So they think I'm this Angle who turned against them? Bow to me or be slain like some tyrannical kind? From the story Dean told me, the background on this Angle, sounds to me that he was just trying to save everyone, but the power just got to his head. I mean, wouldn't it be better for the soul's to be trapped in an Angle and not the King of Hell?

King of Hell? Crowly? Never thought that such a thing could exist.

But that still doesn't explain why Sam and Bobby hold such a heavy grudge towards me. I'm not that Angle, I don't remember anything before the found me. How many time's have I said that? I don't even know who I really am. All I know is that I was found in the forest by my 'foster' family, my name's Castiel Winchester and I am a poetic nerd. And I hardly even know this 'family'. And yet, I feel like I do know them. Like I knew Dean was going to chase after that waitress, that Sam loved to read and drink latte's, and Bobby was into drinking and cell phones.

"Damn, I must be an insomniac, too." I said to myself, struggling to go to sleep. Hell I've been struggling for the last two hours. Maybe I slept too much at the my head's buzzing, maybe that story has me on edge.

Fuck it.

I got up, rubbed the tiredness out of my eyes, and quietly got out of bed. I walked into the bathroom, staring at my scared chest. The deep red line's traced up and down and all side's of my abdomen. Yet all the line's were connected, feeling those line's, I could feel the bump's like a car going over railroad track's. I have to be dyslexic or something, because my mind made out line's, symbol's, and I could read them. Ancient Latin word's, some enochian, they weren't sentences, just simple words.

"Truth, protection, love, banishing. What the hell?" I asked my reflection, as if he could answer me. For a moment, I truly hoped that he would answer me. At least someone can be straight with me.

I knew I wasn't going to sleep, so I got dressed, grabbed a room key and headed out. I knew we were close to being in the middle of nowhere, but I needed some air. Taking a step outside, closing the door behind me, I could feel the air against my skin. It was cool, the cricket's made their chirpy music, well, combined with the horrible juke box music from the bar. Putting my hands in my pocket's, I walked up to the bar and sat on the cement porch, I knew better than to go in. No idea how, I just do. Instead, I sat down and stared at the star's again.

The door to the bar slammed against the wall, creating a loud thud. Startled, I turned to look at a stumbling drunk tripping over his feet, attempting to get to his truck. I could imagine him in his truck the next morning surrounded by police vehicles, trying to pull the head off the steering wheel and cleaning the blood of the windshield.

"Eyes of red and drowning in tears, words of slur and drunken truth, jello like legs

Wallow in sinful thoughts, suffocating in deepest sorrows

Lay's in the souls of broken men

With hearts as warm as baked bread, wing's skinned, torn and broken

Why must our hearts be crackin'?

Ill and grief

Relent and believe-"

"Hey, pal." Looking over at the door, a shabby truck driver stumbled over to me with a skimpy dressed girl at his side. His eyes red, his words were slurring and he was hiccuping uncontrollably. I waited for him to pass out. "Look here, this ain't no poetry reading joint, it ain't a cafe. It's a bar!"

"Now come on baby," The trampy, skimpy dressed girl said, rubbing his broad shoulders. "I think it's nice."

"Shut it." He shot, stumbling into the wall.

"Look, man," I said, standing up, backing away. I didn't know him, and something was telling me I didn't want to know. And I didn't want to get involved with this guy, I know I can out run his wide load, but that's something I really don't wanna do. "I don't want any trouble. I'll just go."

"What?" He asked, pretending to act like a gangster. And not those fedora wearing, tan tux wearing gangster's. " You scared ya hipster punk?"

Hipster and punk in the same sentence? Wow, this guy's something else. Don't say that, shut up and back away. I put my hand up, showing surrender as I continued backing away.

"Get your ass back here!"

Shit, I thought as I put my hand's up in battle mode.

"Hey, back off." I jumped, startled to see Bobby coming out of the bar. "He's a kid."

"What? You his dad or sumthin'?" He asked, spitting onto the ground like a hill billy.

"No, I'm...his friend." I studied his words, I couldn't believe he called me a 'friend'. Well, after all, he said 'friend' slowly like a lie. After how he looked at me, and he hasn't spoken a damn word to me since we met. Now all of a sudden he's talking to me? Why can't he see I'm not the Angle they're scared of? Why does he think I'm some kind of monster? " Mess with him and you're gonna have a problem."

"Come on, baby. Let's go to the room." The girl told him in a sultry voice, his slobbering mouth formed a seductive grin at her. Their smiles sent an uncomfortable chill down my back. Wrapping a thick arm around her trim waist, they waltzed past me and towards the motel office. One thing I could think of was him and her, together like that... now that was just disgusting.

"The hell you doing out here? It's like 4 am, boy." Bobby asked, slapping me behind the head.

"Ow, sorry," I grunted, rubbing my aching head. As if I haven't been damaged enough. My stomach turned, smelling alcohol on his breath. What is it with these guy's and drinking beer? How would I know how disgusting that taste's? " I couldn't sleep, so I came out here."

"You that dumb? You could've gotten yourself killed." Bobby grunted as he wiped away the slobber on his chin, my nostril's burning from the smell of strong alcohol on his breath.

"Sorry-"

Before I could finish my apology, Bobby was grabbing me behind my neck, roughly dragging me back to the motel. I couldn't breath, struggling under his grip. I wanted him to let go, I wanted to run away from him. I could feel my gut twist in fear, like I've lived this before, and I knew I didn't want to live through it.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I cried as Bobby dragged me back to the room. Reaching the porch, Bobby threw me to the door, watching me trip over the porch and landing hard against the door. Pain shot through my body as I laid there, eyes shut tight, trying to ignore the pain. " I said I'm sorry!"

"Don't be such a pussy, Cas." Bobby whispered, leaning against the post. Opening my eyes, I looked up at the drunken giant, his eyes were red and puffy, his mouth was still drooling like a dog over a bone. " I just saved your worthless ass. You coulda gotten yourself killed."

"I could have out ran that fat bastard."

"Drop that tone, boy."

"Bobby, I said I'm sorry." I said, trying to sound apologetic. I wasn't trying to fight him, I really was sorry. Why was he still fighting me? "What more can I say?"

Bobby's glare turned hard, like he wanted to say more to me. I wanted to run, I wanted to get away from him. Why am I fearing him? "Just go to bed."