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As she fell, she waited for the inevitable collision with the bottom. Only, according to her watch, she had already been falling for about twenty-two minutes. Just how high was that cliff? Maybe she was dead. That would explain why everything went pitch black after she had tripped off the edge. Of all the ways to die.
If she was dead, this went against everything she had ever learned about the afterlife. She was sure that when it happened, she would go straight to wherever she was going. When she was younger, she believed it would be heaven. Over the past few years though, she had become less sure. She glanced at her wrist. Thirty-one minutes. Maybe this was all that happened. A never-ending plummet to nowhere. Oblivion . Thank god for cheap glow-in-the-dark watches. Because obviously she needed to know what time it was in the afterlife. Great positive thinking there, D. Even if she was dead, she needed to keep her hopes up that she wasn’t stuck like this.
You’re not dead. Dean whipped her head around. She didn’t see anything in the dim glow from her wrist, but she knew that voice was not her own. She turned her wrist toward her and sighed. It had been forty minutes. Maybe she should attempt to do something about the situation. There was no way she had made that voice up, so something was out there. That thought didn’t reassure her. She sighed again and decided it was now or never.
"Hello? Who’s there?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly out of nervousness. She waited a few minutes, but the voice didn’t respond. She rolled her eyes. You’re losing it, D.
Somewhere back (or up) on Warden’s Bluff, Sam had to be worried. They had argued the whole drive about how Sam had put their cat in a kennel rather than taking it to their mom’s house. Why she even agreed to buy a cat with her sister in the first place was beyond her. It’s not like they were ever home to properly take care of it, so it ended up in their mom’s care often. This was the first time that Sam had even suggested that they take it to a kennel. It’s not like Dean cared what happened to that scraggly thing, she just didn’t want to pay for the kennel when their mom already knew how to care for it. Not to mention the kennel workers probably won’t let it roam around like it’s used to. Yeah, she totally didn’t care about the cat.
Admitting your affection won’t make you weak. There it was again. Did it only know how to speak fortune-cookie?
"You going to let me in on what’s going on?" Only the continued rushing of wind answered her. "Obviously not," she mumbled.
This was supposed to be the most normal hiking trip they had taken since they started a few years ago. Dean had suggested their first trip a month or so after their dad died. They both needed to get out of the house and away from their mom. She was doing her best, but her best was only so much back then. Their first hike was to Warden’s Bluff. Sam had finally convinced Dean that they needed to go back, as a sort of anniversary trip. This weekend made five years since their dad died.
Dean was eighteen when her father passed. It wasn’t tragic or anything, at least not from her perspective. His liver was as deadbeat as he was. Alcohol will do that to you after twenty years. He always blamed D for the addiction, like she was the one who first made him take a sip. At her worst, Dean’s mother would back his stories. "He never drank before you were born," she’d always say after he had passed out for the night. But anything was better than him lashing out at Sam, so D took it. The more purple outlines of fingers there were on her own skin, the fewer times she would wake up to Sam screaming in the middle of the night. Dean hated how the nightmares had made Sam grow up so fast. But it was nice to not have to sleep alone on those nights.
Friday nights were always her favorite. Her dad would stay out late enough that they would be in bed before he came stumbling through the living room. She would make Sam dinner if their mom was taking the late shift (again), and the two of them would curl up on the seasoned leather couch in the living room, laughing at the newest episode of The Office . Sometimes their mom would come home with day-old donuts from the bakery down the street and laugh with them, the three pretending they wouldn’t wake up to a trail of broken glass and sloshed whiskey leading to the guest room.
Your family does not define you.
"Alright, that’s it," Dean called out. "Who are you?"
There was a pause, filled only with the rushing wind, before the voice replied, I do not think you would believe me.
"You seem to be the only other one around, so I’ll take what I can get." Even as she said it, she realized the voice was probably right. She didn’t believe in much. The voice must have been able to read minds, or she wasn’t as good a liar as she thought. Dean sighed. She sure had been doing a lot of that today. "How about you tell me what you are," she started, "and I’ll decide whether or not to believe it. You could at least give me the option." She could’ve sworn she felt the voice hesitate.
I’m an angel.
Dean snorted. "Well that just figures. So, you lied about me being dead? Angels do live in heaven, don’t they?"
The voice/angel sighed. That is my home, yes. I spend much of my time on Earth, watching over humans.
Dean frowned. She guessed that was a pretty logical explanation, not that any of this was logical. "So, why are you here right now?" If she wasn’t dead already, an angel being with her must mean she was at least about to die.
You needed my protection.
"Okay," she trailed off, waiting for a further explanation. She didn’t get one. "Why do I need your protection? Am I dying or something?"
You are in the process of being healed.
Being healed? What was that supposed to mean? She thought about it for a moment before asking. "Do you mean I’m in the hospital?"
I believe that would be your equivalent. This really wasn’t good then.
Dean’s mind went back to Sam. She was good at handling anything life threw at her. Even more than Dean if the situation called for it. Dean knew she was in good hands. But that was about all she knew. This so-called angel wasn’t exactly helpful speaking in one-liners. She couldn’t even see it, which made her wonder. "So why can’t I see you?" Dean questioned the angel. "Are you just in my head or something?"
You would not be able to handle my true form. This is an amiable way to communicate.
"How do you know I couldn’t take it? I’m tougher than I look."
Special people can perceive my true visage. I am not sure if you are one of them.
"Well, let’s find out if I am."
The voice hesitated. That is not wise.
"Look, I don’t feel real good about this whole situation anyway. It would be a lot easier if I could just see who I’m talking to." Dean waited for a reply, but none came. She looked at her watch. It had been almost two hours since she fell. She hadn’t noticed the wind in a while. The angel was doing a good job at keeping her distracted through all of this. She was worried about Sam. If she was in the hospital, then that meant Sam had to get Dean there by herself. Did she call 911? Or did she just drag me down the freaking mountain? She started to spiral again until the voice reappeared, startling her.
There is another way for you to see me.
"I’ll take it," Dean said, relieved the voice hadn’t completely left her. "Where were you anyway?"
I had to confirm a vessel. As you wish to see me.
"A vessel? What does that mean?"
There was a pause before a light started to form in front of Dean. Her eyes grew wide as the pillar of light took the form of a girl. She didn’t look much older than Dean. With more light than the dim glow from her watch, Dean took the chance to look around her to get a sense of her surroundings. There wasn’t really much to see other than the slate walls and an abyss of darkness above and below. She turned her attention back to the girl in front of her as pure white dwindled to velvet warmth. The girl blinked her eyes open and Dean was met with bright blue. Dean realized her jaw was hanging slack and tried to compose herself. "I have to admit; I wasn’t expecting a girl. Your voice was kind of misleading earlier."
"This is merely a vessel. I have no physical gender as you might understand." And whoa, that was not the voice Dean had gotten used to over the past few hours.
"Do you have a name?"
The angel drew her eyebrows in and frowned before seeming to decide. "You can call me Castiel."
"Fitting," Dean said with a laugh. "So, Castiel, are you going to fill me in on what’s happening? I get that I’m in the hospital or whatever, but if it’s bad enough to get an angel visit, I feel like I should know what’s going on."
"You fell off of a cliff."
"Yeah, thanks Sherlock. I kind of figured that out on my own."
Castiel squinted her eyes at Dean and tilted her head slightly. "I do not understand what else there is for me to tell you."
Dean sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. "Well, I don’t think Sam pushed me off, so what happened? I didn’t think I was that bad of a hiker."
The look on Castiel’s face told D that she wasn’t going to get an answer.
"Okay, just forget about that then. How come I’ve never met you before? I’ve been in plenty of dangerous situations before this."
"You have never come this close to death before," the angel said with a sad smile.
"So then why not just let me die?"
"Because it is not your time," Castiel said. Like it was an obvious answer.
Dean sighed (again—she really had to stop doing that). "Alright. Well, how long is it going to be before I wake up?"
"Not too much longer. But you must know, this is not a manifestation of your subconscious."
"Yeah, that’d be too easy." Dean thought for a moment before speaking again. "Will I see you again? I mean, I’ve never seen you before now, but does that mean you only come when I’m in real danger?"
"Now that I have acquired a vessel you may see me appear more often. You are one of the humans I was assigned to watch over."
That’s not creepy at all. "So, you’ve ‘watched over me’ for a while?"
"Since you were born, yes."
That was weirdly comforting. When Dean was really young, her mother would tell her that angels were watching over her. Guess she wasn’t too far off. When Dean looked back up at the angel, Castiel was staring right back, like she was waiting on Dean to say something.
"What?" Dean asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I said it is time."
"Time for what—oh. Like time to wake up?"
Castiel smirked, making Dean lift her eyebrows again. Who knew angels had a sense of humor?
"So, what do I need to do?"
"Just close your eyes. You’ll know when to open them again."
Dean looked into bright blue again before taking a breath and doing so. She felt a hand placed on her forehead, comforting warmth, and then nothing. Oblivion .
D. Wake up.
Dean blinked her eyes open to see Sam sitting beside her. "Sam," Dean croaked out. Sam’s glance flashed up at Dean and she was knocked back with a grunt as Sam hugged her.
"I thought I had lost you, you idiot." Sam refused Dean’s attempts to push her off.
Dean sighed and wrapped her arms around Sam.
Sam cleared her throat as she let go of Dean, backing off of her. She looked down and wiped the stray tears that had started to run. She looked back up at Dean. "I love you, D."
"I know," Dean said, grinning.
Sam let out a laugh and sniffled. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a bus."
Sam swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. "They thought you were going to die, you know. We all did."
"Well, I didn’t. You’re not getting rid of me that easily," Dean said, smiling. When Sam didn’t look up Dean squeezed her arm. "Hey." Sam looked up then. "You didn’t lose me. And you’re not going to if I have anything to do with it."
Sam hinted a smile. "Your doctor said you must have angels watching over you to survive that bad of a fall."
The past few hours came rushing back to Dean in a blur. Her eyes searched the room and came to a halt when they met with cosmic blue beaming at her from just past the doorway. Dean’s eyes lit up and her smile spread across her face. "You don’t know the half of it."