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The Men of Letters bunker was too airless, and in some rooms smelled strongly of uncleaned dust and God only knows what else. Deyanira thought that humans cared more about dust and cleanliness but evidently those Winchester guys didn't.
They didn't even want to be in this bunker, they didn't want to be anywhere that would risk them getting into close proximity with Castiel. Yet, they found themselves in the middle of a random room in the bunker anyway. (Did it have Angel wardings? I forgor so for plot reasons I'm assuming no). Their shoulders were stiff as they took in their surroundings, shelves upon shelves of containers, envelopes, and books that all looked worse for wear.
Deyanira sighed heavily and rolled their eyes, not bothering to linger as they quickly left whatever room it was they were in.
How long had it been since they heard of the Men of Letters? Ever since all those centuries ago when one of the first groups of them were assigned to be their charges? The last thing they wanted was to be here now, surrounded by what those men’s descendents created. It was suffocating in a way that made their chest feel tight with a feeling they couldn't quite place.
It was an achingly familiar feeling, one they grew begrudgingly accustomed to during their time spent in punishment — when God cast them to a life of stone, believing that to be the only way they could do their job after they failed their charges so severely. It was a feeling that they recognized in humans, not angels like themself.
Their feet fell almost silently on the concrete floor with every step as they speed-walked through the hallway. Their grey eyes searched every wall and doorway, looking in every room as they passed it for the being they were searching for.
Their sense of direction was still a little wonky since they fully regained their bearings, recovering from their confinement, so to speak. It made their teleportation slightly off in most attempts as they tried to go to specific places, which was the reason they couldn't have just teleported to the side of the exact being they were looking for, though they knew he had to be somewhere in this bunker.
They were about to give up completely and leave before they were spotted by someone else when they heard a voice coming from one of the doorways. They could feel the familiar presence inside, along with another being speaking to them. Deyanira immediately knew it was a human without having to look, they could feel their life-force.
Deyanira stood there for several minutes before the human eventually left with a murmured, gruff goodbye. The only aspects Deyanira bothered to make out of the human male's appearance being the short black hair and pale complexion, all of which oddly fit with the black suit he wore. He must have had a specific aesthetic going. Deyanira didn't waste time pondering on it much as they moved quickly into the room the human just exited, faster than a human would have even been able to see, though the being inside could feel their presence almost as well as they could feel his.
They maintained distance from the fellow angel, standing straight and with their hands clasped behind their back, as if still subconsciously awaiting judgement even though they were technically the angel with the higher sanction.
“Gregory.” Deyanira greeted dryly, almost like they were merely testing his name on their lips after all this time.
Gregory had to turn and gawk subtly at the other angel, his lips parting with a question he couldn't bring himself to ask just yet as he took in Deyanira's appearance, both their vessel's and the angel’s beneath. He could make out the same two sets of wings, the same light under flesh, though it had dimmed considerably. He could also make out the same vessel, the same dark, wavy hair and steel-grey eyes. How had it held up this long?
“Deyanira.” He recovered from his shock, taking a few steps to get a closer look at them. “It has been too long.”
Deyanira nodded. “It has, I wanted to pay you a visit but I'm sure you understand why I couldn't until now.”
“I'm sure that demon that follows you around had you held up once you came back.” Gregory chidded lightly, a small smile gracing his full lips as he pulled out a chair and sat down, extending his arm to silently offer Deyanira a seat as well.
They accepted the offer, sitting in the chair beside him, posture straight as they took in his own features, mainly his vessel’s, with his dark skin and loc'd hair. Everyone looked oddly new ever since they came back, and though they saw Gregory multiple times during their shared time in heaven before their stations on earth, he looked different now. Felt more human like.
“Yes, Mavros does tend to demand attention.” Deyanira responded, placing their hands on their lap instead of behind their back.
“That is one way of putting it—”
“Anyway—” They quickly interrupted. “I'm hoping Castiel isn't here at the moment. I've heard that he's been staying here as of recently.”
“No he isn't here right now. He went on a date—I think that's what they call it now—with Dean.” Gregory didn't question why Deyanira had such a problem with the thought of Castiel being present, but he figured it must have been somehow due to the original Men of Letters, and how that situation ended up. They used to be close, did they have a falling out of sorts? He didn't want to risk questioning Deyanira too much and making them leave.
“Dean? As in the Winchester boy?” They asked slowly, confusion laced in their tone.
“Yes. You know of him?”
Deyanira cleared their throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “Mavros has kept me somewhat informed on worldly happenings. Well, on the ones he thought would interest me, anyway.” They clasped their hands together again, only in front of them this time. “He is the oldest one, no?”
“Mhm.” Gregory nodded, leaning back in his seat. “He calls and Castiel comes running, it seems.”
Deyanira’s eyebrows furrowed as they whipped their head to look at Gregory, completely wide eyed. He couldn't remember a time where Deyanira had ever been so expressive before.
“Do what now?” They asked.
Gregory just chuckled lightly. “I believe the young people would call him ‘completely whipped’, kind of like you and The Other One, if I remember correctly.”
Deyanira shook their head and, if they were a human, they would have choked on air. Castiel, the one who ratted them and their failures out to other angels, and consequently to God? The angel who had the most to say about their relations to a demon, now completely whipped for a human? That was basically the same thing.
They adjusted their body to fully face Gregory. “I beg you to elaborate on that.”
“Alright.” Gregory began. “I don't know all the details, but I do know that Castiel does basically everything for Dean if he asks, which he doesn't do for anyone else. I've heard Sam complain about it on a few occasions.”
Deyanira nodded slowly.
“I don't think they are actually dating, but there is definitely something going on there.”
“He sounds like a whore to me.” Deyanira responded.
“Which one?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, well—” Gregory quickly found that he couldn't form an argument against Deyanira's statement, so he didn't even try.
“Castiel treated me like I was one after I got with Mavros and now he is with a human doing basically the same thing I did!” Their hands gripped their knees.
“I know!” Gregory replied with the same tone of voice.
“This is outrageous.”
“It is kind of amusing, if I'm being honest.” Gregory leaned forward slightly, trying not to let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips when he noticed how upset Deyanira looked.
Deyanira’s eyes narrowed in Gregory's direction. “You are outrageous.”
“You came all this way to see me. Be quiet.”
“Whatever.”
Both of the angels could suddenly feel the presence of another enter the bunker. Gregory watched as Deyanira’s head snapped towards the doorway, as if Castiel would immediately come waltzing in the room. He didn't, but with how quickly Deyanira shot up from their seat anyway he could tell they weren't about to take any chances.
“I suppose you'll be going now?” Gregory asked, giving them the chance to elaborate, though they didn't take it.
“Yes. Same time next week?” They answered his question with another.
“Sure. you'll tell me what is making you so anxious to leave just because of Castiel and I'll tell you more about him and Dean.” Gregory offered.
“Deal.” And then they were gone with nothing but the sound of ruffling feathers, leaving Gregory all by himself in the bunkers war room.