"Because I could not stop for Death

He kindly stopped for me

The carriage held but just ourselves

And immortality.

We slowly drove--He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For his civility

We passed the school, where children strove

At recess--in the ring

We passed the fields of gazing grain

We passed the setting sun

Or rather--He passed us

The dews drew quivering and chill

For only gossamer, my gown

My tippet--only tulle

We paused before a house that seemed

A swelling of the ground

The roof was scarcely visible

The cornice--in the ground

Since then--'tis centuries--and yet

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses' heads

Were toward eternity."

I read Emily Dickinson because she knew just how to speak to me. She was the only one who seemed to. All the others I have met do not seem to speak properly, the way I do. But I was certain that Miss Dickinson would appreciate my manner of speech.

"What are you reading?" The angel asked from the table behind me.

"Miss Emily Dickinson," I turned my head to look at him. "I don't suppose you know her work?"

He gave a small smile. "'Hope' is the thing with feathers," He began to recite one of her poems.

"That perches in the soul.

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the Gale is heard

And sore must be the storm.

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest sea.

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me."

I was rather impressed by such a flawless delivery of such a flawless piece of poetry. "Oh," I smiled. "So, you do know her work."

"Yes. Some time ago, an angel infused me with knowledge about many works of literature. Including Emily Dickinson."

"Another angel? What was he like?"

"Metatron. He was..." He gave it some thought. "An ass."

I laughed at his choice of words, and his smile grew. "The words in this world are very strange to me. I am not even sure what an 'ass' is."

"It could mean someone who is bad and you don't generally like, or it could be a synonym for a posterior."

I understood now. "Oh. Well, I shall keep that in mind."

This angel, Cas, was quite a puzzle. And I loved a good puzzle. I stood up and sat across from him at his table. "You fascinate me to no end, Cas. Especially that name. I've never met one with such a name as that."

"It is a shortened version of Castiel."

I found this humorous as I remembered something from back home. "Oh. Castiel?" I tried not to laugh.

He noticed my amusement and seemed confused. "What is it?"

I started giggling quietly, unable to hold it in. He became even more puzzled. "What do you find so humorous?"

I calmed myself down so I could explain. "Back home, there is an ogre, hideous beast. And its name was Cassiel. And now I am comparing you to Cassiel, and-" I laughed more, finding that I could not control it.

"So there is an ogre in your world, and he has a name similar to mine?"

I shook my head. "No. She does."

This caused him to smile, starting to see the humor. "It is a female?"

I nodded, trying to suppress my laughter. I wasn't sure why it was this amusing, perhaps it was just the look on his face. "I'm sorry, it should not be this humorous, I am not sure why it is causing so much laughter."

"Perhaps you just find it humorous thinking of me in the form of a female ogre."

This made me laugh even more. "Stop, Castiel! Now I am imagining Cassiel in an overcoat!"

He simply chuckled. "Okay, I will stop now." (A/n: yes please stop im cringing)

"Why do you have an overcoat?" I wondered.

"I am possessing a vessel, and he was wearing an overcoat. Well, a different overcoat, but I had to replace it. And I... actually kind of miss it."

I smiled small. "I see. So, those blue eyes of yours, they aren't really yours?"

A grin played at his lips. "I suppose not."

"That's a shame. Because I kind of like them."

I looked into his eyes as his smile grew. There was only a moment's pause before I spoke again. "So, do you think an angel brought me here?"

"It's difficult to say. So far, it could have been anything."

"Or witches."

"I very much doubt that is true."

"I don't. There is a very good possibility that a Wicca is behind all this. She would have to be quite powerful, however. And dark. Like my sister."

He seemed intrigued. "Your sister is a dark witch?"

"Yes. It happened many years ago. My father took it out on himself. He thought it to be his own fault."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. It was her own stupid mistake. Practicing witchcraft while I learned true magics from the most powerful sorcerer known to mankind. Or, at least, that's what he called himself."

"Who was your father?"

"Merlin. Have you heard of him?"

"Perhaps. The name sounds familiar."

I sighed sharply. "Alright. So, we know nothing about anything with the power to bring me here?"

"It's possible that it was an angel. I've been looking into it."

"And what have you found? Anything of import?"

"Not much. Nothing that relates to 'king of demons', that is."

"Who is this king, do you suppose?"

That question seemed to make him think. "That would be a good place to start."

I gave him an incredulous look. "You mean to tell me that you haven't bothered looking into the Latin incantation yet?"

He seemed quite sheepish. "I suppose we haven't."

I sighed deeply. "Find me your demon books. We've got quite a bit of research ahead of us."

~

"'Ashmedai, the king of demons'." I finally found something that would give us an indication of why I was here. "It specifically says 'king of demons'."

"What else does it say?" Castiel asked.

"Ashmedai, or Asmodeus, was supposed by certain Renaissance Christians to be the 'King of the Nine Hells'. He is also referred to as one of the seven princes of Hell. This is definitely a lead."

"But why would he need you? That is the question."

I read something that made my head hurt a little. "Oh dear."

"What is it?"

I looked him directly in the eye. "Each of the seven princes represents one of the seven deadly sins."

"Which sin is represented by Ashmedai?"

"Ah... he represents... lust."

This made things uncomfortable for both of us. "What does that mean exactly?"

"Ashmedai... twists one's sexual desires. Making them have intercourse with... anyone, I suppose."

I noticed his cheeks began to redden. "Oh. I see."

"But... I would never... with any of you."

"Of course not. And I am sure none of us would... with you, either." He cleared his throat, clearly experiencing discomfort.

"Of course. Never."

There was nothing but silence for a moment as we stared at each other. I tried to think of what to say but ended up without words. Until I finally spoke. "Shouldn't Sam and Dean have returned by now?"

"Yes!" He replied quickly. "Yes, they should have. What time is it?"

"I am not sure. Is there a sundial outside by chance?"

He seemed confused by my question. "A sundial?"

"Yes. You are familiar with them, correct?"

"Yes, they haven't been used for centuries."

Now I was confused. "Then how do you tell time?"

"Clocks. Such as that one." He pointed to a strange circular device covered in numbers from one to twelve. There were strange sticks pointing to them as well.

"That is a... clock? A time telling device?"

"Yes. And it is currently 6:40."

I looked to him in wonderment. "You can tell all this by simply looking at the... number dish?"

"It takes learning, but yes."

"Teach me, then. I believe it would be helpful to know what the time of day is."

He considered for a moment before answering. "Alright. See the numbers? And see the dashed lines in between each of them?"

I saw what he meant. "Yes. Four of each."

"Correct. The numbers represent hours, and the lines represent minutes. Now, see the hands?"

I saw no hands, only numbers, dashed lines, and sticks. "What hands? Why are there human hands in a time telling device?"

He sighed lightly. "They are not real hands, that is just their name. I am starting to see what it was like for Dean when he was teaching me these things."

"Where are the hands?" I asked.

"They are the... pointy things."

I then understood. "Oh, I see."

"The two hands represent hours and minutes as well. The smaller hand represents hours, while the longer one represents minutes."

"Okay, I believe I understand. The dashed lines and the larger hand correlate, just as the numbers and the smaller hand do."

"Yes. And the trickier part is telling the time."

"Actually, I believe I understand. It is akin to a mechanized sundial. And the current time is a quarter until seven, correct?"

He grinned slightly. "Correct."

I smiled at my achievement. "Oh. Good. I am glad that I learned something from you."

His smile grew. "And I am glad that I could teach you something."

We spent a bit more time looking into one another's eyes until the garage door opened, Sam and Dean walking in with strange looking bags in hand. I enjoyed spending this time alone with Castiel, but I was glad to see them.

I eagerly approached them. "I've learned to tell time! On a 'clock'! Fantastic, isn't it?"

Sam gave a small smile. "Yeah, that's great. So, did you do any research while we were gone?"

"We did. We found a king of demons that makes me uncomfortable."

"Why does it make you uncomfortable?" Dean asked.

"Because this demon makes you have sex," Castiel responded from behind me, and I nodded along with him.

I could see that the boys understood. "Oh. Yeah, that would make some people... uncomfortable. Well, hopefully this demon also provides a condom." Dean chuckled weakly.

I was confused. "What is a condom?"

There was an uncomfortable pause before Dean spoke. "We brought food. Tell me, is there bacon in Melanesia?"

"It is Malonesia! You must emphasize the 'a' sound at the beginning! Malonesia."

"Right. So, bacon?" He walked past me and set the bags on one of the tables.

"What is this bacon of which you speak?" I asked.

"Had a feeling. Trust me, it's practically made by the gods."

"I wouldn't say that." Sam disagreed.

"Yeah, yeah, go eat your salad, you vegan."

"There are salads in Malonesia," I recalled eating salad from time to time back home.

"Figures. You don't have bacon, but you do have rabbit food."

"It's not rabbit food, Dean." Sam continued to argue.

"Dude. Lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, I can definitely see Bugs Bunny eating this stuff."

"Rabbits don't eat tomatoes." He countered.

"I'm sorry, but what is a 'Bugs Bunny'?" I interrupted. "Is that, by chance, a hybrid of insect and rabbit?"

"No, it's a cartoon character." Dean grinned. "You know, you're a lot like Cas."

I found myself confused again. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh my god, she is," Sam spoke.

"How am I like Castiel?"

"Yes, Dean, that is a good question," Castiel spoke up.

"Oh, come on, you guys. First of all, she doesn't understand our customs very well, like you. Secondly, she'd never understand any of my references, like you. Also, she had powers that were beyond human, until they were taken from her, like what happened to you. See? Two peas in a pod."

He made excellent points, and there was no arguing. I suppose Castiel and I were quite similar.

I cleared my throat and hoped to move on from this subject. "Now, Dean, you spoke of 'bacon'?"

He seemed to remember the food and reached into the bag. "Have you ever heard of a burger?"

"No," I replied simply.

"Of course not. Well," He pulled what I assumed was a "burger" from the bag, wrapped in some kind of covering. "You need to try one."

He handed me the burger, which I managed to unwrap from the covering. "And this contains 'bacon', I assume?"

"Bacon, cheese, burger, and it's all contained between two buns. And it tastes awesome."

I was a bit hesitant, but I took a bite. And I was unsure of what the word "awesome" meant, but if it meant something good, then that word would be most appropriate. "I enjoy the taste of this burger. There is much flavor, and it is very good."

"Well good. Then you and I have something in common."

I felt that today was a day well spent. "Well. This is great, is it not? I've learned to tell time, I've read some more Emily Dickinson, we might be one step closer to finding out why I'm here, and I have tried my very first burger. There is just one thing."

"What's that?" Sam inquired.

"I need better clothing." They seemed to notice I was still wearing my mental institution clothing.

"Right. That."

"I could take you to find some proper attire," Castiel volunteered. "If you would like."

I smiled small, fancying the idea of spending more time with this angel. "I would like that."

"Let me just make one thing clear," Dean declared. "You're not taking my car."

"I know. I have a car of my own now."

"Yeah, that's right, the 'pimpmobile'." Dean grinned.

Castiel did not look amused. "Would you kindly stop calling it that?"

"Hey, don't get me wrong, it's cool and everything, but why that car?"

"I like it, Dean!"

"Guys!" Sam interrupted. "Grow up."

"Come along, Castiel," I smiled. "It is time for us to shop."