His mind was buzzing with the task he was set on. His head, heavy. And he had to cut himself off from heaven. Entirely. He wasn’t even sure Dean’s prayers would reach him – and the thought pained him, but his hands were firmly curled around the tablet during his whole travel. It was there, sitting on his lap where he could feel it.
There he was, depending on touch, and smell and human matters of orientation. He got out of the bus at some stop which name he liked – Topanga Canyon – and where no one else was getting out of the big vehicle. This had been the way he had been traveling through the entirety of the country, from stinking, slow, loud, annoying, mass-transporting vehicle to the other.
He glanced up at the trees. A resort was close. A village. Nature. Castiel liked it here. But he knew he couldn’t remain. So he started walking, off the road and into the forest, keeping close to the small pathway to the village, where he would be able to watch the people and maybe find a next stop to travel to.
But as he wandered through green, and the perfect silence of nature, that wasn’t really silence if you listened closely, he heard a rustle of wings that didn’t belong to a friendly bird. Immediately on alert, he spun around……….to see his younger sibiling’s face. “Samandriel.” he breathed, regret and guilt immediately seeping back into the pit of his stomach. He had killed him. Was he there to haunt him? Could angels haunt their murderers? His arms wrapped tighter around the tablet, and he took a few quick steps back. “Your entire presence is impossible.” he said, stiffly and stopped so he didn’t stumble over fallen twigs.