Chapter Text
When Dean woke up, he felt warm. Not sun shining through the window onto his bare back-warm but fire burning next to his face-warm. Everything was hot and the air was dry.
Dean sat up and looked around. It vaguely looked like his bedroom. It had the same shape and the 'bed' had the same size but it was completly burnt down. The bed was only the metal frame and a thin blanket. He could feel the metal poking and pinching him, digging into his legs. He got up. He was wearing something like an army uniform with a thigh holster. There were only ruins of walls no ceiling. He stepped over the remainings of the wall what had been his garden eight hours ago. The earth was dry and hard, warmed up by the unforgiving sun burning down from the cloudless, sickening sky.
The air tasted funny on his mouth. Thick and old. He coughed, tyring to get rid of the taste.
The houses that had once stood proud and white along the street were dirtyish brown and yellow, some of them pitch black. Only few of them had more that one wall. He stumbled down the road, the thick air clouding his brain.
It was so wrong, so wrong…
Cas… where was Cas? Dean looked back to the ruin that had once been their house - the house they had bought far too early, the house that stood for their almost foolish love.
"Cas?" He tried to scream. It came out as a rough croak, his throat dry and sore ber he screamed again and again CAS, CAS, CAS, CAS…
The sun was setting when he found him, the dirty brown world tinted in gold and red, making it look as if it was on fire all over again. Cas was curled against one of the ruins. He was coughing, choking.
"Cas!" Dean croaked, his voice hoarse and his throat aching. He kneeled down in front of him.
"Dean…" Cas croaked back, his voice sounded strangled and simply wrong. He was weak and shaken by shivers and He coughing fits.
"Cas, what's wrong?" He asked, taking his lovers face into his hand.
"Poison, Dean…" Cas pressed out. Cas's eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back and then Dean realised. His throat wasn't dry, it was burning, the air was like acid keeping him alive but killing him at the same time, there was too few oxigen… not enought oxy-
When Dean woke up, he felt warm. Not hot body curled up against him warm but fucking 600°F warm. Everything was burning around him, the air was on fire.
Dean couldn't move, he was pinned to something but as soon as he'd try to tug himself free, a burning pain would run through his muscles. There was definitely something pinning him down. He was nailed to something… though he didn't feel anything against his back but burning fire.
He tried to look around, almost having to throw up. There were large meathooks buried in his shoulders, hands, side, everywhere and whenever he tried to get off they's dig deeper into his flesh, he found himself wishing he was back in the acid filled burnt world.
He knew this was a dream, he just knew it… but he couldn't wake up and he couldn't make the pain stop. He cried out.
First wordless cries in agony and pain and then he formed words. CAS, PLEASE, CAS! HELP ME! Repeating it over and over again. CAS, PLEASE, CAS! HELP ME!
Then he felt a knew pain, cold metal digging into the parts of his body, the meathooks didn't reach. It felt good at first, the cold metal against his burning skin but then there was pain and warm blood and salty sweat biting into the knew wound and he was screaming again.
He didn't know how long he endured the pain. He barely noticed the changes in the pain, if he was stabbed or parts of his flesh cut out, if the blade was dragged through his skin, carving and slicing him open, barely leaving any part of his body untouched.
He stopped screaming, he stopped making sounds and he stopped hoping for rescue, he didn't know how much time passed until he passed out.
When Dean woke up, he felt cold. Not blanket slipping off his body while sleeping cold but total absence of sun cold. Everything felt as cold as ice, the air frozen around him.
Dean sat up, the floor hard and wet. It looked like a forest but not green. Dean had the feeling of being watched and he was on his feet, shivering again. As far as he knew he was wearing four layers of clothing but the cold clung to his bones, hugging him tight and creeping under his jackets, making the hair in the back of his neck stand up. He looked around, there was noone to be seen. Only trees and bushes, not flowers, no colours, no sky, no sun.
He felt anxious, as if he had to fight for his live any moment and then he started running. He tripped and got back up again thorns tugging at his clothes, his hands, stinging him and drawing blood when reaching his skin. He was panting, chased by nothing and yet everything he looked over his shoulder with almost ever step. He fell again and again and he didn't dare to call for help.
He knew he was dreaming but he couldn't snap out of him and he didn't want to wake up, afraid of what horrors might await him in the next world. He liked this… compared with the other. There was no acid burning down his throat and there was no fire licking at his skin, no meathooks in his flesh, crushing his bones, only the invisible eyes watching his every move, unseen creatures behind his back disappearing as soon as he turned.
It was horrible but there was no pain… that was except for the creeping pain of the scrates and thorns in his arms and face. It was slow and barely noticable but he became slower, his movements heavy and his blood circulating slower. Venom. He thought before he fell over and everything went black.
When Dean wakes up, he feels warm. Not fire burning next to his face warm and not 600°F warm. He takes a deep breath, the air feels cold and soft, it's not poisonous or on fire. He feels the warmth of a soft blanket covering him and protecting him from the cold seeping into the room. He feels a soft matress beneath him, it's warm and dry so different from the cold forest floor or the metal bed. He shifts and finds himself free of any bondages. He takes another deep breath and sits up. He's still afraid what he'll see and his heart is racing in his chest.
He looks around carefully. The room is dark but he can't recognize any threats and he's not being watched. He jumps a little when he feels a warm hand on his rapidly cooling back. It's soothing and smooth.
"Nightmare?" Cas mumbles next to him, still buried underneath his covers. Dean sinks back to the matress, facing his lover.
"Yeah." He says and cuddles a little bit closer, not falling asleep again.
Dean spends the rest of the day worried that this is another one of the horrible nightmares and that something unthinkable will happen some time during the day.