Fics like foundations
How long has it been? Twenty minutes? A hundred years? Castiel isn’t sure. He shifts, closes all one hundred and thirty-two of his eyes. He pokes at the warm thing, but it is like it is part of him. Castiel thinks of Sam--the least painful person to think of--and wonders what he would do if he were in this situation. Perhaps Castiel should pick up his vessel and try to find someone to talk to, or find the Shadow and ask it to put him to sleep, but he’s not sure what the point is. Either someone will find him, or they won’t. He has eternity--what’s a little bit of being awake?
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