erm elasa a oresa (Supernatural RP: 1x1 Kisara & Whale Wings)

[Kisara]

NOTE: This is a private 1x1 RP between @Kisara and @Whale Wings

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erm elasa a oresa
"With You In Darkness"

Mud and leaves caked the bottoms of his shoes, making it difficult to walk. He followed a faded path through the forest, worn down by infinite sets of hoof prints. He had no idea which forest this was, or even what continent it was; the last thing he remembered was the sinister smile of a scheming old man, who delivered his final orders to him: "Live your life, die, then come find me. Tell me your story."

He held his hand to his neck, the invisible wound faintly aching.

He had awoken in this black forest, not another soul in sight, his head swimming from the impact of the fall. Tiny lights danced before his eyes, until they finally adjusted to the darkness. He attempted to leave, to fly out of that place, but found that he- how would Dean say it? - "had his wings clipped". He was stranded.

His attempts at calling for help were met with silence; his prayers went unanswered. Either no one was listening, or-

No one can hear me.

He shuddered at the thought, perplexed by the sudden chill that ran through him. He realized then that he actually felt cold, very cold; not even the tattered trench coat hanging about his shoulders offered him any solace. He paused, leaning against a pine tree to catch his breath. The horn of a semi-truck blared in the distance. It was far away, but enough to renew his determination. He trudged on in the direction of the road, silently praying to himself that he was, at least, in Kansas.

He had to find them as soon as possible, to tell them that Metatron had fooled him and that Heaven was in peril.

He had to get to Lebanon.

He had to find the Winchesters.

 

[Endless Cosmos]

He couldn't let him go again.

He couldn't be alone, not after everything that's happened.

Well, he had Sam back, alive, at least partially. So, why didn't everything feel alright? Why did he his chest constrict until he felt sick to his stomach. Maybe it had something to do with sacrificing the entire world for himself. But, he wasn't alone anymore; he had what he wanted. Sam was safe, or at least safe enough with an angel inside of him. What more, they had a home now and the King of Hell was chained up in the basement. Things couldn't have been better, for them, at least.

Because Sam was alive. And he wasn't alone.

Their footsteps were quiet, in fact, everything was quiet and cold. They hadn't been inside the bunker for awhile now and Kevin had been hiding away in his mini-ship bunker, though that didn't seem quite necessary now that they no longer had to keep the tablets from anyone. And Kevin was instrumental in solving the new issue with the Angels, though why Metatron would put a reverse to his spell into the an encyclopedia angels Dean didn't quite know. At least it was something and they had to try, for Castiel.

Shit, Cas. There were too many things on his plate to keep track of, with Ezekiel and Kevin,;finding out how to stop Metatron; dealing with all the angels; the King of Hell was chained in their bunker for God's sake; and now they had to take care of Castiel, wherever the hell he was. And here he thought everything was fine.

Dean let out a sigh, letting everything hit him all at once. They had too much shit on their plate and not enough time to fix it all. But, all that mattered right now was that Sam was safe, alive, and he wouldn't be alone, ever. Said brother gave him a sidelong glance, his eyebrows worrying as they strained to meet along the lines of his forehead. All Dean could do was give a dismissive wave before gesturing to Kevin.

"Take care of him, Sammy," he mumbled, "I'm just tired, is all. Long day, right?"

Sam merely nodded, nudging Kevin further down the hall to the spare bedroom. "Alright, Dean," was his only response, typical of Sam, full of a patronizing sarcasm. But, Dean felt too worn down to care if his brother believed him or not and he wasn't really up to talking to Sam, much less Ezekiel who seemed to like throwing in his two cents.

Falling into the bed—it was too much work taking everything off and slip under the covers and the cold actually felt kinda nice—Dean ran his hands across the scruff of his face, scratching the exhaustion out of his jaws. But, of course, there was literally no reason for him to fall asleep tonight, even in his fatigue. What he'd give for Cas to just pop up right next to him and talk all the stress out. He was good for that, but Cas probably lost his wings in the fall, maybe... maybe he'd even died. Falling from that height would at least injure a Angel, possibly kill it in the process. What if Cas fell even further? What if he'd had injuries to begin with and that falling just—

Dean shook his head, growling in the dark before flipping over to bury his face in the pillow. He couldn't think about that. It was just as bad, if not worse, than imagining Sam dying. Worse? When did that change? It didn't matter. A tired mind couldn't possibly sift through all those memories and emotions and it certainly couldn't handle imagining any family of his dying. It was too much. Dean had enough of death for an entire lifetime, even if that was asking for way too much.

But, if Castiel hadn't died in the fall, then where the hell was he?

The realization hit him, then, that even if Cas did survive, then he'd most likely be in danger. But, what would Ezekiel feel about Castiel, especially knowing that all of this was probably his fault. Dammit, Castiel wanted to fix his home so badly he'd trust anybody to do so. The thought drove him made, but he understood. Boy, did Dean understand completely and if he said otherwise, Sam was the perfect evidence to show he was a hypocrite.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean growled, jolting up. He fished the phone from his pocket and immediately dialed the last number he remembered Cas having. It was a start—

It was a dead end. The damn phone was out of service and he had no other means other than searching the entire damn country. The anger and frustration that surged through him then urged him to hit something, anything, but Dean didn't need a broken hand on his list of things to fix. They'd just have to figure something out tomorrow.

The angels, Crowley, Metatron, they could wait: Castiel had to be their priority now.