Love Lost

It has been exactly one week and two days since the incident with Sam and Dean and I haven't heard from them since. They had told me to contact them if anything happened and I plan on keeping it that way. I sure as hell don't want to be that girl.

It is currently Monday, October 5th and 8:45 in the morning. In approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes I have class down the street so I have waken up extra early in preparation. Lydia is still asleep for her class is at 1 in the afternoon so I quietly shuffle into the bathroom to get ready.

I hurry to get my morning routine over with to spend more time on my hair and make up. In about 5 minutes I am done and begin applying my usual, day-to-day make up. I start with a simple facial coverage then add black winged eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick. For finishing touches, I fill in my eyebrows and contour, highlight, and blush my face. Afterwards I decide to leave my dark hair in its natural curly state and move onto my attire.

I choose a pair of black skinny jeans that are rolled at the hemline so they graze the tops of my ankles and a loose, white, low scoop-neck tee. I add a chunky burgundy cardigan and my matching burgundy platform oxfords to complete the look. I then put on my favorite gold jewelry and spray on some perfume before grabbing my necessities for the day and exit the apartment.

Right as I get into my car, I hear my phone vibrating, indicating that I am receiving an oncoming call. I rustle through my bag to find it and, of course, it's at the bottom. However, I manage to answer the phone in time.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this Elena?"

"Yeah," I pause, quickly identifying the familiar gruff voice. "Dean?"

"Just checkin' up on you. Everything okay? No nightmares?" he asks and for a moment, almost sounds genuinely concerned.

"No, everything has been alright. Why, is something the matter?"

Silence. I press the phone harder to my ear in attempt to locate any source of sound on the other line but hear nothing. "Dean?"

"Yeah, sorry, just talkin' to Sammy. You're fine, just... watch out, alright?"

"What do you mean by that?" I question slowly, but before I can get another word out, he hangs up on me.

"Dammit, Dean," I curse angrily.

I force my keys into the ignition and start the car, not bothering to contain the reckless driving about to ensure from my heated emotions. No, it's okay Dean, don't tell me anything at all, especially if it regards the safety of my life. I cannot help but feel unnerved by what he said. I know he merely checked up on me but what does a normal human being do when he or she is scared? That's right, they think of the worst possible situations that can arise from their predicament. And that is exactly what I think of during the entire ride to class and throughout the fifty minute lecture.

-

"Wow," Bobby whistles in astonishment once Dean and Sam finish explaining the occurrences they experienced in the past week and a half.

"Can you make anythin' of it? Ya know, maybe got somethin' in those freaky books of yours?" Dean inquires as he takes a seat in one of the wooden chairs before Bobby's cluttered desk.

The older man heaves out a great sigh as he hopelessly flips through a few worn and torn books on his desk for answers, but comes up empty-handed. This girl... he has never heard of such an ordeal. She obviously has some form of psychic ability, but what exactly? And what does she have to do with the Winchester boys? Bobby returns to his seat and takes a long sip of his cheap whiskey.

"I don't know, son. What about angel boy over there? He know a thing or two?" Bobby motions to Castiel, who is analyzing the older hunter's disorganized bookcases with pure interest and scrutiny.

"We-"

"As I told Dean and Sam previously, I do not have knowledge above their own. All I know is that we are to protect her for her existence is vital for your own lives," Castiel interjects with a hint of annoyance in his rugged, expressionless voice.

"How?" Sam adds doubtfully.

Castiel does not respond and looks out the window to his right, Bobby's mess of books, papers, and miscellaneous hunter items slightly obscuring the view of the salvage yard. "Because God ordered it."

Then he is gone.

Dean opens his mouth to make a smart-ass comment but Sam stops him with a jab in the ribs.

"God ordered it? How big is this thing exactly?" he questions in complete shock at the mention of the big man upstairs.

Sam, at least, has some form of belief in God, or enough to make him feel amazed and awestruck at His appearance in their situation. Dean, however, did not, does not, and will not give a crap about anything relating to religion. He's still having a difficult time believing that Castiel is truly an 'Angel of the Lord', as he put it when they first met. Sam has tried to get Dean to consider the actuality of there being a God and perhaps making praying a habit time and time again but Dean refuses. He, by nature, is stubborn, and after what he sees daily, he doesn't even question it anymore. To him, either God's dead or He is content with the havoc and turmoil that plagues the earth. Whichever way it may be, the hunter does not want to be apart of it, because he, simply put, doesn't have to and that's that.

"I don't know, but what I do know is that this isn't our usual hunting case. I mean the freakin' angels are gettin' involved now! Honestly I don't care, just as long as we don't gotta play babysitter," grumbles Dean as he leans back into his chair and props his legs up on the desk.

Bobby smacks him in the head. "All we can do now is wait for the angel's orders and keep checkin' up on the girl, so until then..." he rises from his chair and goes to the kitchen. "I'm gettin' another beer."

-

At about 11:20 in the morning, I return from class with a bag of Chipotle. A sigh of relief slips past my lips as I throw my things on the dining room table and go to my room to change.

"Hey, girl!" calls Lydia from the shower.

"Hey!" I greet back before closing my door.

I choose a simple over-sized t-shirt and black yoga pants- you can never go wrong with that combination. I then pull my hair into a ponytail, using more than enough bobby pins to secure the loose short hair falling from the band, and throw on a black, stretchy headband to keep my bangs back. I grab a pillow off my bed and head back into the living room.

"Got the food?" Lydia asks as she exits the bathroom, drying her damp hair.

I gesture to the huge burrito bowl on the dining table as I stuff my face with my own food, happiness bubbling inside me. In a matter of seconds, the blond joins me on the couch, flipping the channel to a recording of How I Met Your Mother.

For the next 20 minutes, we sit in silence, watching the show and eating our food. It is one of those types of silences where you feel absolutely comfortable with no awkwardness, no tense airs, nothing. It is just the comfort of being in each others' company and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. However as quickly as it came, it is gone and Lydia stands up to finish getting ready for class. I blow her a kiss goodbye as I arise from the couch myself and throw away my empty food container.

"I need a nap," I mumble to myself before heading to my room and doing just that.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Be-

"Shut up," I groan as I harshly silence my alarm. I open one eye to read the time and find that it is 9 o' clock at night.

"What the fuck?" I curse, mainly at myself. I slept for nine hours straight!

In exasperation, I throw the covers off of me and sit up. I can barely see anything for it is pitch black outside so I turn on my phone to use it as a light source while I locate my ceiling fan. When I turn on the light, I have a hard time adjusting to the sudden brightness but carry on with my journey to actually exit the consoling atmosphere of my room.

However, something stops me. From the crack of my door, I see that the hallway light is on. Is Lydia already home from work? I thought she told me she worked the night shift earlier today. "Lydia?"

I open the door and peer into the hallway. Nothing. I say her name once again, checking her room, but find it to be empty as well. She must have stopped by and left the lights on since she usually turns them off before going to class when I'm taking a nap. I proceed down the hallway, briefly inspecting the bathroom on the way, then see that the TV is on.

I follow the light buzzing of crappy infomercials. "Lydia?"

As expected, I find her laid on the couch, back to me.

"Damn, girl, you must be crazy tired to not have heard me yelling your name," I say lightly as I grab a blanket from the arm chair behind me. I lay the warm covering over her body and turn to make some food when something catches my eye. What is that? I think as I retreat to her sleeping form and bend over to get a closer look. Something is on her face, however it is on the side that is in contact with the couch so I cannot distinguish the substance very well.

"Lydia?" I start as I gently push her over to get a good look at her.

Just then a blood-curdling scream rips through the once still air- my blood curdling scream. Lydia's throat is sliced open, almost to the point of complete decapitation. Blood has soaked her torso from the wound, but it looks quite fresh and runny so it must have occurred just a few moments ago. Shit. I jump up and spin around to see a man heading straight towards me. Without thinking, I raise my fist and muster all my strength before colliding it with his jaw.

"Holy Mother of God!" I scream in pain as I weakly fall to my knees. At the contact, I could feel the bones in my hand break cleanly and have the urge to cry at the immense pain.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the stranger says abruptly.

I jerk my head up and open my mouth to retaliate but the words are clogged in my throat. You killed my best friend, I think instead, realization hitting me like a train.

"I did not kill her."

What the hell? Did this guy just read my mind or something?

"Oh really? Then please, explain to me what did!" I yell sarcastically, regaining my ability to speak as I stand up to look him dead in the eyes.

"The demon that was after you," he answers bluntly, motioning to a still figure in the corner of the room I hadn't noticed before.

I gasp. Did he just say demon? I examine the man before me with a strange look. He appears to stand at least a foot taller than me with a lean though toned build. His hair is dark and disheveled while his eyes shine the brightest of blue. The dim light of the ceiling fan gives his skin a soft glow but I can tell that he naturally has some color. Why did he seem so familiar? The man doesn't say anything as I search for an identity to match him with, his striking eyes watching me with the utmost curiosity. Wait a minute... creepy, deep, robotic-like voice, emotionless behavior, trench coat and suit...

"Castiel?" I say with uncertainty, the foreign name leaving me with a strange taste in my mouth.

"I suspect Sam and Dean have told you about me," he replies with a serious face.

I nod. So this is the famous Angel of the Lord who dragged Dean's ass out of Hell. I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, not exactly sure how I am to talk to this guy. I distinctly remember Dean telling me that Castiel is a difficult guy to understand. Well he didn't say that exactly, his true words aren't something I would like to necessarily repeat.

Then a thought hit me. Lydia.

"Fuck," I swear as I turn to her, but Castiel stops me.

"We must leave, I have a feeling that more may be coming."

"What!? No, Ly-"

"She is not of importance at the moment! We need to get you to safety!"

I laugh dryly. "My best friend was just murdered, you asshole! I'm not leaving her with those disgusting creatures!" I snarl, tearing my arm from his grip.

"I will take care of her. Get your things, we leave as soon as you're done." And with that, he is gone.

I blink, confused, and see that he indeed took Lydia with him. Letting out a scream, I stomp to my room to do what the angel said and allow the tears to freely fall. As I angrily grab my suitcases from my closet, I cannot stop thinking about the situation and how far it has escalated in such a short amount of time.

Lydia... the girl who has been there for me since the start of college... I choke back a sob. She is dead. She died while I decided to take a 9 hour fucking nap. She didn't do anything to deserve this, it was only a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now the tears cannot be restrained. I kneel down and dig my fingers into my hair, nails scraping painfully at my scalp. A powerful force grabs hold of my chest and hinders my ability to breathe.

"I'm sorry," I cry out to no one, wrapping my frail arms around my churning stomach. This is all my fault, I think brokenly. What is going to happen to my other friends? My family?

"No," I gasp. I gasp for the single breath of life that could potentially save the life I once contained that is now slipping through my feeble fingers. I am losing the will to hold on. "No, no, no."

I crumple into a ball of vulnerability on the floor, sobs brutally racking my chest as I mentally apologize to everyone I know in advance. Anything could happen at this point but I can't bear to think of that. Death of a stranger leaves me in tears, what will happen if the demons become impatient and decide to take action on anyone else I love? Strangled breaths of air barely manage to escape my lungs as I feel Castiel's return, but I do not acknowledge him. I expect him to say something but he doesn't. He just stands there patiently in silence.

"I'm sorry," he says suddenly, attempting to sound truly apologetic. However it is just as empty and dispassionate as everything else that comes out of his mouth.

I pat my neck to find my sacred cross necklace, something I have never taken off since my parents gave it to me when I was five years old. My heart clenches tightly once I locate the cold, thin cross pendant. I hold onto it for a short period of time before, like a band-aid, I rip it off my neck and drop it on the carpeted floor without a word. I stand up and icily open my suitcases to resume packing my things.

"Give me 30 minutes."