Only Angel - Castiel

Chapter One

You're sitting in the corner booth of a small diner in an even smaller town just south of Charleston, West Virginia. You're people watching as it's a reminder of the normal life that is always just out of reach. There's always going to be some sort of monster terrorizing innocent people that holds you back from normalcy. You were born and raised a hunter, it was your duty to save people.

Your eyes are glued on the entrance when a tall man walks in. Instantly, your attention follows him. His mid-neck-length hair messily parts on his forehead, giving him the look of curtain bangs, and his eyes look aged beyond their years. Plagued by what at first glance seems to be heartbreak and things that he can't speak of.

You watch as he sits at the bar and orders a coffee. You decide he has a secret to tell, and you want to know what. Without realizing, you are staring at this man, drinking his coffee, until he leaves. It's not like he notices; his eyes focus on the wood grain of the bar the entire time he's there.

He pays for his coffee and leaves. You quickly throw a ten on your table, not worrying about the change. Hurriedly grabbing the duffel bag that's sitting at your feet, you throw it over your shoulder and leave the diner. You look around, but he seems to have disappeared. Dissatisfied, you take a few steps down the sidewalk when you're pulled into an alley and your back is pressed hard against the brick wall of the diner.

"What do you want?" The man hisses at you.

You're quick. Faster reflexes than most people, you note.

"What do you mean?" You ask, his arm firmly pressed against your collarbone.

"You were watching me in there. Why?" He looks down at you and you get a better look into those eyes. They're tired. Begging for a restful sleep.

So he has good instincts as well, you file away into the back of your mind. And horrible sleep.

"Let's just say you piqued my interest. You're a hunter, are you not?"

You see shock quickly register on his face, but it's masked just as fast as it came.

"How do you know that?" He asks, his tone unrelenting.

"I've been in the game long enough to clock one when I see them." You say, rolling up your sleeve to show him the anti-possession tattoo you got on your wrist years ago.

Finally, his arm is removed from your chest and settles at his side. You roll your sleeve back down as he points a questioning look at you before finally speaking. "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you here on a case?"

"Sort of." He says, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"My name's Jonesy." He gives you a look that you've come to know all too well. A look that asks if your parents were really stupid enough to give you a name like that. "My last name is Jones. I've been called Jonesy for as long as I can remember," You say, answering his unasked question.

"I'm Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Winchester as in John?" You cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah. He was my dad." You can see grief flash across his face as he says this.

Oh.

You'd heard a lot about the famed Winchester family all throughout your life. You'd honestly started to believe they were a myth that hunters made up to inspire themselves to do better. Someone had told you a while ago about John's death. Again, you just believed it to be folklore.

"I'm sorry. I've heard a lot about your family. You guys are like hunting royalty."

He nods his head but doesn't answer, so you continue speaking. "What brings a famous Winchester to Whiteridge, West Virginia anyways?"

"I'm hunting crossroads demons." He says these words like he doesn't want to share them, and you can tell that the only reason he does is because he's desperate to get them off his mind.

"Trying to get out of a deal?" You've dealt with your fair share of crossroads demons. Enough to know that people only travel to the smaller towns when they're desperate. When they know they're SOL.

"Something like that, yeah." His hand travels to the back of his neck again and you clock it as his nervous tell.

You knew he was hiding a secret and you were right. What that secret might be, you weren't sure yet.

"Why don't you let me help you? I just finished hunting a poltergeist and could use something to do," you offer.

If you want to get to the bottom of whatever secret he's hiding, you have to be initiated in. You know it's a long shot. From what you've heard about the Winchester family, you know that they hardly trust outsiders.

The stories you've heard seem to prove true as Sam hesitates, but are quickly refuted when he says fine. Shocked, you stare at him for a second.

"I was heading back to my motel room until nightfall. Do you want to trail behind me?" He offers.

"I'll just come with you," you shrug and he gives you a confused look. "My car is stolen, I was planning on ditching it soon anyways."

Sam matches your shrug and leads you to his own car, parked on the opposite side of the diner. You try to hide it, but you are awestruck.

"A '67 Impala? How'd you get your hands on a car like this?" You ask as you slide into the passenger seat.

Sam turns the keys in the ignition before turning to you, and you can see some sort of emotion that you can't quite pinpoint, on his face. It's a strange mix of guilt, anger, and determination. "The car belonged to my brother," he finally says.

From the tone in his voice, you assume that his brother is dead. "I'm sorry."

He kind of just shrugs you off as if to say 'what can you do' and pulls the car out of the parking lot. The drive to the motel is silent other than the hum of the engine and a selection of classic rock playing quietly from a white iPod connected to the radio.

When Sam pulls into the motel parking lot, he turns off the car and sits in silence for a minute. Finally, he turns to you and speaks. "If you're in, there needs to be some ground rules."

You nod your head in understanding. If you were hunting crossroads demons and a stranger decided to tag along, you'd have rules too.

Sam takes your nod as a sign to continue. "First off, I hardly sleep. If you wake up in the middle of the night and I'm not there, don't panic and don't come looking for me. Please."

You write this off as another secret he's keeping. "Okay. What else?"

Sam sighs, "A man named Bobby frequently calls me. If my phone is ever unattended, don't answer it. In fact, don't say anything about what we're doing to anyone. All I need is for that information to get relayed back to him."

More secrets. "So what you're saying is that we're going off the radar."

"Exactly."

"Got it," you nod in agreement to his terms. "Although I have to ask. If this mission is so top secret, why are you letting me tag along?"

He pauses as if he himself doesn't even know the answer to that question. "Think of it like this, Jonesy. You piqued my interest." He finally answers, aping your earlier sentiments.

You quickly shoot him a kind smile before getting back to business. "One last question. What exactly is the mission here?"

Sam's facial expression changes into one of stone-cold determination. "We're going to bring my brother back from hell."

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

i no joke came up with this entire chapter in my head one night before bed and rushed to write it the next day. this was a silly little thing that i thought would probably sit in my drafts forever but my best friend convinced me to post it! so everyone thank halema, i love her so much. also! i am always open to feedback so don't feel shy to drop a comment or message!