Colors. So many vibrant colors of red, pink, orange, gold, blue, soft violet flooded the horizon, trickling into the sky and lacing the edges of cumulus clouds. A 1978 Lincoln Continental had stopped at a Gas-N-Sip, waiting patiently for its temporary driver to return from within the station. Its passenger, however, sat quiet and still with her seatbelt still fastened, though her gaze was locked on the sky.

Sam occasionally glanced through the shop's windows as he stood at the counter, assuring himself that the archangel was still in the passenger seat and safe. He remained casual as he paid cash, the rustling of plastic as a few items were procured and bagged.

"Munchies for the road?" the clerk asked with a friendly chuckle.

Sam smiled politely. "Sure. Been a long night."

"Road trip?"

"Uh, yeah. Something like that," he nodded.

In the car, Selaphiel tilted her head, attempting to get a better view of the sky from her seat, trying to see around the trees and powerlines … and the close proximity of her nose to the window caused a faint fog to form on the glass from her breath. Her lashes fluttered as she sat back a bit, watching the condensation fade over seconds. Curious, she leaned close again, parting her lips to exhale upon the surface and create a new fog … and she sat back again to watch it disappear. The third time, she reached up to lightly trace her fingertip along the glass, creating a line in the moisture. A child-like spark of intrigue and fascination flickered within her eyes, softening her expression.

Suddenly, the radio came to life, breaking the silence with static. Selaphiel's calm attention immediately jerked from the window to the illuminated dial, her eyes widening as she could make out various screams and pleas through the white noise and squeals of adjusting frequencies, the constant ringing of multiple tritones, the roars of agony that became clearer through the static and yet grew indistinct as more and more voices joined in the fray.

Instinctively, she attempted to switch off the radio, but the buttons and knobs did nothing. She tried again. And again. Nothing. So many languages, some not words at all, all of them crying out for help … and one voice, suddenly, a whisper above them all:

"Selaphiel ..."

Sam opened the driver-side door and immediately, all was silent, the radio dead once more. Taking his seat, he looked over to the angel, missing the distressed expression upon her face as she quickly turned away. "You hungry?" he asked as he lifted the plastic bag in suggestion. The look of confusion on her face prompted him to explain. "Okay, stupid question. I honestly don't know, really, because I know you're in a lot of pain, wasn't sure if you can even tell if you're hungry or not … or if you can even get hungry, because Cas doesn't … get … you know what? Here." He dug into the bag to retrieve two items, offering them to his celestial companion. "RC Cola and a Moon Pie. Breakfast of champions."

Accepting the drink and snack, Selaphiel held them and stared at them for several beats as Sam started the car and drove from the station, the shop's bell chiming as they left. Reading the labels, she commented softly, "... this is not a very nutritious way to start the day …"

"Nope, but Dean will argue that it is," he protested with a smirk. "You know what? If you don't like it, I'll eat it. Win-win."

The crinkling of plastic followed for a few beats as she opened the package then gave the treat a brief sniff … before taking a bite. Sam watched as she chewed slowly, watched as her brows lifted slightly in curiosity. At least she wasn't disgusted by it. In fact, he might surmise that she actually enjoyed it. He chuckled to himself then, shaking his head. "An archangel's first time in a human body, first thing he eats is a Moon Pie."

Still chewing, Selaphiel gave him a silent look of inquiry.

Smiling, he explained. "It's funny because it's unexpected." With a nod, Selaphiel turned her gaze to the window once more, watching the tops of the trees as they drove. When she took another bite Sam felt a little accomplished and smiled reaching for the radio to switch it on. "All right. Let's see what sort of station we can get in-"

But Selaphiel's hand quickly rose to press against the dash, blocking Sam mid-reach. "Please. Not right now," she whispered.

A bit stunned, Sam pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, brow knitting with concern. "You okay?" The shift in her gaze to the window told him otherwise, but he could abide by this; she clearly didn't want to talk about whatever this was. Assuming it was one of those tie-ins to her virtue of humility, he dropped the subject … but he didn't drop his concern, occasionally glancing over to her as she slowly ate that Moon Pie.

"Hey. Sel …?" he started with a careful hesitation. "You said I could ask you anything, so ... I have another question for you." She took another bite as she looked to the hunter, chewing while watching him. "When Metatron cast all the angels out of Heaven … what were you doing during that time?"

"My duty," she answered simply.

"Angel Radio? You just … kept doing it?"

"Someone had to …" came her faded confession.

"How?" he asked, confused. "All the other angels, they were injured in the fall, had to take vessels, but you …? You didn't? You just … kept doing your job?"

"Could you please pull over?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" was Sam's perplexed response.

"Please?" she repeated as she looked to him again.

"Oh … okay." He did as was requested, pulling over to the side of the road, beside a field of wheat boarded by a large, old wooden fence. The land was flat, hardly any trees for miles, but the sky was large and in perfect view. The moment the car had stopped, Selaphiel climbed out and closed the door behind her, crossing several feet to the fence, stopping at the barrier and staring to the horizon. Turning off the engine, Sam quickly followed after and nearly spoke … until he realized just what had her attention … and the mild panic he felt melted into understanding.

"Got a thing for sunrises?" he asked as he stood at her side; her lack of response had been one he expected, so he let the silence fall between them for a beat … then watched as she climbed onto the fence to sit and watch the sky. He did not hesitate to join her, easily taking a seat next to the archangel.

"Each day is different," she spoke, her tone soft and distant. "… and it does not matter how terrible yesterday was … today is a clean slate. It is neither bad or good. A new beginning … and possibilities are infinite."

Sam looked to her for several beats as a small and thoughtful smile faded onto his face. "That is … beautiful, actually," he finally replied, returning his eyes to the sunrise. "You're a very inspirational person. Anyone ever told you that?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"You know ..." He shifted into a more comfortable position on the fence. "... back before I met Cas? I kinda had this image in my head. This image of of what angels would be like if they were real. And then I actually met some and … pretty much every single one of them was a dick, or wanted to kill me, or both … but … not you. You … remind me of what I imagined angels to be. And you … shook my hand." A weak smiled traced his lips as he added, "Without any hesitation. I wasn't expecting that." He shrugged a bit, not noticing the sadness in Selaphiel's gaze as she kept her focus on the sky. "I just … I wasn't expecting a lot of things, I guess. And meeting you? It almost feels like it's been reset, y'know? Back to what I believed before … everything. And it feels kind of … good, actually." He paused a moment, looking to her for a beat before asking, "How is it you're so different from the other angels I've met?"

"When one spends a majority of his existence listening to others, he understands them better than most," she explained gently.

Understanding, Sam nodded and shifted his gaze to the colorful clouds in the distance … then came to a realization. "People don't talk to you much, do they?"

"People talk to me all the time," she replied truthfully.

"No, I mean, like … directly. Outside of orders and messages … people don't usually … converse with you. Do they."

"... no." Her response was scarcely audible.

"Are you really as much of a workaholic as Cas says?"

"Yes."

"That sounds … really lonely, actually," he replied.

"I am used to it," she murmured, scarcely audible.

Sam sighed sympathetically. "Yeah. That's one of the saddest things a person can ever say. 'I'm used to it'." But Selaphiel did not offer any acknowledgement to his statement, instead watching the ever-changing colors of the morning sky, a mockingbird briefly streaking across her vision to disappear amid the wheat.

"Sel …" Sam began, her name drawing the angel's attention away from the sunrise and onto him. "When we get you out of there … you'll keep in touch, right?"

"Of course. I am always with you," she said.

"That's really endearing, but I meant … you know … talking. Like this." The faint flicker of confusion and curiosity knitting her brow prompted the hunter to explain. "Not asking for help or following orders or delivering messages or anything like that, just … talking. Just you. And me. Hanging out. Like this. Just chatting. No obligations."

She stared at him in silence, then whispered. "... okay."

Sam smiled and echoed. "Okay." Returning his gaze to the horizon, he chuckled lightly. "Sunrise and moon pies."

…

…

…

Southern Washington was still blanketed by grey, the skies overcast from recent rains. Dean and Castiel walked the grounds, though the angel clearly had apprehension with each step, looking around warily. The hunter, on the other hand just sighed as they crossed another trail marker. "Would be nice to know exactly what it was we're looking for," Dean commented as he studied their surroundings. "You've been acting a little weird since we got here. Well, weirder than usual. You sense something?"

"Yes," Castiel said with a creased brow and a squint. "Everything. Everything about this place feels … wrong."

"Yeah, well, is that 'wrong' feeling any stronger in one particular direction?"

Castiel paused, slowly turning in a full circle to assess their situation. "It's like I'm in a fog. A very thick fog."

Dean took a few steps forward, then stopped as he caught sight of something on the tree near him. "Hey, Cas." The angel moved to his side as Dean motioned for Castiel to join him. "Look. Sigil. Doesn't that seem familiar to you?"

The angel leaned forward a little to get a closer look at the carving. "It looks similar to the Horn of Gabriel … the sigil Metatron used as a siren to lure angels into traps … but …"

"But?"

"It's incomplete," he explained, standing upright fully as confusion crossed over his expression. "Whoever carved it must have been unable to finish it."

"Someone trying to put out a distress call, you think? Maybe the same person who was having second thoughts and made the kinks in the cloak and chains."

"If they were unable to complete the sigil, then it is possible they were caught and could be presumed dead."

"Yeah, because a big and complicated operation like that seems like it'd be run by somebody who doesn't take kindly to double-crossers." He hissed through his teeth, looking to the sky. "Recent rain makes it difficult to track which direction this they came from. Not that we'd have much luck anyway considering all the foot traffic on these trails." He sighed.

"Dean," Castiel began with a knitted brow. "The Horn of Truth requires angel blood, griffin feathers and the bones of a fairy. This is only carved."

Confused, the hunter stared at the symbol. "Maybe whoever drew it didn't know that?"

"Or maybe it's a clue," the angel realized as he started down the path near the marked tree. "We're in the right place. This way." Dean followed close behind.

"Were they close?"

"Who?"

"Gabe and Sel."

"Very," Castiel confirmed. "Their level of synergy was one to be admired, how well they worked together. It is my understanding the Horn was created by them as a union of their power … one of the very few instances in our history when archangels combined their power."

"And I get the feeling that activating that Horn now would be a bad thing, or letting anyone know just what we're looking for here would be less than good, y'know, considering."

"I shouldn't be here …" Castiel said as he stopped in his tracks, uneasy. "It feels … very uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable how?"

"Almost like … I am desecrating a grave. I keep feeling compelled to leave."

"Must be the angel warding," Dean suggested. "Rain worked in our advantage, I guess, maybe washed some of that away."

Suddenly, the voice of a woman called out from ahead of them. "Dean?!"

The hunter looked up to see two very familiar forms approaching them quickly.

"Jody? Claire?"

{{ To be continued in Chapter 11: Shine On You Crazy Diamond }}

{{ Author's Note: Admit it. You are now craving an RC Cola and a Moon Pie. }}