Contrapasso Part 7
Title: Contrapasso
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
7.
They ran. What else could they do?
They ran the way Cas had told them to go before the angels had come, even though they'd already been that way. It should have surprised Dean that when they turned the corner out of the alleyway the street looked different, but it didn't. There were still fires, and trashed buildings and abandoned cars, but now thick, thorny bushes grew from cracks in the broken up road. They encroached into the ruined buildings, creeping up walls and what had once been traffic signs. The bushes bore no leaves, just spindly branches that looked dead but Dean could tell were alive. He'd swear they were moving when he looked away.
It made it worse that he and Sam had to touch the things, picking their way through the undergrowth that sprawled across the street, the sharp thorns scratching and biting at their bare skin. They couldn't move fast enough with this crap slowing them down. They'd lost Cas, just when they'd fucking got him back, and they didn't have a damn clue where he was.
"Not far," Dean fumed. "Not fucking far, he said."
"He couldn't know." Sam looked around anxiously. "It's all changed. The whole layout of this town. None of it looks the same."
"I noticed," Dean shot back.
All the side streets were filled with crackling, hissing fires and thick, sharp bushes. There was nowhere Cas could even be.
The sounds of other people had been distant before; echoes of yelling and screaming and wailing that reminded Dean of a place and time he'd spent the past two years trying to forget. The noise was getting closer, evidence that somewhere there were other living people in the town that wasn't a town anymore. And there was the uncomfortable, prickling feeling down Dean's back that they were being watched. He'd seen weirder things than to dismiss the possibility that it was the plants around them causing the feeling, sentient and out for blood, but Dean's instincts told him it was humans watching.
Walking beside him, Sam was tense too, the Colt in his hands half-raised. He'd sensed it too, but they hadn't seen a single other soul. In this thick mess of undergrowth, Dean couldn't imagine where the hell anyone could have been hiding.
Above them, the clouds hung thick and dark, unnaturally still like splotches of colour in a photo, a permanent feature of the place. At least the rain had mostly stopped.
Dean's jacket and jeans were still damp, clingy and uncomfortable in the bitter cold air. He was even more convinced now that the temperature was dropping with every step he took. Frost was beginning to form on the tips of bushes, spidery silver threads of ice decorating cracked glass windows and burned out cars. More and more Dean found himself slipping on frozen puddles. As they walked, Sam shifted restlessly, trying to keep himself warm and alert.
Cas hadn't even been wearing a jacket.
It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, and Dean had no way to know how long they'd been looking. His watch was long gone, stopped when he'd dived into that damn river to find Cas the first time around. At least then they'd had a direction, an idea of where to start looking. Now, here, they had nothing.
"Maybe we should turn back," Dean suggested finally, frustrated. "We might've missed something."
Behind them, Dean could hear what sounded like heavy boots running across broken ground. Dean's head whipped around but there was nothing there. Sam had stopped walking, turning in a slow circle, shotgun up. He shook his head, nothing there, but Dean was sure now they were being followed.
Half his attention on their surroundings and half on Dean, Sam began waking again. "There was nowhere he could've been back there, Dean."
Despite what Sam said, they both knew they couldn't be sure that they hadn't gone right past Cas and Dean hated it. They were being surrounded, Dean could feel it, and a growing smell of sulphur that could only have been demons. Dean wanted nothing more than to beat some information out of one of the fuckers. If he found the asshole that had tried drowning Cas he was going to rip it to fucking pieces and Dean was going to damn well enjoy it. If Dean found out anyone had hurt Cas again he was going to make sure the bastards responsible died long and painful deaths. Dean couldn't even bring himself to care how sick that was. He didn't care how hard he'd tried to not be that guy again. To not be someone who craved blood and pain. They were demons and it was Cas and he just didn't fucking care.
There was movement stirring all around them in the mess of thorns and bushes that walled them in and Dean couldn't decide if it was the plants shifting or demons moving them, trying to freak them out. It didn't help that the further they walked, the higher the undergrowth grew until some of the bushes became trees, tall and gangly with branches that seemed to be stretching out towards them. The branches were slick with something thick and red.
Movement turned to whispers turned to hissing, like laughter, gurgling, and muffled screams coming from the thick forest of branches. Dean just couldn't see any of it.
"Cas could be in there," Dean realised. "Cas could be in there."
"There's nothing-" Sam began, but Dean didn't want to hear it, cutting him off, "How the hell are we gonna find him?"
What were the chances of finding anything in that?
"We'll get him," Sam assured Dean, but he didn't sound exactly convinced either. Unsettled was a better word, eyeing up the creepy plant life on either side of them with wide, worried eyes. "Maybe he can find us."
Yeah, because Cas was gonna be in good enough shape to come looking for them. There was hope though, because Cas had sent them this way and he seemed to know his way around, and that made Dean think. Made Dean wonder. How did Cas know? What kind of a place was this, because it sure as hell wasn't like anywhere on Earth Dean'd ever been? How could they even get out without Cas? Dean had visions of him and Sam wandering forever, lost in this crazy, fucked-up town full of creepy-ass dead plants and buildings so ruined it was impossible to tell whether they'd been shops or houses or whatever before. There was fire still, patches of burning bushes and cars and greater fires in the distance -tall infernos like whole buildings caught alight- pouring out thick black smoke into the dull sky.
Then they came across the first corpse.
It was rotted and torn and must have been there a long while, strung up from one of the trees.
"You think it's a warning?" Sam asked, giving the tree a wide berth. The sweet, putrid smell of death overpowered the stench of ash and the sulphur.
"I think we need to look harder." If there was one thing in his life that Dean never wanted to see, it was Cas hung up like that. It wasn't going to happen, he told himself. Cas could handle himself. They'd find Cas one way or another.
Sam got it because he nodded agreement and moved on quickly.
The next body they came to looked more recently deceased, empty eyes staring out at them sightlessly.
They hurried past it, following the road. Dean was beginning to get the impression they would never actually find a way off it; there were so few turns and they never seemed to get any closer to the fires and the crumbled apartment blocks and anything else in the distance. That landscape beyond the immediate area hadn't changed for as long as they'd been walking this street. It was freaky and it was wrong, but they had no other direction to take but back the way they'd come.
Sam said, "You know what's weird?"
"This whole thing is weird, Sam," Dean retorted. More sounds, like fighting or arguing, came from somewhere to his left and Dean hefted his knife but kept moving forward.
"No," Sam said. "Well, yeah. But I mean, something else. I haven't seen a single animal."
"Animals, Sam?" Dean repeated disbelievingly.
Sam frowned in irritation. "None. Not even a bird or, I don't know, an insect. It's not right."
"Nothing about this place is right," Dean pointed out. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, conceding the point, but Dean could tell when his brother had gotten some idea in his head and was working it out.
"What is it?" Dean asked, because if Sam had some clue what Cas and all his cryptic shit meant then it might help work out how to find him and get out of this cursed town, or whatever it was.
Sam gave Dean a long, considering look before he began, "Dean, I'm not sure-"
There was no warning and nothing to explain why at that second maybe a dozen creatures that looked like humans but moved like nothing Dean had ever seen before broke out from the walls of growth around them. Dean didn't know how they'd been able to move through the thick, thorny branches without a scratch on them, but one minute they weren't there and the next there was a burly guy in camo gear clawing at Sam's throat.
Dean dropped his duffel to the ground and drew out the handgun he'd shoved down the back of his trousers, shooting the guy dead centre in the forehead. He went down, and Dean was thankful his bullets actually had effect. Whatever they were, they weren't human.
A woman wearing a short dress and no shoes and red stains splashed across her face ran at Dean with a wicked looking knife and Dean fought her off with a swift kick. She recovered quickly and charged again and this time Dean pulled out his own knife and blocked her with one arm while stabbing down into her chest with the other. He saw surprised, pitch-black eyes blinking back at him. Not exactly a shocker they were demons, but they didn't move like humans- more animal and wild than anything- and the bullets of a regular gun had affected one. Not that Dean was complaining. The normal rules didn't seem to apply in whatever place this was, and Dean took that as encouragement, gunning down two more demons who made a grab for him, and another who was going for Sam.
Dean heard Sam's shotgun fire once, and then again, but couldn't turn to see what was going on because there were more of the bastards headed his way, snapping and biting at his hands. They weren't cautious at all, even though they must have seen the others getting easily taken down. He remembered Cas saying there was no death here, and hoped that even if there wasn't, it would last long enough for him and Sam to get away.
It was damn hard to fire straight when you had demons coming at you from all sides, and Dean took a hard knock to his back where a brute of a man swung a baseball bat at Dean from behind, taking him by surprise. Another, carrying what looked disturbingly like a hatchet, managed to nick Dean's leg and Dean dispatched them both with bullets to their brains. It was deeply satisfying and Dean almost hoped for more. More to kill. More to take out the frustration and the wrongness and the anger on.
Dean's first priority though was to check that Sam was okay, but he could only hear the sounds of fighting, the shotgun again, and then he had to concentrate on a couple of demons trying to wrestle the knife right out of his hands. They weren't as strong as regular demons and Dean managed to turn the knife on one, using all his weight to drive the blade into the fucker's neck. The other he took out with a knee to the gut and a shot to the chest. Free for a few seconds from attack, Dean took the chance to breathe, trying to catch his breath. There were definitely less of them now, not like the police station, where the demons had been fucking endless. Their numbers were dwindling, and Dean was pretty sure the demons knew it too because their attacks weren't quite so confident as they had been. One creature in the shape of a woman took to throwing large rocks at Dean, one of them managing to knock Dean's shoulder so hard he was thrown back, hard, against the frozen ground. He felt busted up concrete against his back and had to kick off a crazed demon with wild hair and little in the way of clothing before being able to fire. The bitch fell where she stood, but another demon rushed Dean from the side, kicking the gun away before punching him full in the face.
The blow was powerful, knocking the sense right out of Dean and for a long minute he couldn't concentrate, couldn't see straight. It was hard to get his head to move to find out where his opponent had gone and what he was doing. He couldn't get his legs to kick out, or his arms to find the ground to try pushing himself upright or away, and Dean came to the conclusion that he was helpless and he was going to fucking die.
The killing blow never came though, instead there was Sam at his side, hauling Dean up by the elbow, saying, "Come on Dean," and, "We're getting out of here." Where exactly Sam thought they could go Dean had no idea.
It was so damn freezing. Dean's muscles were heavy and aching with it, and when Dean could finally get his head back in the game, when he could see where they were, it was snowing.
"Wonderful."
"It's better than rain," Sam said. He was still mostly carrying Dean, as well as his duffel -Dean's lost somewhere back on the road- but he was moving swiftly past trees and those ugly, evil-looking bushes. There were bodies on the ground, half-covered by snow. Nothing like a little horror as an incentive to keep going. To go faster.
The sounds of crying and anger and laughter were louder now, all around them, the forest receding the further they walked to reveal a street wider than it'd been before, still lined with the wreckage of buildings, but now there were people. More and more people. Some were gathered in groups on street corners, or huddled alone against the frames of buildings, or stripping bark from the trunks of the creepy-ass trees and sucking at the sap, or whatever, and Dean really didn't want to know. Most of them were focused on fighting or arguing or killing and ripping at each other. It was absolute anarchy.
Sam steered them around the fights, trying to keep to the shadows, and it was really damn good to finally have wall at their backs, even if it was half blown away and crumbling and slimy to the touch.
"Jesus Christ," Dean breathed. "Cas-"
"Yeah," Sam said tensely. "I know."
Because if he was here, and he had better fucking be, Dean damn well hoped he hadn't gotten involved in any battles with demons.
They had to be demons. The way they sliced each other up and snarled and the eyes on some of them turned black. And an angel among this crowd could not be any kind of good.
"We've got to find him."
Sam studied the lone creatures they passed, how they hunched up on themselves, murmuring and sneering at anything that came near. "We could... ask? Some of these... But if they don't know Cas is here then I don't wanna tell them."
Dean couldn't fault the logic in that. They'd only make things worse.
"We could try a summoning?" Dean suggested.
Sam didn't look impressed. "I don't know any of those for angels, do you?"
At the word 'angels' a few of the demons nearest them looked around, their eyes narrowing.
"Okay, let's shut up," Dean hissed at Sam, and let Sam lead them away quickly. For the most part the demons were ignoring them, concerned with their own shit but it was damn hard to think when all Dean could hear was agony and skin tearing and bones breaking and it was all too sickeningly familiar. Outnumbered by all these demons and no escape and it was like Dean's worst nightmare all over again.
They walked in silence, following the widening street because that's what Cas had said to do. There were clear paths off the road now, but it felt dangerous, wrong to change directions.
The snow was falling more heavily here and Dean zipped up his jacket, wishing he could rub his hands together. After the fight, Sam had retrieved Dean's gun and knife and there was no way Dean was letting go of his weapons again. Not with so many demons around them. He kept the handgun loose in his right hand, and the knife close in his pocket and remembered that being cold was way better than being dead.
In places the snow lay heavy on the ground, untouched, and in others it was soaked red or turned to a brown slush where feet had trampled through it. The snow didn't seem to affect the demons at all, unconcerned with how little or how much clothing they were wearing, or with how the snow got in their eyes or piled up around them and Dean hated them for it all.
Beside him, Sam was thinking again. Dean could tell by the way he furrowed his brow and his eyes stopped tracking the movements of the creatures they passed. Dean hoped to God he had something, because he was freezing to death and starting to feel hopeless and useless and like if he had to pass one more shredded corpse he was going to kill every single one of these demon assholes.
"Spit it out, Sam," Dean demanded, impatient and seriously unhappy by how not nearby Cas had been banished.
"I was thinking," Sam began.
"I got that, yeah."
Sam shot Dean a foul look. "I was thinking we walked a long way with Cas after he killed that first angel, and we ended up back where we started. But it wasn't where we started."
Dean looked around, at the collapsed buildings, at the messed-up sidewalk, at the distant, familiar landmarks that never got any closer. Even when the road had been a forest of thick undergrowth the fires still burned and the ruin of the landscape beyond the immediate area remained unchanged. Different, but the same.
"You think we'll end up back there."
"The body of that other angel was still in the alleyway before," Sam reminded Dean.
"So that's where he'll be."
"Nearby." Sam huffed a laugh and shrugged. "He wasn't lying."
Dean was going to kick Cas's angelic ass. "He'd better be there."
It was just a theory, but it was a lot like the first hope Dean had felt since Sam had banished Cas. Something, finally, that might even be right.
***
What was probably night had fallen by the time Sam and Dean found the alleyway. The world had turned dark and dangerous, full of scheming red eyes that watched them pass and screams and cries that came from nowhere. Dean had lost count of how many demons they'd fought off. All his instincts told Dean to kill as many of the sons of bitches as he could get his hands on, but there were too many, and he and Sam had something more important to do so they kept a low profile, picking their way around the edges of the road.
Inside the shells of buildings demons gathered in groups, pressed close together. Maybe they felt the cold after all.
It was still snowing, heavy and quiet. There were no streetlights, but the fires cast a creepy orange glow over the town enough that Dean could see by. The minimal light was useful when they were jumped by over-confident demons who bit and spat at them like they were mad with rage. They were easy enough to kill, but Dean was getting tired, and he was hungry and thirsty and his muscles were cramped and aching in the frigid air. From the way Sam's pace slowed Dean knew his brother was feeling it too.
They searched and searched and Dean worried that he'd never be able to recognise the alleyway they were looking for. All the side streets looked the same, ground white with snow and some still bordered with spindly branches creeping up the sides of walls. Sometimes there were demons. Sometimes there were corpses. None of the streets looked like they went anywhere, ending in dark, uninviting shadows. There was no way they could check them all, so Dean tried to look for anything familiar, except pretty much everything was. All the same -ruins and snow and crazed demons and blood- and no sign of Cas.
No way Dean was going to leave Cas here, in this. No way was he leaving Cas anywhere else ever again. Dean knew he shouldn't be thinking about it, he knew that it hadn't been him, not really. But when he remembered the warmth and the welcome and the hardness of Cas's body, it helped, just a little, to keep going. It helped him not give up and lie down in the street and curl up and wait for some demon to tear his lungs out. It helped to keep Dean warm against the ice cold water on his face and in his hair and sliding down his back, making Dean shiver. It helped him concentrate when all Dean wanted was to sleep, or even just to rest. To stop walking for five freaking minutes. He was going to have the worst fucking blisters ever and Dean didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that his feet were so frozen he couldn't feel them anymore.
He remembered every touch and sigh, and Dean wondered if Cas did too. He wondered what Cas thought of it. Human sex. Human lust. Dean.
And then Sam stopped.
"That," he said, pointing at some burned out shop front across the street. "I recognise that."
Dean thought it looked like everything else; used and destroyed, but Sam looked excited in the firelight.
"You're sure?" Dean asked, not wanting to get his hopes up, except where it was too late, and God, fuck, he needed Cas to be there.
Sam nodded, "Yeah," and moved cautiously towards the next break in the buildings, where the alley would be.
A group of maybe eight demons sat hunched around a fire near the opening, and for the first time in that fucked up world, Dean was glad for the dark. Unless, Dean considered, the demons could see just as well in the dark as they could in the light, or better. Then it was all kind of pointless. But whatever, the darkness at least made Dean feel less exposed.
The demons were noisy, jeering and hissing in a way that wasn't even vaguely human. It seemed like the further they went, the more twisted and broken and animal the creatures became. Here they were chewing on something, and Dean didn't want to know what.
They kept their backs close to what was left of the building at the turn, and when they came to the corner Sam arched his neck around it, looking into the side street. It drove Dean crazy that he couldn't see, but he didn't dare move away, around Sam, to see. They were on the edge of the firelight as it was, the demons preoccupied with their meal and each other. That could easily change.
After a moment, Sam flattened himself back against the wall beside Dean, and Dean held his breath, wanting to hear and not wanting to hear when he whispered, "He's there," and Dean really didn't know how the fuck to feel about that. Sam was tense beside him. Something was wrong.
"He wasn't moving," Sam said tightly, then quickly added. "I couldn't see clearly."
Cas was not dead. Cas was not fucking dead.
"Come on," Sam urged, and pulled at Dean's elbow, urging him to keep low as they edged their way around the corner of the wall.
It took all Dean's self-control to go slowly, to not try and shove Sam out of the way so he could see for himself. And when he was finally in a position to get a look at Cas he really wished he hadn't.
Cas lay motionless, pale as the snow he was half-buried under, his back leaning against the wall on the other side of the alleyway. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his hands fell limp at his sides. Around him there were no wings burnt into the wall or the street, and Dean clung to that. There was no death here, Cas had said, and Dean was going to hope that applied to idiot angels as well.
Sam shot Dean a worried look before pushing himself away from the wall and sprinting the short distance across the alleyway to Cas's side. It was easy to look away from Cas, to not have to see him lying as still as the dead. Instead, Dean concentrated his attention on the demons, making sure they didn't notice Sam's movements. Dean could see from where he crouched against the alley wall that they were preoccupied with some kind of game. Whatever it was it had the demons squealing and goading and Dean wished there was something more than just shadows between them.
He kept his eyes on the demon group when he crossed to the alley to join Sam, crouching down on the other side of Cas. Sam had his fingers against Cas's throat and Dean felt a cold empty calm that was worse than anger. It was cruel, deliberate rage, slow burning and just waiting for some outlet. It hadn't even been fucking demons who had done this. It had been angels, Cas's own brothers, and Dean swore if Cas wasn't okay he was going to find a way to kill every last one of the assholes.
Then Sam's shoulders sagged in what looked like relief. "He's alive. Shit. He's alive." Sam spoke under his breath, more to himself than to Dean, but it was enough confirmation for Dean to lean his shoulder against the wall and just breathe. He could look down. He could look down and know that Cas was still there.
"Cas," Sam was saying, brushing snow off of Cas's shoulders and arms. Off of the thin shirt he was wearing. Dean's shirt. "Wake up."
With Sam's back to the demons, Dean didn't want to look away from the crowd for long, but he had to be sure. He had to see for himself that for once, just for once, someone that Dean maybe kind of liked hadn't gone and died on him.
And when Dean found Cas's calm, unflinching gaze watching him, Dean wanted to kiss the angel bastard right then and there, in an alleyway in fuck-knew-where with his brother watching and a pack of flesh-eating demons ten feet away and Dean just didn't care.
Cas looked like crap. If it wasn't for the way Dean could feel Cas shivering against him, or his half-opened eyes, there really would be no way to tell he was still alive.
His voice was so quiet, Dean almost didn't hear when Cas greeted them, "Hello, Dean. Sam."
Dean would've liked to call him an asshole and a fucking bastard, but Cas looked bad enough that Dean thought he should cut him a little slack. Also, demons.
"Hey Cas." Sam gave Cas a smile, pulling off his jacket. "Keep an eye on the demons," he told Dean in a low voice.
No matter how much Dean might want to keep right on staring at Cas for fucking ever, they still needed to get out of there and preferably in one piece. So Dean nodded and sat up straight, looking past his brother and Cas towards the gathered group and their fire. If they'd noticed anything happening in the alley they weren't showing it. They were loud, some kind of argument having broken out, and Dean was damn glad for it.
Out the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam trying to wrap Cas up in his coat. Cas's movements were stiff and uncoordinated, but he looked kind of amused when Sam zipped the coat right up to his neck and pulled the cuffs of the arms down over his hands. Cas was swamped by Sam's jacket and Dean had to admit, it looked pretty ridiculous.
"We need to get moving," Sam was telling Cas. There was only so long they could stay hidden, and if he and Sam had to carry Cas, it was going to be really damned difficult to get away without being noticed.
Cas's voice was so quiet when he spoke it made Dean worry that just moving him would be too much. "We can go the other way."
Cas rolled his head to his left, away from the demons. Dean didn't dare look, but he couldn't remember seeing anything other than darkness at the far end of the alleyway.
"You sure?" Sam asked, looking dubious.
They'd been travelling along the same road for so long now it seemed wrong to move away from it, like if they veered off course they'd be heading into even more chaos, never to find their way back. Off of the road they'd heard a lot of disturbing shit. Fires raged there, and despite the rain and the snow and the passing hours they never died down.
"I am sure," Castiel insisted. "I know this way."
It sounded like the kind surety you get when you'd been somewhere before. There wasn't time to demand an explanation though, and Sam had already pulled Cas's arm around his shoulder and was levering them both to standing.
Dean moved carefully, quietly, raising his handgun and keeping it trained on the demons.
Cas stumbled, his legs probably not strong enough to hold him up after sitting for so long in the cold. It had to hurt but he didn't make a sound. Sam kept a tight hold, pulling him up with one arm around his waist, and managed to get Cas shuffling down the alley, feet dragging through the untouched snow.
Dean moved out of the way towards the centre of the street, letting them pass before following after them. He walked backwards slowly, placing his feet carefully to avoid tripping.
They passed the body of the angel Cas had interrogated all those hours ago, mostly buried under snow. Dean could still make out the black wings staining the wall and sprawled across the ground.
The further from the demons they moved, the darker it became, turning to an unnatural pitch-blackness. There wasn't even firelight here. It was freaky how Dean could see the alley in front of him, but nothing around him, like he was outside the world looking in. Like where he was standing nothing existed. He couldn't see the walls that should have been on either side of them, and the ground beneath him was an unbroken slick, black surface. There was no snow here, but it was even colder. The demons' shouts and cries were muffled, and Dean was starting to think that this was a mistake. That Cas had been wrong.
Then he felt a hand on his elbow, and heard Cas say, still quiet but clear and unconcerned, "Stay close."
Really not going to be an issue, Dean thought. No way was he letting Cas and Sam go anywhere without him in this absolute emptiness. He felt like if he even looked away they'd disappear and he'd be left alone without a clue where he was going, lost forever in nothing.
Cas said, "They won't see us here." He was pulling Dean closer, tugging on his sleeve like he wanted Dean to face away from the demons and into the darkness.
"This is fucked up," Dean murmured. He half-turned away, not quite able to bring himself to turn his back on the demons, but he pocketed his handgun in favour of slipping an arm around Cas's back, helping Sam keep him up. Cas was still damn heavy.
In this place, he could see Sam and he could see Cas, but it was like nothing else around them even existed.
"Which way?" Sam sounded freaked out, and he shot Dean a worried look.
Cas steered them to their left, and he at least, seemed sure.
"This way," he told them. "We can rest near here."
"In this?" Not that Dean minded getting away from the endless snow and blood and violence and demons and unchanging backdrop, but this emptiness was almost worse.
"In this," Cas affirmed. He sounded stronger, at least, and he was walking better, no longer falling over his own feet every other step. He was still shivering though, and his skin had taken on an unhealthy ice-blue tinge again. "It is safer here than anywhere else."
"Sounds like you've been here before," Sam said, echoing Dean's suspicions.
There was a long pause before Cas replied, "Yes. I have."
"Right." Didn't look like Sam wanted to push any more than Dean did. He had a feeling neither of them actually wanted to know where they were anymore.
Instead, Sam commented, "You stayed in that alleyway all that time, and those demons didn't notice you were there."
Cas pulled himself up straighter between Sam and Dean. "I, as you say, played dead."
"Yeah," Dean said unhappily. "You had us fooled too."
"Why'd you stay there?" Sam shook his head, sounding about as pleased with Cas's corpse-act as Dean felt. "You were freezing to death, Cas."
"I knew you would come eventually," Cas said. "It would have been very difficult to find each other otherwise."
It was logic Dean couldn't really argue with.
For what felt like a long time they walked with Cas between them in silence until Cas lightly gripped Dean's shoulder where he was hanging onto him. "We should stop here for a while," he said.
There was nothing around them, or above them, or under them. Not even stars. It was just an all-enveloping darkness just beyond his perception that made Dean feel trapped. Suffocated. There was no way he was ever going to be able to rest in this.
Cas was sagging though, like he'd run out of energy. "It's safe, Dean," Cas assured him. "Or at least, more so than any other place we'll find. You both must also rest."
Which was more true than Dean wanted to admit. It wasn't like either he or Sam were firing on all thrusters either.
Sam was already lowering Cas to the ground that wasn't there, leaning him against a wall that Dean couldn't see.
"You're okay with this?" Dean asked Sam, incredulous.
Sam shrugged and didn't look up at Dean. "We need sleep. Better here than with demons trying to murder us every time we stop."
"How'd you know there aren't any of the evil fuckers in here?"
Cas looked Dean in the eyes and held his gaze and Christ but Dean had missed that. "There aren't."
Dean stared right back at Cas. There was no reason for him to lie, and when it came down to it, this was about trust. He'd have to believe that Cas wouldn't fuck with them. Not here. Not about this. And Dean did. He really did. He trusted his life with Cas. He trusted Sam's life with Cas.
No demons then.
It was still freaking cold though. The air was completely still, tasted and smelled stale, but it was dry. Without the distraction of movement Dean was beginning to feel exactly how uncomfortable his sopping shoes and the bottoms of his jeans were. How his muscles ached and the skin on his face felt pulled tight and sore.
"I dunno about you, but I'm stopping," Sam announced, and slid gratefully down to the not-ground next to Cas.
"You should have your jacket back," Cas said. He looked wistful. "I wish I had my coat."
Sam huffed a laugh. "Sorry we left it behind. Keep the jacket. You need it more than me." He looked up at Dean. "Sit down, you idiot."
It wouldn't hurt, he guessed, and Cas definitely needed it, shivering so fiercely in Sam's jacket that Dean could see the movement from where he was standing, his teeth chattering. There were purple and blue marks on his face, ugly bruises that Dean couldn't remember seeing before.
Sam had already closed his eyes, leaning his head back against some invisible structure. Dean guessed he should keep watch while they rested regardless of Cas's assurances. No one was infallible.
He lowered himself carefully, stiffly, to sit on the other side of Cas, feeling his muscles cramp and burn. If nothing else, he could warm Cas up a little like they had before-except with clothes this time- so Dean shifted himself close and stretched an arm around Cas's shoulders.
No one was ever going to get Dean to admit how awesome it felt when Cas leaned in to Dean's side. Cas was just looking for warmth, Dean told himself, nothing else.
"Where'd you get those," Dean asked, lifting his hand to hover close to Cas's cheek, not wanting to hurt him.
"The angels," Cas replied.
"It's been hours," Dean said. "You're not healing at all."
Castiel's silence was answer enough to that.
"I'm gonna sleep." Sam spoke awkwardly into the silence, opening his eyes and giving Dean a significant look over the top of Cas's head that Dean took to mean, Leave him the hell alone, you asshole.
His brother shuffled closer, and Dean tightened his hold on Cas, keeping his mouth shut.
<< 6. | 8. >>
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
7.
They ran. What else could they do?
They ran the way Cas had told them to go before the angels had come, even though they'd already been that way. It should have surprised Dean that when they turned the corner out of the alleyway the street looked different, but it didn't. There were still fires, and trashed buildings and abandoned cars, but now thick, thorny bushes grew from cracks in the broken up road. They encroached into the ruined buildings, creeping up walls and what had once been traffic signs. The bushes bore no leaves, just spindly branches that looked dead but Dean could tell were alive. He'd swear they were moving when he looked away.
It made it worse that he and Sam had to touch the things, picking their way through the undergrowth that sprawled across the street, the sharp thorns scratching and biting at their bare skin. They couldn't move fast enough with this crap slowing them down. They'd lost Cas, just when they'd fucking got him back, and they didn't have a damn clue where he was.
"Not far," Dean fumed. "Not fucking far, he said."
"He couldn't know." Sam looked around anxiously. "It's all changed. The whole layout of this town. None of it looks the same."
"I noticed," Dean shot back.
All the side streets were filled with crackling, hissing fires and thick, sharp bushes. There was nowhere Cas could even be.
The sounds of other people had been distant before; echoes of yelling and screaming and wailing that reminded Dean of a place and time he'd spent the past two years trying to forget. The noise was getting closer, evidence that somewhere there were other living people in the town that wasn't a town anymore. And there was the uncomfortable, prickling feeling down Dean's back that they were being watched. He'd seen weirder things than to dismiss the possibility that it was the plants around them causing the feeling, sentient and out for blood, but Dean's instincts told him it was humans watching.
Walking beside him, Sam was tense too, the Colt in his hands half-raised. He'd sensed it too, but they hadn't seen a single other soul. In this thick mess of undergrowth, Dean couldn't imagine where the hell anyone could have been hiding.
Above them, the clouds hung thick and dark, unnaturally still like splotches of colour in a photo, a permanent feature of the place. At least the rain had mostly stopped.
Dean's jacket and jeans were still damp, clingy and uncomfortable in the bitter cold air. He was even more convinced now that the temperature was dropping with every step he took. Frost was beginning to form on the tips of bushes, spidery silver threads of ice decorating cracked glass windows and burned out cars. More and more Dean found himself slipping on frozen puddles. As they walked, Sam shifted restlessly, trying to keep himself warm and alert.
Cas hadn't even been wearing a jacket.
It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, and Dean had no way to know how long they'd been looking. His watch was long gone, stopped when he'd dived into that damn river to find Cas the first time around. At least then they'd had a direction, an idea of where to start looking. Now, here, they had nothing.
"Maybe we should turn back," Dean suggested finally, frustrated. "We might've missed something."
Behind them, Dean could hear what sounded like heavy boots running across broken ground. Dean's head whipped around but there was nothing there. Sam had stopped walking, turning in a slow circle, shotgun up. He shook his head, nothing there, but Dean was sure now they were being followed.
Half his attention on their surroundings and half on Dean, Sam began waking again. "There was nowhere he could've been back there, Dean."
Despite what Sam said, they both knew they couldn't be sure that they hadn't gone right past Cas and Dean hated it. They were being surrounded, Dean could feel it, and a growing smell of sulphur that could only have been demons. Dean wanted nothing more than to beat some information out of one of the fuckers. If he found the asshole that had tried drowning Cas he was going to rip it to fucking pieces and Dean was going to damn well enjoy it. If Dean found out anyone had hurt Cas again he was going to make sure the bastards responsible died long and painful deaths. Dean couldn't even bring himself to care how sick that was. He didn't care how hard he'd tried to not be that guy again. To not be someone who craved blood and pain. They were demons and it was Cas and he just didn't fucking care.
There was movement stirring all around them in the mess of thorns and bushes that walled them in and Dean couldn't decide if it was the plants shifting or demons moving them, trying to freak them out. It didn't help that the further they walked, the higher the undergrowth grew until some of the bushes became trees, tall and gangly with branches that seemed to be stretching out towards them. The branches were slick with something thick and red.
Movement turned to whispers turned to hissing, like laughter, gurgling, and muffled screams coming from the thick forest of branches. Dean just couldn't see any of it.
"Cas could be in there," Dean realised. "Cas could be in there."
"There's nothing-" Sam began, but Dean didn't want to hear it, cutting him off, "How the hell are we gonna find him?"
What were the chances of finding anything in that?
"We'll get him," Sam assured Dean, but he didn't sound exactly convinced either. Unsettled was a better word, eyeing up the creepy plant life on either side of them with wide, worried eyes. "Maybe he can find us."
Yeah, because Cas was gonna be in good enough shape to come looking for them. There was hope though, because Cas had sent them this way and he seemed to know his way around, and that made Dean think. Made Dean wonder. How did Cas know? What kind of a place was this, because it sure as hell wasn't like anywhere on Earth Dean'd ever been? How could they even get out without Cas? Dean had visions of him and Sam wandering forever, lost in this crazy, fucked-up town full of creepy-ass dead plants and buildings so ruined it was impossible to tell whether they'd been shops or houses or whatever before. There was fire still, patches of burning bushes and cars and greater fires in the distance -tall infernos like whole buildings caught alight- pouring out thick black smoke into the dull sky.
Then they came across the first corpse.
It was rotted and torn and must have been there a long while, strung up from one of the trees.
"You think it's a warning?" Sam asked, giving the tree a wide berth. The sweet, putrid smell of death overpowered the stench of ash and the sulphur.
"I think we need to look harder." If there was one thing in his life that Dean never wanted to see, it was Cas hung up like that. It wasn't going to happen, he told himself. Cas could handle himself. They'd find Cas one way or another.
Sam got it because he nodded agreement and moved on quickly.
The next body they came to looked more recently deceased, empty eyes staring out at them sightlessly.
They hurried past it, following the road. Dean was beginning to get the impression they would never actually find a way off it; there were so few turns and they never seemed to get any closer to the fires and the crumbled apartment blocks and anything else in the distance. That landscape beyond the immediate area hadn't changed for as long as they'd been walking this street. It was freaky and it was wrong, but they had no other direction to take but back the way they'd come.
Sam said, "You know what's weird?"
"This whole thing is weird, Sam," Dean retorted. More sounds, like fighting or arguing, came from somewhere to his left and Dean hefted his knife but kept moving forward.
"No," Sam said. "Well, yeah. But I mean, something else. I haven't seen a single animal."
"Animals, Sam?" Dean repeated disbelievingly.
Sam frowned in irritation. "None. Not even a bird or, I don't know, an insect. It's not right."
"Nothing about this place is right," Dean pointed out. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, conceding the point, but Dean could tell when his brother had gotten some idea in his head and was working it out.
"What is it?" Dean asked, because if Sam had some clue what Cas and all his cryptic shit meant then it might help work out how to find him and get out of this cursed town, or whatever it was.
Sam gave Dean a long, considering look before he began, "Dean, I'm not sure-"
There was no warning and nothing to explain why at that second maybe a dozen creatures that looked like humans but moved like nothing Dean had ever seen before broke out from the walls of growth around them. Dean didn't know how they'd been able to move through the thick, thorny branches without a scratch on them, but one minute they weren't there and the next there was a burly guy in camo gear clawing at Sam's throat.
Dean dropped his duffel to the ground and drew out the handgun he'd shoved down the back of his trousers, shooting the guy dead centre in the forehead. He went down, and Dean was thankful his bullets actually had effect. Whatever they were, they weren't human.
A woman wearing a short dress and no shoes and red stains splashed across her face ran at Dean with a wicked looking knife and Dean fought her off with a swift kick. She recovered quickly and charged again and this time Dean pulled out his own knife and blocked her with one arm while stabbing down into her chest with the other. He saw surprised, pitch-black eyes blinking back at him. Not exactly a shocker they were demons, but they didn't move like humans- more animal and wild than anything- and the bullets of a regular gun had affected one. Not that Dean was complaining. The normal rules didn't seem to apply in whatever place this was, and Dean took that as encouragement, gunning down two more demons who made a grab for him, and another who was going for Sam.
Dean heard Sam's shotgun fire once, and then again, but couldn't turn to see what was going on because there were more of the bastards headed his way, snapping and biting at his hands. They weren't cautious at all, even though they must have seen the others getting easily taken down. He remembered Cas saying there was no death here, and hoped that even if there wasn't, it would last long enough for him and Sam to get away.
It was damn hard to fire straight when you had demons coming at you from all sides, and Dean took a hard knock to his back where a brute of a man swung a baseball bat at Dean from behind, taking him by surprise. Another, carrying what looked disturbingly like a hatchet, managed to nick Dean's leg and Dean dispatched them both with bullets to their brains. It was deeply satisfying and Dean almost hoped for more. More to kill. More to take out the frustration and the wrongness and the anger on.
Dean's first priority though was to check that Sam was okay, but he could only hear the sounds of fighting, the shotgun again, and then he had to concentrate on a couple of demons trying to wrestle the knife right out of his hands. They weren't as strong as regular demons and Dean managed to turn the knife on one, using all his weight to drive the blade into the fucker's neck. The other he took out with a knee to the gut and a shot to the chest. Free for a few seconds from attack, Dean took the chance to breathe, trying to catch his breath. There were definitely less of them now, not like the police station, where the demons had been fucking endless. Their numbers were dwindling, and Dean was pretty sure the demons knew it too because their attacks weren't quite so confident as they had been. One creature in the shape of a woman took to throwing large rocks at Dean, one of them managing to knock Dean's shoulder so hard he was thrown back, hard, against the frozen ground. He felt busted up concrete against his back and had to kick off a crazed demon with wild hair and little in the way of clothing before being able to fire. The bitch fell where she stood, but another demon rushed Dean from the side, kicking the gun away before punching him full in the face.
The blow was powerful, knocking the sense right out of Dean and for a long minute he couldn't concentrate, couldn't see straight. It was hard to get his head to move to find out where his opponent had gone and what he was doing. He couldn't get his legs to kick out, or his arms to find the ground to try pushing himself upright or away, and Dean came to the conclusion that he was helpless and he was going to fucking die.
The killing blow never came though, instead there was Sam at his side, hauling Dean up by the elbow, saying, "Come on Dean," and, "We're getting out of here." Where exactly Sam thought they could go Dean had no idea.
It was so damn freezing. Dean's muscles were heavy and aching with it, and when Dean could finally get his head back in the game, when he could see where they were, it was snowing.
"Wonderful."
"It's better than rain," Sam said. He was still mostly carrying Dean, as well as his duffel -Dean's lost somewhere back on the road- but he was moving swiftly past trees and those ugly, evil-looking bushes. There were bodies on the ground, half-covered by snow. Nothing like a little horror as an incentive to keep going. To go faster.
The sounds of crying and anger and laughter were louder now, all around them, the forest receding the further they walked to reveal a street wider than it'd been before, still lined with the wreckage of buildings, but now there were people. More and more people. Some were gathered in groups on street corners, or huddled alone against the frames of buildings, or stripping bark from the trunks of the creepy-ass trees and sucking at the sap, or whatever, and Dean really didn't want to know. Most of them were focused on fighting or arguing or killing and ripping at each other. It was absolute anarchy.
Sam steered them around the fights, trying to keep to the shadows, and it was really damn good to finally have wall at their backs, even if it was half blown away and crumbling and slimy to the touch.
"Jesus Christ," Dean breathed. "Cas-"
"Yeah," Sam said tensely. "I know."
Because if he was here, and he had better fucking be, Dean damn well hoped he hadn't gotten involved in any battles with demons.
They had to be demons. The way they sliced each other up and snarled and the eyes on some of them turned black. And an angel among this crowd could not be any kind of good.
"We've got to find him."
Sam studied the lone creatures they passed, how they hunched up on themselves, murmuring and sneering at anything that came near. "We could... ask? Some of these... But if they don't know Cas is here then I don't wanna tell them."
Dean couldn't fault the logic in that. They'd only make things worse.
"We could try a summoning?" Dean suggested.
Sam didn't look impressed. "I don't know any of those for angels, do you?"
At the word 'angels' a few of the demons nearest them looked around, their eyes narrowing.
"Okay, let's shut up," Dean hissed at Sam, and let Sam lead them away quickly. For the most part the demons were ignoring them, concerned with their own shit but it was damn hard to think when all Dean could hear was agony and skin tearing and bones breaking and it was all too sickeningly familiar. Outnumbered by all these demons and no escape and it was like Dean's worst nightmare all over again.
They walked in silence, following the widening street because that's what Cas had said to do. There were clear paths off the road now, but it felt dangerous, wrong to change directions.
The snow was falling more heavily here and Dean zipped up his jacket, wishing he could rub his hands together. After the fight, Sam had retrieved Dean's gun and knife and there was no way Dean was letting go of his weapons again. Not with so many demons around them. He kept the handgun loose in his right hand, and the knife close in his pocket and remembered that being cold was way better than being dead.
In places the snow lay heavy on the ground, untouched, and in others it was soaked red or turned to a brown slush where feet had trampled through it. The snow didn't seem to affect the demons at all, unconcerned with how little or how much clothing they were wearing, or with how the snow got in their eyes or piled up around them and Dean hated them for it all.
Beside him, Sam was thinking again. Dean could tell by the way he furrowed his brow and his eyes stopped tracking the movements of the creatures they passed. Dean hoped to God he had something, because he was freezing to death and starting to feel hopeless and useless and like if he had to pass one more shredded corpse he was going to kill every single one of these demon assholes.
"Spit it out, Sam," Dean demanded, impatient and seriously unhappy by how not nearby Cas had been banished.
"I was thinking," Sam began.
"I got that, yeah."
Sam shot Dean a foul look. "I was thinking we walked a long way with Cas after he killed that first angel, and we ended up back where we started. But it wasn't where we started."
Dean looked around, at the collapsed buildings, at the messed-up sidewalk, at the distant, familiar landmarks that never got any closer. Even when the road had been a forest of thick undergrowth the fires still burned and the ruin of the landscape beyond the immediate area remained unchanged. Different, but the same.
"You think we'll end up back there."
"The body of that other angel was still in the alleyway before," Sam reminded Dean.
"So that's where he'll be."
"Nearby." Sam huffed a laugh and shrugged. "He wasn't lying."
Dean was going to kick Cas's angelic ass. "He'd better be there."
It was just a theory, but it was a lot like the first hope Dean had felt since Sam had banished Cas. Something, finally, that might even be right.
***
What was probably night had fallen by the time Sam and Dean found the alleyway. The world had turned dark and dangerous, full of scheming red eyes that watched them pass and screams and cries that came from nowhere. Dean had lost count of how many demons they'd fought off. All his instincts told Dean to kill as many of the sons of bitches as he could get his hands on, but there were too many, and he and Sam had something more important to do so they kept a low profile, picking their way around the edges of the road.
Inside the shells of buildings demons gathered in groups, pressed close together. Maybe they felt the cold after all.
It was still snowing, heavy and quiet. There were no streetlights, but the fires cast a creepy orange glow over the town enough that Dean could see by. The minimal light was useful when they were jumped by over-confident demons who bit and spat at them like they were mad with rage. They were easy enough to kill, but Dean was getting tired, and he was hungry and thirsty and his muscles were cramped and aching in the frigid air. From the way Sam's pace slowed Dean knew his brother was feeling it too.
They searched and searched and Dean worried that he'd never be able to recognise the alleyway they were looking for. All the side streets looked the same, ground white with snow and some still bordered with spindly branches creeping up the sides of walls. Sometimes there were demons. Sometimes there were corpses. None of the streets looked like they went anywhere, ending in dark, uninviting shadows. There was no way they could check them all, so Dean tried to look for anything familiar, except pretty much everything was. All the same -ruins and snow and crazed demons and blood- and no sign of Cas.
No way Dean was going to leave Cas here, in this. No way was he leaving Cas anywhere else ever again. Dean knew he shouldn't be thinking about it, he knew that it hadn't been him, not really. But when he remembered the warmth and the welcome and the hardness of Cas's body, it helped, just a little, to keep going. It helped him not give up and lie down in the street and curl up and wait for some demon to tear his lungs out. It helped to keep Dean warm against the ice cold water on his face and in his hair and sliding down his back, making Dean shiver. It helped him concentrate when all Dean wanted was to sleep, or even just to rest. To stop walking for five freaking minutes. He was going to have the worst fucking blisters ever and Dean didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that his feet were so frozen he couldn't feel them anymore.
He remembered every touch and sigh, and Dean wondered if Cas did too. He wondered what Cas thought of it. Human sex. Human lust. Dean.
And then Sam stopped.
"That," he said, pointing at some burned out shop front across the street. "I recognise that."
Dean thought it looked like everything else; used and destroyed, but Sam looked excited in the firelight.
"You're sure?" Dean asked, not wanting to get his hopes up, except where it was too late, and God, fuck, he needed Cas to be there.
Sam nodded, "Yeah," and moved cautiously towards the next break in the buildings, where the alley would be.
A group of maybe eight demons sat hunched around a fire near the opening, and for the first time in that fucked up world, Dean was glad for the dark. Unless, Dean considered, the demons could see just as well in the dark as they could in the light, or better. Then it was all kind of pointless. But whatever, the darkness at least made Dean feel less exposed.
The demons were noisy, jeering and hissing in a way that wasn't even vaguely human. It seemed like the further they went, the more twisted and broken and animal the creatures became. Here they were chewing on something, and Dean didn't want to know what.
They kept their backs close to what was left of the building at the turn, and when they came to the corner Sam arched his neck around it, looking into the side street. It drove Dean crazy that he couldn't see, but he didn't dare move away, around Sam, to see. They were on the edge of the firelight as it was, the demons preoccupied with their meal and each other. That could easily change.
After a moment, Sam flattened himself back against the wall beside Dean, and Dean held his breath, wanting to hear and not wanting to hear when he whispered, "He's there," and Dean really didn't know how the fuck to feel about that. Sam was tense beside him. Something was wrong.
"He wasn't moving," Sam said tightly, then quickly added. "I couldn't see clearly."
Cas was not dead. Cas was not fucking dead.
"Come on," Sam urged, and pulled at Dean's elbow, urging him to keep low as they edged their way around the corner of the wall.
It took all Dean's self-control to go slowly, to not try and shove Sam out of the way so he could see for himself. And when he was finally in a position to get a look at Cas he really wished he hadn't.
Cas lay motionless, pale as the snow he was half-buried under, his back leaning against the wall on the other side of the alleyway. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his hands fell limp at his sides. Around him there were no wings burnt into the wall or the street, and Dean clung to that. There was no death here, Cas had said, and Dean was going to hope that applied to idiot angels as well.
Sam shot Dean a worried look before pushing himself away from the wall and sprinting the short distance across the alleyway to Cas's side. It was easy to look away from Cas, to not have to see him lying as still as the dead. Instead, Dean concentrated his attention on the demons, making sure they didn't notice Sam's movements. Dean could see from where he crouched against the alley wall that they were preoccupied with some kind of game. Whatever it was it had the demons squealing and goading and Dean wished there was something more than just shadows between them.
He kept his eyes on the demon group when he crossed to the alley to join Sam, crouching down on the other side of Cas. Sam had his fingers against Cas's throat and Dean felt a cold empty calm that was worse than anger. It was cruel, deliberate rage, slow burning and just waiting for some outlet. It hadn't even been fucking demons who had done this. It had been angels, Cas's own brothers, and Dean swore if Cas wasn't okay he was going to find a way to kill every last one of the assholes.
Then Sam's shoulders sagged in what looked like relief. "He's alive. Shit. He's alive." Sam spoke under his breath, more to himself than to Dean, but it was enough confirmation for Dean to lean his shoulder against the wall and just breathe. He could look down. He could look down and know that Cas was still there.
"Cas," Sam was saying, brushing snow off of Cas's shoulders and arms. Off of the thin shirt he was wearing. Dean's shirt. "Wake up."
With Sam's back to the demons, Dean didn't want to look away from the crowd for long, but he had to be sure. He had to see for himself that for once, just for once, someone that Dean maybe kind of liked hadn't gone and died on him.
And when Dean found Cas's calm, unflinching gaze watching him, Dean wanted to kiss the angel bastard right then and there, in an alleyway in fuck-knew-where with his brother watching and a pack of flesh-eating demons ten feet away and Dean just didn't care.
Cas looked like crap. If it wasn't for the way Dean could feel Cas shivering against him, or his half-opened eyes, there really would be no way to tell he was still alive.
His voice was so quiet, Dean almost didn't hear when Cas greeted them, "Hello, Dean. Sam."
Dean would've liked to call him an asshole and a fucking bastard, but Cas looked bad enough that Dean thought he should cut him a little slack. Also, demons.
"Hey Cas." Sam gave Cas a smile, pulling off his jacket. "Keep an eye on the demons," he told Dean in a low voice.
No matter how much Dean might want to keep right on staring at Cas for fucking ever, they still needed to get out of there and preferably in one piece. So Dean nodded and sat up straight, looking past his brother and Cas towards the gathered group and their fire. If they'd noticed anything happening in the alley they weren't showing it. They were loud, some kind of argument having broken out, and Dean was damn glad for it.
Out the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam trying to wrap Cas up in his coat. Cas's movements were stiff and uncoordinated, but he looked kind of amused when Sam zipped the coat right up to his neck and pulled the cuffs of the arms down over his hands. Cas was swamped by Sam's jacket and Dean had to admit, it looked pretty ridiculous.
"We need to get moving," Sam was telling Cas. There was only so long they could stay hidden, and if he and Sam had to carry Cas, it was going to be really damned difficult to get away without being noticed.
Cas's voice was so quiet when he spoke it made Dean worry that just moving him would be too much. "We can go the other way."
Cas rolled his head to his left, away from the demons. Dean didn't dare look, but he couldn't remember seeing anything other than darkness at the far end of the alleyway.
"You sure?" Sam asked, looking dubious.
They'd been travelling along the same road for so long now it seemed wrong to move away from it, like if they veered off course they'd be heading into even more chaos, never to find their way back. Off of the road they'd heard a lot of disturbing shit. Fires raged there, and despite the rain and the snow and the passing hours they never died down.
"I am sure," Castiel insisted. "I know this way."
It sounded like the kind surety you get when you'd been somewhere before. There wasn't time to demand an explanation though, and Sam had already pulled Cas's arm around his shoulder and was levering them both to standing.
Dean moved carefully, quietly, raising his handgun and keeping it trained on the demons.
Cas stumbled, his legs probably not strong enough to hold him up after sitting for so long in the cold. It had to hurt but he didn't make a sound. Sam kept a tight hold, pulling him up with one arm around his waist, and managed to get Cas shuffling down the alley, feet dragging through the untouched snow.
Dean moved out of the way towards the centre of the street, letting them pass before following after them. He walked backwards slowly, placing his feet carefully to avoid tripping.
They passed the body of the angel Cas had interrogated all those hours ago, mostly buried under snow. Dean could still make out the black wings staining the wall and sprawled across the ground.
The further from the demons they moved, the darker it became, turning to an unnatural pitch-blackness. There wasn't even firelight here. It was freaky how Dean could see the alley in front of him, but nothing around him, like he was outside the world looking in. Like where he was standing nothing existed. He couldn't see the walls that should have been on either side of them, and the ground beneath him was an unbroken slick, black surface. There was no snow here, but it was even colder. The demons' shouts and cries were muffled, and Dean was starting to think that this was a mistake. That Cas had been wrong.
Then he felt a hand on his elbow, and heard Cas say, still quiet but clear and unconcerned, "Stay close."
Really not going to be an issue, Dean thought. No way was he letting Cas and Sam go anywhere without him in this absolute emptiness. He felt like if he even looked away they'd disappear and he'd be left alone without a clue where he was going, lost forever in nothing.
Cas said, "They won't see us here." He was pulling Dean closer, tugging on his sleeve like he wanted Dean to face away from the demons and into the darkness.
"This is fucked up," Dean murmured. He half-turned away, not quite able to bring himself to turn his back on the demons, but he pocketed his handgun in favour of slipping an arm around Cas's back, helping Sam keep him up. Cas was still damn heavy.
In this place, he could see Sam and he could see Cas, but it was like nothing else around them even existed.
"Which way?" Sam sounded freaked out, and he shot Dean a worried look.
Cas steered them to their left, and he at least, seemed sure.
"This way," he told them. "We can rest near here."
"In this?" Not that Dean minded getting away from the endless snow and blood and violence and demons and unchanging backdrop, but this emptiness was almost worse.
"In this," Cas affirmed. He sounded stronger, at least, and he was walking better, no longer falling over his own feet every other step. He was still shivering though, and his skin had taken on an unhealthy ice-blue tinge again. "It is safer here than anywhere else."
"Sounds like you've been here before," Sam said, echoing Dean's suspicions.
There was a long pause before Cas replied, "Yes. I have."
"Right." Didn't look like Sam wanted to push any more than Dean did. He had a feeling neither of them actually wanted to know where they were anymore.
Instead, Sam commented, "You stayed in that alleyway all that time, and those demons didn't notice you were there."
Cas pulled himself up straighter between Sam and Dean. "I, as you say, played dead."
"Yeah," Dean said unhappily. "You had us fooled too."
"Why'd you stay there?" Sam shook his head, sounding about as pleased with Cas's corpse-act as Dean felt. "You were freezing to death, Cas."
"I knew you would come eventually," Cas said. "It would have been very difficult to find each other otherwise."
It was logic Dean couldn't really argue with.
For what felt like a long time they walked with Cas between them in silence until Cas lightly gripped Dean's shoulder where he was hanging onto him. "We should stop here for a while," he said.
There was nothing around them, or above them, or under them. Not even stars. It was just an all-enveloping darkness just beyond his perception that made Dean feel trapped. Suffocated. There was no way he was ever going to be able to rest in this.
Cas was sagging though, like he'd run out of energy. "It's safe, Dean," Cas assured him. "Or at least, more so than any other place we'll find. You both must also rest."
Which was more true than Dean wanted to admit. It wasn't like either he or Sam were firing on all thrusters either.
Sam was already lowering Cas to the ground that wasn't there, leaning him against a wall that Dean couldn't see.
"You're okay with this?" Dean asked Sam, incredulous.
Sam shrugged and didn't look up at Dean. "We need sleep. Better here than with demons trying to murder us every time we stop."
"How'd you know there aren't any of the evil fuckers in here?"
Cas looked Dean in the eyes and held his gaze and Christ but Dean had missed that. "There aren't."
Dean stared right back at Cas. There was no reason for him to lie, and when it came down to it, this was about trust. He'd have to believe that Cas wouldn't fuck with them. Not here. Not about this. And Dean did. He really did. He trusted his life with Cas. He trusted Sam's life with Cas.
No demons then.
It was still freaking cold though. The air was completely still, tasted and smelled stale, but it was dry. Without the distraction of movement Dean was beginning to feel exactly how uncomfortable his sopping shoes and the bottoms of his jeans were. How his muscles ached and the skin on his face felt pulled tight and sore.
"I dunno about you, but I'm stopping," Sam announced, and slid gratefully down to the not-ground next to Cas.
"You should have your jacket back," Cas said. He looked wistful. "I wish I had my coat."
Sam huffed a laugh. "Sorry we left it behind. Keep the jacket. You need it more than me." He looked up at Dean. "Sit down, you idiot."
It wouldn't hurt, he guessed, and Cas definitely needed it, shivering so fiercely in Sam's jacket that Dean could see the movement from where he was standing, his teeth chattering. There were purple and blue marks on his face, ugly bruises that Dean couldn't remember seeing before.
Sam had already closed his eyes, leaning his head back against some invisible structure. Dean guessed he should keep watch while they rested regardless of Cas's assurances. No one was infallible.
He lowered himself carefully, stiffly, to sit on the other side of Cas, feeling his muscles cramp and burn. If nothing else, he could warm Cas up a little like they had before-except with clothes this time- so Dean shifted himself close and stretched an arm around Cas's shoulders.
No one was ever going to get Dean to admit how awesome it felt when Cas leaned in to Dean's side. Cas was just looking for warmth, Dean told himself, nothing else.
"Where'd you get those," Dean asked, lifting his hand to hover close to Cas's cheek, not wanting to hurt him.
"The angels," Cas replied.
"It's been hours," Dean said. "You're not healing at all."
Castiel's silence was answer enough to that.
"I'm gonna sleep." Sam spoke awkwardly into the silence, opening his eyes and giving Dean a significant look over the top of Cas's head that Dean took to mean, Leave him the hell alone, you asshole.
His brother shuffled closer, and Dean tightened his hold on Cas, keeping his mouth shut.
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