That night, I attempted to sleep in the small guest bedroom that was provided for me, though I very soon found that I could not. Whether it was due to the uncomfortable clothing I was forced to wear, from the building known as a "mental institution", or the fear that I could not seem to quell, or perhaps it was the odd material from which the bed was made. The plain and simple truth was; sleep was quite impossible.

I sat up, growing quite tired of not being tired at all. I decided to go out into the library. I thought I might as well do something if not sleep. I did my best to be quiet, as I didn't want to make too much noise. I began searching for a book, any book really. I just had to read something. I soon found a book of poetry by Emily Dickinson. I believe I had read some of her work back in Malonesia.

"Pink, small, and punctual," it began with a poem entitled "Mayflower".

"Aromatic, low,

Covert in April,

Candid in May,

Dear to the moss,

Known by the knoll,

Next to the robin

In every human soul.

Bold little beauty,

Bedecked with thee,

Nature forswears

Antiquity."

Her writing was so eloquently sweet, and I fell in love at first glance. All these little poems were filled with such beautiful words that almost seemed to glow. I sat at a table and continued reading these beautiful masterpieces.

"THE murmur of a bee

A witchcraft yieldeth me.

If any ask me why,

'T were easier to die

Than tell.

The red upon the hill

Taketh away my will;

If anybody sneer,

Take care, for God is here,

That's all.

The breaking of the day

Addeth to my degree;

If any ask me how,

Artist, who drew me so,

Must tell!"

"Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?

But I could never sell.

If you would like to borrow

Until the daffodil

Unties her yellow bonnet

Beneath the village door,

Until the bees, from clover rows

Their hock and sherry draw,

Why, I will lend until just then,

But not an hour more!"

Then came my favorite; Psalm Of The Day.

"A something in a summer's day,

As slow her flambeaux burn away,

Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon, --

An azure depth, a wordless tune,

Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night

A something so transporting bright,

I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face,

Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace

Flutter too far for me.

The wizard-fingers never rest,

The purple brook within the breast

Still chafes its narrow bed;

Still rears the East her amber flag,

Guides still the sun along the crag

His caravan of red,

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,

But never deemed the dripping prize

Awaited their low brows;

Or bees, that thought the summer's name

Some rumor of delirium

No summer could for them;

Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred

By tropic hint, -- some travelled bird

Imported to the wood;

Or wind's bright signal to the ear,

Making that homely and severe,

Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came,

To lives that thought their worshipping

A too presumptuous psalm."

I read many of these poems, captivated by every syllable. I read until I realized I was getting quite tired, but even then I read more. I found that I didn't want to sleep. All I wanted was to read Emily Dickinson.

The last poem I read before I dozed off went;

"There is a flower that bees prefer,

And butterflies desire;

To gain the purple democrat

The humming-birds aspire.

And whatsoever insect pass,

A honey bears away

Proportioned to his several dearth

And her capacity.

Her face is rounder than the moon,

And ruddier than the gown

Of orchis in the pasture,

Or rhododendron worn.

She doth not wait for June;

Before the world is green

Her sturdy little countenance

Against the wind is seen,

Contending with the grass,

Near kinsman to herself,

For privilege of sod and sun,

Sweet litigants for life.

And when the hills are full,

And newer fashions blow,

Doth not retract a single spice

For pang of jealousy.

Her public is the noon,

Her providence the sun,

Her progress by the bee proclaimed

In sovereign, swerveless tune.

The bravest of the host,

Surrendering the last,

Nor even of defeat aware

When cancelled by the frost."

~

I slowly became aware of my own consciousness, realizing I had fallen asleep in the library. It had been years since I'd fallen asleep reading a good work of literature.

I heard voices around me, momentarily unsure of who they were. I soon recognized Sam and Dean's voices, but I knew not who the third voice could have been. He spoke with a deep, sultry voice, and that was all I knew.

"It's unclear whether or not the two events are connected," The deep voice spoke. "Though judging by what we have seen of the Darkness, I would not be surprised."

"Yeah, but why would the Darkness need an enchantress with no mojo?" Dean asked.

"Perhaps she doesn't need an enchantress in particular. Perhaps she simply needs her."

"But why Gwen?" Sam asked, and I was tempted to correct him, but I would not wish to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't know. Right now, everything is a bit unclear."

I was not certain of what they spoke of, but whatever it could have been sounded like it wasn't good. I knew not what this "Darkness" was, but it what it was doing was most likely very serious. With a name such as the Darkness, it was clearly a force to be reckoned with.

"Let's just hope we can deal with it before things do get worse."

I was unsure whether or not I could handle much more of their conversation. I sat up and stretched my arms, making it clear that I had awoken. I looked around until my eyes met the bluest pair that I'd ever had the privilege to see.

"Who might you be?" I asked the man who possessed said eyes.

"This is Cas," Dean introduced. "Cas, this is Gwendolyn. The enchantress."

"I've heard much about you," Cas spoke with his sultry voice.

Something told me that there was more to this man than met the eye. "Alright. What might you be?"

He tilted his head to one side, clearly confused. "Pardon?"

"I can tell when someone's not human, I've spent much of my life learning to discern between man and beast. So, what manner of beast would you be?"

"I am an angel of The Lord." He replied monotonously.

This surprised me, for I have never met an angel. I was unaware even of their existence. "An angel? I would have imagined angels to be more... grand. Not a simple man in an overcoat. But then, I suppose your eyes would strike one as... angelic." I gave a small smile, looking into his oceanic eyes as he returned the grin.

"Cas was just helping us figure out what's going on," Dean said.

"I see. And what have you concluded?"

"We've concluded that... we have no idea what's going on."

"There could be some witchcraft involved," Sam spoke up. "Apparently, there was a bit of rivalry amongst the cast. There were two other girls who wanted to be the Enchantress; well, you. And I'm thinking maybe this is some sort of revenge."

"And I don't think it holds water." Dean shrugged.

"Neither do I," Cas began. "This seems too elaborate for a simple witch."

"There is no simplicity when it comes to witch-kind," I countered. "I know this, my sister is one."

"Well, after we finished talking to you, we talked to everyone who was there the night that you... showed up. And these girls, Janice and Kirsten, they both seemed pretty... vengeful," Sam explained. "It could be a lead."

"Well, I say we investigate it further," I suggested.

"'We'?" Dean repeated. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

"Well, I would like to make a contribution to the investigation. After all, it is me you are investigating, is it not?"

"Be that as it may, you're staying here while we go down there to investigate."

I saw not how this was fair. "But I would like to be useful in some way!"

"You can stay here with Cas and do research or something."

This caught the angel's attention. "I thought I would accompany you."

"Why does everyone suddenly wanna go hunting?" Dean asked incredulously. "You two stay here so we have at least someone at home base. You'll be here in case we need something or if we run into trouble."

"I still find this to be unfair." I murmured.

"Well suck it up, princess."

"I am not a princess!" I snapped. "I am an enchantress."

"Potato, patato." He replied, leaving me confused yet again. These strange phrases made my head spin.

I sighed deeply in frustration. "Fine. When will you be leaving?"

"Well, actually, right now."

I did not wish to hear this response. "What? Right now?" I stood up and approached Dean, who was making his way to the "garage". "I do not wish to be alone with this... strange angel. Anything but that."

I saw his offended look out of my peripheral view. "I am right here, you know."

I glanced in his direction. "Yes, I am aware. There is no need to point it out."

Dean grinned briefly. "Trust me, I think you two will hit it off."

I gave Dean a look of confusion. "Hit what off?"

"Oh yeah. You'll get along great."

"But... I do not know him."

"Well, you didn't know me and Sam either, until you spent time with us. See that's how making friends works."

I noticed his sarcasm and did not appreciate it. "I am not about to 'make friends', I just want to go home. What's the point of making friends if I will simply leave them forever?"

He sighed lightly. "Just... play nice." And he walked out the door.

"Don't worry," Sam spoke from behind me. "We'll be back before you know it." And he left as well.

A sigh blew past my lips as I turned to face this peculiar angel. "So... I see we have been abandoned. Lucky us."

"Don't worry. They'll return." He tried to reassure me.

"Not soon enough, I guarantee." I returned to my table and read more Emily Dickinson as I sulked, wishing there was a way to read myself out of this situation.