[ The question honestly goes largely ignored. What happened is he went home, had a rough three years, ended up spit back out here, older, wiser, angrier. Purgatory had been hard, long; twisted and fucked up, but pure. He'd been in a hunting ground that was chock full of monsters in a kill or be killed environment - it was something he was used to, though Purgatory was a different level all on it's own.
It'd been a damn monster battle royale, like friggin' Gladiator type shit, except never ending. It was constant, monster after monster, leaving Dean blood splattered but never quite wrung dry. Still...it'd been familiar; hunting things, killing monsters - he's lived his life like this and came to the point where he enjoys it.
Or, at least, he's convinced himself he has.
And now he's here and he feels a little like a wild animal let loose back on the world. The sunlight feels strange, the environment feels strange - even his room feels strange, like it isn't his. It's a younger versions room, not that he doesn't like the decor but it's different. He's different.
But sim or not, Cas stands in front of him, also older, but it barely skirts by Dean's attention. His focus is on Cas as a whole, the angel in front of him made manifest - not a hallucination.
He thinks.
There's no hesitation. When Cas turns to face him, Dean is on him in two strides, reaching, yanking him in by the lapels and into a tight, hard embrace, his face buried in Cas' shoulder.
Not a hallucination at all. ]
Shit, [ he wheezes, clutching at him, arms tight around the angel, fingers twisting in the fabric of his trench. ] You're here.
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It'd been a damn monster battle royale, like friggin' Gladiator type shit, except never ending. It was constant, monster after monster, leaving Dean blood splattered but never quite wrung dry. Still...it'd been familiar; hunting things, killing monsters - he's lived his life like this and came to the point where he enjoys it.
Or, at least, he's convinced himself he has.
And now he's here and he feels a little like a wild animal let loose back on the world. The sunlight feels strange, the environment feels strange - even his room feels strange, like it isn't his. It's a younger versions room, not that he doesn't like the decor but it's different. He's different.
But sim or not, Cas stands in front of him, also older, but it barely skirts by Dean's attention. His focus is on Cas as a whole, the angel in front of him made manifest - not a hallucination.
He thinks.
There's no hesitation. When Cas turns to face him, Dean is on him in two strides, reaching, yanking him in by the lapels and into a tight, hard embrace, his face buried in Cas' shoulder.
Not a hallucination at all. ]
Shit, [ he wheezes, clutching at him, arms tight around the angel, fingers twisting in the fabric of his trench. ] You're here.