A/N: I'm actually pretty excited for this story, because I'm hoping it'll be really popular. I love it actually, and I can't usually say that about things that I write. So please, be kind with this story. Oh, and as always, my views are not shared or expressed by any of the characters in this story or any of my other stories. Especially not this story.

As always, I do not share any views expressed by any characters in this story. And I own nothing in this story.

So, I really hope you guys enjoy this story. Please read, review, and enjoy!

For many years, Castiel Novak had been reaching out to the people of Los Angles, California. In some cases, his words had fallen upon deaf ears, foolish and unruly - too far gone. Even so, Castiel persisted, believing that it was his purpose to help those that had delved too deep into the darkness that seemed to have no end.

Reverend Novak owned a small church in one of the more dangerous parts of LA, left to him by his father. There, it was dark almost all of the time. Many believed the light of God did not reach there. Castiel had chosen this place for a reason.

Not many people came to Reverend Novak's sermons. Those that did were seeking shelter from the blazing, insecure world they dwelled in. To them, Castiel's words held comfort, promise, care. Castiel told them stories of a great and glorious place that awaited them, out of the arms of this Hell.

Sometimes, Reverend Novak would see an unfamiliar face among the pews. He would smile, give a nod, but no further acknowledgement. Most of the time, new people were unsure, embarrassed to be so unfamiliar, and Castiel wished not to call too much attention to them or drive them away. In very few cases, these people would come back once or twice, but then they usually returned to the world of dark without a light to guide them. Castiel tried not to blame himself or doubt his sermons.

On Saturday evenings, Reverend Novak would dress in casual clothes and walk about the filthy streets, in search of people that he could reach out to. Some people scattered like frightened flocks of birds; others hung around a little bit longer, only to run away later. Castiel was mostly in search of prostitutes or drug addicts living on the streets. He hoped that if he gave them things they might need - certificates to get food nearby, clean syringes, condoms - along with a note card with a handwritten bible verse and his phone number, they might seek him for help again. Reverend Novak's plan was to eventually see them sitting in the back of his church, lurking unknown to everyone else, even if it was just to shade themselves from the heat.

Castiel had a small group that he would meet with on Wednesdays. Together, they collected food and clothes for the homeless, along with things that he could give to people he met on Saturdays in his searches. At first, they had been doubtful of what Reverend Novak was doing with the people that hadn't made the best of choices, but with time, they believed he was making progress, and they were able to get behind their church leader in his decisions.

So, when Castiel met with this group one Wednesday to discuss a new plan of his, he was not surprised when most of them instantly disapproved.

They all sat down in a small room towards the back off the church, where they usually would meet. This room had a small, white, plastic table, six cold, metal, folding chairs, and was lit by a dim, fluorescent light that tended to flicker and sometimes even go out for a few seconds.

Reverend Novak took his seat, clipboard in hand, and gave a smile to them all. "Good afternoon, everyone. I trust you all made it here safely."

"Good evening, Reverend," they all responded, almost in haunting unison.

Castiel cleared his throat and glanced at his clipboard. "I have a new mission I would like to present to the group today." He looked up, making eye contact with each of them. "We all know that the project of helping prostitutes and drug addicts has been going quite smoothly." Some of them nodded at this point. "It has been such a success, that, today, I would like to propose adding on to the project - or rather, expanding, just a bit." A few members of the group adjusted uncomfortably in their chairs.

Castiel put down his clipboard and folded his hands on the cool, plastic table. "I would like to begin reaching out to…exotic dancers."

One of the women gave him a strange look. "Like belly dancers?"

"No, Margret, he's talking about strippers," her husband responded, giving Reverend Novak a scowl. "What makes you want to reach out to such a damned group of people, Reverend?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "Well-"

"I did not join this group to begin working with a bunch of whores," an older gentleman commented.

Castiel gave him an understanding glance. "Could strippers be any worse than prostitutes, Mr. Devan?" He looked to Margret's husband. "And you, Harold, what makes you think that the strippers are such a damned bunch?"

Harold swallowed, a bit nervous-looking. "Well, if they aren't, then why are you wanting to help them, Reverend?"

Castiel looked down at the table. "As hard as it may be to believe, strippers tend to be a very damaged group of people." He began to make eye contact with everyone again. "Most of them have gone through a very traumatic past of sexual abuse which has led them to the line of work they have entered. They have been made to believe that they are garbage, and that they are good for nothing but to be used by other men for pleasure. However, they are in a much safer workplace than prostitutes. Even so, some of them eventually are led to becoming prostitutes, and some of them suffer with drug addictions." He paused here for a moment. "So, as you can see, Harold, I have very much reason to be concerned for their welfare. Many of them did not mean for their lives to go so astray, and they are just waiting for someone to come and save them."

Mr. Devan scoffed. "And you believe that you can be such a so-called hero?"

Castiel looked at him, his eyes forgiving. "No. I believe that God should be their savior from the life they have entered. Some of them just need to be led in God's direction."

At that, Mr. Devan looked down at his beat up, leather loafers, and he fell silent. Castiel looked at Margret, who seemed worried at this point. "Would it not be smarter to help the strippers before they become prostitutes and obtain sexual diseases of some kind? We can stop their lives from becoming worse before they ever make the decision to move to the streets."

And, with a little bit more convincing, most of the group was in agreement that the strippers did need help. It would mean more work on Wednesdays, and it would mean more fundraisers to get more syringes and condoms and other things the strippers might need, but Reverend Novak had persuaded most of them to believe that it would be worth it in the end.

It was two weeks later when Castiel decided it was time to go to his first strip club. Though none of the other members of the church knew it, Castiel had been doing much mental preparation for this moment. On the inside, Castiel was apprehensive himself about expanding. What if it didn't go well? The entire church would be laughing at him. Or even worse, doubting him.

Regardless, this had to be done. And Castiel believed that he had to be the one to do it.

On his walk over to Hands Down, his first club, he decided to turn off the gospel music on his iPod, and changed it over to "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson. If people back at the church knew that Castiel was a fan of the king of pop, there was no question in his mind that they would begin looking for a different church.

Upon reaching the club, he turned off his music, stuffing his earbuds into his pocket along with his iPod. After a curious glance was passed to him by the bouncer at the front door, Castiel walked into his first strip club.

Pink, red and green lights flashed and faded around the room. Castiel was surprised to see that this was a club that had both male and female dancers. He had never heard of a strip club being unisex before - though, he didn't know too much about strip clubs to begin with.

For the first few minutes, Castiel was incredibly nervous. His heart was pounding, and he was trying to keep his eyes on the floor. He only talked to strippers that were walking around, looking for someone that wanted a lap dance. He would give them each a note card with a bible verse, and ask if they needed anything else. If they did, he would give it to them and be on his way. Some of the strippers told Castiel that he was sweet and he was doing a good thing; others either glared or laughed in his face, and walked away before he could even finish saying his name.

As Castiel was talking to a lady with short black hair, all the lights turned dark red, and people began cheering and screaming. Castiel quickly looked around, concerned. This light made it look as if everyone was drenched in blood. "What's happening?" he asked the stripper that went by the name of Mystic.

Mystic smiled, pulling the lollipop from her mouth. "Everyone's favorite dancer is coming out."

Castiel looked over at the stage she idled to. Both men and women surrounded it, making Castiel wonder who might be about to come out. He found himself drawing closer.

Music started up, and it was a song that Reverend Novak wasn't familiar with. Was this the style of music that the young people called dubstep? Actually, the song playing was 'Trickster" by Obsidia, though Castiel would never be able to guess that.

A dark figure began to emerge and come closer to the pole that was at the front of the stage. Castiel could tell from the outline of the person that it was a man, and he immediately felt as if he should turn away.

Then, as someone in the music cried out, "Woo! Uh!" a spotlight hit the figure, lighting him up for everyone to see, and he took to the pole. He wore an open, slightly torn leather jacket, faded jeans, and hiking boots - a lot of clothing for a stripper, Castiel thought. A few seconds into his dance, the stripper let his arms go back, and the jacket slipped right off of his hard, muscled figure, falling to the floor. The crowd was howling. Castiel swallowed and tried to look down at the floor.

The dancer continued for a few more seconds, then stopped briefly, and Castiel wondered what was happening. Then, someone in the song cried out, "Oh fuck!" and Castiel almost fainted to see the stripper rip off his jeans, reduced only to his hiking boots and a very small, black pair of underwear that fit him rather tightly. The lights went dark red again, and the stripper went back to the pole, his movements much more fluid now. Castiel began praying that no more clothes were going to come off.

Something very strange happened a few minutes into the stripper's dance. Castiel thought that perhaps he was imagining it, but he could've sworn that the man on stage looked right into his eyes during part of the dance. This did something strange to Reverend Novak's heart. It felt tight in his chest, and then seemed to drop harshly into the pit of his stomach.

During one part of the song, Slayer stopped to grab the pole with both hands, and slowly lifted himself off the ground, until he was hanging perpendicular to the pole, his body entirely straight as if he was hanging from a pull up bar. He somehow began dancing like that, and it almost became too much for Castiel to bear, thinking about how strong and fit the stripper must be.

After the stripper's first dance, Castiel turned completely away from the stage, hoping that he could avoid seeing any more. The lights turned back down to how they'd been before Slayer made his appearance, and the reverend had to rub his eyes in an attempt to adjust to the new lighting. He looked to one of the other strippers who had been standing there, watching the man's performance. "Who is he?" Castiel asked.

The blonde smiled at him, pulling the costume glasses from her face. "That's Slayer. He's one of the most popular dancers." She paused to take notice of Castiel's expression. "Reverend, it might just be the bad lighting in here, but are you blushing?"

At that, Castiel gave her a look of don't be ridiculous and shook his head. "It must be the lighting."

She gave him a smile. "Well, if you're really wanting to reach out to people here, you should probably start with Slayer. If you can get him, you'll get everyone else."

Castiel knew she was right, and he gave her a nod of thanks before walking over to one of the small tables and taking a seat. His mind was scrambled right now, and he needed to rest for a moment. After all, he was 29 and this was his first night in a strip club. How could he not be flustered? All he had seen for the past hour and a half were half-naked, glistening, writhing bodies. Not something most pastors were supposed to see.

Castiel knew that his mind must be playing tricks on him when, a few minutes later, Slayer came and sat down at his table, jeans back on, but still shirtless. "Did you enjoy the dance?" he asked.

Castiel kept his eyes on the table, his eyes wide. "Not too much," he admitted - or, perhaps, and Castiel hoped it wasn't the case, lied.

The stripper chuckled once. "And why not? You seemed to be liking it while you were watching. Heck, you watched the whole first dance."

Castiel swallowed, struggling to bring moisture to his suddenly dry throat. "I-I didn't come here to watch people dance."

The stripper chuckled again. "Are you lost?"

Two girls walked up to their table then, both smiling wide and holding back giggles. "Hello, Mr. Slayer?" The stripper looked up at them with a smile before they continued. Castiel actually gasped when they both pulled down their shirts, exposing their bras. "Will you sign our boobs?"

At this, Slayer laughed and pulled out a sharpie. "Only if you promise not to wash it off anytime soon." He signed both the girls' chests, and they erupted into giggles before hurrying away. Slayer turned back to his uneasy friend, giving a little smirk. "Are you feeling okay? You don't seem very comfortable."

Castiel shook his head, wiping his brow. "No, no I believe I'm in over my head here." He glanced at Slayer for a moment then looked away again. "I'm a reverend. I think it was a mistake to come here."

The stripper gave him a confused look. "You look a bit young to be a pastor." Then he smiled a little. "What's a reverend doing here, anyway?"

Castiel forced himself to look up at the stripper. This was his chance to really help people, and he had to take it. He could pray about everything later. "I've come here to try and help you all and hopefully help lead you all to better lives."

The stripper gave a small nod. "So, you're trying to convert all of us." He pursed his lips. "Haven't had that happen before."

Castiel sat up straighter, and tried to push back his fears. "You know, you don't have to do this for a living, have this life. You could have such a bright and beautiful future."

"Of what? Heaven?" The stripper scoffed. "Please."

Reverend Novak looked at him questioningly. "You don't believe in the Kingdom of Heaven?"

The stripper laughed a little, leaning back in his chair. "I guess it's not so much as I don't believe, but more like, why should I be on my toes and try to be a goody-goody just so I can have peace 50 years from now? What's the point in that? I'd rather like what I'm doing now and be happy than have to worry about what's going to happen to me

when I die."

Castiel hadn't been expecting for the stripper to make such a good case of his faith affiliations. Usually the young pastor could combat any argument thrown at him, but now, he had nothing. Maybe it was this atmosphere - perhaps it was messing with his head. He shook his head, putting his face in his hands.

Slayer looked at him with a bit of concern. "Starting to doubt yourself, Pastor?"

Castiel looked up at him with a bit of surprise. "Of course not. To doubt my mission is to doubt my faith."

The stripper put up his hands a little, half smiling. "Okay, okay. Sorry." Slayer glanced around. "Hey, you want a drink or something? You look a bit on edge."

Castiel waved a hand. "Oh no, I don't drink."

Slayer rolled his eyes. "Typical." He slumped into his chair, looking bored. "So, you have anything else to say to me?"

Reverend Novak looked at the stripper with question. "What?"

Slayer shrugged. "Well, I was expecting you to be more interesting." He half smiled for a second then it faded. "I guess you kind of are. I haven't had a pastor come and talk to me before. But, if I can say this, I don't know, you're not a very good pastor."

Castiel sat up straight, cocking an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Slayer smiled a little. "Well, you're not fighting very hard to convert me, or anything. You just said that's what you're supposed to be doing, but you don't look like you're trying."

Castiel looked away from the stripper, knowing how right he was. "I…I just can't think in here," he admitted.

Slayer laughed a little. "Then maybe we should go outside." Then he stood, surprising Castiel a little bit. "Come on. I need a smoke anyway."

Castiel found himself standing maybe a little too quickly to follow the stripper out one of the back doors, getting stared down by bouncers. "It's okay, guys, he's with me," Slayer had said, and they let them through.

Slayer pushed through a heavy-looking metal door, out into the warm night. The door closed loudly behind them, and Castiel jumped slightly. The stripper slipped a pack of cigarettes out of his jean pocket, pulling out one of the sticks of nicotine. He looked up at Castiel from the pack. "You got a light?"

Castiel hesitated before coming back to reality, and reached into the pocket of his trench coat to pull out a lighter, which he was going to hand to Slayer, but then Slayer leaned forward, expecting the pastor to light the cigarette for him. Reverend Novak swallowed, fumbling slightly before he lit the stripper's cigarette. Slayer took in a drag, and it held it for a few seconds before breathing long streams of smoke out his nostrils. He hummed slightly, and Castiel was surprised at how erotic he found the whole scene.

Slayer half smiled, cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. "Is that blush I see?"

Castiel turned his face to the ground, feeling his cheeks growing hotter. He cursed this strange-natured feeling he was having. Slowly, his heartbeat came into his ears, and he almost didn't hear the stripper ask him, "So, you got a name, or should I just keep calling you Pastor?"

Castiel nodded a little, then paused. "Rev. Castiel Novak. But you can call me Castiel if you wish."

"I'll call you Cas," the stripper stated, breathing out smoke again.

Castiel nodded in reply. "Okay, then."

A/N: So, what you do guys think? This story just sort of came to me one day. Actually, the whole thing was built around "Trickster", which I suggest you all go listen to in order to get a better feel for the scene when Dean is dancing on the pole. Yes, if you haven't guessed yet, the stripper is Dean. But I think I put that in the description… I can't remember. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to writing more of this story, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it!