She Has Wings. | Castiel

Saving The Bloodline.

Chapter Nineteen

I was lying with Castiel, the motel room wrapped in a silence that felt borrowed and dingy like it always was in these motels we were forced to make homes for our lives. Even the air knew it didn't belong to us. His coat and blazer were draped over the chair, tie loosened, and for once, the weight of the war outside seemed far away. His grace thrummed steady along with his heartbeat beneath my cheek, where it rested against his chest, a rhythm both foreign and familiar. His fingers danced in my hair, and my leg gently slid up his as I cuddled closer, looking up at him.

"Do you ever think it's strange?" I murmured, tracing absent shapes across his shirt, feeling the fabric against my fingertips until it almost felt numb."How do we get these moments? These... pauses. Like the world forgets to end for a few hours."

Cas tilted his head toward me, that small furrow in his brow he wore whenever I asked questions he couldn't answer. "Moments like this aren't strange," he said softly. "They're necessary." I reached up and pressed my finger to his brow, massaging the furrow out, and I felt his muscles relax. For a heartbeat, I let myself believe him.

Then the tug came, sharp and insistent, a thread pulling at the center of me. A voice I knew too well pressed into my mind.

Y/N.

Dean.

His prayer cracked through me like lightning. Urgent. Unsteady. Asking not only for me but for Cas, too.

I sat up, pulse already quickening, from the urgency to get to my brother and the interruption in our few moments of peace. "He needs us," I whispered.

Castiel didn't ask how I knew. He only stood, reaching for his coat. Throwing it on as I tightened his tie, we were downstairs in a moment, turning to my brothers. Dean told us his dream, which Anna interrupted, to meet her, and I looked at Castiel. "You can't go. If she is free from heaven's grasp, she was let go, used as an advantage. Come..." He said, holding his hand out. I saw Dean roll his eyes.

"How come she can?"

"Anna can't hurt her. She could smite Anna wear she stood if she tried." Castiel said, and the boys looked confused. "We can clarify later." He said, and I ignored Dean's protests, took his hand, and we were there.

The factory felt hollow, like it had been gutted decades ago and left to rot. Rust dripped from the rafters, pipes hissed from unseen leaks, and every sound carried too far, like the place itself wanted to betray us. The air was thick with dust and the metallic tang of old machines, the kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat.

Castiel stood close, shoulders squared, trench coat shifting in the draft as he watched the shadows. I couldn't shake the sense that we were walking straight into something written long before we arrived.

"Hello, Anna." He whispered and she sighed.

"Well, I take it the Winchesters don't trust me." She muttered, still facing away from us.

"My brothers do. I'm cautious."

"I don't," Cas added simply. "I wouldn't let them come..."

"Why is that?" She asked, facing us now, and Cas started to walk around her, boots scraping against the concrete, the sound sharp in the silence. I stayed still, every nerve alert, trying not to breathe too loudly.

"You're out of prison; it's because they let you out." He said, sighing, glancing around the darkened beams as if heaven itself was listening. "They sent you here to do their dirty work." He said, eyes flicking toward me.

"What makes you so sure?" The look on her face alone spoke truth, smug, almost like she was shocked he had figured it out so quickly.

"Because I have experienced heaven's persuasion." He sighed, voice weighted with old regret.