The air in purgatory is like a heavy weight, suffocating in every breath. You can feel the darkness closing in, the trees around you twisted and grotesque, shadows shifting with unseen movements. The distant growls of creatures you can’t even imagine echo through the air. Dean is next to you, his hand gripping his knife so tightly that his knuckles are white, his eyes darting around in every direction. You can feel the tension in him, the frustration at Castiel’s sudden disappearance. “Damnit Cas…,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head, clearly pissed.

You both watched as Castiel, your friend and ally, disappeared without a word into the darkness, vanishing the moment you got there. The angel, so powerful, so certain, had just… run. You can’t blame him entirely; Purgatory is more than anyone can understand, even Cas. You’re scared too, more than you want to admit. You can’t even remember the last time you felt safe. There’s a tremor in your voice when you speak, barely above a whisper. “Dean… I’m scared.”

You try to hold it together, but the words slip out anyway. You didn’t mean for him to hear, but he does. His eyes meet yours, the raw emotion in them visible even in the dark, and something soft flickers in his expression, a fleeting moment of understanding.

For a heartbeat, you feel exposed, but then his hand, warm and firm, finds yours. He doesn’t say anything at first, he doesn’t need to, but the way his fingers close around yours, and his thumb rubs against the back of your hand, makes purgatory feel a little less dark.

“Me too,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, like he’s not used to admitting it. The words sink into the space between you, and it’s a comfort you didn’t expect, but desperately needed. For a moment, the terrifying unknown of purgatory feels less lonely, just the two of you against the dark, together. “C’mon…” he said as he carefully tried to walk with you through the place, hoping to devise a plan along the way.