Title: Absolution

Author: TigerTiger02

Chapter Title: Your Heart Is An Empty Room

Spoilers: pretty much if you haven't seen any season four you probably shouldn't be reading this since Castiel is featured heavily. Pre-"I Know What You Did Last Summer"…. And considering this has been Kripke'd (although I've been working on it for a good month) I think you all know where this is heading…

Summary: Castiel's retrieves Sam and Dean for a mission from God. Guess they didn't expect it to be an a broken girl that has a enough secrets to choke a person. Blasphemy ridden and Shameless Castiel/OC.

Disclaimer: not mine, if it was I would totally take Castiel home as pet, he's just so darn cute!

Dedication: to Nikki, who urged me to post this even though I was sorely tempted not.

They're in Michigan, already fast asleep, when Castiel appears in their hotel room. Of course Dean already knew he was there when he woke up but Sam had fallen off his bed with a start. Somehow Dean always knew when the angel was close by, he blamed it on the mark on his shoulder. Once Sam recovered from his fall and Dean had pulled on a pair of pants (grousing to Castiel about no sense of personal space or modesty) the angel spoke.

"There is something… someone you need to retrieve." Dean felt his eyebrows raise and he frowned slightly.

"Well which is it? Something or someone?" Dean asked his voice gruff.

"It's… complicated. Isabella Monroe is… extremely complicated." The angel's voice, or rather the vessel's voice, was weary and tired.

"Isabella Monroe? Why does that sound familiar?" Sam asked out loud. His brow was furrowed and Dean knew that his brother would be stuck on research mode for the next couple of days.

"It shouldn't." Castiel said with a frown. "Isabella Monroe is a fairly insignificant mortal. She is unnoticeable… Isabella Monroe was created to not be noticed, to be uniform and conformed."

"So what's the problem? Sam probably just knows someone with a similar name."

"The point is that no one should know her or remember her with the exception of the people hand chosen. That is the problem. Sam is not one of those hand picked people."

"Who is the chick anyway? Why is she so important?"

"She is… it is difficult to explain but she is essentially a weapon… of sorts." Castiel seemed hesitant to even reveal that much.

"What? What kind of weapon are we talking about here, like kick-ass chick with powers or like chick with powers that could end the world?" Dean asked curiously. Castiel turned his eyes to Dean, piercing him with a solemnity that never ceased to amaze the man.

"She could rip apart existence by sneezing if she wanted, which is why we locked her in a human body, it was the only way we could make sure no one could find her and use her. But like all human bodies she is susceptible to being killed."

"What the hell were you thinking? Putting a dangerous weapon on Earth? You're supposed to protect us! Not put Atomic-Bomb Girl smack dab in the middle!" Dean's voice is harsh and hard, its one of the moments in time when hears himself speak and feels like its John's words and voice coming out of his mouth, not his own.

"The only way that can happen is if the body is killed, the blood is spilled, and the right words spoken. Then Lilith can take control of the being inside of the body. I do not intend to let that happen." Castiel's voice is threaded with determination and Dean blinks at him slightly.

"Is she one of the Seals?" Sam asks suddenly, curiosity coloring his voice. Castiel levels his eyes at Sam.

"In a way. She can easily break the Seals without a thought. It must be why Lilith is after her. It is curious you ask about that…" He trails off and there's implication in his words. Dean picks up his thought process and turns to Sam, his eyes blazing.

"Ruby mentioned Isabella Monroe, didn't she?" he hisses angrily and Sam winces for a split second before blinking rapidly.

"She might have said something…" Sam says after a long moment, Dean was sure he was lying, at least a little bit. He only did that blinking thing when he lied.

"And what did she say?" Sometimes getting straight answers from Sam was like pulling teeth.

"She said that she had better things to do… like keep watch on Isabella Monroe… it was a while back…" Castiel starts slightly and there's a fluid, quick utterance in a language neither of the boys recognize. Dean figures it must be Aramaic or some shit.

"She's located Isabella Monroe; we must extract her before Lilith gets wind of this." Castiel says and he looks around the room. "Pack quickly. Isabella is not too far from here."

Ten minutes later Castiel is seated next to Dean. Sam had waved his hand and said that he had a headache before seating himself in back. Already the kid was fast asleep. Dusk had fallen already and it was probably ten at night as they took off.

"So tell me about Isabella Monroe." Dean demanded slightly as he took a quick right. The angel says nothing for a long moment, just stares out the window but eventually he speaks.

"She is very precious to this world… to us… to my father… though she could destroy the world she has a great capacity for healing the world…" He pulls out a wallet and Dean nearly laughs at the thought of an angel carrying around a wallet, let alone pictures. In one of the plastic picture holders is the slightly crinkled picture of a girl. It looks like Castiel has gazed at the picture many times as the photo is worn.

"Is that her?" Dean asks curiously. Castiel hands him the photo hesitantly and Dean takes a moment to memorize the face. Long bangs falling across a forehead, dark colored hair, bright eyes and pale skin. High cheekbones and edged features creating harshness but a softly rounded chin and full lips negating the harshness. In the picture she was staring at the camera directly, face solemn and calm. There's a piercing quality to her eyes, something depthless and eternal. She's beautiful in an exotic sort of way, unconventionally beautiful. The photo is in black and white and it only makes her seem paler, ethereal. But the moment Dean hands the photo back to Castiel he's forgotten her face.

"Pretty, isn't she? But forgettable." For a moment the melancholy in the angel's eyes spread to the rest of him and he looks weary.

"What else?" Dean asks in the quiet. He doesn't bother with the radio, Sam would probably kill him and Castiel would be bothered by his choice in music.

"She is completely unaware of the power she holds her body… I wish I could keep it that way."

"How do you mean?"

"Over two thousand years ago she was an angel. Like me. Like Uriel. Like Lucifer once was… they were the first two creations of my father. They were meant to be companions for him but he was lonely and yearned for more. Lucifer and Isabella were twins you could say… after the Morning Star's fall the decision was made that Isabella was too dangerous to remain in angelic form. I… I hope you do not judge me."

"No worries man." Dean says, he may seem like the brawn to Sam's brains but he's pretty good at being sensitive when the moment calls for it.

"I rebelled against my father. I raged and screamed, threw a tantrum like a small child. I… I was in love with her." The angel went silent and Dean felt a pang of sympathy of the otherworldly man.

"So what happened?" he asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

"She… she calmed me down, told me there was a reason for this. Told me she feared the same from herself. She was afraid of her power, afraid that she would one day agree with her brother, despite the fact that she loved humans with all of her heart. She acquiesced to our father's request. She's was imprisoned in the body of a faithful follower, never knowing her true form, never knowing the power she holds, forgetting all she loved and held dear. Every generation she is born and grows and dies all for the process to be repeated. And I… I am forbidden to acknowledge her existence, to seek her out and try to put things right once more."

"So why are you allowed to now?"

"Because if she is not kept away from Lilith then the world will end and Lucifer will walk the earth once more."

"And?"

"And I am the only one who can release her, other than through force and spilling her human blood. I am the only one that can unlock her prison."

"And why is that?"

"Because we are connected, we joined souls in a way to pledge our love to each other. Our father wants her intact, wants to use her as a weapon, and wants her memories and knowledge. I am the only one that can cause her to remember. The only one who can release her, control her, protect her…"

"Because you love each other… by the way I thought you angels weren't supposed to love."

"We can. We have a great capacity for love. We are just not supposed to love humans in a carnal sense."

"Oh." And Dean goes back to driving and from the corner of his eye he can see Castiel gazing at the picture longingly, a single finger caressing the pretty face captured within.

At that very moment Isabella Monroe was just getting home from work. She yawned and stretched as she tossed her purse and light jacket on the couch next to her friend Eve. Eve looked up from her book and smiled.

"How was work?"

"Boring. What's for dinner?"

"Meh. Beats me." Eve stands as she speaks and stretches. Isabella picks up the book and laughs.

"The bible? Really? How many times have you read it?"

"Probably not nearly as much as you." Eve says snarkily and moves into the kitchen to rummage around in the fridge. Isabella rolls her eyes and slouches to her room.

She's twenty-four with no direction, still taking photographs on the side, taking a couple of classes at the community college, and still working at some shit animal hospital. Isabella thinks that she is destined for something bigger and better. It's just a feeling but that feeling swells in her chest and practically swallows everything she is. She's floating through life; college paid for with guilt money and no idea what the hell she wants to be when she grows up. It's been two years since she quit the coke, just sticking to alcohol whenever she needed a few moments of peace.

She takes a quick shower, a glass of vodka lemonade in her hand and the water is scalding hot. She doesn't dry her hair but does brush it out. In her bedroom she turns on her stereo and puts on Death Cab for Cutie. Like she does a lot she stands in front of the mirror, trying to figure out why this body doesn't feel like her own. Those are her hips, legs, ankles and her stomach and breasts. Those are her shoulders, a tad broad for a woman and her collar bone where another jagged scar of raised silver streamlines her left collar bone, from the hollow of her throat to her shoulder. She doesn't know where this scar came from, only that she had always had it since she could remember. Her eyes trailed up her neck, a smooth, pale column of throat to her face. From the edge of her high cheekbone, sharp and harsh to her delicate jaw line and her rounded chin, the pieces of her face that come together in a clash of features. Her wide eyes were a color she had never been able to name and her nose was straight and Romanesque. Eyebrows as dark as her hair and arched delicately, and finally her lips a full pout. All thrown together to make her. But the body had never felt like hers, the face didn't look like hers. It felt like it was a vessel, tight and sort of itchy. She catches her eyes in the mirror and frowns for a moment when another pair overlays them.

Isabella closes her eyes and wishes she could recall the face from her dreams. All she could remember were the eyes, a shade of blue she could never describe, like layers of blue atop each other, depthless and dizzying. The sky on a clear summer day, the ocean after a storm, the Caribbean Sea, all blues that shifted and faded and rose in those eyes. She opened her eyes and sighed before pulling on a pair of Victoria's Secret pajama pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, a pair of non-descript panties underneath, pale pink and cotton. She brushes her teeth and finishes the alcohol in a gulp. It was just a little something to make her feel, or make her stop feeling. She doesn't know what is it but she feels too much to the point of pain, or doesn't feel anything at all. It fluctuates frequently, and right now she's feeling too much.

In the kitchen she pours herself another drink, humming slightly. Her skin feels too tight right now, too raw, everything she touches feels like sandpaper against her skin. She feels like she on the edge of a precipice and ready to fall. The alcohol burns its way down her throat and she stuffs a piece of chewing gum in her mouth and cracks a window. The cigarette between her fingers is lit and she feels the dim-headed dizziness from the alcohol. She never makes her drinks strong so she doesn't feel tipsy just happy, flushed, and light. She sits pressed against the cool glass of the window and flicks ashes to the street below. Eve sits at the other window across from her; they don't meet each other's eyes but keep talking. There's a steady flow of cigarettes and conversation and the feelings are starting to burn off.

Two hours later Eve is making tea for the two of them, they've stopped drinking and the buzz has faded. There's a knock at the door and Isabella stares at the door for a long moment before unfolding herself from her chair, still smoking a cigarette, rolling the menthol taste with vodka around in her mouth. She opens it to three men standing there. One of them hangs back slightly but the other two are forefront. Both are attractive, one is taller than the other and has the sweet, confused face of a puppy, or at least a man-puppy. The other screams danger and sex with brilliant hazel eyes and pouted lips. She can't see the third's face just his build, which is slightly shorter than the other short man but still taller than herself.

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam-."

"Eve?" she calls before he can say anything else and the man who calls himself Dean bursts into chuckles before clearing his throat sheepishly.

"What?" Eve calls from the kitchen and she can hear the kettle whistling.

"Did you order male hookers again? Or strippers?" Isabella turns her eyes back to the three and frowns. "I'm going with hookers because they don't look like any male strippers I've seen. There are no cuffs either… which is kind of disappointing." Eve pads up behind her, blue eyes curious as she looks at the three.

"Uhm. No. Did you check and see if they're Jehovah Witnesses?"

"No." she turns her eyes back to the trio. "Well? What's the pitch boys?" she takes a drag and exhales to the side.

"We're actually not Jehovah Witnesses… although I guess you could mistake Cas for one." Dean says. She turns her eyes back to the shortest man who stands there awkwardly, his face averted and shadowed. She wishes she could see his face.

"Okay… well if you don't mind we have some things to do like sleep so-." She starts to close the door but a boot stops it.

"Look I'm not trying to be an intimidating dick but we're running out of time here." Dean says.

"Who said you were intimidating short-stuff?" She snarls out and there's this distinct feeling of power rushing through her veins. In situations like this, when she's threatened, something happens to make her feel as though she can do something besides being a victim.

"Whoa, just calm down. We just really need to talk to you about some things." Sam says and she turns her eyes to him and feels on edge, something about him makes the hair on the back of her neck rise and a snarl tears from her lips before she can even think about it.

Behind her she can feel the knife Eve has pressed into her hand (having retrieved it when the booted foot prevented her from closing the door) and she wraps her fingers around the handle. She knows how to use it without actually having the knowledge. There is silence where no one knows if they should strike or what they should do. Then the shortest of them all, the one who hadn't shown his face, steps forward and their eyes lock and there's something inside of her bubbling and boiling to the surface, about to break and crack like delicately spun glass.

"Isabella." His voice sounds like he's suffering and heartbroken but it's slightly rough and low and musical. It's a rasp of pain and a song of the heart. His eyes are the same eyes from her dream and she takes a ragged breath and steps back.

"What? I… who…" she stutters out, her breathing is sharp in her chest like glass and it hurts to look at him. She's gasping for air and the cigarette drops from her numb fingers. The knife clatters uselessly to the floor, he steps with her, and Eve is staring between her and the mysterious man.

Every step back she takes he takes a step forward. Before she knows it her back hits the wall and she's caged between the wall and the warm body in front of her. He's beautiful and she closes her eyes as he comes closer, the lines of their bodies just barely brushing, her lungs feel like they're being crushed. When she opens her eyes again the pieces of his face come together in that too-pretty face.

"Isabella." He whispers again, his full lips barely moving. She can't focus her eyes on his face anymore because he's too close; instead she catches bits and pieces. His hand comes up and rests gently on her cheek and she gasps harshly, the gasp ripping from her body like a sob. His fingers move to cup her cheek and her jaw.

His breath is hot in her face and it smells sweetly of something indefinable, and slightly spicy as if he had been chewing cinnamon gum only moments ago. She closes her eyes, swallowing heavily, and he's touching her and so damn close that it's making her weak. She has never felt so weak in her entire life, not even at her worst. Then his lips touch hers and she gives weak cry and a quick intake of air. The more he pushes his body against hers the more she feels as if she's being ripped apart, but its not painful, its like taking off ones clothing on a hot summer day, peeling the sweaty, itching clothing away to go for a swim. And when he breathes her name into her mouth, soft like a lover, intimate like a lover, the world starts to bend and break not quite shattering yet. His free hand buries itself into her hair and she brings a hand up, fingers threading into his hair as she desperately kisses him. Her other hand clutches the lapel of his coat.

She can't stop. She doesn't know this man but she can't stop. She lets out a desperate moan and he swallows it up hungrily. Her heart thunders in her chest, there's something within her clawing to get out, and it feels like he's the one who can let it out.

"Please." She whimpers. She can hear Eve shouting something and the brothers are saying something too. Her knees buckle slightly and he catches her against him, breaking his mouth from hers finally (and God she wanted him so suddenly and fiercely it hurts).

"What the hell was that?" Eve voice is shaky and when Isabella finally looks at her she is trapped between the brothers. She looks somewhere partway between pissed and elated. The brothers are staring at them with stun but there's a weird, proud grin on Dean's face.

"I…" she clears her throat, its rough with the lust that has been injected into her veins."I don't know." She finally admits, her heart is thundering in her chest (humming really because it's beating that fucking fast) and the strange man is still holding her between the wall and himself. Her head is started to clear and she realizes that no matter how fucking good that felt the man is still some creeper so she shoves him away harshly and steps away from him. She puts distance between the two of them and shivers when she realizes that he stares at her intently, eyes almost caressing her. She swallows heavily.

"Will someone please explain this shit?" Eve growls out and yanks her arms from the brothers. She stomps forward, faces the man who essentially violated Isabella and sucker punches him. He stares at her stunned and wipes the blood from his lip, eyes wide and confused. "Yeah that's right! I just fucking bitch slapped you! How dare you invade our home and grope my friend! You have no fucking-." Annoyed with her demeanor he raises two fingers and touches her forehead. She goes down like a roofied horse. Isabella stares at her for a moment before rushing forward and dropping to her knees. She checks her pulse before turning fierce eyes up at the man who whammied her friend.

"What the hell did you do to her? I swear I will kill you if you hurt her…" the threat hangs in the air for a moment before Dean steps in.

"Look just listen to what he has to say… it's kind of important. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't." Isabella turns to him, fiercely eyeing Dean and he takes a step back, grey eyes… she had grey eyes but like Castiel there were layers and dimension to the eyes, making them bleed light, silver, and power.

"Don't tell me what to do. Spit out whatever the fuck you want to say and leave." She snarls out before turning back to Eve. Her fingers, delicate and long, skimmed the sides of Eve's face, then her forehead. "Eve." She called softly, her voice hushed and musical. "Wake up Eve… Wake. Up." Isabella tapped her fingers against Eve's temples and the girl's eyes shot open.

"The fuck?" Eve said while gasping harshly. Her eyes were wild and she turned a glare to Isabella. "I hate it when you wake me up like that!" she said and sat up.

"Sorry. I was kind of worried for a second. Who knows what the hell that was?" Isabella stood fluidly and helped Eve up.

"I'm just going to go sit down… I think your little boyfriend's whammy is going to make me pass out again." Isabella nodded and shot a glance at the man that made her heart race like she had done a line or two of coke.

"I'm getting a drink and when I come back we're going to sort through this." Isabella says.

In the kitchen she does a couple of shots of vodka; throwing them back they they're water. For a long moment she contemplates the bottle before doing another shot.

"Vodka? Huh… I really didn't peg you for a vodka-girl." She turns and Dean is standing there. He holds out his hands. "Don't worry; unlike my friend I can't roofie you with one touch. My name's Dean, Dean Winchester." He holds out his hand expectantly and she shakes his hand. He had already introduced himself but she doesn't care.

"Isabella Monroe. But I suppose you already know that." He nods.

"Yeah but you're much different from what I expected. Cas… kind of built you up to be some pure, pious, God-fearing chick." Isabella laughs.

"Hardly. I'm agnostic… not very pious and definitely not pure. Just another confused, fucked-up, person… so what's your poison?"

"Whiskey." He leans against the counter and she pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniel's from the freezer, from the brief glimpse he's gotten of the freezer there's four or five bottles in there, varying brands and varying sizes. She cracks it open and gets out a shot glass. They do a shot together.

"So care to give me a little hint?" she finally asks. He smirks at her.

"Nope. Besides Cas is the one who could tell you the most." She nods and reaches out to grab the bottle, intending on taking it with her into the living room and shooting back the rest of it but Dean grabs her wrist and turns it over to reveal her shame. "What this?" he asked voice hard-edged and deadly soft. She takes a breath; it's been awhile since anyone has asked her what the Latin inked onto her wrist means so it takes a moment to respond.

"Just a little phrase in Latin." She whispers, because it's a lie, and because it's the truth.

"Meaning?" his eyes are brilliant to look into, hazel and mesmerizing, they're beautiful.

"Fear no Evils…" She said softly and tore her eyes from Dean's before taking another shot.

"Why did you get that inked instead of something flowery?" She answers in a rough voice.

"I saw it somewhere and it just sort of spoke to me." Isabella shrugs. "Lets get back out there. This conversation has been awkward enough. I'm halfway tempted to ask you to show me yours."

"I would prefer not to."

"Whatever." Isabella said and went to the living room.

In the living room Sam was sitting with Eve on the couch and the man with the eyes from her dreams was sitting placidly in one of the chairs. Dean had called him Cas. Isabella sat down between Eve and the end of the couch, Dean on the other side of Sam.

"Shot?" she offered as she poured one for herself. Eve takes one.

"Cheers."

"Salut." They knock them back, arched throats and shudders. Dean follows them with his own shot of whiskey.

"Sam? Cas?" Dean asks his brother and then the man. They both decline.

"So…" Eve says. "Spit it out." Unsurprisingly it's Cas that leans forwards slightly, leveling his eyes with Isabella's, who feels a flare of warmth at his gaze.

"Have you read the bible?" he finally asks and the girls blink at him.

"Yeah, I was just skimming Revelations when Isabella came home." Eve says. Isabella's silent for a moment.

"Yes." She finally says, her voice tired. She thinks of the bible beneath her pillow, a battered copy that had definitely seen better days. She thinks of how she's read it hundreds of times, trying to find meaning but failing every time.

"Good. This is easier to explain then." He leaned back. "Dean. Would you like to start?" he said it the way a marriage counselor would say it.

"Oh great. Put it on me, again. Okay, Eve, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember reading about the Sixty-Six Seals?" Dean asked. Eve and Isabella stared at him.

"There's only seven." Eve deadpanned; Dean glanced at Cas who tilted his head.

"So you would believe." He merely said and Dean shrugged.

"Right well either of you know anyone who calls herself Lilith?" Isabella drifted back into the conversation, her eyes refocused and she spoke.

"Not personally… but I have heard of her if you're talking about Biblical references to Lilith, though she's not mentioned in any typical bibles… you have to know what you are looking for. She was Adam's first wife, made as his equal until he believed himself above her and tried to force himself on her. She didn't like that, she wanted to top… I'm sure you guess what that means. She fled and God sent angels after her, to persuade her back into the fold… obvious it didn't work. She became a demon and roams around kicking puppies and drowning kittens I'm sure. What does she have to do with any of this?" Isabella said.

"Did you feel the hair rising on your neck? Did you feel the urge to find a weapon and use it?" Cas asked suddenly and Isabella blinked at him.

"Maybe."

"Interesting."

"Anyway… we're getting off topic here." Sam said blithely.

"And what is the topic?" Eve asked.

"The apocalypse." Dean said seriously. And Isabella starts laughing.

"Oh okay right. I'm shakin' in my slippers. Oooh… scary. What are you saying? That you're what? Angels come to herald the destruction of mankind? Is God really that cruel? We're ants in ant farm for him, his pretty little side-project to keep him amused, so we fuck up, a lot. There's no reason to destroy mankind… at any rate none of you look like the type of angels to be cuddy and obnoxious and somehow I doubt any of you can rain fire."

"Enough!" Cas snaps out. "You are bordering on blasphemy, Isabella. Our father may forgive your other sins in lieu of what is happening but he will not forgive blasphemy so easily, especially from one he loves so dearly." She drew back and stares at him in shock.

"You guys are fucking serious, aren't you?"

"No lie…" Sam said gently.

"So what? What happens now? Why are you here? What's going on?" Dean leaned forward and stared at her.

"Two months ago I was in hell. I sold my soul to save Sam and… Castiel pulled me out. Plunked me back into my body because God has work for me. Lilith is trying to break the sixty-six seals that keep Lucifer imprisoned and you… you're a very special person. And I don't mean short-bus special."

"I want proof." She said slowly. Dean shrugged off his coat and pulled up his shirtsleeve. Branded into his flesh, skin still pink, shiny and slick from healing, was a burned handprint. "What is that?" She gasped.

"My handprint. I gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition."

"And you're what exactly because I'm still having a little trouble believing this." She hissed out, eyes narrowing on Cas.

"Castiel. I'm an Angel of the Lord." He says bluntly.

Isabella blinks at him and he stands, suddenly very intimidating instead of defeated. The lights flicker, and then go out even as something else flickers on, it's like lightning, streaking through the room shadowing and highlighting the expanse of what looks like a pair of wings. They spread across the room, bending with the curves and corners of things and they're brilliant shadows. But she blinks and they're gone. The light flickers back on and Castiel sits once more. His face is patient, waiting for her reactions.

She doesn't know what kind of reaction they're expecting from her and Eve but from their faces they certainly didn't expect her to start laughing hysterically. She laughs until she starts to cry and her low, moaning sobs fill the room. The taste of grief is heavy on her tongue and she's feeling too much again, she's attuned to all of the fleeting, transient emotions in the room, in the building, in the town, the state, the country, the entire fucking world and its makes her heart hurt, her soul ache.

"It's too much." She declares. "It's much too much." Her fingers twitch, wanting to cover her ears, to sew up her heart so this can all stop but instead she stands, delicate fingers wrapping around the bottle of what remains of the vodka and departs from the room.

In her room she ignores Eve's threats, ignores Sam and Dean's pleas, and ignores Castiel's oppressive and solemn silence. She pulls the covers over her body and closes her eyes while taking a long pull from the bottle, the alcohol burns down her throat making her shudder.

"Too much." She whispers to herself, soft and broken.

A/N: Well this has been my pet-project for a good month and I have spent many sleepless nights filling in the blanks and molding it carefully… then Kripke does "I Know What You Did Last Summer" and "Hell's Angels"… so I guess my perfect little idea has been shot to hell. Anyway… I wasn't going to post this but my friend urged to me too (threatened actually) so here it is. Constructive criticism would be nice as well as whether or not I should continue it… I definitely need some feed back for this so pretty please… I'm on my knees here. Also I would like know if I get any of the biblical stuff wrong since its been years since I've read a bible, which was a kiddy bible so any input would be awesome. Don't worry I'm intending to buy a Bible for Dummies. SPOILERS AHEAD! Anyway… who else cried like a little bitch at the end of "Hell's Angels" because I know I did… I found Alistair to be wickedly delicious… and his little weird accent/lisp was so cute… heh. Castiel was perfect as usual… and I am now fully convinced that there's a little undertone of Castiel/Dean with all those long looks, Uriel's comment, and the look on Castiel's face when Dean and Anna were kissing… either that or Castiel wants to rip out his Grace and be human. Hmm… Anyway… Pamela Barnes was just awesome (I totally love her and want more of her… just like Missouri but crazier) but I totally called Anna being an angel and Dean's time in hell (for the most part) as well as their plan. I kind of hate Kripke for making me like the new Ruby… I totally hated her until the past two episodes. Now I just kind of hate her. A little. Anyway… I'm off to the Sunshine State in a couple of days (yay warmth!) So I guess I'll post more when I get back and there will probably be some more Castiel crack fics to come… I have lots of ideas in this noggin.