ainokitsune

Castiel sits on a rock, hands working busily. Dean blinks. There's a blade of...something that might be grass, resting across his eyelid. Blinking doesn't dislodge it. "What happened?" Castiel doesn't look up from his work. The needle flashes and the thread is dark and wet. "You can't die in Purgatory," the angel tells him. He shifts the arm resting across his lap, pulls the thread tighter. Until the limb is flush with the portion of the torso propped up against Castiel's leg. "Your soul can't cross over. Not from here. They tore you apart, but…well." He shifts forward, reaches down, rootles around a bit and comes up with a hand. The finge...