"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience." -Pierre Teilhard de Chardin


Part of the warehouse was sectioned off. Tarps were hung down over a corner, and light shone from between the white cloth like sun through spread fingers. A heavy border of salt lined the perimeter. Three different songs of completely different genres were playing to echo through the empty, otherwise cold warehouse. The bright corner was filled with paintings of all sorts, from children's scribbles with crayon to prints of classics; The Last Supper was poised higher, a sign of respect.

Amongst the pillows and woven blankets, tatamis and an out-of-place fauteuil, lots of mismatched memorabilia was piled. A hookah, chess boards, a rarely-used television, a record player that looked like it was from the 1930s, a myriad bunch of instruments including but not limited to accordions and timpani drums, pressed flowers and preserved butterflies, and a bookshelf filled with nothing but classics were just a few of the many things gathered. There were also clothes from many different cultures, scattered bits of technology like the guts of computers, potted bamboo grass, statues of every deity from Buddha to Ganesh to Jesus, carved blades, light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, a parrot in a cage, rolled up flags, stacked vinyl records, and a bowl of wet dirt that had sprouted a wide variety of interesting fungi.

And amongst even those things, a woman was sitting, curled up in the chaos like another one of the many strange things. She was paging through a book of Latin, looking almost bored with it. A black dress was draped over her crossed knees, and a small vial of holy water hung around her neck by a silver chain. From the light of various candles and stained-glass lamps, the shadows of what looked like wings were cast over the tarp behind her.

The tiniest of breezes, almost unnoticeable, stirred her. She looked up, green eyes flashing, and saw the person standing in her domain. He was a handsome man in a suit and trench coat, with black hair that stuck up here and there.

It took her a moment to recognise him. "Castiel." She greeted with a nod. "What brings you here?"

"Charmeine. I require your assistance with something." He answered, his voice a perpetual growl.

She stood. "Of course."

"It is long term. This is important, but I believe you will enjoy it nonetheless."

"Tell me."

"I will inform you on the way." Castiel placed his hand on her shoulder and they vanished.


The pair was in the room of the motel, stalling time. Castiel was leaning against the wall, deep in thought, arms crossed over his chest. Charmeine sat cross-legged on one of the beds, hands clasped in her lap.

"So," She broke the silence. "You want me to…sit on their shoulders."

Castiel pressed his mouth into a line. "I understand if you don't want to."

"I do. However, humans are often…unsettled by me."

Castiel glanced at her. "To the best of your ability, make sure they do not do anything foolish."

"From what you've told me, that will not be easy."

"You have an appetite for humans. I'm sure you will fare well."


I just need to get this out of my system, okay? I don't want to continue it, I might, I don't know, just please god someone rescue me from this fandom.

-I chose the name Charmeine because she's the angel of harmony, and there aren't very many good female angel names. I like to pronounce it "CHAR-mine" but I'm pretty sure it's closer to "Char-MEEN".