Huzzah! A new chapter! Again, we own nothing recognizable. Reviews appreciated.
Dean wandered over to the side of the bridge, looking down to the water below.
"I feel like this thing is just mocking us now," Dean said, pounding his fist against the metal railing in aggravation.
"Give it a minute, Dean," Sam said calmly, through he was growing more and more irritated by the minute.
"I don't have a minute, Sam," Dean barked, "I have a life I have to get back to. This thing has been taunting me . . . us for months now and I, for one, have had enough."
"Maybe if we call to it, beckon it somehow," Sam started to conjecture, trying his best to be helpful.
"Oh, yeah, that'll work," Dean murmured sarcastically.
"What did you say?"
"Like doing anything is going to help," Dean spoke louder, more cynically.
"How do you know?" Sam rejoined.
"I tried all kinds of stuff in my dreams in my dreams. I called out to it, chased it, and I never saw its face," Dean said, clearly frustrated, "I mean, I looked for you, and you didn't show."
Sam shook his head, not believing what he just heard, "What?"
"What do you mean, 'What?'?" Dean snapped, "Did you think I didn't look for you or try to find some way to bring you back as soon as I could?"
Sam furrowed his brow. "Dean, you promised—,"
"Yeah, I know what I promised, Sam," Dean looked to his brother's face, his stare seeming to bore into his skull, "I wasn't going to let you go that easy."
"What do you mean?"
Dean got in Sam's face, "I searched in every lore book, every source of goddamned literature I could find, trying to bring you back." Dean breathed heavily, suppressing his own emotions. "And then, I find out you've been back—."
"For six months, Dean," Sam finished for him, "And when I got out, I immediately tried to find you. When I did, you were with Lisa, and Ben, and you were…"
"What?" Dean prodded, annoyed.
"Happy," Sam answered honestly, "You had everything you've always wanted; the girl, a kid, a house, a real job—."
"And you really thought I wouldn't want to see you?"
"I didn't bother you because I thought you finally had everything you wanted," Sam cried desperately.
"Sam, all I wanted was my brother back."
"Dean, that's not fair," Sam argued back.
Dean opened his mouth to retort when he was silenced by a voice whispering in his ear. The voice.
They both turned on their heel, spinning around to face from where the voice seemed to come.
"Did you hear that?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam replied, his eyes searching for any trace of the mystery speaker.
"What did it say to you?"
"Just one word."
They woke with a start, sitting up in bed. Dean's breath came in and out like gales and Sam rubbed his hands over his eyes and face.
They looked at each other in confusion, shock and a myriad of other emotions.
"Did you hear . . . ?" Dean asked, trailing off.
"I think so. What did you hear?"
"Mattea."
With this word, the house began to quake. The windows panes shook in their frames and the bed rattled against the floor.
Bobby sat at his desk when the tremors began to rumble through the house. Bracing himself against his desk, the disturbance lasted for little more than second or two.
Then, silence.
Until he heard a sharp rap from the front door. He grabbed a pistol from his desk drawer and walked slowly towards the door. He quickly opened it, gun cocked and ready to fire.
What he saw was hardly a threat.
A girl.
A young woman in a purple cardigan.
"Bobby."
It wasn't a question. Bobby was so baffled that he entirely forgot the gun he held in his hand.
"Yes?"
Her face broke into a smile. She was young, appearing to be no more than twenty years old.
"Oh, I can't tell you happy I am to finally meet you," she gushed, "How are your legs?"
"What?"
"May I come in? I'm coming in?"
Her dark, glossy hair that fell to her waist swung heavily against her back as she strode confidently into the house.
"Can I ask who you are?" Bobby managed to ask.
She had shining, dark eyes that smiled even when she wasn't. Her gaze traveled across the room, taking in every little detail.
"I've seen this place so many times; I can't believe I'm finally here," she said with a small sigh, "It's so . . . dirty."
"Excuse me?"
"In a good way," she hurriedly added, "Rustic."
"Who are you?" Bobby asked more forcefully.
"Where are they?" she asked eagerly, turning back to Bobby, completely ignoring his question.
"Who?"
"The boys? Are they up there?" she walked to the foot of the stairs.
She suddenly seemed very serious and turned to Bobby, a solemn expression on her face, "They aren't in the panic room, are they? I can't go down there if they are."
She seemed almost frightened.
"They?"
"Sam and Dean. I assume they are here."
Sam and Dean descended the stairs. Their shoeless footfalls crashed like thunder as they burst into the room.
"Bobby!" Dean called out, "Are you . . . alright?"
Sam and Dean looked at the stranger in the purple cardigan standing next to Bobby, an elated smile on her face.
"Who is this?" Sam asked Bobby, pointing at the girl.
Bobby still held the gun tight, "I was hoping you could tell me."
The girl took a step forward. Sam and Dean took a cautious step back.
"Sam," she said softly, her eyes glowing, she looked like she was about to cry, "Dean."
"Who are you?" Dean asked harshly.
Her gaze was steady, unwavering, and extremely unnerving. It was inhuman and unnatural. It reminded Dean of someone.
"You know who I am, Dean. You both know," she replied earnestly.
"I can promise you, we don't," Sam said, eyeing the case of knives that stood regrettably just out his immediate reach.
The girl's face suddenly fell.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she said, her voice hauntingly sorrowful.
"Tell us your name," Dean commanded.
She seemed confused by this demand.
"You know my name. You said it. Just now. How else do you think I could be here?"
Sam and Dean looked to each other and then back at the stranger.
"Mattea?"
She smiled, "Yes."
Bobby, holding his gun to fire, spoke, "So you're the one who's been haunting these boys' dreams."
She turned to face Bobby, unshaken by the metal barrel aimed at her chest, "I'll admit it wasn't exactly how I had hoped to introduce myself. I really didn't mean to alarm any of you. But there was no other way. Besides, if anyone would notice something like me in their dreams, it would be these two."
She turned back to Sam and Dean, her eyes gleaming with pride. All Sam and Dean could think about was what exactly "something like her" was.
"And I was right. You guys figured it out."
"Not exactly," Sam said sharply, "We know your name, but we don't know what you are."
She cocked her head slightly and Dean suddenly knew.
"You're an angel."
She nodded, unblinking.
Sam frowned in thought.
"I don't get it. If you're an angel, why didn't you just come to us directly?"
She thought for moment, considering how to best answer, "Circumstances were difficult."
A vague reply. No one knew how to respond.
"It's hard to explain," Mattea concluded. It was clear she had no intention of answering the question.
"Try," Dean pressed bitterly, not knowing what to make of this seemingly innocuous angel. He had met a lot of things that seemed harmless and turned out to be anything but, "You're an angel. That ain't a whole lot go off of. In your crowd, I've met some real dicks."
"I'm not just any angel. I am your angel," she explained. Bobby saw things were about to get personal and he silently excused himself.
"Our angel?" Sam said skeptically.
"Yes, Sam. I am your guardian."