I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. That honor belongs to JK Rowling and Supernatural (Supernatural owns Supernatural. God that sounds redundant, doesn't it).
Sam and Dean Winchester were resting in their hotel after a successful hunt. They had just finished tracking down a whole pack of were's that had been threatening a small town in Idaho, and were taking some much needed R&R.
Dean looked up as Sam stood from his seat at the computer, watching as the taller hunter grabbed his wallet and id. "Gonna make a beer run," Sam said, looking back at his brother as he paused in the doorway to the hotel. Dean nodded.
"Make sure you get some pie!" he called out as Sam closed the door, and smirked as he heard Sam's irritated grunt. Smirking with self-satisfaction, he leaned back on the couch, flipping through the channels and searching for something to watch. He considered calling Bobby to see if the older hunter had any cases for them, but pushed the thought aside as his aching muscles made a convincing argument against it.
A flutter of wings instantly alerted Dean to the arrival of the angel, and with a smirk, he turned his head to see Castiel standing in the corner of the room. "Hello Dean," came the usual, gravelly voiced greeting, and a smile tugged on the edges of Dean's lips. "Well Cas, at least you didn't scare the piss out of me this time with a silent entrance," Dean said casually, flicking the TV off as he sat up.
"So what's up?" he asked the angel, his moss green eyes meeting those of purest blue. "I assume this isn't just a social call," he said with a small grin. Castiel gave Dean an unreadable look before moving to sit down on the other end of the couch, his gaze never leaving that of Dean's. The hunter cocked an eyebrow at the angel's odd behavior. Normally, during any conversation the brothers had with the angel, Castiel would remain standing. Apparently, soldiers of god never felt the compulsion to rest their legs. "Cas?" he questioned, looking hard at the angel.
Castiel shook his head slightly, before looking up at the ceiling. "Actually, Dean, this is what you would call a 'social visit.'" The angel made little finger quotes as he said the last two words, for once actually using them correctly. Dean was almost impressed, but he knew that the socially inept creature would blunder somewhere else.
"I am not entirely familiar with this part of human transaction," the angel admitted, his gaze wandering around the room. "I believe the phrase is, 'How do you feel?'" he said, once again using finger quotes, only this time in the wrong place. Dean's face was pulled into a full on grin this time; the angel was frequently an unintentional source of entertainment.
"Yeah, Cas, I'm doing great. You?" the hunter questioned, glancing at the angel curiously.
"I have been feeling confused lately," the angel said, twiddling his hands nervously.
Dean's curious gaze only intensified. "Oh? Do tell Cas."
Castiel shifted a bit, before leaning forward to scrutinize a bit of the carpet. "I'll admit, I'm not overly confident talking about these things. Human emotions are so confusing sometimes," he grumbled, his gravelly voice echoing around the small room, coupled with Dean's light-hearted chuckle.
"Yeah, but that's why we like you so much, Cas! The only one of the heavenly douche bags to have a conscience." Dean smirked as he leaned over to grab the last beer, knowing that Sam would be back soon.
He enjoyed a sip of his beer, before glancing over at the angel next to him. Cas seemed to be in deep concentration, his brow furrowed and his entire body stiff. "Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked, looking in concern at his heavenly friend. Castiel shook his head before responding softly, "I wasn't the only one."
Dean's eyebrow shot into his scalp. "Cas, what do you mean?" he asked, now seriously worried by his friend.
Castiel finally turned his gaze on Dean, and the hunter was taken aback by the sheer intensity in his gaze. One thing about angels that gave humans an advantage was that since they were unused to emotions, it was very easy to read from their expressions. And right now, Dean saw an emotion that he was all too familiar with: guilt.
"I'm saying that I didn't just start out like this, Dean. I learned it from someone else." Castiel clenched his hands to stop them from shaking, the memories of his role in those particular series of events still painfully burned into his memory.
Castiel looked up at the human's question, his face now and unreadable mask. The angel seemed to ponder the question for a while, before shaking his head. "It's a long story," he said, trying to dismiss the topic.
"I've got nothing but time," Dean said loudly, indicating that he would not let the subject drop. Not when the angel had gone and spiked his interest.
Castiel let his gaze drop back to the carpet. "The story will require a lot of explanations, but if I am going to tell it properly, you are going to have to listen carefully and not interrupt me. I will explain everything as I tell it. Do you understand?" he asked, looking at Dean with hard blue eyes.
The human nodded and made an x on his chest with his finger. "Cross my heart, hope to die," he said confidently, drawing a confused look from the angel. "Why would you wish for death?" he asked, before looking at Dean more seriously. "You know I won't be there to bring you back every time," he said, but Dean just shook his head. "Never mind, forget I said anything. You were starting with your story?" he asked, leaning back into the couch to get more comfortable.
Cas nodded. "Yes, I was. It takes place in England, 1989, when a young angel was watching the human world from above…"
Yes, I'm still alive. Though you would think my teachers would prefer it if I wasn't judging on the ludicrous amount of work I've been put through.
So I thought I'd add a little prologue to add a little more excitement for all the more Supernaturalish fans who are reading this. To those of you are reading this for the first time, welcome. If not, welcome back. Don't worry, I've gt my inspiration back and it's currently in a glass jar where it can't get out. Although I'll have to remember to poke some holes in the lid to make sure it doesn't die, eh?
Anyway, enjoy this fic!- Arudon