"We're in Purgatory?" Dean asked incredulously. The angel's eyes bounced from the surrounding trees to Dean's face repetitively. "How do we get out?"
"I'm afraid we're much more likely to be ripped to shreds," Cas let his dark blue eyes seer into Dean's green ones. There was no cushioning this blow. They were surrounded by monsters and Dean could feel the fear seeping into his skin, making his blood run cold.
A growling behind Dean forced him to turn and meet a pair of beady red eyes. "Cas, I think we'd better go-" He had turned to face Cas but Cas was gone. Darkness pressed in on Dean and fear ripped into his throat, "Cas!"
There was no answer. Dean stood still, holding his knife and turning slowly, feeling like prey rather than predator. The attack was a blur of motion and blood. Dean gave into instinct and felt his blade ripping through the monsters that surrounded him. He looked around himself at the blood and carcases. He looked down at himself at the blood and dirt that was already caked onto him. He wiped his blade against his thigh and looked through the dark.
"Cas, please."
Dean listened, his ears perking at the sound of trouble lurking nearby. He crouched and tightened his grip on his blade, ready for the imminent fight. His attacker pounced and Dean stabbed, a rewarding yelp of pain coming from the beast. Dean put space between him and the now injured predator, straining to see in the dark. There was no sound for a moment and the darkness pressed in, seeming to thicken the longer he waited for a telling sound. He heard them approaching and he stabbed again, this time holding this movement before ripping his blade upward, gutting the thing. The cries of pain were loud but fading. His hand was slick with the blood but he kept his hand there as the beast died. Dean waited for the whimpers to fade to nothing before he kept moving, keeping his steps light and unheard.
Night was the most dangerous for Dean. There were plenty of creatures here with night vision who were nocturnal. While he couldn't see in the pitch black of Purgatory, he was trained to hear every noise around him. Being a human made him a target but being a hunter kept him alive. He wished he had his lucky charm with him- his blue eyed lucky charm of an angel.
Day hunting wasn't any better. While he could see, he didn't like what he could see. Trees were everywhere. Crunchy leaves waiting to announce your position were scattered all over the ground. There was no edible vegetation or colorful flowers. There was just a dull colored world surrounding him. The beasts he was oh so used to fighting on Earth were there, too. Sometimes only a single being would come after him, sometimes a group or a horde. He handled it, slicing through the endless opponents and he tried to keep from flashing back to Hell.
It was hard not to remember Hell in a place like this as he tore others apart. He remembered being let loose on the damned souls after 30 years of torture. He remembered the feeling of his anger and fear driving him to skin, tear, burn, sear, ruin these souls before putting them back together again to start over and over again. The difference here was that the hunt was able to fight back. He wasn't just torturing- he was killing as many monsters as he could. The difference was that in Hell, he had nothing to fight for.
Here, now, he had an angel to find.