Castiel X reader

Chapter 8: Death takes a Holiday

POV: Y/n

I am properly on my sixth cup of coffee at this point because I was so tired from staying up all night thinking about all the bullshit tremoli I've had to deal with. Also, I can sip it and not have to talk to Sam and Dean unless I had to. The last few weeks have been tedious with the three of us tip toeing around the fucked-up things we said when we were under the siren's spell even though it was the truth at the moment to us. Sam was on the phone to Bobby talking about an interesting case he had found, and Dean was banging at the jukebox to get it to work, and I was trying not to explode with all the emotions I had running through my body. "No, no, no, you're right, it's definitely weird. ...Okay, Bobby, thanks." Sam said, hanging up the phone. "What's up?" Dean sat down. "Bobby found something in Wyoming." "A job?" I questioned. "Maybe" he responded. "Small town, no one's died in the past week and a half." "Ok and is that not a normal good thing." I questioned. "Well, it's how they're not dying."

"One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice. Another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch." "Capped in the ass?" Dean questioned and I chuckled under my breath at that one. "Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter." "Alright that one no way someone is walking away it looks like we got a case." I said as it seems like I spoke to them for the first time today. "It's got to be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something." Sam said to us. And he wasn't wrong it looked like this had demon's fingerprints all over it. The boys get up to leave as I stay sitting. "Y/n come on" Sam said to me. "You sure you guys want me to go with you. I mean you might have to save me and that is just pathetic right?" I said sipping my coffee and not looking up from my cup. "Y/n/n we said we're sorry okay I thought we were past this." Dean responded looking sorry for a second. I finished my cup and got up not bothering to look at them. "Yeah, we're past it." I said as I walked past them.

We were now at the man's house who was shot straight in the chest and is now walking around like nothing had touched him. "Now you three said you were bloggers?" He asked us. "Yes, sir. Floored by the Lord dot com." I answered. "All of God's glory fit to blog." Sam and I both look at Dean like really. "Um. Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle." I said to him. "It was. Plain as day." "How can you be so sure?" "How else do you explain it? The doctors can't. There's a bullet in my heart, and it's pumping like a piston." It does sound like a miracle but sadly with this life it never really is. "Well, how do you explain it?" Dean asked. Jim looks over to his daughter who was coloring at the other table and smiles. "Look, honestly. I was nobody's saint—not exactly father of the year, either." "Okay"

"But when that guy shot me, and I didn't bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance." Right the Lord. "That so?" "I had this feeling—like angels were watching over me." Huh okay now that's something we can work with. "I wouldn't expect you guys to understand." "Trust us Jim we understand." Especially if an Angel is becoming my best friend. "You wouldn't have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?" Sam asked getting info if this was a Demon thing. "No" Jim said back confused. "Maybe you met someone? With black eyes? Or red?" Should have stopped at the first question. "Who'd you guys say you were again?" The three of us look at each other. "Never mind. Thank you for your time." I said getting up to leave.

Dean was reading something on the computer while I was getting coffee ... again. "Hey" Sam said entering the room. "Hey you find anything else?" I asked him. "That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead, his wife pulled the plug, and now he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary." The more I hear about people living their lives I want to leave this phenomenon alone. "Any sign of a deal?" Dean asked. "No. What about you? Found anyone dying around here?" "Not since Cole Griffith." I responded back. "Poor Kid was 12 and dropped in his front yard. It was the last death we could find." "So, what are you guys thinking?" Sam asked us. "Eh, maybe it is what the people say it is." Dean said back.