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You never believed in love at first sight.
Then again, you never believed in angels, either.
Funny how he changed your mind in one fell swoop - literally.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked. In one moment he held your stare with an intensity that made you feel as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. Hostaged by that pure gaze, your heart fluttered like a monarch experiencing its first breeze.
But then a second later, he looked elsewhere, distant, distracted by something not meant to be shared with an unknown hunter like yourself.
“Yes, thanks to you,” you replied. He sensed you wanted to say something more, but you couldn’t find the right words.
It should have been a routine hunt, something nice and easy that wouldn’t require backup. Nonetheless, one ambush and a few harsh punches later, and you found yourself pitched off the edge of a girder bridge that connected this town with the next one over.
Judging by the wind whipping harsh against your cheek, it had to be a fast descent, but it was also timeless. The lights of the bridge had extinguished when those things arrived, and the moon was hiding behind a winter sky. When you finally struck the ground, it would be unexpected. Your last thoughts were to be: Shit; sorry, everyone; and I hope I hit head first, because I don’t want this to hurt for too long.
The lapse into understandable pessimism was for nothing, however. Your skull didn’t wind up breaking, though you thought your heart might, when you suddenly found yourself cradled against a warm, solid chest.
He didn’t give you a chance to be terrified. The empty space around you was inexplicably replaced with the bridge, dock securely underfoot. You barely had time to stop your head from reeling when he released you to advance upon your three attackers.
They were as surprised as you.
The one who hissed “Angel!” was the first to go. Your savior lunged forward, gripped him roughly by the head, and that was that. Bullets had failed you, but this … angel … destroyed the monster with merely a touch. He performed the same execution on the second, whose face crumpled in pain or revulsion even before a hand was laid on him.
Number Three felt either brave or desperate. He moved in to strike, his thin blade cutting through the air, but your scream of “Watch out!” caught the angel’s attention. Rather than give the third the quick finish he granted the others, the angel caught him by the neck and leaned in toward his ear, whispering something that made the creature’s oily eyes spread like pools in his dark face.
You strained to hear what was being exchanged, but the only word you caught was a name — “Winchesters!” — snarled before the voice careened into a wailing cry, and then silence.
A sane person would have fled screaming into the night. But hunters could never be sane— not completely.
“Is it true? You’re an angel?” you asked, your curiosity outweighing sensibility.
His back was to you, and he didn’t turn around.
“You shouldn’t have heard that.” His voice was soft, but it rolled through the night like stones turned in the tide. “I should remove the memory.”
The thought of that frightened you nearly as much as the fall. You loved being a hunter, you really did, but it was tiring. A handful of you up against the whole damn supernatural world made you feel like a hero, but it also had a way of beating you down, reminding you of who was the underdog.
But if angels existed…
“No, don’t!” you protested. You put on a smile when he turned around, trying to wear a casual bravery when all you really felt was excited astonishment. “Look, I’m a hunter. Do you know what those are? I’m used to seeing all kinds of crazy.”
He raised an eyebrow and frowned.
“Oh, no— I mean, I’m not calling you crazy! But those things… they were demons, right? I’ve heard of a few possessions before, but a whole pack like that? And I didn’t even know they could be killed! That was amazing!”
You wanted him to smile. To show a sign of relaxing at your reassurances. Anything that revealed what he was thinking. Instead, he started to walk toward you, his oversized coat pitching about his knees in time with his long-legged stride. When he got close enough, he reached out a hand, much as he had against the demons.
“No, no, no, wait! Don’t erase this! Please!”
You flinched at his rough palm on your cheek, the heat that began to course over your skin. But when he pulled away, to your shock, nothing had been stolen. Your memory was still there. Your pain, on the other hand, was gone.
“What…”
“I’ve healed you. Next time, you might not be so lucky. Demons are no game.”
He moved to pull away, but, as if acting of its own accord, your hand caught his. His palm was large, strong. He could have broken your wrist with a flick of his own, but he remained still, despite the impatience that etched a line at the corner of his lips.
“Wait, please… if you’re an angel, that means you’re on our side, right? And heaven is real? We’ve really got something good watching our backs?”
He had secrets, but you did, too. Lost loved ones and friends— people who had made this world feel worth fighting for. To know there was something better waiting, that this wasn’t a battle fought by humans alone…
“This isn’t a children’s story. We can’t always protect you.” The words were harsh, but they were betrayed by the twitch of his brow, the melancholy of a millennia that briefly clouded the stoic resolution with which he carried himself.
He was startled when you released him. Maybe he had expected protest or anger. Instead, you answered softly, “But sometimes. Sometimes you can. So you do.”
It was your turn to be surprised as he smiled. It was a small smile, perhaps a little on the cynical side, but it brought a warmth to his face that furthered your hope for what the existence of angels might mean.
“Yes, sometimes.”
The moment ended far before you wanted it to. He began to turn away, but paused, taking a step closer, any concept of personal space either dismissed or unheard of.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks to you,” you replied.
You resisted the urge to bite your lip, knowing that this strange encounter was about to be over, and something wonderfully exciting lost. You had to try. At the very least, you owed yourself that. “Can’t you stay? Maybe I could help you. I’m not as bad at this as I look, heh…”
He shook his head, stare sliding past you to look into the east. “Soon. Very soon. I have a very important mission.”
“Someone to protect?”
He smiled again, softer. This time, it didn’t touch his eyes.
“Can you at least tell me your name?” Perhaps it was greedy to ask. He already was leaving you with your memory of the night, after all. But you wanted something more. Something tangible, even if only on your tongue.
There was a slow, measured pause, and you were certain you would be denied, when he softly replied, “Castiel.”
“Castiel…” You tried it. Discovered you liked the feel of it in your mouth. Maybe you’d take up praying. “Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Has a nice ring to it.”
You grinned at the quiet shift of his shoulders, a muted snort that might have been the angel’s version of a chuckle. Apparently, he agreed.
“Will I ever see you again? When you’re done saving the world, or whatever it is you do when you’re not saving random girls falling from the sky?”
He didn’t reply, only capturing you within another one of those penetrating looks before vanishing, leaving you alone with a world that was slightly bigger, a touch more promising, and filled with new questions.
Like, could an angel ever love a hunter?