Impossibly Possible.

3

[Edited]

"Deans soulmate is an angel." Gabriel confirmed with a knowing smirk. Causing Dean to furrow his brows and clench his jaw. "The angel Castiel." Gabe finished, the name causing Deans wrist to itch. The last thing the man wanted to think about right now was his soulmate.

"Are you just gonna gloss over the fact you two are soulmates?!" Dean shouted, pointing between Sam and Gabriel. "And the fact that angels are real? I mean come on Sam you believe this shit?" Dean asked, gesturing his hands angrily.

"I don't know Dean, I admit this is all a little weird, but what am I supposed to think?" Sam asked, shrugging. He honestly wasn't sure how to feel, or what to do. The evidence was right in front of him, in black ink.

"This is fucking crazy, I can't do this right now. I'm going for a drive." Dean shouted, annoyance thick in his voice as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door of the motel.

"What about the case Dean?" Sam shouted. Truthfully worried more about his brother well-being.

"Get your angel fucktoy to take you." Dean retorted, slamming the door behind him. He opened the drivers door, before slamming it shut again. He looked up, staring at the sky. His wrist aching. He leaned against the car, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was no fucking way his soulmate was a fucking angel. It didn't matter what she looked like, there's no way he would be with an angel. What absolute bullshit.

"Fuck!" Dean shouted, punching a wooden telephone pole. His fist collided with the dense material and a crunch sound makes its way through his ears. He rolled his eyes, looking at his now broken middle finger. He whispered some more profanities as he climbed in the car, taking off to the next E.R. he could find.

"You broke your finger how?" The doctor questioned, placing the splint on Deans finger.

"I punched a telephone pole." Dean muttered, almost shamefully. He was best off telling to truth to the doctor, especially since he was already lying about everything else.

"Well can you refrain from punching any more poles Mr. Weaver." The doctor suggested, side-eyeing him. Dean just gave a solid nod in return, thanking the doctor once he had finished and left. Not his fault his fucking soulmate was an angel. He didn't even think they existed until this afternoon. From what he knew from dealing with Gabriel, they were pricks. He wondered if his soulmate was at least hot. Like a nice set of tits or a good ass, either would work. Both would be great. The hell, it didn't matter, he'd never actually be with her.

When Dean got back to the motel, Sam and Gabe were gone. Good riddance to them, he needed time to himself. He thought about what Gabriel had said, about angels never having soulmates until now. Why would the Winchesters be the ones to cause angels to have soulmates? And what the actual fuck? Angels are real? How do they even know they can believe a word out of that guys mouth. It could just be another trick for all they knew. At the same time, what did they have to lose from believing him. It shouldn't be that surprising. If demons are real why can't angels be? Did demons have soulmates? How would that work if they just took whatever body they wanted to, would they get that persons soulmate? He had so many questions. But he didn't necessarily want answers. He didn't even want to think about all this shit. He was exhausted and the pain in his wrist wasn't helping his mood.

Dean flopped back on the bed, not meaning to, but falling asleep after only a few minutes. The stress must have gotten to him, he was beyond exhausted. He didn't dream of much. He dreamt of driving, listening to his music, enjoying the road. Then something caught his eye in the rear view mirror, a male by the looks of the body shape. He couldn't see much of anything else. They maintained eye contact for a few moments, but Dean moved his eyes back to the road, ignoring the man in the backseat. He'd had this dream before, multiple times, and every time, the figure goes to speak...

Dean shot up, awakening in a cold sweat. That dream always makes him feel weird. He shuffled tiredly from the bed to the fridge, grabbing a beer and trying to ignore the aching throb in his wrist. Dean wondered if angels could watch over people, and if his angel was watching him. Usually your wrist only aches if your soulmate can see you, so unless they were there in the room, they were looking from somewhere else. He looked around, he saw the rooms curtains closed, and the door still locked. He checked in the bathroom, and the closet, almost anywhere he thought someone could hide. The room was empty. Dean rubbed his wrist, trying to alleviate the ache, but it didn't do anything for the Winchester. If the damn angel would show herself, he'd do the one thing that stops the pain altogether and kiss her. After that she could get the fuck out of his life, he could just do whatever he wanted, pain free. Of course, that wouldn't happen though, because Dean never got what he wanted.

He finished off his beer, and sat on the couch, switching on the T.V. It was late at this point, so it was just re-runs of old movies and shows, but nothing looked interesting enough to pay attention to. He stood up and pressed the button to power off the television, but instead of powering off, static displayed itself across the screen. A faint ringing began to sound in his ears, causing Dean's hands to fly up to cover them as it got louder. He dropped to his knees and winced in pain from the high pitched noise, then it all went silent. He opened his eyes and let go of his ears. He stood up, looked around in front of him, but there was nothing there. Dean let out a sigh of relief, a small smile on his face. He didn't want to deal with the supernatural right at the moment, he just wanted to shower and have another drink.

The Winchester dropped his shoulders, relaxing, and then he felt it. A small breath of air on the back of his neck. He froze, eyes straight forward. He slowly moved his hand to the gun that sat in his belt, gripping the butt of it. He had to move before it did. Dean swung around, holding the barrel of the gun right against the strangers chest. He quickly noticed it was just a regular looking person. A male about his age, late twenties. Cold blue eyes and dark chocolate hair. He also had a small stubble running along his jaw. He looked the person over, slightly judging their choice of attire. A white button up, a black jacket, and a tan trench coat? What kind of fashion sense did this guy have?

"Who the fuck are you?" Dean asked, keeping the gun pressed to the forehead of the stranger. The man reached a hand out, gripping Deans bare shoulder. Dean cried out in pain, his skin simmering as a hand print burned its way into his shoulder, he dropped the gun and held his shoulder with his other hand.

"Hello Dean. I apologize, I did not mean to hurt you." The stranger said, retracting his hand. He said he was sorry, but his face was completely indifferent.

"I said, who the fuck are you?" Dean shouted, gripping his shoulder as the searing pain began to subside. The other man looked at his hand for a second before returning his gaze to Dean, and that's when he felt it. The ache.

"My name is Castiel."

Hello! So this is an authors note as I'm going back and editing/re-editing these chapters. I changed the tense I was using from present tense to past tense, I will be using past tense in future stories and want to keep it consistent, if you noticed any errors in the past chapters or notice any while you continue feel free to point them out so I can fix them!! thx -author