Beta by supernatgeekgrl at Livejournal. Thank you!

Of all the places and venues of the temporal variety under the light and grandeur of Heaven, this is the place I choose to be at.

I could be at any of the architectural triumphs mankind has left as a monument to their creative abilities; I could be in an untouched forest waiting for the first creature to inhale the freshest of air and view its unparalleled beauty. Yet I chose this place, one that has shadows. Not only of the light, but of the heart as well.

I stand waiting for what has brought me here. My wings feel heavy from the waiting; I am not used to gravity affecting my celestial being.

I am also not used to such anticipation.

I look around at my surroundings; it is crude – blackened ground for carriages to stay still in, a inane building that serves human nourishment, dirty, unwanted waste in random places on the ground, a smoking apparatus in a bush, and I know while I look at it, that the dark bloom of cancer will affect the user in five years time.

Humans come out of the building. The sight of them always brings me such sorrow. I have cradled so many of them during their darkest times. My home in Heaven shelters me from feeling infinite grief, but when down here on Earth, I am not immune to the subtleties and pains of human emotions.

The people are laughing. It is light-hearted, with no unpleasant intent, and I am grateful. I usually cannot bear laughter that is ill-directed. I can feel every ounce of misguided distaste, as if it were directed at me. Harsh laughter feels like…I do not like the word, but it feels like hatred. Like tiny pieces of hatred dissolving inside me. It is not pleasant. I wish for everyone to feel happy laughter instead.

They proceed to their carriage, and when it pulls away, another one arrives.

It is Him. If I had the likeness of breath, it would be caught in my chest. I believe what I am feeling is the equivalent of a human sigh.

Nothing I have witnessed in my heavenly abode can match what I am seeing and feeling presently.

He is a knight among men. He travels the land far and wide, bringing himself to those who need him. His carriage is crude and unbecoming of him. It is as black as the night sky I stand under, and covered in imperfections made even before the earth witnessed his birth. Yet I can feel his love for the wheeled transport, which makes me feel affection for it just the same. If it means something to him, I adore it as well.

He steps out, and I feel my entire being sigh. His face is beautiful, a cause for ecstasy to bubble up inside me, something different than my usual Heavenly state. I am a pillar of light; I either feel the sorrow of my charges or succinct waves of bliss, the calming presence of my Heavenly Father. But this is somehow more enticing, and I do not understand it, the way this human being makes me feel.

I cannot capture this feeling when I am away from him. To make up for that, I find myself dwelling on each line and curve of his face, the blush and volume of his lips, the flame of life behind his verdant eyes, the lilt of his voice when he feels well, and the way his clothes emphasize his beautiful form. But more than anything, I think about his soul.

His soul makes my heavenly being sing.

Why him, of all humans? His physical form is a description of beauty, surely, but as an angel doing my duty, I've already touched the most vulnerable part of the human soul, again and again. I have not touched this beautiful soul quite so intimately, yet I feel waves of him washing towards me whenever I am near. They mingle with my being and open parts of me I have never discovered before.

I long to touch him. I long to know him. These are not desires becoming of an Angel of the Lord like myself. Yet, I feel them, and I wonder if perhaps one day they will be fulfilled. I can no longer escape my need to find out. I take any chance I can to glimpse him. This is the first time I will allow him to see me.

This makes me feel small, and afraid. But I can wait no longer.

He is with his brother. He is almost never alone; they prefer to travel in each other's company. His brother's name is Sam.

His name is Dean.

"Hello," I say, a simple human greeting in his language. I wait in anticipation of his response. The response will be directed me. I cannot contain my eagerness. A smile on my human likeness bursts forth.

"Hey," Dean says, while he continues to walk towards the eating establishment. He nods at me. His eyes catch the light in mine, and fire spreads. He smiles. He smiles at me.

I was not aware my being could sing so sonorously at this brief contact. If this is how I feel from his smile, how will I feel at a touch? At a layered, meaningful glance? Right now, his eyes show curiosity, curiosity about me.

I swoon again. I have to keep myself from fluttering my wings. They are not visible to him, but he would be able to hear them.

He catches me staring, and asks, "Can I help you with something?"

His gaze is inquisitive now. He is wondering something about me. He explores my face with his eyes. It is a pleasant feeling. I wonder what his impression of me is.

"I just wanted to say hello," I say simply. I realize this golden moment with him needs to come to a close soon. I only had a moment anyway; before I was due to meet up with my charge.

Dean nods again, almost looks ready to laugh. "Hi, then. Take it easy."

Sam nods at me as well, but I am very engrossed in taking in the every nuance that is Dean. His personal way of walking, the glint in his eye just before he faces the restaurant again, and the shortness of his light brown hair.

I imagine my likeness of human lips brushing against that shortened hair. It would be soft, and what else would I feel?

Dean's about to enter the restaurant, and I want him to know my name. Before we part, I want him to know my name.

"My name is Castiel," I say.

Dean turns and looks at me again. "Pleased to meet you." He nods. He doesn't offer his name. Although I know it already, I would have liked to hear his lips say it. Say it to me.

Perhaps another time. I see my charge heading to the building next door. I must be going.

I nod too, and say, "Likewise." It is an expression I have learned from my brother. I hope I am using it in the right context.

Later, with my charge, even though I am supposed to meet her in her grief, I can't help but feel a flutter of happiness I have never felt before while doing my duty.

Dean Winchester and I have met. And my being is still singing from it. Even in his absence.

"Dude. Whoa, did you see that dude?" Dean said as they were sitting down at a booth. "And I mean, weird as fuck too, but damn. That dude was….fucking gorgeous," he said under his breath. Dean shook his head in disbelief, as he picked up the pre-placed menu in front of him. "And that name? Castiel? What the fuck kind of name is that? And just introducing himself out of nowhere?" Dean chuckled. "I hope it didn't hurt when he fell out of Heaven! Sweet Jesus!"

"Dean, if you like him, maybe you should go talk to him. Perhaps invite him in to eat with us?"

Dean looked out the window he was sitting next to. "Like him? I don't even know him. And he's long gone. Maybe next time," and as he said it, he found himself wondering if there would ever be a next time. Dean and Sam traveled regularly. They didn't live here, and at the moment, had no real reason to come back.

"Hey sugar, what can I do you for?" A blonde waitress in her forties appeared beside them. She was chewing bubble gum rapidly, and obviously enjoying the view. She practically winked at Dean and Sam.

"Yeah, I'd like a double bacon cheeseburger," Dean said. "And a cup of coffee, please."

"I'll take the baked chicken breast with vegetables," Sam said.

"Your mother raised you right, Eating your vegetables makes you a strong, healthy, man." she said in approval. This time she really did wink.

"We've got the same mother," Dean said.

She smiled at Dean. "Well, she certainly did right by you as well. Mercy me! Anyhoo, I better skedaddle and have Larry get your order ready."

Dean and Sam chuckled as she left. Sam leaned over the table a little. "Dean, I could tell that man was handsome. I don't know, but have this feeling…"

"What?"

"I don't know, but it's like…he already knew you. I can't explain it. And did you hear that sound? When he was leaving?"

"Um, not really. Why would there be a sound? Other than footsteps?"

"There was this weird whoosh of air. Almost sounded like…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like a bunch of seagulls taking off at once, I guess."

"Okay, so there were seagulls out in the alley? So what? This is a diner, the dumpster back there is a smorgasbord to those winged devils." Dean shook his head again. "I didn't hear anything. But I tell you, if he's seen me before, I've never seen him before."

"Because," Dean said quietly. "I'd never forget a face like that, for as long as I lived."