Work Text:
Ritual
0.
In all the time Dean had been in Purgatory- maybe weeks, maybe months, maybe years- he'd never before heard thunder.
The sound ripped across the sky above them, a deep cracked boom like an old building being demolished; explosion and then a split second of absolute silence before everything went to hell.
And how everything had gone to hell.
Fighting, surviving, that was all Purgatory had been. In those first days when he was alone and the world had been endlessly dark the only thing Dean had time to think about was stay alive, and get back to Sam. Fuck knew his brother couldn't be left alone too long.
Now there was Benny and there was Cas and Dean's life had narrowed down to keeping them alive too. Simple. Easy. Except where it was neither.
Dean knew it the moment he heard the thunder, saw lightning tear the thick gloom of what passed for daytime in Purgatory, that this could only be meant for them. Beside him Cas tensed, sword in hand in an instant. Cas looked up, eyes wide, maybe seeing something Dean couldn't because there was fear there. All Dean could see was thick metal-grey clouds and if they were anywhere but here Dean would've bet his life they were in for a rainstorm. But this was Purgatory and Dean had almost forgotten what rain felt like. The same way he had forgotten what it felt like to eat and feel full, to sleep and not feel tired when he woke up, to look at the world and not understand where it had all gone so fucking wrong and what he was supposed to do. This had to be some new monster. Some new creature bent on tearing out their throats, skinning them alive, sucking the marrow from their bones. Dean had heard it all, seen them try. And like all the others before, whatever this new threat was, Dean would put it down. That was what he did. That was what he was meant to do.
Before, once, Dean might've asked what they were dealing with. What to expect. Once he might have cared, but in this place there was only them and evil sons of bitches and nothing in between. Without thought Dean found himself lifting his weapon, eyes darting around them, expecting an attack.
They'd done this so many times- countless times- that Benny didn't ask questions. Just fell into formation at Dean's back, his hands gripping the handle of his weapon so tightly Dean could see his fingers turning white. Whiter.
The thunder sounded again, louder this time. Closer. Lightning brightened the sky around them, filling the washed-out world that had become Dean's life with shadows of colour.
Without warning, Cas broke formation, darting off into the trees back the way they'd just come. Something after him, then, Dean concluded. No matter how many times Dean told Cas to stick with them, that whatever was his problem was theirs too, the thick-headed angel just never seemed to listen. Even after all this time Cas didn't seem to believe that no matter what, Dean was not leaving him behind. Not for anything. The idiot never seemed to understand that by trying to bear everything himself he was making life one fuck of a lot harder for Dean, not easier.
"Cas!" Dean yelled. "Get the fuck back here!"
They'd had this argument so often it had gotten to the point where Dean was pretty sure they were repeating themselves, going around in circles. Like maybe they were reading from the script of some shitty daytime drama. But Cas wasn't hearing him. This was an argument Dean wasn't going to let up on. He wouldn't give an inch, not when he'd fought through what felt like half of freaking Purgatory to get Cas back.
Dean glanced towards Benny who, predictably, rolled his eyes but nodded.
They ran.
Once they'd dealt with whatever new fuckery this was, they were going to have this out all over again and Dean didn't give a shit if he sounded like a broken record. He didn't care if Benny threatened to cut off his own head if he had to listen to them one more time. He didn't care if Cas did that thing with his head that made Dean certain he was baffled by all this weird human shit.
Later.
Above him the sky lit up red and yellow. The forest around him expanded, contracted, like reality realigning itself or something. A drop of water hit his face, then another; rain, falling for the first time since Dean had arrived in this shit hole. It soaked through his clothes in seconds, hissed past his ears. Cold water stung his face as he ran, blinding him. Dean let his instincts take over, following the sounds of feet crashing through undergrowth, finding the centre of this storm. There was nowhere else Dean expected Cas to be. He could sense Benny somewhere not far behind, covering his back. Nothing had jumped out at them yet. Nothing had tried to sneak up on them. That was how purgatory worked: you were attacked. You survived or you didn't. This, Dean's every instinct told him, was something else. The rain itself, slapping against his face, tasted sour on his lips. It burned his skin and Dean thought of poison. Acid rain, slowly gnawing away at them. There was no shelter in Purgatory. Nowhere to hide.
"Cas!" Dean yelled again. It was unlikely to call Cas back but it helped release some of the fury in Dean's gut. Some of the fear that he was going to lose Cas all over again.
The trees thinned, and Dean caught a flash of tan trench coat ahead of him. He sped up, losing sight of Cas again and thunder rumbled and cracked angrily above them. Then, a flash of lightning striking and too close- way too close- part of the endless forest erupted into fire. Dean could feel the heat of it against the side of his face, a contrast to the ice water running down the back of his neck. Not even that was going to stop him. He kept running, breathing heavily now. Despite how much running he did here, how much fighting, Dean had long since noticed that his body never changed. He didn't eat but he was never hungry. Some days they ran for miles and miles and it had never gotten any easier, like his body here wasn't real. Like it didn't know any other way to be.
Another lightning bolt. Dean heard the second it touched earth, sparking and crackling. Not normal. But then, what was normal in Purgatory anyway?
Another bolt, ahead of him, close to where Cas had to be and oh shit this was not his life. If the freaking weather was after Cas now they were truly fucked.
An explosion of fire erupted in front of him and Dean was forced to stop, stumbling back as a wave of heat washed over him. He shied away, shielding his eyes and his face. He smelled a sickly sweet smell, like burning plastic. It made him gag and Dean had to cover his mouth and nose with his hand as he tried to pick his way around the fire.
A hand on his shoulder pulled him away, backtracking. Not the way Cas had gone.
"We can't go this way," Benny hissed in his ear.
Dean grit his teeth, pulled away. "We have to. Benny-"
"Yeah. I've heard it enough times. We're not leaving him. But he isn't worth burning to death for."
That, Dean thought, was where they were different. Like he'd do anything for Sam. Like he'd do most anything for Benny. He'd do the same for Cas.
Benny must have seen it in his eyes because he threw up his arms in disgust. "You are one messed up bastard, Dean Winchester."
"So they tell me."
Dean surveyed the forest around them, half aflame, half flooded as water washed over bone-dry soil. There was no clear path so Dean did what he always did; he made his own.
Lightning struck again and again close together, and every time it did it brought fire and thunder, lit up the sky blue and the leaves to a bright green. That was where Dean headed, picking his way around smouldering undergrowth. The colours of the ashes and the fire were almost blindingly bright. Smoke wreathed through the trees, thick and choking.
Finally, coughing and scorched and his hands so cold his fingers felt numb, Dean broke through a line of trees to find himself on a strip of beach. The fine sand gave under his boots, clumped together and water-logged. And before a dark, black-surfaced lake stood Cas, fighting lightning. It reached out, crawled across Castiel's arms leaving behind black spidery marks burnt into the fabric of his coat when he shook it off. A bolt went for his neck, grabbed hold and squeezed and holy shit Dean could see the lightning cutting into skin.
It was winning.
Castiel was fighting, but it was winning.
Behind him, Benny came to a sudden stop, his voice open surprise. "This is new."
Yeah. Cas just seemed to bring all the awesome crap to the yard.
Without a clue how he was meant to fight off lightning, Dean launched himself towards Cas anyway. It was killing him; Dean could see the white angel-light filling Cas's eyes, spilling from his nose. No way was Dean going to let that happen.
Cas must've caught sight of Dean out the corner of his eye because Dean could see his mouth forming his name. Probably telling him to back the fuck off. Probably saying it was hopeless, because that's all Cas ever did these days.
It was easy to ignore Cas.
Bright red blood stained his lips, a stark contrast to that blinding angel light that Dean had come to hate.
Somewhere behind him Dean could hear Benny yelling but couldn't make out the words; the rain was too heavy, the thunder so loud Dean could feel the sound in his teeth. He raised his weapon. It hadn't failed him yet.
This close Dean could feel the heat of the lightning, see it spark and crackle. It flexed, alive as Dean took aim for the arm holding Cas. Squeezing and burning the light out of him. Cas's hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaked and Dean wondered if he felt the cold. This place messed up the senses, turned everything upside down and twisted so that Dean had learned never to trust what he saw or heard. Dean wondered if it was the same for the angel.
Maybe he wasn't really seeing a lightning-monster attacking Cas. Maybe it was all another of Purgatory's tricks. But whatever it was, Cas was bleeding.
Bringing the blade down, Dean felt burning heat engulf his hands, smelled burning flesh. In the next instant he was being shoved back, thick whip-lines lashing against his arms and his chest. His weapon was ripped from his hand and Dean hit the ground hard. Soft, sodden sand cushioned his landing. He recovered quickly, rolling up onto his knees, eyes searching for his blade. Beneath him the sand shifted, slid away, as he tried to stand.
Too slow, he thought desperately.
Cas was dying right in front of him and he was going to be too slow.
The thunder was deafening now, the lightning hot and bright, crackling in a way that made Dean think of laughter.
Cas was looking right at him, eyes wide but calm, like he accepted this. Like he was okay with his life ending this way.
Fuck that. Dean wasn't okay with that. Would never be okay with that and he struggled harder to get his feet under him, to try and think of something. Anything.
The lightning intensified, arms like electrified wire winding around Cas.
Dean looked right back at Cas. "Don't."
Suddenly too loud, too bright, Dean instinctively turned away, covered his ears and shut his eyes and prayed to Cas, knowing the fucker would hear him, to live dammit. To fight. Or Dean would never forgive him.
He could've sworn he heard Cas whisper, "I won't," into his head before everything went white.
1.
The glass was tough, but Dean wrapped it in his undershirt carefully, not much caring that the sharp corners cut easily through the skin of his fingers.
He made Benny stop as often as he could get away with, checking the heavy, opaque sheet was still tied securely to his chest, paranoid it would fall and shatter. Benny bitched and whined; You're crazy, and This is slowing us down, and This is going to get us killed, but he made no move to leave without them, and he made no attempt to touch the glass. Dean guessed it was all talk.
It wasn't like Dean hadn't considered the idea that maybe he had finally snapped. Maybe he was talking to a lump of glass because he couldn't- wouldn't- accept that Cas was dead.
But as he ran from the lake, glass clutched in his hands and not quite knowing how he'd gotten there but compelled to move, Dean would’ve sworn he could hear Cas; not words, but more like that weird knowing you had when you heard someone familiar's footsteps approaching.
There had been nothing left of Cas, just sand fused into glass where he'd been standing. Dean hadn't thought. He'd reacted. Or Cas had made him react. Or he'd lost his mind. The glass hadn't burned his hands when he'd grabbed it, even though the surface was still soft- had to still be hot.
It was the lightning that convinced Dean this was Cas.
It hissed and sparked furiously, following them as they ran and Dean was really fucking sick of running. He wanted his car and he wanted to see something other than trees and trees and endless freaking trees.
Didn't stop him running, even knowing it was impossible to outrun the weather. Even knowing he couldn't win a fight against lightning.
He had the idea this wasn't lightning, that this was more ancient than that and Dean saw things he didn't understand; colour and sound more than any kind of reality. A great nothing filled with everything. He saw with eyes that weren't eyes and ears that heard potential and Dean gritted his teeth, whatever the hell was going on his head. It was disorienting, dizzying, and Dean's stomach turned ominously.
Not helping, Cas, he thought, and the weirdness cut out.
Yeah. Definitely Cas. Also, how was anything older than the weather?
This time static filled his head, a buzzing and a hissing that reminded Dean of the first time he'd heard Cas's voice and it had hurt and if that was supposed to be some kind of explanation then Cas really needed to work on his grasp of the English language. But then, he was currently a plate of glass. Not so much with the talking.
What he did get though was urgency, impetus: run. Somehow he knew this thing would wear itself out if he could just keep going a little longer.
Dean's legs ached, his ankles stung where the lightning had whipped at his heels, burning through his shoes. It was awkward to run with his arms wrapped around himself, anchoring the glass. He'd had worse.
You owe me for this, Cas, Dean thought and immediately regretted it when his mouth was filled with the taste of good whisky and it felt like gratitude. Way too weird. But he appreciated the effort.
The path they were following- and Dean was certain he'd never seen a path anywhere in Purgatory before- twisted around thick patches of forest, slowly beginning to slope upwards. This would slow them down. Coming to a stop, Dean waited for Benny to catch up. Lightly, he let his fingers find the rough surface of the glass hidden away in his jacket. Still warm.
"You keep fondling that," Benny snorted, "You're gonna break it."
Asshole.
Taking a deep breath, Benny leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. They couldn't keep this pace up much longer. Blinking rainwater from his eyes Dean could see that the lightning was much further behind them now, striking less and less frequently. Maybe they could do this.
"We keep going," he told Benny. No arguments.
Benny's face twisted in disgust, but he nodded. "The things I do for you, Dean."
"Ah, you love it," Dean grinned. "Your afterlife would be boring without me."
A part of his mind filled with the thought that his afterlife would be permanent without Dean, eternity spinning out before him in endless Gladiator re-runs. The thought was tinged with irritation and Dean was pretty certain that could only have been a pissed off Cas.
He moved on, veering off the path to avoid the slope. The ground was sodden now, forest floor turned to thick mud that stuck to Dean's boots. It was hard going. Dean ignored the weird memory of looking down at his feet and seeing shoes and realising they existed for the first time. They were dry. Cas was a smug bastard, Dean decided.
Slowly, the thunder died away, no longer shaking the trees around. The bright flashes of lightning dissipated and the sky slid back to dull, endless grey. The rain petered out but Dean didn't dare stop even then. As far as he could put between them and whatever this thing was, the better.
And why does this thing want Cas? Dean wondered. Sometimes they wanted his blood. Sometimes they wanted his flesh. Sometimes they just wanted to kill him; something holy and pure that was everything the creatures of Purgatory could never hope to be.
In his head there was no disorienting attempt at explanation. More secrets.
At that thought, Dean saw the memory of himself arguing with Sam about Days of our Lives, snatching TV controls from each other and throwing popcorn at each other.
And what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Another memory, this time of pain and agony and love and hope all mixed into one and at the same time Cas - Castiel- pleading with his brothers in every cut to his wings and every blow he took to his Grace to just understand.
Dean screwed his eyes closed.
You can't explain, Dean guessed. Just one more thing in Purgatory that wanted them dead. I get it. Kind of. The memory was gone but the ache of it lingered. The betrayal a bitter tang and Dean knew that wasn't coming from him.
This should probably have freaked him out more, but it somehow made sense. As much as anything made sense in Purgatory. And this was Cas. It wasn't like he was in his head, reading his mind or anything- which Dean was almost certain Cas could do if he wanted to anyway- it was more like someone whispering in your ear, suggesting you run rather than walk. That you listen.
Dean would listen. This time, Dean would listen. So Cas had better listen too.
He saw the lightning choking Cas, heard his own demanding prayer that Cas live and Dean realised that yeah, okay, maybe he and Cas were doing that communicating thing Sam was always talking about here.
They kept moving forward long after they'd heard the last rumble of distant thunder; a sensation of Cas's first resurrection- of his being undone and then remade anew that made Dean's skin crawl but told him the thunder had been a warning. It would be back.
Could've just used Terminator for that one, Dean groused, itching his arms where the memory of skin being pulled back over muscle and bone lingered.
It wasn't until darkness fell that they stopped, too dangerous to go on. Sometimes they did anyway, Dean led by Cas or Benny, trusting them to not let him fall over and break his ankles in the dense undergrowth, or to let him be eaten by any one of the howling creatures that inhabited the night. But not tonight, with Cas made of glass and Dean sodden and shivering. Before the gloom of dusk had fallen away to the pitch blackness of night in Purgatory Dean had seen the scowl on Benny's drawn face. They were both exhausted, and maybe tonight Dean would actually remember how to sleep. It was hard when the world became filled with burning red eyes that reminded Dean way too much of hell hounds. There were always screams. Never before had Dean known darkness like this; absolute, thick as tar. It was like being smothered, disorienting when there was nothing but the ground beneath him to remind Dean which way was down. During these long nights Dean’s instincts told him to remain alert, to listen where he couldn't see, making sleep almost impossible.
They huddled beside old trees, backs to trunks almost as wide as cars. The ground was still wet, damp soaking through Dean's already uncomfortable jeans. He could feel Benny shifting somewhere close beside him. Missed the warmth of Cas on his other side where the angel should have been. They were silent, not wanting to attract any more attention than they had to. Dean held his blade close.
You're really there, right? Dean thought. I'm not going mad?
Which was a stupid thing to ask, because if he was mad he wasn't exactly going to admit that to himself.
Dean pressed the glass closer to his chest, wishing he could touch the surface again but not willing to release the grip on his weapon. And, he reminded himself, Benny could still see in this darkness. And would laugh at Dean. Again.
But Cas was clearer- his meaning more intelligible- when Dean touched the glass.
An image of that old, rattling barn where Dean had first met Cas- Castiel- filled Dean's mind. Dark wings splayed in shadows across the wall, and Castiel introduced himself and sometimes Dean dreamed about that night. That unbelievable, impossible night.
So how do you fit those wings in there? Dean wondered. He kind of wished he could see the glass. There hadn't been time earlier. He wondered if he would see a trench coat, or Cas's face, or something he recognised.
In reply, Dean felt imprisoned, trapped, his body twisted and broken into too small a space.
Well, shit.
The thought of Cas existing like that, breaking himself, made Dean feel kind of sick. How do I get you out? he demanded.
Nothing.
No idea. Not a clue. Dean didn't even know if Cas's body still existed somewhere or if it had been fried along with the sand. But this was Purgatory, where they weren't supposed to have bodies anyway and who the fuck knew. Cas wasn't answering, and that was not encouraging.
We'll deal with it, Dean decided. They always did. They'd find a way. And if Dean had to carry a lump of glass around, well, he'd do that too.
An image of the Impala, shining black and well-loved, flashed into Dean's vision and Dean snorted.
You are so not comparing yourself to my baby.
Then there was an image of the demon-killing knife, sharp, imbued with old magic that smelled of Hell. And then a weird memory that somehow Dean was ancient; a man hunched over a blade, shaping and sharpening it against stone with callused, tired hands.
Dean realised with horror what Cas was trying to say. I'm not turning you into a freaking weapon, Cas. Jesus. Not least because he was made from fucking glass. There was no way he would so much as scratch the glass if he could help it.
Irritation bled into him, and Cas showed him a room, and in it Dean was breaking his hand across Cas's face.
Yeah, yeah. You're a tough son of a bitch.
Dean was glad, he really was, that Cas was okay- sort of okay- but he still missed his constant, familiar presence at his side. There was never much time for talking, but it was enough that Cas was there, right where he should always have been, fighting beside Dean. They never talked about before. They never talked about what was going to happen if- when- they returned topside. Just so long as he knew Cas was alive and okay Dean found that he didn't really care.
He shivered, yawning and had to shake his head to try and stay awake. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this exhausted. So worn down.
A memory of Cas standing in a motel room with brown and green peeling wallpaper watching Dean as he slept nudged at his mind. Cas's stalkery streak never stopped being creepy.
I'm not sleeping, Dean insisted, even though his eyes were closing, too heavy to stay open, his grip on the blade loosening. He fought it. The night was dangerous, unpredictable, and Dean needed to be ready. Except that Cas was whispering dreams into his head and that was just fucking cheating.
He fell asleep to the memory of driving, with Sam beside him and Cas in the back seat, music blaring and a warm breeze blowing in through the open window. It was evening, the sky streaked with deep blues and reds, and a blur of purple-shadowed scenery sped past, indistinct and irrelevant.
2.
Werewolves type three, Dean had named them: the intelligent, twisted ones that liked to play with their food. Dean had long since lost count of how many of the fuckers he'd killed.
They stalked their pray, hunted in packs, and running from them was the worst thing you could do. So Dean didn't. Not even with Cas as delicate as he was.
It was easy to make out Cas's annoyance at being called delicate.
Well next time, Dean thought, Turn into stone or something.
In his head Dean saw stone shatter to dust. Dean frowned. Okay, let's not jinx this.
Beside him, Benny snapped, "Stop talking to your paperweight and concentrate on the fight, brother."
More annoyance from Cas, overlaid with the memory of him burning to dust the vampire Lenore.
You're an awesome paperweight, Dean assured him. Now keep it down.
It was dawn, which in Purgatory meant a slow creeping greyness. This was the time Werewolves liked to hunt, surrounding their prey in the dark, taking them out as soon as there was enough light to see by. They'd been complacent the night before and now they were paying for it.
The biggest, ugliest Werewolf licked its lips, looked directly at Dean's chest where he had an arm wrapped around Cas. The rest of the pack fidgeted restlessly, like they were waiting for something to go wrong, but couldn't seem to look away.
You know what they can see? Dean asked. He couldn't imagine an angel made of glass would be a particularly tasty meal.
In response Dean saw colour upon colour upon colour, refracted in on itself a thousand times over. It was mesmerising.
That's you? No wonder the Werewolves were entranced. And freaked out. It was beyond weird.
An affirmative in the form of a nod, a handshake. Agreement.
It was undeniably pretty. Dean was keeping that one to himself.
In front of him the leader of the pack stalked forward, growling in what it thought was a menacing way. It was hard to be scared when you'd seen this routine maybe a hundred times.
Still, with Cas like this Dean didn't want to take any chances. He didn't take a step back though, knowing that would only incite the pack to attack. Instead, Dean took the opportunity of their distraction, their confidence, to strike out.
The blade of his weapon was sunk deep into the leader's throat before it even had time to react. Blood poured from its neck, sliding down the handle of Dean's weapon to soak the cuffs of his jacket. Its last breaths were a sickening wet wheezing sound before it fell back, dead.
Sometimes the pack fled when their leader was killed. It was just Dean's luck that this time they did the opposite.
Screaming, howling, enraged the remaining Werewolves- five of them- launched themselves at Dean. Benny caught one in the chest and it swung away, but after that all Dean could concentrate on was staying in one piece. They slashed with their long, yellow claws, grasping for where Cas was hidden under his jacket. The glass protected him from their cuts, the Werewolves hissing and drawing back as nails scraped against the surface, but Dean didn't know what that was doing to Cas. If it hurt him. He sliced off their hands, aimed for their arms, hacking at them. He felt them slice him and stab at him, not really caring or knowing how many there were, just that they needed to get the fuck off of Cas. Dean cleaved their heads in two, cut them down, kind of liked the way they howled in agony and gurgled as they choked on their own blood. Until there was only one standing.
There was only one standing, and in the confusion and the violence and the bloodlust it had ripped Cas from Dean's jacket, and now held him in its bloody, foul hands.
Cas had been silent. Dean should've known. He should've noticed that Cas hadn't been there.
The Werewolf held the glass up to the light, and Dean saw it for the first time; bright, beautiful thing. The way it caught the light- even the dull, lifeless light of Purgatory- and reflected it in itself. Dean saw Cas, almost blinding, but he couldn't look away.
Not until the Werewolf howled in agony, its eyes widening in pain. Not until the monster bared its teeth, raised the glass up in one hand, threw it down with such force that the glass splintered and shattered as it hit the ground. Dean heard it crack, and it sounded like pain. He saw pieces scatter and remembered what Cas had shown him; his own being broken and twisted to fit and how the hell could he have broken himself even more to fit in one of those shards?
Dean went cold, found that well-known rage and hatred in the pit of the stomach that drove him on, kept him fighting those times he didn't believe he was ever going to escape Purgatory.
The Werewolf held its own hand close to its chest, bent its knee in a way that looked to Dean like it was going to kick the pieces away. Without thinking Dean ran forward, swung his blade, taking the bastard's head clean off. He didn't wait for the body to drop before he was on his knees, scrabbling in the dirt for Cas. The ground was still damp, clumped together from the torrential rain the day before, muddy water soaking into his jeans.
"Come on, come on," Dean murmured under his breath, gathering sharp shards, the tiniest pieces he could find even when they cut at his fingers, hoping to hear Cas. Something. Anything.
He felt Benny's hand on his shoulder, heavy and cold. "He's gone, my friend."
"No." Dean crawled on his hands and knees, combing the undergrowth, putting the pieces he found in his pocket. "You know how many times people have told me Cas was gone?" A large shard shone, half hidden under tangled roots and decaying leaves and Dean dug it out. It was silent when he touched it. "Too many, man. I won't believe it." Cas was like him and Sam: a survivor. There had been no angel light. No blinding explosion. No black, charred wings. Cas was somewhere and Dean was going to find him.
Dean glanced at Benny, who was looking at Dean like he'd gone crazy. "Help me collect him up." And that probably didn't help dispel the idea that maybe Dean had lost it, but there were so many pieces.
Benny shook his head, his expression tense. "Your hands, Dean."
Blood, Dean saw. His fingers smeared with blood where the glass had sliced easily through skin. That was going to hurt like a bitch later, but at the moment Dean didn't care.
"If you're not gonna help," Dean scowled, "get out of my light."
Benny raised his hands in surrender, took a step back. "I'll watch your back."
Dean nodded his head in thanks, went back to collecting the pieces. There were too many, too small.
Up ahead there was a shallow pool of water. It looked too clean for all the mud Dean was wading in. Shards of glass littered the waterline, shimmered under the water. Something about it, in the surface, made Dean certain Cas was there.
Reaching into the water to retrieve glass Dean was immediately hit by the sensation of warmth curling around his finger, and a whisper asking, "Dean?"
The voice was faint, distorted, like hearing sound underwater, but it was unmistakably Cas. This wasn't like the memory thing, this was Cas talking straight into his head.
"Fuck. Cas." Dean pushed his hand deeper into the pool until the cuffs of his jacket were getting wet, hoping he'd be able to hear better. Maybe now he could get some straight answers. Maybe now he could be certain this was all real.
"Where are you?" Dean asked. "Which are you?" There were a whole bunch of glass shards in the pool, all small and sharp-looking. At least Cas would be more portable.
Warm threads wrapped around his fingers, tugging at Dean, a touch like forgiveness and strength and absolute conviction that something in Dean remembered.
"Shit." Dean stared at the pool. He could see his own face reflected in the surface. Above him the arch of red and orange leaves stretching across the sky; grey and still.
The last time he'd felt this touch he'd been nothing more than an animal. A feral, furious thing that revelled in pain and suffering and had almost forgotten who had once been. Cas had reminded him in that dark place. At the time he'd hated him for it.
"This is you," Dean whispered. "Shit. This is you." Not a vessel. Not a dream. Castiel.
Benny kneeled down beside him, looking in confusion between Dean and the pool. "You talking to yourself?"
The touch tightened around his hand.
"Yes." Cas's voice. "The glass was broken. I can survive here, for a time."
"For a time? What the hell does that mean?"
"That I can't stay here indefinitely, and neither can you."
"Who are you talking to?" Benny asked, shifting closer- too close- to the water edge, distorting the water line as mud shifted under his weight.
Dean's arm shot out, stopping Benny from moving. "Careful, man. You're messing up Cas."
"You need serious help," Benny frowned.
"He's a freaking angel," Dean reminded him. "He's the- I dunno. Water or something."
Benny's expression turned doubtful. "Water don't have ears."
"Yeah and it can't talk either but I can hear him. Just put your hand in the water."
The look of horror on Benny's face at the suggestion would've been hilarious if Cas hadn't chosen that moment to squeeze Dean's hand really fucking hard in irritation.
Backing up, raising his hands, Benny shook his head. "No way I'm intruding on your territory, brother."
"He's not my- Jesus, Cas. You're gonna break my hand."
Cas's touch withdrew completely and all Dean could think was that the damned idiot was sulking. Jesus but he was sick of dealing with both of their shit.
Dean turned to Benny, who was hovering awkwardly a few steps away. They'd been fighting at each other's backs long enough that Dean could tell he was nervous. Yeah. They were hanging around for too long again. Sooner or later something was going to track them down. A lot of things were going to track them down if the evil fuckers that inhabited Purgatory could still sense Cas's presence.
He heard the faint whisper, "They can."
Well, awesome then.
"Look, we just need to find something to carry him in, right?" Dean offered.
"Right," Benny rolled his eyes. "Because I got my water bottle right up my sleeve here."
"Then, I dunno, we can make something. We made weapons." He picked up his blade which he'd thrown down in the mud when he'd found the pool. "I mean," he turned back to the water. "How much water do you need?"
There was a long pause before Cas replied. "More than you can carry easily. You should-"
"You finish that sentence Cas and I'm gonna drink you."
Behind him, Dean heard Benny swearing under his breath, muttering, "I do not need to hear this." Louder, Benny announced, "I'm gonna check the perimeter. You stay alert." When Dean looked back to nod his agreement he saw something like pity in Benny’s eyes.
"We can't stay here," Benny added over his shoulder as he stalked away. As though Dean didn't know that.
Close by lay the cooling corpses of a Werewolf pack. Under his hand Cas had said it was still angel open-season in Purgatory. They didn't have a whole lot of time before something caught the scent of fresh kill. The scent of Cas. It wouldn't be long until they were overrun, and how the hell was he supposed to protect a freaking puddle anyway.
"You're not," he heard Cas say.
"I warned you," Dean hissed in reply. "I won't leave you."
"You have no choice."
"Turn into something else. Become one with a log or something."
A tentative brush against his fingertips; apology. "It doesn't work like that."
"Then how does it work?" Dean demanded. "You tell me what to do. I'll do it."
Hesitation.
"You know a way."
No reply, but distorted emotion bled into Dean; not fear or hope or anything as simple as that. Anything as human as that. This was tangled faith, twisted loyalty. Maybe like this Cas couldn't hide so easily. Couldn't lie.
"Come on." Dean swept his hand slowly through the clear water, and he was totally not thinking about how this was Cas he was touching, that surrounded him. So not thinking that. "I know you do."
In the distance, thunder sounded in a low rumble. Dean froze. The water that is Cas cooled under his hand.
Looking up, the permanent grey of Purgatory's sky rolled overhead, unsettled. The air was heavy with the threat of rain.
"It's that thing. It's coming back." Dean wanted to ask Cas how it had found them, what it wanted, how he could kill it. One problem at a time.
"You tell me right the fuck now, Cas."
Benny's footsteps were loud as he ran towards Dean, calling, "We gotta go."
"Cas," Dean demanded.
"There is a way to- return me to my human vessel." Cas sounded uncertain, like he didn't want to talk about this. But if it got Cas back to normal Dean was determined to get the information out of the idiot angel whether he liked it or not.
"Now's the time to spill." A pause as Dean considered the pool of water. "No offence."
Somewhere overhead, closer now, thunder sounded again. The first drops of rain began to fall.
"Dean," Benny warned.
"Yeah, I know." Dean waved him away. "What do we do, Cas?"
"There is a spell," he explained. "It is complex and it requires- sacrifice."
Dean sucked in a breath. Sacrifice was never a good thing where magic was involved.
"Okay," Dean encouraged. "What kind of sacrifice?"
"Blood."
Not as bad as he'd thought. "Got plenty of that."
Lightning flashed across the sky, stretching, branching out in a way that made Dean think it was searching for something. For them.
The rain fell harder, disturbing the surface of Cas's pool. Dean hunched over him, trying to keep the rain out, not knowing if it would hurt Cas.
"No, Dean." Cas's tone was somehow both sad and annoyed. "The spell would require almost all of your blood."
Of course it would. Dean should've known it wouldn't be that easy. And in this place, losing so much blood would leave Dean unable to protect himself. Weak.
"We can't do it." Cas wound himself around Dean's hand, and it felt a whole fuck like he was trying to say goodbye.
"Hell, no. We'll do it. I'll be fine." It would suck, but he'd survived worse. Benny would protect them. They would find a way because Dean had sworn he would never leave anyone behind again and he meant to keep that promise.
Then, a blinding flash of light and the trees and the undergrowth around them exploded into flames. Dean heard Benny yelling, and he heard Cas's voice telling him to go, there was no time, and if Dean heard someone tell him that one more freaking time he was going to break something.
The thunder was almost directly above them now, lightning ripping apart the forest where it hit the ground, rain suddenly pouring down in sheets. No matter how much Dean tried to shield the pool, rain poured into it, mud dirtying the pristine water. He felt Cas shudder, withdrawing deeper into himself.
A hand landed heavily on Dean's shoulder, pulling him away.
"We have to go," Benny growled.
The forest was on fire again, worse the time. Smoke curled thick and black where water hit flame but not enough to dampen the heat any. Dean could feel it hot against his cheeks, creeping closer, crackling and hissing and popping.
It knew. It knew Cas was here and it was razing everything to the ground to get to him. They were surrounded by flames, Benny had a hand over his face, gritting his teeth, the heat too much to bear.
Dean knew this choice: leave or die.
"Leave," Cas begged. Every instinct begged him to just go.
But he couldn't. Not again. Not this time. He'd fight. He would hold Cas in his hands. He would try.
As lightning struck again too near and new flames roared to life Dean dug his hands into the water where he felt the warmth that he guessed was Cas. Cupping his hands tightly he pulled him away from the pool, knew he was still there because Dean could hear Cas's confusion, his pain. But Cas let him anyway. It was a chance. He moved to stand, his eyes meeting Benny's scowl. This could work. They could make it. Find a new pool. Water slipped through Dean's fingers and Dean could tell Cas was trying to hide how much this hurt him.
Benny grabbed Dean's weapon and they ran. They hadn't gotten far when the ground under them was suddenly gone, dirt in Dean's face, a blast of excruciating heat ripped through him.
Don't pass out, Dean told himself. He'd lose Cas and it would be his fault. Don't fucking pass-
3.
Everything was burning. The air was ash. This was a place painted red and orange and black that licked at skin and blistered flesh and made blood boil. It was like Hell, and Dean would know. Here, too, the fires roared as though they were alive and hungry. Here too Dean's lungs heaved and choked and were seared from the inside out with the heat. And here was Castiel's voice, a murmur in a language that hurt Dean's ears and he couldn't understand the words but somehow he knew their meaning. The last time he'd heard that voice he hadn't known this Castiel. He hadn't known he was Dean. He hadn't remembered the world or thought there had ever been anything other than the pits and the pain of Hell.
It was difficult to remember that this wasn't Hell. This was Purgatory. Maybe he was dying, if you could die in Purgatory. Maybe he was imagining Cas was there because he wanted him to be. Cas had saved him from the flames before.
But then Dean remembered.
It hurt but he brought his hands up to his face; they were burned red and black. Dry. He'd held Cas in his hands and he'd fucked that simple thing up. If he could hear Cas's voice it was because he didn't have enough air and he was hallucinating. Or maybe it was an echo of Cas, haunting Dean because he'd failed him when he'd said it would be okay.
Except, his angry ghosts didn't usually talk to other people. Not even in his head.
He heard Benny complaining, "Turn it down, will you? You'll fry us."
"Maybe you," Cas said testily.
"Wha-?" Dean tried. His throat too dry. Too much smoke. The smell of it was almost overpowering.
"Dean." Benny's voice. "Open your eyes, brother."
The smoke made his eyes water, stinging, but blinking he could just about make out Benny hovering above him.
No Cas.
He sat up quickly, regretting it when his head spun and his stomach turned in a way that made Dean certain he was going to puke. "Where is he?" he demanded anyway, putting his hands flat on the ground so that he didn't fall flat on his face. "Cas?" He couldn't see him, and even fucking worse they were surrounded by flames, burning high and furiously.
Benny had an arm around Dean's shoulders, huddled close and- Dean guessed- as far away from the fire as he could get.
It was weird how the flames encircled them but didn't come any closer.
"You get one guess where he is." Benny tilted his head towards the wall of fire around them and just, Jesus fucking Christ why was this his life?
"You're kidding me." Thirst touched his throat in a way it hadn't in weeks or months or however long it had been since Dean had forgotten that humans needed water to survive.
"This is no joke," the fire crackled in Cas's voice, which was just too weird.
"You couldn't find something a little less fucking lethal to hop into?"
"That's what I wanted to know," Benny said.
"I told you." Pissed again and the fire burned a brighter red. "It doesn't work that way. The opportunity presented itself. I took it."
Dean should've been glad for it and, really, he was. He'd take Cas any way he came. Except that rain was well known for being able to put out fire.
The ground under Dean was dry. The downpour over and the sky fallen silent. There was no way of knowing how long that would last. It was still light but the shadows the fire threw out made it impossible for Dean to work out how long he'd been out of it. Not that it mattered much. Cas was here. Benny was here. He was alive for the most part. The rest he could deal with.
"Can you move like this?" he asked.
"As fire can."
Whatever the hell that meant.
"By burning stuff?"
"Yes."
"Can you be- y'know- a little smaller? More a torch than an inferno?" Dean knew what he was asking when the fire hissed and Dean remembered what Cas had felt when he was stuffed inside the glass; trapped. Broken in half. "Sorry, man. Maybe you can- I dunno- follow?"
It was Purgatory anyway. What the fuck did he care if it burned to the ground?
"Stealthy," Benny snorted. "Unless Cas here can burn them all away, being followed by a magical angel forest fire is not gonna end well for us."
None of this was going to end well for them. Dean still didn't know if he believed Benny about a way out of this place, but it was easier to go along with him than to imagine an eternity living this way. Running. Hiding. Patching themselves up and moving on. And Dean knew what Purgatory did to Cas; he could see it in the way his eyes slid away, as though he was hearing something. He frowned as though his head hurt. Dean could see it in the way Cas looked tired and worn like he was just this close to snapping and giving up. Once, Cas had saved him, pulled him out of Hell.
Dean meant to return the favour.
"I can't defeat all of Purgatory," Cas admitted. "Light something you can carry."
Benny picked up a twig and brandished it at the fire.
"Don't be a dick."
Getting his feet under him was not as easy as Dean would've liked but he shrugged off Benny's proffered hand. He needed to prove to Cas he was okay, because if Dean wasn't exactly certain how much longer he could take the smoky haze that surrounded them he hadn't forgotten the spell Cas had told him about. He knew Cas. Any sign of weakness now and he'd never tell Dean what had to done.
Finding the largest branch he thought he could easily carry Dean offered it up to the edge of the flames. Now he watched the flames creep across the wood, settling into its fabric, Dean had to admit it was kind of amazing. This was Cas, even in a different form- even when he'd been glass and water- there had always been something familiar about him. It wasn't shape so much as his voice and his presence, like Dean had always felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when Cas was around. Even in this heat Dean felt it.
Dean could tell the moment Cas went from being the fire surrounding them to the torch alone; the flames weakened, began encroaching on the area around them. Jacket pulled over his face, Benny hissing behind him, it was easy enough to step through the fire.
It was almost entrancing, watching Cas's flames.
Then, so quietly Dean almost couldn't hear, Cas spoke, "I will burn through this."
"I'll find more," Dean assured him. "What's with the whispering?"
"This is all I am now." Dean could've sworn the fire shrugged. "Before, I was the smoke and the heat too."
In some weird angel world that was probably a logical answer.
"Right."
They walked through the charred remains of what had once been thick forest and Dean wondered if it would stay like this forever now; if anything new ever grew in Purgatory. In places, smoke still bellowed from the charred carcasses of trees. It was disconcerting. The forest was familiar. The forest hid them, but here Dean felt exposed. Too visible. He knew Benny felt it too, keeping low, weapons drawn and ready. They didn't talk much, wanting only to get away from the burned-out, dead places and to get back into the familiar cover of trees and undergrowth. Not so long ago Dean had thought he would go mad if he didn't see something other than endless freaking forest. Now he'd do almost anything to get it back.
Cas burned slow and steady, but his voice grew more distant every time they talked. After maybe a couple hours Dean could feel the heat of his flames too close to his hand and he looked around for a new branch. He didn't like how Cas was becoming nothing more than the quiet crackle of flames.
They smelled burned flesh, caught a glimpse of something dead, man-shaped, skin red and black. They didn't bother to stop. Eventually, finally, they passed back into forest and it was a relief. Comforting to know they weren't out in the open. Hidden again, even if that wasn't even slightly the truth. Things here could smell and they could sense and thick forest was nothing to them, but it still somehow made Dean feel better. Maybe he'd just gotten too used to the world being only one way and if he ever made it back topside he'd have to go live in the woods like some crazy wild man because he couldn't take parking lots and towns and roadside diners anymore. Here, other than the distant smell of smoke nothing had changed. Another couple hours and another branch and Dean didn't miss how slowly Cas moved from one to the next this time.
Benny moved ahead of them, scouting, looking for tracks and clues to satisfy him they were alone. Or as alone as anyone could be in Purgatory.
"You okay?" he asked Cas, watching Benny weave his way through trees, navigating the twisted, tangled forest floor with practiced ease.
"I'm fine," Cas said. Receiving that answer was generally the time Dean started to suspect serious injury.
"Yeah, no." Dean brought the flame closer to his face. "You're not. I can barely hear you, Cas. If it starts raining now you are so fucked." He was starting to regret convincing Cas to shrink himself. He'd been stronger as a blaze. He'd been alive and furious and deadly.
"Thank you," Cas said dryly, "for the encouragement."
"No problem." Somewhere in the distance Dean could've sworn he heard thunder and he looked up.
"There is nothing there," Cas assured him, the same way he'd assured Dean ten times before. Somewhere along the line he'd gotten jumpy, but looking at Cas's dwindling flame who could blame him?
They'd walked far enough. Gotten distance between themselves and the lightning and its wreckage, but who knew how long this peace would last. Dean asked, "So this spell-"
"No."
"We agreed-"
"I agreed to nothing."
Which was so not the point.
"We can't keep going like this."
A pause, considering. "If I return to my vessel, the lightning will still follow," Cas pointed out.
"Yeah, but you'll be one hell of a lot better at running."
There was always something after their skin, or souls, or whatever, but Dean would rather have Cas fighting at his side than pretty much anyone or anything bar his brother. And he'd never say it but maybe- just a little- he missed talking to Cas. Listening to him and Benny bitch at each other. Missed leaning against him in the cold, pitch-black nights and knowing this was someone he trusted not to leave him to rot.
"I wouldn't," Cas told him.
Shit.
"You heard that, huh?"
"You are too close like this." Dean thought he could almost detect discomfort in Cas's tone, but then he added, "I also appreciate your- presence."
"Yeah, well, to keep appreciating my presence you're gonna need to get back into a body, so tell me."
Where his hand held the branch Dean could feel the heat of Cas's flames, but he could also feel Cas's indecision, could almost catch the edge of thoughts shaped like all those Enochian sigils Cas had painted in his own blood. Maybe that was what Cas meant by too close.
"It will leave you defenceless, in this place," Cas tried to argue.
"Benny'll take care of it."
Cas ignored the comment. "I will not be strong enough to protect you."
"Yeah? And you are now? You gonna give some big ugly a nasty burn?"
Sometimes, it was just too easy to get Cas mad.
"It's too complex," Cas argued.
"Nope. I've had to listen to Sam and his anal magic research lectures for too long for that one to work. Try again."
The light was starting to fade. At least Cas could help him see when night fell. Aside from likely attracting half of Purgatory, but that wasn't anything new and Dean had stopped worrying about it long ago.
And Cas's flame was weakening with every new branch, every change wearing on him. Dean could see it, and he could feel it in the heat against his fingers. Cas turning over options, a hundred a second, more than Dean could ever hope to follow and each of them more bleak than the last. One thing Dean could sense over everything else; Cas was afraid. He was afraid for Dean. He would do anything to prevent that, even lying to Dean. And didn't Dean know it.
"Don't you fucking dare try that, Cas."
They weren't going down that road again.
Cas's thoughts stopped cold, surprised. "You can-"
"Yeah, I caught that one. Just tell me. We'll get this done." He didn’t say, Please, but he thought Cas could hear it anyway.
Back when Cas had been water his touch had been a warm, weirdly gentle thing. Now he was fire- even an itsy-bitsy one- Cas was heat, even the slightest touch prickling discomfort and Dean found himself wanting a Cas he could lay a hand on, to be sure he was there. Someone solid he knew how to help. Dean wasn't dumb enough to imagine that Cas was ever going to act like a normal human, but he liked the Cas he knew. The Cas he maybe sometimes thought about too much. And really not thinking about that while they were having some freaky mind-meld moment.
"I will have to show you," Cas warned, and Dean understood what that meant. Putting his hand into the fire.
"It will hurt," Cas warned, and Dean was fine with that.
Cas's tone was disapproving. "You shouldn't be."
"You'd do the same for me."
Dean didn't need Cas's silence to know it was the truth. He took that as agreement, and sped up to catch up to Benny.
"You're a fool," was Benny's immediate reaction to Dean's explanation. On the forest floor Dean tried to coax Cas into larger flames, carefully adding the driest leaves he could find, the driest branches. He didn't catch.
"We've established that," Dean agreed. "But I'm going ahead with this, with or without you."
"You're gonna bleed yourself dry and all of purgatory is gonna come for you." He scowled at the fire. "And him."
"And you're gonna hold them off 'til we're on our feet. Or you're going to leave us both here to be torn to pieces. Your choice."
It was a variation on the same old argument; Cas was too dangerous to have around, Dean wasn't going anywhere without Cas, Dean was Benny's ticket out of Purgatory. They went 'round and 'round in the same circle and they would for all freaking eternity because Dean wasn't changing his mind any time soon. Or ever.
Dean recognised the moment Benny conceded defeat on this one too because he grit his teeth, his hands tightening on his weapon. "It's nearly dark. We should wait until morning."
"We're doing this now."
Waiting would give Cas time to reconsider. It would give the lightning time to find them again. It would give Cas time to die.
"I have never met anyone as suicidal as you, my friend," Benny shook his head, turning away. But he didn't go far and his stance indicated that he was ready for a fight, if it came to that.
"See, Benny likes you," Dean told Cas, holding his hands close enough to his fire to hurt.
Cas didn't believe it for a second. "You don't have to do this," he said.
"Yeah. I do." It didn't matter where they did this because there was nowhere to hide. It didn't matter if this killed Dean because he had to do something. That's how he worked. He wanted Cas to know that whatever had happened between them in the past this was who they were now and that was all he cared about.
It had been a long time since Dean had hoped for anything more than maybe his brother and his friends making it alive to the end of another day but with Cas he'd had that. He'd once thought that maybe they could be people who hung out together. Who enjoyed each other’s company.
"I would like that too," he heard Cas whisper, tinged with guilt and self-loathing and Dean knew all about that.
"Then we'll survive this, and we'll have a beer and you'll tell me all the dirty angel jokes you know."
"I don't know any-" Cas started to argue, confused, but Dean shoved his left hand into Cas's flames and in that instant he felt pain, skin burning, blistering and cracking. He could smell burned flesh and it made him feel sick knowing it was his own. Then, the pain was gone and there was only Cas, disconnecting nerves and redirecting thoughts.
"A little warning," he growled and Dean was glad to hear that here, at least, Cas's voice was strong again. He had no time to reply because in the next instant his head was filled with words and images, memories and experience and Cas crafting sigils from nothing. It felt like hours that Dean sat and watched Castiel learn, and saw him create. Dean couldn't help thinking how much Sam would've killed to see this. Castiel read knowledge he wasn't supposed to. He spoke to creatures he was meant to revile. And Dean had never realised the depths of what Castiel knew, and how much he feared it, like a man who knew too many secrets. He trusted Dean with this knowledge though, willingly giving it all. Another thing that Dean had never realised; the depth of Castiel's unconditional faith in Dean.
Then, as quickly as it had begun it was over and Dean was lying on his side beside the embers of a fire. His hand ached but he ignored the pain, knowing now what he had to do. It would hurt even more soon.
It was just Dean's luck that it was then that thunder rattled the sky, rolled towards them, faster than before. Lightning lit up the darkened sky, so bright that Dean had to shield his eyes.
Pushing himself up into a sitting position Dean saw Benny a few steps away, watching him.
"We can't fight that," he said, lifting his chin towards the sky.
"No."
Dean picked up his blade and cut open his wrist, letting the blood fall around the embers of Cas. He spoke the words Cas had shown him, wrote out the sigils in his own life as Cas had done before but with Grace. Dean hoped it would be enough.
The rain was cold on his back when it fell, smeared the blood that poured down his fingers to the soil, wiped away the pattern on the ground but not the magic.
It was dizzying to stand but Dean had to give more. When the blood slowed he cut again, deep. Didn't stop murmuring the spell even as he tripped and fell, picked himself back up again and thought all the time that this was for Cas and that he hoped to fuck it would work. There was the heat of fire. There was definitely rain. There was maybe the sharp sting of glass against his hands. And before all of that was the welcome memory of finding Cas again on that beach. He had held on then, just as he was holding on now.
Somewhere he thought he heard yelling, and Cas telling him to stop, and it wasn't enough so Dean cut into his arm again and felt warm, wet slide down his arm. He couldn't see. It was dark, or maybe he'd closed his eyes. He couldn't feel, but maybe that was the cold. Or the blood loss. His thoughts were unclear, except for the resolve to keep going. To keep walking. To keep his lips mouthing the words that were Cas's name and his being and wrapping him in flesh. He had burned. He had bled. It had to be enough.
In his head Dean saw a lake, once a calm place with a chair and a line and Cas, once death with black oil and the stench of rotting. In those places Cas turned to Dean and told him to let him go, and in both of them Dean refused.
Cas didn't smile, because he was a dick angel who had never gone to humour-school, but he did nod his head. It was enough for Dean. Even if this shitty plan failed and they all died it was good enough.
As he fell to the ground, wet under him, sharp branches scratching at his cheek and couldn't get up again, Dean heard a voice; not memory, not the soft murmur of water, not the harsh snapping and hissing of fire, but Cas.
He said, "Dean," and then there was a touch, human and alive and taking his hand and holding on.
Dean opened his eyes, blinking away the rain, and there was the Cas he knew, lying beside him as messy and ragged as that day Dean had found him again. Cas didn't smile, because he was still a dick angel, but he didn't let go. They would have to get up and run. The lightning was close. They were both in danger of drowning in mud, but in that moment Dean didn't give a shit about any of it. He had this back and right then Dean didn't need anything else.
He gripped Cas’s hand tightly in return.
End