Inspired by a tumblr post and supposed to be kind of like my Texts From John fic (but not even nearly the same thing...just kind of along the same, angsty, lines). Can't promise if I'll be updating soon or not.
"Cas? Cas!" Dean shouted, looking all around him. The angel was nowhere in sight. Growls filled the night, and Dean took a few steps back, his back up against a tree. He only had spent a minute in purgatory, and he had already decided that it sucked, big time.
Two pairs of gleaming red eyes peered out from behind a group of withering rose bushes, staring at Dean. He felt helpless, nothing to his advantage, not even a weapon. He would probably die tonight. The thought made him feel even more like a damsel in distress. He stiffened, eyes locked onto the four red orbs, making sure not to move a muscle. Perhaps if he stood still, he'd be invisible to them.
He had been right. Eventually, the eyes went away. He breathed a sigh of relief and assessed his predicament.
The only thing that would give him a chance was a weapon. If he could get a weapon, he could survive.
He also needed Castiel. Not because the angel could help him, but that having someone, a friend, by his side would considerably raise his spirits. He would also feel more safe, secure, and less alone.
"Dammit Cas!" Dean yelled into the night, kicking a nearby tree. He quickly regretted this as his foot began to prickle with pain. The last thing he needed was a hurt limb.
Dean proceeded to swear with a certain kind of anger that was beginning to become less and less rare with him. He wondered if Cas could hear him. If he could hear the shouting, the pain inside of Dean that was slipping its way out through curses. Dean then thought that if Cas could hear him, then so could everyone else in this hell-hole, and he promptly shut his mouth.
He needed shelter. He looked around, thinking about the best place for him to sleep for his first night in purgatory. "I wonder if they sell suites here," he muttered darkly to himself, meaning for it to be a joke, but instead having it coming out sounding like another swear.
He came across a cave, but it seemed to already be occupied. Dean high-tailed out of there as quietly as possible.
He decided, after quite a few hours of unproductive searching, that his best bet would be sleeping in a tree, kind of like that girl in the...what was it? Hunger Games? Sam had the read the book and wouldn't shut up about it until Dean had agreed to read it too. He realized now that the book just might keep him alive here in Purgatory.
He shimmied himself up one of the ten-story-high trees, his shirt made into some sort of rope. He made it to a branch at least twenty feet above ground and tied himself to the trunk with his shirt-rope. He dared himself to look down. "Shit," he breathed, closing his eyes and trying to think of something besides...everything happening. Sam. Lisa. Ben.
Cas.
"Cas," he prayed, actually placing both of his palms together. "Where the hell are you?"
.
.
.
.
"I'm here Dean," Cas silently answered. "I'm with you."
