Work Text:
Dean woke with a start, sucking in a lungful of air like he'd been previously dead. Had he been? Where was he?
He pushed himself up on quivering arms, pins and needles rushing up to the surface of his skin. He was laying in a field. The long grass drooped like it was craving water, curling over his legs as if it had grown while he laid there. A thick bank of fog surrounded him on all sides. It felt like he was in a white vacuum of space, the only things in existence being him, the grass, and the little pill bug he saw scurrying past his pantleg in the dirt. He reached out an arm and the air felt thick, bending around him like magnetic resistance.
What am I doing here? How did I get here?
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his palms into them. He could not make himself remember how he'd gotten here. The answer was flitting around in the peripherals of his mind like a moth. He checked himself over. Boots. Jeans. Black t-shirt. Green jacket. Seemed like everything was where it was meant to be. All Dean. It checked out.
He looked around. There was no sound. It was so quiet all he could hear was his own breathing and the rushing of the blood in his ears.
"Sam?" he called out.
His voice drifted off into the fog and was gone. The silence crowded back in.
"Cas?"
Cas. His thoughts crashed to a halt as his heart twisted in his chest. Why did the thought of the angel wring his guts with pain? Was he okay? His eyebrows drew together as he tried to remember. He saw flashes of images, but their meaning danced away from him.
Tearful blue eyes. A black wall of sludge. A bloody handprint.
He scrambled to his feet.
"Cas!" he called out more desperately.
The fog parted. It was an unnatural movement, like the Moses of air condensation. He hesitated, but then walked down the strange pathway. What else was he going to do, stumble blindly through the wall of fog and hope for the best? Even if this felt like a trap, at least he could see where he was putting his feet. It felt like several minutes passed as he walked, but his concept of time was a little wonky. Suddenly, the walls on either side of him widened, and he was in another grassy clearing.
There were broken stone structures scattered around, like ruins of some kind. Some were a little taller than him and were covered in inscriptions in no language he recognized. And there was Castiel. He was facing away from Dean, his trenchcoat soaked with condensation from the grass along the bottom hem. He was stacking towers of rocks, precarious things that looked like they might topple over at any second.
"Cas, there you are," Dean called as he started toward him.
Cas paused, but didn't turn. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
Dean tried to move around to face him, but Cas turned away and started working on a different tower of stone pieces.
"Cas, what are you doing man? What is this place?"
"No. No. I can fix it," Cas said quietly.
His hands shook as they hovered around an especially unbalanced stone.
"I can fix it," he said again.
Dean reached out cautiously, his fingers a mere millimeter from brushing the back of Cas' coat. A rock to their right fell and hit the ground with a dull thud, and then the whole tower crumbled.
"Fuck," Cas shouted.
Dean jerked back, unused to hearing his angelic friend curse. Cas dropped to his knees by the pile of rocks.
"It will never be what it once was," he whispered.
And the fog swirled in to claim them, rushing into Dean's nose and mouth and choking him. Everything was white for several long minutes and Dean couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. It vanished all at once and he was dropped unceremoniously onto black pavement.
"Son of a bitch," he growled, rubbing at his wrist where it had struck the ground.
He crouched on his knees in the middle of a road. Grass and trees lined the sides and it stretched off into the darkness in either direction. Crickets and cicadas hummed for miles around. There were no stars in the sky and he could barely see. Dean stood slowly.
"Cas?" he called hesitantly.
He could see a streetlight far to his right, a figure standing under it at the edge of the road. He couldn't make out who it was, but he started walking toward them. As he drew closer, there was no mistaking the trenchcoat. He moved faster, jogging and keeping his eyes fixed on his friend in case he melted away again.
"Cas," he said as he reached the last few feet.
Cas was standing stiffly under the light. He had a phone clenched in his hand and tears were running down his face, but he didn't turn to look at Dean. Dean positioned himself right in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders. Cas seemed to look right through him.
"Hey, hey buddy, c'mon," he pleaded. "I'm getting really freaked out. I don't know what's going on. Please look at me."
His heart pounded in his chest and it skipped a beat when Cas blinked and his eyes seemed to focus in on Dean's face.
"I'm waiting," Cas said.
"For what?" Dean asked.
"For you to call," Cas replied.
"I'm right here, man," Dean said. "What's happening?"
"You aren't really you," Cas sighed, his eyes leaving Dean's face and drifting down to his chest. "I'm not very sure that anything is real anymore."
Dean's eyes swept back and forth between Cas'. He put a hand under his chin and tilted it up so he was forced to look him in the eyes again.
"I'm here," Dean said. "I'm real."
Fresh tears poured down Cas' cheeks and Dean tried to wipe them away, but Castiel pulled out of his grip and stepped back. Outside of the cone of light, he was shrouded in shadow. Six glowing blue eyes hovered around his face, most of them barely open. Dean reached for him again, but he vanished backwards into the darkness, as if it had swallowed him up.
"Cas!" Dean cried out. "Fuck!"
More flashes of black sludge pooled behind Dean's eyes. It wrapped a tendril around Cas' smiling mouth and pulled him away. Now, it swallowed Dean up too.
He woke up this time on a motel bed. He was fully clothed and on top of the yellow, floral covers. He sat up like a shot. Gray light poured through the windows and the tv buzzed with static. He didn't hesitate in scrambling up and ripping the door open. An endless parking lot stretched before him. No cars. No road signs. No nothing but cracked pavement and gray sky. He kicked the doorframe and groaned in frustration.
His mind was reeling, trying to process the last two places he'd been, the strange way Cas was acting. And why the fuck couldn't he remember anything? He walked back inside and sat down on the bed, dropping his face into his shaking hands.
Get it together, Winchester. Calm down. Think.
He tried to pinpoint the exact last thing he remembered, but even the images in his mind seemed to distort. He tried to remember the last thing he said to Sam. An image of a disheveled table, covered with books and scrolls in the bunker library came to him. Sam was standing on the other end of the table, gesturing excitedly, but Dean couldn't hear anything that he was saying. Dean tried, physically straining to hear.
"…dreams… get him out…"
Dean opened his eyes in the motel room. The clock by bedside table blinked '00:00'.
Dreams. This certainly felt like a dream that he was in right now. He looked down at his hands. They seemed real enough. He pinched himself in the face. Ouch. Yeah, felt real enough.
Get him out? Get Cas out? He was certainly going to try. But where the fuck were they?
Dean sighed out in exasperation. He jumped as a car door slammed. Standing up, he was about to go look out the open door when Sam walked through it.
"Sam!" he exclaimed. "Thank god, what the hell is going on?"
Sam walked right past him, not even acting as if he'd seen him at all. Cas walked in behind him. His eyes ghosted over Dean, his brow furrowing slightly.
"We can track his phone up to the point where he turned it off," Sam was saying behind him.
Dean turned to look at him. His brother was sitting on the bed where he'd just been, typing at a laptop keyboard.
"Hello-o," Dean said, waving his hand in front of Sam's face.
No reaction whatsoever.
"What if it's too late?" Cas asked, coming to stand beside Sam and look over his shoulder.
"At least it would be a place to start," Sam sighed. "Here, got it. Sioux Falls."
"Bobby's?" Cas asked.
"Seems likely," Sam said. "I don't know why though."
"Can you call him?" Cas asked.
"Yeah, let's leave now while I do though," Sam said, throwing his laptop into a backpack that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Dean followed them outside, where the impala was now parked just outside the door.
"Guys? Can you hear me?" he said, raising his voice.
Sam was already sliding into the driver's seat, but Cas paused in the open door. He acted like he was about to turn around, but then he stooped and got in the car. Dean growled and pulled open the back door, which he was glad to see he could do. So it wasn't like he was a ghost or something. As they started moving, Dean watched Cas struggle not to look in the rearview. There was no scenery, just more endless gray.
"Cas," Dean said. "Castiel, oh mighty angel of the lord, please answer me."
Cas' brow furrowed and he closed his eyes for a minute before kind of aggressively turning the radio on. More static hissed out through the speakers. There was no way he couldn't hear Dean. At least he seemed more mentally with it this time. He was just purposely blocking Dean out.
Dean leaned forward between the seats, Sam continuing to totally ignore him.
"Cas. CasCasCas," he pestered. "I know you can hear me. Why won't you talk to me?"
"You. Aren't. Him." Castiel growled, refusing to look at him even though he was inches from his face.
"Okay, so what am I then?" Dean asked, his irritation starting to bleed into his voice.
"An illusion. A cruel trick," Cas whispered.
Before Dean could think of what to say, time warped again and they were pulling into Bobby's scrapyard. Bobby was standing on the porch with a shotgun, waving frantically, looking very much alive. Dean remembered enough to know that Bobby had died a while ago.
"Come on! I have him in the basement!" Bobby shouted.
Dean followed Sam and Cas as they ran into the house after Bobby and down the stairs to his panic room. Sam approached the door carefully, peering in through the grated opening. A shotgun cocked behind them, and they all spun to see a sheen of black sliding down over Bobby's eyes.
"Gotcha," he hissed, his mouth a twisted sneer.
He pulled the trigger and Sam's strangled shout of "no" was cut off as the buckshot slammed him into the iron door. He crumpled to the floor and Cas reached out an open palm and flung Bobby against the far wall. His blue eyes were blazing with terror and rage.
"Too late, lover-boy," the demon in Bobby laughed.
His eyes flashed white as Cas smote the demon and then Bobby fell to the ground too, motionless. Cas spun and rushed to Sam. He was covered in blood and his eyes were half open and sightless.
"No," Cas whispered, voice catching in his throat. "Sam."
Dean stood frozen, watching the whole thing. His heart was beating in his throat, but he had enough wherewithal about him now to know that wasn't really Sam. Still, it didn't make it any easier to look at. The iron door creaked open and Cas scrambled to his feet and shoved through it. Inside, he fell to his knees. Another version of Dean lay twisted on the floor. The way his body looked would make the most seasoned detective vomit. Cas let out a choked sob and cradled the other Dean's head in his hands.
"No more," he pleaded quietly. "Please, let me rest."
Dean stepped up behind him and touched his shoulder. Cas turned his glistening eyes up to him.
"What do you want me to say?" he said. "You've already taken everything from me. Why must you torture me too?"
"Cas, listen to me," Dean said, kneeling beside him and grabbing him under the arm, trying to pull him away from the dead version of himself on the floor. "I can't remember what's going on. But I think these are dreams. We have to figure out how to get out of here."
Cas squinted at him in confusion.
"What is this? I don't understand what you want," he growled angrily.
"I want you to believe that it's really me," Dean begged. "Please."
Cas searched his face for a moment, and then looked at the dead Dean. He reached out and ran a hand through its bloody hair gently.
"I can't bear to see you die again…" Cas whispered. "Real or not. I can't tell the difference anymore."
The air shimmered, and the blackness closed in again.
Dean was flailing in deep water, his feet kicking for some kind of solid ground but hitting nothing. He could feel the weight of it dragging at his clothes, his heavy boots acting like an anchor. He could see lights in the distance and started to struggle toward them. He swallowed a disgusting amount of salt water trying to keep his face above the water. Finally, the toe of his boot hit sand. He stumbled through the shallows, dragging himself onto a sandy shore as waves crashed at his back. He held himself up on his hands and knees and tried to cough the ocean out of his chest.
Turning his head, he saw Cas sitting a few yards down the dark beach. The trenchcoat and suit jacket were gone, leaving him in just the white dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and slacks. His dark hair whipped about in the ocean breeze and he stared into the empty blackness over the ocean. There were stars this time, but they seemed strangely… close. Dean could almost hear them humming. An empty, silent boardwalk glowed behind them.
Dean stumbled over to Cas, the icy water soaking him to the bone. He forced himself not to touch him. That always seemed to result in things falling apart. He sat down beside him, droplets from his hair running down his nose and cheeks. He propped his arms up on his knees and sighed. Cas didn't acknowledge him. Flashing colored lights from the boardwalk illuminated half his face, but his eyes looked dull. The salty air stung Dean's cheeks, little flecks of sand whipping around in the wind. The waves crashed just in front of them and then sucked back out in a rush, dragging little fragments of shells with them.
He closed his eyes again, willing his stupid brain to supply him with some kind of fucking hint at what was going on here. But oh-so-helpfully, he continued to come up with nothing. He was beginning to shake with the cold of the water and the night air slicing through his clothes.
"Cas…" he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I don’t know what kind of monster has got my head all screwed up like this, but I'm trying. I'm trying to get us out of here."
The angel remained fixated on the line of the horizon. Dean sighed. He tried to catalog what he did know.
This is most likely a dream.
Cas thinks I'm an illusion.
I'm freaking cold.
He looked at Cas. The lights danced across his hair like an oil slick. If he looked at him out of his peripherals, he could almost see the glowing eyes.
Cas is my best friend.
He's in pain, and I want it to stop.
I love him.
…I've always loved him.
Does he- does he love me back?
No. There's no way. He's an angel, and all I've done is hurt him.
But why do I feel like he's told me already?
And like a wave crashing over his head, it all comes back.
"I love you. Goodbye, Dean."
The Empty reaching out, like sickly black wings, taking the love of his life away from him. Sitting on that dungeon floor with tears running down his face until he couldn't breathe, his lungs burning with every gasp. Pulling himself up when his phone wouldn't stop ringing with Sam's name, wiping the tears away, and working day and night to face God. To put an end to it. The sad and worried looks that Sam and Jack would not stop directing at him, even after they'd won. The endless nights pouring over research in the library, sleeping with his face on a book, until finally. Finally. They found something that might work. It was so ridiculously simple, that Dean had initially laughed at the idea when Sam proposed it. It had even been something they'd done before. African Dream Root. Jack had told them that the Empty kept it's 'residents' subdued by subjecting them to endless sleep. Which also meant endless dreams.
They had to wake him up. Dean would infiltrate his dreams and wake him up. And then Jack would try to reach in and pull him out while the Empty was upset by it. Jack was confident he would be strong enough to get Cas out, but he would have to leave his grace behind. He'd be human. A sacrifice they all agreed was more than worth it. They'd acquired the root only days later, and then it was go time. Dean refused to wait any longer. It had been seven long weeks without his best friend. He'd laid down on the dungeon floor with Jack at his head, his fingers on Dean's temples, and Sam sitting at his side, mostly for moral support. And that was it. Lights out. But his dazed state waking up in Cas' dreamscape had disoriented him, made him forget why he was there.
He knew now. He remembered now. He didn't even realize he was crying until he was forced to suck in a gasping breath. Cas' face twitched ever so slightly toward him.
"I'm sorry," he croaked out. "I'm so sorry, Cas."
The angel didn't respond. He clearly thought this was another tactic of the Empty meant to torment him.
"I remember now. I remember what you said to me," Dean said.
Another twitch of movement. He was fighting with himself.
"You've gotta come home with me, man. You've gotta wake up. I need you. You're my best friend," Dean pleaded.
Cas turned his head slowly and looked at Dean. Dean met his eyes. The pain in them was all-consuming. Cas reached out a shaking hand and rested it gently on Dean's cheek, wiping at the salty water and the salty tears.
"I can't… I can't risk having hope," Cas whispered. "It will break me all over again."
"This time it won't," Dean promised. "I swear."
He tried to reach for Cas, but he jerked away and scrambled to his feet. He shook his head slowly, backed away a few steps, and then started running away down the beach.
"Cas!" Dean cried. "Wait, stop!"
He started to run after him, but a shadow rising up against the horizon to his left caused him to falter. He turned to look at it, and saw a massive wave rapidly gaining height.
"Fuck," he gasped.
It rushed at him horribly fast, and terrifyingly slow all at once. He backed up one, two, three steps, and then it started its descent. He fell to his knees in front of if, knowing there was no use trying to escape. This was Cas shutting him up. This was Cas trying to run into the next dream to get away from him.
"Castiel, please," Dean cried. "Don't do this. I love you."
The wave struck him, but it didn't feel like he expected it to. The force it was carrying dissipated and Dean floated gently in a navy blue ocean. He found he could still breathe, though the air felt thick. Tiny lights started winking on around him. He reached out a hand to one, forced into slow motion by the weight of the atmosphere. Just as his fingers were about to touch it, it flashed open. It was an eye. A glowing, blue eye.
Dean tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried to pray instead.
Castiel, please tell me you've got your ears on. I need you to hear me. I'm here to take you home, but you have to trust me. What was that you said to me that one time? 'This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.' I didn’t then. But I found it, and not for your fucking dad. No, I put all of my faith in you. And I never regretted it. Never, not once. So please, just find a little in you for me. I can't do life without you, man. I love you. And I'm so sorry I never told you that before. We have a lot of wasted time to catch up on, time that I wasted with my head stuck up my own ass. Please wake up. Come home, Cas.
One by one, the lights started opening into eyes. They were ethereal, made of crystalline light. Against the navy darkness, larger shadows unfolded. Six massive silhouettes of wings spread across every inch of his vision. The blue glow spread, and then it was outlining the rest of Cas' body. It was his vessel, but different. His true eyes were closed. Glossy black feathers stuck out from his hair, encircling his head like a crown. Or a halo. His arms were outstretched, palms open toward the endless chasm beneath them. He was a creature of the cosmos, an entity that could not be fathomed.
"Castiel," Dean whispered.
The seraphim opened its eyes, and despite the otherworldly creature before him, they were the eyes of his best friend.
Dean reached for him and Cas reached back, but he bypassed Dean's hands and went straight for his chest. He placed his palm over the center of Dean's ribcage and his eyes glowed white. Cas' face was expressionless, but after a moment, it contorted. His eyes still blazing with heavenly light, tears rolled down his cheeks.
"It's really you," he whispered. "I would know your soul anywhere."
Gravity returned. Dean's stomach just about exited his body through his mouth as he plummeted, but he landed soft and on his feet. He gasped out a shaking breath. They were standing in a barn. No, not just a barn. The barn.
Cas looked more like himself now, but one pair of huge black wings still swooped over his shoulders and off to the sides.
"This is where I said it," he said, his voice small.
Dean nodded, his hands shaking in fists at his sides.
"I thought I didn't know then, what you would mean to me," he continued. "But I did. I always knew."
Dean caught himself before he touched Cas, terrified of ruining whatever progress this seemed to be.
"I want to wake up, Dean," he said, looking up sharply into Dean's eyes and making him jump. "But I don't know how. I don't know if I even… deserve it."
The silence between them thrummed and Dean glanced around the familiar space, so distant, but etched into his mind for it's significance.
"You don't think you deserve to be saved?" Dean said, again echoing the words of a long ago Castiel.
Cas seemed rocked by hearing that question come out of Dean's mouth. His brows furrowed and he scrunched up his face with emotion.
"You didn't either," he whispered. "But I know you deserved it more than anyone."
"So trust me to make the right call this time," Dean said back.
"How?" Cas asked.
Dean hesitated. What could he do to wake him up if nothing had so far? He had to shock him out of the dream. He held his breath and took a step forward. His fingers ghosted up Castiel's forearms and he gripped his shoulder where the handprint was seared onto his own. He looked his angel in the eyes and he kissed him. Cas' wings flared out in surprise and he didn't move for several seconds. Then all at once, he was scrambling to hold onto Dean, pull him closer. He grabbed at his wrists, his ribs, his face. They kissed like they were starving for each other.
When they finally broke apart, the barn was melting away into blackness like a wax model. Cas was holding his face with both hands, looking at him with a clarity in his eyes that had not been there before.
"I'm awake," Cas said.
Dean's heart pounded. He held onto Cas' arms.
"Now, Jack, now!" he screamed, both out loud and in prayer.
For a moment, nothing. And then the darkness ripped right down the middle. A golden light was splitting through and Dean thought he could hear the Empty scream. He and Cas clutched each other so tightly it hurt and then he was being sucked away.
"Cas!" he cried.
And then he was awake on the dungeon floor, screaming and scrabbling on the cement. Sam pulled him up into a sitting position and gripped him tightly by the shoulders.
"Dean! Dean, its okay. You're okay," he said frantically.
Dean was choking on air, his chest heaving. He turned to look at Jack. The Nephilim was still sitting cross-legged on the floor. His face was blank and his eyes were glowing vibrant gold.
Sam held onto Dean's shoulders and they watched for what felt like years until Jack's eyes fell shut and he dropped backwards onto the ground, unconscious. Sam scrambled up and over to him, pulling his head into his lap.
"Jack," he said urgently, patting his face. "Jack are you okay?"
Jack didn't respond. For a moment, Dean felt like his heart was going to splinter into a million tiny pieces. It hadn't worked.
But then the golden rip appeared in the wall where the Empty had been all those terrible weeks ago, and Cas was falling through it. Dean lunged to catch him so his head didn't hit the floor and he made it just in time. The interdimensional rip sealed shut from ends to middle with a spark and a hiss.
"Shit, fuck," Dean was gasping.
Sam was watching with wide eyes from where he held Jack. Dean was laying on his back with Cas' head cradled in his elbow. His eyes were closed and Dean brushed his hair back from his forehead with shaking fingers. He laid his hand on his chest. A slow thump, thump under his palm had him nearly melting into the ground with relief.
It had worked.
Sam reached over and put his hand on Cas' calf, as if he wanted reassurance that he was real too, and the brothers stared at each other in amazement. After a few minutes of catching their breath, they each picked up one of their holy family members and carried them upstairs. Dean cradled Castiel to his chest, holding on for dear life. Cas' temple rested against Dean's collarbone and his right arm swung past his side.
Jack was slowly waking up before they reached the hall to the bedrooms, asking weakly where Cas was. Sam turned so he could see his father and then carried him to his room to rest. Jack protested the whole way, but Sam spoke reassuringly to him and promised that he could see Cas as soon as he was feeling stronger.
Dean hesitated outside the room that had belonged to Castiel, and then kept walking to his own. He bumped the door open with his hip and laid Cas down gently on his bed. He was still wearing his typical getup and Dean knew that could not be comfy to sleep in. Especially now that Cas was human again.
Its just to help him out. That's it. No ulterior motives, he assured himself.
Carefully, he pulled Cas' arms out of the trenchcoat and draped it over the back of his desk chair. He removed the suit jacket, the white shirt, tugged his shoes off, and then pulled his slacks down his legs so he was only in boxers. Cas didn't react once the entire time. Dean dug around in his own drawers until he found his softest pair of flannel pajama pants and pulled them up over Cas' hips. He tried not to look at his friend's bare, tan chest, but it was really hard. He was unfairly beautiful. He found a soft Zep t-shirt and put that on him too, before pulling the blankets out from under him and then up to his chest.
As he finished, he noticed a shadow in the doorway and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Son of a bitch, Sam," he growled. "Scared the fuckin' shit out of me."
"Sorry, sorry," Sam said, holding his hands up in front of him. "He okay?"
Dean ran a hand wearily over his face and looked down at his motionless angel.
"He's alive. That's something at least. Now I guess we just… wait for him to wake up," he said.
Sam nodded, his long hair flopping over his forehead.
"I'll keep an eye on Jack," he said. "He's asleep again. Yell or text me or something if you need anything."
Dean nodded. Sam slipped away, closing the door behind him so only a crack of light shone through. Dean flicked on the bedside lamp and looked at Cas under the golden glow for a moment. There he was. He was here, in Dean's bed, after all that terrible, awful time. He was home.
Dean ripped his eyes away and forced himself to get changed too. He laid down on top of the covers next to Cas and just stared at him like a total creeper. He couldn't keep his eyes off him. He reached out hesitantly and let his hand rest on Cas' cheek, his thumb against his chin below his lip. He could feel his chest rising and falling slowly under his forearm. He did not feel like he could sleep at all, and that was fine. He wanted to make sure Cas didn't disappear on him again. But he underestimated the toll the last two months, and now this escapade into dreamland, had taken on him. He fell asleep with his hand still on Cas' face.
_____________________________________________
"Dean."
Dean grunted, curling closer to the warmth beside him.
"Dean," the voice said again.
No. Not just any voice.
Dean's eyes shot open immediately. He had his arm over Cas' chest and his face pressed into his shoulder. He sat up so fast that all the blood rushed to his head and his vision got all spotty. Cas was staring up at him with those beautiful, amazing, alive blue eyes.
"Cas," he choked out. "Oh thank fuck."
Cas raised an eyebrow at that phrase and Dean nearly started sobbing to see that familiar look on his friend's face.
"Come back," Cas said. "You were warm."
Dean hesitated, but was not about to go denying Cas anything that he wanted. He lowered himself back down beside him, but didn't put his arm over him again. Cas turned his head to look at him.
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered.
"Why are you apologizing?" Cas rumbled, his eyes searching Dean's face.
"I- I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Dean said. "You just came back from the dead."
Cas raised that eyebrow at him again.
"Yes," he said. "Thanks to you."
Dean hesitated, averting his eyes.
"Dean… there's very little you could do to make me uncomfortable," Cas said.
"Yeah well…" Dean mumbled. "I love you."
"I love you too," Cas replied, a smile breaking out across his face.
"Not in a brother kind of way," Dean said.
"No, I should certainly hope not," Cas said.
"In like, an I want to kiss you kind of way," Dean pressed on.
"I would not be adverse to doing that again," Cas said.
"No?" Dean asked.
"Dean," Castiel sighed. "Do you really think I said all that to you because I love you 'like a brother'?"
"Um…" Dean mumbled. "I- I was hoping not but I just wanted to be sure."
Cas inched closer to him across the blankets. He nosed against Dean's cheek and brought a warm hand up to his face.
"Get under these blankets with me, Dean Winchester," Cas whispered.
"Uh- okay," Dean breathed back.
And he did, but not before he kissed the living shit out of his best friend.