Saved by an Angel (a Castiel love story)

Chapter 2: Can you hear me?

A/N: Hey!! This is the 2nd chapter. I want people to keep reading otherwise I'll just stop writing the story. Also, in this chapter, I want to add more dialogue between the characters and pull in a few more POV's to make the story more 'colorful'. Please comment, rate, follow, get it out there, 'cus I don't have facebook or twitter. Thanks :)

Dean's POV:

I'm watching Kristy like a hawk. I can tell it's annoying her endlessly from the dirty look she sends me over one of the ancient texts that her father owns. After about twenty minutes of this she stands, stretches briefly, and walks past me. I track her movements as she goes and she sends me another irritated look.

"Take a picture Dean, it'll last longer," she says as she disappears into the kitchen.

"A picture won't tell me if you're alive or not," I yell back.

Her hand reemerges long enough to flip me the bird. I'm beginning to think she's too much like me. I hear the sound of the fridge opening and bottles clanking against each other.

"Get me one two, will you?" I call.

"No," she replies, but I hear more clinking and then the door close.

There's more racket, and I realize she's in the pantry-probably snacking like the girl she is. Sure enough, she returns holding a bag of tortilla chips, a jar of salsa, and two beers. She hands one of the beers to me, then plops her ass down right next to me.

"Find anything?" she asks.

"Just a headache."

She nods in agreement and pops the lid to the salsa-well...she tries anyway. Giving up, she hands the jar to me with a scowl. My sister, the almighty hunteress that has taken down vengeful spirits, demons, has gone to Hell and come back, has been deafeated by the damn Pace salsa jar lid. The irony is too much to keep me from laughing as I pop the lid open with ease.

"Shut up," she says with a scowl as she takes the jar back.

I look down at the book on my lap. Nothing is ever easy in the hunting business-especially research. Almost as if she hears my thoughts, Kris rolls her eyes.

"Why is it so hard to just make a damn list of stuff that can rip a soul from Hell?" she mutters.

She takes a chip and dips strait into the jar. My sister, the proper lady. I snort and take a swig of beer.

"Ugh, because that would be too easy," I answer, taking another swig.

"Pfft, I'm starting to think this is some elaborate hoax that Alistair is playing and I'm going to wake up in Hell again."

She recaps the salsa, closes the chips and lays her head on my shoulder affectionately.

"I've been having the same thoughts," I finally say, my voice gruff.

She picks her head up and looks at me. Since she got back, her eyes turned a peircing, deep violet. They used to be green-like Bobby's, like Sam, like mine. But now they're different, almost unnatural. I know my sister though-she's 100% human. She's good. If anyone deserved to be pulled from Hell, it's her.

"I hope that we're wrong. I hope this is reality," she says softly.

"I definitely agree."

"You don't sleep do you?" she asks finally.

I look at her then, really look at her. She's changed. I can see it in every plane of her face, in her voice when she talks.

"I try not to," I mutter.