Inbox Memes | always accepting
GUEST : for one muse to offer the other a place to stay. | @bloodsalted
As infallible as the Impala was made out to be, there were roads it had no business navigating as well as it did. That winding stretch of dirt through the mountains was one of them. And yet, the car was still parked like a faithful servant outside a safehouse the boys were calling home for a bit. What better place to hold up, when the woods were the problem at hand. Close behind that rash of missing people and bloody remains was their second problem — no one had heard from Castiel in a while.
Texts? A long shot at best. Calls? Better odds, but still slim. The Winchesters were hidden from all angels, but that didn't mean their designated Seraph was quick to adapt to new technology. It was hard to convince a creature with unlimited telepathic abilities that cellphones were useful. Still, he had gotten better at checking in. Which was why this radio silence was growing harder to ignore. One way to reach the angel? Remember what he was, and pray. A message had gone out from the walls of that cabin, and it included a rough idea of where it was. There was far too much forest to cover without some guidance.
Outside, the nocturnal sounds that had echoed for hours suddenly ceased. A hush fell over the landscape, broken only by the rapid beat of several sets of wings taking flight. Through the window, a bit past the treeline, was the silhouette of a dark-haired man in a trench coat. He stood with his back to the cabin, still as death, which was as normal an occurrence for Castiel as any. The angel didn't react to the sound of bowed legs crunching leaves and twigs as he strode out into the night to collect his wayward angel. Everything said, including an offer to come inside, seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"Dean?"
Castiel's graveled voice called out, but far in the distance behind them. The noise carried past them both, along with the sound of rustling and twigs snapping, like something was making its uncertain way through the forest. "Dean, I'm here, where are you?"
"Dean." The man ahead of him spoke at last, but he did not move a muscle. All the hunter could see was the faint twitch of his jaw from behind. "I'm here."
