Hello? Hey there faithful little reader! I'm sure at this point your little human brain might start to wonder, 'hey somewhat-all-knowing-narrator, why are you addressing me in first person now?' Well Chuckles, it's because the old narrator has been replaced; say hello to the splendid, the magnificent, the drop-dead stunningly handsome Trickster himself...GABRIEL!

I shall wait for your undoubtedly enthusiastic applause before continuing.

Fine. Your precious narrator is safe—I would never be so predictable as to simply get rid of her, no-siree. I just wanted to tell the story for a bit, as I am basically the star of this next chapter. Now I know what you're thinking: "But Gabe, you've only been in one scene in this story, and we want more Destiel!" (Don't lie to yourselves; Destiel is exactly why you are reading this.)

Well then. I promise you I will tell this story as accurately as I can, thus providing a satisfying beginning, middle, and end. Hey, it's more than she was going to write. What kind of prophet owns six cats anyways... well, if you're not counting Luke.

So. To begin...

Picture it; a clouded sky, bleak grey atmosphere all around, and a layer of mist that wet the ground and reeked of fish. The Impala drove a bit too fast into the murky area, and there was not a person in sight save some creepy children playing in their front yard; so basically it looked like every other creepy case the Winchester bros had handled.

The Impala was headed straight for the witches' supply shop; my little bro Castiel worrying about his wifey's speeding as Dean bitched about Sam not filling up the gas in the beloved impala. Same old stuff.

After an excruciatingly long car ride filled with meaningful glances and shared worries about their pet moose, they reached the store. Dean of course was out first; frisky little guy. Cas was close behind, feeling better than before but still wearing Dean's dorky leather coat over the old trench. They went right to the shop door. I of course waited behind because I knew what they'd find.

A torn page from a notepad which read: If you want your brother alive, warehouse by noon.

Dean was worried, Cas did his creepy-ass squinty-eye thing, yada yada yada back to me.

Impalas do not agree with me; not the worst looking car, but they smell and all the black leather clashes with my fair yet flawless complexion. My standards are a tad higher from the Winchester boys; blame it on my time spent at cloud nine.

So I took it upon myself to check out the old warehouse by the woods, which is an incredibly vague statement as the entirety of this suffocatingly small town is located by the woods but deal with it, I'm writing this thing now.

Normally I'm not big on doing other people's dirty work even if it is for the Winchesters, but I was sent for a reason, and this seemed like a pretty big hint at why.

The whole atmosphere felt wrong; the watery mist that had affected the whole town had no impact here. The factory was dry as a bone and there wasn't a car in sight. Tall windows were all covered over with what looked like plastic sheeting, and nothing moved in, or outside of the brick walls. That's when I saw the Circle.

Still being an angel or whatever has its perks, and the gigantic double ring glowed green through the grass. It crossed through the parking lot and grassy border to encircle the complex and most of the parking area. Not like any devil's trap I could remember. Sam wasn't here. I could feel it. And I'd seen that trap before, years ago. It was developed in the Midwest by a group of witches and demons to trap fallen angels who would then be used for spells and stuff. You get the picture.

The Winchesters could prove useful for witches or demons of any sort, but luring the boys now meant luring Castiel; three for the price of one.

I turned, wind billowing through my luxurious hair, and as I eyed the distance thoughtfully, I—

Ahem. I am being informed by a pesky little prophet that I'm getting a bit off track. But I'm sure you get the picture. I'm really quite striking.

A black van reeled into the parking lot; two demons and two witches stepping out of it when it stopped in front of the building's windowless double doors. A whole lot of sketchy. The witches were clearly the women with awkwardly long dreads and jewelry from head to toe. Seriously though, they were so textbook witchy they gave other witches a bad name. I should know; I dated a witch before. Natalia; feisty little thing. Too bad about her pyromania thing though...

The other two, one man and a woman, were demons and clearly leading the pack. Dark hair and tan skin, maybe even siblings. They all exchanged a few words before the two witches took the keys and prepared to drive off. Now, I couldn't hear much of what they were saying; partly because I wasn't in full angel mode and partly because I find it hard to care about things not focused on me. I can't tell you how humiliating it is to go so long being invisible. It's like being a geeky high school student without the plastic-surgery-induced happy ending.

But I heard enough to know that Sam was in the backseat of that van and that Dean and Cassy were headed right for the ex-angel trap. So, being the hero that I am, I did nothing.