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[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?

[messenger]

Uh... Yes.

[ pretty sure that one wasn't a hallucination. ]

[venatoris]

[ He presses his lips together in a thin line, and if Cas and he were strangers, he'd probably look pissed.

Instead, he's trying very, very hard to hold in a laugh. ]

Oh.

[messenger]

[ he narrows his eyes, because he might be awful at reading the emotions of other people, but— ]

It isn't funny.

[venatoris]

Well--

[ He swallows the laugh and picks his way back over to Cas now that he knows the coat isn't buried, and drapes his arms around Cas' shoulders. ]

It's a little funny.

[messenger]

[ he rests his forehead against dean's shoulder without thinking about it; his eyes close automatically. dean is warm, and the smell is considerably better now that he's left the head behind. he slips his cold, clammy hands up underneath the sides of his shirt, fingers spread wide against his rib cage, leeching heat. ]

I'm sure I had a good reason for it, at the time.

[venatoris]

Mm yeah. Probably.

[ He shivers a little when Cas sticks those hands on him, then eases back to shrug out of the flannel he has on under the jacket. ]

Take this too.

[messenger]

[ he'd rather dean stay close and let him cling, but he supposes they have to be moving, so he'll take the flannel. slipping the coat off so he can shoulder the shirt on, and then layering the coat over it. up close, dean might glance the smattering of faint, silvery scars across his body: one stretching from his eyebrow to the outer corner of his eye, almost too faint to see; another curving over the saddle of his shoulder; one straight down his chest; and another cutting across his belly just beneath his navel. the one between his pecs is the most prominent, but it'll probably fade with time, alongside all the rest. he finishes buttoning the flannel with his unsteady hands, and immediately slips them back beneath dean's shirt.

at least the flannel hangs down far enough to almost cover him. ]