Time slowed to a stop. Air turned to soup and sound stopped. The only thing left was sight. And a sight it was. Parched scorched earth stretched out for miles. Trees like skeleton hands clawed deep gashes into a blood red sky. Deep depressions scattered the open plane; the result of a land mines no doubt. However despite all this, there was a chill to the air. A bone trembling wind that scattered dead leaves and broken branches bleached to a pale white. His stomach clenched tightly when a closer inspection revealed that he was staring at bones. John wanted to hurl. He had seen war torn cities, he had experiences the devastation of post war zones, but he had seen nothing like this. Thoughts whirled like snow caught in a blizzard in his head.

"What the hell?" It had been barely a whisper but Dean had heard him. His response was an awed look, quite similar to the one John wore. He snapped quickly out of his reverie. "Rose. Dean, we need to-"

"I know." The colour had drained completely from his face. They had been dumped in a waste land with no help, no idea where they were and a partially dead body. Hope rose when John thrust a finger out to the side, pointing to a spot along the horizon. It was so small Dean marvelled at how John had managed to distinguish it from just another tree. But sure enough, the longer he looked, the more he could make out the faint outlines of a city. High-rises like jagged teeth protruded from the ground. The small spark of hope that was ignited inside of the hunter dwindle down to no more than a faint glow when he saw Rose's condition in comparison to the distance they needed to travel. Additionally, what if this city was as desolate as out here and they didn't have anyone or anything that could help Rose? Those thoughts were quickly shoved to the corner of his brain specifically labelled shit-to-deal-with-later. He quickly hooked one arm under Rose's knees and his other under her shoulders and scooped her up. Grunting with effort, John joined him on his feet.

"Get moving then?"

Dean gave a small nod. "Yeah. You're sure there's nothing you can do for her?"

The grim shake of his head was enough. "Not without the proper supplies. Clean water, clean cloth and dressings, those sorts of things."

Deans only response was a small grunt of disappointment before he started off toward the small speck in the distance.

….

It was past midnight by the time they'd called it a day. Dean's watch was still fully functioning despite their current location. Wherever the hell that was. They had taken turns carrying Rose throughout their trek and by the time they collapsed on the hard cold ground, they legs could carry them no further and their arms could lift no more. Rose's pulse was frightening low by the end of the day, John had grimly informed him, so they'd done the best they could to keep dirt away from the wound in order for infection to stay at bay.

"She's doing incredibly well. Stubborn thing she is, won't let it take her."

"Hmm?"

"Usually, an injury like this could cause the recipient to bleed to death in a few hours. Whatever the doctor gave her before we split, it might just save her life." For, that Dean was relieved. He'd thought they were going to lose Rose before they managed to get anywhere near the city. As it had turned out, they were closer than expected. They could see the definite outlines of the city from their rest point which meant a few solid hours of travelling tomorrow and they'd be there.

John only spared him a small glance when he got up to seek some privacy. He didn't really want Dr. Watson to see him praying.

"Cas? You got your ears on?" he took a deep sigh before ploughing on ahead. "I don't know where the hell I am, Rose is dying, John is trying to keep it cool but I can just see him breaking apart slowly. I'm scared man. I Just…if there's any way that you could…I don't know…just if you can hear me? We could really use some help. Cas?"

….

The prayer crashed into him without warning. It took him several moments to recover from it until he realised who it was from. Dean. Dean had prayed to him and somehow, it had gotten through. He unfurled his wings, his heart pounding in his chest. If the prayer had gotten through then maybe he'd be able to. He concentrated every ounce of strength he had and pushed. He followed the path the prayer had taken until he hit an abrupt road block. It was like a barrier had been set up between his world and wherever Dean was. Cas tried so goddamn hard to get through. Every emotion Dean felt Cas felt, pushing him harder and harder to get to him.

His efforts were, of course, futile. Tucking his wings back into himself, he sighed wearily. The Doctor had assured them that he could fix it ordering Sherlock to put his massive intellect to good use and Cas…well Cas was told to go console a pretty distraught Sam. Apparently whatever had happened to them, it was nothing an angel could help with. He felt useless. Utterly useless. So he'd done the only thing he thought to. He had exited the…TARDIS (Cas hated that strange blue box because there was some kind of field that disabled him from zapping to anywhere within a 10metre radius of it) and had headed for the one place he could think. The impala. Earlier on he had tried desperately to soak up the remaining…feeing and essence of Dean that was left behind from so many uses of the beloved car so he could somehow lock on to his whereabouts. He was left disappointed, heartbroken and anxious. Would he ever be able to get back? Castiel almost laughed, back from where?

The prayer had given him some hope, and even though he might not be able to reach the three via Angelic methods, maybe the doctor could use it as some help. He flew himself as close as he could get to then marched the rest of the way in.

"Cas! You're back! We've made an excellent discovery! No wait! Let me say my news first. Well, not all of its good news, but it's a start. We-"

"The doctor and I have discovered that if we make an exact replica of the vortex manipulator used to transport John and the others to a co-existing parallel world outside the dimensions of our own, we might be able to reverse the effects of the original vortex manipulator." The doctor was giving Sherlock a look that could rival Sam's 'bitch face' as Dean liked to call it. It almost made Castiel smile.

"What's the bad news then?" He aimed his question at the doctor which seemed to brighten his spirits for a small while.

"We have no idea where they are in this parallel world. For all we know they could have been dumped at the bottom of a 50 km deep ocean and died. There really is no way of knowing."

Castiel's mouth twitched slightly as the doctor delivered the news. Well, at least now he could be of use.

"I can get the location." The thousand year old time lord and the world renowned consulting detective looked at him with surprise mixed with disbelief.

"How?" Sherlock's sceptical voice sounded up from his still position next to the TARDIS's large dashboard. Castiel's cool blue eyes travelled to the tall man. He didn't like him much. He was cold and egotistical but he knew that he would do anything for his friend John. Castiel didn't really know if 'friend' was the right word to use. It didn't sound…strong enough to him.

"You want John back. You'll trust me." For some reason, Castiel wasn't quit comfortable with sharing his prayers with someone else. They felt like private, almost intimate, conversations between him and his hunter. Just then, all the air rushed from his lungs in a painful gust.

"Oh and Cas? Please don't do anything stupid like…I don't know. Just nothing stupid ok?"

The angel's eyes widened and his heart sped up as emotions spread through his veins like ice cold water. Dean was in pain, both emotional and physical pain. Castiel gasped and staggered back a little. That prayer had been full of an emotion he hadn't felt in the last prayer. No, it wasn't that. This time, instead of emotions effecting Dean, like in the first prayer, this prayer had contained emotions directed at him.

"-happened? Are you ok?" A bright blue light flashed in his eyes followed by the familiar whirring noise of the doctors sonic. Castiel forced himself upright, the effects of the prayer still causing his heart to beat erratically.

"I'm fine."

"You just…glowed." His eyes were huge and wide, like a puppy when they have their sights set on a tennis ball. Castiel didn't pay much attention to the doctors poking and prodding, he turned his eyes back to Sherlock.

"They're approximately 30km from a small city where they hope to be able to get supplies to heal Rose's wound. Now, tell me what I need to do."

….

The dull blue lights of the TARDIS was the only company he had now. His blood ran cold at the thought of losing Rose before he had a chance to get her back. He'd treat her after this. He'd take her back to her mum and Micky and they'd spend Christmas together chatting non-stop about all the places and things they'd seen. Micky would laugh obediently and Jackie would tear up at the sight of her grown up daughter living the life she always dreamed. Only Rose never dreamed of this. She never dreamed of being cut open and thrown in a strange world with little to no hope of getting out alive. And he couldn't help but feel guilty. Because it was his fault.

He turned the shell of the deployed vortex manipulator over in his hands and stared numbly at the elegant black swirls on the hollow shell. It had only taken him minutes to pick out the small circles of Gallifreyan and seconds to translate them. And when he did, he wished he hadn't.

Can you hear the drums Doctor?