Crazy Mind -Destiel-

7- So this is what you call an adventure huh?

"Dean?"

Dean slowly opens his eyes. His eyesight blurring as stray tears began welling up in the corners. Everything is fuzzy. He rubs his eyes trying to find the ground beneath him. "Cas?" He croaks, reaching out his hand. A pair of warm hands enclose over the top of his warming his whole body as if he had been wrapped in a soft blanket of feathers. He keeps his eyes shut not bothering to try and open them. Everything is too bright. He squeezes the hand holding his and winces at the pain that shoots up his arm. "Dean I'm here." A familiar voice whispers. "Just try to keep quiet everything will be fine. Just hold onto me and keep your eyes closed." As Castiel speaks his hand tightens its grip.

"Where are we?" Dean whispers back. His throat is raw and bruised making his whisper practically silent. Castiel's hand pets his hair. "Heaven." He answers. Dean inhales sharply his whole body tensing. The light darkens with his fear. The last time he had anything to do with heaven he ended up reliving the horror of watching his family die. He swallows heavily. "Why?" The angel seems to hesitate, trying to soothe the younger boy by covering him in warmth. "Calm down it's okay. We're in your heaven just try not to think and stay still."

Dean wills himself not to think. To not think about the angels after them, the dangerous angel beside him and the fact he left his baby brother in a hospital that's watched by both. His breath quickens and suddenly it's freezing his body is shaking with the effort to suck air back into his lungs. "C-cas?" He stutters. His hair stands on end a gust of cold wind travelling across every inch of his skin. "Cas?" He calls again hoping for a response. A thud hits the floor in front of him. His whole body shivering as the thud vibrates through him. Another hits the floor, closer this time. Then another and another. He swallows, his mind telling him not to but his body not cooperating.

He opens his eyes.

The abyss around him stutters, flinching as it morphs itself into real life. The darkness turns into moonlight, caressing the outline of treetops and drawing atoms out into reflections on water and fog into the air. The process happens so quickly that Dean's not even sure if there was an abyss in the first place. But his feet are wet and the wind sends chills down his spine so surely this must be real. Dean sits up from where he was laying on the ground. His entire body is soaked from what feels like a puddle beneath him but in the low light of the moon, it could just as well be a lake. Glancing around, Dean can just about make out the outline of trees around him and possibly a few bushes. So he's in a forest.

Great.

Dean grimaces as he presses his hands into the dirt to push himself up. It squelches beneath his palms, forcing its way underneath his nails as he presses down into it. However before he can even get an inch off the floor his arms give out, dropping him on to the ground. The mud and water splurt upwards latching onto his face in dirty brown specks. He groans in disgust and spits onto the ground as he once again pulls himself up. This time he locks his elbows and pushes harder managing to eventually stand up on unsteady legs. His clothes stick to him relentlessly as he tries to rip them from his body but it's pointless.

His top and bottoms have hardened from the mud drying against him so he must have been here for at least a couple of hours. In fact, it's a miracle he's even alive. Well, a miracle or an angel. Dean looks at his clothes, trying to brush the dirt off of his skin. "Cas?" He calls into the darkness. The water sways as he trudges through it. "Where are you?" Dean tries to ignore the dirt coating his hands as he wipes stray pieces of mud from his face. The wind chills his bare arms as he walks behind the first set of trees. Branches pull at his clothing when he walks past the second set of trees. He stops counting the minutes by the time he walks past the third set of trees.

Dean starts to lose hope of ever escaping the forest that surrounds him and his body is beginning to feel the pressure. He walks as if his limbs don't really belong to him and each step is a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurts now. Every damn thing. His legs are shaking and can't support his body yet his head is the only thing that's feeling heavy. The headache forming forces his entire body to lean to the side practically dragging across the ground instead of walking. Dean presses his fingers down the sides of his nose, miraculously it's not broken. There's a stake being hammered into his lower back, it strikes radiating pain in a way that shatters his brain - or at least that's what if feels like.