Hello, everyone! I need to start this story with a little explanation. I know that this is easily the weirdest story I've ever posted here. My friends and I constantly joke about what would have happened if Castiel had a female vessel, so I finally wrote it all down. I didn't ever intend on posting this, as the story was a bit of a joke, but I've grown to like it and I think you all might too! It's slow to start, but I've just got to set everything up! Please tell me what you think, even if you hate it.

I wouldn't call this slash, but here's a warning in case you interpret it that way!

And for the record, I don't own this stuff.

"Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones. I will try to fix you."

"Damn it, Cas! You are not dying like this!" Dean slammed his fist against the concrete floor as he pressed another towel to Castiel's chest.

The injured angel's breathing was slow and ragged. He winced as pressure was applied to his wounds.

Sam stood several feet away, holding a cell phone up to his ear. "Bobby, it doesn't look good." Bobby spoke for a moment. "No, he can't heal." Sam answered quickly. "The demons, they jumped him, stabbed him with something. His chest it's just… it's gone. No, no, I don't know what they got him with." Sam explained and fell silent, listening to the other man. He then hung up and hurried to help his brother.

"What did he say?" Dean asked, holding another rag to Castiel.

"Stop the bleeding, he didn't know." Sam answered.

"Well, that's really freakin' helpful!" Dean yelled at no one in particular.

Sam looked up in worry. "Dean," He said softly. "He's calling around. I don't know, maybe another hunter will know what to do." He offered.

Dean shook his head and stared at Castiel. "We don't have time for that. Damn it!" He yelled again, suddenly, throwing a bloody rag aside and replacing it.

Castiel's eyes fluttered closed. Dean fought to keep him awake. "Cas!" He shook the angel. There was no response. "Castiel!" He yelled, louder this time. The angel's eyes opened slowly.

Sam found himself looking sadly at his brother as Castiel coughed up blood. Dean chose to ignore this serious sign and continued trying to stop the blood that was still pouring from Castiel's chest.

"You are not dying." He said again desperately. "You hear me, Cas? I promise."

Castiel coughed again and another splatter of blood covered his face. Sam had stopped applying pressure to the angel's wounds. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"Dean…" He gently placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. Dean shrugged him off and continued trying to help Castiel.

The angel tried to speak, but couldn't form understandable words. He shifted away from Dean slightly, as if to tell him to stop. Castiel's body shuddered for a moment, before he closed his now dull eyes.

The room that had once been filled with the sounds of Castiel's forced breathing was now silent. Dean stared at the body in front of him in shock. For several moments they sat like this. Dean staring at Castiel's body. Sam staring at his brother in concern.

Dead.

Castiel was dead. It hit both the brothers like an unexpected punch straight to the gut. The angel had been a kind of rock through all of this. He had been unchanging, while everything around them had changed so drastically.

Dean jumped from the ground and walked quickly out the door of the large, empty warehouse. Sam remained alone for a moment before following his brother.

Dean was standing outside, his face turned to the sky and his eyes closed. "Dean…" Sam said, quietly. "Are you… I mean, do you want to talk about this?" He attempted.

"Nothing to talk about, Sammy." Dean muttered in reply. He raised his head to the sky again and for a brief instant, Sam was almost sure he heard a slight "Amen," from his brother, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, he pushed it away.

Dean turned, rubbed his face, and headed back into the warehouse. He slung Castiel's body over his shoulder before Sam knew what was happening. "Those demons will come back. We need to go." Dean explained

Sam felt obligated to help his brother carry the weight of the empty vessel, but he felt sure that Dean would just brush off his assistance, so Sam only held the door out of the warehouse open for his brother.

Outside, Dean gently laid the body in the backseat. His brown, leather jacket was spread on the seat. Sam couldn't decide if this was because he didn't want blood on the Impala, or if it was some kind of twisted sign of affection.

Once Sam was in the passenger's seat, Dean cranked up the music and drove away without a word. His hands were gripped so tightly on the steering wheel that they had the knuckles were turning white. He constantly glanced in the mirror at the back seat.

Back at the motel, Dean once again carried the body alone and into their room. He laid it on one of the two small beds. Sam had to bite his lip so not to protest. Someone was supposed to sleep on that bed.

When Dean took a seat on the opposite bed, Sam finally spoke up. "Listen, man. I don't want to sound harsh. I mean, I'm not trying to, but we need to… bury him"

Dean glared at Sam. "We'll figure it out, okay, Sammy?" He snapped and stood up. "I'm going out." He mumbled as he grabbed the car keys.

Sam stood motionless for a moment before lying back on the empty bed. It had been a long day. He tried desperately not to think about the body in the other bed, but sleep came easier than expected. As soon as he had closed his eyes, Sam Winchester fell asleep.

Several hours went by before Sam jumped up, awake. He had felt someone watching him and sure enough, a woman was standing over the bed. Sam leaped towards the gun propped in the corner of the room and aimed it at the visitor.

"Who are you?" He demanded, flipping his hair out of his face.

The woman caught his stare and seemed to sway on her feet. The blood rushed from her face and she instantly became very pale.

"Castiel." She said, just before falling unconscious.

Sam rushed to catch her, forgetting about the gun and the fact that he had no idea who or what this person was.

She was out cold and clearly no danger like this, so Sam put her gently on the empty bed. As Sam looked at both beds of the motel room, he resisted the ridiculous urge to laugh.

This day couldn't get much weirder.