Castiel was sitting on a bench on some abstract street in Albuquerque, New Mexico. No, he wasn't looking for God on a tortilla. He was pretty damn close to flipping over every last wrap and checking though. He thumbed Dean's amulet pensively as he sat under an overhang at a bus stop that barely offered shade from the scorching sun. It was a sweltering hundred degrees out, yet here he was, sitting in an overcoat, with a full suit on underneath. He reached up and wiped a single bead of sweat that accumulated on his brow. The angel stared at perspiration on his thumb. That wasn't a good sign. He looked out across the street before him, seeing the heat waves roll up from the hot pavement. A boy in a t-shirt and sagging pants sauntered past him, and the angel looked after him.
'Fuckin' bitch thinks she owns me-'
He receded from the young man's mind quickly. He didn't care what some human thought about his mother, not even an ingrate one.
Castiel rebelled against Heaven. It wasn't an easy decision to make, siding with humanity rather than his own family. But in the spur of the moment, it suddenly became the easiest decision he ever made. It wasn't to say that Castiel never regretted the choice he made, but he stuck to his guns, because... well, what other choice did he have? He screwed himself enough as it was. Though, the Winchesters did leave an impression on him. The angel did come to sympathize with their uncooperative demeanor. Everyone was better off without the Apocalypse, and once he realized this, he couldn't believe how absurd it really was to believe otherwise. It was actually early on that he realized this, but he only ever tested the fine line that divided right from wrong. Little hints to Sam and Dean, little nudges here and there, until he finally dared to take a leap of faith. This fateful tangent took the form of jailbreaking Dean from Zachariah's Greenroom. It was seconds before getting smote off the face of the earth by an enraged archangel that Castiel thought, 'Oh, damn them both—', despite having willingly put himself between Raphael and Dean.
He took that leap of faith—
And fell.
And fell.
And fell.
And now he was sweating.
'...What am I even doing?'
Just like that, Castiel whisked himself away, but not without startling a lone witness who would swear the rest of her life that she saw a very corporeal man in a tan coat vanish into thin air before her eyes. A gust of wind tossed said witness's hair, and kicked up loose litter with it.
While it would take a human many hours to travel by plane, Castiel found himself in Israel in a blink. He had already visited all of the holy sites he could think of, but it couldn't hurt to check again, could it? And afterthought came to him: Might as well nab another jar of holy oil while he was here. Squeezing the amulet tight in his hand, Castiel mingled with the bustling crowds. He stood out too sorely, just he did in New Mexico. He earned many-a bizarre look from native residents and the select few tourists alike. Well, there was one good thing about sweating. He'd be more inclined to feel the amulet scalding him when he got close now. But in the meantime, he'd just have to keep looking. So he did.
Castiel had just been surveying the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. He completely ignored the sign outside, conveniently staked outside, which stated in both Hebrew and English, "ANNOUNCEMENT and WARNING. According to the Torah it is forbidden for any person to enter the area of the Temple Mount due to its sacredness. -The Chief Rabbinate of Israel" Castiel normally would have respected this law, but not this time. He needed God, and if God smote him for intruding on a holy place, so be it. He needed to try.
But as Castiel was surveying one of the dark rooms, a sharp whisper came fleeing to him. The voice, a prayer, was urgent. The voice was familiar. Dean was in trouble. Castiel immediately abandoned the Temple.