I'll Tell You My Sins so You Can Sharpen Your Knife
Control your own destiny or someone else will
Saturday, January 4, 2009
Dear Diary,
It is officially my 365th day here. A whole new calendar. And once again, I have run out of things to do before noon. I guess the new calendar can’t change that.
Sarah sighed and looked up from her journal. She had never been much of a diary writer, but seclusion changes people.
The snow has settled in. Remember how much Mom hated the cold? I wonder why I never minded it so much. Maybe I take after Dad. I hope I do.
Not sure what to do today. I do have an appointment later. Mrs. Blake wants her card read again. She always asks if her children are okay. I wish I could tell her the truth.
Maybe after I’ll give Crowley a call. Always a nice change of pace. Although it seems like something is happening. He hasn’t been answering as quickly lately. Probably best to stay out of it.
-Sarah
Sarah barely finished her entry before she heard a sharp knock on the door. With a sigh she pulled herself out of her arm chair. She stepped around stacks of books. She would have to start selling or donating soon, just to clear some space. But she couldn’t bear to part with any of them.
Whoever was at the door was knocking urgently.
“Alright, alright.” Sarah grumbled, scratching her scalp and trying to shake out her chestnut colored hair. “Keep your earmuffs on.”
She threw open the front door and scowled at the young girls on her doorstep. Most of the local kids thought she was a witch of the Disney-villain variety. They weren’t too far off the mark. So she always made an effort to give them a show.
“What do you want?” she scowled.
“We need to hold a séance!” one girl said, sounding breathless. “It’s urgent!”
“With who?” Sarah sighed. “Miley Cyrus’ pride?”
“This isn’t funny! We need to know if Josh is going to ask Sadie to the fall dance and my sister Annie knows everything but she died and – “
“This is a dare, isn’t it? What, you need to steal the witch’s eye glasses? Get out of here, go find another witch.”
“But – “
Sarah raised a manicured finger, and the girls screamed and ran. She held in a laugh as she shut the door. She wondered if in their eyes she had green skin and warts.
Sarah retrieved her mug from the living room, refilled it with a new teabag and hot water, and started for the bathroom. A bath could kill an hour, if she could manage to stay put for that long. Maybe she’d break out that Lush kit someone had sent her for Christmas. And she had that new book…
CRASH
Sarah jumped half a foot in the air, dropped her mug, and yelped as the boiling hot water soaked her pajama pants. The mug shattered into pieces, her pants stuck to her skin and burned her legs.
Biting back tears of pain, she stripped off her pants and stepped around the glass. It was probably a branch burdened with snow. It happened a lot in the middle of Bumblefuck New Jersey. Old trees, wet snow.
She walked back towards the living room and stopped short. It was freezing suddenly.
A few more steps revealed the reason for the cold. There was a hole in her roof. Pieces of roof littered the fallen stack of books. Snow was slowly falling into the house, and in the middle of it all sat a man in a trench coat, rubbing his head.
And Sarah was in her panties.
“Damn it.” she breathed.
He blinked at her with innocent, exhausted eyes, and Sarah just stared back. His clothes didn’t fit, he was scruffy, and he seemed very, very lost.
“You broke my roof.” She finally said, slightly in shock.
“I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord.” He said. His voice was deep and rich, and somehow like a memory from her childhood.
“You broke my roof.”
He looked at the hole above him with guilt. “I can fix that.”
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes tightly and reopened them.
She had slight burns on her legs.
She did not have pants on.
There was a hole in her ceiling.
A man claiming to be an angel was sitting in her living room.
“I need new pants.” She muttered. “Stay there.”
Sarah went into her bedroom and dug through her dresser for a pair of jeans. A necklace she was given as a baby being baptized caught her eye. She always wore it as a child, but as she got older it simply hung off her mirror. The pendant was a tiny silver square with an angel etched in. In absolutely miniscule letters, it said, Castiel.
Sarah buttoned her jeans, took the necklace off the mirror, and returned to her guest with it tightly clutched in her hand.
The roof was once again hole, the books restacked, and the snow gone. The angel was looking at a copy of an Assyrian Book of the Dead.
“Careful, that’s delicate.” Sarah sighed, sitting down in her chair. “I think it’s the only surviving copy.”
“It’s not.” He said.
“Which angel are you again?”
“Castiel.”
“Angel of Temperance. Archangel of the Seventh Heaven and the Sixth Day. Known for watching the cosmos in solitude and doing nothing.” Sarah crossed her arms. “Something big must be happening if you’re here. Which begs the question, why are you here in this cottage with me?”
“I am the guardian of your soul.”
“Yes, I know. But you’ve never come before.”
He looked at her, long and hard. “Haven’t you ever wondered how you have been so lucky these years? That time you flipped your bike and walked away without a scratch. You fell from a tree when you were a child, the fall should have killed you, but you just suffered from a bump on the head. I’ve always been with you.”
Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She wished this was the strangest thing to happen this month. “Why are you here now, Castiel?”
“You have a role to play. There’s someone you have to meet. They need your help.”
Sarah looked away. “I’m not sure if I can. I’m here for a reason.”
Castiel studied the beam in the ceiling above him, with its etchings. “This is a good safe house. I couldn’t find you, and we are linked.”
“Is that why you came through the roof?”
“Yes.” He looked at the necklace in her hand. “If you wear that, I will always find you, no matter where you are. I will always hear your prayers. I will return tomorrow to take you to the Winchesters.”
“Winchesters?” Sarah sputtered. “Oh, no. Not those two. They kill people like me.”
Castiel looked into her eyes. “You still have your soul. You are not a witch. You're something different.”
Sarah looked away.
“They need your help. You don’t need to tell them anything you don’t want to. And you will be with me, under my protection. I will see you tomorrow morning.”
A rustle of feathers, and he was gone. Probably off to crash land through someone else’s roof. She looked at the necklace still clutched tightly in her hand. Castiel. Here to change the course of her fate.
Dear Diary,
It is officially my 365th day here. A whole new calendar. And once again, I have run out of things to do before noon. I guess the new calendar can’t change that.
Sarah sighed and looked up from her journal. She had never been much of a diary writer, but seclusion changes people.
The snow has settled in. Remember how much Mom hated the cold? I wonder why I never minded it so much. Maybe I take after Dad. I hope I do.
Not sure what to do today. I do have an appointment later. Mrs. Blake wants her card read again. She always asks if her children are okay. I wish I could tell her the truth.
Maybe after I’ll give Crowley a call. Always a nice change of pace. Although it seems like something is happening. He hasn’t been answering as quickly lately. Probably best to stay out of it.
-Sarah
Sarah barely finished her entry before she heard a sharp knock on the door. With a sigh she pulled herself out of her arm chair. She stepped around stacks of books. She would have to start selling or donating soon, just to clear some space. But she couldn’t bear to part with any of them.
Whoever was at the door was knocking urgently.
“Alright, alright.” Sarah grumbled, scratching her scalp and trying to shake out her chestnut colored hair. “Keep your earmuffs on.”
She threw open the front door and scowled at the young girls on her doorstep. Most of the local kids thought she was a witch of the Disney-villain variety. They weren’t too far off the mark. So she always made an effort to give them a show.
“What do you want?” she scowled.
“We need to hold a séance!” one girl said, sounding breathless. “It’s urgent!”
“With who?” Sarah sighed. “Miley Cyrus’ pride?”
“This isn’t funny! We need to know if Josh is going to ask Sadie to the fall dance and my sister Annie knows everything but she died and – “
“This is a dare, isn’t it? What, you need to steal the witch’s eye glasses? Get out of here, go find another witch.”
“But – “
Sarah raised a manicured finger, and the girls screamed and ran. She held in a laugh as she shut the door. She wondered if in their eyes she had green skin and warts.
Sarah retrieved her mug from the living room, refilled it with a new teabag and hot water, and started for the bathroom. A bath could kill an hour, if she could manage to stay put for that long. Maybe she’d break out that Lush kit someone had sent her for Christmas. And she had that new book…
CRASH
Sarah jumped half a foot in the air, dropped her mug, and yelped as the boiling hot water soaked her pajama pants. The mug shattered into pieces, her pants stuck to her skin and burned her legs.
Biting back tears of pain, she stripped off her pants and stepped around the glass. It was probably a branch burdened with snow. It happened a lot in the middle of Bumblefuck New Jersey. Old trees, wet snow.
She walked back towards the living room and stopped short. It was freezing suddenly.
A few more steps revealed the reason for the cold. There was a hole in her roof. Pieces of roof littered the fallen stack of books. Snow was slowly falling into the house, and in the middle of it all sat a man in a trench coat, rubbing his head.
And Sarah was in her panties.
“Damn it.” she breathed.
He blinked at her with innocent, exhausted eyes, and Sarah just stared back. His clothes didn’t fit, he was scruffy, and he seemed very, very lost.
“You broke my roof.” She finally said, slightly in shock.
“I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord.” He said. His voice was deep and rich, and somehow like a memory from her childhood.
“You broke my roof.”
He looked at the hole above him with guilt. “I can fix that.”
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes tightly and reopened them.
She had slight burns on her legs.
She did not have pants on.
There was a hole in her ceiling.
A man claiming to be an angel was sitting in her living room.
“I need new pants.” She muttered. “Stay there.”
Sarah went into her bedroom and dug through her dresser for a pair of jeans. A necklace she was given as a baby being baptized caught her eye. She always wore it as a child, but as she got older it simply hung off her mirror. The pendant was a tiny silver square with an angel etched in. In absolutely miniscule letters, it said, Castiel.
Sarah buttoned her jeans, took the necklace off the mirror, and returned to her guest with it tightly clutched in her hand.
The roof was once again hole, the books restacked, and the snow gone. The angel was looking at a copy of an Assyrian Book of the Dead.
“Careful, that’s delicate.” Sarah sighed, sitting down in her chair. “I think it’s the only surviving copy.”
“It’s not.” He said.
“Which angel are you again?”
“Castiel.”
“Angel of Temperance. Archangel of the Seventh Heaven and the Sixth Day. Known for watching the cosmos in solitude and doing nothing.” Sarah crossed her arms. “Something big must be happening if you’re here. Which begs the question, why are you here in this cottage with me?”
“I am the guardian of your soul.”
“Yes, I know. But you’ve never come before.”
He looked at her, long and hard. “Haven’t you ever wondered how you have been so lucky these years? That time you flipped your bike and walked away without a scratch. You fell from a tree when you were a child, the fall should have killed you, but you just suffered from a bump on the head. I’ve always been with you.”
Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She wished this was the strangest thing to happen this month. “Why are you here now, Castiel?”
“You have a role to play. There’s someone you have to meet. They need your help.”
Sarah looked away. “I’m not sure if I can. I’m here for a reason.”
Castiel studied the beam in the ceiling above him, with its etchings. “This is a good safe house. I couldn’t find you, and we are linked.”
“Is that why you came through the roof?”
“Yes.” He looked at the necklace in her hand. “If you wear that, I will always find you, no matter where you are. I will always hear your prayers. I will return tomorrow to take you to the Winchesters.”
“Winchesters?” Sarah sputtered. “Oh, no. Not those two. They kill people like me.”
Castiel looked into her eyes. “You still have your soul. You are not a witch. You're something different.”
Sarah looked away.
“They need your help. You don’t need to tell them anything you don’t want to. And you will be with me, under my protection. I will see you tomorrow morning.”
A rustle of feathers, and he was gone. Probably off to crash land through someone else’s roof. She looked at the necklace still clutched tightly in her hand. Castiel. Here to change the course of her fate.