One more lonely cowboy-

[signalfire]

Castiel knows where his boys are, the area of the country at least, but he is determined to go a few days without dropping in on either of them. Or Dean, really. He doesn't want to start coming across as needy. He is, after all, still an angel.

He is still looking for his Father. They've had many conversations about this, himself, the Winchesters, his brothers and sisters. God doesn't want to be found and Castiel, of all the angels, isn't going to be the one to find him.

But Castiel doesn't think it really needs to be that way. His Father decided he should be the one to pull Dean Winchester from Hell. His Father has brought him back to earth on more than one occasion, it can't be ruled out that he can be the one to discover the whereabouts of God.

He's twenty miles away from New York. The precise location isn't of import to him, it is just a place he has paused to recollect his thoughts. Small town, more motels than anything of any convenience. But he knows these towns. These are the most suspicious of towns and the ones he has spent the most time in seeking seals and fighting demons. No one even looks twice at him here and the anonymity is startlingly harsh. He doesn't stop much. He doesn't walk the earth in his vessel for his own entertainment.

Castiel hums to himself. He doesn't want to call Dean and find out where he and Sam are. He doesn't want to turn up on their doorstep because he only appears to them as a harbinger of woe. As much as they may say they like having him around.

[ash]

A small town outside of New York City. Not quite his normal locale. Hell, America itself has become far from his normal locale since he took over Torchwood Three. Actually, depending on how you looked at things, it had been several centuries since he had been in the country, if you were to follow Jack's personal time line, at least. Time travel had a tendency to complicate such things, as did immortality. If you wanted to treat time as a linear concept, which you really REALLY shouldn't, not if you had any understanding of time at all, then a version of Jack had been here just under twenty years ago. Not this version, though. That Jack had been the pre-Doctor Jack. Still a con man, still mortal, and still a coward.

One hell of a lot had changed since those days, he reflected, walking along the side of the road in a rural town too lonely to even provide pedestrians with sidewalks, heavy blue military jacket billowing out behind him as he walked, the former time agent inwardly cringing, praying the garment wasn't collectig dust. After all, it held some pretty deep sentimental value to him, as much as his team back in Cardiff had a tendency to tease him for perpetually wearing the same thing, Owen and Gwen especially, while Ianto insisted that it suited him, and made him appear sexy. A smile crept onto his previously stoic features as he thought of his team, Ianto in particular, and the way they had rebuilt Torchwood, making it a force for good.

Still smiling to himself, Jack continued on, hands in his pockets, not quite sure what he was looking for, but looking all the same. Arching a brow as he takes notice of a lone male trodding along in the same direction as him, several paces ahead and on the opposite side of the road, he withdrew a hand from his pocket, consulting the vortex manipulator strapped to his wrist. Maybe, just maybe, this man could be what Jack was looking for. Cutting across the road, and jogging a few steps to catch up, the ex-Time Agent approached the stranger, his most charming smile sliding into place across his handsome features, assuming the role of a passing traveller with ease.

"Hey," he called out, flasing the other man a grin, "mind some company?" He questioned lightly before continuing, "gets a bit lonely walking alone." As he spoke, he slipped uis hands back into his pockets, now walking in step with the other man, flirtatious smile still firmly in place.