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Castiel was excited to explore the little town. It was known for having a magical aura around it, but he didn't believe it. He wasn't the biggest believer in magic. Though there were rumors that his grandparents were witches, his family dismissed it. But anyway, back to the town, Castiel walked through the streets and was beginning to believe what they said about the town. Seemingly normal people walked past him and at the next moment, they disappeared. To say he was stunned, was a bit of an understatement.
-a couple of months later-
He was finally beginning his candle making business after months of planning it out. Instead of having it at his house like he planned, he rented a little shop downtown which would bring him more business. As his first candle, he decided that he would make it his favorite color, green. As he dipped the wick into the hot wax, a man walked into his shop. Placing his candle on a stand to cool, he walked towards the man. He was attractive, with forest green eyes that stood out from his freckled, tan skin. They greeted each other, Castiel learned that his name was Dean and that he owned the bakery across the road. He offered his help, which Castiel was grateful to take.
"If you could just open up these boxes that would be a tremendous help," Castiel went back to finish his candle, which he dipped back into the hot, green wax.
"So, what's your power?" Dean asked after a couple of minutes. Castiel looked over to him and raised an eyebrow. What is he talking about? He thought. "With that look, I'm gonna guess you have no idea what I'm talking 'bout." Dean continued, "The stories about the town are true, those with magical history are the only ones who are allowed access to this place. Those who don't have magic don't know about this place. It's kinda weird to be honest, but none of us really leave the town so we don't hafta talk about it to others." Finally he shrugged and continued to open boxes.
"My family was rumored to be witches in the past. My parents never believed it and I guess it was true after all." He was shocked, it was crazy to believe that he had some magical abilities after all. "Though I'm not sure if I am a witch. I've never noticed anything."
"Don't worry about it, I'm a witch, but I rarely practice it. I'm happy to live with my bakery in a town where I know I'm safe." Dean responded with a smile and continued to empty boxes. They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon. Castiel was surprised how at ease he was with the baker, usually, he was constantly on edge with people. Though it seemed that Dean was an exemption.
Dean left after a couple of hours and left Castiel to organize everything they had taken out of the boxes. Instead of organizing, the candle maker went back to the candle he had created earlier in the day and dipped it into the wax again. It was complete finally, and Castiel was happy with it. Instead of burning it like he usually did, he put it on a shelf. I'll keep it as a memory of the first candle I made in this place. Castiel was ecstatic and continued to make different colored candles, placing them all to cool upside down.
-
As the sun rose, he heard tapping coming from the window. Castiel walked over and was surprised to find a woman, dressed in black, waiting at his door. Slowly he opened it, and was surprised when the woman placed a warm tray in his hands. He looked down to see cinnamon rolls lining the entire tray. He thanked the woman who introduced herself as Gen, an elderly witch, though she looked no older than 35, turns out, she's around 600 years old. As they talked, Dean came back to the shop and joined the conversation. A couple of minutes later, Gen left, but not without giving Castiel her phone number.
"Dude, she was totally hitting on you," Dean chuckled as Castiel looked down at the strip of paper in confusion.
"Too bad I play for the other team then, huh?" Castiel placed the paper near his desk and lit the black candle, one that he had made the night before. He scented it with vanilla and almonds to give it a slightly old book type of smell. Dean had been quiet for some time, but quickly went back to his playful banter. "Don't you have a shop to run, Dean?" Castiel asked after they spent half an hour arguing whether the plural of moose was meese. Castiel was flabbergasted when Dean brought it up. Are there people who really believe that?
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Cas? Or are you just giving up and agreeing with me?" Dean asked, slightly entertained.
"No Dean, everyone knows moose is just moose. I'm asking because you seem to be quite unconcerned with it." Castiel crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow menacingly. Dean lifted his arms in surrender and left Castiel's shop, but after he gave his last points on the issue. Castiel shook his head and went back to organizing his shop. By tomorrow, the store should be open for business. But, in that case, he needs to make some more candles.
-
As the night began to close in, Castiel blew out his candle and locked the door behind him. But what Castiel didn't hear, was the drop of a body a couple of shops away.
-
The news of Gen's death shook Castiel. He couldn't believe that he met her yesterday, and in less than 24 hours she died. Dean seemed to be a little bit shaken up due to the wobble in his hands. Though he put on a front that showed he was strong, Castiel knew better.
As the months progressed, the deaths seemed to occur frequently. Cops began to investigate around town, but there were no traces on the deaths. What tied them together was that they all died suddenly and from heart failure. Seemingly healthy people, young to old were suddenly dead and Castiel had suspicions it was because of him.
Every day a new person would come into his shop and hand him some type of food, and the next day; they were dead. There were no clues as to how the candle maker was involved but it had to do with his candles. As an experiment, Castiel didn't make a candle for the day and didn't burn one. The next day, there were no deaths.
There was no denying the results. Castiel's passion was what was killing people. He was a serial killer... without even knowing it.
As the sun rose the next day, Castiel knew what he had to do. He began to pack his bags haphazardly, clothes and shoes flying all over the room. In the frenzy of packing, he didn't hear the door to his shop open.
"Cas?" Dean asked, voice smaller than it usually was. Stopping in his tracks, Castiel turned slowly to Dean who was holding a tray of baked cookies. The blue-eyed man's heart dropped, No, this can't be happening. Not with Dean, he doesn't deserve this. "What don't I deserve Cas? What's happening? Where are you going?" Dean's eyes began to grow frantic as he noticed the state of his friend.
"I've killed them and you're next."