Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Torn and Frayed

December 19, 2013

Whitefish, Montana

Alex hurried up the stairs of Rufus' cabin, wings curling inwards as they brushed against the side of the stairwell. She had just finished reorganizing the piles of folders and weapons that had been haphazardly left on the ground since sometime last year, and, with Dean busy napping on the couch upstairs, she had thought it a good time to start picking up the mess.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the main room. Alarm pulsed through her for half a second, feathers ruffling as she spotted a third figure in the room, standing beside the couch where Dean lay, but the panic passed when she recognized the navy wings that rested casually against a tan coat. "Castiel." The young angel kept her voice low as not to wake the hunter, and the seraph's eyes turned onto her. "Hey, uh, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?" She tipped her head, confused as to why the angel hadn't come to her directly.

Castiel didn't immediately answer, and his wings fluttered uncomfortably. "I ... I'm waiting for Dean to wake up," he finally admitted. "I require your help, but I understand that he needs to sleep."

"Huh." Alex shrugged off his unnatural decision and crossed the room to press a quick kiss on his lips. "Well, I'm going to go and fold the laundry over in the other room, but, uh, if you want to talk, feel free."

"I'd prefer to tell the both of you at once," Castiel responded, but Alex couldn't help but notice the way his lips fell slightly into a frown when she pulled away. "It ... won't take him long to wake, will it?"

"Keep staring," Alex suggested jokingly. "Remember what I've told you? The more you stare, the sooner he'll wake." Castiel made a noise of understanding, and Alex moved off into the adjacent room.

She only had to wait four or so minutes before she heard the tell-tale signs of Dean's return to the waking world. "Dammit, Cas!" came the loud and surprised voice, followed by a thud as Dean slammed his beer bottle down onto the coffee table, and Alex rose to her feet with a grin. "How many times do I gotta tell you — it's just creepy!"

Castiel looked over at Alex, blinking twice in confusion, but he chose to ignore Dean's strange comment. "I need your help," he announced, looking between the two hunters. "Both of yours. The angel Samandriel ... He's been taken."

Taken? Alex hurried across the room to stand in front of the seraph, eyes wide in surprise. "Samandriel?" she repeated, mind recalling the image of the young, quiet angel. "What? Are you sure?" She looked down at Dean, who was still seated on the couch. "You remember Samandriel from that auction, right?"

"Yeah, I remember," Dean agreed, and Alex turned back to Castiel.

"You knew him?" The seraph's head tipped to one side, surprised at that knowledge. "How? Samandriel hasn't come to earth in a very long time."

"I saw him — when was it? Late September? At a supernatural auction where we were trying to regain the demon tablet. I ... I really liked him," she admitted. "He was a nice angel — good heart. What do you mean 'taken'? Where the hell is he?"

"I ... I don't know. I heard his distress call this morning on angel radio."

"Angel radio?" Dean repeated from where he sat on the couch. "I thought you shut that down." He looked up at Alex for confirmation, rubbing at his tired eyes, and she nodded; she vaguely remembered hearing something about that.

Castiel seemed slightly taken aback by the question, and his answer seemed a little stuttered. "Well, my penance, it's going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on. I've been helping people, Dean."