Fic: Crossover: Supernatural: Silent Hill: Dean and Cas (4/?)
Title: Supernatural: Silent Hill
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 4/? (probably about 15)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language
Genre: Crossover/a bit AU
Spoilers: season five Supernatural, Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games.
Characters: Focus on Dean and Castiel friendship or pre-slash depending on your preference, but some Sam and Bobby as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Silent Hill, I'm only playing with them.
A/N: I blatantly steal elements/scenarios from the Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games, but I've also created some of my own/expanded upon elements to create an insane trip to Silent Hill tailor made for Dean and Cas, hence the AU part of this fic.
Special Thanks: to my beta skylar_matthews
Summary: Dean and Cas get trapped in Silent Hill. Sam and Bobby are on the outside trying to find them - will they find a way out...
Word Count:2839 (total 22,435 so far)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Sam left a fourth message on Dean’s voicemail. He hung up and swallowed. His chest felt tight.
“Still no answer?” Bobby asked.
“No. Nothing. I’m worried Bobby. Dean can be irresponsible at times, but he would never ignore his phone during a time like this unless something was wrong.”
Sam glanced back at the pile of boxes and folders.
The pair had, had to break inside. Braham’s Archive had been closed, and they hadn’t wanted to wait until morning. Sam had picked the lock; there hadn’t been an alarm to disable. Small towns had their advantages. They’d spent the better part of thirty minutes roaming the halls trying to figure out where to look. The files on Silent Hill had been under lock and key in a “restricted” section of the archives. This town did not want just anybody viewing them.
He’d picked that lock as well.
They’d been rooting through them for four hours now. What they had learned wasn’t encouraging. Besides the town being abandoned thirty years ago due to the fire, they had discovered it had been founded by an obscure religious sect that had no problem burning people alive if they deemed them to be evil.
They called themselves simply: the Order.
His gaze fell on a photo of a burned body that had been dumped in the woods a mile outside of town. They had never proved it, but the police had suspected that members of this group had killed him in a ritual sacrifice trying to set free one of their gods.
“You want to go look for them?” Bobby’s gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.
He thought about Dean and Cas out there alone with the possibility that some of these wacko’s were still running around. “Yeah. I do.”
****
Dean woke up with a serious hangover. How much did I drink last night? He lifted his throbbing head, and blinked away the stars. His vision cleared, but what he saw didn’t make sense. White everywhere. Was it snowing? Where the hell was he?
Dean touched his forehead. He could feel something rough and tender in the center; he looked down at his hand. Flecks of dried blood were sprinkled on his fingertips. He glanced in the mirror, it could have been worse. The cut didn’t look deep and it had already started to scab over.
He turned his head and saw Cas slumped forward in the passenger seat, arms lip.
That’s when it all came back in a rush of color and pain. Silent Hill, the radio, the bridge, and the girl. Dean’s stomach churned as he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached out to check on his friend. What if he’d hit her? All he could recall was smashing into the side of the bridge, but his brain wasn’t exactly operating on all four cylinders.
“Cas.” Dean cupped his friends chin and lifted, getting a good look at his face. It was ashen, the dark circles under his eyes looked bruised, his jaw was slack, and there was a shallow cut across his cheek. Cas moaned. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Cas’s half open mouth and dripped onto the armrest.
Dean cringed, the pounding in his head increased.
“Cas,” he tried again, his voice strained, his shoulders tense.
Another moan, then Cas’s eyelids shuttered.
Dean leaned him back against the seat, careful not to jar him.
He said his name more forcefully this time and Cas’s eyes flew open, darted about the car, then came to rest on Dean.
“You okay?” Dean asked while Cas tried to compose himself.
Cas wiped blood away from his chin, and sat up a little straighter. He grimaced. “I’ve been better,” his voice was rougher than normal.
“Same here,” Dean replied.
“What happened?” Cas looked around.
“We crashed into the side of a bridge,” Dean supplied.
“I don’t see any bridge.” Cas leaned forward, his eyes searching.
Now that it was established they were both alive and somewhat alert Dean allowed himself to really take in his surroundings. Cas was right. They were sitting in the middle of a road, not smashed against anything. The car didn’t even appear damaged; although it was dusted with white powder. Dean watched as flakes peppered his windshield. The night had been clear and nowhere near cold enough for a blizzard to have rolled in while they’d been taking a time out. Then there was the fog. It was thick and seemed to swallow everything up; he could only see clearly a few feet in any direction.
“Well, that’s weird.” Dean offered, lolling his head in Cas’s direction hoping he had something to offer.
Cas rubbed at his eyes. “I agree.”
Nope.
“Do you remember the wreck?” Dean prodded.
Cas hesitated before quietly answering, “No. The last thing I remember is feeling weak - then nothing.”
Dean swallowed. “I say we figure this out later and find our way back to the main road.”
Cas nodded.
Dean tried to start the car. Nothing happened. The engine didn’t even make a grunt.
Dammit.
He fought down the panic that kept trying to bubble over.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam. It rang, there was a weird static, then the line disconnected. He tried again. Same result.
I hate this shit.
It looked like they were going to have to do this the hard way.
“You feeling up to taking a look around, Cas? ‘Cuz I’m getting a major Wizard of Oz, we’re not in Kansas any more kind of vibe off this place,” Dean said, his palms sweaty. He realized Cas probably wouldn’t get his drift and added, “this place feels like trouble.”
Cas’s coloring was a bit better, but he still looked like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring and lost every time. The angel’s hand lifted and he pressed it against his chest. He took a shuddering breath. “I agree - this place has a sense of wrongness to it, and that energy I told you about sensing briefly on your fathers letter, it’s overpowering here. Almost suffocating.”
Dean was beginning to seriously doubt his dad had anything to do with that letter.
“You want to wait here while I check it out?” Dean tried not to let worry creep into his tone. He’d seen Cas walk away from far worse than a car crash unscathed; the fact that his friend still hadn’t healed had Dean on edge . Whatever that energy was, he worried it was seriously messing with Castiel’s mojo.
Cas’s hand fell away, his eyes darkened, and his expression became one of determination. “No. We’ll go together.”
Dean felt a surge of relief, everything inside him was screaming to stick close to the angel. Outwardly he played it cool, flashing a cocky grin. “Alright, let’s go see what mess we’ve gotten ourselves into this time.”
*****
Cas stepped out of the car and leaned on it briefly when a wave of dizziness assaulted him. Dean was too busy squinting at something off in the distance to notice. Cas couldn’t help but feel relieved; Dean had enough on his mind without worrying about the angel keeling over on him.
The moment passed and he felt better. With each breath a bit more control came to him. This place was affecting Castiel on many levels, but it seemed the longer he was here, the more he was able to tolerate it.
Not everything was getting better though.
His grace felt shackled; some force was pressing against it. Something or someone was trying to restrain him. Since waking up in the car he hadn’t tried to do anything more than reach out with his senses. Cas wanted to wait until his strength returned before trying anything that would require more power. He’d picked up enough to know there was a dark presence here, one that he didn’t recognize.
He looked up and the strange substance falling from the sky fell onto his cheek. Cas wiped at it, then peered at his finger. It was ash. Cas watched it continue to fall; everything around them was coated with it. The road, the car, their clothing, the guard rail that bordered the highway to his right.
It was disconcerting.
Cas heard a noise, he jerked his head to the back of the Impala. Dean had opened the trunk. Cas hadn’t even noticed him walk back there.
So much for enhanced angel senses.
“This fog is a real bitch,” Dean grumbled while rummaging through their supplies.
“It is inconvenient,” Cas agreed, then walked towards the rear of the car. When Cas got within a few feet of Dean he picked up a brief spike of emotion from his friend. Dean was on edge.
Apparently, our bond is not affected by this place, Cas mused. That thought brought him some measure of comfort.
“There’s also ash falling from the sky,” Cas added, keeping his tone level.
Dean blinked, held out his hand, caught some, and rubbed it between his fingers. “Damn.” His gaze drifted upward; Cas watched Dean’s face as he tried to make sense of this newest insanity. Cas hoped he had better luck than him. After a few moments Dean coughed, then told him, “I think I could almost make out a sign ahead of us.”
“We should investigate.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going anywhere without the proper equipment.”
Dean grabbed his duffel and loaded it with ammo, holy water, salt, silver daggers, matches, and other various weapons. He tossed in a flashlight as well. Dean slung it over his shoulder and grabbed several guns. One was larger than the other, Cas didn’t know their names, although he knew they had them.
Dean smiled, held up the longer weapon and said, “Sawed off shotgun, my personal favorite. Now let’s go storm the castle.”
They trudged forward, Cas peered into the sea of fog and saw the outline of what was probably the sign.
When they got closer the writing became legible.
Welcome to Silent Hill.
They had finally found it.
“Of course,” Dean growled, he stared up at the writing, his fingers tightening around the shotgun. “Welcome my ass.”
Cas knew it was irrational, but he did not want to go any further. All of his being was urging him to head in the opposite direction.
Dean must have had the same compulsion because he asked, his voice gentle. “As much as I hate flying angel air, you think you’ve got it in you to beam us out of here?”
Cas swallowed, he’d been wondering the same thing himself. “I can try.”
Dean nodded and Cas crossed the distance between them. Cas knew this was a bad idea, but he had to at least make the attempt. He pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead and tried to reach for his grace. A presence that felt slimy and dark coiled around his core. Pain ripped through him, his skin felt like it was being flayed, his chest had a vise pressed against it. Cas’s knees buckled, and he collapsed, curling into a fetal position, somehow managing not to scream.
He was vaguely aware of Dean yelling something, he felt hands on his face, but he couldn’t respond. His vocal cords felt rubbery; the only noise he could make was a whimper.
After what seemed like days the pain slowly started to fade. Cas focused on Dean’s voice and little by little, the words started making sense.
“Don’t make me kick your ass.” A low growl, then clothes rustling. “You better be okay Cas, because I am not in the mood to carry you out of here.” Dean’s fingers pressed against his throat. “You’ve got a pulse; I think that’s good, but who knows with you angels.”
Cas’s lips twitched, not quite forming a smile, but they at least made the attempt.
The pain was almost gone; his strength slowly returning.
“There will be no need to kick my ass,” Cas tried to say - his tongue hadn’t woken up entirely. It was more of a series of grunts and groans than actual speech.
Cas opened his eyes. Dean was hovering above him; his eyes clouded with worry.
Dean signed with relief, then his expression turned severe. “Don’t. Do. That. Again,” he growled.
“I don’t plan to,” his tongue cooperated more this time.
“Can you sit up?” Dean kept glancing around, he wondered if his friend had seen something while he’d been writhing in pain.
Cas sat up. He expected dizziness, or another wave of pain, but nothing happened. “Yes. I can,” he announced.
Dean smirked. “I can see that genius. What happened?”
“Something is preventing me from using my grace.”
“So that’s what sent you into that fit?” Dean appeared skeptical.
Cas shifted, his gaze fell to Dean’s chest. “Not exactly. It should not have been painful. We should have simply remained here. Instead - when I tried to pull on my grace-it felt like something attacked me.”
“What could have done that?” Dean’s voice had risen a few octaves.
“I don’t know. I have never experienced anything like this.”
“Freaking wonderful,” Dean groaned. “Using those lovely abilities of yours is obviously not a good idea right now,” his friend surmised.
Cas nodded, Dean would get no arguments from him. He had been invaded; it was not an experience he was eager to repeat.
Dean reached into the holster he wore across his hips and pulled out the smaller gun, then offered it to Cas.
“You want me to take that?” Cas asked, making no move to reach for the weapon.
“Yes.” Dean’s gaze was piercing. “This place is bad news. You know it and I know it. Without your angel juices flowing, you might need some other way to defend yourself,” Dean’s tone had an air of finality to it. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Cas took the gun awkwardly, letting it dangle from his fingers. He’d never fired one before, he’d never had use for them.
“This is a 9mm handgun, safety’s off, you just point and shoot. Nice and simple,” Dean told him speaking slowly and patiently. Dean then proceeded to show him where the trigger was and how to reload it. He made him practice slapping a new clip in several times. When he was satisfied with Cas’s performance he slipped an extra clip of ammo into Cas’s pocket, and asked, “you good?”
He was feeling much better; in the time it had taken Dean to teach him the basics of this form of weaponry, his body had recovered. He felt almost normal, except for the pressure on his grace. He could still feel that energy weaving itself into his own, keeping him restrained. Rendering him almost powerless.
“I’m better,” Cas replied.
Dean stood from his crouch, then reached down, and hauled Cas up.
“Let’s go back the way we came. See if we can reach the main road and hitch a ride back to that diner. We’ll call Sam and Bobby from there.” Dean gave him a quick tight lipped smile.
Cas felt relief sweep over him. All he wanted was to get out of this place. “Sounds good.”
They headed back. Cas was oddly comforted by the weight of this foreign weapon in his hand. It made him feel less helpless.
They reached the Impala. Dean murmured an apology to the vehicle, promising they’d come back for her later, then they continued forward. The pair walked another fifty feet, passing a fenced off area with broken down, and torn apart cars littering the ground inside of it. Cas squinted into the ripples of fog ahead of them; what he saw took his breath away.
“What the hell?” Dean sputtered, his tone disbelieving. He froze in place gaping at what lay before them.
Cas kept moving forward; he crossed onto the cracked and broken pavement. He stopped at the edge of what had once been the highway.
It was gone.
It was all gone.
The abyss stretched on for as far as he could see; so did the fog. Cas turned his head to the right; there was a jagged section of rock that stretched on forever, but connected with nothing. It made the grand canyon seem like child’s play. It looked like someone had grabbed this piece of the earth, broken it off, then set it in the middle of nowhere.
Cas was only certain of one thing. Wherever they were now - this wasn’t where they belonged. This wasn’t his fathers kingdom. And it seemed angels had no domain in this bizarre and distorted existence.
Cas fought the river of fear that was rising from deep within him; the pressure on his chest increased, his grace shuddered - as if it too were starting to panic.
Cas bent down and peered over the edge of the world.
He could see nothing but fog, blackness, and infinity. They were trapped here and something did not want them to leave.
Next Chapter
Feel free to friend this journal for the insanity :)
Comments are loved. They feed my muse and let me know if anyone's actually reading this :)
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 4/? (probably about 15)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language
Genre: Crossover/a bit AU
Spoilers: season five Supernatural, Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games.
Characters: Focus on Dean and Castiel friendship or pre-slash depending on your preference, but some Sam and Bobby as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Silent Hill, I'm only playing with them.
A/N: I blatantly steal elements/scenarios from the Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games, but I've also created some of my own/expanded upon elements to create an insane trip to Silent Hill tailor made for Dean and Cas, hence the AU part of this fic.
Special Thanks: to my beta skylar_matthews
Summary: Dean and Cas get trapped in Silent Hill. Sam and Bobby are on the outside trying to find them - will they find a way out...
Word Count:2839 (total 22,435 so far)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Sam left a fourth message on Dean’s voicemail. He hung up and swallowed. His chest felt tight.
“Still no answer?” Bobby asked.
“No. Nothing. I’m worried Bobby. Dean can be irresponsible at times, but he would never ignore his phone during a time like this unless something was wrong.”
Sam glanced back at the pile of boxes and folders.
The pair had, had to break inside. Braham’s Archive had been closed, and they hadn’t wanted to wait until morning. Sam had picked the lock; there hadn’t been an alarm to disable. Small towns had their advantages. They’d spent the better part of thirty minutes roaming the halls trying to figure out where to look. The files on Silent Hill had been under lock and key in a “restricted” section of the archives. This town did not want just anybody viewing them.
He’d picked that lock as well.
They’d been rooting through them for four hours now. What they had learned wasn’t encouraging. Besides the town being abandoned thirty years ago due to the fire, they had discovered it had been founded by an obscure religious sect that had no problem burning people alive if they deemed them to be evil.
They called themselves simply: the Order.
His gaze fell on a photo of a burned body that had been dumped in the woods a mile outside of town. They had never proved it, but the police had suspected that members of this group had killed him in a ritual sacrifice trying to set free one of their gods.
“You want to go look for them?” Bobby’s gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.
He thought about Dean and Cas out there alone with the possibility that some of these wacko’s were still running around. “Yeah. I do.”
****
Dean woke up with a serious hangover. How much did I drink last night? He lifted his throbbing head, and blinked away the stars. His vision cleared, but what he saw didn’t make sense. White everywhere. Was it snowing? Where the hell was he?
Dean touched his forehead. He could feel something rough and tender in the center; he looked down at his hand. Flecks of dried blood were sprinkled on his fingertips. He glanced in the mirror, it could have been worse. The cut didn’t look deep and it had already started to scab over.
He turned his head and saw Cas slumped forward in the passenger seat, arms lip.
That’s when it all came back in a rush of color and pain. Silent Hill, the radio, the bridge, and the girl. Dean’s stomach churned as he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached out to check on his friend. What if he’d hit her? All he could recall was smashing into the side of the bridge, but his brain wasn’t exactly operating on all four cylinders.
“Cas.” Dean cupped his friends chin and lifted, getting a good look at his face. It was ashen, the dark circles under his eyes looked bruised, his jaw was slack, and there was a shallow cut across his cheek. Cas moaned. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Cas’s half open mouth and dripped onto the armrest.
Dean cringed, the pounding in his head increased.
“Cas,” he tried again, his voice strained, his shoulders tense.
Another moan, then Cas’s eyelids shuttered.
Dean leaned him back against the seat, careful not to jar him.
He said his name more forcefully this time and Cas’s eyes flew open, darted about the car, then came to rest on Dean.
“You okay?” Dean asked while Cas tried to compose himself.
Cas wiped blood away from his chin, and sat up a little straighter. He grimaced. “I’ve been better,” his voice was rougher than normal.
“Same here,” Dean replied.
“What happened?” Cas looked around.
“We crashed into the side of a bridge,” Dean supplied.
“I don’t see any bridge.” Cas leaned forward, his eyes searching.
Now that it was established they were both alive and somewhat alert Dean allowed himself to really take in his surroundings. Cas was right. They were sitting in the middle of a road, not smashed against anything. The car didn’t even appear damaged; although it was dusted with white powder. Dean watched as flakes peppered his windshield. The night had been clear and nowhere near cold enough for a blizzard to have rolled in while they’d been taking a time out. Then there was the fog. It was thick and seemed to swallow everything up; he could only see clearly a few feet in any direction.
“Well, that’s weird.” Dean offered, lolling his head in Cas’s direction hoping he had something to offer.
Cas rubbed at his eyes. “I agree.”
Nope.
“Do you remember the wreck?” Dean prodded.
Cas hesitated before quietly answering, “No. The last thing I remember is feeling weak - then nothing.”
Dean swallowed. “I say we figure this out later and find our way back to the main road.”
Cas nodded.
Dean tried to start the car. Nothing happened. The engine didn’t even make a grunt.
Dammit.
He fought down the panic that kept trying to bubble over.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam. It rang, there was a weird static, then the line disconnected. He tried again. Same result.
I hate this shit.
It looked like they were going to have to do this the hard way.
“You feeling up to taking a look around, Cas? ‘Cuz I’m getting a major Wizard of Oz, we’re not in Kansas any more kind of vibe off this place,” Dean said, his palms sweaty. He realized Cas probably wouldn’t get his drift and added, “this place feels like trouble.”
Cas’s coloring was a bit better, but he still looked like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring and lost every time. The angel’s hand lifted and he pressed it against his chest. He took a shuddering breath. “I agree - this place has a sense of wrongness to it, and that energy I told you about sensing briefly on your fathers letter, it’s overpowering here. Almost suffocating.”
Dean was beginning to seriously doubt his dad had anything to do with that letter.
“You want to wait here while I check it out?” Dean tried not to let worry creep into his tone. He’d seen Cas walk away from far worse than a car crash unscathed; the fact that his friend still hadn’t healed had Dean on edge . Whatever that energy was, he worried it was seriously messing with Castiel’s mojo.
Cas’s hand fell away, his eyes darkened, and his expression became one of determination. “No. We’ll go together.”
Dean felt a surge of relief, everything inside him was screaming to stick close to the angel. Outwardly he played it cool, flashing a cocky grin. “Alright, let’s go see what mess we’ve gotten ourselves into this time.”
*****
Cas stepped out of the car and leaned on it briefly when a wave of dizziness assaulted him. Dean was too busy squinting at something off in the distance to notice. Cas couldn’t help but feel relieved; Dean had enough on his mind without worrying about the angel keeling over on him.
The moment passed and he felt better. With each breath a bit more control came to him. This place was affecting Castiel on many levels, but it seemed the longer he was here, the more he was able to tolerate it.
Not everything was getting better though.
His grace felt shackled; some force was pressing against it. Something or someone was trying to restrain him. Since waking up in the car he hadn’t tried to do anything more than reach out with his senses. Cas wanted to wait until his strength returned before trying anything that would require more power. He’d picked up enough to know there was a dark presence here, one that he didn’t recognize.
He looked up and the strange substance falling from the sky fell onto his cheek. Cas wiped at it, then peered at his finger. It was ash. Cas watched it continue to fall; everything around them was coated with it. The road, the car, their clothing, the guard rail that bordered the highway to his right.
It was disconcerting.
Cas heard a noise, he jerked his head to the back of the Impala. Dean had opened the trunk. Cas hadn’t even noticed him walk back there.
So much for enhanced angel senses.
“This fog is a real bitch,” Dean grumbled while rummaging through their supplies.
“It is inconvenient,” Cas agreed, then walked towards the rear of the car. When Cas got within a few feet of Dean he picked up a brief spike of emotion from his friend. Dean was on edge.
Apparently, our bond is not affected by this place, Cas mused. That thought brought him some measure of comfort.
“There’s also ash falling from the sky,” Cas added, keeping his tone level.
Dean blinked, held out his hand, caught some, and rubbed it between his fingers. “Damn.” His gaze drifted upward; Cas watched Dean’s face as he tried to make sense of this newest insanity. Cas hoped he had better luck than him. After a few moments Dean coughed, then told him, “I think I could almost make out a sign ahead of us.”
“We should investigate.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going anywhere without the proper equipment.”
Dean grabbed his duffel and loaded it with ammo, holy water, salt, silver daggers, matches, and other various weapons. He tossed in a flashlight as well. Dean slung it over his shoulder and grabbed several guns. One was larger than the other, Cas didn’t know their names, although he knew they had them.
Dean smiled, held up the longer weapon and said, “Sawed off shotgun, my personal favorite. Now let’s go storm the castle.”
They trudged forward, Cas peered into the sea of fog and saw the outline of what was probably the sign.
When they got closer the writing became legible.
Welcome to Silent Hill.
They had finally found it.
“Of course,” Dean growled, he stared up at the writing, his fingers tightening around the shotgun. “Welcome my ass.”
Cas knew it was irrational, but he did not want to go any further. All of his being was urging him to head in the opposite direction.
Dean must have had the same compulsion because he asked, his voice gentle. “As much as I hate flying angel air, you think you’ve got it in you to beam us out of here?”
Cas swallowed, he’d been wondering the same thing himself. “I can try.”
Dean nodded and Cas crossed the distance between them. Cas knew this was a bad idea, but he had to at least make the attempt. He pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead and tried to reach for his grace. A presence that felt slimy and dark coiled around his core. Pain ripped through him, his skin felt like it was being flayed, his chest had a vise pressed against it. Cas’s knees buckled, and he collapsed, curling into a fetal position, somehow managing not to scream.
He was vaguely aware of Dean yelling something, he felt hands on his face, but he couldn’t respond. His vocal cords felt rubbery; the only noise he could make was a whimper.
After what seemed like days the pain slowly started to fade. Cas focused on Dean’s voice and little by little, the words started making sense.
“Don’t make me kick your ass.” A low growl, then clothes rustling. “You better be okay Cas, because I am not in the mood to carry you out of here.” Dean’s fingers pressed against his throat. “You’ve got a pulse; I think that’s good, but who knows with you angels.”
Cas’s lips twitched, not quite forming a smile, but they at least made the attempt.
The pain was almost gone; his strength slowly returning.
“There will be no need to kick my ass,” Cas tried to say - his tongue hadn’t woken up entirely. It was more of a series of grunts and groans than actual speech.
Cas opened his eyes. Dean was hovering above him; his eyes clouded with worry.
Dean signed with relief, then his expression turned severe. “Don’t. Do. That. Again,” he growled.
“I don’t plan to,” his tongue cooperated more this time.
“Can you sit up?” Dean kept glancing around, he wondered if his friend had seen something while he’d been writhing in pain.
Cas sat up. He expected dizziness, or another wave of pain, but nothing happened. “Yes. I can,” he announced.
Dean smirked. “I can see that genius. What happened?”
“Something is preventing me from using my grace.”
“So that’s what sent you into that fit?” Dean appeared skeptical.
Cas shifted, his gaze fell to Dean’s chest. “Not exactly. It should not have been painful. We should have simply remained here. Instead - when I tried to pull on my grace-it felt like something attacked me.”
“What could have done that?” Dean’s voice had risen a few octaves.
“I don’t know. I have never experienced anything like this.”
“Freaking wonderful,” Dean groaned. “Using those lovely abilities of yours is obviously not a good idea right now,” his friend surmised.
Cas nodded, Dean would get no arguments from him. He had been invaded; it was not an experience he was eager to repeat.
Dean reached into the holster he wore across his hips and pulled out the smaller gun, then offered it to Cas.
“You want me to take that?” Cas asked, making no move to reach for the weapon.
“Yes.” Dean’s gaze was piercing. “This place is bad news. You know it and I know it. Without your angel juices flowing, you might need some other way to defend yourself,” Dean’s tone had an air of finality to it. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Cas took the gun awkwardly, letting it dangle from his fingers. He’d never fired one before, he’d never had use for them.
“This is a 9mm handgun, safety’s off, you just point and shoot. Nice and simple,” Dean told him speaking slowly and patiently. Dean then proceeded to show him where the trigger was and how to reload it. He made him practice slapping a new clip in several times. When he was satisfied with Cas’s performance he slipped an extra clip of ammo into Cas’s pocket, and asked, “you good?”
He was feeling much better; in the time it had taken Dean to teach him the basics of this form of weaponry, his body had recovered. He felt almost normal, except for the pressure on his grace. He could still feel that energy weaving itself into his own, keeping him restrained. Rendering him almost powerless.
“I’m better,” Cas replied.
Dean stood from his crouch, then reached down, and hauled Cas up.
“Let’s go back the way we came. See if we can reach the main road and hitch a ride back to that diner. We’ll call Sam and Bobby from there.” Dean gave him a quick tight lipped smile.
Cas felt relief sweep over him. All he wanted was to get out of this place. “Sounds good.”
They headed back. Cas was oddly comforted by the weight of this foreign weapon in his hand. It made him feel less helpless.
They reached the Impala. Dean murmured an apology to the vehicle, promising they’d come back for her later, then they continued forward. The pair walked another fifty feet, passing a fenced off area with broken down, and torn apart cars littering the ground inside of it. Cas squinted into the ripples of fog ahead of them; what he saw took his breath away.
“What the hell?” Dean sputtered, his tone disbelieving. He froze in place gaping at what lay before them.
Cas kept moving forward; he crossed onto the cracked and broken pavement. He stopped at the edge of what had once been the highway.
It was gone.
It was all gone.
The abyss stretched on for as far as he could see; so did the fog. Cas turned his head to the right; there was a jagged section of rock that stretched on forever, but connected with nothing. It made the grand canyon seem like child’s play. It looked like someone had grabbed this piece of the earth, broken it off, then set it in the middle of nowhere.
Cas was only certain of one thing. Wherever they were now - this wasn’t where they belonged. This wasn’t his fathers kingdom. And it seemed angels had no domain in this bizarre and distorted existence.
Cas fought the river of fear that was rising from deep within him; the pressure on his chest increased, his grace shuddered - as if it too were starting to panic.
Cas bent down and peered over the edge of the world.
He could see nothing but fog, blackness, and infinity. They were trapped here and something did not want them to leave.
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