After the End

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dean's lungs burned the longer he ran, but nothing mattered more than getting to Cas, not even his own pain. He refused to slow down until he had Cas somewhere safe. Somewhere along the way, Sam had gotten separated from Dean. He may have called after him to slow down, to wait for him so he didn't get himself killed, but Dean couldn't hear anything but his own heart thumping hard against his ribcage.

The place Dean saw John meeting with Crowley earlier today was close, but he still didn't have eyes on Cas. He could hear the sounds of growling and snarling from the hellhounds, gradually closing in on Cas from the opposite direction. Dean just had to get there before them. He'd been running for so long, his vision was starting to blur around the edges. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

Dean was starting to think he wasn't going to make it. He thought he might pass out before he got to Cas, but then he saw him. Cas was tied to the trunk of a large tree with tight rope, his head slumped forward like he was unconscious. Dean pushed his own pain aside and stumbled over to the tree, grabbing his knife out of his pocket to cut the rope. "Cas, can you hear me?" he asked, gently lifting Cas' head. He was definitely out cold, blood caked to his face and matted into his hair. "Cas, I'm here, I've got you," Dean whispered, even though Cas couldn't hear him.

Dean cut through the rope, keeping an arm around Cas to keep him upright. The hellhounds were closing in, their growling so loud it felt like they were drooling over Dean's shoulder. He needed to move faster, but it felt like his arms were filled with sand. Everything felt heavy. He was exhausted. He was doing as much as he could with what strength he had left. He finally got Cas free and had just enough time to haul him up onto his shoulder before the hellhounds started snapping at his heels. He took off at a run, unsure where he was even planning on taking Cas. He couldn't take him into the safety of the wall because he needed to summon Crowley to call off the hellhounds. There was no telling what the limits to the wall ever were. Maybe the hellhounds were strong enough to get past it and then they'd all be screwed.

Dean ran as fast as he could, even as a pair of claws sank into his calf. He pushed through it because Cas was more important than anything. He could feel the blood pouring from his leg, the searing pain getting worse with each time his foot hit the hard ground. He was struggling to breathe, struggling to keep Cas on his shoulder. The street was within view, a row of houses just a few hundred feet in the distance. Dean just had to make it inside. That's what he kept telling himself. He didn't think about how the hellhounds could easily break down the door. He had to have some kind of hope.

Dean wasn't sure how he made it from the woods to the front door of that house with his bag on one arm and Cas on the other, but he did. He may have blacked out while running there, but when he came back to his surroundings, he was shoving the door open and stumbling inside with a pained groan, dropping the bag first before finding the couch in the middle of the room.

"Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, but you're gonna be fine," he promised, laying the angel on the cushions as he remained unconscious. Dean tried not to spend too much time fussing over him while the hellhounds were still out there. He made sure Cas was laying down with his head propped up to keep the blood from choking him to death before leaning over him to kiss his hair. "I'll take care of this."

Cas stirred in his sleep, but his eyes stayed firmly shut. Dean sighed, the sound of snarling hellhounds outside the door forcing him to his feet. He found the paper in his pocket with the spell to summon Crowley and quickly grabbed the bag with all of the ingredients. After dumping them all out of the bag and onto the floor in front of him, Dean started mixing them in the large bowl Charlie threw in the bag. He didn't get more than halfway into the mixing when the door began to shake. The familiar sound of growling and snapping meant Dean was about to have to fight a hellhound.