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“Cas, please. I don’t – I can’t… I don’t have anything left to say. I’ve run out of prayers, Cas. I don’t know, I think I probably just needed to say your name again. Kind of helps me pretend that you’re still here.” He runs a hand down his face, hard and angry. “I don’t even know if you’re still breathing, you son of a bitch.”
Dean stands up and walks further away from Benny and the small one-night-only camp they have set up. He sits down in the middle of a tight cluster of trees, propping himself up against the biggest one he can find, and tilts his head upwards to watch the night through the canopy of leaves.
“Is this the same sky we see on Earth, Cas? I doubt it, right? Different astral planes and all that.” He waves a hand dismissively. Then he frowns and blinks. “Dude, do you think you and me are the only people that have been to all four levels? ‘Cause that’s pretty fucking cool. We should do other planets next.”
Dean is quiet for a moment or two before his mouth quirks into a smile.
“I told Benny that joke about the goat’s mouth.” He shakes his head, chuckling a little, “he didn’t get it though. I guess you tell it better.”
Dean sighs and picks at his bootlace. The edges of his mouth turn downwards, forming a grimace. “I miss you, man... I need you… except no, that's not - that's not it. Look, I can take care of myself – we both know that – but God damn it, you dick, I want you here. It’s that kind of need, Cas. I need you here because I want you here. I can't -"
Quiet falls as he collects himself somewhat.
"At least drop me a sign to say you're okay, you bastard, stop me worrying."
He waits, he waits for a full minute.
"No? Nothing? A gust of wind, Cas, anything. Please.”
The air is still. Even more so than before.
He scrubs at the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes bitterly, pissed that he’s about to cry over a stupid angel. A stupid angel who left him slap-bang in the middle of Monsterland, capital ‘M’ Monsterland for fuck’s sake. He presses a hand to his cheek trying to cool down his face, because apparently at some point it had gotten too warm, and then rubs the other on the back of his neck, the roughness of the calluses on his palm calming him down.
“Whatever, man, I can't do this anymore. I’m done. Don’t say I didn’t try.”
He gets to his feet and shoves his hands firmly into his pockets. There’s a pebble not so far away and he kicks it as hard as he can, before trudging back to the camp muttering phrases like ‘stupid son of a bitch’ and ‘dicks with wings, man, dicks with wings’ under his breath.
“Speaking to that angel of yours again?” A gruff southern voice asks from behind him, and Dean spins around, automatically gripping the knife at his belt. In the back of his head he knows whose voice it is but all he can concentrate on right now is the adrenaline pumping in his veins. After a quick second he can make out Benny’s shape as his eyes adjust to the darker patch of forest and he lets go of his weapon.
“Fuck, Benny, I thought you were sleeping.” He breathes, knuckles massaging his chest while his lungs work to catch up to his rapidly beating heart.
“That’s a resounding yes then.” Benny snorts as he walks past him and over to the tattered piles of cloth that barely pass for blankets.
Dean ignores that, frowning at him suspiciously. “Where were you?”
Benny smiles sadly. “We all got people we pray to, Dean,” he says before lying down and throwing a blanket over himself, turning away from the glowing embers of the fire.
Dean doesn’t say anything for a little while, understanding that he doesn’t need to, but then he realises that Benny has gone back to bed instead of offering to stand guard.
“I guess I’m still on watch then.” Dean mutters petulantly.
“Now, now, let’s not get our panties in a bunch. Wake me up in an hour and we’ll swap.”
Dean flicks a twig at him. “Just go to sleep, bitch.”
He rolls his eyes and then nearly chokes as his heart stutters. It dawns on him suddenly that he’s waiting for a ‘jerk’ and a bitchface in return but no, there’s nothing. He swallows thickly and moves to take up his post.
Dean settles on a rotting log and stares out into the blackness. There are shapes moving restlessly out there, whether it’s his own fatigue or actual monsters he can see, Dean doesn’t know. He watches them squirm and shimmer until he’s sure they’re not coming any closer, until he’s sure that it’s his tired mind misinterpreting the shadows and not some bloodthirsty rugaru coming to tear him limb from limb.
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. He sits and just breathes for a while trying not to do what he knows he’s going to do anyway. He stops fighting it and sighs again.
Canting his head to the sky, Dean inhales deeply and with the exhale sends up a silent prayer. Night, Cas. Stay safe or I swear I will beat your ass ten ways to Sunday, don't think I won't.
A long moment passes before he adds, I'll call again tomorrow.