Dean ran a hand through his damp hair and sat on the edge of his bed. Sam had fallen asleep while Dean had been in the shower and it had long since turned dark outside. The moon was almost full and cast a light through the window. Dean looked at the made bed with longing and despair. After the hunt they'd just been on he was tired, he'd been tossed around enough by the vampires. He hoped it tired him out enough. He pulled a soft T-shirt over his head, happy to be wearing something clean and not (yet) bloodied. He lowered himself to the mattress and pulled blankets up around him. As soon as he closed his eyes he fell asleep.

And still it didn't keep Hell away.

Dean open his eyes surrounded in the fire. His skin was heavy with dried blood. He was caked in it, arms, hands, chest, face all covered. He held a jaggedly serrated iron blade and a soul screamed on the rack before him adding to the howling that came from all over. Sounds of torture.

Dean awoke in a cold sweat and a scream trapped in his throat. He glanced over at the still sleeping Sam and then lowered himself back to the pillow and cast about in his mind for something else to think about. He thought of some choice women and of the family he could have had if not for the job. Pie. Sammy? None of it worked and then he got the image of Castiel grabbing him from hell and bringing him back to life. It was faint as if from some half remembered dream. His spirit clinging to the light of the angel. Cass wrapping his arms around him and carrying him back to the land of the living. He started to flick through his memories of Castiel. He remembered Cass yelling at him about all he had sacrificed and the words "For you!" Came back to him. He felt his heart rate level knowing that he had an angel to watch over him. And not just any angel, Uriel or Zachariah, he had Castiel and Dean thought about how lucky he was for that. And perhaps Dean let the name crawl from his parted lips as sleep consumed him.

Little did he know that he had indadvertedly called his awkwardly kind and dutiful guardian to him. Castiel looked upon the sleeping Dean in confusion. He tilted his head to the side wondering what had brought him. He stood still hoping his presence wouldn't wake the boys. Dean only shifted his head on his pillow and stretched his legs a little. Castiel looked at Dean and felt something in his chest blossom like it always did when he saw Dean. This was what he left heaven for: This peace that settled over his sleeping charge and this affection roaring within his chest. Castiel understood why the humans were gods favorite, the way they felt, felt everything, was so sacred.

And terrifying.

Since Castiel had left heaven he was learning many new emotions. It was confusing; It was almost overwhelming. He looked out the window to the moon in the sky. Sometimes he wished for the days with out doubt, with out inner conflict, and with out war. When all there was was an order to follow and a family at your back.

"Cas..."

Castiel looked back at Dean expecting him to have awoken, but he was still slumbering softly. Cas's lips parted in surprise. He reached out tentatively with his mind toward Dean. A moment of guilt crashed over him but his curiosity washed it away. He pushed past the barrier of Deans mind tentatively. He saw himself and Dean. At the bar drinking together, outside the brothel where Castiel had struck out and Dean laughed, in battle backing each other, and in a motel like the one in which Castiel stood, standing toe to toe faces only inches apart...

He so too saw snippets of hell just beyond these pieces of the two men. He realized that Dean was using Castiel as a shield in his sleep to ward off the evils that poisoned his sleepless night. Castiel retreated from Dean's dreams. He felt like he had been smacked in the chest by an archangel.(And he knew what that felt like) He took deep breaths but they all seemed short. His eyes filled with tears that flooded over onto his cheeks even though he was not sad. He hadn't felt this before but he knew what it was. He understood it now. He understood love. He strode forward now to the side of Dean's bed. If humans thought angels beautiful Cas imagined it was something akin to how he saw Dean. He glance over the curves of Deans calves visible beneath the sheets and up toward those on his smooth naked back. His strong arms disappeared beneath his pillow. Castiel reached out shakily to Dean and brushed the back of his hand along the side Dean's face. He reveled in the connection. He craved these intimate touches he had always been denied as God's Soldier. Dean started to stir, and the angel dropped his hand. He waited until Dean opened his eyes, just to see the brown and green in his irises, before he let the wings carry him away from the shabby motel room.

Dean tensed in his bed positive there had been someone there but after he sat up he realized there was no one. And the light whoosh he thought he heard was all in his head. He closed his eyes letting those images of Castiel flip through his mind. The friendly ones like them drinking together and the the guiltier ones like Dean undoing the buttons of Cas's white dress shirt. He let himself relive them all as he counted slowly and steadily to ten. After ten he would bury them down with Hell and he would sit up and forget and go on with his life without these thoughts.

Ten.

He sighed and swung he legs out of bed, done with sleep for now. No one said he was allowed to live happy. No one said he had to live at all. Well actually he thought rubbing the hand shaped scar on his shoulder, there might be one.