The weirdest thing for Sam is that...he knows this isn't the first time he's felt this. His soul being pulled from his body, that is. There's a moment where the memory TRIES to assert itself, but Castiel's sacrifice means that those memories are muted. Far away. It allows him to not only keep his feet but also swallow down any nausea that tries to assert itself.

He doesn't open his eyes until he feels a great weight on his shoulder, startling a bit to look up at a good-sized red-tailed hawk peering down at him.

And it might be more disconcerting if it didn't feel so RIGHT.

He holds out his arm, the way he's seen falconers in the movies do it, which earns a sort of hoarse chuckle from the hawk as she changes place from shoulder to forearm. "Probably don't want to do this very long. I'm a bit heavier than your usual weapons."

"True," he says after a moment. "Still lighter than the last winged thing I carried around."

"Castiel was drunk, that doesn't entirely count." Still, she shifts a bit and preens her feathers back into place before looking at him again out of one eye.

Sam's quiet before raising an eyebrow. "So. Manifestation of the soul, huh? Figures it would be a raptor."

"What can I say, Sam? You're a hunter at heart, even when you try to ignore it." Maybe not the most comforting, but his soul wasn't meant to be comforting for him. Just...truthful.