A closed collaboration between mcavengers and me. We love the show "Supernatural" on an obssessive level more than anything, and we're so frustrated by the Season 7 ending, that we had to fan-fic about it.
Dean and Cas are trapped in purgatory, and Sam is left alone in the real world. They feel all alone, but that is the last thing they are...
Castiel felt heavy, like the sky was pressing down on his shoulders. His breath caught thickly in his throat, and his limbs felt like they had lost all spark. What is wrong with me? Why am I like this? As he soared through the air, his wings began to weigh him down like they were made of lead, his vision blurred like falling in and out of consciousness.
He hit the ground. Hard.
He'd tried to land on his feet, but his knees had given way before he could, and he caught himself with his hands, his palms shredding on the rocky soil. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing, but it was like a fist was in his throat, gagging him and dizzying his head.
'Jimmy?' he blurted, was it possible? Something in this place was harming his vessel? No, I would feel it. So then...what?
He opened his eyes when he had calmed, he saw the earth beneath him, wild with weeds and old roots, causing any man to stumble. Castiel felt uneasy, this place was rotten, he could feel it. It was nothing like his home, it was a foul, flawed copy, darkness ruling over light, demons over angels. He knew they were watching him, he could sense their presence, but it was like a swarm, so many of them that he couldn't tell one from the other. Monster, demon, Leviathan, they all had the same, cloying stench, inescapable and oppressive like smoke. They were just incomprehensible shadows running past him, their eyes bright like blazing fire.
How had they found themselves here? He remembered so little of recent events, he'd seen Roman injured, felt the life flow from him, followed by a light unlike anything he'd ever seen on Earth. Crowley? Did he do this? The angels? Did Dean know as little as he did?
Suddenly, his insides clenched with an unease that he couldn't understand, he felt sick, realising what he'd done. He'd run off, too busy trying to find a way out, a sign of familiarity. He'd been so stupid, he'd left Dean alone in Purgatory. Castiel wanted to tell himself that everything was fine, Dean had fought off hundreds of demons, and creatures far worse.
But in his world, his inner voice retorted. Perhaps only fractionally, but demons were weaker in Earth, and for all Castiel knew, it was that fraction that had saved the Winchesters from countless acts of martyrdom. Now, the demons were in their own home, they would be powerful, and confident. How many demons had been sent here who wanted the Winchesters ripped apart a hundred times over?
I have to help him.
Castiel was not strong enough to ignore his inner self, where Dean was concerned, there were things that he did that should have regretted, but he never had. So he pulled himself to his knees, untangling his feet from the back of his trench coat, and charging off into the undergrowth.
* * *
Dean Winchester turned his head frantically, his eyes following the shadows through the sentinels of trees. He could hear them hissing in his ears like whispers, they were talking to each other, spreading the word. Pretty boy's back, and his pet human...Dean Winchester...last one there gets clean-up...you know how the boss hates mess.
Dean's hand moved instinctively to his hip, to his holster, but it had no occupant. No weapons, not even a packet of salt. Sammy had all the weapons, Sammy...where the hell is he? He hadn't seen him, it had just been him and Cas. Cas! Where is that nutjob? He'd run off, but where was there to go? Everything looked the same, trees that stretched over him into the sky, the ground a semation of roots, rocks and plants. He stood awkardly, spreading his stance and flexing his fingers. If he was quick enough, he could beat one down. One, though. He was defenceless, and never in his life had Dean been able to gank a demon with just fists and steel-caps.
"Dean." He looked up, his eyes immediately fell to the trench coat hanging over defined shoulders, the sleeves tickling at the wrists, and a mess of curling dark hair.
"Shit! Cas, where have you been?"
"Nowhere." As usual, Cas was not up for conversation, and in their situation, Dean couldn't blame him. "Dean," he said again, his voice deep, tracing his name
with seriousness and care. "They're coming, I can feel them."
"Who's coming?" Dean asked, imploring angel boy for an answer. "Damn it, Cas. Crowley, Meg, Dick? Tell me." Dick...that's right, he'd imploded like a big bag of goo, that was the last thing he remembered before they'd landed here. Here. Dean knew, he had never been here before, but like a chilling in his bones, the land whispered its name, Purgatory.
"There." Cas flicked his chin upwards, directing their gaze forward to the overgrowth. Bushes rustled, fallen branches snapped, and a figure began to emerge. Dean stood level with Cas, tensing his body and preparing for whatever came their
way. Suddenly, they sensed a presence behind them, and realised that it had been a decoy. They spun around to face their opponent, and froze.
"You," said Cas breathlessly,