Fallen From Grace

(Source: fuckrepublicans)

astaraels:

dotthings:

fog (by Martin Lopatka)

The days are so much longer in Purgatory. It takes what feels like hours to Dean for the sun to rise, and everywhere they look is covered in a deep fog. There’s still no end in sight to the forest they’d landed in originally, and he begins to think that the entirety of it is just that—one big fucking forest.

“Did we end up in Fangorn or something?” he asks Castiel. The silence they would lapse into now and again had gotten to be too much, and he needed to break it somehow. “I swear, I’m half-expecting to run into the Ents any minute now.” Shit, he thinks. This was a place where all the freaky things ended up eventually. Who could say that Ents—or something like them—weren’t here?

“You should be unsurprised by now that I don’t—”

“—understand that reference, I know,” Dean mutters, a little disheartened even though he hadn’t expected much else. “When we get back, you and me, we’re gonna have a Lord of the Rings marathon.”

Castiel turns back to him, his lips quirking in what Dean knows passes for a smile with his friend. He’s gotten back into practice of reading Cas-isms a lot more quickly than he’d expected. “I would like that.”

Dean grins back. “Yeah, I think you will.”