A/N: Welcome everybody! To my new story. I've decided that Classic Cliches is meant for another time. I can't write something so mindless right now. It's bad. I'll post it eventually. I got this idea during my calculus homework (again) and I just...need to write it. I don't know where it's heading, so this will be another adventure. No idea what the genre is yet. But it will be Destiel. Join me, now, to the magnificent other world of fiction. -Pyxie

This sound is blue, so blue. Comfortable and warm, despite its being a cool colour. That sound is red. Loud and blinding. The sound of a crowd is something else. A mixture of different colours, creating swirls and blocks of colour. As overwhelming as it can become, strangely enough, it's beautiful.

Castiel feels plastered to the park bench he's on as he sees the colours the sounds of the waves makes. Never has he been this close to a waterfall, and never will he again. So letting this moment slip by would be a huge mistake. He lets the feeling seep into every fibre of his being and there he rests, letting it take a hold of him and he closes his eyes. To hear without seeing is a rare opportunity, and for once he'd just like to take it. Because, really, when's the next time he's going to be this close to a waterfall again? Never.

And now that he thinks back on it, getting here had been a bit of a blur. Running away, stealing the car, beginning the roadtrip. No, he's...lost, in all honesty, but happy. Finally. And alone.

"Hey, bro!" Orange.

Maybe not completely alone. Gabriel plops down on the bench next to Castiel and nudges him with his shoulder. "So...Niagara Falls...of all places to go to first, you pick the border of Canada and America." Gabriel sighs. "Booooring."

"You didn't have to come with me if you feel so adamantly against seeing America in its monumental form."

"And that, right there, is why I'm here." Castiel tilts his head at his brother. "Because no one speaks like that. I get it. You're brilliant and underestimated, but c'mon, can't you at least speak like the average American?"

"The average American doesn't have a PhD in Theoretical Physics." Castiel counters. He isn't particularly pretentious about this fact about himself, but when it comes down to it, he's quite proud of himself. And how can he not be. Twelve years of pre-university education, four years of getting a bachelor's degree, two years for his Master's, and another three years for his doctorate. Twenty-one years he has spent in the educational system. And even though he has the right to flaunt it, he doesn't.

"The average American also doesn't throw a hissy fit at two o'clock in the morning and then break a bunch of wine bottles in retaliation." Gabriel gives Castiel a knowing look, only to earn himself an expression of disbelief.

"That was you."

Gabriel thinks about it for a moment. "So it was. I'll drink to that."

"You'd drink to anything." Castiel stands up and dusts the imaginary dirt off of his slacks. "Should we keep heading north or make our ways back down south?"

"Let's go to the dixie. I've heard there are some really open-minded people down there." Gabriel smirks.

"Sometimes your sarcasm is too much."

"Is it too much to get a smile out of you?" Gabriel runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "Geez, Cas, if I had known that you would be this boring to travel with, I would have just stayed back."

Castiel blinks and looks at Gabriel in shock while he determines if he's actually being serious. "You'd stay there? You'd jepordise your freedom just so you wouldn't be bored?"

"Take a joke, please." Gabriel lets out a dispared groan and starts walking back to the car. "Let's go to Kansas. That's the real America right there. We can go see where Dorothy was picked up. Maybe go have some real Pigs 'n a Poke."

For a moment, Castiel just considers. "Alright. Let's go." They walk back to the car. On the way, a firetruck goes by, its sirens blaring. Red, so red. Cas squeezes his eyes shut.

Gabriel stops walking. "You alright? I bet that one must have been a doozy."

"Sirens always are." Cas presses the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment. "I'm okay. Let's keep going."

"You know...I was reading about your condition...and synesthetes don't really experience pain…" Gabriel takes out the car keys as they approach the parking shelter. "I think...you should go get it checked out."

"I don't want to be distracted by some horrible disease. I've been living like this since I was born. It can wait another few months." Cas gets into the passenger seat and curls up, forehead pressed against the cool glass. If it is a bad thing, he'd just like to ignore it. Just for now. Just for a little while longer.

Gabriel sighs, knowing that his brother is right. He pulls out of the parking garage and heads for the I-70. They had a fifteen hour drive ahead of them. They've already driven from Arizona up to New York, so this drive will be nothing. All Gabriel can hope is that they stay in Kansas for longer than a few hours this time. Perhaps a night stay, at the very least.

But if this is what Castiel needs to feel better, then Gabe will follow him to the ends of the world.

Blood splatters across the wall and across his face. One more dead vampire. Granted...this had been a rather disgusting way to decapitate someone. Blunt guillotines. Dean looks down at his hands, stained red and life-withered. This is getting old. This is getting psychologically damaging. This is becoming ageist.

With a heavy huff, he stumbled out of the warehouse and heads to his Baby. Baby, the sole receptor of Dean's love, the epitome of being loved without giving love back. He pops open her trunk and drops his duffle in. There's something about New Orleans that Dean will never quite understand. A sort of voodoo that intertwines itself in the very vapours of the city. Hence the guillotine in a warehouse.

And if Sam were here, he'd be getting Dean to sit down for a bit so they can taste real, authentic jambalaya. But no, Sam isn't here. Sam won't be here. Not again. Not ever.

Dean shuts off his feelings again and drives back to his current home. A bunker out in the middle of Kansas. Somewhere where no one can find him unless he wants them to. And that's good. That's perfect. Like he cares about the loneliness. He doesn't take the chance of even thinking about what's awaiting him when he arrives back.

Burgers. Maybe he'll make burgers when he gets back. After he's showered and after he's back to being clean and presentable to himself. It will, however, take him quite a while to get back to his home. And maybe at least wiping down will be a good idea. Perhaps. But Dean isn't concentrating on that. All he's thinking about is getting back to an empty bunker in his home state. Empty and cavernous.

Dean turns on Ramble On to fill the silence and to ease the discomfort. He drives. Never once turning back to look at the fading lights of New Orleans. Then Louisiana.

A/N: Okay, so this is the first chapter. This will be quite the adventure, everybody. Lemme know what you think, please, I appreciate it. I'll try to get the next chapter up in the next few days. Love, Pyxie xx