THE ELEVENTH HOUR [Castiel x F!Reader]

3

A knock at the door snaps you awake. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears, and you realise you're sat upright, gun in hand. It's all instinct after years of hunting. Years of being hunted. There's a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead when your eyes snap to Sam, who stands up and creeps towards the door. He's silent. Trained. Another knock. You swallow the lump in your throat and your heart begins to even out.

Whoever is out there, it isn't him. An Angel of the Lord has no need for knocking.

You rise to your feet adjusting your ridden-up shirt.  Sam cracks open the motel room door and his shoulders loosen. That means there's no threat. Your gun lowers.

"Uh... You okay, lady?" Sam asks awkwardly, opening the door a little wider.

He looks down at the young girl, her round glasses the first thing to stand out to him. The next is her smile; wide and ecstatic.

"Sam," she huffs in disbelief, "Is it really you?" Becky stands at attention, frozen like a statue as she awaits Sam's response.

The youngest Winchester, with his eyebrows pinching together and his brain trying to understand, gives you and Dean a look. He's trying to piece together if he's ever seen her, but his mind can't come up with anything. "Uh-"

"You're so tall..." She continues, smiling so wide that her eyes squint sweetly.

You frown in disgust, lips pouting as you pull the door further open, "Um. Hello?"

Becky's face falls for a moment and she looks a little more resigned, "U-Oh! I didn't realise you had company."

You raise your eyebrows at her before turning to  meet Sam's gaze, almost spilling out a laugh. "Yeah, three's company," Dean shouts, appearing between you and Sam. Becky's curious eyes linger on Deans face before she holds back a squeal.

"Sorry," Sam presses his lips together, not wanting to be rude or offend the girl, "do I know you?" He knows the answer is no, but she seems so happy to be standing there. 

"No," she shakes her head, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose, "But I know you. You're Sam Winchester! And you're-" She looks at Dean, her head tilting, "not what I pictured. I've read all about you guys!"

"Who the hell are you?" You ask again, voice raspy from a rough sleep and far more forceful.

"Only your biggest fan, Y/N!" She beams, pressing her palms against her pink cheeks, "Oh, gosh, you don't know how often I wished I was you."

"What?" You tilt your head at her, frowning wildly. Why would anyone wish to be you? Look at where you are; in a shitty, smelly hotel room at the end of time. Her straight hair swings as she skips inside the room, past the three of you. You raise a hand, lSam, what the fuck-"

"I don't know," Sam raises his in surrender.

"I'm Becky!" She explains kindly, hands clasped in front of her, "Mr Edmund told me where you were."

"Chuck?" Dean narrows his eyes, setting his gun aside as he studies the prim girl.

You tuck your gun into the back of your shorts, watching suspiciously as you sit on your bed. It's still warm from where you tossed and turned for hours, wishing for heavenly company.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched," Becky announces, "Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way - the demon stuff was getting kind of old."

You watch her blankly, "Okay."

"Right," Sam chuckles awkwardly, "What's the message?"

"He had a vision. The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it."

"The Michael sword?" Dean repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Becky, does he know where it is?"

"In a castle," she responds, suddenly serious, "on a hill made of forty-two dogs." She then bursts into a grin, shrugging happily.

Dean shoots you a look, his energy the utter opposite of the stranger, "Forty-two dogs?"

"Yeah," you roll your eyes, frowning when you turn back to Becky, "that, um, that makes no sense, Becky."

She nods vehemently before shrugging. "It doesn't, but that's what he said. I memorised every word," She takes a step closer to Sam, her smile blinding, "For you."

He looks nervous and uncomfortable so you let out a loud cough, clapping your hands together. "Alright then," you exclaim, "guess we gotta do what we always do when we don't know shit; call Bobby."

"Awesome!" Becky gasps.