Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Beauty and the Beast.

Author's Note: Have you ever written something and thought the what fuck is wrong with me

Chapter 2

"Sam, did you hear that? It sounded like a knock."

"A knock? Who'd be knocking at this time of night?"

"Oh, is there some sort of prime time for knocking, then?"

"Typically around midday. You know, when everyone's awake. Who'd be knocking anyway? You're imagining things."

Garth hopped across the rug, careful to keep the lit candles on his arms from touching any fabric. "You're taller than me. Take a quick peek through the peephole and tell me if you see anyone."

Sam rolled his eyes but moved himself from his favorite resting spot against the wall. He was a rather large clock, tall to boot, and sometimes he got over balanced when he moved too quickly. Years upon years of practise never seemed enough when a wrinkle in the rug was involved. "Move over." Sam crept up to the door and bent his frame so he could peer out the peephole. "You're kidding me."

"What? What?"

"I can't believe it."

"Can't believe what? Don't leave me hanging, man!" Sam was silent as he stared a while longer out the peephole. "Sam, you're gonna get peepeye. Hurry up and tell me what you see."

Sam turned to look down at him. "It's a man. A young man."

"Really? I told you!"

"You didn't say anything about a young man."

"I clearly recall mentioning a young attractive man was knocking on the door."

Sam let loose a long suffering sigh. "What should we do?"

"Let him in, of course!"

"But Dean…"

"Will not be any the wiser. Move over, you big galoot." Sam shifted out of the way and Garth hopped up and hung from the doorknob. He twisted it with all his might and grinned when the door opened and swung inward. The man outside looked startled, his eyes wide. He leaned forward and squinted.

"Hello?"

"Down here!" Garth chimed in.

The man looked down and recoiled. "W-what? How?"

"I know I'm thin, but I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"You're a candlestick."

"I'm a candlestick holder." Garth pushed the door open wider and motioned for the man to enter. "Garth's the name. Pleased to meet you."

"Castiel," the man said faintly as he gazed beyond Garth into the castle. "How…?"

"It's a long story. You look a little cold. Why don't you come in and we'll talk?"

"I… I don't know. My father warned me about - about strange things like this."

Garth's eyes narrowed. "He warned you about talking candlesticks?"

"Well, no. It was more like strange things in general."

"Are you gonna stand out there in the cold calling me names all night, or are you coming in?"

Castiel looked back at the gate and sighed. He had no other choice. "I guess I'm coming in."

Sam, who had been shielded from view behind the door, furrowed his painted on brows nervously. If Castiel was wary of a candlestick, how was he going to react to a giant clock? His question was answered for him when Garth closed the door and Castiel turned to face him and promptly fell over. "Is he ok?" Sam demanded.

Garth hopped over to Castiel's head. "It looks like he fainted."

"This was a bad idea. Let's just drag him back outside and leave him."

"Sam, it's cold out there. He'll die."

Sam moved from one standing peg to another anxiously. "Dean's not going to be happy about this. You know how he is about strangers."

"I know exactly how he is about strangers, and that's why Castiel here has to stay. Look at him! He's young and beautiful, and he didn't run away immediately when he saw me. He's perfect."

"The whole point of the curse was to teach Dean not to be so concerned with himself and the way people look, remember?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt."

Sam frowned, his expression pensive. "Fine. He can stay. But if Dean gets upset, I'm telling him it was all your idea."

"Great! Now you carry him into the study."

Castiel woke up wrapped in a blanket on a chair in front of a roaring fire. He felt warm and toasty and dry. Where was he? He glanced around him at all of the unfamiliar things and curled tighter in on himself. It didn't look or smell like home. He knew he wasn't dreaming because his dreams were never so vivid.

"Castiel, you're awake!" said a voice to his right. Castiel flinched and closed his eyes. He recognized that voice. It all came flooding back in a dizzying rush and Cas felt sick. "It's really alright, you know. We're not going to hurt you. We want to help you."

The fire crackled in the silence after Garth spoke. It was a while before he could pluck up the courage to respond. "I'm just a little alarmed. And confused. This situation goes against everything I ever believed."

"There are a lot of things in this world you don't know about that would change your beliefs yet again."

"I'm sure of it," Castiel responded quietly.

"I promised you an explanation, and you'll get one. Just not right now. You're weak and still suffering from the effects of the cold. Take your time and recover. I'll have one of the servants bring you a bowl of soup."

There had to be a catch. Wasn't there always a catch? Castiel decided he was too tired and hungry to care much. "Thank you."

Garth smiled and disappeared. Castiel sat in silence for a while, gazing without seeing at the fire. He didn't realize a tall dark figure had been slowly moving closer to him until he looked over and saw the clock from earlier.

"I'm sorry I frightened you before," the clock said sheepishly. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Castiel tried not to cower or show any adverse reaction to Sam's presence. "Castiel. And you just startled me. I wasn't expecting a… I wasn't expecting to see you there." What a curious thing Sam was. How did he exist? How did any of this exist? Perhaps he had died alone in the woods after all and this was some sort of freakish afterlife.

"Most people haven't responded well to my appearance after the curse."

"Curse?" Castiel asked eagerly.

"I think Garth would be better at explaining it." Sam's voice had a very sad tone to it.

Castiel mind was racing a mile a minute. A curse. Had his father been telling the truth, then? Not entirely convinced this wasn't all some strange hallucination, Castiel nodded. "That's ok. I can wait."

A moment later the sound of tiny wheels on hard wood floors echoed through the halls. A tray suddenly appeared by his side fully stocked with tea and a steaming bowl of soup. Castiel didn't hesitate to reach out and take the bowl into his lap.

"Now," Garth said, climbing on top of the tray to better address Castiel. "You want to hear the story, correct?"

Castiel nodded and spooned the soup into his mouth with gusto. "It's a story unlike any other you have ever heard before. It's the story about The Beast."