A Bond Must be Protected
"Don't look back."
Sam's voice is a comfort in your ear, guiding you through the dark tower and telling you when and where to hide.
It was your first hunt alone, despite Dean being so completely against it because "She could get herself killed Sam and dammit, I'm not gonna let that happen!"
But you were a big girl and it had been your idea to prove yourself to both brothers that you weren't a burden, you were valuable in your own right and being a girl in this God forsaken world would not stop you from keeping yourself alive.
You kept running, inscribed knife in one hand and a pistol in the other with salt/holy water/iron infused bullets, a design of your own making.
You could hear the spirit behind you, could feel it so close at hand, so you finally turned and fired off a shot, catching the monster off guard as the bullet pierced it's eye.
It shrieked, your focus going fuzzy from the pain filled noise before you turned to dash for the broken door.
There was salt just outside the door to keep the ghost inside the house parameters.
It reached out to try and grab for you, but you dodged it's grasp and jumped outside.
"Now!" You screeched, ducking your head down and covering your eyes as the tower imploded.
Sam and Dean had set them up before you went into the tower and needed you to lead the ghost to its death spot to permanently kill it.
There was a howling in the air, so fierce as the ghost gave a final scream before being swallowed by the fire, it's bones surely being destroyed somewhere within.
"I guess we shouldn't have doubted you."
Dean would later say, a best placed compliment in his case.
He crossed his arms and looked away, both he and Sam squeezed into one booth across from you as you took part in their fat food unwinding.
Sam gently nudged Dean's arm and rolled his eyes with a smile splaying across his face.
"We both think you handled yourself well and if you want- there's always room for you. You can come with us or do your own thing.
But (Y/N), you'll always have a place at the bunker, alright? Our lives aren't the best ("No kidding", Dean muttered under his breath), but we'd always do our best to protect you."
Sam smiled and you know it's real.
They're both sitting across from you and saying things you'd never heard before.
You'd never been accepted by any person in your life.
Not your mother or father who both felt you were wasting your life at college, or your long term boyfriend who hated your intelligence and wit and innocence.
It wasn't until the vampire attack that changed him that you realized there was so much going on behind everyone's eyes and people would wind up dead if you didn't do anything about it.
Demons, angels, ghosts and gouls, genies and fairies, vampires, wolves?
They were all real and fed off of humans in some way.
It wasn't until after the Devil's gate opened that you also realized soul marks were being taken advantage of.
Demons would use human vessels whose soul marks were people they wanted and would threaten to kill the host if their orders weren't followed.
That had to be the final straw that pissed you off and made you into this she devil with a wicked shot.
You valued soul marks to the fullest, cherished the people that had them, helped get loved ones and soul mates back to each other, and well, you ignored your own.
Strange, yes, but necessary.
It's not like you even understood the text drawn diagonally down the right side of your back.
Even Sam and Dean, who's own soul marks were hard stories to swallow, put their all into figuring it out, but the closest they got to it was the language Enochian-
the language of the Angels.
Sometimes it tingled in the middle of the night or would burn when you were in danger.
You'd told yourself that maybe your soul mate had died already and they were simply watching over you.
It helped you feel something inside in the middle of the night besides cold and bitter.
"I'd follow you guys anywhere, Sammy, you know that."
You couldn't help your smile, still innocent after all your pain, all your loss, all the blood on your dainty hands.
But you were being honest.
Dean and Sam were the older brothers you'd never had the chance to have because your father forced your mother to get an abortion the first time she became pregnant and then had her illegally sterilized after you were born.
Of course, no one believed her because they were married.
Sam and Dean took the weight off.
They taught you how to fight, trust your gut, and how to aim.
It was all you needed now.
“Alright, enough with this gag fest. I feel like we’re a disgusting family sitcom,” Dean hissed between clenched teeth, picking up his untouched bacon burger and taking a massive bite.
You couldn’t stifle your laughter at that; same ‘ol Dean.
You wished that life would only give you moments like this to look forward to, but with the whiff of Lucifer on the rise, you knew that would not be likely.
.x.
And that’s how you found yourself, bullet wounds oozing from sustaining too many shots in the dark, crumpled up in the corner of an alleyway behind piles of garbage to help smother your scent.
Somehow, a djinn and werewolf were working together to gather something for one of the four horsemen who were apparently back in town and hiding out.
Death was not in the plot, you could tell that he didn’t care for this since your last meeting with him when you had 24 hours to save your own soul from being taken.
You breathed in deeply, the sound a wet sucking noise as blood gurgled in your throat.
There was yelling far off, it sounds like Sam’s high yelp of reason mixed with Dean’s deep growls of aggression and command.
You croon quietly to yourself, fingers pressing over two bullet wounds close to one another in your abdomen.
It hurts and the sky is sideways in your mind and everything is speckled grey and red and black and- pain.
The bullets had come from someone else.
You weren’t fast enough to get out of the way and Dean and Sam were too far away to be of any use.
You tripped and tumbled your way here as fast as you could, your blood drenching your shirt and trickling down to bleed into your jeans.
The only thing that hurts more than this is not knowing who he or she is.
God, why does it have to end this way?
“Leave her alone, Joshua, she didn’t do anything.”
Your mother quickly tried to croon your father away from you, his arm raised and ready to lay another hit to your face.
She had sent out a sweet feelings, but your parents bond was too damaged for it to be of much use.
Your father pressed a slap against your cheek and a punch to your nose, leaving it bloody and bruised up like your insides.
And then- the darkness had overcome you.
When you came back, your mother was gone and your father sat at the dinner table, staring at your lying figure on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you, muttering “useless” under his breath.
The memory punched at your battered mind, causing a low, blood curdling whine to echo in the alley.
“Please,” you began to pray because maybe whoever they are can hear you.
Maybe your bonded can hear this now and know that your last wish is to know their name.
“Pleasepleaseplease… I don’t want to-”
you choked on a whisper, lids too heavy to keep your eyes open,
“I just want.. to know your.. Name.”
The words were low and warbled together in a jumble of sensation; it felt like your heart was about to implode.
“C-Can you keep Dean and Sam safe?
Please?
F-For me?
I know that.. They are idiots.. They are such big idiots, but I l-love them so much and-” You coughed wetly, more blood landing on your shirt from the position you lay in.
“I bet y-you were beautiful.. I bet e-everyone would love you..”
It became to hard to think, but your thoughts were still clear.
“I would’ve loved to meet you, soul mate, I would’ve done everything to take care of you… just- God?
If you’re there… can you tell my mother I’m sorry?”
The fight had left you broken in too many places with blood spilling from your mouth from the slap across your face.
The college was close, you could drive and be home with no need to move away and you would still work like your parents wanted you to because it was money your parents needed since Joshua was laid off and your mother wasn’t paid enough for her job.
But they had refused to let you go.
Your mother had called you a soulless slut with a devil’s mark on your back and your father had told you to go to school, become smart, it would amount to nothing.
What did you do?
You yelled at your father for every hit you and your mother took and then you turned on you mother and said some of the worst things that you would come to regret, especially now when it seems as if your luck had run out.
You took in a few more breaths as the night grew cold, more screams of Sam and Dean in the distance.
You’re too far gone to know what they’re saying now, but your brain plays on tricks on you and makes you believe that it’s your name.
Maybe they’ll come across your body here among the grime and blood.
And maybe you’ll get buried in that little alcove you lived by as a child.
“(Y/N)....”
What?
You can’t open your eyes, but the voice calling your name is so loud.
Your eyes snap open, blood pumping through your veins quickly as a touch against your abdomen makes the pain grow dull before numbing away completely as if bullets had never touched your pale skin.
You blinked rapidly and tried to sit up, only to be pushed down gently.
“Do not move. I still have to heal the rest of you.”
A deep voice, low and smooth, spoke to you as a hand brushed over shoulder and you k
eep still, unsure of why you feel so calm and relax in the presence of this man.
You raise your head up, a tan trench coat coming into view before your staring into the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen before.
Dean’s are green, reminding you of home and grass filled plains, but these eyes are home.
They’re deep and intense and your back is burning the longer he touches you and oh.
Oh, okay. I can totally work with this.
“ I didn't know about you for centuries... and then my orders were to keep watch.
Never physically interfere, no matter how much danger you were put in.
Even if your name is somehow on my skin.
Angels and humans create destruction but-”
He sounds controlled, rigid, but the longer he talks, his voice begins to weaken as his eyes flash with a light that brings you back from the precipice,
“As your soulmate, it’s my duty to protect you.. Even if I cannot touch. I can't bear to let you die.” I love you.
The concept is foreign to him, the words are on his tongue but he manages to bite them back.
The human emotions are new and odd and twisted but with the look in your eyes, his instincts tell him that this is the right thing to do.
He moves back and you’re lunging for him before he can do much else, terror flooding your system that he might be leaving you again as you realize your wounds are gone save for the blood still on your clothes.
You grapple onto his stiff shoulders and he lets you, burrowing your face close to breathe him in.
There isn’t much of a scent there, but you don’t linger on it, too choked up to express what this means to you.
Your brain starts to work as you replay what he’s saying, 'angels and humans create destruction'.
The message inscribed on your back was written in Enochian.
Ah, your soulmate happens to be an angel.
A fabled kind, the three of you had never thought you would ever meet one before or even that they existed.
“What’s your name? I need to know.”
You mean it.
You really do need to know.
You don’t want to spend another minute of this borrowed time not knowing.
Castiel turns in your arms and slowly, awkwardly curls his arms around, clearing his throat and murmuring.
“Castiel.”
You only hold onto him tighter, the love in your chest finally being able to unleash itself.
You can feel your bond with him now that he's touching you, your mark burning warmly as you feel him react to your emotions flooding his system.
His brows furrow as he slowly pressed his hands to your back to keep you still and close.
You can feel his confusion, wonder, and how all of this is still too new.
But you wouldn't mind being able to teach him, to prove to him that you could be the best soul mate he could want.
You feel his resolve that he can't go back to what he knows, that his father God had given him to you for a reason and he was going to stay, still guarded, let allowing himself to pull you closer, Dean and Sam's foot steps nearby.
Castiel.
A name fit for your angel.