Black clouds sprawl across the sky, billowing in from the West. In the eerie silence of the night the low rumble of thunder and the pitter patter of raindrops on rooftops is all that can be heard. The wind howls down the deserted suburban street. A streak of hot silver rips through the night sky.
A figure moves through the shadows, unseen, even by the bright moon. Quickly and quietly, moving through the bushes, not even stopping as thorns carve into bare skin.
Another loud flash of lightning illuminates the blackened sky. The sound of glass shattering awakens a man from his slumber. A light is flicked on. The man's bright blue eyes are open wide with fear. Carefully he scrambles out of bed and picks up the baseball bat conveniently placed next to his bedroom door. With his heart pounding inside his chest he pulls the door handle down and makes his way downstairs.
The pitch black makes it difficult to see as the blue eyed man heads closer towards the rattling kitchen door. He tries to tighten his grip on the bat, but his sweaty palms make it very difficult. As he reaches the wooden door he pauses. The adrenaline pumping through his veins makes his breathing very erratic. The man attempts to flatten his messy black hair with one hand and tries to calm himself down before he cautiously opens the door.
Inside the small kitchen the only source of light available is that of the moon, which casts its intrusive beams through a broken window. Pieces of glass lie all over the floor and on the smooth worktop. With his senses on high alert he tiptoes over to the window. His heart misses a beat. Something cold and hard presses into his back. Before he has a chance to think a strong hand smelling of dirt and gasoline is clamped tight over his mouth.
"Drop the bat" a mysterious voice growls. The blue eyed man, fearing for his life, drops the bat.
"Good, now I'm going to remove my hand. If you scream then I will shoot you, got it?"
The man merely nods his head before the hand is removed from his mouth. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief as he is guided out of the kitchen.
"Sit" he hears a gruff voice order. He complies sitting on his own couch "what's your name?"
"C-cas" he tells the unidentifiable figure that still lingers in the shadows. The only visible sign, that there even is a person there, is the shining barrel of a gun pointed right at him. Suddenly a light is flicked on casting shadows across everything in the room. Cas for the first time gets to see what this home invader actually looks like...
It's not what he expected at all. The man is quite young, in his early 30's at the most, with rough stubble on his face. The man's face is also covered in dirt and lots of bloody scratches. His bottom lip looks swollen; possibly he's taken a punch or his nerves have gotten the better of him and he's been biting it. One very striking feature of this man is his tired green eyes. They look broken, however Cas can see this tiny little twinkle in them that he's never seen in anyone's eyes before. The man holding the gun doesn't look like the kind of criminals you'd see on TV; he's way too good looking. It doesn't look like he has any tattoos, although there is hardly any skin on show to prove that assumption. The home invader appears to be pretty much covered from head to toe. Muddy brown boots, denim jeans and a damp plaid shirt.
"Well, Cas this little unplanned meeting of ours can go one of two ways. Option one is that you just sit there and be good or option two, which neither of us will really like, is that you resist and I have to put a bullet in you. So which is it going to be?" the green eyed man explains looking right at Cas.
"Why are you here? What do you want?" Cas questions completely ignoring his captor. Something about this guy is different. He doesn't seem like a criminal at all. Nothing about him screams bad.
