Would You Say I'm Worth It

Cradle Our Desire

"Jesus fucking Christ, I think I'm dying man." Dean chokes out between bursts of vomit.

Benny grimaces, giving Dean a slow, sympathetic pat on the back as he supports the shaky human.

Dean wretches and dry heaves a few more times, eyes watering from the acid that burns in his throat and chest. "Alright...alright I'm good. I'm good." He looks at Benny, smiling weakly with a sweat glazed face.

"You tryin' to convince me of that, or yourself?" Benny teases.

Dean forces a smile. "Both."

Cas walks up from behind them, one duffel thrown over his shoulder as he holds the second out to Benny for him to take. "Dean, how are you feeling?"

"Just peachy." He replies sarcastically.

Dean starts for the trail, but he falters, almost falling. Both men rush to his side to support him. Dean shakes them off in annoyance.

"I've got it for fucks sake you two!"

"Right, my apologies." Cas stammers out.

Benny laughs, earning a side glare from the hunter.

"What's so funny, Chuckles?"

"Nothin' Chief, just glad to hear ya gettin' your bark back." He pats Dean on the shoulder before they continue on.

Dean was down for the count for almost a whole week, which was a week longer than he cared to stay in this Hell hole. Benny and Cas waited on him hand and foot - kept him clean, fed him, gave him water, and protected him. They laid low, trying to attract as little attention as possible. It was a sketchy last few days, and Dean didn't want to be a sitting duck any longer. They needed to move, if you don't keep moving In Purgatory, you die.

Benny and Cas were on far better terms, and Dean was thankful for that. He knew that they had talked, he has faint memories of watching them talk by the fire. Dean had been so beside himself in his delirious state that he hadn't heard them, at least not clearly. It was muffled tones that he could hear, which sounded like a foreign language to him for a few days. Whatever they had said, they must've come to an understanding of sorts. Dean still wasn't ok, he still felt ill, but he'd take the soreness and nausea that he was feeling now over the boiling fever and hallucinations.

The hallucinations had been the worst part for Dean.

The hunter's eyes snap open, he's bound and gagged, chained down and sitting completely naked on a cold, unforgiving concrete floor. It's mostly dark, the only light that leaks down into the chilled room is coming from a metal grate in the ceiling above him. He glances up, it's all too familiar. He watches with wide eyes as dust falls in through the grate, highlighted by the small amount of light he had. It's briefly blocked out by a figure walking across it on the floor above.

Someone was coming.

The loud clunk and grind of the door being unlocked makes him jerk his head to the left, watching as it swings open to reveal a large, ominous figure, rolling in a squeaky cart of tools.

The door shuts loudly, and there's a small click as the figure turns on the light switch without warning. Dean closes his eyes tightly from the blinding, bright light. His eyes were adjusted to the dark, this light makes his eyes water.

The other man tsks in mocking. "Now, now Dean. Open your eyes for me, hmm?"

Hesitantly, Dean opens them, meeting the gaze of Alastair. The demon reaches behind the hunter's head, unclipping the gag as it falls to the floor, bouncing off to the side.