The mind is its own place and, in itself
can make a Heaven of Hell or a Hell of Heaven.
— Paradise Lost, John Milton —
Purgatory was no place for humans. Nor was it meant for angels. It was a repository for the souls of demons, vampires, Leviathans, and other monstrous beings who were fit for neither Heaven nor Hell. But here Castiel was, an angel trapped in a place he had no right to be. What was worse, Dean was here too.
Purgatory was even less of a place for a human in an angel's company. Castiel was a beacon of light, drawing monsters to him as nectar draws a bee. He knew this. Dean knew this. But Dean had spent the better part of a year searching for Castiel after the angel had fled upon their arrival in Purgatory, vainly hoping to draw danger away from Dean. Now that he had finally found Castiel, Dean was adamant that they stay together and make their way home. It was useless to protest, futile to try and explain that he had to atone for the sins he had committed. Castiel told himself that he would comply simply to ensure Dean had not misplaced his trust in his vampire companion. But the truth ran deeper than that. Castiel had no real desire to distance himself from Dean. He had missed the hunter terribly in the time they'd been apart. It was an ache that had crept deep into his bones. A temporary salve to such a spiritual wound was worth the risk... or so he hoped. After all, it would only be until he saw Dean safely though the portal.
Of course, his worst fears were soon realized. His presence drew a horde of Leviathans. The ensuing battle was brutal, intense and damnably prolonged. Even the vampire was tired by the time the last Leviathan lay lifeless on the ground.
Breathing heavily, Benny surveyed the gory remains, his eyes widening in dismay. "Where's Dean?" he said.
They decided to split up, the better to cover more territory. Benny chose to retrace the route the Leviathans had taken to find them. Castiel headed in the opposite direction, towards the river, fear lending wings to his heels. Brambles tore at his clothing and branches slapped his face as he ran, heart pounding with the fear that he'd be too late. That Dean was already dead... or, worse, that he'd been carried off to face a slow, torturous death.
He almost ran straight into the river before catching himself on its brink. He stood staring blankly at a decapitated Leviathan whose head had rolled into the water. Two other bodies lay nearby in the tall grass. Yet a fourth was sprawled under a tree, several yards downstream.
"Cas," Dean said, stepping out of the shadow the old tree cast. Weary. Bloodied. But alive.
Castiel froze, rooted in place for the count of one heartbeat... two... And then he was again in motion, running, running not in fear this time, but with a swell of emotion that drew him forward like a magnet. Running to Dean. Folding him into his arms. Holding him as if he'd never let him go.
"Dean," he sighed, pouring all the relief and love in his heart into the utterance of the name.
"It's okay, Cas," Dean murmured, his arms coming up to return the angel's embrace. "I'm okay. It's all right. We won."
"Dean," Castiel repeated helplessly. And kissed him.
So entranced was the angel by the taste of Dean on his tongue, by his joy at savouring the very essence of the man, that he failed to notice Dean's hands had dropped down to his sides; that the pliant body in his arms had stiffened in shock, in surprise... god forbid, in horror. But as his mind caught up to his runaway body, trepidation replaced rapture. Castiel stepped back, ashamed of his impetuous behaviour; ready to recant, to somehow try and make amends for his audacity. Conciliatory words trembled on his lips, words he never had the chance to say. Because suddenly he was the one who was shocked into immobility. Because Dean Winchester's heart had finally kickstarted his brain. And it was Dean's turn now to draw Castiel in, to fold him back into a tight embrace and return his kiss with unbridled enthusiasm.
Not that it took the angel long to respond...
They drank each other in as if they were dying men who, parched by the desert sun, had finally found a source of water. Their lips parted only when Dean had to draw a much needed breath. Their eyes locked, then; their fingers read the Braille of each other's face, until neither could stand another second without the taste of the other and they fell together once more. Time and place ceased to have any meaning. They were lost, lost to the wonder of finally, finally coming together.
Who knows how far passion might have carried them had not Benny's increasingly anxious cries of "Cas! Dean!" interrupted the moment.
"Have I ever mentioned how much I detest that vampire?" Castiel said, resting his forehead against Dean's.
"A time or two."
"And have I ever said how much I love you?"
"Every day. With every look you give me, with everything you do. But it's nice to hear the words." Dean placed a tender kiss on the angel's nose and reluctantly stepped away, moments before Benny pushed his way through the last of the tangled vegetation and joined them at the water's edge.
The vampire stared at them suspiciously. "You could have answered," he grumbled. "I thought you both were dead."
"Still alive and kicking," Dean replied. "Unlike my friends over there, who thought they'd captured a prize. Guess the joke's on them."
"Then may I suggest we get a move on. The sounds of battle carry, and the stench of death will draw more unwelcome attention." Benny tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. "If you're quite done here, that is."
"Are we?" Castiel inquired, also tilting his head.
"For now," Dean said, and smiled. "Let's go home."
"Amen to that, brother." Benny turned and walked away. "It's not far now. A day or two at most before we reach the portal."
Castiel's answering smile faded.
"It's mutual, you know," Dean said, casually continuing their earlier, interrupted conversation. The back of his hand brushed against the angel's, deliberate, lingering, and the fire the simple touch ignited in his veins made Castiel want to turn his hand and lace their fingers together.
But he didn't, of course. Instead, he let Dean go, trailing along behind as the human followed after the vampire, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. Castiel understood this was but a small foreshadowing of the pain he'd feel when Dean was truly gone, safely back on Earth where he belonged, and he would be left alone in this nightmarish place, with only the memory of their kisses to sustain him.
"I didn't know," he murmured softly to himself. "But now I do. And that's what makes it so hard to honour my resolution."
Knowing he was loved; knowing he didn't deserve that love; knowing he couldn't keep it, but wanting to with all his heart... He was being pulled in two directions at once, torn between elation and despair.
It was its own special kind of Purgatory.
And he knew there was no hope of escape.