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Sighing Castiel throws on some clothes, uses the bathroom, and brushes his teeth. Today is a new day. Today is the first day of the rest of his life. Today is the first day he might as well consider himself a normal mortal. Like it or not, Castiel decides it is better to accept it than to keep trying to pretend he is destined to be something he isn’t.
He heads outside and down the street to where his favorite little coffee shop is. A gentle woman by the name of Missouri owns it. She swears she isn’t anything special, but a few times before Castiel’s powers started fading he swore he felt a little power coming from her aura. Castiel suspects she is a psychic of some level, but hasn’t truly ever bothered to ask. Sometimes, out of the blue, she’ll say something that is completely out of left field, but eventually makes sense. A lot of teenagers come to her for guidance; others just enjoy lounging around in her space. They say her energy radiates peace and a homey feeling. Castiel would very much agree.
“Oh honey, you’re about ten minutes late,” Missouri calls from behind the counter as Castiel walks in.
Tilting his head, Castiel approaches front hoping she’ll elaborate. Instead of explaining herself, she pours a cup of coffee into his favorite mug (the one with a picture of a black cat who’s tail becomes the handle), and hands him a plate with a piece of apple pie.
Blinking down at the pie for a moment, he tries to figure out why Missouri is handing him pie at eight o’clock in the morning. Maybe a late birthday present? He has been quite recluse lately. Technically pie is somewhat on the healthier side compared to all the other sweets out there. It has your fruit and basic bread like quality.
“This is my last slice,” she says nodding down at the pie. “But the perfect thing for setting you right again.”
“Pie for breakfast,” Castiel chuckles, picking up the plate and drink. “Thank you Missouri.”
She nods turning back to fuss over her display case. Castiel walks over to one of the two-seater tables by the window and sits down to enjoy the start to his day. Instead of digging right into the treat, he looks out the window watching a boy running, trying to keep up with a grey hare. Castiel is so amused watching the boy chasing the hare up and down the block that he doesn’t notice someone standing beside him until a voice clears.
“You took the last piece of pie.”
Castiel jumps at the sudden voice, almost falling off his stool as he spins around. A pair of bright green eyes blinks back at him in surprise. Castiel feels his heart pounding quickly in his chest, and his first thought is, great, my first day as a normal mortal and I’m going to have a heart attack. His second thought is sudden and he isn’t quite sure how he knows, but he knows. The man is a familiar.
Minutes pass with the man standing there, mouth agape as Castiel pants, sprawled out against the window. Slowly, Castiel rights himself on the stool clearing his throat and looking back up at the man.
“I didn’t mean to scare ya or anything,” the man says rubbing the back of his neck, a beautiful blush flushing his cheeks. “I just can’t believe the pie is sold out before nine in the morning.”
“Well, Missouri does make the best baked goods for miles around.” Castiel shrugs and glances down at his untouched pie in front of him. “You can have mine. I didn’t eat any of it, scouts honor.”
The man snorts and slides into the chair across from him, looking completely relaxed. “I doubt a person like you was ever a boy scout.”
Castiel shrugs and takes a sip from his lukewarm cup. “Am I that easy to read?”
The stranger laughs, picking up the fork besides Castiel’s plate and helping himself to a bite. “Mmmm!” He moans around the bite, fork still sticking out of his mouth. “S’is so good! You really weren’t exaggerating!”
Castiel smiles, taking another drink from his cup, taking a moment while the stranger eats to truly look at him. He’s wearing a red and black flannel shirt over a plain black t-shirt, which probably shouldn’t look as good as Castiel is finding it on the man. His hair is a honey brown, spiked haphazardly this way and that. It almost looks like it might have been done on purpose. The color of his eyes are what keeps Castiel staring. They almost appear to be shifting in the sunlight, going from deep emerald green to a bright spring green. As the man stabs at the last bite, he looks up just at the right moment to where the sun throws a silver of light over his face, and Castiel watches his pupils contract into slits.
He feels his eyes go wide as the stranger swears and digs into his breast pocket for his sunglasses, and puts them on. Castiel feels almost a little jealous of whatever witch is bound with this gorgeous man. Having a feline familiar is so rare, it’s almost unheard of. They were considered wild things, with endless untamable magic. The species hardly exists anymore in the supernatural community, and they’re said to help their witch to produce some of the most powerful spells. Not that it matters anymore. Because it doesn’t. Because he’s mortal.
Castiel slumps, looking down at his empty plate. The day had started out with so much promise, too. Maybe he can start again tomorrow. Tomorrow is as good of day as any to start anew.
“Can you just pretend like you didn’t see what you saw?”
Castiel sighs and looks back up at the man. “Of course.”
The strange opens his mouth as if to say something else, then closes it looking confused. He opens it again, then shuts it, shaking his head. The third time he actually manages a chuckle. “You seriously don’t care.”
Castiel shrugs and looks back at the window. The boy with the hare is long gone. “As long as you and your witch aren’t planning on burning down this town, I see no reason to draw attention to the fact you are a cat.”
“Huh,” The stranger huffs. “It’s different out here.”
Castiel hums a response, watching a breeze blow a few yellowish leaves down the sidewalk.
“I don’t, by the way.” The strange says.
Castiel turns back to look at the nervous looking man who is currently fiddling with his pair of sunglasses in his hands. “Don’t what?”
He clears his throat, folding the glasses back up and sliding them in his pocket. “Have a witch.”
Castiel blinks back at the man, trying to comprehend how that is even possible. The man has to be in his thirty’s, like him, which is even more unheard of for familiars to be unbound than witches. Expecially super rare, coveted felines, like this man in front of him.
A hundred questions fill Castiel’s mind. Where did he come from? Where is he going? Why is he unbound? What color of cat is he? Has he lost his ability to shift? Are there more of him?
But instead of asking any of these, Castiel holds out his hand and says, “Castiel Novak. I just turned thirty a few days ago. Unbound witch.”
The stranger blinks at the hand for a moment before smirking, and taking the extended hand and giving it a solid shake, “Dean Winchester. Twenty-nine year old unbound familiar.” Their grasp lingers for just a moment longer than what would be considered normal, but neither of them seem to want to break the touch.
And then Castiel feels it.
The tiniest tingle running from where Dean is touching him, into his fingers, and up his arm. He hears Dean give a tiny gasp, tightening his grip. The tingle builds until it feels like every single molecule inside his body is vibrating with energy. A light bulb flickers above them, and Castiel cannot help but laugh, giddy on the feeling of actual magic he’s been convincing himself he’d never feel again. The light bulb pops and shatters, and they both jump, hands unlinking.
“Castiel Novak!” He hears Missouri yell from back in the kitchen somewhere. “What have I told you about using that magic of yours in my shop, boy?”
He flinches, glancing over at Dean. But it isn’t Dean – the human Dean – who is staring across from him. Inside of those beautiful ever-changing eyes he’s growing fond of, they now almost glow a golden color, feline silted. A beautifully large, silk coated looking black jaguar stands in his place, looking startled to be, well, a black jaguar.
“You’re…you’re beautiful,” He says dumbly.
Dean gives him an annoyed look. “Alright Romeo, save it. How about we get me out of here without being seen asap, yeah?”
Castiel blinks back him, trying to process that he mentally just heard Dean speaking to him. He knows bonded witches and their familiars can communicate (he’s watched Gabriel yell at Charlie many times about singing the same song over and over again), but he had long since given up on the idea to it happening to him.
“Did we just…are we…?”
Dean huffs and growls a little. “Considering I haven’t been able to shift in over two years, I would take that as a yes.”
“Why don’t you just shift back?” Castiel asks getting out of his chair and gathering Dean’s torn clothing around him. Missouri truly hates it when people shift in her store, not tidying up after themselves.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?”
Castiel tosses the pieces of clothing in the garbage can by the door, and turns around shrugging. Dean has followed him, his tail swishes anxiously behind him, knocking into the other table and chairs. The sun streaming through the window makes the golden markings almost shimmer against his black coat. Castiel’s fingers twitch to reach out and run his hand through the fur.
“Dude, seriously? Now?”
He blushes and walks over to the front door, holding it open. “I seriously hope you don’t think I’m going to strut down main street looking like this. I ain’t exactly a house breed, Cas.”
That’s true. Dean is different. Probably the only one of his kind left. Still, this is his home town. Nothing has ever, or will ever happen in this town. Maybe wherever Dean is from he has to look over his shoulder, but here –
“You’re lettin’ in all the bugs!” Missouri says stepping out from the kitchen. Castiel lets the door close behind him with a sigh. “Now then, suga’. Let’s get you and your beautiful looking friend down in the basement until he can change back.”
“She seems remarkably unfazed that I look like this.”
“That’s because I could feel it on you when you walked into my shop,” Missouri responds, motioning for them to follow as she walks back into the kitchen.
“Holy shit, she can hear me!”
Castiel chuckles, ducking into the kitchen as Missouri rolls her eyes, sighing. “Boy, you may have the looks, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some smarts as well.”
Dean growls a little, padding after Castiel as they make their way to the back of the kitchen, then turn left through an open doorway that leads downstairs.
“Do me a favor and stay quiet while you’re down there. Whatever you hear, you keep yourselves hidden.” Her brown eyes glisten for a moment as if they to say she knows something they don’t, before Castiel nods. “Good. Now get.”