SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8. Can't get Purgatory out of my head for some reason so here's yet another story about it. There will be four short chapters posted within the next couple weeks. I don't own anything.

Dean's POV (as per usual- seriously I need some variety. Whatever.)

Pick Yourself Up

The shaking started on the second day, but it wasn't until the third that I realized what it meant. My first thought was that maybe Purgatory was screwing with my nervous system. Maybe a human just couldn't survive in this pit of blood and dirt, and maybe there was no way to stop death this time. And honestly, by the fifth hour of nonstop tremors, death was exactly what I was praying for.

I switched to praying directly to Cas when my knees finally gave out.

Every part of me was shaking, my muscles spasming as I tried to crawl my way towards the cluster of trees just a few feet in front of me. It took all my strength, and by the time I finally made it, it felt as if both lungs had collapsed. Like my entire body had decided to give up, long before I had.

I propped myself against the nearest tree, attempting to burrow into the ground as much as possible, throwing fallen branches over my trembling, useless legs to hide myself from anything that might be lurking nearby. Still, I was pretty sure I'd be dead within the hour. Just two sleepless days in Purgatory had been enough to learn that catching a break just wasn't in the cards, especially for Dean freaking Winchester. The only advantage I had was the unnamed weapon I had swiped off one of the first creatures I had killed. Honestly, I had no idea what the thing had been, but I was grateful for the curved blade its death had provided me with. I gripped it close to me now, unwilling to lose my only defense. I felt around also for the small silver knife that was permanently lodged into my boot, relieved to find that it was still there.

My lips felt as though they'd been peeled off, parched and burning, so my whispered prayers eventually turned silent. I screamed for Cas in my head instead, hoping he was still alive and still fighting. Hoping he could save me from whatever the hell this was.

And whatever the hell this was was getting worse.

My stomach had apparently decided to follow its lifelong dream of becoming a world-class gymnast, flipping and twisting until what little I had had left in my stomach found its way onto the ground, mixing in amongst the dried leaves and...blood? My blood. Dripping sluggishly from a thick slice on my hand I'd had no way of treating or thinking about once the shaking had started.

I groaned and licked my wasted lips, glancing towards the gray, swirling sky and wishing, not for the first time, that there were stars in Purgatory. I missed their familiar flicker, the memories that went along with them. Sighing, I slumped lower against the tree at my back, closing my eyes against the pain. I just wanted it to be over, one way or another. Either something would find me lying here and take advantage of my damaged state, or the acid in my throat would just eat its way through the rest of me. I preferred the first option.

Neither happened though.

I somehow managed to drift to sleep, telling myself it'd be easier that way. Telling myself I wouldn't have to wake up again. But I did. And when I awoke, the sky was still an empty gray. And I was still, miraculously, alive. My muscles ached and burned, making it nearly impossible to move. I heaved in a deep, painful breath that only served to start up a coughing fit, doubling me over. My stomach lurched violently and several dry heaves later, I found air again, pulling it desperately into my starving lungs. God why hadn't some vampire or rugaru or something found me and just put me out of my goddamn misery yet?

I really needed a drink. Just a nice cold beer or a shot of whiskey...or maybe ten. And once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. Just one drink. Something. Anything. A damn wine-cooler with five percent alcohol would do, just so long as I could feel that sweet, slow burn down my throat. My breath was coming out in rough, shallow gasps, my heart hammering away against my ribcage as I ran through my favorite brands in my head, the list growing and evolving with the pain that reached down through my bones and pulled at my sanity.

And then it hit me.

This wasn't Purgatory's doing. It was my own body that was tearing itself apart from the inside. Because it craved what I could no longer have, what Purgatory didn't provide me with.

Alcohol.

This was withdrawal.

Next chapter will be posted soon. Let me know what you thought if you have time and thank you for reading!