Close Call
Dean’s looked turned sour. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. There was no God, and there certainly were no angels. Looking the man up and down, he scoffed. “Yeah buddy, you really fit the part. Where’s the halo? What’s with the trench coat?” He circled around, trying to get a better look at the man, and reached a hesitant hand out to feel the feathers- and then he swallowed thickly, because things were getting just a little too real for him.
His eyes drifted to where wings met back and they were… well they seemed genuinely attached. Dean stumbled back a few steps, shaking his head. “Alright, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’re gonna be in a world of hurt if you’re fuckin’ with me man. I am not sober enough for this kinda crap. I gotta- I gotta go. Thanks for helping me with uh, whatever that was back there. I owe you one.”
And then he stuffed his hands in his pocket and turned around, walking briskly towards the hotel. He needed to get the hell out of there. For all he knew this was some trap set up by some kinda monsters or something. He had his personal gun on him but some backup would be nice. Dean picked up his pace, refusing to look back. Just play it cool, play it cool.
Castiel arched an eyebrow. “Only my brothers and sisters are able to see my halo…” he said, shaking his head. Dean was strange. His eyes widened and his wings fluttered as they were touched- he was not expecting the touch. Dean’s fingers were warm and he liked them. He turned to face Dean again, pulling his wings tight, a hard look in his eyes.
“You’re… welcome? It is my duty,” Castiel said, “I will help whenever you need it.”
He frowned, his eyes narrowing a little. Dean seemed… tense. Not comforted. Was he doing his job right?
With a flutter of wings, he left his form, dissipating into the different planes of existence and sight on Earth, in his place between.
Close Call
The pain was gone all of a sudden and Dean looked up blearily when he heard a voice. He’d seen a lot of things in his time as a Hunter, but he had never seen anything with… wings? Deciding he was just in a drunken stupor, or had actually probably died from the knife wound, he snorted and brushed the hand on his shoulder away as he stood up on unsteady legs.
Checking the supposed wound he found that it was missing, and wondered if he’d just imagined it all. Had he just bumped his head and was dreaming? Everything certainly seemed real… Dean scowled and raised a skeptic brow at the man who’d appeared out of nowhere. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? ‘This a dream? What’s with the getup?” he gestured to the wings.
It was late at night, he was drunk off his ass, and he really should be getting home. “Nevermind… uh, thanks for the help dude. Hafta get home now, catch ya later, Angel boy…” he snorted at the name. Yeah, an Angel. Because those were real.
Castiel tilted his head to the side curiously. He had never been so close to the one he had been charged with. He had such bright green eyes. He stepped closer, close to Dean, blinking at the freckles dusted across high cheekbones.
“I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord,” he said, “I am… sorry that I do not fit most humans’ interpretation of angels.” His wings rustled behind him as he spoke, pressing against his back in an attempt to make them a little less noticeable.
He hadn’t ever been this close to a human before, let alone so solidly on Earth. He was doing this right, wasn’t he? How he had been instructed? He had waited for so long to get a charge of his own, thousands of years- and now finally, here he was. Gabriel had always said that he would wind up with someone different- and he certainly had. Dean was not like other humans he had seen.
