Sam spent the day lolling around the hotel room, wondering about his strange visitor. He wasn't quite sure he believed her. He had never heard of anyone interacting with angels, at least, not in this century. Then again Sam also had no proof that angels didn't exist. However, he began doubting Matilda and began to peruse other theories that might explain her behavior and knowledge of his family.
"She could be a spirit attached to something or a person…or she's got powers like mine," he mused as he nonchalantly flipped through pages of his father's old, and terribly abused, journal.
"Samuel! Please refrain from spouting these ridiculous ideas!" An incensed and familiar voice snapped. Sam's head moved like a spinning top but he saw no one in the room. He eyed the door suspiciously for a moment and called, "Matilda?"
"I'm right here you dolt!" He turned, jumping as he found Matilda's displeased face an inch away from his own. She backed away and began to scold him. Sam once again thought a very grumpy principal was addressing him.
"A person like you! Honestly! Do I seem demonic to you, you infuriating child? Why don't you use your God given intelligence! Hmm?" She scowled. Sam raised his hands, calmly telling her, "I was just going over all the possibilities."
"I'm not going to say "Oh ye of little faith," because that quote is far too overused, but I'm very tempted to smack you!" She folded her arms, still looking quite cross.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. Rather sheepishly he looked at her and asked, "So…are you really an angel?" Matilda took a deep breath.
"Yes!" She shouted, grabbing onto her braided pigtails.
"Ok! Ok!" Sam cried in an attempt to appease her. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering why she was so huffy. Matilda noticed his nervous expression and took off her glasses to clean them.
"Sorry for the temper, dear, but I have just come from…sharing some words with my colleague," she explained, giving her lenses an aggressive cleaning. Sam's eyebrows rose.
"Your colleague?" He questioned.
"Yes. He's with you brother now I believe. Or at least the slacker better be," Matilda growled. Sam gaped. An angel was helping his brother? He wasn't quite sure how to take the news. He finally groaned, realizing that his brother would probably start being a smart ass and tick the angel off before the Heavenly helper could do any good.
/\/\/\/\/\
"Hey…pretty boy. Wake up," A voice hoarsely called.
Dean snapped his eyes open, full of fear, and scrambled to the back of the cavern he currently was trapped in. He stared in panic at the man who looked down at him with an easy smile.
The man was clothed and unscathed. Unlike Dean, who was covered in bruises, welts, and cuts, and was naked.
The stranger scratched his thick, curly brown hair, got down on one knee, and beckoned for Dean to come closer. Yet Dean continued to stare at him like a wild animal.
"Aw son, they've got you bad huh? Come here Dean Winchester," the man then barked. Something in the man's rumbling, authoritative voice caused Dean to relax a bit. He edged away from the rock wall his back was pressed against.
"C'mere son. I've got something for you. I'm not going to hurt you," assured the man. Dean tentatively crept into view.
"W-w-what?" he croaked.
Dean stood at least sixty feet below the edge of the cavern, and he wondered how this man was going to be able to give him anything. The man raised his eyebrows and smirked, lines appearing by the edges of his mouth.
"W-w-water," he teased, waving a plastic bottle around in the air, which Dean was certain did not exist five seconds ago.
"Catch." The bottle dropped down into the hole. The young man found himself only able to watch it crash to the ground. To his utter joy and surprise it did not break.
Up above him, the man frowned and rubbed his stubble covered chin.
"Now that wasn't much of a catch. Well, go on, drink up," he said waving his hand. Dean picked the bottle up with care and unscrewed the cap, bewildered and astonished.
"Is this…for real?" He asked, staring at the water, afraid it would disappear. He heard the man above him exhale loudly. "Yes! Now drink it before some devil takes it away from you!" With those words Dean hurriedly lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.
The water felt like…well, like Heaven. He hadn't had water in what seemed to be years. He was so happy he almost started to cry.
"Thank you," he gasped, restraining himself. He looked up to the man and noticed he wasn't paying attention. He was peering off to his right; his mouth was pulled down into a deep frown.
"Well, gotta go. You better hide that bottle. Don't want anything finding it while you're down here. By the way, I'm Jeremy. I'll be back soon Dean Winchester. " The man smiled grimly and tipped his head.
Dean watched as the man disappeared before he hurried to the shelter of his wall. He held the cool water bottle to his chest and was extremely thankful for the relief. He began to guzzle it down, but stopped when a vague voice told him he should ration it. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture the sound of the voice. It was gruff and low. Dean remembered that whoever owned the voice was important. But with a shrug, he continued drinking in large gulps.