Nathalie was nervous.
Castiel had obediently turned away when she started changing, although she wouldn't be surprised if he already knew what she looked like naked. For all she knew, angels might have x-ray eyes as well. She kept her back to him and changed quickly. She dove under the covers and dragged the blankets to her neck.
"You can turn around now," she called out softly.
Castiel turned around. She held the covers to her neck, as if they served as a shield. She and the angel looked at each other in awkward silence for a few seconds.
"You don't have to stand there all night," she finally said. "Take a seat."
"I have no need to sit down," he responded.
"Sit down. I'm not going to be able to sleep with you looming over me," she snapped, her nerves frayed.
Castiel appeared to consider this and nodded. He moved silently to the edge of the bed and sat down.
"I'm sorry," her voice soft. "I'm a bit on edge still." She gave him a wobbly smile.
Castiel turned to face her. She looked so fragile in bed; her eyes still haunted. She had changed into a filmy, white negligee before getting into bed. Ironically, he would never have considered her naked body until, blushing, she had asked him to turn away while she changed.
To Castiel, the human body was just a vessel, something he needed to move around in. But the embarrassment Nathalie felt over the idea of a man watching her strip naked drove home the point that the human body was for much more.
He felt curiosity, wanting to understand the connection.
She moved to lie on her side.
"So you're an angel," she said. In the history of lame comments, that would be the worst, she berated herself.
"Yes," Castiel answered seriously.
"What is it like?" she asked.
Castiel frowned, unsure what she meant. He kept quiet.
Nathalie sighed. "Never mind. It's a silly question, I guess."
"If you mean what I can do, I am able to do a few things," he finally responded.
"Like?"
"I can heal, teleport, move things with my mind and my touch can kill demons. I can also read minds and move through time and space, though that can be difficult."
Nathalie considered what he had just said. "How did you get involved with the Winchesters?"
Castiel's face grew somber. "I rescued Dean from Hell, at God's command," he said after a while.
Nathalie gasped.
"You know God?"
Castiel shook his head. "Angels above me tell me His wishes, His plans."
"Then how do you know it's really from Him?" Nathalie asked.
Castiel frowned at her, his eyes glittering blue. "I have faith."
Without thinking, Nathalie grasped his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean …" her voice trailed off.
The angel looked at her hand on his. Slowly, achingly, he moved his hand and held her fingers. He lifted his eyes to hers.
Nathalie gasped. His eyes were a blazing blue. His fingers traced random patterns on her hand gently. She felt warm and tingly; she found the small caresses more erotic than a full body massage.
Looking at his surprised expression, she knew he was not prepared for this reaction.
Nathalie sat up and moved to him. Placing her hands around his chiseled, beautiful face, she kissed him gently.
Castiel closed his eyes, marveling at the multitude of sensations; more heavenly than the touch of her hand. His eyes flared open and he jerked away.
Nathalie stared at him, heavy lidded, her mouth slightly open. Nervously, she touched her tongue to her suddenly dry lips.
Castiel's eyes were riveted on her lips. With apparent effort, he tore his gaze away. He stared out into space, as if seeking strength from the emptiness. Moments ticked by, but still Castiel stayed in the pose.
Nathalie bit her lips. She felt like crying; it was never fun to be rejected but this felt like a physical blow. What is it with me and unavailable men? she thought.
"It is not you. I too feel a strange connection," Castiel responded to her thoughts, speaking heavily. "But I am not for you. I am an angel, one of God's warriors. I cannot give you what you need."
Nathalie was silent. What could she say?
Castiel faced her again, his face resolute but tender.
"You need sleep," he said, touching her forehead gently. Before she lost consciousness, she thought he looked sad.
Nathalie was on a beach, the sun's hot rays caressing her skin, waves lapping gently at her feet. She closed her eyes, feeling at peace.
She felt a presence next to her and saw it was Castiel. He smiled.
She smiled back, shielding her eyes.
"Am I dreaming?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Am I dreaming you're here?"
"No."
She accepted his answer happily. They sat in companiable silence, both looking out to the sea; it seemed to stretch forever.
Castiel shifted closer to her, his hand moving to take hers. She turned to him, her eyes mildly curious.
"This is all I can give you," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers.
They made love slowly; Castiel unpracticed. Nathalie didn't mind. He made up for his lack of knowledge with an eagerness to learn.
When she came, the joy she felt was sweeter and more piercing than she had ever experienced. She screamed out her satisfaction, encouraging Castiel to follow suit, to find a different path, a very human way to heaven. He joined her; it was like dying and being reborn.
Spent, they lay on the beach, Nathalie's head on his chest, Castiel holding her close. Nathalie's breathing slowed, she had never been happier.
Castiel lifted his head. He kissed her lingeringly.
"Sleep well," he said, before vanishing.
Sam looked up from the computer at Dean. His brother had settled on the couch, snoring softly, his mouth open.
"Dean, wake up."
No response. Sam picked up one of the beans left on his plate and lobbed it into Dean's mouth with unerring accuracy.
Dean woke up with a snort, coughing. He spat the bean out.
"You asleep?" Sam asked, amused.
Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes, "Just resting my eyes."
"Yeah, right."
"You bothering me about something or you wanted to sing me a lullaby?" Dean growled.
Sam grinned. "I think I found the woman Nathalie mentioned, but it doesn't make sense," he said.
"Nothing about that woman makes sense," Dean said grumpily, rubbing his temples.
"Because she likes Cas over you?" Sam asked, laughing.
Dean grunted. He wasn't going to admit it. Cock-blocked by a Ken doll with wings, how embarrassing. "What did you find?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Young couple, been married two years. Wife had just given birth. Guy was convinced the baby wasn't his and one day decided to punish his wife and kid," Sam said.
"OK, seems clear so far. What's so weird?"
"I dug up the police report. It said the police found three bodies. Guy shot himself after killing his wife and daughter," Sam said. "But get this, no survivors."
"It can't be Nathalie's ghost then," Dean said.
"I considered that, but the timing is right."
Dean considered what he was hearing, the wheels in his mind clicking madly. "And there's no one else who fit the profile?"
"Nope. This was big news back in the day. This town doesn't usually get murders and then they get two murder-suicides within three years of each other," Sam said.
"And the police are sure the guy got his whole family? No toddler running away at the last minute?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "The guy killed his family two weeks after the wife gave birth, so unless the baby is from Krypton, I don't think the baby managed to run away."
Dean was silent.
"Either the police couldn't tell the difference between a dead baby and live one, or someone went through a lot of trouble to cover it up," he finally said.
"Yeah."
"You know what we gotta do."
"We have to check the graves," agreed Sam, nodding.
"I'm assuming you found out where they were buried."
"Bedford Cemetery. It's a few miles west of us," Sam replied, grabbing his jacket.
"I'll just check on her and Cas real quick," Dean said, stretching.
He went to Nathalie's bedroom. All was quiet. He pushed the door open a fraction.
He saw Castiel sitting on the bed, Nathalie sleeping peacefully. The angel had a look of intense concentration. His hand, however, was holding Nathalie's.
Dean paused at the sight. Castiel somehow looked so lost and alone sitting there. He felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind.
He closed the door.