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Next chapter is up!

Again, chapter name borrowed from The Flaming Lips.

(Castiel PoV)

CHAPTER TWO- THE IMPULSE

"All right, so this Amy Sutton kid was murdered six months ago, and she's been wasting other girls since then, right?"

Dean peered over Sam's shoulder at the laptop. "Looks like it," his brother answered.

"Point is, why would anybody murder Amy, anyway? She was just a 14-year-old kid. I can't believe anybody would hate her so much to send her off the deep end." Sam continued.

"Not the problem, Sammy. We just need to burn Psycho Girl. Simple as that."

"Maybe you should ask her friends. They might know something." I suggested, standing in the dingy motel room.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Castiel, the murderer's been caught. All we need to do is torch the thing. Why ask anybody?"

Sam interrupted. "Actually, it's not a half-bad idea. We should see her family first. It might help if we knew why she's so violent."

Dean sighed then. "Fine then. Let's go see Psycho Girl's parents. Meanwhile," he fixed me with a sardonic look, "You can go searching around Maine for Wonder Girl with your angelic little feelers. Call if you feel the vibe."

I could sense the skepticism rolling off of him in waves.

"She's here, Dean. I will find her." He shrugged.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, please. I think we might need to do this. Might need her. You've just come back from Hell, God knows you'd take a chance to be happy if you saw it."

Dean's eyes softened slightly. Grudgingly, he answered, "Alright, Sammy, I'll give it a shot. But I swear, if it's some floozy I'll-"

I cut him off. "If you've finally agreed to this, stop mocking the girl. She doesn't even know who we are or what she is."

His hands flew up in the air. "Easy, tiger!" Sam dragged him out of the room before he could say anything else.

I too, turned on the spot and landed in the motel parking lot.

I knew it was a daunting task. To search through thousands of humans in a concentrated area for just one girl was difficult, to say the least. But the Lord had commanded it, and the Lord I would obey.

It was Joshua who told me, he was the only angel God would talk to. But the intent was clear. The girl, whoever she was, was special, extraordinary, and vital for Dean and Sam's future. For my future. She had to be found.

So I walked. I walked through the sea of faces and bodies and buildings in this cruelly beautiful land they called Earth. Every time I saw a girl with black or brown hair and green eyes, I would hope. And every time, a little voice in my head would whisper: Not her. But I kept on searching. I searched until my eyes grew weary of man. I wandered until the sky purpled into the dusky night and the cool kiss of the wind turned impossibly bitter and cold. The stars flashed distantly, creating the familiar pang in my heart. They reminded me of Heaven. Home. In the end I was forced to admit defeat and return to Dean and Sam.

The shorter Winchester grinned cockily at me. "Find the girl of our dreams, Castiel?"

I stared at him. "Not today." Sam cleared his throat loudly, and said, "We didn't get anything helpful from Amy's parents. "

"Yeah, they seemed like zombies." Dean rolled his eyes. I simply looked at him.

"We did get the address of Amy's best friend, though. Apparently, they were like sisters." Sam's eyes flitted to the clock. "We can still go. It's only 7:00 PM."

"You should come." Dean turned to me. "Psycho's friend is a girl and all. You never know, she might be 'the one'."

I looked at him dispassionately. "She just might." I agreed calmly.

Beside me, Sam's lips twitched. I did not understand the cause, or the reason why Dean huffed irritatedly.

Instead, I transported myself to the monstrosity that was Dean's car. I could never understand why Dean loved it so much. It was a rusty, inanimate object that wheezed and growled and stank of oil. I slid in, nonetheless as the Winchesters joined me.

The car emitted a snarl as Dean revved the engine. Sam gave me an amused look. A sizable amount of time later, we reached the appropriate place.

Sam exhaled heavily. "This is it. Palm Avenue, 66th from Elm Street."

Dean elbowed him in the ribs. "Get it, Sam? Elm Street."

He snorted and got out. Dean followed, tugging on the lapels of his suit.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I disapproved of lying. We should have told the ghost's parents the truth. Now, we were going to lie to the girl, too. But humans were strange, and Dean and Sam were adamant about it.

I had flatly refused to wear anything else but my vessel's clothes. I was not going to pretend to be a person I wasn't.

We were standing in front of a white, colonial house. It was big, light and airy, and graceful. The garden was pretty and well kept, almost like it was picture-perfect.

Dean let out a long, low, whistle. "Kid is loaded. This is one lucky 14 year old."

"C'mon, Castiel, Dean, let's go." Sam stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell.

Then the girl stepped out. And I forgot everything else.

Dean and Sam stiffened on either side of me. I knew why.

I couldn't give them an answer, though. I was struck dumb.

I could see, and sense and feel the girl's soul around me. And it was unbelievable. It was so sweet, so warm, so vibrant, positively thrumming with life. It shone with light, and hope and innocence and above all, love. Utter, complete, encompassing love like I'd never felt before. She shimmered with it, with every good thing I'd ever felt. It was like I'd returned home, to Heaven. If any human deserved to be an angel, it was she. She was so pure; as if she was touched by Father himself. But for all that, she wasn't happy.

I could sense it in her. That this child, (was she not one?) knew of suffering, and pain, and hurt and heartbreak.

I could hear Dean and Sam's thoughts.

My God, she's beautiful. I agreed.

She's only fourteen and she's stunning...

I've never seen anyone like her. Neither had I.

Her soul shone through her, reflecting in how she looked, the way she was. It was there in her long, dark, glossy brown hair, in the way it fell down past her back in soft, silky, shining waves.

There, in the smooth, creamy paleness of her skin, in the wild rose hue to her cheeks.

There in her cherry red, Cupid's bow lips that formed a perfect double curve as she looked at us in confusion.

She shivered, probably because of the cold, as she saw us on her porch. She was only wearing a sleeveless red top that fit her snugly, accentuating the curves of her waist. White knee-length shorts on her slim legs fluttered in the breeze.

She gripped the doorframe with thin, elegant arms, her slender body shuddering again.

You could see what she was in her features, in her high cheekbones and straight nose, in eyelashes that glistened as if they'd been coated in oil, smoky and so long they touched her cheek. In eyebrows like upraised wings, in her swanlike neck.

But it was the eyes that did it. Wide, doe eyes that were a lush, sea green. They glimmered with loss and hope and sorrow and compassion and so much grief that didn't belong on a face so young. And again, love. I could sense it. She was so gentle. Her eyes were fixed on me the entire time, and they held a sweet, intense sort of sorrowful fragility that was so forlorn.

She was breath taking, this strange girl I'd found, and more exquisitely beautiful than any angel, woman or she-creature I'd ever seen.

The brothers were looking at me now, almost panicked, and I nodded, answering their unspoken question.

They paled. Sam looked happy while Dean's face held only shock.

I turned my eyes to the girl again, and in my head the voice spoke. It was little no longer, strong and loud and crystal clear.

It's her.