@bloodsalted ;; setting prompts (still accepting) 64. lighthouse overlooking a raging sea.
SHARP WIND WHIPS AT HER LOOSE HAIR. A dark green sea crashes against the rough cliffs near Florence, Washington, droning out most of the other noise. Grey clouds are gathering above them, bringing dawn much quicker than usual for this time of year. It smells of rain, though it hasn't reached them yet. Castiel watches the gigantic waves of the Pacific for a couple of minutes before she turns to look at Dean, who's still inspecting the white lighthouse. The door is still locked.
17 hours ago, Dean got a call from his father telling him to meet John here. The drive had been mostly quiet after that. Dean even refused to stop for a break longer than gassing up the car and taking a leak. Castiel does not know if his father knows he's in the company of a woman, much less an angel. She has never met John, but from what she's learned, he doesn't differentiate between angel and monster, and he's been a terrible father. Castiel can appreciate a fellow soldier, but humans are supposed to be more; they're supposed to be better. And if he gives her reason to, she'll tell him as much.
"We should wait in the car," she suggests when the first raindrop hits the Impala's windshield. They don't know why John wants to meet; maybe he needs help for a hunt, maybe it's something else entirely. Before Dean could ask, John had already hung up the phone. Castiel bristles at the idea of Dean ruining his sleep schedule because of a social call.
