Song Remains the Same
Chapter 107 / Ad Purgatorium
"I thought that this must be what purgatory was like. Can't go forward. Can't go back. Awaiting some official judgment."
- Megan Miranda
She hit the ground feet first and a body-jolting shockwave rippled through her entire nervous system from impact.
Alex almost lost her balance completely from the unexpected plunge, but found her center of gravity again thanks to a low crouch as she breathed hard and squinted around to see where her feet had found purchase: Solid, hard-packed ground. She cast a quick glance around as she cautiously stood on aching legs and turned in a quick circle, rapidly realizing that she had been hurled into the bottom of a gigantic, deep crater. It was dark out; the middle of night. On all sides of her she could just make out a gently sloping angle of dirt that led upwards to thickly wooded scenery beyond. It was very cold in this place and the air felt thin and heavy all at once. There was no sound or wind or anything else that indicated life of any kind which made for an eerie, pulse-increasing atmosphere.
Alex began to move immediately because she was a fish in a barrel at the bottom of the crater. She chose a direction at random and checked to see that all of her weapons were still on her as she moved stealthily, practically run-crawling up the angled embankment—her machete was still held in hand, crossbow was still over her shoulder, and her hunting knife's familiar weight rested safely at the back of her belt. Her long ponytail hit her own face a couple times as she stumbled upwards in the dark. Some sixth sense inside was urging her to hurry because she felt on instinct that there was immediate danger nearby. Unfortunately, she was running straight into it and didn't know. She made it to the ground level and froze at the cusp of the crater—waiting for her on its haunches, seething growling low breaths through bared teeth was something out of a horror movie, she barely glimpsed it before it launched itself at her: it was something her size, a short-furred baboon-like monster with glowing red eyes and fanged teeth that dripped some kind of venom or drool.
She didn't even have a chance to flinch or gasp when she saw it—it leaped at her with a horrible gnarling noise and they tumbled back down into the crater where she was sure this creature planned to kill and eat her. Vicious snapping snarls were right in her face as she fought the monster back with nothing but her own strength and her own two hands—the world went around in circles as they rolled down the embankment locked in combat. She had lost grip of her machete and her crossbow had fallen off and currently her hands were both jammed against stiff fur as she struggled to hold back certain death—she used one of her hands to hold the thing back by the neck and the other to pin one of its arms, and when they rolled onto the ground at the bottom of the crater, she slammed her knee into its side once, twice, three times, a battle cry of rage screaming up her throat. I didn't come this far to get taken out right away!
The beast writhed rabidly, snorting and growling furiously as a clawed hand left a bloody slash against the side of her face. Alex howled her pain even as she snapped her face away from the scratching claws and took a chance, letting go with one hand and beating the side of the monkey's skull with her fist repeatedly as she kept her deathgrip on its neck and clenched as tight as she could, hoping to crush a windpipe. Sensing an opportunity, Alex roared and in one adrenaline-fueled motion flipped her attacker over with another brutal knee-bash, freeing herself for a split second and giving herself the opportunity to yank her hunting knife out of its holster. With a vicious thrust that almost didn't make it at all as the creature lunged upwards at her, the knife sank deeply into the attacker's throat and a horrible screaming noise gargled out of the bizarre monster's mouth. Its body lost tension underneath her as she straddled its collapsing form. Alex pushed harder on the hilt, teeth gritted and breath gone as she grunted hard and made sure that thing would fucking die when she was done with it. It whined pathetically and Alex yanked the knife out of flesh hard, standing up and over her opponent on shaky legs as red eyes faded out and the monster perished.
Christ. Alex touched wobbling fingers to her stinging cheek. What was that thing? She had no idea, but it looked feral and terrifying even laying there dead at her feet. That was close. Too close. Wincing, Alex realized she could already feel bruises forming from the fall back into the crater—her arms, her legs, a knee, a spot on her back all protested and pinged in pain. Half amazed that she was still alive at all and very aware that she needed to move now, Alex cast around in the dark for her things and made quick, frenzied work of gathering everything back as she kept throwing hyper-vigilant glances around.
She ignored her pain and focused on getting to the ground level again with all her weapons. As she reached the top of the crater and the barren woods beyond, she shifted her backpack onto both shoulders so it wouldn't come off and switched from machete to crossbow, holding it tight and high as she crept forward and looked in all directions for any other signs of danger, training the sights on all possible places an enemy could be hiding. She'd rather shoot any kind of threat than knife fight it up close and in the dark after that little tussle.
Her breathing calmed down after a few seconds and no other threats emerged. That freaky monkey from the pit of hell had apparently been a lone wanderer. So, this was Purgatory. It was surprisingly dull and monotonous looking. She heard nothing and saw nothing—there were just trees and trees and more trees, no signs of any more enemies or any thing else besides drab woods in all directions. The loudest sounds were her slowly-moving whisper-soft footsteps and the thunder of her own heart in her ears. She crept forward into the trees, mindful of every last thing: her grip on her weapon, the loudness of her footfalls, her immediate surroundings and the dangers that might lurk behind any number of nearby trees. Ears straining to hear any indication of someone nearby, Alex exercised extreme caution and swallowed down the fear she felt… but Zip's Purgatory pep talk replayed in her mind over and over; his cautionary tales and wisdom gained from personal experience making her adrenaline surge even higher.
"It's dangerous. There might be a monster behind every tree or there might not be anyone else for a hundred miles. You never know. You might go days without seeing anyone. That's when you have to be the most paranoid."
She continued forward into the woods and away from the crater, wishing she didn't have to do this alone—without someone watching her back, things could go sour quickly. And the nice little welcome she'd gotten from that baboon looking guy had really jarred her despite how she knew better than to expect an easy ride.
"You have to be fast. You have to be good. Every single soul in there is out for blood. Your blood."
Alex came upon a good sized tree with a low enough branch and quickly slung her crossbow over her shoulder and leapt up, catching the limb and pulling herself up with gritted teeth. If nothing else, working for Crowley had put her through the paces and she was stronger and sharper than ever. She'd had to be with all that demon hunting. But here and now in this place, she reminded herself that she wasn't so much the hunter as the hunted. Zip had been pretty damn clear about that part in his dire warnings.
"You won't need food and you won't need water. You'll need speed. You'll need eyes in the back of your head. You'll need luck. Purgatory isn't for humans. If your brother and the angel are dead in there… don't be surprised."
She drug herself up the tree and to its highest point where she could see further. The entire way up, Zip's words echoed darkly across her thoughts. If your brother and the angel are dead in there… don't be surprised. She refused to believe they were dead or to even acknowledge it as being possible even though she knew it was more than possible—it was probable. Yes, it had been nine or so months and yes this was a dangerous place and yes the odds weren't in the boys' favor… but there was a chance, there was a sliver of hope that they had fought and survived and were out there in these woods somewhere. That was the hope she was building her entire world on. She had to get to her big brother and to the other half of her heart and soul. She had to get them out. She would do it or she would die trying.
Even though it was night, the sky wasn't pitch black in this strange land. It was dark grey and as she scaled the tree and rose to the top of the treeline, she could see the endless jagged treetops forming a perverse lace edge all along the horizon. And then to one direction, she saw what she had been hoping to see. A huge tree that dwarfed all the others and rose above them in a crooked, strange mess of limbs that reached out into the sky. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The dead center of Purgatory. And she wasn't that far from it, maybe a half a day's walk. That was the way out of this place if you had the Wayfinder. Which she did… in her pocket, promising to get them out when the time was right.
But… her heart sank as she looked around in a three-hundred and sixty degree survey of Purgatory. The trees didn't end. Anywhere. They went on possibly forever, as far as the eye could see. How am I supposed to find them? If they're even still alive? I'm not the best tracker and they could be anywhere…
Every atom that was Alex remained desperate to lay eyes on two of the most important men in her life. But she was forced to remember that she wasn't just here for Dean and Cas… she had to find Crowley's desired object. Without it, Sam wouldn't recover because of the deal she'd made. Alex shut her eyes and breathed steadily, overwhelmed. She had come this far and done this much already to mess it up now. I can do this. Just don't jump the gun. One step at a time. It's all on me so I gotta be careful to do this right.
She opened her eyes back up and searched the darkness all around, all the endless miles of danger and potential death. It was humbling and terrifying all at once to realize what she was in that moment: one small human against all of Purgatory in search of two of the most precious things in the universe. Despite that knowledge and how petrified she truly was inside, Alex summoned courage and refused to let fear control her. She put two faces in her mind and concentrated on them and the love she felt for them.
If you're out there, I'll find you. If it takes me a thousand years, I'll find you.
She didn't notice when her hand errantly went up to touch her penny necklace—it was something she did mindlessly when she was anxious, a habit she'd barely noticed forming ever since she had begun wearing it nearly three years ago. And then her fingers found nothing but empty skin and she remembered, once again, that she had lost it months ago when Cas disappeared and that her fingers were ghosts, seeking something that was gone. She hoped her heart was not the same.
Meanwhile
Castiel realized that he was doing it again—absently touching the penny and ring he had begun to wear around his neck during the time here in Purgatory. Beneath his shirt they rested against his skin and close to his heart. It seemed a fitting place for those objects that represented the best thing about his existence. He took his hand away from the familiar little shape of them, but nothing could take away the dull, constant ache of loneliness and yearning he carried in her name.
Where are you right now? Are you all right without me? Are you better off? Do you miss me like I miss you? Do you think of me like I think of you?
He thought of her sadly and without ceasing. He saw her brother every day and Dean reminded him of her painfully. Same freckly complexion, same stubborn attitude. He worried continually over how Alex was, where she was. If she was safe. If he would see her again. And if he saw her again, how she would look at him now. He could remember his time of insanity and he had developed very embarrassed, rueful feelings about it all—he had been truly out of his mind and could remember how stressed she had been made by his bumbling, unpredictable condition. He likened their relationship during that time almost to adult caregiver and child. And he was sorry it had become like that. He was sorry he had become a surface-level version of himself that had been obsessed with flowers and bees and collecting her fallen hairs. It had made sense at the time, but at the time he'd also been psychotic, so…
He felt almost guilty that she had still cared for and loved him through his mindlessness. He was amazed that she had still somehow found it within herself to have patience with him even when he was doing nothing but rambling on and on about gardening and honeybees and all the useless facts he had gathered over the millennia. She had still loved him then, even if it had been a different sort of love… and that stuck in his mind as something warm, something special, something sacred. She hadn't walked away or taken away her friendship from him; she had been at his side faithfully even though his condition had obviously grieved her. However, she hadn't wanted him like she used to and that had hurt and confused him. He thought he grasped why now after mulling it over so much, though. Their connection hadn't been the same as before—he hadn't been the same—and after the pain of their six-month separation and his 'marriage' to Daphne, after they had reunited in a passionate, impulsive tangle and then Cas's guilt over everything had reared its ugly head head—his attempts to do the 'right thing' and remove himself from her life had wounded her deeply and left her feeling obvious betrayal. He realized now more than ever how confused and exhausted she must be over the emotional hardships he had given to her. He couldn't fault her either.
Purgatory had given him an abundance of time to think over everything in detail; the entire duration of their relationship, the good and the bad alike. The innocent beginning, how he'd loved her before he even knew the emotion. A first kiss haunted him, as well as the fact that no matter what either of them did, they remained tangled together in something inescapable. It wasn't that he wanted to escape from it, either. She was his life. He hoped and dreamed of nothing but seeing her again—yet he was afraid she would have given up on him now. After everything that had happened to them after the war in Heaven and his endless lists of mistakes, it was a mess he didn't know how to fix. He thought she would not want him again, ever. He couldn't truly blame her. He had disappointed her. Abandoned her. Betrayed her. Hurt her repeatedly. Promised forever then failed again and again and even tried to go back on his word, practically. It was shameful. He thought he should be all the more determined now to keep his distance and never risk hurting her physically or emotionally ever again. And yet, this time with Dean had somehow given him hope once more for a future together. It was ironic to say the least that the man who had stood against the relationship for so long had been the one who told Cas to 'just sack up and see it through, you self-pitying jackass. My sister deserves better than that.'
…Dean had a strange way of expressing care, to put it mildly.
There was also another thing that stood between Cas and Alex, a thing Castiel still dwelled on and pained himself over. The other man. The Leviathan who had seduced and used her. It still gave the angel so much pain to think of his Alex allowing someone else into her arms and into the most physically intimate embrace there was. He understood that she had needed and wanted comfort, he understood she had believed he was dead and that she had been grieving himself and Bobby as well, he understood she had been under the influence of substances and that the Leviathan had used those circumstances to his own ends.
But understanding didn't make it any less painful. To Castiel, sexual relations were so much more than physical interaction or something pleasureful to pass the time with. It was touching and knowing Alex at her deepest parts, it was giving her everything he had: trust, love, affection, devotion, tenderness. It was trusting each other and finding fulfillment in the love they shared, it was a transcendence of everything he felt for her put into the physical. It was a promise and a vow, it was a testament to his heart's convictions. It was making love and it was holy, sacred, theirs. Something that they had only known with each other. And now… that was different. That had changed.
It had brought Castiel to tears when he thought of it on occasion: his wife so alone and bereaved that she would let someone love her body the way he always had. And even though his personal pain was great, he knew hers was greater. Her regret was so deep, her shame so wide. He had seen it in her eyes and felt broken on her behalf when she had wept and admitted to him some of the sordid details. He wished he knew how to take it away, he wished he knew how to protect her from what he had in effect caused to begin with… he wished he could erase the pain and tell her he understood and had forgiven her to the best of his ability. He supposed before he could ever hope to do that, first he would have to get out of this place and then hope she was maybe willing to give their relationship another chance. And those two things probably would not happen.
Cas again touched his fingers to the weight there beneath the dirty hospital shirt he wore and the ache doubled in his chest, the one that had been born out of the pain of separation. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. A thought that drummed along with every beat of his heart. He truly didn't think he would leave this place ever again—he would instead be trapped here forever. The moment they had been hurled into Purgatory, he had known his fate was more than likely sealed. The only thing he could do was make sure Dean got back to his family. Anyway, Castiel was fairly certain that after he had died and left Alex so many times and doomed her to such confusion about where they stood, she might actually be relieved that he wasn't returning. He didn't know. He loved her. He always would. And there would forevermore be the wish lodged in the deepest part of him that things hadn't ended like this.
He would have given anything to see her face just once more. To hold her against himself and feel evidence of her strength and life beating through her chest and into his. To breathe her in and see her eyes one last time. To tell her he loved her and maybe hear she loved him, too. He felt like if he was given that, he could face his punishment of eternity here in Purgatory.
But he didn't think he would lay eyes on her ever again.
One Week Later
Dean was tired. No, Dean was exhausted. He was sick of this place: the never-ending supply of monsters that wanted to eat him for lunch, the endless wasteland of woods, the sleeplessness, the constant fighting for his life and for the lives of Cas and Benny. He was starting to really and truly lose hope. It had been almost ten months now that they'd been stuck here and he was fading out in every sense. He was ready to be done with this, he wanted to get out, and honestly only two things were really keeping him going anymore: one, Cas. Dean couldn't check out and die off and leave his wingman to fend for himself out here. No way in hell, not after Cas had his back like he had. Two, the thought of seeing his brother and sister and James again. Especially James. His throat caught when he thought about her. Guilt and grief alike wracked him. She'd been alone this entire time and he'd promised to be with her and he hadn't been. He wondered where she was right now. He wondered if she was holding a small, fragile human being in her arms, a new little life they had made together. Maybe he would never know. Not unless he got the hell outta here.
The weary hunter looked up and glanced around with slow, jaded eyes. It was daylight but that meant nothing. Here in Purgatory, color was faded and grim, stripped of any semblance of vibrance or life. Every last thing was drab and dingy, lifeless and gray. The sunlight was never strong or bright or cheering at all. It was like an eternally overcast day; the entirety of this hellhole was shrouded by inescapable depression. Dean hated it.
Cas and Benny were nearby just over the gently-sloping ridge Dean had just descended from. They were out of his sight and hearing for the moment. Their petty, childlike arguments had pissed him off and his ever-present grief had propelled him into seeking a moment alone so he could get himself together. He just needed a break; he needed some sort of hope to keep him going because he couldn't keep on like this much longer. He was trying but he just couldn't. A heavy breath escaped worn out lungs and Dean bowed his face into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose and then rubbing his palm across the upper half of his face in attempts to relieve some tension and stress. And then, there was a soft, ominous noise behind him and Dean's self-pitying thoughts immediately dropped out of his mind in favor of oh shit. He'd dropped his defenses and not paid attention for a few precious seconds, and he was probably as good as dead; still he whirled around to try and meet his attacker. But his distraction had proven to be his downfall. He was body-slammed to the ground because he was too slow. His blade went clattering away and he found himself pinned down by a vampire with locs who laughed as fangs shot down over teeth in preparation to feed.
And instead of fighting, Dean shut his eyes tight and looked away in an intense wince, bracing himself for the pain and most likely the kill. But then, nothing happened. Well, no biting and blood sucking, anyway. There was a swoosh, the sound of flesh being intersected by metal, and the sound of a head hitting someplace nearby. Dean opened his stunned eyes and stared up at his savior, expecting to see Benny or Cas. But instead he saw a tall, athletically built girl with long hair put into a ponytail; a girl who was covered in grime and dirt and blood splatters and holding a machete, a girl he never thought he would see again in his life. She kicked the vampire's body off of him with a booted foot, her expression severe from the effort she'd just expended. The look of battle-rage faded as their eyes met and instead, a choked up emotional expression tensed her features. "Hi, Dean." Her voice sort of caught on his name.
He was frozen in place, half horrified and half amazed, barely able to believe his eyes for a second. She wore a tank top and the color was indeterminate because of how dingy it was; her arms looked stronger than he remembered them being in a long time; she had a crossbow strapped across her back, a machete holster at her thigh, and he recognized her but… how?
"…A-Alex?" he breathed, too shocked to know how to react or how to even think. Was he hallucinating? Maybe that vamp had killed him and this was his last vision.
She stood over him like a skyscraper, impossibly tall and heroic as she had the audacity to crack a sloppy grin at him. She held her hand down to him and made a 'get up' motion, waiting for him to grab her hand. "You just gonna lay there all day, lazybones?" she teased, and his heart punched through his chest at the joke because it really hit him: this was no hallucination.
"Oh my god," he managed, grabbing her hand. She helped him up and the second he was able, brother slammed sister into a crushing hug, out of breath and losing composure fast. He tightened his arms around her even more and squeezed his eyes shut, crumbling apart, so happy and emotional that he found himself crying. She hugged him machete and all with equal fierceness, and he heard her laugh ever-so-softly, a relieved and exhausted sound. Her fingers clenched into the back of his neck hard and he mimicked her, fingers digging into the back of her head carelessly as he buried his face in the top of her shoulder and took a long, unsteady breath. He remembered one of their last interactions together and how he had insulted and hurt and pushed her away. Dean hugged her all the harder, overcome completely with relief. And then he grabbed her arms and pushed away from her enough to look at her again and verify that she was really there because he suspected it was too good to be true. But she was. Her face was all scratched up and dirty and she basically looked like she'd been through the ringer, but she also had this composure to her that struck him. Tears gleamed in her eyes but she was smiling and okay, in control of her emotions, apparently very glad to see him too. But… "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, voice gone tight and soft from surprise and emotion alike.
"What kind of question is that?" she asked tenderly, her shining eyes glinting at him as she grinned through wavering emotions. "Someone had to get your stupid ass outta here."
He couldn't help it. He grinned at the dumb comment and the way she said it. Grinned. For what felt like the first time in forever. And then he hugged her again, amazed and of the conviction that he was never gonna do anything to upset her ever again. As dead as he had felt a minute ago, he felt like he was suddenly given new purpose. He was laughing weakly through his growing relief and amazement. A million questions competed to be asked first, then he realized one was much more important than all the others. "Wait." He moved back again, frowning abruptly. "Wait. Where's Sam?" He looked around for their taller brother but didn't see him anywhere. Was he somewhere nearby? Had they gotten separated when they came here to Purgatory?
Alex grew hesitant. "He's uh, he's not here," she said, then at the look on Dean's face she hurried to reassure him, squeezing one of his forearms for effect. "But everything's fine. He's… he's running things topside."
Later, Dean would realize he should have recognized that as a nervous, impulsively told lie. But in the moment, he just accepted what she said. Wherever Sam was, Dean left it alone for a minute. He was too amazed that after nearly a year, his sister was standing there in front of him. Without warning, his inner pains and fears that he'd carried so long made him suddenly choke on his own voice. "Oh my god, I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years," he confessed, his eyes brimming with happiness and conflict at the same time. He faltered, wetting his lips apprehensively and letting out a nervous little laugh. "I thought after… after what I said, m-maybe you'd left me to rot in here."
Alex's face slowly fell into a quietly severe expression when he said that and she shook her head twice, deliberately as her face screwed up. "Don't you say that," she said. Then more firmly: "Don't you think that." Mild hurt confusion and then staunch conviction crossed her face as she spoke again. "Nothing you ever say or do will ever make it where I won't save you if you need saving," she told him, eyebrows working inward and upward at the centermost part. He believed her. She sounded so severe and final about it. "You're my brother." A long pause as her voice almost gave out completely, as she nearly started to cry. "And I would die for you." Wordless, Dean couldn't respond except to nod tensely as he fought a working face. Alex managed a courageous smile despite her glittering eyes in an attempt to lighten the mood a little bit. "I don't care what bullshit you said to me," she said, knowing exactly why he thought what he did. "I got your back."
He nodded again, his features working hard as he tried to keep it together. "It was bullshit," he whispered, unable to speak any louder than that.
Alex nodded her understanding as emotions began to get the best of her. She hugged her familiar, safe, and solid brother again. For the first time in ten months, she felt all right again for a few seconds. And then she swallowed a hard lump in her throat and stood back, dashing away the few tears that had fallen. She was bracing herself for the worst because she'd found Dean alone. The all right feeling began to fade as she prepared herself for the bad news she knew must be coming.
"W-where's Cas?" she asked, trying not to sound as petrified as she felt. If he was dead… if he'd died in here… she wouldn't know how to go on. Her voice lowered and faltered further because she felt like he must be. But still, she didn't want to believe it. "Is he… did he…"
Dean opened his mouth to reply to her, but the sound of a snapping twig cut him off. Alex's eyes whipped to the ridge where the sound had come from. And everything crashed down around her when she saw that it wasn't another vampire or a monster standing there. It was him. Her heart slammed up into her throat as it skipped a beat and rendered her unable to breathe. The world seemed to fade out as her hands fell away from Dean.
The angel stood there in his filthy, torn-up trench coat with a jagged, blood-stained machete held at his side and a slack, awestruck look on his features—the expression on his face was nearly beyond description. He was gazing at her in a trance of disbelief, and she was the same. Unable to move or breathe or function at all for a few heartbeats, hardly daring to believe it was really him. He was almost unrecognizable. His face was grimy and smeared by dirt, his hair was matted to his head, he'd grown a thick, wild beard. But it was him. And she had never seen anything better in all of her life. Her voice caught in her throat as she said his name so softly. "Cas?" She said that and it broke their frozen stances. The machete he held dropped to the ground and it was hard to say who ran first, but they met halfway and crashed into each others arms hard, Alex sobbing out her relief as his arms slammed around her.
She could never have predicted the way that moment would make her feel. For so long she had existed alone and been about nothing but a mission, but at Cas's embrace she remembered who she had once been: beloved of an angel. This angel. She was treasured and adored and part of something out of a love story. She belonged. It all crashed back over her at the power of a thousand percent. The way she loved him and who he was to her. She cried harder, completely overwhelmed, shaking hard, not daring to let go of him for even a second. He was crying too which only made her sob harder and hold tighter. Her arms were crisscrossed behind his head and her fingers were clenched into his hair as one of his hands gripped the back of her head and kept her close. He shook against her as his arms held her then he picked her up just a little as his face buried in the side of her neck then her shoulder, he set her back down and they remained there for a long moment, holding each other hard, calming down slowly as their racing hearts slowed.
When they pulled apart just enough to see the other, their eyes met and it didn't matter who was watching or what had happened or anything else. They were of the same mind and before either had a chance to second guess the decision, they both moved close again to crash their lips together in a long, fervent kiss. It was the first time they'd kissed since before Cas took Sam's insanity—a year—Cas's hands cupped her face in desperate tenderness and it showed on both of their faces just how much the kiss meant to them. She had forgotten what the touch of his lips did to her, how his presence made her feel, where his touch and love took her to. And now, she remembered. That kiss lasted both a lifetime and only a snatched couple of seconds before it was over. Foreheads touched and rested as they drew back and their eyes remained closed for a couple heartbeats. Cas gently brushed some errant hairs off the side of her face with the softest fingertips and she opened her eyes to look into his. Brilliant blue not even Purgatory could dull. His kiss had taken her breath away—she was dizzy and high and beside herself. He looked the same. "I… I thought I would never see you again," he whispered in a choked voice.
Her hands slid to touch his face on either side—his expression was soul crushing and he had tear tracks sliding down into his dark beard. "I know," she replied in the same whispering volume, every bit as emotional as he was. "I thought the same thing." She rubbed her thumbs through his wiry, rough beard, grinning suddenly despite it all. "Nice shag carpeting, Cas."
A smile echoed on his face—his eyes softened and crinkled a little. He caught one of her hands in his. His hand felt warm, rough, heavy, and his fingers closed around hers—he pressed a kiss into her palm gently then kissed her lingeringly on the forehead, gentle and sweet and so earnest, so thankful as his fingers stroked down once at the back of her head. Alex shut her eyes and fingers curled into his coat as the softest sound of whimpering gratitude caught in her throat. She thought of how she had lost him so many times. But right now, in his arms like this, as he bent down and gently angled his face so that his nose brushed the side of hers just before he kissed her again… he was found. And she was found, too.