A/N: Cas shows up late, having recieved a text from Dean.

Genre: General

Fan fiction rated: K

Characters: Castiel

Spoilers/Timeline: Set sometime during season 5.


II – Rest

The room was dark and silent, although the occasional noise of a nearby car passing by outside hummed through the minimally open window, the sill covered in a neat line of salt. There was streetlight from the motel sign outside slipping in through the inches wide crack in the heavy curtains, painting a faint red line across the decades old carpet. He had been meaning to drop by earlier, but he had a tendency to lose track of time when his presence wasn't demanded immediately. The brothers were both sound asleep in their beds, Dean still wearing several layers of clothing where he lay on top of his covers. Castiel had come to understand that it was the hunter's way of sleeping with one eye open.

It had been days since he last talked to hem, he realized. Aside from the few text messages he received from Dean, wanting his safety confirmed. Castiel disliked typing text messages on the phone – even more so than he did calling someone on it – but he always replied to them, usually in two or three-word sentences – and sometimes less if possible.

He'd been expecting to find them still awake. It wasn't that late. He slipped his hand down the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out the cell phone, flapping it open and introducing the room to new light as he did. The clock on the display read 0:32 AM. The Winchesters were very unpredictable in their sleeping habits, he had come to learn. Not long ago he'd found them up and about scrubbing blood off of their clothes at nearly three in the morning.

The angel opened the text message he received earlier.

Received: 22:03 PM

From: Dean Winchester

Subject: Mulberry Inn, Madison Tennessee. Room 305. You better be alive!

Hours had passed, he realized. Time seemed to have a different flow when he didn't have the brothers around to help measure it with. They were constantly checking their watches, trying to beat time itself when driving to their next destination or packing up to be out before they were charged an additional night. It was just another thing that was different from heaven, serving as a sad reminder of how far he'd fallen from his old life.

He considered leaving again to continue where he left off in his search for God: Spain. He fumbled with the amulet in his coat pocket, the small piece of metal still somewhat warm from him fiddling with it as often as he did. So far it had proved itself to be nothing but useless, but Castiel had faith, and it did provide him with a strange sense of home, a feeling he had been missing desperately ever since he'd been cast out of heaven. Albeit it was a different home, one he associated with Dean and his younger brother. He knew it was merely a surrogate home, because he didn't belong with them. He often felt like an alien creature in the presence of the two brothers, their jabbering and pop-cultural references leaving him utterly clueless, but even so the very shape and feel of the talisman felt familiar in the palm of his hand.

He realized then with an odd sensation that he felt... worn. It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him more and more lately. He felt heavy and unfocused, but never to the point where he actually had to sleep. Then again, angels didn't sleep. As long as he managed to stay awake, he'd know he still had his Grace intact.

He wondered about sleep. He had fallen unconscious on several occasions due to severe injury or overuse of power, but that was different. Sleep was something humans did when laying down to close their eyes for hours on end, disappearing into themselves completely. He had watched the brothers sleep many times, pondering the mystery of it. He knew they oftentimes dreamt in their sleep, sometimes bad dreams that left them stirring and twisting in their sheets. He had even visited Dean in his dreams a few times, but he was very much awake in doing so.

Castiel sat down at one of the chairs at the small table by the wall, observing the brothers in silence. The beating of their hearts had slowed down considerably, which it always did as they slept, and their breathing was slow and almost soundless.

Perhaps it would be best to rest here for a while before returning to Spain, he decided, leaning deeper into the slightly uncomfortable wooden chair.