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Promise Not To Tell Another Soul?	By : ToxicLaughter Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 906 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. NO MONEY/PROFIT IS MADE BY WRITING THIS STORY

Chapter List
- 1-Promise Not To Tell Another Soul?
- 1
Dean Winchester has been on the force for about five years now and there’s practically nothing he hasn’t seen. Life has been pretty usual for the past couple of weeks, and then one morning he’s called into work on a rather…unusual request. Bobby Singer, his boss, has asked Dean to go check out a robbery of a giant metal sculpture of…angel wings? When he gets to the warehouse of the rather distraught artist he expects that it’ll be a pretty usual case. Until the artist shows that he doesn’t just make art, he is art.
In this series you’ll see: Police!Dean, Artist!Cas, ConvenienceStore!Cas, College!Sam, Chief!Bobby, Alive!Jo, Alive!Ash, Human!Gabriel, Human!Cas, and Alive!Mary.
Angel Wings #1: Promise Not to Tell Another Soul?
Clouds tumbled over one another in the sky, fighting to be the one on top as the sun peaked its way over the edge of the Rockies and didn’t bother to part the fluffy white patches as it rose into the blue ocean it called its home. The pure white ellipses looked like bunches of cotton as they floated to block the giant ball of fire, their effort futile as the rays broke through them and drenched the town below in blinding light.
It had been nice for the past week, not just weather wise, but overall, nice. Dean Winchester knew this the best out of anyone. He had been working for the Boulder Police Department for roughly five years and the past week he hadn’t been called in once for any type of situation. Even the college nearby hadn’t seen much action.
As the sunlight split through his curtains and poked at his eyes he rolled over and sleepily picked up the cell phone on his nightstand. He had thirty minutes to get ready for work. Despite the recent calmness of his community, Chief Singer refused to give anyone any days off. So he reluctantly tossed his legs off the side of his bed and stretched, procrastinating as much as he could before heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
He let the water run for a minute before stripping off his pajamas and jumping in. There was a low moan as the hot liquid rolled over his hair and body, beading its way down onto the tub below. Dean quickly massaged shampoo into his hair, rinsed, then repeat with conditioner. He didn’t bother with the body wash, knowing very well he could mask any unnatural scent with about ten pounds of cologne and the only person who might ask about it would be Sammy, and he was three states away.
The next ten minutes were spent drying off his body, getting dressed in his usual uniform, then styling his hair with the last bit of his gel, and clicking the TV onto the news. He munched on a PopTart and let the random information being fed to him by the news castors go in one ear and out the other. His phone soon found its way into his hand and he scrolled through his messages before landing on one labeled ‘Lisa’. He sighed and closed out of the window to shove the device back into his pocket.
The time on the news flicked to 7:00 and he did what he had to do, grab his keys and slip on his boots. His phone in his pocket buzzed and Dean ignored it until he was out the door and unlocking his car, hitting the green button and pressing the device up to his ear. “Winchester.” He said.
“Dean? Where are you?” It was Bobby Singer. Dean slipped into the driver’s seat of his Impala and closed the door.
“On my way, why?”
“Are ya just leaving now?”
“Yeah.” He put the keys in the ignition and waited as the car fired up and purred to life.
“Good, I’ll have Ash send ya the address to this place, got us a robbery.”
Dean threw up his free hand. “And you’re sending me? Why?”
“Because you’re the only non-idjit right now. Now stop complaining and get to it boy.” The line went dead and Dean groaned loudly as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal, changed gears, and slipped out of the driveway. Just his luck that in the calmest week they’d ever seen he’d get put on the only case to come across the chief’s desk.
The beeping of Ash’s text came in less than a minute and he checked it as he came to a stop light. The damn place was on the other side of town. He groaned again and set the phone onto the passenger seat with a dull thunk. He put on some Queen and tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel as the music blasted through his speakers. It took twenty minutes to get the large warehouse that was apparently someone’s house and workspace.
He unbuckled, turned the music off, and headed for the door. He barely got to knock it once before it swung open to reveal a short brown haired man with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. The sides of his lips were covered in blue and white toothpaste foam. Dean almost laughed, but tucked his emotions under his stale expression and held out his hand. “Dean Winchester, you called about a robbery.”
The man smirked and pulled the toothbrush from his mouth to turn and yell, “CASSIE!” to the space behind him. Dean scrunched up his nose as some of the toothpaste was spit out of the man’s mouth and onto to the floor. There were a couple of banging noises, a “gosh darn it” and finally a head poked out from the side of the doorframe. Black hair, greasy and tussled, covered one of the man’s bright blue eyes that stared up at Dean with interest.
“They stole my wings.” He said nonchalantly, pushing the other man away and touching both sides of the doorframe. The short brown haired one just peeked under the black haired man’s arm. “I am Castiel, nice to meet you Dean.” He held out one of his hands. Dean cautiously smiled and took it, shaking it once before letting it go and stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“So there is a robbery?”
“Yes, they stole my wings. Didn’t you hear me?” Castiel tilted his head in confusion and gave Dean an inquisitive look. Dean shook his head and waved it off, asking to come in. After a moment of consideration, Castiel stepped aside, same with the shorter man, and Dean was allowed inside.
“So, Cas – you don’t mind if I call you Cas do you?” The black haired man pushed some hair out of his face before looking to the ceiling to consider his options. He gave Dean the okay moments later. “Sweet, so Cas, you said they stole your wings, what exactly do you mean by that.”
The short brown haired one jumped in and pushed the other one, toothpaste and brush gone and mouth clean. “Cassie here is an artist; he made a sculpture of angel wings. They were stolen by that dick Lucifer last night.” He said bitterly before reaching out his hand and smiling. “I’m Gabriel by the way.” Dean nodded and cautiously took his hand.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. “If you could give me a description of the sculpture then we could dispatch a team or two to see if we could find it.”
Gabriel frowned and snatched the notepad from Dean’s hands. “You moron, I told you, Lucifer took it. He’s a big old bag of dicks.” He began to scribble some words on the paper before sticking out his tongue and smirking once he finally picked up the pen from the paper. “Just look for him and you’ll find it.”
Taking the paper back Dean sighed at the short description words, which really weren’t that bad, in fact they gave him a pretty good description of Lucifer, what the issue was, was the comically drawn male genitalia at the bottom of the page. He began to think that Gabriel was a bit obsessed with dicks. “Uh, thanks.” He said, stuffing it back into his pocket. “Why do you think it was him who took it?”
“You don’t listen do you? He’s a-,” Castiel held up his hand to Gabriel’s mouth and shyly smiled.
“He doesn’t like me at all. He’s at the top of our list, but I urge you to look elsewhere too.” He said, lowering his hand and motioning for Dean to follow. “A lot of my work is on canvas, but I’m a fan of theological lore so this wasn’t an unusual thing for me to do.” Dean looked at the walls of the warehouse as they walked through it, noticing that the man did in fact have a love for theological lore. Plus that the two men who lived there weren’t fan of furniture.
At most there was a couch and a couple of unsteady walls that acted like bedrooms, separating a couple of beds. What a weird place to live… Dean thought to himself. “Are you a Christian Dean?” He was caught off guard by the question and found himself stumbling over his words.
“Uh, no.” He said quietly. “I am agnostic.”
Castiel nodded. “That’s an interesting religion.” Dean frowned, he felt a bit uncomfortable around this man. He had just blatantly asked what religion he was then replied nonchalantly as if it was something everyone did every day. “Here,” He grabbed a handle and pushed a large door open to reveal a big workspace with paint everywhere, broken paintbrushes, and pieces of scrap metal. “I had put it here and when I woke up, it was gone.”
Dean made a mental note of the placement of the stolen item and thanked Castiel before letting the shorter man lead him back to the door. Gabriel was on the couch, sitting with one leg bent up and smirking at them rather strangely. Dean smiled at him awkwardly, and Gabriel popped a sucker into his mouth. The Winchester could barely keep himself from shuddering at the sight. “Well thank you Castiel, here’s my card just in case you have anything else to let me know.” He handed the black haired man a small white rectangle with a nod.
“Thank you Dean.” He opened the door and let Dean walk out. They shook hands; Dean bowed slightly, and made his way to his Impala. “Wait, Dean!” He turned to see Cas with his hands on his hips and his brows furrowed. “Pardon my appearance.” Dean almost went red as he saw that Cas had been in his boxers and a robe the entire time.
“Uh, its fine Cas, just call me if you find something out, okay?”
“Of course. Goodbye Dean.”
“See you later Cas.” He waved the man off who nodded and scurried back into his home. Dean Winchester shook his head as he climbed into his car and ran a hand through his hair. “Holy hell.”
- 1
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Promise Not To Tell Another Soul?