The Midwest gets cold in the winter and Kansas usually gets the blunt end of the icy season's temper. It's late November now, narrowing in on the holiday season and Topeka is bustling with people. Many brave the cold weather, bundled in their winter puffy winter coats, to go shopping. Stores are crowded with people getting holiday gifts and gathering the last of their provisions in preparation for the coming Thanksgiving holiday. Some of the herd coming from long distances to visit their families, others merely passing through on the way to their own holiday destinations. Their cars packed full with luggage and family members.
The gas station Katherine Reed stands inside of is not exempt from the throng of travelers. She stands in front of a rack of sunglasses, surrounded by rowdy young families and impatient gasoline customers, looking at her reflection on the rotating display stand. Her face free of makeup aside from the dollar store eyeliner rimming her weary eyes. Katherine admirers a pair of aviators, trying them on as she waits for a family of five to file out of the gas station. The husband and wife round up their three children, all between the ages of four and nine, and corral them toward the door, not noticing as Katherine falls in step behind them. Her fall jacket, much too light for the winter temperature outside, cram full of pilfered packaged food.
She splits from the group of five in the parking lot, booking it down the block. She stops in front the only thing she's got left to her name; a grey 1968 Chevrolet Nova SS coupe that once belonged to her father. Katherine hops into the driver's seat, immediately starting the engine and taking off down the street. She hates stealing, but a girl's gotta eat.
In another part of town the former angel Castiel huddles into his coat as he makes his way down the sidewalk. He's exhausted of this whole homeless thing. Getting ejected from Heaven? Fine. Becoming a human? Not ideal, but doable. Being asked to leave the bunker? Alright. Sleeping in homeless encampments? Tolerable, if not uncomfortable. But, freezing to death from lack for proper shelter from the elements? Not okay.
The former does his fair share of bouncing around. From homeless camps, to shelters, doing day labor for shit pay, eating food pantry donations. It's getting cold out now though, and his fellow vagrants become territorial of their camps and the shelters are becoming crowded for the winter. How some of these humans have survived this way for years, Castiel doesn't know. But he's also heard the stories of lone transients freezing to death and doesn't want that to become his fate as well.
In the meantime Katherine drops by a soup kitchen she's volunteered at a few times. Anyone could guess they don't only serve soup. It's almost four thirty in the afternoon, not long before the dinner time rush would file into the pantry. Tonight, she works there as a cook in exchange for measly pay and a free meal, but she doesn't mind. Katherine loves to cook, it reminds her of a time before everything was difficult. She hunches over the counter, mashing potatoes by hand, as she let's her mind transport itself to the days in her great-aunt's hole-in-the-wall restaurant a few towns over.
Katherine spends the entire evening recalling the golden days. Long after her shift is finished and the dinner rush is gone, she sits down with a food tray of her own and quietly enjoys her free meal over old memories. As she packs up and files out of the front door, there's a pantry staff member handing out pamphlets at the entrance, warning of the drop in temperature to come after eight pm. He passes a pamphlet into Katherine's hands and she reads over the contents as she trudges toward her Nova. She climbs into the cold vehicle and starts it, reading over the address of this week's winter shelter location, before shifting the car into drive and taking off in the fading daylight toward the address listed for that date.
That evening after eating dinner at a nearby shelter, Castiel goes to the church he likes to frequent. He'd gone there the day Dean asked him to leave and sat for hours, after that he'd continued coming back. There are two,very devout, very kind older ladies who are there whenever he comes and greet him without fail every time. After his third time there, they'd learned of his situation after he'd asked the pastor about nearby shelters. Their opinion seemingly remains the same, every few days when he visits the church they still greet him brightly, without judgement. That night they are there again, greeting other church goers who are present to attend the evening sermon.
The elder of the two women, clasps his hands as he enters the church. "Cas, how have you been?" She questions cheerily. Castiel hadn't told them his true name, but he didn't like having to lie either, so he chose to use his nickname instead. "Very good, Mrs. Corbett, and yourself?" He answers, following as she leads him toward the pews. He listens to the sweet old woman talk animatedly about her week before they settle in for the evening sermon.
An aisle over from where he's seated, he spots a new face. A petite young woman, with long brown hair, dressed in a jacket that isn't quite warm enough for the weather. She's pretty, Castiel observes, as she listens to the Pastor preaching. He doesn't mean to, but he ends up watching her the entire sermon. Nearly jumping in surprise when younger of the two women, Mrs. Kelsh, touches his shoulder. "Did you find somewhere to stay for the evening, Cas? It's going to be very cold tonight." The former angel smiles down at the nice woman, "I was going to go to a shelter this evening." She shakes her head, passing a pamphlet into his hands that reads Interfaith Emergency Winter Shelters of Kansas on the front.
He reads it over carefully. The pamphlet advertises a winter shelter held in various churches every night of the week. The list is organized by city. Castiel skims over the details until he reaches Topeka, where there are two columns. One being days of the week, the second being the location of that day's shelter, which are held in different churches every night. He reads the paragraph in the margin where the open and closing dates and times are listed. "The shelter's being held here tonight, why don't you stick around? It doesn't actually open until nine, but I'm sure the volunteers could use the help."
The girl from earlier remains seated as all the church goers slowly file out the door. Some of them going home, some retreating to the attached church community center for warm beverages and conversation. Castiel notes the bag at her feet, tucked part of the way beneath the pew she's seated on. In her hands, she clutches a copy of the same pamphlet Mrs. Kelsh had given him. These two observations are enough for the former angel to assume they share the same predicament.
Castiel cautiously approaches her, having learned the hard way that some transients, though not all, could be a bit hostile. "Are you here for the shelter as well?" he questions in a small voice, still gravelly, but almost timid. The woman turns toward him, nodding as she stands, taking a moment to observe him.
Katherine looks over the man who'd approached her. He's tall, almost six foot, though not quite. He's got dark hair, that is the slightest bit tousled, an attractive stubble, and these stunningly blue eyes. He's dressed in a number of layers; a hoodie, a tee shirt, button down, hoodie, and a jacket, as well as a pair of dark jeans and black boots. There's a bag bag, a backpack, held one hand and a pamphlet in the other. He's very handsome, she concludes. And homeless like herself, but a part of her can tell that he hasn't been for very long.
Castiel observes her simultaneously. He can see now that she's standing that she's petite. Considerably smaller than him, approximately five foot four, perhaps? Her dark brown hair halls over her shoulders almost to the middle of her back and her eyes are a hazel color that remind him a bit of Sam's. She's dressed too lightly for the weather, in a crew neck sweater, a military green jacket, jeans, and ankle boots.
"Yeah, they gave me a pamphlet at the soup kitchen and I decided to drop by. It's getting too cold to sleep in my car." Katherine explains, though she knows she needn't do so. Something about this guy is so warm and welcoming, especially the way the corners of his eyes crease as he nods, almost smiling. "I too received one, from one of the church goers, Mrs. Kelsh. The shelters are becoming increasingly crowded, perhaps these emergency shelters will be more comfortable." He tells her, his voice is deep, like gravel. It adds to his appeal immensely.
"Name's Katherine Reed," She tells him, extending her hand toward him, "But, I prefer Katie." The former angel mirrors her action, his fingers gliding along her palm and closing around it in a handshake. "I'm Cas."