i told you i would get you out. when we were there, it's like you just gave up. it's like you didn't believe we could do it. i mean, you kept saying that you didn't think it would work. did you not trust me? i did everything i could to get you out! everything. i did not leave you.don’t you ever leave me again
Purr = happy cat noise
Gato = Spanish for cat
Purgatory = infinite realm of happy Spanish cats
Jayne, this screams of happy-place ficlets.
They were one species short on Earth!
Keep talking. I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.
— You Are Jeff, Richard Siken
“When I was alive, I kept a bird.” Castiel hears the siren clearly, even though her mouth is sewn shut. The stitches are small and tight and jagged, and blood blooms gently around the coarse thread as her lips do not move. “Wherever I stayed, I let it fly free. Let it eat the spiders in the corners of my rooms, the ants that ran along the baseboards. Let it flap against the windows and shit on the carpet. I liked to watch it fly, so I let it fly free. But I couldn’t trust it in the sky, so it had to stay inside.”
She leans down to where he cowers against the base of a thick, stunted tree; she brushes her bloody mouth against his, lightly, lightly. Her threads catch on his dry lips and part them. “I loved you at first,” she tells him softly. A drop of her filthy blood slips into his mouth, and Castiel tastes her. He tastes her, and sees Dean, and wants. “You let me out, and I loved you. But you were just another cage, angel. A smaller one.”
Dean kneels astride him, hand on his throat, fingertips digging hard along the line of his jaw. Castiel watches him fearfully, and tastes something bitter on his tongue. He thinks it’s shame.
“I don’t love you anymore,” Dean says.