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It was early afternoon and Dean knew he had a long drive ahead of him. He wouldn't make it home until late at night, or even the next morning. Falling asleep wasn't an issue for Dean. His mind was brimming, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

Sam was alive. Sam was alive. He wasn't trapped in some pit. He was on earth, living and breathing. And he hadn't said a word to Dean.

He couldn't deny that he was livid. He couldn't believe that Sam could even think that Dean wouldn't want to see him. Yes, he had a happy life with Lisa and Ben, but there had always been something missing.

He had to admit that there was a part of him, even before he knew that Sam was alive, that hoped whatever had been haunting his dreams would be a step towards reclaiming his old life. He wanted to hunt. Though he would never say it out loud, he needed to hunt.

He was somewhat disappointed that this potential hunt only produced Mattea.

Dean could scarcely fathom it. Mattea. Their guardian angel. A girl, barely a woman, in a purple cardigan whose sole purpose was to be a warrior for the Winchester family. He wanted to think of her as an ally, but Sam had a point. The last time they got tangled up with a supernatural girl claiming to be their friend, they ended up bringing about the apocalypse.

But she seemed different. Yeah, Sam gave her crap, but she dished it right back. But not like a demon would. She was never cruel.

Dean had to admit it: he liked her. He felt like she could kick ass and take names, even if her cardigan spoke otherwise.

The sun set as Dean pondered all these things. He was driving in darkness, the only car on the road.

He thought about Mattea and all that she had promised them: her protection, her loyalty, her guarantee to always be there when they called to her.

He had to see it before it would believe it. He was a Doubting Thomas. The biblical reference made him cringe. He gripped the steering wheel. He knew he would regret what he was about to do.

He cleared his throat and looking up to the sky through the windshield, he softly spoke her name.

"Mattea."

He heard the flutter of wings. He looked to his right. Mattea had appeared from nowhere, sitting solemnly in the passenger's seat, staring out the window.

"Hey," Dean said, with a forced smile. She slowly turned her head to look at him. She seemed much more distant than before, in a way, more angelic.

"That was fast," he said, still forcing a cheerful attitude. She didn't have the same perkiness of their first encounter.

"It's my job to be here the minute you need me," she explained bluntly. Dean didn't reply. He simply couldn't muster a reply to such a powerful, direct statement. He could only lightly laugh to himself.

"What is it?" she asked, cocking her head in curiosity.

"I don't know. I guess I'm just not used to angels being there for me," he explained with a sigh.

"Oh," was all Mattea could think to say. She felt consumed with guilt, every word was a harsh reminder that she had let them down.

Dean wasn't blind; he could see the emotions written across her face. It was almost endearing, how she was so unused to her human face, how she didn't know how to hide what she felt.

She suddenly spoke, "Why did you call me, Dean?"

The question took him off guard and Dean struggled for an answer. He felt that telling her he simply wanted to see if calling her would work seemed insensitive.

"Look, Mattea. I want to apologize for what happened earlier today. Sam was rude. I wish I could say why, but he just . . . he's been through a lot," Dean tried apologizing for Sam, though he felt it was rather hollow.

She listened patiently and, with a small smile of gratitude, replied, "I appreciate that, Dean. I really do. But Sam is going to have to apologize to me himself. As much as you'd like to, you can't speak for him. He's just going to have to get used me."

Dean scoffed in disbelief, "Get used to you? I don't believe this."

"It seems to me, Dean, that there is a lot you don't believe," Mattea suddenly seemed more animated, growing frustrated, "I don't know what I am going to have to do to prove to you that I am here for good and for your good."

"Well, maybe if you didn't just show up out of the blue. Maybe if you had . . . I don't know, an angel letter of recommendation or something. If Cas had just told us you were coming—."

"Cas?" Mattea interrupted, her dark eyes wide with fear, "You mean Castiel?"

Dean frowned in confusion, "Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?"

Mattea suddenly seemed very anxious. She bit her lip, worry etched on her brow.

"Whoa, whoa, what is going on?" Dean asked, seeing the usually unshakable angel suddenly deeply agitated.

Sucking in air through her teeth, she began to mutter nervously, "Oh, that isn't good. Oh, that can't be good. He can't know. He really can't know."

"Hey," Dean said abruptly, grabbing Mattea's attention.

"What is going on? Is something wrong?" he pressed urgently.

"Castiel can't know about me, Dean," Mattea confessed, her voice heavy with guilt. She was hiding something.

"What do you mean?" Dean nearly shouted.

"Dean, Castiel doesn't know that I am out," Mattea explained.

"Out? Out of what?"

"Heaven."

"What? You're out past curfew, or something?"

"No. He doesn't know that I got out."

Dean looked at her helplessly. He knew getting involved with this guardian would only bring him more trouble.

"Got out?"

Her eyes focused on the endless road before them. A few seconds of electric silence passed between them before she spoke, her voice taut with dread.

"Dean, I escaped."

Fin.
Well, not really. It is here we feel you lovely readers should know that this story is simply the first chapter or "episode" in a series of episodes.
Mattea will make her return, Sam and Dean will sort out their angst (but don't we love it so!), and a problem will present itself that must be solved.
Sacrifices will be made, lovers will be reunited (WHAT?), and good times will be had.

So stay tuned . . .

L&M