The motorcycle. Jack told him, but Castiel had forgotten. He slows to a stop at the side of the road next to Jack and stands next to his car with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders slumped but stiff.

"He would be mad at me, too." Castiel says, chin tiled up, staring off in the direction of the no longer visible temple. Frankly, he thinks he probably should be. He's angry with himself. He took the coward's way out, running and leaving someone else to deal with the problem. But it's just fact that Jack is stronger, and what were his alternatives? To sit and hash it out while they were hunted down like dogs? To find out once and for all if the creatures here are burnt at the taste of grace or if all their godly power means nothing so far from Heaven?

He sighs out through his nose, a sharp huff of dissatisfaction.

Then he looks to Jack again, refocusing.

"What even happened? The temple was fine until you arrived."

It isn't meant as an accusation, but it sounds like one.