join me in the slave au dumpster

[foolintherain]

[ They were told, all of them, that Dean Winchester could be found at an auto salvage shop in South Dakota, but he isn't there. A whole network of people are scouring the United States for one man, but it's Castiel who finds him. Dean's car, a 1967 Chevy Impala is parked in front of a gas station in Pontiac, Illinois, and Castiel parks his Lincoln Continental behind it.

This is the only gas station for miles. It's a shack on the main highway, surrounded by thick woods. It's ideal, Castiel thinks. This meeting was planned. He was meant to find Dean here. This is God's plan for him, to be the one to find Dean Winchester, here in this remote place.

He pushes open the glass door, and the bell above it jingles. Dean is there at the register, and neither he nor the cashier look up until Castiel calls out to him. ]

Dean Winchester. I need you to come with me.

[ There's no question in Castiel's voice, just a deep, gruff tone of inevitability. He stands straight-backed with a stuff sort of confidence. The suit he wears is a size too large; the trench coat swims on him, practically concealing his hands. His tie is pulled loose. He's been driving for a very long time, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the fact that he's the one who found Dean, that Dean is here, and that he'll be the one to bring Dean home, no matter what Dean has to say about it. This is preordained. Castiel believes that. He'll do whatever it takes to see his mission through. ]

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[venatoris]

[ Chains clink and rattle as Dean goes into Castiel's arms, winding around him as best as he can. His body aches - his joints hurt, his muscles ache. His veins feel full of liquid fire, but he's shivering violently in Castiel's grip, clutching at his coat, Dean burying his face into Cas' neck. ]

It's dark down here. [ His voice is muffled, small. A little wild - he's certainly delirious, but he speaks the truth.

His truths, the quiet ones he doesn't share with anyone else. ]

I don't like the dark.

[ Castiel smells good, he vaguely registers. Like...soap and shampoo. Clean things, things of safety and warmth. Detergent, which means clean clothes, a soft bed. Clean sheets. Somewhere to lay down and be safe, that isn't dirty and filthy and disgusting and dark. ]

Please stay.

[ Realistically, Cas needs to get Dean treatment of some kind, and soon, before it all goes septic and their 'Chosen One' dies from staph. But goddamn Dean doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts and fears.

His voice is practically a whisper, soft and barely audible. ]

Don't leave me.

[foolintherain]

[ The most that Castiel could do for Dean is outside of this cellar. That's what he thought. It seemed like he couldn't do anything for Dean down here, but how very wrong he was. He holds Dean, he listens to his scared whispers, and holds him tightly, rubbing his back, breathing slowly, projecting calm. ]

It's alright. I'm not leaving. I'll stay with you until we can get you out of here.

[ That'll be... something to explain, but maybe once Naomi sees the state Dean is in, she'll be willing to give him a room upstairs, like he should have gotten from the start. And then once Dean is cared for, Castiel can focus on finding out how this could've happened, and who needs to be held accountable for it.

The thought of a just future is calming, and Castiel finds himself relaxing more with the resolve. He shifts Dean slightly in his arms, not letting him go, but maneuvering them to a position somewhat more comfortable until they're sitting against the wall again, almost like before, except that they're more tangled up in each other than side by side. Gently, Castiel leans back, just a little, to try to look at Dean's face and ask quietly. ]

May I have my phone back?

[ He could just take it from the nest of Dean's lap, but that seems... inappropriate, in more than one way. ]

[venatoris]

[ His eyes burn as he squeezes them closed; tears or exhaustion, it's hard to say. Dean clutches at Castiel, leaning into him, unwilling to let go as they shift to slightly more comfortable positions.

Dean had already forgotten about the phone - if there was any indication of how far out of it he is, it's that damned cell phone. Cas literally handed him the most useful tool he possibly could have, and Dean dropped it, didn't even give it a second thought.

He barely gives it a thought now, looking at Cas with red eyes as he fishes it out of his lap and wordlessly hands it over. He'll probably hate himself later, when he's better, if he survives this, for not utilizing the phone while he had it, but for now he just...gives it back, without question. ]