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hi eldritch they prolly gon fuq

[venatoris]

[ Minutes are hours and hours are days and years and decades. Time stops existing, yet exists in lifespans ahead of him, stretched out on a road before him, endless, in perpetual longevity. Grief is a funny thing, twisting and knotting, psyche spread too thin, like butter over toast. Every step taken is lifetimes, scuffed and bloodied boots crunching over rabble and ruin, the endless hellscape in front of him reminiscent of his soul.

The blade still drips in his hand as he crawls through collapsed archways and smoking ruin, drifting between crumbled home after home. He looks and he looks, but he cannot see.

The head remains, his last triumph; he holds it still, fingers twisted around broken skin, blood staining his hand, crusted over skin, embedded under filthy nails.

He walks, he watches, he calls; over and over and over he calls. ]

Castiel?

;*

[messenger]

[ ironically, despite the fact that castiel is the one who died— he's having a much less stressful time than dean is. it isn't a particularly enjoyable time. probably a little worse than neutral. on every other occasion that he's come back from the dead, he's had his grace fully topped up. not so, this go around. he's got a little mojo, guttering like a candle flame, enough to let him avoid the necessity of breathing when stumbling wearily through heavy patches of incense. but it's not good for much else than that. he's tired, and his feet ache from wandering around the city through shin-deep, dirty water, and he's cold. he rubs his arms and tries not to shiver, careful as he picks his way through the rubble, afraid he might injure himself and be unable to heal it. the thick cover of incense and the smell of ozone in his nose (the scent the incense happens to take for him) is muddling his sense of direction, and he has yet to find his medallion.

if he could find it, he could use it to find dean.

as it is, he has to settle for searching by foot. he has a vague memory of where he lost it, which was in the same place he first transformed, after he fled from dean's side. but after the destruction wrought by the monsters that climbed up out of the earth like hell itself had cracked open, it's difficult to discern the landmarks. ]

[venatoris]

Cas?

[ He keeps calling moving through the city, heading towards their home, the one he knows is in ruins on the ground, their few things buried under rubble that he'll have to claw out with ruined nails and hands.

The daze settles in and he tries not to breathe too deeply, stumbling, clutching the monsters head, his trophy kill. ]

Cas!

[messenger]

[ there's a moment where he's stumbling through the rubble when he thinks he's begun to hear dean's prayers— a not unfamiliar situation for him to be in, circa purgatory. this is too much like that place, with creatures running amok worse than most anything that even hell could produce. although luckily not necessarily more powerful than the worst they've encountered, because he succeeds in sneaking past every one he sees with very small and strategic applications of his power. if only he had his blade—

but after some time it occurs to him, as it grows in volume, that he's wandering in the direction of dean's voice. prayer has no directionality, of course. so it's around then he realizes he's been hearing dean out loud, and that he's gradually picking his way toward him.

he would run, if he could; or yell. but he's too tired, and who knows what creatures are lurking? ]

[venatoris]

[ Dean clearly doesn't give a fuck about monsters; his shouts echo off whatever is left of the buildings and he climbs noisily over rocks and rubble, shouting Cas' name, praying at the same time, loud and thunderous, screaming in his head. ]

Cas! Are you here? Cas!

[ Again and again - if there are any poor locals about, he corners them, snarls, demands where's the angel?! before letting them go when they don't know, and continuing his search. ]

[messenger]

[ castiel, almost entirely by chance, finds the ruins of their home. as much as you could call it that. they'd only lived there for two weeks, although in all truthfulness it's the longest he's lived anywhere that wasn't heaven. dean also isn't taken to settling in one place. so it stands out, of course. he sorts through what rubble he can, but eventually has no choice but to sit and rest. at least now he's climbed up out of the water, and he can crouch and shiver with his arms wrapped around his knees in peace. he thought he might find his coat, but there's no sign of it. he doesn't remember that he ate the thing.

dean's calling grows louder, and he stands. stumbling down, he nearly falls into the submerged street, dirty water splashing up his bare thighs. his clothes were destroyed in the cacophony, and there's nowhere left to procure replacements. ]

Dean—

[ shit. he can hardly raise his voice.

he has to stop. lean against a wall, one of the last two standing of a nearby building, and catch his breath. ]

[venatoris]

[ He hears the splashing more than he hears Cas call his name and he sloshes in that direction, moving as fast as possible, rounding a rubbled corner before he sees Cas standing there, naked as can be, and Dean runs at him, head still in hand, soaked through and freezing but determined to get there. ]

Cas!

[ He's there leaning against the wall and Dean nearly slams into him, wrapping his arms around Cas head and all, dragging him close and holding him tight crushed against his body. ]

[messenger]

[ dean comes upon him so quickly he hardly has time to react. his lips part, maybe to say something— and then dean is crushing him in his arms, the smell of rot wafting up strong from the head dangling from his fingers. castiel wheezes, gripping weakly at dean's sides, and presses his face into dean's throat in a desperate attempt to escape the stench of monster flesh.

he never realized quite what a powerful effect scent can have on the body. ]

[venatoris]

Oh my God, Cas...fuck.

[ He holds him so close, face in Cas' hair, breathing him in, nose buried. He could cry, might already be, clutching Cas close to him. ]

I thought I'd lost you again, I couldn't find you.

[messenger]

Dean...

[ the longer they stand there like this, the more of castiel is weighing down dean's arms. he's a bit dehydrated, and he hasn't eaten, well, since he can remember. his voice comes out slurred when he finally finds the strength to speak, but it's waning. ]

Didn't meant to—

[ to leave. to die. not this time. dean needs to know that. ]

[venatoris]

[ Finally, Dean drops the head he's holding, choosing instead to hold Cas, keep him upright in Dean's arms. ]

I know, I know, Cas. It's okay. I told you, I'm not mad.

[ He isn't sure if Cas remembers, but it's repeated anyway, to solidify. ]

You're here. You're back. That's what's important.

[messenger]

[ at least when dean drops the nasty thing it means it's slightly farther away from his nose. he gives a groan of exhaustion, fingers tightening at his sides before they loosen by necessity. it's strange, how basic need seems to supersede even thought— he can't help but wonder if dean still has some food on him, from what they grabbed before they fled. ]

I'm... weak.

[ he spits the word from his mouth distastefully. but he can't bring himself to pull from dean's grasp. ]

[venatoris]

You'll get stronger.

[ With his hand freed, he can pet Cas' back, hand smoothing over skin before it dawns on him Cas is naked. ]

Here.

[ He leans back long enough to shrug out of his bloody jacket, draping it around Cas' shoulders. ]

[messenger]

[ he swallows, struggling a moment to get his throat to work. strange sensation, to have his own muscles fail him— his throat sore and sour and thick at the same time.

but when dean pulls back and offers his coat he takes it gratefully, pulling it around himself and fastening the front closed with shaky hands. hard to say if that's low blood sugar or an effect of the chill. ]

Thank you. We— we need to find my angel blade. And the medallion. I don't think they're replaceable.

[venatoris]

[ They need to find Cas some pants, too, but he doesn't mention it. There are more important things - like Cas' blade and his medallion, and getting him something to eat. ]

Okay. Think they're still in the house? What's left of it, anyway.

[messenger]

No. I had them with me when I... left.

[ he has a vague memory of the marketplace, and gestures in the general direction that it lies in. he had been visiting it a lot, before. maybe that's why his mind attached to it. ]

[venatoris]

[ ....great. ]

Okay. -- well. Let's start at the house, get what's left of our crap. You can borrow some jeans til we can find you whatever new duds you want, and we'll get you hydrated.

[ He lets go of Cas to run a hand through his hair, glancing around. ]

Then we can go angel blade hunting. Sound good?

[messenger]

They're gonna be wet.

[ buried underneath flooded rubble. he wrinkles his nose at the idea, but if dean says he should wear them, then he'll wear them. the whole experience is uncomfortable to him.

but when it comes to the search, he lets dean lead the fore. every so often dean will catch him standing with his eyelids drifting ever lower, swaying in place before he abruptly wakes again, peaky yet flushed in the face. ]

[venatoris]

Touché. Forget wet denim.

[ Dean is wearing some, and it sucks. ]

He leads an unsteady Cas to the rubble of their little home, and he feels a little twinge of sorrow to see it in this state. Two weeks in and he’d started to think of it as home. ]

Have a seat. I’ll find our shit.

[messenger]

[ it wasn't the nicest place, but it was theirs for a little while. cas teeters, and then perches delicately on a bit of rubbing sticking up out of the water. he hates to sit by while dean does the work, but it's just going to be inconvenient if he passes out face-down in the water.

cas rubs his hands over his face. when he drops them, his eyes follow dean the same way they did when he had several hundred more of them. ]

[venatoris]

[ okay creep.

It takes him longer than he’d like, but he eventually recovers their crap, soaking wet duffle stuffed full of their things, and he sloshes over to Cas and sets it down on the rock beside him. ]

Are we missing anything?

[messenger]

[ cas casually picks through the bag when dean sets it down. it's one of those situations where his tendency to only have one outfit is especially inconvenient. if he'd gotten more clothes, he might be able to change into something of his own and give dean his jacket back.

although his jacket is dry, and none of the clothes in the bag are. he doesn't particularly want to give it back.

he gives a grunt of affirmation. ]

Except for the food, but I'm sure it's all ruined.

[venatoris]

[ Especially when you eat your coat. ]

Yeah, probably.

[ He keeps rooting through the rubble though, like he's missing something, frowning as he moves rocks and debris. ]

Where's your trench?

[messenger]

[ yeah, they ain't getting that back. cas narrows his eyes as he attempts to wiggle the memory free. he knows he was here, he remembers rooting around in the debris for something—

oh. ]

I think I ate it.

[venatoris]

[ He pauses in his search, looks over at Cas, brow raised. ]

You ate it?