There was a distant sound of wings rustling as the popcorn room began to shift. A pale, pretty young woman appeared, dressed in a black tank top, jeans and wearing a simple silver ankh around her neck. She looked down to see that she was completely covered in butter. Dragging a finger down a pale arm she shook her head with a slightly amused, if
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"We've met?" Cas looked her up and down, trying and failing to place her, though he had a very strong nagging suspicion he really should know who this was. "I'm afraid I don't remember. But a lot has happened in the past several months." For the angel, accustomed to operating on a scale of centuries, it had felt like it was all happening very, very quickly, leaving him little opportunity to catch his breath (metaphorically speaking.)
Her greeting to Jimmy threw him that much further off-balance. "I doubt Jimmy can..." and he trailed off, realizing even as he spoke that it wasn't safe to assume the man couldn't hear, if she wanted him to.
"Who are you?" he concluded rather lamely, stuck for anything more intelligent to say. More often than not, when he'd encountered something that overpowered him by orders of magnitude, he'd been too busy trying to kill or not be killed to worry about making conversation...
It was with that thought that something finally clicked, and he paled visibly, eyed going suddenly wide.
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The poor angel and his vessel. She really did feel bad for them. They had died in battle twice, and she had been asked to escort them both back to the field each time. It was a rare occurance, and one she’d only done a handful of times. And she liked them. The angel was sweet, in a sort of naïve way, and the vessel was a lot stronger than he gave himself credit for.
She watched him put it all together and realization begin to dawn. “I was kinda hoping you’d remember, Castiel. We had a few nice little talks before I brought you back.”
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(If this wasn't the same entity, if there was yet another level of hierarchy among the Reapers, well, he'd never claimed to know everything there was to know about Creation.)
Hard on the heels of that revelation, though, the meaning of her words filtered through. "Back," he repeated, seizing on the word and all it implied. "Please, back from where?" Though the where was really less important than the insinuation that he hadn't simply ceased to exist and been recreated on a whim, after all.
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Reaching out, she touched the side of his face gently. "I brought you back from where you were supposed to go after you died. It was nice."
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"So there's a reason," he said huskily, swallowing hard. "We're not just being toyed with. Someday it will all make sense?"
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"There's always a reason, Castiel. You and your friends aren't the butt of some great cosmic joke, I promise. I can't tell you much more than that. But it'll be okay. It really will," she assured.
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"You're covered in butter," he added rather obviously, trying to collect himself. "Do you know which House you're supposed to be in? There are towels, and showers and...things." People who arrived in this greasy fashion had been sorted previously, if he understood correctly.
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Looking down at herself she shook her head. "Weird. I swear, sometimes things surprise even me. Nope. I don't quite remember, but I suppose we can figure it out, right? And there are hot showers? I haven't had one of those in years! I hope they're as cool as I remember."
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"You're in Hufflepuff," he said, looking back into the room. "I'm not well-acquainted with anyone from that House, but we can ask the house elves."
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After getting direction from a house elf, she smiled at the angel. It was nice to see a familiar face. "Walk with me?"
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Death tucked a greasy curl behind her ear, a very human gesture. "The basics are tricky to navigate the first few times around. But then you can get to the really fun stuff."
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"But you wanna know what I really like? The ones that try. The ones who want to show you stuff. They don't get all freaked out that you're not one of them. Sounds like you got lucky."
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