Hey everyone! Late night brain splurge. Maybe more chapters, tell me if you want them! Love you guys!

"I spent 40 years down there, Sam." Dean was beyond words, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Yeah, well it's about damn time you went back." The twisted evil grin on Sam's`face only grew wider as he plunged a blade deep into Dean's heart.

...

Dean jolted awake, breathing heavily, sweat pouring over his entire body. "What were you dreaming of, Dean?" asked a deep gruff voice from the edge of his bed.

"Jesus, Castiel! You don't do that to people! You call or at least announce in some way that you are there so you don't scare them," Dean scolded, jumping at the voice of his friend.

"I am sorry, Dean. I did not mean to startle you. Would you like me to go?" The angel made as if to leave before Dean caught his sleeve.

"Don't leave. It's fine. Why are you here at,,," he glanced at the clock. "Two o'clock in the morning?"

"You were calling out to me. When I came to your aid, you were sleeping. I thought you might want to talk when you woke up." The hunter smiled at him, in one of those brief smiles where there was actually some joy. "Where is Sam?" As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he had never said them. Dean grimaced, closing his eyes. Though Castiel had tried, he could only pull Sam's body out of the Pit, not his soul.

"Last time I heard from him, he was off in God-knows-where Nebraska with a new hunting buddy. I haven't seen him in weeks." All Cas wanted to do was give Dean a hug, to wrap his arms around him and comfort him, but he knew that he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, dropping his head in his hands. The older Winchester felt awful for making the angel feel bad.

"It's not your fault, Castiel." He paused before he went on, " My dream was about the pit. Alastair mostly. Then, when you finally did pull me out, Sam was there. Normal Sammy, until he snapped. He sent me back, back to the rack. All I could see was his face, grinning as he plunged that knife into me..." Tears trickled silently down his face. Not wanting to show such weakness in front of the angel, he wiped his eyes angrily.

"It's alright to show your emotions, Dean. I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition. I remade your soul with my own hands. I know more about you Dean Winchester than anyone alive," Cas reminded him, only inches from Dean's face. "You are my favorite of God's children. You deserved to be saved." Without a second's hesitation, Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's, his chapped lips meeting soft ones. Then, Castiel was gone in a flutter wings, leaving Dean to face his demons alone.

...

Castiel didn't show up for two weeks.

...

Dean was on a job, a nasty little spirit who liked to strangle her victims with barbed wire. He was totally befuddled, missing Sam's research skills as he sat alone in his hotel room, Starbuck's coffee mugs littering the room. He hadn't slept in a few days, he kept on having that same damn dream. "Dean?"

Dean was startled off the couch, relaxing only when he saw his trench coat angel standing by the door. "What do you want?"

"I came to... apologize. My behavior was irrational and illogical."

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have sprung that one on you. You probably aren't like that anyways."

"Can we try again?" Cas took a small step towards Dean, not sure what his response would be. Before he could move again, Dean's lips were crashing into his own. Their tongues tangled, fighting for dominance in his mouth. He moaned when Dean won, taking control of the kiss. To his surprise, Dean didn't try to take it any farther than pulling him onto the couch. He seemed content just in this kiss, unlike when he brought those girls home. All the stress released from his hunter's body, and Castiel was pleased to see it. When Dean pulled back, there was no disgust on his face, no displeasure for what he had just done, there was only... Castiel didn't understand the look in Dean's eyes. He stared at Cas' face like it was the only important thing in the world, like it was tying him to the Earth. Before he could stop it a giant yawn ripped through his chest. "Go to bed, Dean," Cas said, smiling gently.

"No. You won't be here when I wake up in the morning." The look of terror in Dean's eyes tore at Cas' heart.

"Dean, I promise you that when you wake up in the morning, I will still be here," Cas promised, leading Dean over to the bed.

"I don't want to have those dreams, Cas. I hate them. I can't..." The tears started to drip down Dean's face, a weakness he hated to show, but he couldn't take one moe of those dreams, those awful dreams from Hell.

"You won't Dean, not tonight. I promise." Cas leaned down and kissed Dean's lips. Then, he laid down, Dean on his chest. With hesitation, and much coaxing, Castiel got Dean to close his eyes, and eventually Dean fell reluctantly into a deep sleep.

...

"Come on, Dean. You can get off the rack. I promise. All you need to do... is put someone on it." Alastair was there again. Every day for the past twenty years he had given Dean the same offer.

"Dean? You need to follow me." This voice was soft, deep and beautiful. "Come on, come here." And Dean was off the rack, sitting in a meadow of green grass and lilacs.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud, laying back in the grass.

"Safe." Cas was standing a few feet away, looking at Dean. "I promised you that I wouldn't let you have bad dreams tonight." Castiel smiled gently, coming over and laying beside Dean. "Tonight is a night to have only good dreams," he whispered, kissing Dean softly.

...

The hunter woke up rested for the first time in months. It was warm in his bed, and he was laying on something soft. "Dean, are you awake?" Castiel spoke softly, rubbing Dean's back as he spoke.

"Good morning, sunshine," Dean yawned, snuggling closer to the angel's chest. Twenty minutes later Dean was out of bed, dressed, and ready to start working the case again.

"You coming along, Cas? Or are you needed somewhere else?"

"I can spare a few days to help you on this case, Dean." Cas pulled on his trenchcoat, following Dean out the door.

"Mr. Stanley, I'm sorry to bother you again. This is my partner, Agent Novak. We just need to ask you a few more questions."

"Yes, of course, anything. Please, come on in." Chris Stanley was a big man, towering over both Castiel and Dean. His wife had been killed by Jessica Simmons, a poltergeist who had been terrorizing the town.

"So, have you seen anything strange since the last time I was here? Heard anything? Strange noises perhaps?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, the house has been creaking a lot, and sometimes I swear that I can hear whispering." As he spoke, he looked around, terrified out of his mind.

"What do the whispers say, Mr. Stanley?"

"It's nothing. Please, I think it's time for you to leave." He stood quickly, ushering the fake FBI agents out the door.

"That was highly..."

"Unusual?" Dean filled in, getting in the Impala. "He's hiding something. I think he had something to do with Jessica Simmons' death."

"Have you found the bones?"

"No, she was cremated. I haven't seen this before."

"Maybe she's not a ghost..." Castiel suggested, working this whole thing over in his head. "What if she's a demon? Maybe the demon stole her skin and is parading around as Jessica."

"No, I don't think so. Why is she going after the Stanley family? That wouldn't make sense for a demon."

"Did Mr. Stanley have a daughter?" Castiel was already tearing through the papers. "There she is. She disappeared when she was 18. The police found her bones a few years ago. She had strange laceration marks on her neck, but they had no conclusive evidence. Maybe her parents had something to do with her death." Dean had already turned the car around and was racing back to the Stanley household.

"Mr. Stanley, open up!" he yelled, banging on the door. With a touch Cas undid the lock and opened the door. Chris Stanley was laying in the floor, barbe wire tangled around his neck, his daughter standing over him. "Sarah? Is that you?" Dean asked softly, not wanting to scare her away.

"He killed me, Dean Winchester. My mother just stood by and watched. They had to pay, they deserved to die. I can be at peace now." She disappeared in a flash.

"Well, that was one of those interesting things I've never seen before. That case just solved itself. That never happens."

"Well, she is at rest now. Her soul can be judged," Castiel was strangely quiet, deep in thought, as they drove back to the motel.

"What's wrong, Cas?"

"I want to ask you something about the dream you had last night." Dean nodded, signaling for him to continue. "Last night, as you were sleeping, you said, 'I love you'. Were you speaking to me?"

Dean froze, not taking his eyes off the road. He wasn't sure if the angel was ready to hear this, Hell, he wasn't sure if he was ready to here this. "Yes, Castiel. I love you," he whispered, looking over to see the expression on Cas' face. To his surprise, there was a crooked grin on Castiel's face, a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

"That's good... Because I love you too." They pulled into the motel parking lot, and Dean parked his car before Castiel touched his forehead, and then they were in the room. "Dean, I want you." No other words were needed before Dean pushed Cas onto the bed,kissing his lips softly, trailing down his neck and to the top of his collar.

"Clothes... off," he panted, pulling his own shirt over his head. Then, they fell into their own little slice of Heaven.