Warning: This story is pretty much the product of me being bored and not wanting to work on anything else. There's not much in the way of an outline and the plot isn't super heavy or gut-wrenching, so if you're looking for something that blows your mind, you've come to the wrong place. The characters might be a tiny bit OOC as well, as I'm not trying so hard this time around. Basically, this is pretty much just some fluff-n-guff, ready for a quick read. So if that what you were looking for, or you just don't care all that much, then, well... enjoy!

Chapter Rating: K+

1. Just Doin' Ma Job

Being a cupid wasn't always this difficult. Ethriel could remember a time where the jobs were nice and orderly, coming once a day and in situations that didn't require her to get beat up or shouted at. But it seemed almost commonplace anymore. Any cupid who dared showed their face were bound to be sought after and punished for simply being an angel. And even when they kept their guard up and hid while trying to simply do their job, there was always someone waiting right there, ready to take them down by any means necessary.

It was almost as if the once great hunters wanted all love to disappear.

Of course, Ethriel couldn't really blame the poor humans for keeping themselves on their toes - Father knows they had had it rough lately - but how was an angel supposed to do their job under these conditions?

Oh, and the humans weren't the only ones giving the poor lower classes a hard time, but the other angels were too. Why should cupids, the lowest of them all, still be able to keep their wings? No one knew. But the angels were scared and angry, and they were all looking for ways to get their frustrations out. And if a silly cupid, still fluttering about with their beautiful wings and glowing smiles just happened to be around at the time? Well, they'll get what's coming to them.

Actually, Ethriel had her ideas. Of course angels weren't supposed to have their own thoughts, especially cupids, but she couldn't help herself. Why had all the cupids kept their wings? To her, it was quite simple - they had never actually fallen. Cupids were already physically on the Earth, and they didn't get the poor feathers torn up in the descent. She didn't really understand why no one else got that. Or, at least, why no one addressed it.

No, what confused her was where her orders were still coming from.

All of the angels had fallen - there was no one left in Heaven. So why were there still jobs being imprinted within her? To be honest, the process of her assignments had never really interested her. But now that she thought about it, it was strange how she suddenly got the order in her head that she needed to set a couple up. She never heard voices, never had any contact with anyone. She had simply thought that it was a simpler way for them to give her orders, but now that there was no one there, who was doing the imprinting? Did the assignments actually come from herself?

No, that was just crazy. Maybe there was a list of them, and she was still running through them and going down it. In fact, for almost three years now, the amount of jobs had come rapidly and without order. Maybe they had come so fast that not all of the cupids could fulfill them, and they were still trying to finish the list. When Michael fell into the pit, there was no more pattern. Everything was just a wash of demands and no one was trying to meet them.

Except for the cupids.

They were a very devoted little bunch, and they knew it. And so they worked and worked on that list, going down it and slowly the names disappeared over time. Not many questioned their origins, but like I said, Ethriel was different.

She remembered her time in Heaven, and how peaceful it had been. She remembered when she had been told to return to the Earth as a messenger of love. She remembered not knowing the first things about humans and how they went about their short lives. But she loved them, with her whole being. Maybe that was why God had chosen for her to become a messenger. But if that were the case, why had she been granted with individuality? Cupids worked in numbers, and they were all connected. Except for her.

Of course she heard them, and she knew who was doing what so she would go her own way and work on other jobs, but why was she given the ability for such thought?

As she strode into the laundromat, she thought about just that. Why did she think? Why did she have the ability to stop what she was doing and listen to her own thoughts? Why was she who she was? Was she special for a reason? Sighing, she sat down on one of the benches within the small public washroom and drowned in these thoughts.

It had been at least ten minutes before she grew overwhelmed by her train of thought and stopped. It was a disease, really, to have one's mind always scrambling for a new topic, always unsure of itself. She wondered if perhaps it was a curse, rather than a gift. She looked around the laundromat, twirling her fingers around her vessel's long braid.

There was another topic of interest, she thought excitedly. She picked up the long rope of red hair again, bringing it closer to her face this time to examine it in more depth. Her vessel was a fairly kind young woman, she remembered. She had the largest eyes Ethriel had ever seen on a human, huge and with such a dark brown they looked black. She had worn very heavy makeup around those eyes, seeming to favor them as her best feature. Ethriel agreed. She also had a dainty button-like nose and small, pink lips. Her skin was tanner than some, but very smooth and delicate. Her long, flat hair had been done up into a side braid that hugged her features before running over her shoulder and dangling elegantly below her small breasts. The deep red of the hair color was something Ethriel had never seen on a human before. It reminded her of the color of blood, yet at the same time it was very beautiful.

Ethriel remembered the night she had asked for her permission. She had talked to the human girl previously - in fact the had known her for years before approaching her, and even then she did so in between large bouts of time. It almost came to the point where the girl's family and friends simply dismissed it as an imaginary friend that had stuck around for too long. But the girl knew, and Ethriel still came.

It was late the night before, and Ethriel had waited for her young vessel to leave the event she had come to know as a 'fundraiser'. Ethriel remembered the girl telling her that she was raising money for a charity through hosting a party around a game called 'bowling'. Ethriel had never heard such a thing, but she stayed to observe. It was good that her vessel was actively pursuing charity.

When the event had ended, the girl asked Ethriel if she could have one more night. Of course Ethriel was sure that her waiting for too long now would result in some sort of punishment, but at that point she hadn't much cared. She was new to the job of a cupid - in fact hadn't even begun - and it seemed less important than making sure her vessel was ready to come with her before finally taking over. She knew that the girl would be ready to accept her grace should she ask for it, but Ethriel didn't. She simply waited.

The next night, the girl had gone out again, but this time with one person - a young man. He was uninteresting enough, with light brown hair and thin glasses, but her vessel looked so pleased to be with him. Ethriel learned that night what it was for two humans to 'date', and it reaffirmed her belief that God had chosen correctly in giving her this assignment. It made her proud to be a cupid.

When the date ended, he took her home and gave her a peck on the cheek before leaving. She was beaming, and Ethriel felt a pang of guilt for needing to take this life away from her. She felt torn, and was thinking of returning to Heaven before her vessel turned straight towards her. Ethriel was surprised when her vessel still displayed the desire to be with her. She lead Ethriel upstairs toward her bedroom. "Do you want me to change?" she asked, looking down at her dress.

Ethriel took in the sight before her. Her vessel was dressed in a long gown that ran from under her shoulders to past her ankles. The top was a dark black, but it gradually faded into a glowing white around her feet. She wore beautiful white earrings that barely hung beside her jawline. She wore her dark eye makeup with her usual braid, and she looked absolutely gorgeous. "I would not ask you to change your beauty," she breathed, grinning at her vessel.

The young girl smiled brightly at her then, nodding excitedly. Ethriel would never forget her last words to her. "Then… Yes, Ethriel."

Ethriel was snapped out of her memories when a stout man in overalls and big glasses came walking into the laundromat, his arms full of clothes and dirt smothered across his face. This was a working man. As he walked farther in and placed his stuff down next to one of the machines, she smiled softly. One down, she thought to herself.

A few minutes lolled on by when the door ringed again and a woman walked in. She was taller than the man, but she held tired eyes and her hair was frayed in multiple ways. She looked like she had a very rough day. She held but maybe two or three pieces of clothes. And the other, thought Ethriel.

She watched as the woman threw her things into a machine and stuck a few quarters in the slot. She looked up at the man as if to ask if it was okay to sit there, but he barely noticed she was there. Exasperated, she threw herself down anyway with a loud grunt. The bench shook under the weight and the man looked up in surprise. "Sorry," she grumbled, not looking at him, and not looking sorry at all.

Well that just won't do, thought Ethriel slyly. She got up from her own bench across the room and walked around the line of machines towards them. She never was the smoothest of angels, but she knew how to get things done. And so, with a look of surprise and a well-placed left foot, she flung herself towards the man and screeched like she knew young women did.

In an instant the man stood up and caught her, but it was too much weight for the stout man apparently, and they both came toppling back towards the bench. She grasped at him and the bench, flinging herself toward the metal seat with frustration. She hadn't meant to create such a scene. As she floundered in his grasp, she accidentally grabbed onto the woman beside him, who was now trying to ease her way out of the bench in shock. Ethriel dragged them both unceremoniously together as she finally toppled to the ground with a huff.

Her hair flayed everywhere and her knee in a bad place ever since it hit the tiled floor, she stood up with a grunt and a furrowed brow. That was not the way that was supposed to have gone! She spared a glance at the man, who was now trying to sit up straight on the bench, and mumbled a "Sorry," before walking back towards her own bench.

She glanced back to see the two looking at each other in shock before breaking out in quiet hysterics. They were most likely trying to hide their laughter for her sake, but she didn't care. Smoothly or not so much, she had done her job at least.

Sighing, she reached her bench and slowly reached down to collect her bag. It wasn't really hers, per se, but it was her vessel's and she carried it around to blend in more (though she didn't seem to understand that a fancy gown and jewelry didn't really fit in on the streets anyway). As she reached down, however, she noticed something in a trash bin beside the machines. It looked larger than the normal things she usually found in disposal units.

Curiosity got the best of her and she left her bag on the bench to go examine it. She poked her head in further to see what exactly it was, and it looked like a large coat. Stumped, she reached in and pulled the piece of clothing out.

It was a trenchcoat, tan in color, with a large flap that draped across the shoulders and a belt that sagged down the back as if it had never been used. What was even more curious was the blood splattered across the neck. Looking back in the bin, Ethriel noticed there was a whole suit inside. She wondered who would discard their entire outfit like that.

Frowning, she studied the trenchcoat again. It looked so familiar, but she couldn't seem to place where she had seen it before. She felt a strange urge to keep it. Throwing it into the machine, she put a few quarters from her vessel's bag in the slot and waited for it to clean the clothing. After a while's wait of cleaning and drying the coat, she threw it over her shoulders and went to look at herself in front of a mirror conveniently placed on the wall.

She stood in front of the reflective surface for what felt like hours, taking in the appearance of her dress and hair along with her newly acquired coat. It seemed so out of place, as if there was something that was supposed to be with the coat but was no longer near. Then, slowly, she started to remember.

It was Castiel's.

She had fought under Castiel many years ago, before she had been reimagined as a cupid. She fought alongside him and many other angels in countless wars. Even after she was reimagined, she often visited him. They were more than comrades, some could say. Friends. She had even visited him after Lucifer and Michael were trapped within the Cage. He had been very different then, but still the same Castiel under it all. But every time she had seen him in his vessel, he was wearing this trenchcoat. It was a symbol of his rebellion. She had heard of the stories that he had fallen and died many times, but she never believed it. But the Winchesters were legendary, and everyone spoke of Castiel, guardian angel of the Winchester brothers.

She just never would have thought…

Was he the reason the angels fell?

She knew that the Winchesters had been involved somehow - they always were. And if he had been involved, that would explain why all the talk among the angels were that of capturing Castiel. She tended to not listen to the 'angel radio' very often, as it was generally unpleasant and boring, but…

She tuned in. Instantly, she felt at least a hundred different groups of angels conspiring against each other, talking about taking Castiel down, and capturing Metatron. Metatron, the Scribe of God? Was he to blame? Immediately, she turned the 'radio' off. No. She had never met Metatron, didn't know him, but Castiel? He was a good leader. A good angel.

A good friend.

Lost in her confusing train of thought once again, Ethriel groaned in exasperation and walked out of the laundromat, the trenchcoat still wrapped around her, and flew out into the night.