Mornings. Castiel had begun to appreciate them a little more in the years since he'd come to know Dean and Sam Winchester. They'd signified that the people he inexplicably cared about were alive and well, and that made him feel something that he didn't suppose he'd ever have been able to understand had he not possessed some ingrained curiosity in this little human race. He'd seen love, he'd seen war and hate and he wondered why they hated so much, and why no one could seem to get along.
A little like his family, if one put a little thought to it.
Castiel sat on a bench near the edge of the Grand Canyon as the first rays of light started filtering over the gorgeous reds and oranges of the vast expanses of rock and sand. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. It smelled old. This was something that had been here far before man or land life, and it would be here long after they were gone.
Mornings. They signified a little more than the start of a new day, they signified a second chance to right wrongs and heaven (especially Heaven) knew he had plenty of wrongs to right. Castiel slowly stood up as the sun crept over the massive ridges ahead, it filtered golden light over his vessel and not for the first or last time, he wondered what it was like to know true happiness. Castiel had thought he'd known it when the boys survived their many trips to hell, and purgatory. He'd thought he'd known true happiness when he'd found that Dean was still alive and more than kicking, and that was. He wondered what it was like to be loved, to know the love of a woman. The angel almost considered that...filth. The demon.
She called him Clarence, which, Dean had told him was the name of an angel in a Christmas story. He'd been confused, but... Castiel was always confused about the complexity of their odd little cultures. He watched as mighty condors soared on the warm thermals that lifted them high, and the angel smiled.
Mornings. They had their charms and Castiel whole-heartedly loved them.