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Chapter 3: Fleur

Jackson’s Diner, Phoenix, Arizona, 10:05 PM

The drive to Arizona was uneventful, to say the most. Castiel drifted in and out of sleep, and he was entirely silent the whole time. The only time we spoke was when we had first gotten into the mustang, and by now that had been about thirteen hours ago. The human side of me was getting restless because of the lack of socialization. I wonder if he felt the same way.

I stopped in a diner called “Jackson’s Diner” in the capital of Arizona. I was getting rather hungry, and I guessed that Castiel would prefer a nicer place to sleep than the passenger seat of a mustang. That being said, he was in an old motel where I dropped him off, while I am grabbing some food for the both of us.

“Can I get two plain burgers to go?” I request, taking a seat at the counter. “Oh, and two cups of black coffee please.”

“Sure, hun. That’ll be all?” The waitress is an older woman, with graying black hair. She probably has more stories than she has wrinkles, however, so I suppose she is probably in her forties.

“Yes ma’am, thank you.”

On hunts, I try to stay on alert. Anyone could be a demon, including the waitress or even the plumber a few seats down. Thankfully, angels were less difficult. I can see their halos and their wings, a gift from Leliel, making them much easier to decipher from demons or humans. In fact, I have killed two rogue angels before and I identified them specifically by their halos.

The waitress behind the counter set my order down and says, “That’ll be nineteen-twenty.”

I sit a twenty and a five down, and tell her to keep the change. The five dollars is for her tip, which I hoped she realizes, as I pick up my order and leave. Thankfully, the diner and the motel are fairly close, and I am at the motel within a couple of minutes.

As I enter our motel room, I see the cambion on my computer.

“I come baring gifts,” I grin with a joking tone, pulling the door shut with my foot. I sit the coffee and burgers down on the table and lean over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his research.

“Vladimir Drăculea? Why’re you looking up fake historical vampires?” I question, a hand on the back of his chair. He scoffs offensively, and I can see him rolling his eyes in the reflection of the dark screen.

“He did drink blood from humans, but he himself was a human as well. He went to hell for murder and was tortured, forming a tortured soul as you should know, and became a demon,” Castiel snaps.

“He’s your demonic parent,” I realize aloud, and mentally scold myself. He’d never met his father, just as all of the others haven’t. Angels and demons that are not in the plan aren’t allowed in the compound. I’m one of the few who have actually met my supernatural parent in person, but that’s a story for another time.

“Obviously,” he murmurs. “Thanks for the food.” He snatches the burger and coffee, devouring it like a savage. I sit down across from him and begin to eat as well. We are both silent, and I am not entirely sure if I want to go through another gap of silence on our hunt. He continues scrolling through the articles of Vladimir Drăculea while I study his reactions. I don’t understand any of his facial expressions, which are fairly normal, much to my displeasure.

“Stop, please,” Castiel politely asks, an underlying snippy connotation to his phrase finds its way into my comprehension.

“Stop doing what, exactly?” I question, attempting to act innocent. He looked me dead in the eye with a sinister grin, and I know now I cannot use facades against him.

“Stop trying to decipher my thoughts, abomination.”

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