fandomtownies | Streets of Fandom, Friday

Castiel had woken up that morning knowing exactly what he'd been doing wrong for the last year or so when it came to the Apocalypse. He'd been fighting against it, for one. Clearly, the answer was not to fight it, but to pick a side. Uriel and Lucifer had been right. It was time to stop denying it to himself.

But he was still stuck on the island. How could he further the devil's agenda when he was nigh-powerless and landlocked in another dimension?

Well, he'd have to convince Sam to say yes, naturally. And he should probably kill some people, but, well, to do that he'd have to actually get his hands dirty. He was all out of smite for the time being. He didn't want to have to touch people.

So he was on a hunt, hands dug deep into his pockets to avoid any accidental brushing of filthy human flesh, searching for Lucifer's One True Vessel to convince him of the wonderfulness of Lucifer's plans.

If only he knew he was actually looking for a yak.

[ooc: It took far too long to figure out what to do with my poor little angel here. Post is open!]