The next morning's lesson was about sensing things. Whether something was a demon, or an angel, or a pagan god, or a wendigo, or just some homeless guy on drugs. It was pretty easy.

And I got to see a demon up close for the first time (Crowley not included). Cas had conjured one up for practice, a guy who looked like he could be a principal or superintendent, wearing glasses, slightly bald, and tied to a chair. He had black eyes, and if I looked closely, I could see his demonic form, a grotesque face, deformed and scarred.

I didn't try to look very closely.

He stayed quiet.

"You can tell how powerful a demon is based on their Aura. This one is very easy to detect, because it is not powerful enough to block you. The most powerful demons can pass as humans because of their talent for hiding."

"Will they all have black eyes?" I'd asked, curious.

"No. There are also red, yellow, and purple, among other variations. Many of the more powerful demons have uniquely colored eyes, and different... Monstrous features."

"And the dark feeling. That's him too?" I'd questioned, a deep feeling of dread and rage and loads of other nasty stuff emanating from the beast.

"Yes. If you focus more intently, you may be able to find the epicenter."

We also worked on telepathic connections, as he showed me simple memories in his head, and I attempted to read them. I could speak without opening my mouth, putting words right into his thoughts, which was admittedly pretty cool. He taught me how to hear the communications of other angels, although, he advised me to stay away from them, in case any of them noticed me.

After lunch, we reviewed a little bit, and I learned how to find memories in someone else's head, and how to manipulate their emotions.

With everything I learned, Cas seemed surprised that I was capable of doing it. It seemed like he hadn't bargained on me being this powerful, or quick to learn.

It went on like that for the rest of the week, learning healing and disguise on Wednesday, exorcising and taking out demons on Thursday, and on Friday, something new, manipulating matter and transporting it. I could take something small and make it big, take something big and make it small, grow plants from a seed in an instant, turn one thing into another, or make something out of nothing at all. That last part was the most exhausting. Probably the reason why I got Saturday and Sunday off. Well, sort of.

Saturday was about fighting, both angel style, incorporating my powers, and normal, hand to hand combat, or with a knife or gun. In the morning, Cas taught me, and in the afternoon, Sam brought my lunch (which I had forgotten) and ended up staying until around nightfall, as we practiced for hours on end.

It went on like that for another three weeks, taking us into September, spending every weekday training, and taking only Sunday to rest. I was exhausted both mentally and physically, more so than I ever had been before in my life, and was incredibly sore for ages, as we reviewed and practiced sparring. I got so good at shooting a gun and crossbow that I could hit a bulls eye from half a mile away.

I could throw knives too. I had borrowed a few from Bobby's secret stash, and had taught myself how to do that. I was a little bit stronger than a normal person, and a heck of a lot faster. I had easily beaten Sam at a footrace, and had even bested him sparring a few times. I accidentally broke his foot, and had managed to repair it all by myself. Cas was pretty pleased. Even Dean seemed to be less grumpy. I had asked him for help on some of my lessons too.

"Can you help me practice?"

"As long as it doesn't involve turning me into a frog. Go for it." He'd replied, a little sarcastically, glancing up from the magazine about cars that he was reading while sitting on the back porch.

"Well, I could do that, but I had something a little bit easier in mind," I replied.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Just wait." I focused on a memory I had, of going to the beach with my family, of the ocean, and the sand, and the Twizzlers that I always used to eat as a kid.

Dean cocked his head to the side as he received the memory, curious.

"It this you?" He asked, kind of amazed, and smiling a little bit, the happiness of the thoughts rubbing off on him.

"Yeah. We always went to the same beach when I was little. And there was always licorice and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Want me to make lunch?"

He smiled approvingly.

"Sounds good."

I pushed myself constantly. Cas was always telling me how Sam and Dean were such good hunters, and how they saved people.

I figured that I would like to do that.

It was sort of like a fantasy, a distant goal of mine. Like a kid who was born to play baseball and wanted to go pro. And now, I was almost good enough for the major league.

So just another chapter here. Lots of interesting angel powers and stuff. You know, just the norm. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Hope y'all have a nice day. (Lots of fun chapters to come.) Ta!