You can't run.
I stop in my tracks.
Neither can your once angelic companion.
"Dean?"
My eyes focus on the form before me. Is it the bass-like voice? No, it can't be. It's human sized, and there aren't any tentacles in sight.
Something warm pulls on my hand, pulling my eyesight into focus on the person before me.
Cas.
"Dean?" Worry laces his voice as he takes another step towards me. "Dean?"
"Cas," I breathe out. I squeeze his hand and pull him towards me. I hug him closely, tucking his head into my shoulder.
"Dean? What are you doing? Why is your body squeezing mine?"
Instead of answering him like, I should, I just hold him closer to me. His arms hesitantly loop around my middle; he's probably sensing how much I need his touch right now.
"Promise me something," he whispers to me. I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling the familiar material of his beloved trench coat.
"Anything," I reply, my voice practically getting lost in the wind.
"Promise me that we'll get out."
I can't. We're destined to die here. Even if the tentaclly pedophile doesn't kill us, we'll surely die from the cold. Or worse.
Promises don't mean anything anymore. Not here. But I promise him anyway, even though it feels like I'm lying though my chattering teeth.