Dean wakes with a start to a horrible keening wail, and his body automatically jumps to its feet before his brain has time to process what's happening. Castiel seems to have pinned something against the rough wall of the cave, and it struggles violently against the angel's strength. Dean is fleetingly but immensely grateful for the fact that Castiel's powers have remained relatively intact in Purgatory before he jumps into the melee, pulling his knife as he does. Only now can he see the creature responsible for the awful noise...it's a Rugaru. After a brief pause at just how surreal that is, Dean notices that Castiel has already given the creature a non-fatal wound and looks down to see that his weapon of choice is jagged piece of wood that he's sharpened into a point. Perhaps his powers are a little more diminished than Dean had thought. Castiel glances at Dean quickly and aims another blow at the creature and Dean is just about to plunge his knife through it's heart when he comes to a sudden realization that this isn't just any Rugaru. He's killed this monster before. His mind flashes back to the case that he and Sam had worked years before when Sam had been convinced that the victim, Jack Montgomery, wouldn't give in to his urges and could remain human and good. It had been hopeful and naive of him, but it was based on the same touching benefit of the doubt that his brother used to give everyone. It was part of who Sam was and something within Dean mourns the loss of that innocence, that belief that there was good within everyone.
The memory only causes Dean to hesitate for a millisecond but it's still too long, and before he knows it the monster has hurled him across the cavern with impressive strength considering it's injury.
"Dean!" he hears Castiel yell just before he hits the wall of the cave and his vision explodes into a galaxy of tiny stars.
Then he can see and hear the fight go on without him, unable to pull himself to his feet, barely able to hold onto consciousness. But thankfully it doesn't last long, and his insides flood with relief when Castiel raises a hand to the Rugaru's head and uses his energy to set it ablaze. The creature roars and flails grotesquely before finally disintegrating into nothingness. The angel stands perfectly still for a fraction of a moment, recovering from the exertion, before running to Dean and kneeling in front of him, hands urgently cupping Dean's face.
"Dean! Are you okay?" he asks in a hoarse voice, his hands now carefully searching Dean's head for injury.
He lifts Dean's chin insistently and Dean groggily glances up and meets Castiel's eyes, which are so filled with concern that Dean briefly wonders if he's miscalculated the severity of his injury. But then the hunter seems to come back to his senses, the fog surrounding his brain lifting, and he goes to climb to his feet. Castiel holds Dean's arm to steady him as he stands, still watching him closely.
"'m fine, Cas. Just a bump to the head."
Castiel's face relaxes slightly with relief, but he's clearly not entirely convinced.
"Good. We have to get out of here," he mutters, gently tugging on Dean's arm. "There will be more."
Castiel scans the cave one last time, picking up his abandoned trench coat and pulling it back on, and extinguishing the now more subdued fire with a click of his fingers. Then he turns to Dean.
"Ready?"
Dean just nods, still rather dazed, and Castiel reaches out to him. They disappear just after Dean catches a final glimpse of the mouth of the cave, which is steadily being infiltrated by more creeping shadows.
The next time Dean blinks the setting is different once again. They're still in the dark but as Dean's eyes begin to adjust he can tell that its less dense than it was when he went to sleep. He briefly wonders how long he slept for. It certainly doesn't feel like long. He realises that he didn't ask Castiel how long an average night was in Purgatory, or any number of questions he wants to know the answer to, but there always seems to be more pressing matters. Dean looks around him. They're not in a cave this time, but against a rocky cliff with a small clearing in front of it before giving way to yet another forest of blackened trees. He stands close to Castiel, both of them on edge and searching the darkness for sign of threat. When they're both satisfied that Castiel has transported them to a place of relative safety, Dean lets out a deep breath and turns to the angel.
"Where are we now?"
"We're a little further West. I'm having trouble pinpointing our precise location because I'm unfamiliar with the exact geography of Purgatory. But I do know that we're closer to our target, if it exists that is."
"So what's the plan? We search for it and hope that we don't get made into breakfast by one of the Munsters?"
Castiel considers him for a moment with the slight tilt of the head that means he doesn't understand the reference, then apparently decides to ignore it, as he often does.
"Unfortunately that is the plan," he confirms darkly. "But like I said, we shouldn't be far away. If we stay together we will be okay."
Dean knows that his words are just empty comfort but he finds himself appreciative of the reassurance nonetheless. Purgatory seriously gives him the creeps. It's not just the monsters and growls and shadows, nor the darkness and harsh terrain. There's an intangible yet deep sense of foreboding that settled over him the moment he arrived here and hasn't budged an inch ever since. Its a smothering, all-encompassing feeling of despair that is both unlike anything he's ever experienced before and at the same time painfully familiar. He supposes that it's part of what makes Purgatory...well...Purgatory. He doesn't want to say anything to Castiel, but the experience with the Rugaru has unnerved him more than he cares to admit. The repetitive action of facing a creature he and Sam have already killed is making him feel even more like this whole experience is one long, very vivid, nightmare. He rubs a hand over his face.
"Are you sure you're okay, Dean?"
Dean looks up at the sound of Castiel's voice, once again surprised by the gentle tone.
Was this really the same angel that had betrayed him so badly, hurt him more than he would ever admit to a living soul, including himself? He is so much like the old Castiel that Dean almost finds himself questioning whether any of it had really happened at all. Except that it had. He has the memories to prove it, the hardened heart, the damaged soul. He pulls himself away from the thoughts.
"What? Oh, uh, yeah...I'm fine," he murmurs. "It's just a little surreal to gank a monster Sammy and I have already killed."
Castiel gives him a questioning look, so Dean explains in a tone that is as casual as he can possibly muster. He knows that Castiel can see past his nonchalant attitude and knows how spooked Dean really is, but Dean doesn't give him a chance to protest.
"So should we get going or what?"
Castiel looks around again, evaluating the situation.
"It will be light soon. I think we should lay low until then. Daylight doesn't last for long here, so we will have to work quickly."
Dean shivers in the frigid air, but he knows that they're too exposed now to risk lighting a fire. At least the temperature is increasingly slightly as the light seeps between the trees. Dean sighs and slumps against the rocky wall of the cliff behind them. Castiel considers him for a moment then leans against the wall next to him, watching him. The air between them is so thick with unspoken words that Dean has the sudden urge to say something.
"You know, Cas, I don't think I thanked you properly for everything you've done since we got here. If I have to be here, I'm really glad it's with you," he blurts out before he can stop himself, only half looking at the angel.
Castiel smiles at him for a moment, then something seems to dawn on him and his expression darkens to a frown.
"I'm not worthy of your gratitude, Dean...not after everything I've done," he scowls, looking at the ground.
Dean looks properly at Castiel for a long moment, watching as a series of emotions flicker in his eyes. He's not sure that there's any point in discussing the long, complicated history between them. But he can't help but be slightly taken aback when those eyes shift their attention to his own. Castiel's expression has softened in a way that Dean has come to associate with uncomfortable, chick-flick conversations.
"I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry about the things I did. I wish I could take them back," Castiel continues quietly.
Dean sighs, resigned to the fact that Castiel isn't going to let him keep avoiding the topic.
"Hey, let's not worry about that just now, okay? We've got bigger issues to worry about right?" he replies in what he hopes is a casual tone, desperately wishing that he had a drink. He suddenly he remembers the silver flask full of whiskey that he always carries around with him and fishes it from his jacket pocket eagerly, wondering why it didn't occur to him earlier. He unscrews the lid and takes a swig of the amber liquid within, feeling Castiel's eyes upon him.
"What? Its cold, okay?" he says defensively, then offers the flask to Castiel who, to his surprise, accepts it and takes a drink before handing it back.
Castiel says nothing but looks so wretched at that moment that Dean can't help but speak again.
"Don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself, man? I mean, you've done plenty of good things too. And everyone makes mistakes..." He pauses, then laughs humourlessly. "Hey, I've sure as hell made enough of them."
Castiel looks at Dean with a strange expression, as if not quite believing his words. Finally, he gives a tiny nod of acceptance and turns his attention back to the trees that are gradually growing lighter around them. Neither of them speak for a long while, and they share sips from Dean's flask and apprehensively hope that nothing comes to hunt them, until daylight finally creeps amongst their midst. Though there is no identifiable source of the light, Dean is still grateful for it. The night has felt like one of the longest one's he's ever known, and in actuality it probably is. It dawns on him that he should be hungry and he asks Castiel about it, who explains that whilst his body is physically here and can feel certain sensations, eating and drinking is not necessary. Just like in Hell, Dean silently adds.
As the pair starts walking cautiously through the dense vegetation, Dean tries to remind himself that he is a hunter—always has been—and that he can handle anything he comes up against. But really he knows that he is in way over his head here, that Purgatory scares him, that it reminds him of Hell in a way that he'd never wanted to think about again...
"Dean."
Castiel's voice pulls Dean from his thoughts. He's is gesturing for Dean to follow him in a different direction, and Dean doesn't have much choice but to follow the angel's instinct without question. They walk on in silence, keeping within easy reach of one another, both feeling distinctly uneasy at the lack of objectives on their path. Dean can tell that Castiel is nervous but is doing his best not to show it. He's on edge, the remaining threads of his grace stretched out as far as they can, searching for any shred of the portal they're looking for. His concentration is so intense that Dean dares not interrupt him and he wishes, not for the first time, that he possessed just some of Castiel's amazing power. After what feels like an eternity of walking, they reach a clearing in the trees and the sight that greets them is almost beautiful. Framed by the tall, spiky trees native to Purgatory is a huge, dark lake. They approach the lake's surface and start to weave their way around the line of trees that borders it closely. The reflected surface is smooth, eerily perfect, sublimely beautiful. Dean stares at it, loosing himself, wondering how far down it goes and what wonders lies beneath within its inky depths. He's distantly aware of the fact that as he stares Castiel walks ahead, his attention apparently caught by something in the near distance. Dean finds that he neither knows nor cares what the source of the angel's interest is.
There is something magical and intriguing about this lake—some rare beauty that the darkness and harshness of Purgatory has left him craving more than he'd ever thought possible. He stands frozen, entranced, balanced precariously on the lake's edge. He tries to pull his attention away— to turn and follow Castiel as he knows he should—but something in the liquid reflection catches his eye and he's helpless once more. He drops to his knees on the lake's edge, fascinated by the glimpse of amber he's willing to swear on his brother's life he'd seen glimmering just beneath the dark surface. For a moment there is nothing but dense velvet blackness...then suddenly there's a flicker of green light that seems to bubble up from within the lake's depths, illuminating the mirrored surface. Dean gradually realises that he's looking at himself reflected...only it's not himself. The man in the lake seems lighter somehow, younger, more pure...untainted with the foulness of this place, of Hell, of Earth and all the things that Dean has done, of everything he's ever hated about himself. Somehow, Dean knows that if he were to only capture this man, make the two of them one, all that goodness would be absorbed. He would be forgiven. He would be free. Finally. He reaches down, the longing becoming too painful to bear. Merely looking is no longer enough...he wants to claim, wants to be...
Dean has a fleeting moment of pure bliss before darkness falls around him once more.
Would LOVE to hear your thoughts and whether I should continue or not. I'm always writing for myself but getting feedback is certainly a big motivator!