Castiel Makes an Angel

1

I threw the book I was holding across the room and it exploded against the wall, ancient pages scattering across my messy study. Papers and ancient texts make the room like a mad scientist lives there. I‘m an organized person, came from being in military school, and let me tell you, it is not easy to forget to clean up after yourself when you run 200 laps whenever something is amiss. But on the field of battle, who gives a damn if you’re sloppy? And right now I was on a mission.

Two days ago Dad showed up. My dad is Bobby Singer, the man, the myth, the legend. Whatever. Him, mom, and me agreed to tell no one, because it could make any of us target’s to other hunters. Anyway, Dad shows up with these two guys. The Winchesters. Yeah they’re legends too, but that is beside the point. They came by after Dean being in the Pit for four months. They needed to know who carried him out and my mom, being the best psychic this side of the Mississippi, was more than happy to help.

My mom and I have this deal. I can hunt until I almost kill myself, then I take up the Psychic practice like her. I had never even gotten close. Like I said, I’m not sloppy. So I had no clue about anything, I stayed up in my room, waiting for my Dad to come up and see me like he always did. As far as the rag tag ‘community’ of hunters knows, Pamela is a very hot, very single woman, without a daughter. We all liked to keep it that way.

So I was in my room, when a blast of emotion hit me. Don’t ask how I sensed it, I just did. It was fear and awe, and pain, and it was overwhelming. My eyes stung and tears poured from my lids. I wasn’t upset, but my eyes were watering. I blinked and it stopped. I stood up, and I heard a scream from downstairs. MOM! I had run down to find my mother, eyeless, with the séance table set up. The candles were still flickering, and I slammed my hand onto the table, a fire burning in my veins.

“You listen to me. I don’t know who you are, or what you are, but I am going to find you, and I am going to destroy. You sick ass little friends won’t find anything but scraps in a dumpster halfway across the Atlantic. Do you hear me?! I am going to kill you!” I screamed. The candles rose up and then extinguished themselves. I ripped off the séance fabric and threw it across the room. I turned to my Mom and Dad on the ground cradling her. Sam had run to phone and ambulance and I took my mothers’ hands and kissed them.

“Mom. I’m going to fix this. I promise. I’ll fix this if I die. And then when some stupid ass bales me out, you are finally going to teach me psychic stuff. Just like we agreed. Mom? Mom? You have to stay with me.” She moaned a bit and I sighed. I knew what had to be done. I started hiding all the supernaturalism equipment in the hope chest in the living room. I covered it with the thin layer of tablecloths and stuffed animals.

In less than an hour my mother was on her way to the hospital. She had told me to stay here, and I did. Dad and the Winchesters left, apologizing and promising to call me when they got a lead. They obviously wanted to talk about this, but not in front of a grieving ‘friend’. I was an old friend visiting. So I stood alone on our old porch and took out the little dagger I always had stuffed down my boot leg. I made a long gash all the way up my arm and stared up at the sky, the blood dripping down my arm onto my white tank top.

“I know you can hear me Castiel you bastard. I swear to you on the blood that falls on this Earth, I am going to find you and I will never stop trying to kill you. Never.” I vowed as he blood stained the ground. I walked inside and bound up my arm hurriedly, dropping some of mom’s ‘Magic Potion for Shit’ on it. It sizzled and burned, and I winced. I started looking for something that could raise a soul from hell and burn out a woman’s eyes. Nothing.

So here I am, my arm partially healed, my study a mess and no leads. Dad hadn’t called, and neither had the Winchesters. I huffed angrily and kicked a pillow over to the open window. And out. I cursed and jumped out, picking up the silk cushion. I hold it to my chest and for the first time actually feel like crying. I squeeze the pillow, and hear something. A kind of keening. I didn’t know what it was and I had left my knives inside. I turned around and jumped through the window and slammed the closed, pouring salt on the ledge from the emergency bag under the sill. I did the same everywhere else, and the keening persisted.

I grabbed my various knives and stuffed them down my boots, up my sleeves, and anywhere else tactically useful. Then I hunkered down running over every exorcism I knew. Suddenly the keening intensified and I flinched. I put my hands over my ears and focused on the one lesson my mother had given me. She always said I would need it for hunts, and she was right. I used it on every single hunt I had ever been on. Sensing. I closed my eye and focused on the house, isolating my spirit and looked for another.

There was a kind of light hovering around my shoulders. And I focused on that. It was out of place and looked supernatural. I breathed in and turned a bit so I could touch it and ran my hands through the space. The keening increased again, but I could hear a kind of whispering underneath that. Like when a ghost is trying to talk to you. I focused on that and reached through the high pitched keening to the voice, looking for a face or a sign. The presence shifted, as though avoiding my gaze. Why?

I focused instead on the voice. It cleared and the keening disappeared, leaving behind a huge and echoing space that the voice filled perfectly. I shivered as I felt the presence in my head. I had built this place long ago, in my head, as a child for these kinds of things. Being a little girl, I wanted a palace because in my mind I was a princess. I wanted it to be big enough to host a thousand people at my balls. Funnily enough whenever I used it for my hunts, whoever got in my Hall usually ran around smashing things I had set up for that use.

I focused on a chair and a gilt dining chair appeared. I tried to force the entity into the seat and a blinding white light hovered over the gold and velvet of the seat. I sighed. Close enough. I focused myself into the room and stood in front of the chair. The light floated towards me. It looked like a curious dog. I reached a hand out to it and it stopped moving.

“Who are you? I’m Angela. I can help you. I’m a huntress of the dark. Let me help you.”  Said in my good cop voice. The light seemed to shake and it got bigger. I stepped back. And the voice boomed around the room.

“Angela, you have to listen! Can you hear me?” It boomed. It echoed too much for me to tell if it was male or female.

“Of course I can hear you. Tell me what you need.” I said calmly, used to the ghost panic.

“You must not fulfill your blood oath. It is fruitless and the situation is not what it seems.” It boomed and I froze. I reached out to this thing, with all my will power and searched for its face. I pushed against its will and focused.  “Stop! You can’t look upon me. You will suffer the same fate as your mother.” This was what had attacked my mom and it was in my head. I growled, my will power forcing the thing to show me its face. “I warned you. Look upon the glory of God.” It said in a sad voice.

Even now I can’t describe what it looked like. But not what I expected. This was no demon. This was as far from that as possible. This was Heavenly. A blinding light surrounded the body and I saw its face. Its skin was white, no gold. Or maybe black. I can never remember. It had huge wings that took up my entire hall and they weren’t fully extended. I gasped at the sight and my eyes began to weep. I refused to fall like my mother had and I forced myself to look at the things eyes. These I could see. They were human, with blue irises. Like a Caribbean ocean at midday.

“I am going to find you! I am going to make you pay!” I shouted into the light and a large amount of weaponry flew at it. It waved a hand at them, and they all moved away from it. I forced the thing from my mind and it left without a struggle. I left my mind and opened my eyes. I could still see. I had seen it. I was angry at it, but also a bit worried. That thing was mighty and magnificent. How would I kill it, and what was it?

The phone rang it. I picked up before it stopped and said, “Go for Angela.”

“Girl, never say that again.” Dad snarled over the phone. I smiled despite myself.

“Sure thing old wolf. What’s up? Got a lead?” I said seriously.

“Yeah, we’re summoning it Get down here.” And he gave me an address. I was gone in five minutes. I got to a dump in the middle of a field and jumped out, a bag of gear on my shoulder. I kicked the doors to the cow shed open and a pair of guns were aimed at me. I started singing about putting the guns down and Dean and Dad lowered the guns. I glared at them both and dumped my stuff onto the floor. White symbols were scrawled along the walls. I knew most of them, and I added a few of my own, one’s mom used for dangerous or vengeful spirits.