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“Name, sir?” The clerk asked.
“Clarence, Clarence Winchester.” Castiel showed him the ID that Dean made him, he laughed when Cas told him that he wanted his fake name to be Clarence, slapping Cas on the shoulder. Cas wasn’t sure why he had laughed, but it didn’t upset him, it wasn’t a hearty chuckle, but more like he let out a breath, so it didn’t bother him.
“All right, sir, here’s your key.” The young man seemed exceptionally giddy considering the time, but Castiel ignored it, even though he had this grace, he still needed sleep. He was cut off from Heaven, had no wings, and it wasn’t his grace, not his essence, so it wasn’t as powerful.
He shut the door, slowly, behind him, and locked it. He took off his coat, setting it on the torn leather chair in the corner, and then started toeing off his boots. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do tomorrow. He thought about possibly going to get a job tomorrow, or the day after. When he plopped into bed, he decided to go look for one the day after tomorrow. The bed was stiff, smelly, rickety, and stained, but it was a bed.
He thought about why he had chosen Clarence for a pseudonym, and the person who first called him that. He was hoping she would find him, maybe was even looking for him. He was hoping that she wasn’t hurt, and that she was happy.
He fell asleep thinking about her, her soul, the nickname Clarence, and how much he loved her.