What was Lost

Belladonna

After I had finished, I just sat there, deadly still, staring at Castiel. The weight of my story sat between us. A heavy fog that was unmoving. His arm cut through the imaginary fog and his fingers wrapped around my fingers and squeezed.

When he spoke his voice was gruff, but his eye were gentle.

"What has been done to you, is unforgivable. To have your mates stolen is a crime easily punished by death," he took a breath and continued, this time his voice was low, and both his gaze and voice were full of grief.

"I have not found my mate yet. I wonder if I will ever find her. I will do whatever I can to help you. I have an idea, but I need to do more research".

I sat there, stunned. He would actually help me. A stranger, who had no reason to care would actually help me.

I closed my eyes, and could feel the tears welling up behind my eyelids, waiting for the floodgates to open. They did. I cried and cried, completely overwhelmed by this strangers kindness, something I had learnt to never expect from anyone.

It didn't matter if he had a hidden agenda, or if he would stop helping halfway through. Truth of the matter was, after running away I had no idea what to do. Without my mates, I was utterly alone, and had no idea how to fix the situation. If I hadn't met Castiel, then I would have most likely committed suicide.

It was a petty thing to do-suicide, but as much as would like to think myself strong, I knew I wouldn't have been able to live without my mates. Maybe if I hadn't ever met them. But not now. Not when I had tasted first-hand the joy of being with them. Not after knowing that it was now Stacy who enjoyed those pleasures. At least this gave me a chance to do something, to try and take back what was taken from me. And if it should fail, well, I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

My voice was soft when I spoke, my throat slightly sore from my sobs.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," I couldn't say anymore, and didn't really need to.

He got up slowly, dusting off imaginary dust from his trousers and walked to the giant Oak that I had found myself awaking next to. There was a hole in the trunk that I had not seen, and from it he produced a pair of shoes and brought them to me.

They were slightly worn, and sized for a man-him probably- but I had no complaints. The trainers were a grey colour, and the insides were cushioned so that when I slipped my feet in, it felt like heaven. He reached out his hand towards me, and I grabbed it, letting him effortlessly pull me up. With no further words, he motion for me to follow him, and set off on a path through the woods with me trailing behind him.

Eventually we reached a large clearing in the woods, which felt strange to my senses, though I could not pinpoint why exactly. The circular space of land was illuminated by scattered rays of light and circled by a ring of weeping willows that looked decades old, the long wisps of the leaves drooping down onto the forest floor, but instead of giving the scene a melancholy feel, the trees felt as if they were alive, and almost humming with magic. The rest of the clearing was just clear grass with a few stray flowers here and there, but the real strangeness of the place lay in the building in the centre of it.

I looked at it. Blinked. Looked again, and took a double take. There in the centre of the clearing was a tower. It rose about 5 floors into the sky and blocked out the sunlight. I appeared to be made out of a dark black glossy stone, the likes of which I had never seen before. The black looked as if it would swallow me if I got too close, and although the surface was extremely shiny, there were no reflections on its surface.

Yes, the tower was creepy, and I couldn't figure out how I hadn't seen it the second I had entered the clearing, but it wasn't the strangest thing. The strangest thing was the cottage. The small, humble home was made of wood and seemed as if it were a natural part of the forest, rather than a man-made construct. Green vines crept up the walls and onto the thatched roof, giving a sense of age to the place.