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The night he escaped from purgatory Dean slept like a baby. No nightmares, no vivid replays of his breakout from that other dimension. Unlike his escape from hell, this ordeal didn’t demand sleepless nights, it had a different cost. It started with small things at first, like the sound of feathers rustling behind him. Sometimes he’d hear a whisper, maybe see something out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t too hard for the hunter to ignore these illusions, but soon the hallucinations began, and those were harder to overlook. The first time Dean saw Cas the angel was walking down the side of the road. Of course he jammed the gear in reverse and went back, but found nothing.
And suddenly Cas was there, beside him in the Impala. Dean froze, expressionless, staring at the familiar figure next to him.
Castiel stared straight ahead of the road, not saying a word, not even breathing. His dark hair tousled in every direction, the beige trenchcoat perfectly clean, those blue piercing eyes making his face glow, every detail just the way Dean remembered. He stared at Cas for a while before he realized he’d been holding his breath, afraid his movements would wake him from this hallucination. Slowly he let out a silent sigh.
"Hello Dean," the angel said, turning slightly toward him. Dean froze again, mid-exhale, but it was too late, he could feel the moment disappearing, the smell of the angel disappearing, Cas disappearing. Without thinking Dean reached over the seat and grabbed both sides of Castiel’s face, bringing his dry lips to meet his.
Dean blinked. The hunter frantically turned about, glancing at the empty seat next to him. It was gone, he was gone. That night Dean prayed to Cas.
Soon Dean was seeing Cas several times a week, and then several times a day. It was just a part of his daily routine: wake up, eat his microwave breakfast, see Cas sitting on his bed, hunt down a spirit. The hallucinations became more intense, more vivid, and lasted longer too. If Dean refrained from touching Cas he could keep the angel near him all day, but every time Dean reached over and folded their fingers together, every time he put his arm around Cas’s shoulder, or touched his hair, or every time he kissed those lips he missed so much, Cas would melt away and disappear, leaving Dean cold and dazed. But it was always worth it because after a short while the angel would return to continue haunting him, and Dean would let him.
The hunter woke up and could tell it was early because his brother was still dozing. He forced his body to move and made his way to the bathroom. The cold water on his face helped to clear the sleepiness, but Dean continued to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"Dean?" the familiar voice echoed in the small bathroom.
Dean smiled sleepily and turned around, casually walking straight toward the angel, not stopping until he could taste Cas. Four seconds, thought Dean, wrapping an arm around the angel’s neck and breathing in the smell of dirt and sweat. Three seconds, his other hand reaching inside the filthy trenchcoat, feeling Cas shudder. Two seconds, their lips parting and Cas holding on so desperately, pulling Dean closer. One.
Dean let go of his angel and turned back to the sink, water still running. As he reached to turn the knob he saw that his hands were covered in dirt. Damn, did I fall asleep without showering last night? Dean shrugged and washing his hands, looking up at the mirror.
Cas stood behind him. Dean was expecting to see him again in a few hours, but there he remained, not disappearing, not dissolving into thin air. Those tired blue eyes were locked on him and a small smile came on his stubbled, peach fuzz face as he watched the hunter’s shocked expression.
"Hello Dean."
He spun around, not sure how to react. This was no hallucination. The man before him was not the usual ghost of the old Cas that Dean had become accustomed to. The trenchcoat was ripped and worn out all over, covered in grime. His hair was matted with blood and sweat, and his beard was hiding cracking dry lips. This was not his mind playing tricks. This was Castiel… Cas. His angel. Back for good, and this time when Dean touched him he didn’t disappear.