(Source: jennycockles)

Riverside

His eyes slowly fluttered open, focusing on the wilderness around him. The man willed himself to move, but his body was sluggish to respond. Its strength had been sapped right out. So, he laid there with the sun beating down on his back until some of it had returned.

He pushed himself up out of the sand and the muck, slipping back into the water to wash off what was caked onto his skin. Only the calls of birds and the gentle sounds of the water lapping against the bank interrupted the still silence.

There were no signs that he’d traveled there on his own. At least, no evidence here supported that, and no reason that he could think of why he would’ve gone skinny dipping in the middle of the woods alone. Odd. 

Although the only thing more disconcerting than his lack of clothes was not being able to recall what happened. 

But it was more than that. What was his name? 

Everything was gone. Even the most insignificant memories a person could have. 

Why can’t I remember? he thought to himself as he stumbled through the brush, hoping to find some signs of civilization or at least a clothesline he could take a few stitches of clothing from. 

Resurface

Darkness. 

The inky black that had surrounded him in the depths of the reservoir blocked out the sun, as if he’d descended into a world of night. Thousands of voices he could hear; the leviathans crying out in victory. They were free at least and saw this world for the taking once more.

For one fleeting moment before unconsciousness overtook him, Castiel felt regret wrench deep within him, terrible and unbearably heavy. In trying to stop Raphael, the angel had unleashed another foe. He’d betrayed the Winchesters, lost the trust of the true family he had on Earth. 

With the leviathans making their escape, certainly he would die now. The souls and those creatures had been too much of a burden, had begun to wear holes in his vessel. Now there would be no time to make amends and right wrongs. 

It was probably best that nothing but eternal night and nonexistence awaited him. 

(Source: winchestiel)

(Source: bigyellowfridge)

There is a large crowd of inebriated and partially unclothed people

And they are loud and glittering and they have beads and confetti.

I fear the entire town may be possessed or perhaps worshipping some kind of pagan god.

It is hard to tell, with so many voices raised at once, and my own power wavering.

My hand has nearly healed, though. Just a small patch of discolored skin remains.  However, I have a new grievance to report in what I believe is a headache born of the incessant prattling of Becky Rosen, who has apparently joined us.

She claims to accidentally just keep being where we are, or showing up directly after us.

I suspect she may have sold her soul for the eternal knowledge of the whereabouts of the Winchesters. Specifically Sam, as she seems to spend most of her time sighing longingly at him from two feet away.

There is much I do not understand about this place and the people here.

Pie is good.

jerkbrother:

freedomsnoose:

The directions did not advise me regarding the process of removing the pies from the oven.

And my healing has slowed.

Cas…you made pie? You made pie. Officially the coolest angel on my list.

…wait, you got burned? How bad?

 I preheated the oven to 350 degrees.

Is that a three hundred and fiftieth degree burn? I understand that the lower the number the worse it is, but there are just small bubbles.

Likely it will be gone in a day or two.

The directions did not advise me regarding the process of removing the pies from the oven.

And my healing has slowed.

jerkbrother:

zeroing:

x-ray pin-up calendar

 #The shoes look painful #and possibly cursed #is this what we are investigating?

Maybe later, Cas. Right now we’re looking into angry spirits.

 I cannot tell if the face is angry, but were I forced to wear such crippling contraptions on my feet, I would be angry as well.

Perhaps burning them will solve the problem?