[When it comes to being in the hospital, Castiel is the spirit of politeness and willingness to do what the staff asks of him. The few memories he have are ones he turns over in his mind repeatedly as if something new might be gleaned from them as he smiles at the nurses and lets the doctors finally pronounce him fit to leave. It's useless stuff on the whole: how the stars looked from the backseat of a loudly purring black car, the name 'Winchester', the word 'assbutt', a leather jacket hanging up, and someone dragging him along while shouting his name. It's all disjointed, not making any sense. His rescue from the car accident?]
[The nurses and doctors are kind in his opinion despite their inability to tell him much of anything. For some reason that doesn't bother Castiel in the least. He signs his name where they tell him, lets them look him over and advise him as they want to. When he's dressed, pronounced ready to go home, he steps outside of the hospital and studies the little card they gave him with directions to his home.]
[Strange, only 'Castiel' is written on the card, a smear where a last name would have been. The same happened in the hospital whenever he asked what his full name was. The reply had been garbled or the nurse didn't have it on that particular form. After awhile, he stopped asking. It didn't seem important.]
[He's standing before one of the Official Notice signs when he turns to whatever unfortunate happens to be walking by. At a glance, Castiel is nothing impressive... an accountant sort in an off the rack suit with a tan trenchcoat over it. Real confusion is on his face as he looks from the sign to them.] What does that mean? Is there somewhere else I should be going? Life before?
[With only his five memories, Castiel can't imagine yet wanting or needing to leave. He's more about trying to find his own house among all the others. The address card clutched in his hand is useless since he doesn't remember what the street names are.]
Option three: PTA Bakesale
[Castiel is pretty sure he offended the woman behind the stand when he had tried one of her peanut butter and jelly cookies. Without his memory, he had no idea why that particular thing had called to him. The taste had been overwhelming though. Angels (except for Gabriel) didn't eat or couldn't. They tasted things on the molecular level, and it was like being blasted with fifty levels of a single thing all at once. His hand pressed over his mouth, Castiel tries not to sick up the single bite he had taken. Gentle hands were on his shoulders, offering him water. Even it is a hit of its own that is unpleasant.]
[Apologies made with his best puppy eyes, he finally reassures her that he's not ill off her cooking. When the kind woman suggests maybe he had a peanut allergy he didn't remember, Cas is quick to take that out. He has no idea what an allergy feels like, but something tells him that isn't right. Eating and drinking doesn't appeal to him even if he likes the smell of things. Giving her what little money he had brought with him as a donation, he slips away to look over other stalls... to study the people around. All he wants is a familiar face or someone who recognizes him.]
[A flash comes from someone's camera and the black shadow of wings span out from Castiel's back in that instant, gone the next. Optical illusion, right? He doesn't notice it. Instead, he walks on to look over the next booth.]
Option four: on the network (un:castiel) (yeah, he's not that imaginative.)
I think I might be missing my car. I remember it, but it isn't in the garage. It's a black 1967 Impala. I think it has Kansas plates. I need to find it. Has anyone seen it?
Castiel | Supernatural
[When it comes to being in the hospital, Castiel is the spirit of politeness and willingness to do what the staff asks of him. The few memories he have are ones he turns over in his mind repeatedly as if something new might be gleaned from them as he smiles at the nurses and lets the doctors finally pronounce him fit to leave. It's useless stuff on the whole: how the stars looked from the backseat of a loudly purring black car, the name 'Winchester', the word 'assbutt', a leather jacket hanging up, and someone dragging him along while shouting his name. It's all disjointed, not making any sense. His rescue from the car accident?]
[The nurses and doctors are kind in his opinion despite their inability to tell him much of anything. For some reason that doesn't bother Castiel in the least. He signs his name where they tell him, lets them look him over and advise him as they want to. When he's dressed, pronounced ready to go home, he steps outside of the hospital and studies the little card they gave him with directions to his home.]
[Strange, only 'Castiel' is written on the card, a smear where a last name would have been. The same happened in the hospital whenever he asked what his full name was. The reply had been garbled or the nurse didn't have it on that particular form. After awhile, he stopped asking. It didn't seem important.]
[He's standing before one of the Official Notice signs when he turns to whatever unfortunate happens to be walking by. At a glance, Castiel is nothing impressive... an accountant sort in an off the rack suit with a tan trenchcoat over it. Real confusion is on his face as he looks from the sign to them.] What does that mean? Is there somewhere else I should be going? Life before?
[With only his five memories, Castiel can't imagine yet wanting or needing to leave. He's more about trying to find his own house among all the others. The address card clutched in his hand is useless since he doesn't remember what the street names are.]
Option three: PTA Bakesale
[Castiel is pretty sure he offended the woman behind the stand when he had tried one of her peanut butter and jelly cookies. Without his memory, he had no idea why that particular thing had called to him. The taste had been overwhelming though. Angels (except for Gabriel) didn't eat or couldn't. They tasted things on the molecular level, and it was like being blasted with fifty levels of a single thing all at once. His hand pressed over his mouth, Castiel tries not to sick up the single bite he had taken. Gentle hands were on his shoulders, offering him water. Even it is a hit of its own that is unpleasant.]
[Apologies made with his best puppy eyes, he finally reassures her that he's not ill off her cooking. When the kind woman suggests maybe he had a peanut allergy he didn't remember, Cas is quick to take that out. He has no idea what an allergy feels like, but something tells him that isn't right. Eating and drinking doesn't appeal to him even if he likes the smell of things. Giving her what little money he had brought with him as a donation, he slips away to look over other stalls... to study the people around. All he wants is a familiar face or someone who recognizes him.]
[A flash comes from someone's camera and the black shadow of wings span out from Castiel's back in that instant, gone the next. Optical illusion, right? He doesn't notice it. Instead, he walks on to look over the next booth.]
Option four: on the network (un:castiel) (yeah, he's not that imaginative.)
I think I might be missing my car. I remember it, but it isn't in the garage. It's a black 1967 Impala. I think it has Kansas plates. I need to find it. Has anyone seen it?