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Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood.
(The first few times it happened, Dean asked questions, “what” and “how” and “why,” but Cas didn’t have the answers. He still doesn’t; neither of them do. Sam probably would, but out of some silent understanding neither of them tell him. It’s not that they’re scared of what he’ll think, but it’s something that’s become so personal, so goddamn intimate that Dean couldn’t bear to part with it, and he doesn’t think Cas could, either.)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood. It’s gotten to the point where Dean starts awake whenever Cas does.
"It happened again?" he asks, and Cas nods.
(They thought, at first, it had something to do with being a fallen angel, but they’ve met dozens of angels since the Fall and none of them wake up at midnight with blood leaking from their pores.)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood. He’s usually crying. Dean wraps him in the bedsheets - which are a lost cause anyway - and helps him walk down the hall to the bathroom.
Usually by the time Dean turns on the old yellow light, Cas has wiped the tears from his eyes. Dean turns the shower on as hot as it will go and steps in with him.
(It turned out that most bleeding-related lore is focused on stigmata, but Cas crossed that one off the list right away. “Even if I still believe in a God,” he said, “I don’t think He would honor me by giving me His Son’s wounds.”)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood. Once they’re in the shower, Dean starts to wash his hair. The only shampoo they have is Sam’s flowery stuff, but neither of them mind it much anymore. Cas prefers the apple kind, so that’s what Dean always buys in the store.
He starts by combing it through Cas’s hair, which tangles in his hands, all clotted in blood. It takes almost half a bottle to get all the blood out, and by the time they’re done a maze of rivulets stands out on Cas’s back.
(Sometimes in Hell, Dean would sweat blood. He never brought this up.)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood. As he cleans Cas’s back, Dean also tries to massage the knots out of it. Sometimes, when his hands hit a particularly tense area, Cas lets out a little groan that makes Dean weak in the knees. If Cas is having a good night, he chuckles at Dean’s reaction.
(In his worst moments, Dean kept remembering Sam during the trials, the way he got weaker and weaker. Cas told him that he didn’t need to worry, that this was different, but that didn’t stop him from being afraid.)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood. Dean always saves washing his feet for last. By the time he’s done with the rest of Cas’s body, so much water has flooded over his feet that they’re practically clean anyway, but Dean always spends time with a fresh washcloth. He brings it up and around the heel, strokes little circles around the ankle. He washes each toe individually, scratching crusted blood out from under the nails. He even uses a special foot lotion that Jody recommended, kneads it into the hard pads on the bottom of Cas’s feet.
By the time they’re done, Cas practically collapses in Dean’s arms. “I’m tired,” he murmurs into Dean’s shoulder. “Are you tired?”
More often than not, two in the morning finds them walking bridal-style down the hallway, still damp from the shower. Sam will find water droplets when he wakes up for his morning run, and when he peeks in at Dean and Cas’s room they’re so tangled together he can’t tell whose feet are whose. He always smiles, relieved that those two finally have some peace.
(It was awful, at first, the bleeding, but they’ve gotten used to it. It’s more intimate than hunting, even though their instincts still slot together and work instinctively. It’s more powerful than kissing, even though they’re still in close proximity. It’s even better than sex, though Dean never admits it to himself, because it’s not about feeding an urge, it’s about creating one.)
Some nights, Cas wakes up covered in blood, but he always goes back to bed clean.