Fic: Rings of Enchantment (Prologue)
Prologue
Sam Winchester surreptitiously glances through the one-way glass into the library’s Special Collections storage room again. He’s glad no one thought to make the one-way coating witchcraft-proof, but probably no one thought anyone would be desperate enough to try.
“There,” says Castiel, pretending not to look. He doesn’t quite succeed. Fortunately, no one can tell through the charmed shades. Castiel is a quirky detective from the Grigori, rather awkward and oddly attractive, but like any angel, had tried to smite him on sight for being an unsanctioned witch. Or a murder suspect. Sam’s not quite sure which. “Why is she here?”
The blonde they are tailing (Bela, a gorgeous British exchange student) silently closes the door behind her and starts looking through the books, moving quickly and purposefully from one shelf to the next.
“I wonder what she’s looking for,” Sam muses, then turns to Castiel. “C’mon, laugh at something I said.”
Castiel furrows his brow in confusion. “But you haven’t said anything funny. Why would I laugh?”
Sam doesn’t have to fake his chuckle. “So we look like we’re actually having a private conversation instead of pretending not to spy.” He doubles over a bit like he’s laughing harder and adds in a mutter, “Someone inside is looking this way.” Next to the room is the librarians’ offices, and a few of the staff are gazing out the window.
“Oh.” The angel laughs a little. It’s almost painful to watch, and Sam nearly forgets all about Bela. “Wait, someone’s coming.”
For a moment, Sam thinks Castiel means Bela is about to get caught, but as he looks up into the library, he catches blue eyes darting around the corner, the sound of footsteps trampling the fresh grass as they approach. No one inside the library can hear them, of course, but now they really need a good reason to be loitering in this deserted corner by the forest right outside the Special Collections room. Given the events thus far, they can’t afford to be under suspicion. Anyone could be involved, and there’s no telling which one of them would be willing to kill.
“Kiss me,” he whispers as it occurs to him precisely the sort of private conversation they need to be having in a place like this.
“What?” Blue eyes widen. “Why?”
The footsteps are almost on them - there’s no time to explain. So he just leans down and presses his lips to the angel’s, pulling the other close.
Oh.
Maybe that’s the other reason for the tension. Angels smell different -clean, a hint of ozone that overwhelms the nose when it hits- so he couldn’t tell earlier, but there’s no mistaking the taste of an Omega. He hadn’t even known angels had such traits, and he doesn’t know if it has anything to do with Angelic Grace, but Castiel tastes exquisite.
He can’t resist the Alpha instinct to deepen the kiss and grip the other a little tighter, to press him gently to the glass with a knee between his thighs, and Castiel makes a sound at once of protest and desire, but opens up to him willingly, reaches up to cup his cheek and tangle a hand in his hair.
Fuck, but he wants. And from the reaction, it seems Castiel does too.
He lets his hand slip lower, shifts his knee a little higher, and the angel tugs him closer, almost desperately-
“Get a room, boys.”
The familiar drawl has them darting back, away from each other in a rush, skin flushed and breathless.
It’s Vice President Crowley, though President Hazel’s untimely demise probably means the word “vice” in the title now more aptly describes all the business he’s rumored to do on the side.
“You do realize that glass is one-way and everyone inside can see you?” He shrugs, adjusting his long black coat a safe distance away. “See, I don’t care, but the last thing I need is another scandal to deal with, savvy?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Sam nods hurriedly, glancing past Castiel into the library just in time to see Bela leaving Special Collections, empty-handed as far as he can tell. “C-c’mon.” He hopes Crowley doesn’t suspect them - he’s quite sure that was the Vice President he saw with Brady earlier, and it’s clear Brady is involved with the case somehow.
He leads Castiel away with an arm around the waist, and the detective allows it, trudges along beside him willingly enough despite his obvious discomfiture. It’s hard to think of anything except continuing where they left off, but as soon as they are far out of earshot and alone again, the angel abruptly stops and shoves him away.
“Why did you do that?” Castiel demands in quiet anger. His lips are a little red, and he’s still short of breath, though whether from earlier or his present fury, it is unclear.
“I’m sorry!” Sam says, taking two big steps back to where he can no longer smell the other’s intoxicating scent, and he really is. He’d never intended to offend the angel. He’s still technically at the Grigori’s mercy, and the other has thus far kindly given him the benefit of doubt. “It was the least suspicious thing to be doing by that window,” he explains, holding both hands up in supplication.
“I could have flown us out of there,” Castiel points out testily.
So he could, “But then everyone would know you’re Grigori. Plus, we would have missed what Bela was doing inside.”
“Were you paying any attention to what she was doing?”
“Well, um… She left empty-handed,” he offers weakly.
The detective seems to think for a moment, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back. He’s wet - Sam could smell the sweet slick earlier, and he takes another step back, fearing he’ll be untoward if he doesn’t keep his distance. It’s a purely biological reaction, he tells himself, willing his erection away. Castiel would probably rather pretend it never happened too, given where things stand between them.
“We need more information,” the other decides at last, turning to go. “There are too many possibilities.”
“Wait!” He clamps a hand over his mouth, realizing the volume and impropriety of his sudden outburst.
A brilliant blue glare focuses on him. “Yes?”
“You can’t- I mean… Uh… I-it’s not a good idea to go anywhere alone like that,” he finishes lamely. Castiel is on the verge of snapping, so he hopes it didn’t come across overly presumptuous.
The angel tilts his head and blinks owlishly, clearly uncomprehending.
“I-I um…” Oh God, get yourself together, Sam. Surely you can string two sentences together without embarrassing yourself. “I can uh… smell you. And if I can, then others can too. Some Alphas aren’t very err… polite.” And the thought makes him grimace, like a sick twist to the gut.
Castiel smiles thinly. “I can take care of myself, Sam Winchester.”
He blushes. Definitely presumptuous. “O-of course. I just- I mean-”
“-AAIEEEK!!!”
They exchange glances.
The loud shriek seems to have come from the other side of the library.
Castiel nods, and they rush there. It’s easy to find the source - there are people running about in a panic, and some are standing in a loose circle around something, staring and taking pictures with their phones. With the detective close behind, Sam presses through the crowd for a look and silences a gasp of horror.
It’s Bela.
Dead by a bullet to the head.
Navigation:
Prologue
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Epilogue