Bad Moon Rising {Supernatural}

(3) Of Washington and Wilderness

I'm actually surprised that this story's gotten any traction. Sorry for very irregular updates, I just wasn't sure anyone would read this lol. I promise to buckle down with it if you guys really like it, though :3

Also, I kind of creep myself out when I write this story because it's a psychological thriller, and I've barely touched on all the mind-fuckery that will soon occur. Continue on.

   ...

Chapter Three:
Of Washington and Wilderness

I shot up from a dead sleep and struggled to sit up from all the blankets wrapped around me, clinging to the dampness of my sweat like a straight jacket; my was chest heaving up and down. I was trying to catch the breath I must have lost in my sleep; it felt entirely too real to have been a dream. 

     The room was cool, but I was slick with a thin layer of sweat that made my hair damp and stick the the back of my neck. I twisted the hair in my hands, lifting it to let my neck get some air.  

     "Trouble sleeping?" a deep, somber voice asked from my doorway.

     I jumped at the sudden sound, fighting off a terrified scream, and quickly looked back to the door where Castiel now stood, "Oh, Clarence, it's just you. You scared me."

     "I sense that I'm not the thing that's scaring you." He said, casually walking into the room, "And that you don't get scared very often."

     "Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong," I supplied vaguely, "What are you doing up, anyway? It's like three in the morning."

     "Angels require no sleep." 

     "That must be useful." I said, "I wish I didn't need sleep."

     "It's very boring, actually." He informed me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and meeting my gaze steadily, "I think being human suits you best."

     "Are you flirting with me, Cas?" I teased, smiling at him.

     He cocked his head a bit, puzzled, "Are you afraid to talk about this dream?"

     "I never said I had a dream." I replied bull-headedly, afraid to appear weak. "Or that I was scared."

     "You keep changing the subject." He said somberly. I quieted for a moment and he studied my face, trying to analyze what he could, "You think I won't believe you."

     I let out a frustrated sigh. He was right. The reason I wasn't opening my mouth and spilling my guts was because the dream held no sort of importance. I had heard about the Taken from Sam, Dean, and Castiel, and my subconscious made up a nightmare. That was all there was to it.

     God, that's a lie.

     The dream felt too real. The terror felt too real. And it didn't end immediately after I awoke. Even after the dream ended, I was looking around for the source of evil in all the darkest corners of the room.

     "You really wanna know?" I asked quietly. He gave one single nod to affirm this and I pinched the bridge of my nose before continuing on, "I had a dream about a Taken. It chased me through the dark and that was it, okay? It was stupid and didn't mean anything."

     I threw my hands back down on the bed, frustrated. Why did he need to know anyway? It was just a dumb dream, it's not like it was cosmic or had some sort of divine meaning to it. He was an angel and he had much more important things to be worrying about than one of my dreams.

     "Did you hear any voices, perhaps?" He inquired politely.

     I gave a small, uneasy half-laugh, "Wait, how in the hell did you know—"