Where’s the angel?
Too long. It had been too long since Dean had seen Cas. He wasn’t quite sure how long exactly; days and nights were blurring together in the near-constant darkness that was purgatory. All Dean could think of was the broken shell that used to be Castiel, in his pristine white hospital clothes, with his childish fascination with flowers, insects, nature, his insistence that he didn’t fight anymore, couldn’t fight anymore; and the overwhelming terror in his eyes when he told Dean where they’d ended up, right before he vanished.
I need to find the angel.
Time on my Hands / words: 25,605 / NC-17
Raphael traps Dean and Cas in 1943. Destiel, first time, time travel, hurt/confort.
