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Usually, Cas would just shuffle a little bit and try to make his pillow as comfortable as necessary and then he proceeds to close his eyes and wander through his mind without waking Dean up. It’s only been a few weeks when Dean decided that Cas should just sleep beside him because it’s ridiculous that he gets his own room in the bunker. “Cas, you’re an angel. You don’t need sleep. Obviously, you don’t need a bedroom." But of course, Dean knew that wasn’t the reason why he wanted Cas in his bed. Oblivious to that, Cas agreed.
It was awkward at first since Cas rarely had to lie down on a mattress and now, it’s a whole new bloody experience because a person will be sleeping next to him. He also had to practice not to be creepy while he watched Dean and his chest as it slowly rises and falls, and how his face is perfectly at peace and on some nights, he’s snoring a little bit.
On the first week of sleeping beside each other, Cas forgot that humans can feel when they’re being watched, especially Dean. Cas inched his face closer because he wondered over Dean’s freckles and lashes and dear God, the curve of his nose. Dean’s eyes shot open and the last thing he saw was widened blue eyes before Cas fell off the bed.
“Cas, don’t stare at me while I’m sleeping,” Dean groaned, as he turned his back and returned to sleep.
“I don’t really know what else to do,” Cas mumbled as he lied back down.
Cas decided that he would still try to rest even if he didn’t need it that much, or the way humans did. He found out that he could close his eyes and just be engulfed by thoughts and memories and it would occupy him enough that it feels like sleeping but without actually detaching from reality. It was sort of like dreaming. It was plunging through the realm of unconsciousness but still having a firm grip on the shore because Cas doesn’t know how to swim in the deep yet.
He doesn’t know that his vessel gets affected by his daydreaming—or night dreaming—because he would suddenly feel his foot twitching or his fists clenching. It’s usually because his mind crosses over the Purgatory memories and the whole thing when he swallowed Leviathans and he exploded with a snap of Lucifer’s fingers and when he tried to be God but the he killed a lot of his brothers and sisters. They’re nightmares, as Dean explained in the morning. It bothered Cas often enough that he didn’t feel like doing the whole comatose like state of resting.
But then, his conscience would argue, who would sleep beside Dean?
So, Cas stayed and continued to do what he did when the night and Dean’s eyelids fell.
Tonight was a rougher than usual, though.
Sam taught Cas how to use earphones and an iPod because they might help him sleep and as he listened to birds chirping through his buds, he drifted off to dream land. It was all good because of the birds and the bees buzzing over bright flowers. He was thinking about Australia and sunny beaches when the iPod ceased to produce any more sounds. Cas didn’t do anything about it. He was comfortable in his position and his thoughts were lovely and he felt Dean’s knuckles grazing his fingers. He latched onto it and he was at peace.
But then as the silence ensued, his head started showing mental pictures he didn’t like and then slowly, it became a full on slide show of horrible things. The slaughter he did to the garrison and how insanely powerful he felt while he did that; the confusion in their eyes and thick air that was in between when their graces were drained. Cas has done many grotesque actions but what he despised the most is when there was bloodshed and when it was because of him.
He hadn’t noticed that he was tossing and turning over and over. Their bed wasn’t large; Cas just squeezed his way in so that they would fit. The bed rocked and creaked because Cas was too deep in his head and he hadn’t known that he was moving. Dean was violently pulled away from slumber when he felt Cas stirring heavily beside him. Also, Cas pulled his hand away and Dean didn’t appreciate the loss of contact.
Dean sat up and watched as Cas’ jaw tightened and as his eyebrows met. Nightmares, he thought. Dean knew how Cas felt since he had his own dark thoughts crouching near. It was bad, that feeling of repetitive guilt. He didn’t want Cas to feel that. He’s been in too much, all of them have. Dean ran a hand over his tired face and bravely wrapped an arm around Cas and pulled him tight to his chest.
Cas woke up and saw Dean’s bicep over him and though he couldn’t explain why, his pumping heart calmed down when Dean hugged him. Confused, he tried to turn and look at Dean. “What are you doing?”
“Shhhh, shut up.” Dean rested his head on Cas’ nape and snuggled. “Go back to your subconscious dreaming thing.”
Cas exhaled. He knew not to argue (also, what Dean did felt nice and it saved him from reliving all the horrors he had done). He replayed the nature sounds on his iPod and closed his eyes. Dean’s soft snores tickled the back of his neck and boy, did he like 2 am and cuddling.