Locked inside his mind with Michael behind the wheel…

The torture of choice? Emotional destruction and Dean was helpless to stop it.

On tonight's menu of horrors; Cas.

Michael was in a room with the Angel, revealing Dean's secrets... exposing him. His innermost thoughts and feelings were set free into the world. His control, torn away and he fell to his knees, screaming. That's how Michael worked, he brutalised using words; using secrets.

The scene turned and Dean fell into a coma, trapped again. This time in a deep and solid sleep that he couldn't wake from... He paced around the bunker, once a home, now a prison. It was a vast and endless maze, so lost and alone. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat...

The nightmare gripped him as he struggled to break free, it tried to overwhelm him but Dean won and gasped to the surface.

He woke in a cold sweat, his heart beating frantically in his chest. Haunted by the torrent of emotions, he trembled, the hair bristling on his arms. The sheets were on the floor, thrown there sometime in the night and as the air caressed bare skin he shivered. Panting and quivering, he lay prone on his bed, naked as the day he was born.
The nightmares were less intense now than in the beginning. They were less frequent, less vivid but sometimes they took hold and he woke alone, in the dark, trembling.

A knock on the door brought him crashing back to reality. He groaned, both annoyed and relieved at the distraction.

"Dean, you awake?"

It was more of an order than a question from his brother.

"Yeah, give me a second?" he replied, sleep muffled the reply.

"Cas is back, he has something to tell us."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face then stretched and something wrenched in his back. "Sure, be right there." He grimaced.

Staring at the ceiling had become a hobby of his and this morning was no different. He studied the paint and the cracks as if they held the secrets of the universe. The deep breaths helped as he prepared to enter the world. The internal argument always started with, 'but I don't want to' then moved on to 'stop being a pansy and get the fuck up'.
Dean rolled out of bed, groaned and cursed as he tripped over the rumpled bedding. Steadying himself on the desk he fought nausea that tried to overcome him.

It took a while before he found clothes which were...clean. He hated doing laundry and it had irked him before the thing with Michael. Now it was worse, it was something he actively avoided. He'd almost enjoyed the cleaning before all this, and had kept his room spotless. It made him feel in control. Sam had even called him compulsive but now he just... didn't care. He should, he knew that but...he couldn't. Cas had taken to cleaning up after him so obviously, he felt like shit. The guilt rose, sticking like emotional slime. Each time he promised to do it, well, he didn't... couldn't. The piles of clothes on his bedroom floor were evidence of the neglect and he knew that Cas would come in and fix it.
'Yep, like shit,' he chastised himself.

Unlike Sam, Cas knew how broken Dean was on the inside, how much even breathing took from him. He needed a distraction, a big one. Searching for Jack had helped but until there was something to do he was mostly killing time. Dean stared at the mess then shoved the guilt as far down as it would go. Which, not so shockingly, wasn't as far as he would've liked.

His mind pushed a memory forwards and he fought it. Michael's coordinated wardrobe, the immaculate almost military way he presented himself. Dean shuddered. Yeah, maybe that had something to do with it. Pressing his palm into his eye socket he panted out a soft sob. 'Come on Dean', he scolded himself again, 'Man the fuck up.' Feeling helplessness and hating it, he sighed and then bent down to drag on last night's jeans and a black T-shirt from the floor. It hurt, he must have torn something. Thrashing about in your sleep would do that. Jesus, it hurt. Once upright he padded barefoot through the bunker, towards the kitchen. He left the light in the hallway off, with this kind of hangover the light always made it worse.

His mind wandered to Sam as he walked. His brother had tried everything to get Dean back to normal, to get him to care. So had his Mom. Mary refused to enable him and scolded Cas regularly for it. Sam meanwhile had resorted to childish comments in an attempt to get him to change. Every day he would say he was gross for not washing and cleaning. Dean smiled at his brothers' attempts. If Sam could really understand...

'I don't care what Sam thinks.' the thought fitted into his mind. Lying to himself was also a thing he did now. The slow ache behind his ribs flared up reminding him that he did care what Sammy thought. He was just letting everyone down right now, but he couldn't find the will to change.

Smirking at the internal monologue he cringed soon after, his head throbbing. Trying to erase the hangover by rubbing his temples didn't help either. To top it all off, his mouth tasted like 'furry ass' and the only thing that was going to help was coffee. He wanted to feel normal again and promised himself any day now, he'd wake up and feel better but it hadn't happened yet.

Hobbling because of his back, the walk to the kitchen was slow. Dean tried to stretch it out and it helped a little but the tension was still there between his shoulders. Waves of nausea assaulted him again and he regretted the whiskey, okay the second bottle. Last night's 'one man party', eh...one man/ one woman party he corrected, had ended with his head in a toilet. 'Classy Dean, so Classy', he rolled his eyes and groaned.
Drinking helped with the nightmares, but even that wasn't cutting it anymore. Neither was the sex. The only thing that helped was Cas. It was another awkward and admittedly, a painful thing he ignored.

The memory came in a flash, how he had freed himself from Michael. It had cost him, broken something in him to rip free. The regression into his own mind was something none of them had seen coming but it rode in like a tsunami. The nightmares came first followed by the delusions. Then finally the static coma which he couldn't wake from. His brother and his Mom, they had been willing to do anything. Cas had gone on a rampage trying to find answers.

Sam had taken to the internet, searching for anything that would help. Finally, psychology suggested an answer in physical contact. It seemed so simple, too simple but they'd tried everything else. So, one day, Sam crawled onto the bed with a still and silent Dean to hold his hand. It didn't help yet Mary tried as well and nothing. So, they dismissed it as a failed experiment.

The silent coma was the most terrifying, that's what they'd told him... Sometimes they would wonder if he was dead. Sometimes he screamed and writhed. They were terrified. Constantly preparing themselves for the day he would be silent forever. One night Cas couldn't watch Dean shudder and cry any more and went to him. He felt the pull, the need, the anguish and couldn't ignore it. The angel removed his trench coat and crawled across the damp sweat-soaked sheets. Sliding himself down into the pillow, he gripped Dean's rough and clammy hand. There they lay as Castiel's heart shattered. He could feel it all, the pain, the desolation and took as much of it from Dean as he could.

That night Dean slept and the next morning it seemed like a miracle. Dean woke, just for a moment and called Castiel's name but it gave them hope.
Sam allowed the contact but was unwilling to hope for fear it wouldn't last. As the nightmares slowed and the shaking almost stopped, Sam realised this was it. This was the miracle they needed and that they could get Dean back.

Sam and Cas discussed it at length and the only difference they could see was that Cas was an Angel. It was a mystery and a gift, one they weren't going to examine too closely.
Dean relieved those nights sometimes when he lay alone in bed. He imagined his friend lying next to him, touching his skin and the warmth, the whispers of how it would all be okay. Even the memory soothed him. Sometimes they'd lie in silence, just breathing but it was like a lullaby to Dean's battered soul. When he was lucid he'd remembered but hadn't told Cas that he did. It was difficult to admit but the peace in that room was what he needed, what he craved. He felt so safe there and he hadn't wanted to move, hadn't wanted to function. It was just, easier.

It became an addiction, all day, every day. Cas lay by Dean's side and held his hand. It kept the worst delusions and bouts of panic away. Full body contact was best but unless it got bad Cas respected Dean's personal boundaries.
There was one night though, Dean remembered it as if it was only yesterday. After days of lucidity, they thought the worst was over. Cas had left the bunker to get groceries, Sam was trying to find Jack, who had vanished leaving only a cryptic note. It was fine for an hour and then the regression had started but not progressive like it usually did. This time it came in a wave of all-consuming panic and memories. Michael as he hurt humans, taunted Dean's family, beat Cas into a bloody angelic pulp. The fear, the rage, the helplessness crashed into him all at once and he drowned.

Cas told him the story sometime after. Dean knew his friend had found him screaming and gasping on his bed. Cas left out the part where it was his name he'd been screaming over and over, begging Micheal to stop the vicious and brutal beating. Dean overheard that later when Sam and Cas were talking.
They left out the part where Cas had stripped down to his boxers to create as much skin to skin contact as he could. He had ignored Dean's preferences, so worried that he was too late. So terrified of the thought that he would become catatonic again he simply acted. He wrapped himself around Dean's shuddering body and pulled him into his arms. They lay touching, chest to feet until the nightmares receded. The angel held him until he was positive Dean was back with him and was staying.

Sam freaked out when he returned to find them in bed, half naked with Cas caressing Dean's hair like a sick child. Sam had frowned watching them together. Seeing Cas soothe and whisper apologies into Dean's damp hair confused him. It had seemed so intimate, so emotional that he'd frozen open-mouthed, for a long time. They'd argued about it afterwards but Sam conceded. It had been the only way and Dean didn't need to know. But, Dean did know and it caused a mess inside him he didn't know what to do with.
Time passed and lucidity became the norm. The severity dipped and he became more aware. Dean could justify the closeness he and Cas shared less and less. Eventually, sleeping with his friend by his side had become... uncomfortable and not because it wasn't pleasant but because it was.

Pushing the thought away he stepped into the kitchen, then leaned on the door frame to regain his balance. The aroma was heavenly. Both sweet and bitter, he inhaled deep savouring the smell. Oh coffee, sweet coffee, come to daddy. He almost moaned, it was that good but reigned it in. Moving toward the black elixir, he considered pouring a cup. The throbbing in his skull was at Defcon One, he reconsidered and took the whole pot. Grabbing the new oversized mug which was a gift that Cas had brought him, it read 'you only live once' and it always made him smile. That angel has a dark sense of humour. Carrying it to the table in the library, he slid into one of the hard chairs with a thud. Sam and Cas had their noses deep in a book and Dean groaned. Why books? Why was it always books?

As his head spun again, he debated drinking the coffee black from the jug; how mad would Sammy be? They both looked up as he moved around but then returned back to their task. Huffing internally, he decided against it. Resolved that the wrath of his baby brother would only make his headache worse. The angel was in his usual trench and shirt combo and Sammy had on his jeans and a flannel shirt. Was that the same shirt as yesterday? He stifled a laugh at the irony.
"Hello Dean," Cas muttered, distracted by the page Sam was pointing at. Dean watched the angel without registering it. The expressions, the frown on his face made something tug behind Dean's ribs. Before it could settle, he swiped it away and looked at the book instead. The book was large, red and covered in symbols. Some he recognised but his brain wasn't playing ball this morning. Bacon, he needed bacon. Head dropping forward because he was too tired to care anymore. Taking another deep breath he willed the world to stop doing cartwheels.

Sam cleared his throat, "That bad huh?"

Dean groaned a yes.

"Would you like me to fix it?" Castiel asked looking up, his expression full of care and concern.

"No, let him suffer. Maybe next time he'll quit after the first bottle of whiskey…"

Sam flicked over a page of the book, it was aggressive. He avoided Dean's gaze but the accusation was clear. Sam disapproved of the excessive drinking. Hell, Sam disapproved of Dean in general at the moment. He had to agree with his brother but he'd never admit it, that second bottle had been a bad move. Dean pried his eyes open a little wider to glare at Sam but got Cas who glanced over at him in pitty and shrugged. Dean felt horrible but it was probably an abuse of the angel's powers anyway...probably.

He watched them for a few minutes and waited for the rundown. When they didn't elaborate he debated going to get food. Turning he noticed a brown bag sitting to Castiel's left. Food, he thought and realised he wasn't only dreaming of bacon, he could smell it. "Hey, is that mine?" Dean ventured as he snagged it.

The smell of fresh warm bread and hot meat made him salivate and his stomach grumbled in anticipation of food.

"Yes," Cas said without fanfare but he was already halfway through the bacon roll. Damn, he loved that angel. The thought made him swallow hard.

"Thanks, Cas." He groaned around a mouthful of bread.

Dean sat in silence as he consumed the two bacon rolls and then moved on to the pancakes. They discussed a symbol in the text they ignored Dean's orgasmic chomping noises. A sensible choice.

"Hey, Nerds, are you gonna to tell me what's going on or should I take a nap?" he ventured several minutes later. Annoyance bubbling over his bacon filled happy place. 'I could have stayed in bed.' He thought.

"Dick," Sam muttered under his breath, more stressed since Jack disappeared. What Sam wouldn't say is that he was annoyed at their Mom.

Mary couldn't deal with Dean and had buried herself in work. Hunting and helping the refugees from the other reality had become her obsession. She found them all a place to live, an abandoned town about an hour away and spent most of her time there. She visited but it was fleeting. Any more than twenty minutes resulted in arguing with Dean or crying into Sam's shoulder. Mary had received some of the worst of Michaels wrath and she was still dealing. Dean got that but Sam was having to take on all this with Cas and it just didn't seem fair. On top of it, Sammy felt responsible for Jack. They all did.

"This book is the one I was looking for last week. It'd been spelled so I couldn't see it unless I already knew where it was." Sam chimed in.

"Awesome."

"Yeah, but Cas found it last night and we've been going through it since then."

Deans thoughts snapped together. An all-night library session explained Sam wearing yesterday's shirt. All was right with the world once more. "You've been at this all night? You two really need to get laid," he smirked.

"I think you've got that covered, don't you? What was her name? The blonde last night? Britney? Brianna?"

"Bethany. She was dancing to pay for medical school. She named her dog after dairy."

The brothers turned to stare at Cas.

"You spoke to her?" Dean asked incredulously, "When were you at the bar?"

"I came to check on you and I spoke to her while you were in the bathroom. She was nice."

They stared at him.

"Dairy?" Sam just had to ask.

"Butter."

They stared some more until Dean broke the silence. Reverting back to his brother's original comment.

"Why does it bother you so much? Jealous?"

"Whatever Dean. Are you done?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, hit me- nerd boy." Dean felt the grin creeping over his face but it didn't reach his eyes.

Sam scowled and added, "This book tells us how to get to the other universe, the one where Jack is."

Dean, surprised said, "I thought we needed grace and that other hoodoo witch stuff?"

Cas looked up, his gaze meeting Dean's,

"That's just one way to get there. Jack ventured to a dimension that is almost identical to ours. It's so close that it overlaps which means the same rules don't apply."

"Right, but this spell or whatever will do it? We can go get him?" He sipped his coffee and savoured the warmth on the way down.

Sam and Cas exchanged a look and Dean knew there was a catch.

"Well, it only works if one of us stays on this side to say the spell. Then write the return sigil on the wall. It's the only way to guarantee that we'll get back to this universe," Sam said sitting back in his chair.

"So who's staying behind?" Dean asked.

Cas and Sam exchanged that look again and he knew he wasn't going to like what came next.

"Well, we thought maybe you'd want to sit this one out, you know, after everything..." Sam gave him his most sympathetic look. Which made Dean angry, not least because five seconds ago he'd been riding his ass for the way he was coping.

"Are you saying that I can't handle it?" Dean growled, "It's a damn milk run Sam. We beam over, find Jack and bring his ass back home, you think I should sit this one out and Cas? Really? You agree with him?"

"You know that's not what we're saying," Sam replied, snapping.

As they argued, Cas gaze flicked between the two of them.

"It's funny because that's what I heard." He smirked.

"Dean, if you really want to go then, Sam..." Cas interrupted, glancing in Sam's direction, "...I'm sure it'll be fine."

Cas frowned, he didn't like being stuck between them like this.

"Great, fine, do whatever." Sam huffed, he should have known the angel would take Dean's side. It was an unspoken rule. They could disagree with each other but they almost always teamed up against him, or anyone else. Sam didn't even think they knew they were doing it and he ran his fingers through his long hair in annoyance.

"Did you like the food, Dean?" Cas tried changing the subject but Sam wouldn't let it go.

Sam sat forwards in his chair looking defeated and added. "I'm just...worried about you."

Dean felt bad for a second, knowing he'd overreacted but he would be damned if they were going to bench him. Especially when they finally found Jack, he had to go. It was all his fault that Jack was even there in the first place, he was there for Dean, to help him.

He smiled at his brother, it was as soft as he could make it, "Sammy, I'll be fine. I'm all good. Healthy as a horse." Then turned to Cas with a bright and genuine smile. "Yeah, it was awesome. Bacon: food of the gods."

Sam looked like he wanted to say more but knew it wouldn't help and rolled his shoulders to the release the tension. He'd snap then regret it, thinking he was being too hard on Dean then he'd go all soft. The mood swings were giving Dean whiplash.

"So are you coming or is Cas?" asked Dean.

"We thought it would be better if Cas went, we don't know if you'll need some angel mojo to get back. Jack should be enough backup but we don't know what it's like there...and if you don't find him for some reason."

Dean raised his eyebrows becoming unsure of the plan and Sam saw it in his face.

"You will but...It's just in case. You know, insurance?"

Reassured, Dean relaxed a little. They would get Jack, there was no other option.

"So when are we doing this thing?" Dean asked, running his fingers over the now tepid mug.

"Now," Cas replied standing, his trench coat catching the chair as he moved.

"Now?"

Dean wished he'd had more pancakes but was glad his headache had eased.

"Yes, Dean," Cas added. "Now."

The angel was tense, he could feel it from across the table. Cas didn't want him to go, the concern all over his face.

"Okay, I'll gear up." Dean ignored Cas expression, he had to go.

Glad for something to do he stretched, regretted it and stood. Ten minutes later he returned with supplies and dropped the bag on the floor. Sam's face looked like he was chewing a wasp but he would get over it, he always did.

"Dean? You need to be here." Cas prompted, pointing at the circle he was standing in. There was a disapproving tone but, well, ignorance was bliss.

The outline on the floor started to glow a deep flickering green which stopped once Dean was inside.

"You ready?" Sam asked Cas.

"Yes, Sam."

With that, he started chanting.