cholesterol: ๐Ÿ‡ฉโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡ดโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡ณโ€Œ'๐Ÿ‡นโ€Œ ๐Ÿ‡นโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡ดโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡บโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡จโ€Œ๐Ÿ‡ญโ€Œ (purgatory road)
แด…แด‡แด€ษด แดกษชษดแด„สœแด‡แดคแด›แด‡ส€ ([personal profile] cholesterol) wrote in [community profile] villagelogs 2020-12-08 01:26 am (UTC)

no, you can't go back to constantinople

( dean's not sleeping great, never has, but when you don't have TV or, sure, porn, or the endless scroll on your phone, you get bored early. after checking to make sure Claire is home and asleep and okay, dean heads out with a grey beanie on and his signature green jacket. Castiel's handprint remains on the left shoulder, the dark red remnant of blood not cleaned yet. And it smells vaguely like moonshine when he'd poured a little on it accidentally, before Claire's hunter funeral.

The one he would've done.

It's early when he sees that the fog has rolled back. There are stores and buildings he didn't see before. He's sure of it. He's always been good with directions. When your dad drops you off in the middle of a city you don't know and he expects you to find him and your little brother? You get good with directions.

He approaches the antique store first, leans in and holds his hands around his face. He looks back.
)

This place, it wasn't here yesterday?

( Wasn't able to be reached, he means. He figures the fog keeps and preserves. It just -- stops them. )

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