Author's Note:

Hey guys! feel free to send me any feedback, or ask me questions! I'm using this story to play with the concept of Cas before the Winchesters, and the other possible reasons Naomi would have to mess with his head. Review and follow if you like it! :)

-TheEliot

The look of shock on Dean Winchester's face is quickly replaced with one of wariness, then open hostility. I find myself staring directly into a sleek metal object that I can only surmise to be a weapon—perhaps a handgun—by the way he brandishes it.

"Who the Hell are you?" he says gruffly, his mouth a hard line, his hands steady on the weapon, "How did you get in here? And where the Hell are your clothes?"

I inspect his face, my eyes feasting on the beauty of humanity—it's been so long since I've seen an human face—but I say nothing. I'm not entirely sure I can.

Instead, I focus my attention on the ethereal vision of the dust motes drifting through the air between us. Golden with the light of the setting sun. Sunlight. So beautiful. My throat tightens and I feel my eyes well up with tears. This time I let them spill over.

Suddenly the weight of what is happening—my newfound freedom, my sensory overload, my helplessness, my crushed hope and sense of abandonment—seems to fall on me, all at once, and my knees buckle. I try to catch myself against the chair, but I must fail because I am on the floor. I don't care.

I'm free? Am I? Am I truly?

If not, I've simply cracked. The constant state of crushing terror, the thick, all consuming darkness, the information flowing like the rapids of a flooded river in my mind, have left me mad.

If so, it's a madness I'm willing to accept.

My head spins, the small room rendered into a blur of dull color. I feel my neck go slack, but my head seems to be moving still, and I realize that I must be laying on my back. There is dirt on the ceiling.

I feel something soft and heavy cover my body, trapping in my body heat and warming me within seconds. Oh, oh the sweetness of warmth. I feel arms wrap around my torso, over the blanket, and realize that my entire body is shaking uncontrollably. How strange. There is a taste of salt on my lips, and my head still spins, but I ignore my…my sobbing…and focus instead on the feeling of being held. The feeling of human contact. I close my eyes tightly, trying to appreciate fully exactly how safe I feel, wrapped in this softness and held by strong arms. I feel my shaking subside, replaced by occasional tremors running through my body and long, dragging breaths. I shiver again.

I'm so warm. So completely warm and comfortable. I open my eyes slowly and realize the room has stopped spinning, but I feel myself slipping out of consciousness as deep sleepiness seeps through my body. The last thing I see is a pair of sage green eyes peering down into mine with an expression of intense confusion. I surrender to the bliss of slumber, and let the darkness take me in. As I sleep, I dream.

I remember.

I am lying in my bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun that is pouring through the open window. Castiel lets me leave the windows open at night because he knows that the darkness and stifling heat terrify me. The breeze calms me in the night, after a nightmare.

Now, the breeze simply caresses my skin, leaving me feeling refreshed and ready to begin the another blissful day.

I smile, aware of just exactly how happy I am, and leap out of bed. I dress hurriedly and skip down the stairs, expecting to see Castiel in the kitchen. He was called away suddenly last night by the angels, but I am sure he will be back now.

I'm right. As I walk—well, skip—into the kitchen, I see him leaning against the rough wooden table, his back to me. He looks so tense. His head is bowed—praying? No, inspecting a book. I come closer. A…spell book? How odd. That's certainly not his expertise. Maybe I can help him. I peer over his shoulder to inspect the page.

"Good morning, Castiel," I speak the words right into his ear, and am pleased to see him jump, surprised. I was quite careful to tread lightly, just as I was taught, but he is so attuned to my Essence that he is usually able to sense me anyway. I guess I win this round. I smile playfully,

"So, what are you up to? A little light morning reading?"

I glance down at the spell book and note the title of the spell: "Demillicus' Trap"

I peer at him in confusion, "Hey, isn't that the one…"

I glance around the room, noting the cylindrical silver chest on the table, the bowl filled with already-burnt offerings, the cut on Castiel's palm.

And suddenly it dawns on me.

My eyes come to rest, finally, on Castiel's face. And then, without a doubt, I know.

Oh God no.

He is cold. Distant. He takes a step forward, and I take a step back, and suddenly there seems to be a pocket of thick air around me, trapping me. I look down. That crafty bastard. His advances forced me into a Demillicus Triangle. I'm stuck. Just like mother. I'm trapped.

Somehow I can't seem to care.

My eyes do not shift from Castiel's face. I do not blink. I feel hot tears cascade down my face, and I let them fall. His cold grey eyes—so different from when I saw him yesterday—stare mercilessly back into mine.

What could I have done to warrant this? I was sure everything was going so well.

I thought I was helping.

He said it'd never come to this.

He promised.

My lip trembles, and the weight on my chest makes speaking impossible. He picks up the chest and begins the final incantation. He looks up at me when the spell is completed, and I manage to choke one word out through the tightness in my throat.

"Why?"