A day passed before there was any sort of change in Castiel.  By this time, the world’s weird weather patterns had returned to normal, leaving behind debris to clean up.  There would be a strain on some countries already stretched resources, but it was all humanly manageable.  Wen didn’t object when Sam and Dean dropped by the garage and ‘demon’ ( Read more... )

( The Apocalypse that Wasn't )

( The Righteous Man - The Boy with Demonblood )

( The Rapture of Jimmy Novak )

( The Book of Castiel )

( The Prophet and Righteous Man... )

The following morning the brothers returned to Wen’s cabin. Dean stood beside Sam, helping him stand upright. In front of him stood Cas, the table placed between them. The scent of Abramelin Oil filled the air. Cas took Sam’s hand and gave Dean a cup asking him to help Sam drink it. Dean raised an eyebrow and Cas just held his gaze until he took ( Read more... )

Dean and Sam arrived early the next morning. Cas was awake and drinking coffee outside. Wen was asleep. Cas said she’d had a restless night. They bought the table and chairs outside and Cas grabbed two more mugs and the coffee pot. There fell an awkward and uncomfortable silence over the three men until Cas spoke.

“Sam, Dean, for what I did. I ( Read more... )

“‘Whatta ja lined up next, ‘Castiel lives’. Me and my big mouth,” Dean thought to himself as he listened again to Wen’s voice mail.

“Dean Winchester? It’s Wednesday Smith. I have a message from Castiel. It’s about Sam. Castiel says he can help. Or rather I dreamt he can help… turns out my dreams are prophetic. Who knew? So, anyway call me at the ( Read more... )

“NO!” She woke up shouting. Castiel was seated at the table, reviewing his translations of Wen’s tattoos. He looked at her. She looked at him. There was horror, pity and admiration upon her face. Castiel acknowledged the unspoken question with a nod.

“No…no…no, no, no…they’re all just dreams, nightmares. I’m not a Prophet. I refuse to believe I’m a ( Read more... )