Defying Gravity (Book One: Supernatural fanfic)

On the Head of a Pin

Angels were dying. Being killed.

I walked along a street after dark.

Car alarms were blaring.

Several cars in various states of smashed to pieces were in the street, evidence of an obvious struggle.

I raised a hand, gently closing my hand into a fist, using magic to silence the car alarms. I looked around, walking through the wreckage to a body of a woman in the middle of black wings scorched into the cement underneath her body, revealing her to be the body of a dead Angel, kneeling next to her, moving part of her hair to see the stab wound in her neck. "Goodbye, sister."

Police cars arrived.

Officers instantly walked closer. "What the hell?"

I knew they wouldn't be able to see me, disappearing anyway.

*

I stood with Uriel and Castiel inside a motel room, awaiting Sam and Dean's arrival.

Dean opened the door. "Ah, home crappy home."

Sam turned on the light.

"Winchester and Winchester," I told them.

"Oh, come on," Dean told us in complaint.

"You are needed," Uriel told him.

"Needed?" Dean repeated. "We just got back from needed."

"Now, you mind your tone with me," Uriel told him.

Dean stepped forward angrily. "No, you mind your damn tone with us."

Sam stepped in Dean's way to intervene. "We just got back from Pamela's funeral."

Dean nodded. "Pamela. You know, psychic Pamela? You remember her." He looked at Castiel. "Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times. Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious Seals. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!"

"We raised you out of Hell for our purposes," Uriel told him.

"Yeah, and what were those again?" Dean asked. "What exactly did you want from me?"

"Start with gratitude," Uriel told him.

Dean looked away in disgust. "Oh."

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Castiel told him.

"And we..." Uriel trailed off, giving Castiel a significant look. "Don't care."

Uriel looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows slightly, unbothered.

Dean looked between us in confusion.

Castiel looked down.

I looked at Sam and Dean. "Now, seven Angels have been murdered, all of them from our Garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" Dean asked. "How they doing it?"

"We don't know," I told them.

"I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it?" Sam asked. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice Angels has to be out of our league, right?"

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," I told them.

"Once we find whoever it is," Castiel told them.

"So you need our help hunting a demon?" Dean asked.

"Not quite," Castiel answered. "We have Alastair."