AUTHOR'S NOTE - I really have no clue as to where this idea actually came from - I used this as an exercise to rid myself - hopefully - of a spot of writer's block I seem to have going on at the moment. *facepalm!*
I only hope that this actually makes sense, and that it did help to fend off the writers block - at least for a while ...
Castiel and the Pussycat of Doom.
The Angel Castiel was waiting patiently for the arrival of Dean Winchester, back at his motel room. The angel knew that Sam, Dean’s brother, was already inside the room, but it was not Sam he wished to talk to - it was Dean.
Patient as ever, he waited outside, as calmly and as patiently as ever, lounging on a park bench, looking no more harmless than an ordinary man, waiting for the arrival of his dinner date perhaps.
And then he got tagged by it - a large ginger tom cat, that came striding purposefully past, looking initially no more harmless than Castiel himself. The only indication that the cat was not, perhaps, normal, was the malignant gaze he bestowed upon the ever-patient angel.
Castiel took no notice - for, after all, what was a mere pussycat to him, an angel of the Lord?
He would have been a wise man, or indeed angel, if he had have taken notice of that damn cat, for the cat came back, with the same malignant gaze and feline grace.
The cat sat down in front of Castiel and bestowed the angel with an evil look.
“Hello, there, puss!” Castiel said, uncomfortably.
The cat continued to stare.
Castiel thereafter took no notice of the cat, working under the assumption that the cat would just leave.
The cat did not.
The cat continued to sit, to stare, and even to turn up its little pink nose at the beautiful angel sitting there. Castiel was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable under the kitty’s scrutiny.
“Go away, or I will smite you into feline Hell, I can do that, I’ll have you know,” Castiel said, to the cat, who looked distinctly unimpressed by the angelic threat.
“What do you want? I don’t have any food for you, if that’s what you want. I don’t have any food for me, or more aptly, the man I am currently possessing,” Castiel said, shifting uncomfortably on the park bench he was sitting on.
The cat continued to stare.
Castiel then attempted to stroke the cat, assuming, as you would, that the cat merely wanted to play, but the cat backed away, before it actually got up onto its hind feet, its front paws held out in front of its own body like it was cocking two guns.
“PEW PEW PEW!” the cat said, before it run off with an evil chuckle, leaving Castiel a very puzzled angel indeed.
Castiel went back to waiting for Dean, having nothing else to do, soon putting the creepy cat far from his mind.
But the cat came back, before Dean did.
Castiel soon moved away from the cat’s malignant gaze, but the cat inevitably followed him, to cock his paws at him again, and to scream - “PEW PEW PEW!” at him again.
Wherever Castiel went, the cat PEW PEW PEWed after him, until the angel was practically running around and around the park, the cat following him every step of the way, shooting his imaginary guns at the fleeing angel.
And that was the exact point in which Dean finally showed up, rolling up in his Impala, to find the normally calm angel fleeing for his very life from a small yet intimidating ginger cat, shooting at the much larger angel.
“DEEEEEEEEAAAANNNNN!!” Castiel howled on his way past the amused hunter. “HELP MEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Dean began to laugh at the beleaguered angel, before catching the cat on his way past, calling to the fleeing angel as he did so - “CASTIEL! COME BACK! THE KITTY IS CAUGHT!”
The angel stopped, distinctly out of breath, his wings showing up against the bright daylight in a drooping mess, as he staggered back to the grinning hunter, with a sweaty face and a slight frown.
“That bloody cat - what the hell’s the matter with it?” Castiel groused, as he scowled at the cat in question, which seemed quite content in Dean’s arms.
Dean stroked the cat, which now closed its eyes and started to purr. It certainly did not try to shoot Dean, like it had Castiel.
“Never in all my two thousand year plus of existence have I ever met such a beast as that one! What is it - is it possessed?” Castiel asked, glaring down at the cat again with a less than friendly gaze.
“I just don’t think he liked you, Cas!” Dean said. “He sure likes me, don’t you Puss?”
The cat purred louder, but cocked a squinty-eyed gaze at the puzzled angel.
“I don’t think he likes your feathers. Makes him all sneezy!” Dean continued.
“Whatever, Dean, just get him away from me. I need to talk to you about these 66 seals, and Lillith!” Castiel said, dismissively.
“Okey Dokey, Cas!” Dean said, cheekily, before shooing the cat away, who slunk off with one baleful glance back at the angel.
The angel ignored the kitty, which was never to be seen again by either of them, after that day...