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Castiel lets out a soft and weary sigh as he slumps listlessly against the hard, cold rock of the cave he’s somehow managed to find shelter in. The last twenty four hours have been spent roaming from place to place, picking up the traveling whispers of darkness following him as he runs. Always running with the promise of danger behind him. The reassuring voice, that he refuses to acknowledge completely, a steady thrum against the snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves and the flapping of his wings as he shoves his way through the dense overgrowth that makes up this monster’s den.
His trenchcoat has become tattered much like his Grace has. There is dirt and grime desperately clinging to it but he doesn’t have the energy or the time to make it whole again. Not that it would do any good. The coat would only be dirtied, torn and destroyed once more. There is no use in trying to mend the tears when they will only be opened back up soon as he stumbles upon one of the things chasing after him. The coat, with its torn and frayed fabric, has become a symbol of himself. It is evidence of how ruined he is and how resigned he has become to his fate.
But here in this tiny temporary haven he’s discovered, which he knows he’ll have to leave soon enough, he settles down to clearly focus on the voice that has been his anchor. The one thing that has kept him going. He finally allows himself the fleeting pleasure of longing in silence as he listens to the one person who matters most to him saying his name again and again with a special kind of reverence Castiel has only dreamed of hearing on his hunter’s lips as he continues praying endlessly to him.
Dean is the sole reason Castiel is still putting forth the effort of evading the leviathan’s clutches. The only reason he hasn’t given up and given in. He does it all for Dean’s sake because without this distraction he provides Castiel knows Dean is next on their list. Once Castiel is gone and dealt with it’s Dean they will begin to hunt and as long as he still lives and breathes Castiel won’t let that happen. But Dean is just as stubborn, more so if Castiel is being honest, than the leviathan coming for him. His prayers are consistent, loud and determined and oh how Castiel wants nothing more than to answer back but he never can. Not if he wants to keep Dean out of harms way.
The joy of hearing Dean’s voice and reveling in the familiarity of it only lasts so long and soon Castiel feels himself sinking like a stone as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly and presses his forehead against his knees.
He wonders if this is how the rest of eternity will play out, with Dean and the army of leviathans at his heels. Something occurs to him, not for the last time, for it surely becomes a fear he can’t escape as soon as the thought is even formed. What if —his father forbid it wherever he may be— Dean died here in his pursuit? What would become of him? Was it possible to even die here in this place and if so, where did those who did perish go? Did they simply cease to exist or was there some other method of disposal for which Castiel was unaware?
Cas.
Dean’s prayer is clear as a bell and far too close for Castiel’s comfort. He lifts his head with widened eyes as he hears the faint sound of footsteps yards away from where he sits, tucked away in the cavern he found against the back wall. Castiel swallows and digs his fingernails into the fabric of the hospital scrubs he is currently clothed in willing himself to keep silent as he listens to Dean approach. He disappears just before Dean steps inside, regret and sorrow bitter on his tongue, and a few hours later when he’s found another place to hide and he settles down to rest he hears Dean’s voice again.
Don’t worry, Cas. I’m coming. Just sit tight. I’ll find you. I swear.
Castiel lets his head fall into his hands and the salty tears along with it.