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“ Cas !”
Sam opens his eyes slowly, having just started to doze off after hours of staring at old police reports. The motel beds were somewhat new, and almost comfortable, and he was looking forward to a decent sleep that night. Dean’s night terrors weren’t new, and Sam knew he had his fair share that woke him in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat and shaking. No, he was used to being woken to Dean’s shouts in the middle of the night.
It’s just that recently, he’s always crying out for Cas.
Sam had brushed it off for the most part, Dean having nightmares about Purgatory, or any of the hundreds of other times they’d been deep in shit with Cas wasn’t surprising. He couldn’t help but notice, in the hours when he sits awake reading, or in the mornings before Dean wakes up, watching Dean toss and turn, that he doesn’t always just shout out Cas’ name. Sometimes he whimpers quietly, a please, Cas. Sometimes, he’s angry, the cold fury in his voice when he calls out no, Cas. There’s fear too, and those are the ones that make Sam the most concerned about his brother. The fear in his voice when he’s pleading into the quiet of their room Cas, please, help me.
Sam asks Dean about it, but true to Dean form, he brushes it off, like he’s had the best night’s sleep he’s ever had, when Sam knows for a fact it’s not true. He’s given up trying now, Dean’s stubborn and Sam needs to pick his battles. Luckily for Sam, the outbursts don’t last long. Almost as soon as Dean cries out, he settles back into quiet sleep, almost like his cries shake him out of his nightmare. Most nights Sam doesn’t even have time to roll over and check on him before Dean’s quieted again, the soft sound of his heavy breathing replacing the shouts from seconds before. Sam lets his eyes close again, when Dean’s panicked whimpers echo into the room again.
“ Cas, get me out… not again… not Hell again… Cas please…” Tonight it seemed Dean wasn’t going to settle back down quickly, and with a resigned sigh, Sam rolls over to face his brother’s bed.
Much to Sam’s surprise, Cas is sitting there next to Dean, a hand on his chest, staring at him intently. The moonlight through the curtains creates a halo around Cas’ head as he bends over Dean, and almost too quiet to hear, small murmurs in enochian start to tumble from him. Sam just stares, awed at the sight of the angel soothing his brother into peaceful slumber. Cas must feel Sam’s eyes on him, because he raises his head to look over at him. Sam’s asking a question before he even has time to realize he wants to ask it.
“How many times have you done that?” he whispers. Cas looks down at Dean again, the soft look on his face a far departure from his usual stoicism.
“Every time I can.” The low rumble of Cas’ voice is strangely soothing, and Sam wonders if it’s the after effect of easing Dean’s sleep.
“Do you hear him?” Sam asks thoughtfully.
“Prayer isn’t always conscious,” Cas points out, “and with the bond we share, Dean’s calls to me in his sleep are… easy to hear.” Sam looks over at his brother, now the poster boy for peaceful sleep. The immensity of the gesture isn’t lost on Sam, even if the angel doesn’t realize what it is he’s doing.
“Thank you,” Sam sighs.
“Yes, I imagine it will be easier for you to fall asleep now,” Cas nods, completely serious. Sam smiles but shakes his head.
“No, Cas. Thank you, for watching over him,” Sam explains. Cas’ eyes widen just slightly in understanding, and Sam swears he sees a smile on his face.
“Always.”
The next morning, Dean’s humming some classic rock song under his breath once Sam gets out of his post- run shower. He pulls on his clothes, smiling and shaking his head at his brother’s totally relaxed attitude.
“So, guess you got another good night’s sleep,” Sam called, pulling a tshirt over his head and grabbing hold of his red plaid button up and shrugging into it.
“Don’t be jealous, Sam, green’s not a good color on you,” Dean scoffs, finishing off his coffee that Sam had brought back. The familiar whoosh of an angel arriving is the only warning before Cas is standing next to Dean.
“Hello, Dean,” he says, the same low baritone as always.
“Cas, thanks for coming. We’re kinda stumped on this case, thought you might lend a hand.” Dean walks over to the laptop to open up what they had so far, and Cas meets Sam’s eyes across the room. “So we’re think- uh, Cas?” Dean calls. Cas walks over to Dean, leaning over his shoulder to read as Dean goes over their case notes, and now that Sam’s looking for it, he doesn’t miss the subtle way Dean leans closer to the angel, before making some sarcastic remark about personal space and Cas stands up straight again.
Sam laughs to himself, earning a puzzled look from his brother and what could almost be described as an embarrassed look from Castiel. Now that he knew to look, it was painfully obvious. As Sam grabbed his own coffee, sipping at it as Cas listed off some possibilities about the hunt, he can’t believe he’d never noticed it before.
Holy crap. Those two idiots are in love with each other.
