One the scale of ‘adjustment to being human’ Ruby no doubt had a few more notches down than Castiel, though whether there was even the coldest of cold comfort to be taken in that was debatable. It was perhaps a measure of just how far he’d fallen, the fact that neither of the two conversations in which Cas had been absorbed – the (admittedly rather one-sided) discussion with his Father (which had started calmly enough and descended fairly rapidly into a dishevelled figure in a blooded trenchcoat yelling at the sky, one voice among millions petitioning an absent father, just another drunken hobo on another park bench under another uncaring sky) nor the dialogue with Gabriel – had done much to help him. The news of Dean’s resurrection was of course marvellous, but also troubling in regards to who it was who’d brought him back, and why, and to what end they’d decided it was better if Dean did not remember. The less said about the plans which had been made before said marvellous resurrection the better.
Castiel had always liked parks. He could, of course, remember when the world was all wild and green - before the rise of villages, towns, cities, before urban sprawl – and it had pleased him to think that the humans preserved some small scraps of that, recognised the necessity of surrounding themselves with even a tiny taste of the glory of his Father’s creation. Now, though, wandering through this one brought little pleasure because it wasn’t the raw creation he’d taken it for when observing; the lines were too neat, the staggering of the plants too ordered and numerical, the orders not to walk absurd. Was that what humans did, reduce things down? It was what they had done to him, certainly.
He had not expected to find Ruby here.
If his failure to find pleasure in conversing with his Family was proof of how far he’d fallen, then maybe the faint sting of guilt on seeking to confide in a demon again was proof that there was some way yet to go. Or perhaps it was merely the recognition that she no doubt had troubles of her own and did not need his burdens, because they had to have transcended the silly concerns of race by now. Lord knew, they’d been ignoring them long enough.
Stopping next to the bench, hands buried deep in his pockets, he nodded to the space beside her. “Is this seat taken?”