Castiel carefully assessed himself and found that the angelic power within him was nearly depleted. Two of his ribs were broken, and every breath brought searing pain.
But he still forced himself to his feet and looked around. This place clearly didn't seem safe.
Dean was nowhere to be seen, nor was Sam.
There was only him and this yellow river, flowing like pus constantly seeping from a wound in the earth.
He walked aimlessly along the riverbank. Before he had gone far, he was attacked.
A group of monsters appeared before him, varying in size and shape.
Yet they shared the same traits: pale yellow exteriors, inhuman forms, and a pure, desperate hunger for life energy.
The monsters crawled out of the river one after another, or burrowed from flesh tumors and leaped down from bone towers, surging toward Castiel like a tide.
Castiel had no weapon, only his hands and the last trace of his angelic power.
He raised a hand, and a faint white light glowed in his palm.
The light spread like thin mist. The monsters it touched screamed, their skin smoking, but it only slowed them down. It did not kill them.
There were simply too many, an endless stream of them.
He retreated swiftly until his back hit a bone tower. The monsters closed in around him, and the nearest ones were close enough for him to smell the rot in their mouths.
Just as one monster opened its jaws to bite his throat—
Gunfire rang out!
The monster's head exploded instantly, yellow slime splattering across the ground. Then came more gunshots—precise bursts, every round striking a monster's vital point.
A gap was torn through the encirclement. Several figures rushed in, carrying modified firearms with smoke still curling from their muzzles.
"This way, follow