Castiel listens in pensive silence, hanging on every word, his expression tight with worry but laser focused nonetheless. The more John describes it, the better Castiel feels, because it sounds like this thing has less to do with the Darkness that he knows of than what he'd previously thought - though that makes it no less concerning.
There are a hundred things, a thousand things that could be at the root of this. Opening the Devil's Gate in Wyoming, breaking open the Cage, all the shattered seals of the Apocalypse, opening the door to Purgatory not only once, but twice.. plainly speaking, so much shit has been happening recently that it's impossible to say how it's affected the world, what consequences it might have wrought on this plane of existence, or all those linked to it. Thinning the barriers between dimensions seems a likely enough result, what with how many holes have been punched through the realms recently, how many more demons have been walking the earth, and angels as well, who meddle in human affairs far less than demons ever do.
"And an angel asked this of you? To look into it. To try to discover the source of this.. disease."
It's unsettling, to be sure. Castiel is high on Heaven's most wanted list these days, he can't claim to know all about everything that's going on up there, but the place is a mess, a wreck, factions following their own orders, keeping to private agendas. Everything has gone from black and white to varying shades of grey, and he no longer trusts his own kind intrinsically.
"I've got the experience and he knew it," he shrugs, sliding a look over towards Castiel again, having taken to concentrating on the road for a minute there. Meeting an angel wasn't how he learned to write in Enochian, is the thing. That magic, like all the lore he knows, was what he dug up for himself in his youth spent devouring the occult, fascination and escapism and the electric thrill of having the power to tweak the Universe's nose all at once. Not many like you down here, was how Manny had put it. You know, some time after he called John a desperation move.
John pulls onto the highway, and finds himself slowly becoming less tense the farther they get out of town. It's not that he's afraid of getting arrested (again), exactly, it's just that it's Chas' weekend with his daughter, and as much as John is the worst friend in the world, even he knows what that means for his mate. Putting in a call for the man to come down to the middle-of-nowhere Mississippi and post bail would not make him a happy camper. Odd, though: he'd expected angels to trust each other.
Alright, it's fair enough to learn that most aren't terribly fond of humans: of all the things that don't shock John, that doesn't shock him the most. But Manny had been all about the rules and regulations, until John got into his hair. Even if they're not big on puny mortals, shouldn't they be on the same page?
Compartmentalized is one thing. Whatever's got Cas' feathers ruffled seems like another thing entirely.
"That makes you more suspicious, does it? What, exactly, is going on up there?"
Experience or not, it's not like angels to rely on a human for anything unless they're using them; Castiel is something of a rare breed when it comes to his faith in human beings, just how much he believes in them, and it's far easier for him to believe that an angel could be manipulating John for its own gain than to think it might be anything at all like himself.
John seems to be making it abundantly clear, however, that it isn't Castiel's problem, and he's exasperated enough with it to let the matter drop. He can't force a name, doesn't want to, so that's that then, isn't it? When John asks about Heaven, though, Castiel rolls his eyes so hard it's a wonder they don't fly out of his skull.
"You won't give me the name of one angel, but you expect me to give you the insider on what's happening in Heaven? Information is a two-way street, John Constantine, and some kinds of knowledge are more valuable than others."
A shame for him that Castiel isn't quite so doe-eyed as he might look; he's given John plenty to chew on, as far as he's concerned, and while Castiel's patience is plentiful and his willingness to help is great, he's not really getting much back, here, feels like he's had to pull teeth to get what he's gotten. And that's fine. To be honest, he's used to it, Dean can be just as frustratingly tight-lipped - but when you pretend to throw the ball enough times, eventually the dog learns that you're not actually going to throw it, and becomes disinterested. Sighing softly through his nose, Castiel fixes his gaze on a point in the distance, unfocused and distant.
"But you should be careful."
ahh sorry, holidays turned out ot be way busier than I thought!
That's... fair, unfortunately. But he's still not going to spill Manny's secret without talking to him first. He he sorta owes the feathery bastard at least that little smidge of courtesy.
But the worst part is, Castiel is more right than even John knows, for all of his cynicism. He thinks he understands the ways in which Manny is using him - thinks he's using Manny right back - but the glimmer of hope that he might be able to save his own soul from damnation has managed to blind even him. He wants it so bad that he drags himself out of bed in the morning, something he's almost sure he'd have given up on by now, if Manny had never appeared and dangled the impossible in front of him like a carrot on a stick.
But John's too arrogant to see that he's being used for far beyond the things that he thinks, and Manny is wilier than he'd like to admit. So, it turns out, is Castiel.
He sighs as well, a huff of breath between his teeth, and gestures up towards the car's ceiling with one hand, conceding as much as he's ever able. "Alright, then ask me about anything else." No more dodging answers just for the sake of it. Probably. Loyalty to an ally is one thing, but he has been a right arse all night, he can admit to that.
At the very least, John Constantine seems to know when to let it rest. Angels, apparently - or any questions surrounding this specific angel that he's associating with - are off limits. That's a sore price to pay, considering heaven and angels are the things that Castiel is, unsurprisingly, most curious about, but free will.. it sure is a bitch. He can force the answers out of John all he likes, but he doesn't want to, it would chafe his core values too deeply, but here John is all but agreeing to answer anything else, and beggars can't be choosers.
Castiel sighs, in that long suffering sort of way, squinting out at the road ahead.
"You still haven't told me why you're doing it. Why you're hunting demons."
Hunters are easy enough to figure out - they hunt because they know there are creepy, crawling things out there that go bump in the night and eat children for breakfast, or they do it out of revenge, because a werewolf mauled their husband, or a vampire turned their daughter, or a demon burned their home and family to a crisp. Most don't tangle with demons, however. The Winchesters are a bit of an anomaly, special in more ways than Castiel can rightly describe, and even still, they don't consider themselves 'specialists'. They don't hunt demons in particular, they hunt everything. That John chooses this singular, far more dangerous prey is.. interesting, and telling.
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There are a hundred things, a thousand things that could be at the root of this. Opening the Devil's Gate in Wyoming, breaking open the Cage, all the shattered seals of the Apocalypse, opening the door to Purgatory not only once, but twice.. plainly speaking, so much shit has been happening recently that it's impossible to say how it's affected the world, what consequences it might have wrought on this plane of existence, or all those linked to it. Thinning the barriers between dimensions seems a likely enough result, what with how many holes have been punched through the realms recently, how many more demons have been walking the earth, and angels as well, who meddle in human affairs far less than demons ever do.
"And an angel asked this of you? To look into it. To try to discover the source of this.. disease."
It's unsettling, to be sure. Castiel is high on Heaven's most wanted list these days, he can't claim to know all about everything that's going on up there, but the place is a mess, a wreck, factions following their own orders, keeping to private agendas. Everything has gone from black and white to varying shades of grey, and he no longer trusts his own kind intrinsically.
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John pulls onto the highway, and finds himself slowly becoming less tense the farther they get out of town. It's not that he's afraid of getting arrested (again), exactly, it's just that it's Chas' weekend with his daughter, and as much as John is the worst friend in the world, even he knows what that means for his mate. Putting in a call for the man to come down to the middle-of-nowhere Mississippi and post bail would not make him a happy camper. Odd, though: he'd expected angels to trust each other.
Alright, it's fair enough to learn that most aren't terribly fond of humans: of all the things that don't shock John, that doesn't shock him the most. But Manny had been all about the rules and regulations, until John got into his hair. Even if they're not big on puny mortals, shouldn't they be on the same page?
Compartmentalized is one thing. Whatever's got Cas' feathers ruffled seems like another thing entirely.
"That makes you more suspicious, does it? What, exactly, is going on up there?"
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John seems to be making it abundantly clear, however, that it isn't Castiel's problem, and he's exasperated enough with it to let the matter drop. He can't force a name, doesn't want to, so that's that then, isn't it? When John asks about Heaven, though, Castiel rolls his eyes so hard it's a wonder they don't fly out of his skull.
"You won't give me the name of one angel, but you expect me to give you the insider on what's happening in Heaven? Information is a two-way street, John Constantine, and some kinds of knowledge are more valuable than others."
A shame for him that Castiel isn't quite so doe-eyed as he might look; he's given John plenty to chew on, as far as he's concerned, and while Castiel's patience is plentiful and his willingness to help is great, he's not really getting much back, here, feels like he's had to pull teeth to get what he's gotten. And that's fine. To be honest, he's used to it, Dean can be just as frustratingly tight-lipped - but when you pretend to throw the ball enough times, eventually the dog learns that you're not actually going to throw it, and becomes disinterested. Sighing softly through his nose, Castiel fixes his gaze on a point in the distance, unfocused and distant.
"But you should be careful."
ahh sorry, holidays turned out ot be way busier than I thought!
But the worst part is, Castiel is more right than even John knows, for all of his cynicism. He thinks he understands the ways in which Manny is using him - thinks he's using Manny right back - but the glimmer of hope that he might be able to save his own soul from damnation has managed to blind even him. He wants it so bad that he drags himself out of bed in the morning, something he's almost sure he'd have given up on by now, if Manny had never appeared and dangled the impossible in front of him like a carrot on a stick.
But John's too arrogant to see that he's being used for far beyond the things that he thinks, and Manny is wilier than he'd like to admit. So, it turns out, is Castiel.
He sighs as well, a huff of breath between his teeth, and gestures up towards the car's ceiling with one hand, conceding as much as he's ever able. "Alright, then ask me about anything else." No more dodging answers just for the sake of it. Probably. Loyalty to an ally is one thing, but he has been a right arse all night, he can admit to that.
you live! no problemo though, i was busy myself.
Castiel sighs, in that long suffering sort of way, squinting out at the road ahead.
"You still haven't told me why you're doing it. Why you're hunting demons."
Hunters are easy enough to figure out - they hunt because they know there are creepy, crawling things out there that go bump in the night and eat children for breakfast, or they do it out of revenge, because a werewolf mauled their husband, or a vampire turned their daughter, or a demon burned their home and family to a crisp. Most don't tangle with demons, however. The Winchesters are a bit of an anomaly, special in more ways than Castiel can rightly describe, and even still, they don't consider themselves 'specialists'. They don't hunt demons in particular, they hunt everything. That John chooses this singular, far more dangerous prey is.. interesting, and telling.