Falling. Falling through the night, stars and black sheets of velvet rushing past him as he tumbled through the air. He couldn't catch his breath, and even if he could he would have lost it when his back and tattered wings slammed against a metal roof.
His blue eyes were wide as he stared up into the night sky, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trapped on the beach. And he very well was trapped. He looked towards a soft glowing light, terror coursing through his veins when he saw the sight before him.
There was a house, and in that house sat a man, reading his evening paper by his fire place. But that's not what caused Castiel the sudden fear, for above his fireplace was a set of magnificent golden wings. The wings of an arch angel. This man was no ordinary man. He was a hunter, the most feared hunter among all the angels. And Castiel had fallen right onto his shed.
He felt hopeless, even more so when he heard a door open and the sound of boots crunching on gravel. He desperately tried to stand and get away but his legs didn't work as he still gasped for air. An aluminum ladder slammed against the side of the roof and shook slightly when the man began his ascent.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here." The man smirked and reached towards Castiel, his fingers wrapping around his ankle.
Castiel whimpered and tried to cower away from him but his naked body slid across the tin roof and fell over the side, hitting the gravel road below. He gasped in pain as large rocks sliced at his tender skin while little pieces of rubble lodged themselves into the fresh wounds.
The hunter jumped down from the ladder and knelt down beside the angel. "You're the first one I've seen with black wings. What have you don't to deserve them?" He asked.
Castiel stayed silent, he understood the man, but the man wouldn't be able to understand him. The angels spoke in a language of their own. No one but them could speak it. That's why they were misunderstood. Why the hunters hunted them. They thought they were just wild beasts who couldn't be understood. They had a language that sounded like Tongues so they were written off as animals.
He smirked then straightened up and grabbed Castiel's hair, pulling him against the gravel and into the tin shed. As he pulled him Castiel cried out in pain and grabbed his hand in hopes of relieving some of the pain.
When they entered the shed the man threw Castiel into an almost complete ring of black dust. The hunter pulled more of the dust out of his pocket and blew it into the air. As if by magic the dust completed the circle, caging Castiel inside.
"Mountain Ash," he explained, "Some of the strongest magic on Earth."
He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. He had given up. There was no way to cross that line. And even if he were to try he would die due to the concentration of the magic.
The hunter smirked when he saw his defeat and strode across the room, flipping on an antique wooden radio.
"Speak." He commanded and turned back towards Castiel.
'Why?' Came a weak, crackling voice from the radio.
The hunter grinned when his invention worked then began to pace around the room. "What is your name?"
Castiel squirmed in pain as he laid on the floor and kept his chin pressed against his bare chest. 'Castiel. And you are the hunter Dean Winchester.'
He smirked in content. "You've heard of me."
'We've all heard and feared the name.' He replied quietly yet dared not meet his eyes.
"Well I'm flattered then. Means I'm doing my job right."
'We're not monsters.' He murmured.
"What was that?" He asked and tilted his head towards him. "I didn't quite catch that."
'We're not the monsters you think us to be. We're soldiers of God.'
"Yeah and look where God left the earth. In ruin. He's dead. And so should all of you."
'Then why do you let me live?'
"I need information."
'Of what?'
"Of what makes you go. Of how you work. I need to know everything. Especially now that I can hear you."
'And then you will kill me.' He stated as if he had known the answer all along.
He nodded "And then I will kill you. You're wings are too pretty to let go."
Castiel curled up in a tight ball and wrapped his wings around his body. He didn't want the hunter to see the single tear roll down his cheek. He didn't want him to know just how truly weak he really was.
Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Goodnight Castiel. I'll most likely kill you tomorrow." He said cheerfully, and with that, he left the shed with the slam of a door and Castile was cast into utter darkness. Such darkness that it even hid his pitch wings.
'This will truly be the end of all things.' He whispered to himself before his body went into a sleep like state.
