Hello! Sorry it took so long for the next chapter! Hope you are enjoying it or continue reading!

Chapter 2

Jack sat up abruptly with a long sharp gasp. He panted, eyes wide and confused as he took in his surroundings. He winced, putting his hands to his chest and looked down at his once white shirt.

"So much for being able to kill anything," he said to himself and chuckled, "I'm the man who can never die..."

Slowly and painfully he got himself to his feet, leaning against a tree for balance; he noticed that his coat was soaked through with what seemed like rain, which he found strange because the ground around him was coated in a layer of crisp dry leaves.

Jack frowned and stared into the dark woods that he found himself to be in, "Cas?" he called out quietly to the emptiness, "where have you abandoned me this time you bastard?" he muttered this to himself again.

Jack would have preferred to have Castiel with him or at least some form of company. Isolation brought back bad memories of the times he had been trapped at the end of the world, dying over and over…so alone. Thank God for The Doctor though; always coming to the rescue... but at least this was better than being stuck with some other monsters. It's surprising how long a weevil can last in the sewers and how confident they become once all life on Earth, bar Jack, is gone. With this thought he patted his sides and then frantically checked his pockets.

His guns were gone.

Rolling his eyes and dragging his hand down his face he yelled, "for God's sakes Cas!" But his cry just disappeared into the dark silence.

Then his eyes widened, he checked his wrist. Nothing. His precious time vortex manipulator was gone as well. He held his breath. Thoughts of being trapped and alone came flooding back.

"Castiel! If this is one of your stupid little jokes, I..." He stopped, not knowing what he would do and just stared blankly. "Oh God..." he whispered, running his hand through his hair again and forcing himself to breath rhythmically.

'What to do? What to do?' He thought.

Sighing and frustrated he began to walk, he couldn't just stand there. Well he could, but that would be no fun. This sort of thing had happened to him before and it always worked out. Captain Jack Harkness, always the optimist. He walked carefully, clutching his wound, surprised it wasn't healing quicker; he blamed the special, but apparently not so special Colt bullet for affecting things.

The wood was curious. It wasn't lovely or safe feeling, like a cute fairy-tale, but also not completely creepy or dangerous like, well, other fairy-tale woods. It was somewhere in-between somehow and almost familiar... Then he was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of water, he turned to face it and was blinded by a glowing light. He raised his hand to protect his eyes, but then slowly lowered it again; he light didn't hurt, it was warm and welcoming, unconsciously drawing him in.

Castiel had watched over Jack non-stop, shifting constantly around to different areas of the room, restless with concern. At this moment he was sat on the uncomfortable foldable plastic chair, not too far but not too close to the bed. His head was hanging low, balanced on his out stretched arms that rested on his knees, his hands clasped.

He wasn't sleeping. He would not sleep. He was thinking hard. The angel would not stop until he had found a way to save his friend. Obviously he had tried healing and resurrecting him himself, but there was some barrier, something holding him back.

Of course he blamed himself this, but he knew it was out of his control. He had tried calling Sam and Dean, but they weren't answering and were most likely too busy. He had even tried The Doctor, despite how much he disagreed with him, but between all the crackling he heard something about space and dimensions and "wibbly wobbly timey wimey" stuff before he was cut off. All Cas understood was that there was some sort of bad signal. He struggled with these sorts of things at the best of times and The Doctor's nonsense didn't help. He wasn't in the mood for it. He understood that The Doctor hadn't heard well, but he knew he would have done whatever he could to save him, surely; the fact that he hadn't just angered Cas more.

After rethinking these things, he stood up slowly, sighing as he went. His eyes were heavy and defeated from lack of sleep and endless tears, they stared blankly towards the wall above the bed where the body lay.

"One more time..." he murmured to himself, looking up at the grey ceiling with his glistening eyes as he walked across the room. Then he tilted his head down, glazing over what was before him: Jack's body lying cold and still on the bed, his face staring up pale and grey, that famous everlasting vitality gone. He reached over and clasped the rigid hands, putting them to his lips as he knelt down. Resting his head against the body, making sure to avoid the blood, he began to mutter with heart wrenching force in his gruff whisper.

"Father... Please! I know you can hear me. But why do you keep ignoring me?" He sniffled and cleared his throat, "I love him. Why won't you save him?!"

He waited silently for a moment then opened one eye and peered, hoping to find Jack sat up looking as bright and cheery as usual. Letting out of breath, he gracefully sank back and curled up, resting his head upon his knees.

Despite being something so big and so powerful, he'd never felt so small and alone.