Destiny ~ Dean Winchester (love story), part two

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xCastiel POVx

"Tonight is our last night on earth. Tomorrow, we hunt the devil."

Since I said that yesterday evening, certain individuals in the group have started behaving differently.

Bobby had insisted on taking a picture of everyone, his camera capturing a rare stillness in our chaos. For once, Dean didn't crack a joke about it being sentimental or a "chick flick moment." He just stood there, still as stone, his eyes tracking Angie as if memorizing her. In another world, in another life, maybe he would have laughed—mocked us even—but something in the air was different. It felt like the last time we'd be together. Like the closing of a book.

Then, for some reason, Bobby clapped me on the shoulder, as if we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. I feared that my understanding of human interactions was sufficient to know it likely meant the opposite: we were new friends, seeing each other for the last time.

Then there were Angie and Dean, staring at each other whenever they thought no one was watching. My senses were always heightened, even in a vessel, and I could tell their scents had intertwined. I had first-hand knowledge now of how awfully complex human relationships could be, but I still couldn't comprehend why they both chose to remain unhappy and alone.

At least they were made for each other. Keza stood close to me, leaning on my shoulder, letting me carry some of her weight. She was always in my space, always touching me without any logical explanation—and, unfortunately, I seemed to crave it.

Me. Not the vessel. Me. It wasn't like the ground beef Jimmy craved when hunger affected this body. My willingness to rebel, to do something dangerous or wrong, might have already been high—I've crossed so many lines already—but Keza and I couldn't be together. It wasn't about Heaven; it was common sense. I had grown fond of Angie, but she was still the reason for the apocalypse, even if it wasn't voluntary or direct.

"Whole town's abandoned," Keza whispered, her voice barely breaking the eerie quiet. The air was thick, heavy with a stillness that made my senses itch. Posters fluttered against lampposts, the missing faces of people long gone. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was oppressive, like the calm before a storm, thick with the promise of something dark. Something waiting.

Of course, she would think that. Missing person posters covered every surface: lamp posts, trees, cars, shops. No signal.

One might almost find it peaceful, non-threatening, if it weren't for the—

"Reapers," Angie breathed out, her voice too low for human ears.

"Can you see them?" I asked. She spun around, shaking her head.

I was almost surprised she couldn't. I wasn't sure of anything anymore when it came to Angie's powers. Heaven didn't know much about Nephilim, and part of what we did know had proven wrong.

Heaven would want me to investigate, to gather more information about what she was capable of—maybe even experiment on her. And yes, I was curious, but for different reasons. I cared because Angie was my friend.

"No. No, of course not. There are just so many—I can feel them," Angie explained. Her pulse was higher than usual. She was afraid, maybe because the presence of so many reapers couldn't be a good sign. They only gathered in times of great catastrophe. The Chicago Fire, the San Francisco quake, Pompeii.

"You can see them too, then?" Keza asked, excited. I nodded. She was fascinated by things I had never even questioned. Keza made me see things from a new perspective. "That's so cool. What do they look like?"

Angie's eyes were distant, searching past the reapers for the Impala. She hadn't even heard the question. Sam and Dean got out of the car, and her heart rate stabilized.