Title: Run
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Length: 655
Summary: Just another day in Purgatory.

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They were running. They were always running.

Something large crashed through the trees behind them. Dusk had settled and the light was hovering somewhere between day and night, shadows creeping over the ground and following close on their heels. Low-hanging vines swept across Dean's face, scratched his eyes, and Dean swatted at the blood staining his cheeks as he kept running.

Just keep running.

The tails of Castiel's coat billowed behind him, tan and white stained with grey and red, whipped around his legs, caught under his feet and he stumbled, nearly fell. Dean reached for him and Castiel caught his hand, pulled him hard as they ran.

A high pitched shriek screeched through the still air and sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

Castiel was panting beside him, hard, harsh breaths puffing between his lips. Sweat and grime dotted his forehead and dirt clung to his nails. Blue eyes searched, calculating, and a hard jerk on Dean's arm nearly sent him to his knees. Pain blossomed across Dean's shoulder and he hissed, vision going fuzzy for a second, and then Castiel was shoving him, shoving him down.

The ground gave beneath Dean and he fell.

His head connected with a thick cluster of roots and for a moment Dean saw stars.

Castiel was still shoving, pulling, dragging him back. A large tree had been partially uprooted and there was a small bit of space beneath it where the ground had eroded away. Castiel wedged Dean beneath it then curled up beside him and waited.

Dean blinked. It was dark. The air smelled heavily of earth and dampness. His fingers sank into the soggy ground beneath him. Something skittered across his wrist and he shook it off.

Castiel wrapped himself around Dean, arms across his chest and around his back, holding him tight. "Quiet," he murmured and Dean realized he was still panting, still gasping for air. Still running. A hand fell across his heart and he felt it thudding against his ribs. Lips found his ear. "Quiet."

Dean reached out. His palm slid across Castiel's knee, higher to his thigh. He clutched at the thin scrubs.

The ground trembled, wild vibrations that made Dean feel sick, and the beast crashed into the clearing. Long claws scraped at the ground and nostrils flared wide.

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Castiel's fingers curled into the fabric of Dean's shirt.

A roar sounded and their tree shook. Dirt rained down, dirt and bugs and they crawled across Dean and Castiel, down their shirts and through their hair and Dean shuddered with the effort to stay still.

Large feet pounded the ground in frustration. A long tail whipped, tree trunks cracking at the impact.

Spider legs stuck in the blood on Dean's cheek.

A loud wuff was huffed just above them. Dean blinked and tried to shake the grit from his eyes as the beast gave a low, defeated growl and wandered away, back into the forest in search of other prey.

They clung to each other, listening for movement. It was hard to hear over the blood rushing in Dean's ears.

A minute passed. Another. The woods around them were still.

Dean's head thunked back against the roots. He felt Castiel relax beside him. The hand over Dean's heart softened its grip, long fingers smoothing over the worn fabric.

"We need to go," was whispered into Dean's ear and Dean's body sagged in protest. His muscles ached, his head throbbed. His throat was scraped raw, tongue too swollen and dry to form words.

Wiping away the blood still oozing sluggishly from the cut along his cheek, Dean nodded.

Castiel moved first, slithered out from beneath the roots, and reached back to help Dean. They only allowed themselves a second to get their feet beneath them, for eyes to meet through the dark, hands clasped together too briefly before being let go -

And then they were running.

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End.