Lexi and I are doing a thing 

 

I am Dean she is Cas

Edited December 5, 201311 yr by Paopufruity

Fear was an emotion that Castiel was used to suppressing. He was sure that he was stronger than any emotion, but after watching the Winchesters suffer right in front of his eyes, Castiel wasn't sure he could believe it anymore. Zachariah could have easily killed them. He could have killed the brothers over and over, and Castiel had only managed to stop him because luck was on his side. 

 

He was afraid to meet the Winchesters back in their dingy motel room. Castiel worried that they'd blame him. Why hadn't he rescued them faster? How much pain had they already suffered before he finally managed to appear? Castiel remained in the little park, watching children run past him, screaming at each other playfully. He was too ashamed to visit the boys, and promised himself he wouldn't leave his happy little park unless they called on him. 

Dean was currently indulging himself in a hearty bottle of whiskey, everything had really gone to complete shit now. Lucifer was out of the box, Zachariah and the godsquad were currently on the loose, and Castiel was nowhere to be seen. The angel had come to their rescue in the earlier showdown with Zachariah, but it had been a pretty close call. Now, of course he was gone.

 

He looked over at Sam, who was currently asleep, it had been a rough day, no wonder his little brother was all tuckered out. He sighed, where was Cas anyway? Was he avoiding them for some reason.  

"Cas, where the hell are you man?" he called out to the empty room. 

Castiel shivered a bit. Though Dean would never realize it and Castiel wouldn't dare tell him, even just speaking his name was like a prayer. Castiel could hear every word. Did Dean need him or was he just worried? It had taken time for Castiel to get used to the idea that Dean would worry about him. How strange was that? A human worrying about the safety of an angel of the Lord? Castiel chuckled to himself. But really, should he visit Dean? After the battle with Zachariah, it was normal for a human to be shaken up. So would a human prefer comfort or to be alone? Castiel wasn't quite sure, but he figured Dean wouldn't be asking where he was if he didn't want him there. He waited a moment to be sure none of the children dashing around the park were looking, and when he was sure that he wouldn't be noticed, Castiel transported himself into the Winchesters' motel room. 

 

He hadn't remembered it being so awful. The room smelled putrid, and stains covered the carpet and dull orange wallpaper. The lights flickered, casting a shadow of Dean onto the bed. Dean was facing the window even though the shades were drawn. He hadn't noticed the angel's presence, and Castiel didn't want to interrupt his thinking. So Castiel stood and waited for Dean to turn and notice him. 

Dean felt a shiver down his spine as he felt another presence in the dingy motel room and the rush of wings. Though for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off a water stain on the ceiling.

 

"Cas buddy, that you?" He didn't understand why he asked if he already knew the answer. If it was another angel, they would've attacked the two brothers already. The alcohol was muddling his brain a bit this night. It was a blissful feeling that dulled his senses and pushed his worries and thoughts back. Alcohol was an escape for him, he knew it's effects, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. Better to indulge. Sam had tried to get him to stop before, it had gotten really bad after he had admitted to him what he had done in hell. The nightmares were so brutal that not even the strongest whiskey could keep them away. He shuddered at the memory, and took another swig from the bottle. 

 

"We... We missed you back ther'..." his speech was slightly slurred and he silently cursed himself. 

"You are drunk." Castiel noted. Though he disapproved of the Winchesters' almost constant drinking, he understood there was no way to make them stop. He couldn't take away something that gave them comfort. "If you are currently incapacitated I will leave and not disturb you." But Castiel didn't want to go. Even if Dean didn't need him there, Castiel was afraid to leave. Where was he going to go? He wasn't welcome in Heaven, and he was awkward at best on Earth. For the first time, Castiel had no one to turn to. The only people left in the world who still cared about him were the Winchesters, and Castiel was certain that they didn't deserve to have him riding on their coattails. While he was a skilled fighter, Castiel felt as if somehow he hindered the brothers. "Goodnight, Dean." 

Dean heard Castiel turning to leave after his voice swam in his ears for a while. A part of him wanted Cas to leave and leave him to drink all of his sorrow away, but a small tug in his chest told his drunken brain to act.

 

"Cas,wait." his words came out quicker than expected. He quickly turned to the falling angel, the act of moving made his vision swim. Dean rubbed at his face in an attempt to shake it off and sober up enough to at least talk to him. He suddenly then realized something,

 

He didn't want to be alone.

Castiel hated the way Dean looked. The hunter was always tired, but his shoulders were almost exaggeratedly hunched over, and the purple bags under his eyes were proof that he hadn't slept in days. The hand holding the bottle of whiskey shook slightly. Drunkenness was essentially a form of sickness, and something Castiel normally would have had the ability to heal. He could transform Dean from a sullen, drunken man into courageous, alcohol-tolerant Dean again. But Heaven had cut him off permanently, and there was nothing Castiel could do for his friend anymore. It was one more thing Castiel had failed to do for the man who had given him so much. "Dean, the only cure for drunkenness is sleep. I am sure that you need some of it. I do not want to disturb you anymore." Castiel dropped his gaze. "And I am sorry for arriving late today. I wish I had shown up to rescue you and Sam sooner." 

Dean shook his head, attempting to sober himself in an attempt to at least speak with Castiel so that he wouldn't fly off on him. Dean payed close attention to the falling angel's face. Normally, it was quite stoic and emotionless. Tonight however, it seemed somber and there slight lines of worry etched on his forehead and around his eyes. What could he be worrying about now, his brothers and sisters perhaps? Poor guy was locked out of heaven since this apocalypse business started. He had lost everything.

 

"Cas you saved us in the end, you did good." he paused for a moment, considering the angel's words, "I don't need sleep tonight. I'm fine. Gotta look after Sammy."

 

The nightmares ate away at his sanity each night, he couldn't sleep, not like this. Not in this pathetic,weak state. It had only occurred to him that... He was afraid.  

 

"Cas... Would you mind, if you stayed?"

Shock wouldn't be a strong enough word to convey how Castiel felt. Dean wanted him to stay? After he had messed up time and time again, Dean still wanted Castiel there? A small smile found its way onto Castiel's face. He was relieved he wouldn't have to return to the cold outside world. Though Castiel had never felt cold before, that was the only way he could describe the cruel world that had shunned him. "Yes, Dean, I will stay if you want me to." Castiel nodded woodenly. 

 

He was worried that Dean was making drunken decisions that he would later regret. Humans made silly choices when they had too much to drink. Maybe Dean really didn't want Castiel around after all. Castiel couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that Dean would want someone who had failed him so many times present. "Dean, are you in capable of making rational decisions that you will not regret in your state of intoxication?" 

Though Dean felt an odd yet pleasant relief at Castiel's decision to stay, his statement made him raise a brow. What could he mean by that? He wasn't that drunk was he? Also, what rational decisions could he be talking about. At all the questions running through his mind, Dean was, regrettably, beginning to sober up. 

 

"What do you mean Cas? Of course I can make rational decisions." He took a look at the bottle in his hand and contemplated taking another drink, before deciding against it and sighed deeply before putting it down on the table next to the raggedy couch in which he sat. 

 

"Why don't you sit down or something if you're going to stay." his words were supposed to come out as a request, but rather instead a commanding tone had leaked into them. He kicked himself mentally, what a great way to ask somebody to stay Dean Winchester, just great. No wonder everyone wants to leave you, you utter piece of trash. The voice inside his head was scathing, but true. Dean rubbed his hand down his face and it was taking a lot of resistance not to reach for the whiskey again.

Castiel didn't need to sit. His legs were completely functional and standing didn't cause him any discomfort, but he wasn't going to deny Dean's request. Humans needed to sit, so Dean probably thought his offer was kind. Castiel sat down beside Dean. Dean was slouched and looked relaxed, while Castiel held a more rigid, uncomfortable pose. He had no reason to lay back like Dean. 

 

Castiel glanced to where Sam was sleeping. For as massive as Sam was, he looked like nothing more than a child while asleep. His face was smooth and the blankets were pulled all the way up to his chin. He wished Dean could gain the same comfort from sleeping, and Castiel wondered why he couldn't, but knew better than to ask what kinds of nightmares plagued Dean. What was dreaming like? From what Castiel had gathered, it was vivid, and it must have shoved Dean back into a Hell-filled past. Castiel winced when he imagined what Dean must have gone through. It had taken him far too long to rescue Dean. At the time, Dean's suffering had meant little to him. As long as Dean was brought back to life, Castiel didn't care much about his well being. He hadn't known it at the time, but it was just another instance of him letting Dean down. 

 

"Why will you not sleep? I am sure that I could find someone to cure your nightmares. You dream of hell?" 

Dean's formally semi-relaxed form went rigid at Castiel's mention of hell. He involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut as images that would make a normal man screech in terror flashed through his mind. Alastair and his damned offer of getting off the rack in exchange for torturing, the pain, the fire, the endless dragging on of days that eventually morphed into years. The very thought of hell brought a shiver down his spin and made his muscles clench. It just showed how well he was coping with it. However, in the end, it had been worth every second. His little brother was still breathing and here with him. Dean also had been able to meet Castiel. While the angel was stoic and had the notion of a stick up his ass, he had been good to him and Sam. Rebelled against his own family for them. 

 

"Cas..." Dean oh so desperately wanted to lie, say that he was fine and that hell was not on his mind but, "Yeah... I do. It's okay though. I don't need any help." he attempted to give the angel a reassuring smile, but it just came out looking tired and sad. 

 

Dean felt odd, opening up to Cas. Back then he had just been a dick with wings, but now it was different. He had always been required to be strong for Sammy, not to show any weakness in front the younger. Talking to Castiel was a bit of a reprieve, however awkward he was. 

Castiel shook his head. The kind of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that Dean was suffering required treatment. If Dean was sick, and he knew it, why would he not seek help? When you were sick you went for help, and the fact that Dean would refuse any offer of help was inconceivably odd. "You are not well, Dean." This was his fault. He hadn't rescued Dean faster and he hadn't even known him before his death. "When humans are not well they must seek help." It seemed like such a basic concept, but Castiel knew there was something deeper going on inside Dean, even if he didn't quite understand it himself. "I do have some allies left. I can call one here to heal you. I do not want you to suffer, Dean."  

 

Dean had suffered enough. Of that much, Castiel was sure. It was almost like a sort of sick joke God was playing. Castiel had certainly been through hard times before, but he'd never experienced anything like Dean's life. Or was this Castiel's punishment? For every time Castiel failed him, Dean suffered more. "I am sorry for all you have suffered through. I apologize for my part in it." Castiel's gaze returned to Sam's peaceful face. "I'm not sure if it will help your mood, but Sam is well. I've been cut off from Heaven and my healing powers are gone, but I can still sense things. He will be okay, Dean." 

Dean's shoulders lost a bit of their tension at Castiel's mention of Sam being okay, but his face still retained the creases of agony hell had left upon him as a mark. He chuckled though at Castiel's remark,

 

"I wish it was that easy Cas." Who the hell could he go to, if he said any of what was on his mind to any decent person in their right mind they would send him kicking and screaming to the nuthouse. Angels though, aside from Castiel, Dean did not trust any of them, and he certainly did not want one near his mind especially.

 

"I think I'm good, but it's good that Sammy's okay. I was afraid that dick Zachariah had done some serious damage to him. Speaking of which Cas, how are you feeling?" he attempted to change the subject.

Castiel was not expecting the question. How was he feeling? Dean had been to hell, had tortured and been tortured, had lived a life he hated, and was still wondering if Castiel was alright? It was an almost absurd question. Castiel was not usually comfortable with lying, but he knew Dean was in a rather fragile state. He didn't want to burden Dean with his own problems. "I am well." He nodded curtly. 

 

Castiel was somewhat unfamiliar with when it was appropriate to hug someone and when it wasn't, but he assumed the time was right. Dean looked miserable, and much older than he really was. Hugs were supposed to be a form of comfort, as Castiel understood it. So he leaned over to take Dean into his arms and tried to recall words of comfort that Sam and Dean had shared. "It will be okay, Dean." 

Dean froze for a split second as Castiel's arms wrapped around him and he heard the words of comfort whispered into his. The angel's body against his was surprisingly warm and inviting despite his rather cold appearance, it surprised Dean. The part of him that wanted to chuckle and say no chick flick moments was slowly fading away and he slowly relaxed into his friends arms. He could feel his wall breaking down and his weakness showing through as he shed a tear, then a few more. 

 

"Dammit." he whispered as his voice cracked and he could feel his world crumbling around him with only Castiel as support, "Dammit Cas." he repeated over many seconds. He was supposed to be strong, not some sniveling child crying in his friends arms. 

Dammit Cas? Castiel immediately thought it was an insult, but quickly realized that Dean didn't mean it that way. He wasn't sure how long he was supposed to hold Dean in a hug. He hadn't paid attention to the length of time that humans hugged. Castiel figured that Dean would pull away at the right moment. 

 

Castiel stared at the closed window behind Dean. He didn't want to see Dean's tear-streaked face. It was his fault Dean was crying. Dean would never admit that Castiel had caused much of his suffering, but it was true. If he had just been a little bit faster, he could have saved Dean a lot of pain. If he hadn't been so self-absorbed. Castiel tried to think of what to say. That Dean was hurting was obvious, but if he refused healing, what else could Castiel do for him? "Dean, I am sorry for...everything. I hope that things will be okay. It is okay to cry. I have seen many humans cry and it is not a sign of weakness." 

Dean shook in Castiel's arms, before wrapping his arms around him as his body began to sob softly. This was everything he tried not to be, he needed to be strong and there for everyone. He needed to be a hero. For Sammy, for the world as shit hit the fan. But yet here he was, crying in an angel's arms. Cas was trying to reassure him, by saying crying is not considered weakness, but Dean knew better.

 

"Cas... It's not," he tried to catch his breath, "It's not your fault. None of it is. It's me, it's all me. I'm sorry, I'm so useless and I've let everyone down. Sammy, my dad, you and the whole goddamn earth. I wasn't strong enough to resist Alastair, I hurt people. I wasn't strong enough to help Sammy in time, now Lucifer is on the loose. I'm pathetic and you should forget everything to do with me. You're worth so much more than I am." Dean buried his face in Castiel's coat, he could feel the fabric, moist with his tears, under his cheek. 

 

"Just forget anything I said... I'm sorry." he mumbled.

Castiel wasn't quite sure how to reply. Dean couldn't possibly believe that he had caused so much harm after all of the good he'd done. Even before he had met Dean, Castiel had heard the stories about him. He was a hero who fought monsters and protected people. No one had ever described him the way he described himself. Castiel had a feeling if he shared that information Dean would just deny it. 

 

Castiel looked down at Dean's quivering body. What could he say to stop it? There had to be something he could do to help Dean. "Dean, you cannot feel this way." Even though Dean wasn't looking, Castiel nodded enthusiastically. "You are a good man, Dean. I have met many humans and most are cruel and fearful. You are special. You protect life instead of taking it. I have not spoken to him, but I'm sure God is pleased with you." 

Dean couldn't resist a chuckle at Castiel's words, they were just too stubborn. He inwardly felt good about the angel's change of heart, even if it had cost him his family. Castiel had become a good friend to him, and honestly at the moment, he was the only thing keeping him from falling into the black and grey pit that was where his heart used to be. Dean could never talk to anyone like he had talked to Castiel lately. Sure he was close with Sam, but he could never admit weakness to his brother when he was supposed to protect him. 

 

"Then where is he...?" Dean could not hide the broken tone in his voice, "If he's so pleased with me, and I have some kind of purpose then why did all this happen?" He shook his head, "He's not lifted a damn finger to help." For the moment, Dean had let go, and was speaking in a whisper, his voice held no real malice in it. 

 

"Cas I'm tired..." Dean changed the subject after a moment's silence, yet he made no move to release himself from Castiel's arms. He sounded like a petulant child now.

Castiel wished he could answer Dean's question. There were a lot of questions he'd like the ask his father himself. "I don't know, Dean." We're supposed to have faith, Castiel reminded himself. Sometimes, though, that didn't feel like enough. He wanted proof and concrete answers, but he would never get them. 

 

The answer to Dean's other statement was much easier to come up with. "If you are tired, then sleep." It was logical, but Castiel knew it went deeper than that. Dean was afraid to sleep, even when he was utterly exhausted. It would remove the last of the alcohol's effects, and with all the danger Dean was thrusting himself in the middle of, he needed to be in total control of himself. 

 

Castiel had watched a few movies with the Winchesters. Mostly though, he'd seen them by himself. While the boys preferred action-packed movies, Castiel rather enjoyed the softer movies. He tried to draw information from there. He'd noticed in quite a few movies that humans seemed to feel safer in numbers. "You can sleep here, Dean. You don't have to move to a bed. I will protect you." 

At this point, Dean had dropped his act and was now acting upon what he felt. He still did not move from Castiel's arms, but instead settled into a more comfortable position upon the dingy couch with his dead against the other's chest. He could feel Castiel's soft breathing and the rise and fall of his chest, the beating of Jimmy Novak's heart that seem to teem with the grace Castiel had given to it. The grace that was Castiel. He wondered if Jimmy was still in there, watching what was happening as of now. 

 

"Thank you Cas." Dean whispered, letting his eyes begin to drift close, letting the tension slowly melt away from his body. He was sure to have a hangover and Sam would question the position that they were in, but right now Dean not seem to care, and that surprised him. He only hoped that nightmares would keep themselves at bay this night, that the presence of the very angel that saved him from the damned place, would aid in their expulsion.

 

"I owe you one..." and those were his final words before the blackness of sleep claimed him.

Castiel didn't quite experience boredom. He was trained in not feeling that way, and truthfully, with Dean's warm, sleeping figure pressed against him, Castiel had no desire to move anyway. He could pinpoint the exact moment Dean transitioned into sleep even with the assistance of his angelic powers. His head slipped down an inch and his face softened. The constant stress that had caused his face to scrunch up faded, and suddenly he looked as much like a child as Sam did. There was something calming about the way Dean breathed. Slow, quiet breaths that caused him to shift ever so slightly with each iteration. Castiel couldn't sleep, but the peaceful atmosphere lulled him into a sort of dreamy state. Dean occasionally made soft groans while he slept, but he never strayed from Castiel's arms. Castiel wouldn't spy on Dean's dreams, but the tiny smile on his face was enough proof that the angel's presence had chased away Dean's demons. It was a relief to know that even in some small way, Castiel had repaid Dean. Dean deserved a lot more than a good night's sleep and the protection of a damaged angel, but it was all Castiel could give.

Dean was unused to having pleasant dreams, most dreams were either of hell, or the night that Sam had died in his arms. This time however, he was in a park by a lake, there were no other people besides himself and the atmosphere was pleasant. There was a slight breeze that tossed his hair slightly and the sun warmed his face. There was the soft chirp of birds and the light buzzing of insects that seemed to comfort him thoroughly. He attempted to revel in it as much as he could as a occasion such as this would probably not happen again for a while, but he tried to not to think of that, and pushed all thoughts of hell from his mind to enjoy this moment he was blessed with.

 

But the solitude grew old after some time, as much as he didn't want angels poking around in his head, company from Castiel would have been nice. He tried not to complain however. He could feel Castiel's grace present within his mind, keeping the hellish memories from taking over him. He smiled softly to himself, and made a mental note to thank Cas the following morning when he saw him. 

The faintest rays of light began to trickle into the room around the edges of the curtains. It was early, and Castiel knew the time instinctively. It was exactly 5:34 in the morning. Soon, Sam and Dean would be awake again, and the wonderfully peaceful night Castiel had experienced would be gone. Just another memory to add to his extensive collection. Castiel slowly ran a hand through Dean's hair. He wished he could freeze time for just a little while. He hated the thought of going back into a world that revolved around fighting and pain. When people like the Winchesters existed, why did anyone need to fight? Despite their tough exteriors, Castiel knew that inside they were doves. They wouldn't hurt a soul if they didn't have to. 

 

"I am truly sorry, Dean," He murmured to the sleeping man curled up in his lap. "I will try to protect you and Sam for as long as I can."