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Summary
The sharp whip of the wind, the varied texture of the ground beneath his feet, the pathway illuminated by moonlight, the urge to sing to it…
It was always easiest letting his instincts have control, and Dean often silently mourned the years prior that he wasn’t able to have this freedom. Sometimes, he was envious of Cas in that regard, of all the decades he’d been afforded this luxury, all the years he’d had it before Dean was even a thought. Surrendering to instinct felt so natural, so fulfilling, so...pure. He was one with nature, one with Cas, one with existence. The living, the inanimate, life and death...it all began and ended with him.
With them.
Series
- Part 4 of A Broken World