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Every prophecy is a mirror. Every mirror, a flame.
He looked into both and found himself staring back.
This is not a story of what was foretold—
but of what could not be stopped.
The rain is like a cold balm on his soul. It calms the violent turmoil in him and douses the fire burning inside him. His lungs expand smother and slower as the the rain quiets his thoughts.
The rain falls onto the pavement in the abandoned alley. The sound of the rain drops falling is the only thing the man can hear. He is the only one in the alley and the only thing that lights his way is the sign near the end.
It's glowing blue and it says Fortune Telling - Come and Take a Look into your Future. He has been trying to find this shop all day and he has finally done so.
He starts walking towards the sign. He needs to find out what is so wrong with it. All of the victims had visited this particular shop just few days before they died. There needs to be something or someone who has been killing them.
He slowly opens the door, making the bell above it ring softly. He scoffs. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. But it's too late now.
The man behind the desk lifts his head and smiles at him. His eyes are blue like the cleanest ocean surface, but he can see a drop of darkness in them as well.
There's a sign near one of his hands that says: Castiel, Fortune Teller. He has been heard of that name, but he would be damned if he didn't find something.
"You are late, Dean Winchester." Castiel says, voice certain.
Dean' eyes widen and cold shiver passes down his back.
“You got a thing for dramatic entrances, or do you tell that to everybody?” he replies, only a slight trembling in his voice shows his nerves.
“I don’t tell,” the man replies. “I see.”
The hunter walks closer to him. He already sees cards spread on the table before the man.
“Yeah? Then you see the people who visited you last week and wound up dead?”
Castiel’s gaze doesn't waver.
“They came seeking truth. Truth is rarely survivable.”
Dean leans on the table, close enough for the candles to throw gold across the stubble on his jaw.
“Cut the cryptic crap. You feeding them poison, or what?”
Castiel' eyes doesn't leave his and Dean feels like he is trying to look right into his soul. He looks away, not wanting to be exposed like that.
“Sit,” Castiel says softly. “Let me show you.”
Dean almost laughs, but something in the man’s voice makes him obey the order.
He sits down.
Castiel turns over three cards: The Tower. The Moon. Death.
“Your path ends the same way it began,” he murmurs without hesitation.
Dean snorts.
“You fortune tellers and your recycled material.”
“You were born in fire,” Castiel says. “It waits for you still.”
The words hit like cold water. Dean pushes back his chair.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Castiel’s eyes flicker, and for a second Dean swears the candlelight bends toward him.
“Believe what you wish. The future doesn’t need your faith.”
----------
Back in the motel room, Dean checkes the victim files once again. He sits on his bed and takes the first file in his hands. It gets opened slowly, even though he knows what he is going to see. Photos upon photos, all showing the same scene.
Middle aged woman was found dead in front of her mirror, strangulation marks on her neck. The problem is that she was home alone, the house was locked and there was no forced entry.
Dean turns the page and looks at next picture. It was written on the woman' arm, almost like burned in it: 'Your shadow will betray you.'
He doesn't know what happened, only that something other, something supernatural must have killed her.
Dean closes the first file and puts it next to him. He takes the second file and opens it. The second victim is even more peculiar. The old man was found dead in his bathtub which would indicate drowning. But the strange thing was that the bathtub was filled with saltwater.
He also had a fortune telling burnt into his skin: 'You will drown in secrets.' Well, the man obviously drowned, but why in saltwater as the nearest ocean is hundred miles away from the town.
Dean closes the second file as well. It's too much of a coincidence to be just an accident. He knows that Castiel has something to do with it. But how will he make him confess?
And there’s something about him that doesn’t feel human — his stillness, the faint hum in the air when he speaks.
----------
The next day, Dean walks into the shop once again. The room smells like sage and storm air. Candles flicker. Castiel’s eyes seem to see too much and they keep starring into Dean's soul.
Dean doesn't bother to come any closer to him. He knows that Castiel is something other, but he doesn't know what and that scares him to the core.
"Who are you really?" he asks, voice trembling slightly.
Castiel doesn't bother answering his question, not really. He just gives him another message.
"Someone who has seen too much."
Dean scoffs. He was looking for answers, not other cryptic crap.
"Join the club, man. You are not the only one who has seen too much."
Castiel stands up from the chair. Dean feels his body stiffen in fear, his lungs breathe in the much precious air and he takes a step back.
Thunder makes the ground shake and the lighting illuminates the inside of the shop for a few seconds. But it's enough time, to see the truth about Castiel.
Dean catches a glimpse of something impossible in Castiel’ reflection — burning wings, shadows that don’t belong to the light.
----------
By nightfall Dean is back at the shop. The street is empty, air heavy with ozone. Inside, the candles are still burning, untouched. The table is waiting, no one sitting behind it. A single card lies facedown.
Dean comes closer to it and turns it over. His name is scrawled across the top: 'Dean Winchester — Your future ends the same way it began.'
A low hum fills the room. The air becomes electric and Dean feels his hair standing up. The curtains shiver though there is no wind.
“Looking for me?”
Castiel stands in the doorway, coat dark with rain. Behind him, thunder rolls
“You set this up?”
Dean demands.
“You killing these people?”
Castiel steps forward.
“No. They saw their deaths and ran straight into them. I only held the mirror.”
“Yeah? And what am I supposed to see?”
Castiel’s eyes catches the lightning.
“Fire. But not death—rebirth.”
The candles flare white-hot. The air becomes thick with smoke and Dean starts coughing. Everything around him is getting eaten by the hungry flames, the floor, the walls and the very oxygen that he needs to breathe.
Heat slams into Dean, almost igniting his clothes. He steps back, towards the only place where the fire hasn't reached yet. He runs towards the window, his hands shielding his face from the glass. The glass breaks under his weight and he is falling for what feel like hours, when in reality, it's only been a few seconds, before he falls onto the wet pavement.
When he recovers and looks up, the shop is an inferno. Silhouetted in the flames, Castiel stands perfectly still, wings—impossible, dark—rising against the firelight.
And between two blinks of an eye, he is gone.
----------
After the firefighters doused the flames, Dean stands outside, watching the ashes drift. He feels that strange pull — like fate just brushed past him.
He finds one last fortune card in his pocket, though he never put it there.
“The future can change. But only if you believe it can.”
Dean tucks it into his jacket and gets in his car. The Impala’s engine growls to life. Rain starts again, washing the soot from the road as he drives away, headlights cutting through the smoke.
Behind him, the last of the fire hisses out, leaving only steam and silence.