Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

So, chapter three is up! Let me explain the story- Castiel shows himself straight from season one- I know, it's flawed, but bear with me, and Odette's the main character, along with the rest. All the episodes will be featured, but I'll probably cheat and cut out a few and add my own. :P

Most importantly- review people! I'm begging here. Flames, compliments, anything- just review, please!

The Flaming Lips. Again.

CHAPTER THREE- DO YOU REALIZE?

(Odette PoV)

I scribbled out the last answer. Finally. All my work was complete. I hated Math, and Miss Augustine even more, but my GPA was a perfect 5.0 and it was going to stay that way. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. This was my life now. I had to get used to it. An all too familiar throb started in my chest. I wanted to go home.

I wanted to hit myself. It would do no good to dwell on the past. I'd made my choice and I would stick to it. I still thought it was the right one. This is your home now, I told myself sternly. If only I could believe it.

Just then, the doorbell rang. I was puzzled. It was getting late, almost 7:30 in the evening, who would come to see me?

I reluctantly left the comfort of my electric blanket and padded out the front door, peering outside. There were three men on my porch, all staring at me as if they'd seen a ghost. The first one had light brown hair and green eyes. He was very handsome, and his eyes were trained on me. The one next to him was tall, very tall, like Sasquatch, and equally attractive, what with his shaggy brown hair and hazel eyes which were again, turned on me. They were both wearing suits, I noticed. But it was the man in the middle who unnerved me.

His cobalt eyes bored into me, thick, spiky black hair falling onto them. He was tall, maybe as tall as the hazel-eyed one and pale-skinned. He, unlike the others, was wearing a tan trenchcoat and a white shirt and pants. I would have thought him an accountant except for the way he looked. He was beautiful, in the way I imagined only a seraph would look. Everything from his aquiline nose to his full lips was perfect. Flawless. If I'd believed in angels, I would've thought him one. His expression was stern, severe; revealing nothing of what he was feeling as he gazed at me. I was laid bare under his stare, oddly exposed, as if he could see my soul. I shuddered under the intensity of his gaze. It was as if he could read my mind, as if he knew the very essence of me. I could sense it in him. Something fierce and implacable and warlike; those made me think he was something more.

He cocked his head to one side, staring fixedly at me. And like a bird locked in the gaze of a snake, I couldn't look away.

For the second time that day, I mentally kicked myself. Here I was, on my porch, gawking at three men, who were gawking right back at me, if that were any comfort. I spared the two in suits a glance. They seemed to notice, and flipped out their wallets so I could see their badges. The green-eyed man held it aloft. "Agent Smith, FBI. This-" he indicated the one with hazel eyes, "Is Agent Johnson."

"I am Castiel." The last man said in a deep, flat monotone. I probably would have asked for more from him, but he was far, far too intimidating. Instant uneasiness flooded in.

"Am I in any trouble?" I asked, fingers flying to the locket, his locket, as they always did when I was nervous or upset. "No, of course not, nothing like that." Agent Johnson spread his hands in a placating gesture.

"We'd just like you to answer a few questions." Agent Smith followed up. I swallowed, edging the door open. "Alright then, come on in." I led them into the living room. "Please sit. Can I get you guys anything?"

"Coffee would be great." I stepped into the kitchen and whipped up the coffee in a few minutes, bringing it out on a silver tray. The agents took it immediately and started drinking, while Castiel simply stared at his intently, as if he'd never seen it before.

"What's your name?" he suddenly spoke, making me jump.

"I'm Odette. Odette Slessor." I smiled tentatively at them. They did not return it.

"Where are your parents, Odette?" Agent Johnson looked at me quizzically.

"I don't live with my parents," the pang started in my heart again. I stubbornly beat it down. Smith and Johnson blinked rapidly at me. Castiel's face did not change.

"Anyway, what did you want to ask me?" I hastily changed the subject.

"It's about your friend Amy, the one who died. We want to know if she was upset, scared, maybe even angry, before she was murdered." Agent Smith waited for an answer.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I don't understand why you're asking me all this. Hasn't the murderer been caught?

"That's classified information. Please. It's important." He continued smoothly. I looked at him some more, and then complied.

"You have to understand. Amy was bullied, picked on a lot in school. Not many people liked her. She was shy, and simple. She always wanted to be popular. She never got the chance. Amy was gentle, nice. But there was always a part of her that was discontent, insecure, and angry. As far as I know, there was no change in her behavior before she...died."

I looked away. "I see." Agent Johnson nodded then stood up. The other two followed suit. "Thank you for your time, Odette. We're sorry for bothering you." And just like that, they were gone, leaving me staring after them.

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