I knew as soon as Sam voiced the first word that Dean would be adamant I accompany him this morning. Sam was waiting at a police station, interviewing the sheriff for information on a string of mangled bodies: Seven, total. Vicious, animal-like attacks, but human teeth were found buried deep within the wounds. Regrettably, Sam had found, the teeth, each second and third molars, and, on one occasion, an incisor, did not match any DNA the office had on file.

This type of ordeal was not unusual for them, but the body count rose with each passing sunset, and Sam, in particular, was eager to hunt. Anxiety was present in his voice, and Dean, ever vigilant, ever protective, vowed to meet him there.

When Dean hung up the phone, his gaze found me, and he smiled. "So, Cas. We gotta go check it out. Sam's waiting. You ready?"

Time was of the utmost importance. With a creature this ravenous, it was only a matter of time before more than a dozen people were slain. "Of course. We will be there at once." I stepped forward, extending my hand to guide us there instantaneously. He stepped back as I approached. Confused, I stopped.

"I was thinking we could do this in the conventional way."

I paused. What did he mean, conventional? Would we walk? Immediate arrival would be much more efficient if the two were to catch the murderous thing that plagued the north side of Canton, Ohio.

"Dean, the conventions of hunting dictate that time is of the essence."

Dean slid his cellular phone into the left pocket of his jeans. It left a bulge, coupled with his wallet, that drew attention to the lower half of his body.

"Eyes up here, buddy."

"What?"

"I figured we could drive."

Canton was, in the time of man, a little over two hours away by automotive vehicle. I urged him to allow me to transport us.

Dean gradually inhaled and allowed his shoulders to rise with the expansion of his lungs. They slid down as he exhaled in a cloud of soft sighs. "I want to teach you to drive."

For a moment, I was silent.

"Dean. I am an angel of the Lord. I do not necessitate skills to operate any vehicle."

He watched me, his arms crossed against his chest in a manner that struck me as defiant. He tapped his fingers gently against the bicep of his opposing arm. One of his eyebrows was pointedly higher than the other. I found the corners of this vessel's mouth turn upward the slightest bit.

"What happens if Sam and I are down for the count, huh? What if you gotta load us up and drive us home?"

"Simple. I would transport us immediately wherever best to be."

He cracked his neck. The sound made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"You say that as if you've never been without your mojo. As I recall," he said, his voice dripping honey. It was unlike the gruffness he usually voiced, deep within his chest. "Without your powers, you're pretty much a baby in a trench coat."

I was overcome with the desire to silence him. His words struck true: Without my powers, I am indeed useless to them. This simple fact, one of my greatest fears and one of the most intense feelings of inadequacy a being like myself can experience, haunts me every day.

Perhaps, if Dean willed it, I could learn to drive the Impala.

"Fine." The word escape this vessel's lips before I thought it. Dean's smile widened as he quickly took my hand in his own. The warmness of his fingers startled me. It was electric and reminiscent of the down comforter on the hotel bed that Dean and I had experienced just a few nights prior. The kiss we shared was punctuated by sensory memories, of skin and bedding and a stray pillowcase. The dizziness the contact brought faded as I found myself in front of the driver's side door to Dean's "baby."

Dean, from the opposite side of the car, threw the silver keys at my head. My reflexes enabled me to catch them without breaking eye contact.

"Whoa, feeling a little tense there, Cas?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Let's get to it!" He opened the door to the car and slid into the passenger seat. I stared at the keys in my hand for a moment.

"…You coming?"

I peered into the car.

"Dean. I am unsure what to do next."

"…You gotta open the door."

I became suddenly aware of the tightness is my stomach: Dean's glee only served to heighten my discomfort. I took the handle and pulled, relieved that the door gave easily, and I was able to swing it open and ease myself into the driver's seat. I knew the rigidness my body had taken on would be a problem.

I heard his sigh: Heavy and sudden, intensely aware of my shortcomings. An angel masquerading as a human is maladroit: Far clumsier than one might think. I tried each key in the ignition, one after another, until I found the right one.

My anxiety gave way to a sudden calm. I felt the familiar sensation of Jimmy bubbling to the surface: His soul rose, warm and soothing, took its place within this mind, and for a while, I was glad to let myself recede to the back of this vessel. The sensation of falling from consciousness into the void is similar to falling into a nest of sorts. If my true form were present, it would be akin to cocooning myself within the span of wings. Even breath, rocking back and forth. Lightless. Static surroundings.

Jimmy smiled at Dean, and I was relieved. Dean's eyes lit up as clapped for me, for an accomplishment that was hardly mine, and Jimmy threw the stick shift into reverse. He backed the lush Impala out of the parking lot, and turned smoothly into the street.

"Geeze, Cas! Have you done this before?" Dean was supporting himself by leaning against the dashboard. His body was turned to look at this vessel, a look of bewildered pleasure mortared to his face. Jimmy grinned. "Sometimes I think I've done a lot more than I remember."

My desire to accompany Dean on this travel was intense, and from this thought I felt the enveloped wings fall from my mindless form. The sensation was unlike anything I have ever experienced: Jimmy's mouth and soul forming the words, but my grace filling the space between his skin and his blood, his teeth and his tongue. We worked together, two beings sharing the same space, seamlessly and unknown to Dean Winchester. His smile broke through the bond Jimmy and I shared, and for a split second, I again took control and accidentally jerked the steering wheel to the side. Dean yelped, and the anxiety returned.

"Cas!" Jimmy, again, filled the void where my own shortcomings ended.

"Sorry! Sorry. I'm good. We're good," I said through Jimmy's breath.

"You're what?"

As we merged onto the highway, I felt Jimmy slide into the back of my consciousness once again. The cruising speed was pleasant with the windows down, and Dean had put on an AC/DC tape that drowned out the speed of Jimmy's heart. It was not difficult to maintain speed: Dean reminded me several times to keep weight upon the foot that manned the gas pedal. With him, I managed.

It occurred to me, an hour out, that Dean's gaze was affixed on the collar bones of this vessel's body. The car was warm, and Jimmy had loosened the tie and unbuttoned the starched, white undershirt I wore each time I manifested myself. There was a long break between songs on the tape, and within the few seconds time, I heard Dean growl to himself. He arched his back and moved his hands to rest between his knees. He looked uncomfortable.

I said nothing, and managed to keep my eyes on the road.

"Alright, it's two exits away. About 18 miles. So up here, on M-14-"

"Why is the road a letter and a number?"

"Uh," Dean's voice faltered. "I don't know, man. It's just what they call the road."

"Is there a colloquial name?"

"Maybe. I dunno, Cas, I'm not from here. No, Cas!" He frantically pointed to my right. "…That was the exit."

My shoulders dropped as I continued to drive the Impala forward. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm not very good at this."

Dean sighed and laid a hand upon my thigh. "It's fine." He swatted at my leg twice, in quick succession. "Up here, though. Take this exit. We should be able to get back on the highway from there."

I drove, attempting to pay far more attention to Dean's detailed instructions. I failed at trying to change the music tape, and accidentally pulled the volume knob from the dashboard. It was clear my mind was occupied, but when it should have been focused on driving, I found my thoughts on the idea of Dean's mouth pressed against the neck of this vessel's body.

"Hey, uh," Dean's voice cracked midsentence. He cleared his throat and pointed at a mark on his roadmap. "Take a left up here. That's the exit we need to Canton."

With my thoughts elsewhere, Jimmy guided my hands and the wheel to the exit. As we drifted from the highway, I was overcome with the realization that I would need to explain to Dean, perhaps on some other occasion, that I was still unfamiliar with the mechanics of driving. Jimmy cannot guide me every time I am in need.

We pulled into the lot of the Canton Police Station. I heard something from deep within the car wail as I pulled the shift to "P", which, Dean told me, meant "park." I had trouble associating "P" with forcing the car into a stationary position. There is very little connection between that signifier and the meaning it entails.

My ragged breath exposed me as I practically leapt from the car. From the fear, from anxiety, and from the warmness of thoughts of Dean and I, I was breathless and unprepared for the feeling of solid ground. The drive was over. The adventure commenced. My fear was beginning to die as Dean appeared behind me.

"That was the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced," I said, referring to the pang of embarrassment from damaging the car.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. Just." I paused. "Unsettled."

"That's alright," he said gruffly. I heard the familiar noise of the joints in his fingers crack. One, two, and then the rest at once. He placed his hands behind my neck and began to press his fingers between the vertebrae. The small, circular movements made the anxiousness disappear. "I can always buy your affection with neck rubs."

"This is true," I whispered, "I am easily bought."