Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

12 | Castiel [Requested]

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ALTHOUGH YOU PREFERRED TO KEEP IS DISCLOSED, you always were a firm believer in angels. As a hunter, you've seen evil take many forms and destroy many lives, but that didn't necessarily mean that you thought the world was vacant of goodness. You liked to think that life was like a game of balance—black and white, hate and love, happy and sad—and ultimately good and evil. So if demons were real, then why deny the existence of angels? It was a simple philosophy—at least in your mind—yet your brothers always seemed to shy away from the possibility whenever it came up in conversation. As years passed and the horrors of the world progressed, your faith had been tested, yet something drew you to the barn that night.

The shutters of the barn rustled and thrashed against the wooden beams of the roof, disturbing the idyllic aura of the night. Peering out of the kitchen window, you look towards the structure, your bright eyes filled with bewilderment. Sparks ignited against the dark sky, almost like fireworks were being shot off, as the barn continued to shake. Grabbing your jacket from the counter, you threw it on and made your way outside. As you take a shaky breath, a white smoke trails upward from your lips, the temperature frigid and icy. In the distance, a chalky silhouette materialized against the inky background, its stature standing tall and proud. The figure makes its way into the barn, and once its slips out of your view, you sprint towards the building unseen.

You hear a few salt rounds being shot as you inched closer to the barn, your footsteps ceasing once all the commotion had stopped. Words were exchanged quickly and judgments were made, but in the end the figure had won. Through a crack in the wood, you saw Bobby's body drop, your heart increasing in speed as the unknown man turned his full attention towards your brother.

"We need to talk, Dean," the man said, "Alone."

Dean paused, catching his breath. He looks around the barn, blinking a few times, his eyes subconsciously looking for you. When he doesn't see you, he turns back to the man, regaining his confidence.

"Okay," Dean replied, his hands gesturing outward, "We're alone."

The man's electric blue eyes squint, directing their focus pass Dean's shoulder. Your eyes meet momentarily through the opening of the wood, but as the shock festers in your chest, you flitch away from the wall. "No," the man answers, "Someone is outside." You take a few uneven inhales of oxygen, your throat threatening to close out of fear. How did he know you were there? Gathering your thoughts, you exit your hiding place and stand to your feet. Turning the corner, you reveal yourself to the two men as you walk through the back entrance.

Your eyes landed on Dean first, instinctively making sure he was okay, before turning to look at the unidentified man. All air seized to exist as you drunk him in for the first time. Handsome, divine, heavenly—all these words scrambled through your brain until finally they concluded to one thought—wings. He had wings?

They were long and charcoal black—absolutely stunning under the streaks of moonlight. You couldn't help but marvel at them with flawless wonder, theorizing about how soft they would feel under your touch. Reluctantly, you move your gaze to his face again, smiling a bit when you noticed him studying you with the same curiosity. His head tilts to the left, a expression that you could only describe as a confused puppy, encapsulating his stunning features. He examined you, mirroring your wonder, his beautiful blue eyes transfixed on your soul.

It was radiant and pure—very rare for a human—but intrigued him with a sense of astonishing mystery. There's an instant connection between the two of you, one that's undeniable, but Dean is quick to shut everything down within a second. Your brother steps in front of you, shielding you from the angel.

"Hey, trenchcoat," Dean interjects stiffly, "No bedroom eyes with my sister."

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