Reason?

Harry sat forward, inhaling deeply and settling into a yawn before he could help himself. "Sorry, guys," he mumbled while rubbing his heavy eyes. "I should've called."

"No, no. It's fine," Hermione assured him as she set a cup of tea on the coffee table. Ron stayed standing, still half-asleep considering it was six in the morning on a Saturday. They had woken up to the doorbell no more than two minutes ago. "Drink up."

Harry took the cup in his hands gratefully and sipped on the honeyed beverage. "I couldn't stay in the house," he confessed.

"The paintings again?" Ron frowned.

"No… Something else."

"Go on," Hermione urged him. "What happened?"

Harry stared at the hypnotic movement of the golden tea, trying not to panic as he remembered. "It sounds… ridiculous if I say it out loud."

"Try me."

He didn't know where to start. "When I was in the hospital, I had these… weird dreams," he said. "Like an out-of-body experience, you know? I somehow knew that I was in trouble and… I don't know. I can't remember a lot of it." He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense though. It's just a dream. I thought it was just a dream."

"Haven't got all day," Ron interjected, earning a scathing glare from his wife.

"An angel saved me."

Silence followed that reveal.

Harry hazarded a glance up to find his best friends staring at him expressionless. "Ridiculous, huh?" he said weakly.

"An angel?" Hermione echoed. "Saved you from what?"

"… Death."

"Oh."

"Wait a second." Ron held up a finger. "You're being serious?"

"I think so…" Harry gripped the cup tighter. "Wings and all. I couldn't fight after some time. I wasn't strong enough. I nearly gave up too. But I didn't end up dying after all. I just woke up."

Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder. "Take a breath."

He clicked his tongue. He felt like his breaths were numbered at this point. "It was supposed to be a dream." He sighed. "Look, if I thought it was important, I would have told you. The thing is, it happened again last night. I saw the angel again and what if…" He trailed off.

"You think you're going to die," Ron realized.

"I don't know," Harry blurted out. "I don't know what to think!"

Hermione waved them both down. "Harry." She cupped his face in her hands. "How long has it been since you slept?"

He tried to shake her off. "It doesn't matter-"

"You're exhausted." She was stern with him. It was the only way to get him to listen. "Sleep for a few hours, alright? We'll talk later. Sleep here. The kids won't wake up for another three hours."

"I couldn't possibly."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'll grab the bed sheet and pillows." He shuffled out while scratching his head.

Harry begrudgingly admitted to himself that perhaps he should be grateful for his accommodating friends. "It's probably nothing, right?" He had to keep that thought in his mind or he would just keep thinking about morbid things.

"Probably." Hermione smiled at him. "You're going to be alright. You're working too hard, that's all. We've hardly seen you these past two months."

"Hmm."

"So… Does she have a name?"

Harry tilted his head in puzzlement. "Who?"

"Your angel. Did she give a name?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Oh." He managed a dry smirk. "I guess I can't even dream right. Um, his name is Castiel."

The whip of cloth by the doorway was an all too familiar sound.

Harry dropped his cup of tea while Hermione glanced back in fright.

"Hello," Castiel said with a cordial nod.

"Oh my," she breathed as she stood up.

Harry was frantically patting at his drenched pants and shirt. "You can see him?" he stammered.

"Of course." Hermione looked Castiel up and down. "You are the angel?"

"Hmm. Yes." Castiel was too busy examining the room with rapidly flitting eyes to notice her keen gaze. "And you are Harry's friend."

"I am…"

He finally looked at her. "I've been watching." He narrowed his eyes when he noticed Harry floundering behind her. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, um, y-yes." Harry struggled to his feet. He wasn't going crazy after all. That wasn't much a relief. "Oh boy." He suddenly felt lightheaded. He sat back down while pressing his hands to his eyes. This was really happening. It wasn't just in his head. "Sorry…"

Castiel exhaled quietly, his shoulders slumping a hint, before brushing past Hermione to walk to Harry. He sat down on the coffee table opposite the distraught wizard. "What's wrong?"

"I thought it was a dream…"

"Then you have nothing to be sorry about."

In the meantime, Ron was gawking at the exchange he had walked in on. He held the bed sheets and pillows against his chest and stood behind his wife, both of them scrutinizing their newest guest. "So that's…"

"Yes."

"He doesn't really look…"

"No, he doesn't."

"So… What's going on…?"

"I don't know."

Harry rested his trembling hands on his lap, unsure whether he should really be asking this question. He might not want to hear the answer. "Why are you here now?" he asked haltingly.

"To persuade you."

"Persuade me to do what?"

"Stop tempting Death."

His jaw dropped.

"This work you do," Castiel continued, "it is fraught with danger. For all we know, Death is waiting for another opportunity to test you."

"The work I do?" Harry echoed.

"You are hurt."

He looked down at himself in bewilderment. "I am?" He didn't see anything awful.

Castiel let out a frustrated breath before tapping Harry's arm. "Here. Remember?" He was pointing out the knife wound hidden under a light bandage.

"That?" Harry was dismissive. "That's nothing." He had fared much, much worse. "Just a scratch."

Castiel pursed his lips and frowned, causing the young wizard to gulp. "You had just gotten better and now you have hurt yourself again," he admonished. "It worries me. I want you to stop risking your life now."

"… I beg your pardon?"

"I want you to stop."

"But that's… that's not possible."

"Why not?"

Harry glanced at his friends for some help, but they just shook their head nervously instead of backing him up. He was floundering here. How was he supposed to go up against an angel? Was that blasphemy? Would some smiting be involved? "Because it's my job?" he wavered. "Um… I'm good at it, so…" He didn't know what else to say.

"Do you have any idea how foolish you sound?" Castiel all but snapped. "I stopped the Reaper. You owe your life to me."

Startled, Harry paled when the temperature in the room dropped.

Without another word, the angel disappeared, a sharp crack echoing in his wake.

"Dean."

Dean whipped around, his rifle following him. The barrel knocked into Castiel's arm. "Jesus Christ!" he hissed in fright. "What the hell?!" He glanced at Sam who was hiding behind a dusty bookshelf. They were moments away from getting to the djinn that had stepped into the backroom to check up on its dreaming victims. Dean was supposed to distract it with buckshot and then Sam would stab it with his silver knife. That was before Castiel's abrupt arrival.

Sensing the brothers' tension, Castiel didn't speak.

Seconds later, the djinn walked out, eyes slowly shifting from electric blue to brown.

"Now!" Dean spun into view and shot it square in the chest.

Stunned, the djinn hardly had time to react before Sam rushed in, killing it with a quick jerk of his knife.

Now that the formalities were out of the way, Castiel decided it was time for him to speak. "If I asked you to give up this life, would you?" he wanted to know.

Dean clenched his jaw and tried for a moment to garner some patience. But it eluded him. So he turned angrily to face the angel. "We are hunting, Cas!" he barked. "Don't interrupt us when we hunt! For God's sake, you could have gotten us killed!"

Castiel was taken aback. "I would never get you killed."

Dean swore under his breath and stalked away to help the people in the backroom. Sam had already collected the djinn's blood in syringes so they could inject it into the hallucinating victims and wake them up. Castiel followed them in. He hadn't gotten his answer yet. He wasn't going to leave without it.

"What do you mean 'give up'?" Sam asked as he undid the ropes on a pale young woman.

"If I asked you to stop hunting, would you?" Castiel clarified for them. "Could I persuade you to stop?"

"Nope," Dean said simply.

"Why?"

"Because this is what we do." He wasn't in the mood for this heart-to-heart chat. "Someone's gotta do it." He injected the djinn's blood into the woman's arm.

"I have saved your life countless times, haven't I? Even then you wouldn't stop if I asked you?"

He scoffed. "Look, man. You saved my life for a reason. You wanted me to fight."

"I see…"

"Besides, from where I'm standing, I'd say we're even. You've helped us, we've helped you-"

"What's this about?" Sam interrupted his brother. "Did something happen?"

"No." With that Castiel vanished, leaving the Winchesters to clean up.

"World-class ass," Dean mumbled under his breath.