AN: Coda to 5.01 & 5.02

Written for spn_pic_for_fic promt #5

Dean was tired. Weary. Exhausted. He'd had enough. That was the only reason how he could explain why he'd said all that things to Sam in the parking lot. Things that were true but nevertheless things he wanted to bottle up and store somewhere deep within his mind where they'd never be found again. He sighed and took another huge gulp from the nearly empty bottle. His only companion for this night. Bobby was still in the hospital, Sam had gotten himself another room and Cas was as always just not there leaving Dean in the company of only his dark thoughts - and the bottle.

He must have passed out at some point because the next time Dean opened his eyes he was lying in the hay. A dream. It was kind of strange knowing this was a dream but Dean didn't care. It was nice. He closed his eyes again. The spicy smell of weeds and grass filled the air, hung heavily above the hunter. It was peaceful. No sounds except the faint rustling of shafts whenever he breathed in or out.

Dean felt the hay shift next to him. He hadn't heard anyone approaching and there was no noise, no rusting. Nevertheless he knew he was no longer alone. The hunter had no desire to cope with Angels again so he decided to ignore the intruder. They where in his mind and at least here he wanted to be the one calling the shots.

The hay shifted again soundlessly and suddenly he could feel breath ghosting over his face. He knew only one Angel that ignored the concept of personal space in an extend that let him maneuver himself into kissing distance without so much as noticing. Still he was not sure if he wanted to talk to one of Them.

"Why do you pretend to be asleep, Dean?" Castiel's soft voice asked only inches away from Dean's ear. The hunter sighed and opened his eyes to see the Angel's face hovering directly above his own.

"Ugh, dude, personal space?"

Castiel moved back and sat down next to the hunter."We have to talk, Dean", he said in a gravel voice.

"Talk? Why does everyone wanna talk these days? Why don't ya get it? I don't want no talk. Not to you, not to Sam, not to anybody else."

"Still we have to, Dean. I am here to help you."

"This is pointless! Can't you see? I don't want your help - I don't need your help!"

"Dean!" There was more foce in that word. Enough to make the hunter shut up for a moment. "Dean," the Angel continued much softer. "God rescued you. He put you and Sam on that plane."

"How do you know about that? I haven't told you and Sam surely hasn't either. So how the fuck do you..."

"Dean!" Castiel interrupted the hunter, his patience slowly wearing thin. "Please, we have to talk."

"About God?"

"About God."

"No. Sorry dude, but not now. I'm beat. I'm drunk. And I'm so not in the mood to have a theological discussion right now with you. Tomorrow, ok? We'll talk tomorrow. But right the fuck now I just want no body to bother me for a few hours. You got that?!"

Castiel's eyes bore deep into the hunter's essence before suddenly the Angel's gaze became soft and he nodded, slowly backing off. "There is only one more thing..."

Suddenly Dean was awake. He did not know why or how but he was glad the Angel was no longer able to bug him. With a sigh he took the remote and searched the channels for porn.

~*~

When the dream-reality vanished around Castiel the Angel failed to stifle an enraged groan. Now he had to talk to Sam. Because without him being able to sense the whereabouts of the Winchesters any longer he needed other ways to contact them. And with the help of 21th century technology surely this would be no issue – as soon as one of the infuriating brothers bothered to give him their telephone number. Hopefully Sam would be more cooperative. Otherwise he had other means to make him concur. Surely he would give his number to the nice flight attendant he had seen in the brothers' minds...