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Dean’s no stranger to nightmares.
They started after their mom died. Visions of fire and of running as fast as he can while clutching Sam play through his mind night after night.
It gets worse when he learns how to hunt, when all of the monsters he’s imagined are tangible and can hurt him.
They taper off gradually, but that might be from the amount of whiskey he drinks before going to bed. They flare up after bad hunts and when Sam’s away at college. The things he’s seen, the things he’s done, well, he deserves them.
After hell, the nightmares come back, fast and furious. He wakes up screaming or with his throat scratchy when he hasn’t woken himself up by the time their alarm goes off. Sam doesn’t try to wake him up anymore, not after the fifth time Dean punched him in a night.
Dean tries not to notice when Sam purposefully requests the motel room on the end, or stuffs a towel in the crack below the door.
These nights make his previous nightmares pale in comparison. No longer does he carry Sam away from a burning house, now he just tortures him on a rack with Alistair grinning next to him.
Sometimes he’s on the rack himself, and Sam tortures him back. Anyone he’s ever known gets a go at him too, but no matter how much he begs or pleads or swears to torture other souls, they don’t let him go.
He starts getting drunk again before he sleeps, and when that doesn’t help, he doesn’t sleep until it's absolutely necessary. He knows that it’s dangerous, and that he puts Sam at risk with dulled reflexes, but when he’s exhausted, the nightmares don’t always come.
It’s worse when he sees Cas. In his flashbacks, he longs to see the flashes of light where the angel fought to free him in the distance. In his nightmares, when Cas reaches him, he looks him up and down, and turns away.
Dean is the Righteous Man, but he doesn’t deserve to be saved.
Cas’s words echo in his head. “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell, I can throw you back in.”
It gets worse as his friendship with Cas grows. His nightmares don’t plague him as much, but when they show up, it breaks him. There are only so many times he can be judged to be worthless by an angel.
He’s back in hell, and it’s Sam’s turn to torture him again. “You know, Dean,” Sam says conversationally. “This really is all your fault. If you’d found me faster a year ago, I wouldn’t have died while you just stood there.” He selects a scalpel from the tray and waves it in front of Dean’s face. “You’re supposed to keep me safe, but you do a piss-poor job at it.”
When Dean can’t respond through his gag, Sam shrugs and leans forward to begin slicing, before a light shines through him and he drops.
Castiel, Angel of the Lord, has arrived.
He just stares at Dean for a moment, and Dean drops his gaze. He can’t look the angel in the eye.
Castiel’s angel blade lifts his chin up, and the anger in his eyes nearly stops Dean’s heart.
“Dean Winchester. I went to all the trouble of getting you out of hell, and you repay me by refusing to help heaven,” the angel chides him.
Dean tries to explain, but the gag muffles his response. He attempts to apologize, beg, and grovel, but Castiel stands impassively, until Dean sags backwards, out of breath and in pain. Castiel hasn’t healed him, and makes no move to.
“You know, I was just going to leave you, but you’re already tied up for me. I might as well have some fun, and make this trip worth it,” Castiel says with a sneer.
Dean’s eyes widen as the angel’s meaning sinks in, and his heart sinks as Castiel rolls up his sleeves. He cuts a path with the blade down Dean’s neck, across his chest, and over to his shoulder where his handprint would have gone. With a frown, he marks an x over the spot, cutting deep through muscle.
Dean screams through the gag, but Castiel rolls his eyes at the sound and flicks his wrist, crushing Dean’s ribcage and puncturing his lungs with splinters of bone.
Dean can barely speak, but he wheezes out a prayer. “Please, Castiel, don’t do this.” His vision goes dark for a second before he gets revived.
Castiel smirks. “Why wouldn’t I? Your soul is already blackened and ripped to shreds.” He pauses and tilts his head. “ I think I’ll just make sure your body matches it, and then we’ll see how you’re doing in a few years. Maybe you’ll be cooperative then.”
“Please, Castiel, please!” Dean begs. He feels a burning in his shoulder and closes his eyes, trying to retreat to the place in his head where it doesn’t hurt as much, and he can block out the world.
“Dean.” A voice filters through his consciousness. “Dean!” Once it registers, Dean sits upright, fumbling for his gun in the dark before freezing.
His shoulder still hurts.
“Dean!” The lights flicker on in the room, and Cas is sitting on the bed next to him, arm outstretched, with his hand a few inches away from his shoulder.
Dean jumps out of the bed, looking over Cas’s head to see that Sam is still asleep, dead to the world, before bringing his gaze back to Cas.
“What’s going on?” He asks harshly, his voice roughened from screaming. “The hell was that?”
“You were having a nightmare,” Cas replied softly, dropping his eyes down to the bedspread. “You called out for me.”
“Yeah, well.” Dean puts the gun down on the nightstand. “Dreaming about being tortured in hell by someone is one way I’ll scream their name.” It’s probably a bad idea to flirt with an angel, but he’s too tired to care.
“Also, you threatening to throw me back into the pit a while ago didn’t help.” He sits down on the bed and turns to face Cas. “Do you mind fixing my shoulder?”
Cas places his hand over the handprint on Dean’s shoulder, and the burning feeling fades within a second. He’s silent for a moment before speaking. “I was trying to use my grace to wake you. I called your name and shook you, but you didn’t wake.”
Dean sighs. “Yeah, I’m dead tired.” He rubs his jaw. “Truth is, I haven’t been sleeping much, and when I do, I go to sleep drunk. It’s the best chance I have of not having a nightmare, and Sam needs all the sleep he can get without me screaming.”
“I put him to sleep,” Cas answers the unasked question. “We can speak as loudly as you’d like.”
Dean nods, and the room fades into quiet before Cas speaks again.
“Dean, that night, when I said I’d throw you back into hell, I didn’t mean it.”
“Don’t worry, dude. You don’t have to spare my feelings. I’d want to throw me into hell too,” Dean says with a tight smile. “Besides, you got me out in the first place, I owe you. You’re busy dealing with heaven, I get it.”
“Dean.” Cas grabs his shoulder again. “Enough.”
Not for the first time, Dean is captivated by just how blue Cas’s eyes are.
“I didn’t mean to be the cause of your nightmares, and I’m not going to throw you back into hell. Listen to me, and listen well. You deserved to be saved, and if I needed to go back into hell and raise you up again, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and in that moment, he believes what he’s hearing. “Okay, Cas.” He wipes at his eye before a tear can form. “Okay.”
Cas nods, but keeps his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “If you’d like, I can put you back to sleep with my grace. You won’t have any nightmares then. You can send out a prayer, and I will come every night when you call.”
Dean inhales shakily. “Yeah, Cas. That sounds great. But, tonight, look, I know I’ve been coming on to you a bit over the past few weeks, and I know that you’re an angel and you don’t do that, but, could you hold me tonight while I fall asleep?”
Cas freezes for a second, so Dean rambles on. “If it bothers you, you don’t have to do it for long. Actually, you know what, forget it, it’s fine. Just knock me out, I’ll call for you tomorrow night.”
He’s stopped in the middle of his talking when Cas’s arms wrap around him in a hug.
“I’m here for you, Dean. I’ll hold you for as long as you wish.”
The gravelly voice sends a rumble through Dean’s chest and he lets out a slow breath and hugs back. After a minute, he slides out of Cas’s embrace to scoot under the covers and pull Cas under too.
He turns on his side and moves forward into Cas’s arms again, burying his face in the angel’s solid chest.
“Thank you,” he whispers. It’s been too long since he’s felt safe in someone’s arms. The arms tighten around him in response, and he remembers that Cas can read minds, but that’s the least of his worries now.
He falls slowly back to sleep, wanting to savor the comfort, and the last thing he feels are lips brushing over his forehead.
The next night, he calls for Cas once Sam is asleep. He arrives within seconds, so Dean falls asleep in his angel’s arms with the whisper of a kiss on his cheek.
The night after that, he lets Cas look into his mind, and falls asleep with his lips still tingling from their first kiss.