ashxnfeathers:
It’s not so much the demons he’s concerned about, as it’s the hellhounds. In high numbers, they presented a considerable problem when his garrison laid siege to Hell. And that was back when he had all his grace (back when his wings still worked).
“Is any of those places near your mother’s hideout?”
No offense to Crowley’s expensive tastes, but Castiel would rather not stay in this small, vulnerable form any longer than what’s strictly necessary.
For as much as he’s loathed to admit, he had kept tabs on his mother’s whereabouts for the past few months. She’d fallen back onto previous habits; rich lovers, richer estates. Finding the one and then being dumped for the tryst she always seemed to be.
It was a pattern that had repeated over and over again.
With a lift of his hand and a snap of his fingers, they’re in a well furnished suite overlooking the snow capped mountain range of Aspen. He stalks to the minibar and picks out a few refreshments for himself, completely ignoring the scenery outside of large picture windows.
“She’s been pretending to be a ski bunny in the company of some tycoon with two more years on his contract.” He turns, offering up a glass of scotch to the fledgling.
