The drive is long and I love it. The windows are only closed when it's raining around midday, and I even stopped and let them sit open then to feel the rain and watch the lightening. I roll into a little town around three in the afternoon and I'm exhausted. I don't even check on my phone how much farther I'll have to travel to get to the Chase's house. I really don't mind getting lost. I know I'm going South by the sun, and I saw the state marker for Arizona as I passed it.
I get the motel room closest to the fire escape in a tiny town in Oklahoma and I fall asleep with my new Taurus under my pillow and the shotgun and the knife both nearby.
I wake naturally in the morning, pleasantly surprised by the placid silence of the motel. I go into the bathroom and wash my face, and my heart skips a beat when I lift my eyes and see a man behind me in the mirror. I swear and spin around to face him.
It's an angel. I can see it immediately, a subtle unearthly glow behind his eyes. I look down to check my suspicion and see his grace pooling and swirling at his feet. I know to other people like my parents the angels look human, but to me, they could never be anything other than ethereal. Even the archangels, who can hide better than their brothers, have grace sparkling in their footsteps.
"What the hell do you want," I snap, relaxing only slightly. I may not recognize this vessel, but this is an angel I know.
He rolls his eyes. "Nothing, princess. Except maybe to know where you think you're going."
"That's none of your business, Raphael," I mutter, pushing past him into my room. "How did you find me?"
"It may not be any of my business directly," he says, "But my brother is worried sick over losing you, and I'm sure he'd be very interested in the last half of your statement himself."
"And you think he could stop me if you led him here?" I bundle up my things and open the door, the angel close behind.
"Not physically, obviously," he says with a small smirk. I look him over from head to foot as I stand with the hotel key. He's right that Cas could probably convince me to come home. He's always been the best to argue with me, regardless of my pigheadedness.
"Come on," I say, slinging my duffel over my shoulder. "Walk and talk." I notice a police officer in a car across the street, so I don't risk touching the car I stole. I drop the key in the drop box and walk into town, passing small shops and houses.
"So, Cas," he says.
"Please don't call me that-" I interrupt him.
"Sorry," he says sarcastically, "Cassie. Better?"
I don't answer him.
"You never answered my first question."
"And you haven't answered mine. Let's do this democratically," I say, "An answer for an answer."
"That's not Democr-"
"I am going to see the family of the last great Seer," I tell him, "now you answer mine." I stop and peer into an alley beside a bakery. There's a rusty white car in the gravel back driveway, but a man leans on a wall nearby smoking. I pass them.
"I found you because you're loud," he says, "Do you know how much of a disturbance you make? I just needed to talk to the right people. Or, spirits, rather."
"Ok. So why hasn't Cas tried?"
"Ah, ah, ah. My turn. Do you know how worried your parents are? Or Cas? Your uncle? I have never seen any of them this worried. And I've seem them in quite a pickle before, believe me."
He makes me feel only a little ashamed of myself.
"I know full well the effect this must have on them," I tell him, "But it's not about them. It's about me. I don't know who I am. Do you know how it feels to not know who I am?"
"I know that's a rhetorical question, but I'm going to be mean, answer it, and ask another of my own."
"Oh don't you start. Answer the one I asked before, why hasn't Cas found me?"
"He doesn't know it's that easy. Since you were born, he's either been dead, or wholly absorbed in caring for you. He's gotten far too desensitized to the mess you've made."
"Mess I've made, thanks."
"It's not like it's you're fault. It just follows the seers around. Ghosts and things of the sort. You don't even know how busy you made the bunker walls."
"The bunker walls." I say, unbelieving.
"The spells, Cassie." he rolls his eyes again.
"You stop rolling your eyes or I'll stop them myself."
He looks at me for a second, biting back what I can tell would be a scathing remark. The angels, over time, have learned to take me seriously.
I break the silence. "Your turn to ask a question."
"I don't have another. Your turn to ask as you please."
We come to a crossroads, and I see down the street to the left of us, a heavenly sight.
"An impound lot! Oh, hallelujah." I turn and run down the street, pulling a bobby pin from my scalp. I unlock the main gate and swing it open. "Hold that for me, I'll get us a ride," I tell Raph. It's then that I see the nicest car I'll ever drive, besides Baby, who was my first.
I whistle, standing next to it. "I bet it sucked to get this guy towed," I say to myself, "And now it'll suck to get it stolen." So far, I'd tried not to take anything that seemed it might be too badly missed. It was my honor among thieves, of sorts. But I could not resist a beautiful forest green 2017 Mustang.
I get in and sit down on the cushy leather seat. I laugh in appreciation.
We get on the road with a purr and I let myself soak in the speed for a few miles before bringing up some more questions of my own.
"Why the new vessel?" I ask the angel in the passenger seat.
"Why not the new vessel?" He retorts. I take my eyes off the road to roll them at him and shoot him a look.
"There was a scuffle in heaven. Or, really, more of a shuffle. Someone's out there looking just like I used to, and I look just like Josiah, I think his name was. Happened to hundreds of us. It's no matter. The ones to whom it counts won't be fooled."
"Like meee?" I say, smiling with all my teeth at him.
"Yes," he says, "Like you. It would be bad to be misidentified by the great seer of the age."
"That's almost like anti-sarcasm," I say, "I can't even tell whether you're being honest or not with all the layers of irony you have there."
"Think how bad it would be if you were talking to one of the others?" he says, "You know you're not entirely popular in heaven."
"Yeah," I say, "I bet none of the seers have been, though. I could liken myself to a wasp in the corner to someone with an allergy."
"Oh, so you're poetic now."
"I could be anything now," I say, "I'm not Castiel."
With that, we both finally fall silent. The angel sits for maybe a half an hour, as though waiting for me to come up with questions, before he disappears with a light whipping sound.