What Can We Say, We're Classy Girls

The soft pitter-patter of rain tapped on the window, drowning out the sound of Aoife's soft breathing. This was the first night she had truly slept in at least a week. The soft drizzle even made Castiel a little drowsy, but he couldn't allow his guard to drop. All night long, he waited for any sign of action from his brethren. There was no doubt in his mind that some of his family still debated taking her life.
He remembered every argument, that he was present for, clearly. Some would press that her powers of projection posed a threat. Others would smother that by claiming that she was only a child, that she would learn control if only given time. Some suggested they give her a warning, like they had Sam Winchester. That would only make some of his brothers scoff and mutter about how little of a difference it was making for him.
Castiel even tried to plead for the girl—while sounding as unbiased as possible. He tried to tell his family in heaven that the creature was only a nightmare from her childhood. They contained it. They eliminated it, wiped it from existence. It was no longer a threat. She was not, and would never be, a threat. The legion of demons that rallied behind it dissipated, so any and all danger from this unnatural creature was gone.
Castiel's gaze drifted to the petite woman as she shifted her sleeping position. The gash on her forehead must have been reopened as well, telling him that she must have overexerted herself when he was absent.

"I don't understand your fascination with these monkeys." A deep voice grumbled beside him. Castiel's eyes caught the cold orbs of his fellow angel Uriel, "Even the females of this pathetic race are hideous–"
"Don't speak of them in such a way." The dark haired angel scorned, "They are our father's creations; they are just as beautiful as you or I." He couldn't help the defensiveness as the dark-skinned angel's lip curled when his eyes cast over the mahogany haired woman.
"They're savages. That's all they are, and that's all they'll be." He sneered. "Is that the one that's sparked such a debate?" He motioned to Aoife's still sleeping form.
"Yes.'
"No need to be so short with me; it was a simple question," He said, "She looks weak. I could kill her now..."
A dangerously protective urge rolled through him, "Nothing has been decided yet-"
"I was stating a fact." Uriel muttered tersely, "Pick a team, Castiel." With a flutter of wings, he was gone.
What on earth would ever fill him with the need to speak to a member of his garrison with such aggression...? The overwhelming urge to protect the woman on the couch had filled him with an oddly foreign emotion. This emotion felt as natural as breathing, but it still felt off for an angel of the lord.

When Aoife rolled over, a sharp ache made her groan. Any move, ever breath radiated dull pain through her. These must be the consequences of using the level of magic that they were forced to use. Despite the aching of her arms, she pushed herself into an upright position.
Instant peace washed over her. For the first time in almost a week and a half, she had slept the entire night. She didn't feel an axe looming above her head, readying itself for attack. A warmth radiated from beside he. As she peered over, she caught her angel's intense stare.
"Good morning?" She muttered sheepishly.
"Yes." Castiel muttered, not breaking his gaze.
"Is everyone still asleep?" She murmured.
"Yes." She nodded as her stomach did somersaults.
"It's peaceful." She said conversationally—though, outside it was pouring buckets of rain.
"Yes it is." He lied.
Aoife felt a tingle rise to her cheeks, "Are you alright, Cas?"
Castiel blinked once, his intense gaze drifting to the stairs as Dean clambered down them. Aoife glanced beside her as Dean plopped down onto the cushion next to hers.
"Morning." Aoife muttered.
"What—oh, morning short stuff." He shot her a soft smirk.
"Can it, pretty boy." She rolled her eyes, "How's Riley?"
"Sleeping." He sighed.
"Good," She said, running her aching hands through her slightly tangled locks, "God knows she needs to..."
She could feel Castiel's eyes on her face, "Looks like a lazy day today." Dean said.
"Ha!" Aoife said, "Screw that, it's more like a lazy week."
A few hours later, almost everybody—with the obvious exception of Riley, Sydney, and maybe Sam—was awake. Cas had disappeared when Gramma began cleaning the wreckage that the creature had left behind
Aoife shifted again, groaning as Gramma swept the kitchen across the hall, "Aoife, sweetheart," Gramma set the broom and dustpan down and poked her head into the living room, "Why don't you take some ibuprofen...?" She suggested delicately.
"No." She groaned.
Dean smirked down the couch at her, "Aww, is the Queen of the Lollipop Guild scared of a little pill?"
"I hate taking pills. Always have-" Aoife muttered.
"You can barely move, right?" Dean said.
"Yeah, so..." Aoife sighed.
"Then grow a pair and take a damn pill." He said bluntly.
"Dean," She pursed her lips, ignoring the tinge across her cheek.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up." She muttered. Gramma rolled her eyes and continued to clean. She bustled around for several hours; dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, and all that jazz.
Most of the day, Aoife lounged on the couch, her legs draped across the cushion next to her. She couldn't help but let her mind wander. They were finally rid of the creature. It was gone, never to plague her or the ones she loved again. Was the price really worth it though? Riley had at least four broken ribs. Her body was so physically exhausted that she was nearly falling apart. What's worse, the physical wounds were superficial compared to what really mattered. When Aoife was better, she could fix the physical. No problem...but her soul...
Her soul was worn and tattered. This was going to take at least a week of therapy to mend. Maybe longer...That thing messed her up very badly. It reopened old, long buried wounds. And Aoife saw all of it. She was sure that some of the damage was irreversible.
Even Aoife didn't come out of it unscathed. She was sure that the only reason she didn't see her brother's face behind her eyelids last night was because her mind and body were too tired.
It was too soon to have visited her brother in Willow Mount. Then, when her brother's face was stolen...It shouldn't have stricken her so hard. That beast of nightmares could pick out the demons in her mind and manifest in that form. It took the design of her nightmares...Made from her deepest fears...The death of everyone she loved...Even the elimination of that maniac reinforced it. Everyone that loved her was doomed, and heaven forbid she love them.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't realized that Dean had left the room and a familiar, homely warmth radiated into her side. Then a gruff voice sucked her into reality, "What are you thinking?"
Aoife would have jumped if she hadn't been so dazed. She glanced into the soft azure eyes that were intent on her face, "I'm just...thinking."
"You shouldn't be content to believe that any of this is your fault." He said.
"If you accidentally created a creature that tried to kill everyone you loved, wouldn't you think it was your fault?" Sadness touched her chocolate orbs.
Cas paused as if to consider his response, "I would, yes."
"Exactly," She murmured.
"You were young-"
"My momma always said, 'It may be a reason, but that doesn't make it an excuse'." She said grimly

The sadness that touched her eyes softened his disposition, "You're mother was a wise woman, but the dream demon had its own sense of free will. Its actions reflect nothing bad upon you."
The mahogany haired beauty paused as if it consider his words, the sad look refusing to leave her chocolate orbs, "I dunno, maybe..." She muttered.
She needed to understand. If she condemned herself, then his brethren would surely execute her. His eyes held warnings as his soft blue orbs held hers seriously.
"Why are you so bent on taking the blame off of me?" She asked softly.
"I'm not fond of laying the blame on someone that doesn't deserve it." He said bluntly.
Something shifted in her eyes. The sadness that once consumed her repressed a surge of panic as her teeth found her bottom lip, "Have the angels...well...you know...?" She murmured quietly. He should have known she would ask that—whether out loud or implied.
"No. If they had made that decision, you would be dead." He hadn't lied, but part of him hoped that she would assume that she was safe. If he blatantly told her, he was sure that Uriel would have his head on a spike.
The young woman stood, "I'm going to check on Riley."

Cas jumped to his feet gracefully after her, "I'll accompany you." Aoife nodded, too preoccupied to care. Though, a slight wave of relief settled around her. His heavenly warmth gave her the strength to move.
She slowly made her way up the stairs. Pressure began to build in her head from the movement of her sore body. Her legs ached with strain and stiffness. Damn her body...Her power was too exhausted to heal herself—like she ever would anyway. Too drained to do anything but possible numb Riley's pain for another night.
She felt like an automaton or a puppet. Like it wasn't even her own will moving her. But, she kept going.
She passed Sam as she ambled down the short hallway toward Riley's bedroom, "Late night?" Aoife whispered, taking in his slightly messy hair. He nodded groggily, stumbling down the steps—still more gracefully that Aoife could have managed.
Aoife swallowed hard, gripped the knob. Hopefully she was still asleep...She gnawed on her lip as a warmth pressed into her back. She drew strength from that warmth, and after the few seconds it took to squelch her internal battle that began to rise, she pushed open the door.
Riley was sprawled across the bed, her hair draped around her face in the red glow of her curtains. A soft, relieved sigh radiated through her. Still sound asleep...And, as Aoife quietly walked forward, she would make sure she stayed that way. She placed a hand on her forehead and willed her magic to lengthen Sydney's sleeping spell.
By the time Aoife got down the stairs, Gramma was calling her name. She ambled toward the den, a room they rarely used for anything but storing Joe's weapons closet. She sat in a corner, surrounded by boxes. On closer inspection, the boxes were filled with VHS tapes, "Home Videos" written on the sides them.
"Aoife, darlin', could you hand me that box cutter?" She pointed across the room. Aoife's eyes followed and she handed the bright sunflower yellow box cutter to her sister's aunt.
"Gramma, what're you doing?" Aoife asked.
"Cleaning up while Riley's restin'." She sighed. The look in her eyes was almost as Sad as Joe's had been, but Aoife didn't comment.
That night, it was nearing midnight, and Aoife knew she wasn't going to sleep with her mind rampaging and her body aching. So, she did what she refused to do in any other circumstance, she took pain medication and sleep aids. It was too late to worry about the vivid dreams sure to come. They worked rather quickly, sending her into a dark oblivion.

Aoife sat in a vaguely familiar, sort of vintage living room. The vintage couch she sat on sent a pang through her chest. She had decorated this room with her mom on her fifth birthday, and nothing had changed since. The entire place had a familiar warmth that radiated all over, but she couldn't place it. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she glanced at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room. The floor changed from a warm wood to a antique tile, signaling the change to the dining room. Even from her seat in the living room, she knew what the clock read. It chimed twelve as a pair of wheels hit the driveway.
Aoife's eyes squeezed shut. She didn't want to be here. Not at noon. Never at noon.
The sound of a key turning the lock brought Aoife to her feet. It opened her eyes and made her face the thing she had forced from her mind after the cemetery. His dark brown eyes held a softness that showed sympathy.
"Hey, Ef." He hung up his keys and shut the door like it was still the daily routine. A smile pushed up his lips sadly, "You've gotten taller."
"Don't..." Her eyes stung.
"Ef-"
"Don't do this to me." She blinked away the stinging.
"Ef-"
"No. Stop it." She covered her ears.
"Aoife," She could feel him next to her, his hand on her shoulder, "You can't block me out of your dream." The stinging won, spilling down her cheeks. "You can't fight it. You took sleep aids. You won't wake up for a while, and that gives me all the time I need."
"Stop..."She groaned.
"This talk has been long overdue, baby sister." He muttered though her hands as if they weren't there.
"Why..." She whispered. Agony twisted a knife into her heart.
"You've got to stop." Oliver said gently.
"What...?" Her hands slowly slipped from her ears.
"This..." He said. His large hands pulled her hands farther down, "You're destroying yourself. You keep convincing yourself that all of this is your fault. It isn't!" Aoife recoiled, plopping back down on the cushion behind her. Her sobbed into her hands, her shoulder's shaking softly and her breath raw from the agony in her chest.
"None of this is your fault." He pressed again, "That thing was strong. Mom and Dad couldn't kill it, and they were two of the greatest." His hand was replaced on her shoulder, "But it's gone now...It can't hurt anyone now, and if you keep it up at this rate, it'll come back."
Aoife let out a poorly concealed sob. The cushion next to hers sunk in, "Aoife, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You weren't prepared for something like this. You didn't know...Hell, it was an accident; it wasn't supposed to exist. It wasn't your fault you were so young. so inexperienced..."
"Yes it is-"
"Aoife, don't you understand!? If you think you're guilty, they will too!" His voice was urgent. Like he was trying to convey a message he couldn't reveal directly.
Everything began to sink in. Aoife's tear soaked face lifted from her hands. Every bit of this conversation began to strike her as odd. He knew about...What...How...What exactly did he know!?

Aoife sat up so fast that a spasm of pain shot through her. She groaned and fell back, noticing that the warmth of her dream had dissipated. The sound of clinking dishes paused. Dean poked his head around the corner of the kitchen, "Hey! Short stuff's up! 'Bout time." He shot her his infamous smirk. He sure was chipper today...She stood up and stumbled toward the kitchen, her body stiff and sore but somewhat functional. She flipped him the bird and stuck it in his face.
"Is that a promise?" She ignored him and fumbled around near the coffee machine. She poured herself a cup, knowing she'd need a bit of pick-me-up.
"Why do people drink that crap?"
That voice made Aoife's head turn. Her white/blonde hair was in a messy ponytail, her skin was too pale, and her eyes supported dark rings, but she was awake and alive. Relief pounded in her chest, and from the dilation of her pupils, she could tell that she had recently taken pain medication.
Riley's lips lifted into a smirk, but it was wrong, "Damn, I know I'm sexy but you don't have to stare." Her voice sounded normal, but her eyes were too empty.
"I'm just trying to make sure you're not undead" Aoife shrugged, turning back to her coffee.
After a few attempts at walking into the living room—riddled with back and forth arguing, Riley gave up and let Dean carry her. Gramma had brought up a few of the boxes of home videos Aoife remembered seeing in the basement. Riley lounged on the couch, her legs draped over Aoife's lap.
"Ooh, what're those!?" Riley pointed dramatically.
"Home Videos, darlin'." Gramma smiled at her niece.
"Cool! Yo, Ef, I think we should torture cherry pie, moose and Angel boy with awkward childhood memories."
Aoife smiled at her soul sister, "They don't have names?"
"Nope." Riley grinned. Whatever Dean had gotten his hands on worked. She was as high as a kite.
When Riley was on strong pain meds, it was like all of her tough girl exterior had melted and she was a kid again. She would crack jokes and make cracks at everyone—convinced that Castiel was still there, though he had left quite a while ago. Aoife thought she was going to die laughing when poor Sammy walked into the room.
Riley gawked at him, her eyes alight with child-like wonder. Sam glanced around uncomfortably, "What...?"
"You're so tall..." She stared him down, "and you're hair is so luscious..." She held her arms out dramatically, "Embrace me, Sammeh!"
"Uh...Let's not," He muttered.

Riley practically tore through a box of tapes. She tossed a tape on Aoife's lap, "I don't remember this one. Put it in!"
Aoife rolled her eyes and popped in the tape. She grabbed the remote and took her spot under Riley's legs. A white date on a bright, almost cyan, blue background appeared on the screen. Aoife didn't recognize the it, but she knew that it must have been when they were younger, maybe sixteen by the year. A part of her screamed at her. It screamed unintelligible words that she couldn't make out no matter how hard she tried to decipher them. Her mind wanted to turn off the video before it started, but her gut was too intent with curiosity to listen.
Sam settled down on the love-seat with Dean, the curiosity in his eyes mirroring his older brother's. Everyone nearly jumped out of their skins as Aoife pressed the play button. Cas had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his brows knit together.
"I was sent to warn you..." he said uncertainly, "Of what...I don't know..."
Aoife took in a deep breath as pain stabbed her, "Well, why don't you stay and find out...?"
Castiel's azure eyes flitted to her for a brief moment before he nodded.
The video played jumping only a few times as it turned to a young girl, "Okay, so Ef and Sam are just getting back from a recon...alone...together..." Her deep blue eyes glinted deviously.
"I didn't know we hunted with a guy named Sam..." Riley commented quietly. No one spoke.
A handsome young man aimed the camera away from the white/blonde haired teenager. His auburn hair was cropped like Dean's and his green eye lit up in the same evil way that hers did, "Sammy won't know what hit him."
Sam and Dean's jaws nearly hit the floor, "That's..." Sam whispered.
"Me..." Dean finished.
The girls didn't seem to notice. Both of them almost unnaturally engrossed in the tape.
The young Dean trained the camera on the door as the young Riley said, "Quick! I head them coming!"
The teenage blonde crept over to the door and threw it open. Her jaw dropped in shock. A teenage boy with shaggy brown hair and features still sort of boyish had his lips locked with a pretty mahogany haired girl's. Dean whistled and both of them jumped back from the kiss.
"Riley!" The petite girl covered her face with a groan.
"I was going to say, 'Get you some,' but it looks like you already did..." Riley smirked.
"What the hell, you guys..." The teenage Sam's brown-green eyes were irritated.

"What. The. Hell." Dean said, his eyes narrowed and confused.Both girls barely moved—Aoife only doing so to stop the tape. Neither of them remembered a lick of this, but it was obviously there. Which meant that someone or something had messed with their memories.
Sam's eyes caught Aoife's chocolate orbs and a flush rose to her cheeks.