Summary: Castiel had been waiting for his vessel for years, he hadn't expected Harry Potter however. Or the mess that came with him.

Rating: M

Warning: Slash, violence


Castiel had been waiting for Harry for centuries.

His conception had been painted in blue flame across the heavens, illuminated by strings of burning stars and Castiel had seen God's plans unfolding before him and waited, watching the earth with emotionless patience for the appearance of his vessel.

He hadn't been what Castiel had expected.

Harry was a fragile, broken creature full of human weakness and emotion and Castiel wasn't sure he would be able to bear the strain of being a vessel. He had been all delicate bones and big eyes and his paper skin had appeared translucent under the watery flashes of bar light. Castiel had felt for the first time something like doubt as he watched his would be body.

"He stinks of sin" Zachariah whispered and his human form almost pulsed with feeling, the angel's true spirit causing burns to appear, tracing the bones in his hands angrily. Castiel watched his would-be-vessel intently and turned to his superior with confusion, his angelic body floating on the currents of air that moved around them

"What is- stink?"

His superior had made an odd noise, a noise that would have been laughter if Zachariah could laugh and his eyes flashed with smite in his human body. "You will find out soon Castiel, that is, if your Vessel can still smell after all that alcohol."

Castiel hadn't understood him at the time and turned towards Harry thoughtfully, watching as the man leant provocatively across the edge of a pool table, his limbs encased tight in his jeans and the long lean length of his torso exposed beneath the thin material of his shirt.

"Sinful" Zachariah echoed and disappeared, his human body groaning at the unnaturalness of his departure.

Castiel watched Harry as he drank and hunted and tried to destroy himself and wondered why God had chosen him, of all men, to house an angel. There was no devoutness in Harry, no acknowledgment of any power higher than himself; he was not like the other angels' vessels and Castiel wondered enough to feel something like doubt as he watched the delicate, thin limbed sinner before him. He wasn't high on the angel hierarchy and knew not to ask too many questions and it was with detached acceptance he approached Harry for the first time.

Later he would wish he had asked.

Harry's soulful chuckle echoed; scratching at the back his consciousness and his physical body flinched automatically at the sound even as his soul reached out towards the pulsating awareness of the wizard's soul, soothing Harry's frayed emotions and old pain.

Harry's magic burnt like poison through his body, crackling at his fingertips and Castiel reined it back into his vessel, coiling up the power like thread until it rested uneasily wrapped around their entwined spirits. Harry was different from other vessels in many ways and his magical heritage was one of the biggest differences.

There was a reason wizards were not generally be used as vessels; they didn't sleep.

Lazarus Rising

Dean awoke to memories of green.

His first breath was like sandpaper rubbing against the insides of his throat and his senses went into overload at the smell and feel and sight of dark dirt all around him. His muscles ached and groaned in protest when he started to move, but the need to escape, to live was strong.

At least for now.

Dean clawed his way like a wild animal out of the ground, his fingers tangling bloody and raw into the grass around his own grave and the sunlight that slapped at his face was almost enough to make him forget about the dark coffin and the years in hell. For a moment Dean was content to stare upwards and remember what it felt like to just live. He breathed deep and started to walk, blinded by sunlight.

Even the sun dimmed in comparison to the image of a shinning pair of green eyes that was burnt into his consciousness.


Bobby wasn't moving.

He was just stood there, staring and shuddering, his hands slack on his gun while the world went to hell around them.

"Bobby!" Dean's voice was hoarse over the crackling of exploding light bulbs and he raised his gun, feeling his muscles shake against the cool metal and got ready to shoot at the figure that stepped lightly before them. The ground crunched beneath the demon's feet and he tightening his fingers around the trigger desperate for the devil traps to hold the small form before it reached them. They didn't, but Dean hadn't ever really thought they would.

"I know him" Bobby whispered and his voice, choked up with emotion and certainty was enough to make Dean pause and spin away from the big sunlit emerald eyes that watched him steadily.

The light flashed into white brilliance before fading to shadows and he narrowed his eyes to stare at the thing that had managed to drag him from hell. Lightning crackled in sharp lines across the backdrop of rotting wood and devil traps and a small, pale face was illuminated momentarily before the man disappeared back in ominous gloom.

"Harry, Harry?" Bobby almost stumbled in his haste and Dean only just managed to grab at his arms before the older hunter flew desperately into the small approaching figure. Bobby's mouth exploded hot air against him and Dean shuddered in confusion as the man mouthed the single words over and over like a mantra against his skin.

"That's not who you think it is" he hissed and hated the demon or whatever the hell it was for using a body that meant so much to his friend. Bobby was all coiled muscles and longing beneath his hands and his fingers shook as he held him back, stepping just slightly in front of the man, in the same protective way he always had with Sam before his brother had realised what he was doing.

A light bulb exploded above them and no one moved as glass shattered into glitter, falling into dark hair and across pale skin where it glowed like diamonds and twinkled in the twilight as the demon possessed man paused before them in the spill of light.

The man was small and skinny, his wrists tiny circles of thin bone and spider-webbing veins and his throat fluttered with his heartbeat in a way that was so human that Dean's hand hesitated around his gun. His face was delicately built, all chiselled finery and marble smoothness and his skin was encrusted with shards of diamond sparkling glass and the golden glow of power.

Bobby had gone still and he seemed to fold up into his grief as he examined the youth, realisation cold and horrible etched into his features as he stumbled backwards, flinched as the demon stepped forward, focused on the Dean.

"Who are you" he demanded, inching so the table full of knives was between them. His fingers scrambled through the razor edges and cool handles.

"I'm the one that gripped you tight and raised you from perdition" the light had spilled over the demon's face and his skin was stretched taunt and white over the sharp edges of his cheekbones.

"Yeah thanks for that" Dean sneered at the demon and didn't hesitate as he thrust his blade down past the middle ribs and into the beings heart. He tried to ignore Bobby's pained gasp and stared at the blood that blossomed and bubbled around the knife, coating the blade until it shone like a rose pinned to a dinner jacket.

The demon blinked and the pouting smear of his mouth folded up into an angry line, making him look like a petulant child as he wrapped thin hands around the handle, fingers curling into the wooden grooves. Dean wasn't even that surprised when he drew the blade out unharmed and nervously glanced at Bobby's grey face. Bobby's hands were empty and he shook his head and made to move forward but there was no real fight in him and the demon glanced languidly over the sharp edge of his shoulder at his approach.

Dean didn't know what he saw in those eyes but the older hunter stumbled to a halt and stopped dead as the demon swung back around, his face perfectly calm and illuminated into a visage of gold power and white magnificence.

"We need to talk, Dean" The man said softly and stared intently up into Dean's face. His eyes were full of stars and Dean couldn't understand a single emotion on the man's face as he spoke. Fear; slick like oil slithered down his throat as Bobby suddenly crumpled to the floor, his limbs folding up weakly beneath him. "Alone"

"Who are you?" Dean hissed, wishing for the demon's death and bent down next to Bobby, his fingers pressing against the man's neck almost hesitantly.

"Your friend is alive. I would not..."

The demon possessed man blinked once before the mask of iced indifference slid back across his features, making them cold and inhuman as he answered "Castiel"

"I figured that much, I mean what are you" Dean's anger was enough to send him to his feet and his fear was enough to keep him there, he didn't know what was going on but his body acted automatically, looming over the small figure as if he could intimate the man. He didn't forget that the being wasn't human but it was nice to pretend. For a moment anyway.

Castiel stared up at him from beneath the too long, curling curtain of dark hair, tendrils brushing at butter-knife cheeks and spiralling past the pouting smear of his lips and suddenly frowned, his calm face wrinkled gently in a display of emotion that Dean hadn't seen yet. It was slightly mesmerising; whatever the demon was that had raised him from hell he had chosen his meat-suit well; the kid was scarily attractive, almost angelic looking in the pale blur of dawn light.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord"

Dean could have laughed at the irony


The Angel didn't stay long.

Just long enough to threaten Dean with hell and spew off sentence after sentence filled with the words 'apocalypse' and 'end of the world'. Dean didn't really listen; his mind was still all over the place, unable to focus on anything but the slashes of sunlight on the horizon and those giant emerald eyes that were watching him with such intensity.

He had been to the end of the world before, seen hell and apocalypses and he just didn't give a shit. He wanted Bobby to wake up and to find Sam again. The being before him sighed softly and his hand suddenly reached out towards Dean in a surprisingly human gesture, his small fingers pressed against the smouldering handprint that was curled around his shoulder and Dean's skin felt full of needles and hellfire.

He flinched away and stared up into those big, angelic eyes and was surprised at the sympathy that shone out of him. The man's mouth started to form words, his eyebrows still knotted across his forehead in emotion that made the angel's usually blank features look older and so much more human.

"Who are you" Dean asked again and it was the angel that flinched away this time and Dean could all but see the war that sparked off behind those, brilliantly bright eyes and for a moment Dean almost expected a reply.

The sound of wings echoed in his ears as the angel disappeared.

Authors notes:

Painfully short first chapter, bear with me. This is a sequel, if you don't know what is going on that will be why.

Pairing hasn't been decided yet, so if you have any preference please say. Not sure about this fic, so if you like it, please say so.

Reviews are always wanted.