Hope
Castiel has just spiked an empty beer can and put it in his bag when he notices the small boy who stops another of the homeless men as he works. The man looks at a piece of newspaper the boy shows him and shakes his head. The boy nods and moves on to the next man.
Castiel continues picking up the trash, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. He's wearing a dull green beanie hat and a thick scarf. He looks like a miniature version of a lot of the men here, Castiel thinks, and the thought leaves him uneasy.
Eventually the boy reaches Castiel and tugs on his sleeve. Castiel puts a spiked empty chip packet in his bag before looking down at the boy. He doesn't say anything, but holds out a newspaper clipping for Castiel to take.
It's an old clipping, Castiel can tell from the colour, and it's been folded for some time judging by the deep creases. There's an article on it with a black and white photo of a man. He's smiling. In orange crayon is written the question:
have u seen my unkle?
Castiel looks at the boy again, who watches him with wide brown eyes. He's an angel—he was—and the thought of this boy being alone with only a newspaper clipping for company doesn't sit comfortably.
"I haven't seen your uncle," Castiel says to the boy with genuine sadness. At that the faint hope in the boy's eyes dies a little more and he looks at his feet. "But I will help you find him," he adds and the boy stares up at him, surprised.
Castiel holds out his hand, and the boy hesitantly slips his cold fingers into Castiel's warmer palm. "Have you checked inside yet?" he asks the boy, who shakes his head. "Then lead the way." Castiel allows his steps to slow down and the boy to drag him towards the shelter.
There's something in the boy's eyes that Castiel will not see extinguished like it is with almost everyone else here: hope.
THE END