Hey everyone!

So the responses to all of my recent Supernatural fics have been so super supportive and encouraging and all out amazeballs. So I just wanna thank you all for reading.

This fic has some graphic images of Dean's time in Hell, so quite a bit of torture, in case you're not okay with that.

I haven't really been saying this but it's kind of a given that I don't own Supernatural or any of these characters, right?

This fic is a continuation of 13x05 so, spoilers.

Enjoy ^_^

"Sam, Dean," Cas' voice was warm as he stared at them, tears in his eyes. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Of course we came, Cas," said Sam after a short pause, Dean couldn't form words, there was a tightness in his throat at the impossibility, he was here, he was really here. Castiel barked a short laugh and strode forward to embrace the elder Winchester, it was a brief second before Dean hugged back, his arms slid around the angel's back, patting him once to make certain he was solid.

Then, Cas pulled back from him with a bright smile and turned to Sam, hugging him with the same relief and joy. Once a quick explanation had been issued, and questions asked on both sides, they piled into the Impala, where Dean sat in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked from next to him. Dean shook himself.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to drive?"

Dean shot a 'what do you think?' look at his brother and turned the keys in the ignition, revving the engine. Cas chuckled from the backseat and the sound of it felt like home.

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful, even quiet. They talked about nothing in particular and as Dean drove it was like it had never happened, like they had all just come back from a Hunt together, like Cas had never left. Dean didn't know what he had been thinking before, killing himself? How stupid a move was that? Sure, they had gotten some important intel out of it, but he felt the need to apologise to Sam as soon as they got a moment alone all the same. For now, he was content just to drive, the three of them in the car, music turned low, the rumble of the engine mingled with the sound of Castiel's voice as he asked about Jack and Dean thought that it was the best thing he had heard in a long time. It was like a purr deep in his chest, warm and comforting and everything just felt right, Dean couldn't stop his lips tugging upwards of their own accord, eyes half-squinting in the harsh neon lights of a town.

Xxx

Jack seemed to know Castiel before he had even introduced himself, he was on his feet and in his arms before Cas had even so much as greeted the kid. Castiel's arms wrapped around him, a confused frown on his face, though there was a gentle gleam in his eye that told Dean he was pleased at the development. Dean had to admit, they looked good together, like a family all their own. It almost reminded him of himself and Sam, when Sam was short enough to be held like that. Sam caught his eye and grinned softly, he seemed to know what Dean was thinking. Dean turned away, rolling his eyes. He made his way over to the fridge to grab four beers, then passed them out while they all sat around the table.

"To Cas," he said, raising his own beer, "welcome home, buddy."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said, clinking beers with Jack, then Dean, then Sam. "I'm very glad to be back amongst friends."

Dean sat back in his chair and drank his beer. He didn't rush it, there was no need. One beer was enough, he might as well savour it.

"So, what was the Empty like, Cas?" He asked, wanting to hear more about the creature Cas had mentioned before.

"There wasn't very much there," Cas responded solemnly. Sam choked on his beer. Dean rolled his eyes.

"What about that thing that looked like you?"

"Yes, that was… unpleasant. It looked through my memories and tried to torture me with them, as if I hadn't already been perfectly candid about why I needed to return."

"That son of a bitch," Dean said sympathetically. Reaching out to clap Cas on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, man."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Cas said kindly, meeting his eyes. Dean blinked, frowned and looked away. That was weird. He shook himself. Just imagining things, he thought. It had been a pretty eventful day after all, and not just for him. He probably just needed sleep, and Cas could probably use a recharge of his angel mojo too, however he did that. They sat up for a while longer, talking, until Sam, who had noticed Jack yawn four times in in a row, sent him, protesting mildly, to bed. He excused himself too and bid them goodnight.

The angel sipped his beer. It was only three quarters of the way empty. Dean hid a smile and then cleared his throat. Cas looked up at him. Dean, met his eyes and was again confused by what he saw. They were the same blue, full of the same depth, endless patience, understanding and fondness but there was something… different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Are you okay, Cas?"

Cas tilted his head,

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little… Are you sure you're okay. Not traumatised at all?"

The angel raised an eyebrow.

"Traumatised?"

"Yeah, I mean, you came back from the dead, man,"

"Not for the first time," Cas pointed out, "though admittedly, I was a little more… active in that process than usual," he looked pointedly at Dean, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dean said, waving away the angel's concern, "yeah, I guess I'm just, you know, tired or something."

"You should go to bed," the angel said, "good night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Dean stood and headed towards his room, but stopped in the doorway, "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"I – err – It's good to have you back. We, I mean, I, was a pretty big mess without you. I know I've made you promise before but… just don't do that again, man. Please."

Cas raised the beer bottle towards him and nodded.

"I shall certainly endeavour not to."

"Right. Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean left the room and spent a few sleepless hours trying to figure out exactly what had been wrong with that exchange.

Xxx

Dean Winchester screamed. Alistair was back, it must be morning, or whatever passed for morning in this timeless void of horror. Alistair whispered in his ear, the usual offer. Dean was shaking, screaming, cursing, as Alistair got out his instruments and began to use them, at times it was surgical and precise, slicing directly into his nerves, other times he seemed to lose himself in the bloodlust and used his nails to gouge great chunks of his flesh, all the while whispering sweet promises, how he could make it stop, how he would never feel like this again, all he had to do was give in and the pain would stop, but for now he screamed so prettily, and would he do that again for him? No? Not even now? There, good boy, there's my good boy, what a lovely scream.

But even worse than the pain, even worse than feeling his guts fall out of him, than watching his blood spray in ways that never would have been possible on Earth, worse than that was the crushing knowledge that he couldn't take this anymore, that he couldn't keep swearing and spitting insults. His fight was almost gone. But he knew that he would give in soon. Just one more day, just one more day, I can do this for one more day. It's only pain I'm used to the pain, I don't have to feel it, just block it out. But there was no blocking it out. That was the true torment of Hell, no matter how long you were there for, no matter how much you endured, no matter how many times they would rip you apart and stitch you back together, you felt every second, there was no getting used to it, it was always worse the next day. It had been thirty years. Thirty years of worse days. Dean sagged in his chains while Alistair crooned and carved, his eyes alight with fiery joy.

"Please," Dean whimpered, "please make it stop. I'll do what you want. I'll do anything, just make it stop."

"Dean,"

"Please just stop,"

"Dean!"

Dean woke, sweating, Sam was there, shaking his shoulder.

"Sam," his voice was cracked, parched. His throat raw.

"Hey, it's okay, I've got you. It was just a dream."

"Sammy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

"You're okay, it's okay, you're not there anymore, you're home, you're home, you're okay." Sam pulled his brother towards him. Dean leaned into it for a few seconds, then pushed away, his brain reorienting.

"I'm good," he said, "I'm good."

He sat back, feeling faintly sick. He hadn't dreamt of Hell in a long time, at least not so vividly. He could still feel the edge of Alistair's scalpel slicing down his ribs, parting skin, then muscle. He grabbed his side as if to hold himself together and shuddered.

Cas appeared in the doorway then, he looked concerned.

"I brought you some water," he said, placing it on the table, "you were screaming very loudly, I sent Jack back to bed,"

"Thanks," Dean said, gulping down the water and holding the cool glass to his head. His sweat was chilling on him now but his head still felt too warm. Cas reached forward and pressed a hand to his forehead for half a second.

"I don't think you have a fever," he said.

"Dean?" Sam's eyes were imploring, willing him to talk.

"No," Dean said, glancing at Cas and then away again, "no, I'm fine. I – I'm sorry. I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

Sam nodded and stood, a worried crease between his eyes. Dean couldn't stand it, that face, that concern. Now that the fear had receded he was consumed by shame. Hell had been a long time ago, he was over it; he could joke about it, he could think about it, he could remember it, though he didn't much like to. He'd worked through that wound. He'd had other nightmares since, other pain to process. But now? There was no big bad, Lucifer was gone, he had nothing to worry about. So why did his stomach feel like it had been put in a blender?

He shoved past Cas on his way to the bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the steam build. He breathed it in, calming himself.

When he finally emerged from the shower, water dripping onto the mat, he felt better. The bone-deep chill had gone, and though his mind was still racing, his legs were steady as he returned to his room to dress. Sam and Cas were both gone, but there was a smell of breakfast wafting through the hall, bacon and pancake batter. Dean's stomach gurgled, but not unpleasantly. Food would be welcome.

Jack eyed him nervously as he walked into the kitchen, turning away quickly to talk to Cas. Sam gave him a small smile from the hob, flipping a pancake. Dean sat.

"You were screaming," Jack said. Sam slid a plate over to him, possibly a subtle hint to get the kid to shut up. But Dean didn't have the energy to be angry.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Just a bad dream."

"It must've been really bad," Jack continued. "I thought I heard you begging, for something to stop."

Dean grunted.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, kid," he said, a little sharper than he had intended. Jack put his head down immediately and began to eat.

"Go easy," Cas said gently, Dean wasn't sure who he was talking to, to he said nothing, focussing on his own food when Sam placed it in front of him.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said gratefully. The bacon pancakes helped, and by the time he had finished, the nightmare itself bothered him less than his reaction to it. When he was done eating, Cas offered to do the washing up and whisked his and Jack's plates away before they could protest. Dean cast a hand down his face, yawning. It was early, too early for breakfast really, but too late to go back to sleep. "I'mma go look for a case," he said, standing, "we could use something to do."

Sam nodded to him, Jack didn't look up and Cas gave a half-smile as Dean once again left the room. He couldn't help the feeling that they were going to start whispering about him. Stupid, he thought they're not high school girls. He shook off his paranoia but was glad all the same when he shut his bedroom door behind him.

The first thing he did was change the sheets on his bed. Dean always did this after a nightmare, there was nothing worse than the cold damp of a feverish sweat the night before to remind you of the crippling fear you had barely escaped from. Then, he settled himself on his fresh sheets and got out his laptop, searching for any of the tell-tale signs of any unusual activity.

There wasn't much. A murder in Wisconsin, the murderer swearing up and down that he didn't do it, he wasn't in control. It could have been a demon, if not for the dozen witnesses, none of whom mentioned black eyes or a strange smoke coming from the murderer's mouth. There had been what appeared to be a beast attack, but after hacking into the morgue report, Dean thought it more likely to have been a mountain lion than a werewolf, the heart was still there, just not quite intact.

After an hour or so of dead end after dead end, Dean sighed and closed those pages, instead, getting up a Metallica playlist on youtube. He wasn't really sure what to do with himself for the rest of the day. Maybe he could go hang out with Cas. The angel had a calming presence when he himself was relaxed and Dean could use a little of that right now. Plus, Cas usually knew the right things to say, or not say, even when his brother didn't. So Dean admitted defeat on the case and left the room, hunting instead for his angelic friend.

He found Sam in the library, who asked him if he'd had any luck. Dean shook his head,

"You seen Cas?" he asked.

"Sure, he and Jack went to one of the rec rooms to talk some stuff out."

"Like what?"

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno, Dean, maybe the kid wants to know about his mom, maybe he wants to know more about Cas or weird angelic powers, take your pick."

"Whatever," said Dean, thumping down into a chair near his brother.

"Are you alright now?"

Dean snorted.

"I haven't seen you like that since-"

"Yeah, what do you want me to say, Sam? It was a nightmare, we've all had 'em. Us more than most people I'd bet."

"Dean, you looked like you were in real pain,"

"It's always real until you wake up. I don't get why you're so bothered by this, it was a nightmare, Sam, a one off, I'll have another one the next time a big bad shows up, and so will you. We both have crap floating around in our heads."

"I guess. I just thought that now we have Cas back, we might have less reason to be focussing on the bad stuff. I mean, aren't we entitled to enjoy the win?"

Because a win it was. It was exactly the win that Dean had needed, it was what he had prayed for, what he had hoped for. Cas was back. So why didn't it feel real?

"We've faced worse than dreams, Sam. It's still a win." It would be true. It would, he was just… overwhelmed. It was stupid but he had gone from suicidal to overjoyed in a matter of minutes and his brain was still spinning. The nagging in the back of his mind could shut the hell up, he just needed some time to really process everything that had happened, that was all it was. "He's really back, isn't he?" Dean said, a slow grin spreading on his face. His brother looked at him, looking both amused and unsurprised at whatever he found there.

"Yeah," Sam said softly, "yeah, he is."

Xxx

Dean slept better that second night, then worse the third, over the course of the next week his rest was sporadic, interrupted by strange images and an empty void and memories he had thought long buried, but he always managed to force himself awake before the screaming started.

On the week after Cas had come back, he had another quick search for a case and actually found something promising.

"Four people missing in Michigan," he said triumphantly, slamming the laptop on the table as he walked in, ready for breakfast.

"Is that a good thing?" Jack asked, his eyes darting to Castiel.

"No," the angel replied.

"Definitely not," said Dean, smiling. "I did some digging and around fourteen years ago, there were sixteen missing persons cases filed, all for the same area, only a couple of the bodies were ever found and they were torn up bad, so of course they put it down to a bear attack." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Wendigo?" Sam asked.

"Wendigo," Dean confirmed. "I'll get the blowtorch."

He grabbed a piece of toast from Sam's plate on the way out, ignoring the squawk of protest. He ate it in four bites as he headed out to the car and popped Baby's trunk, chewing as he searched the inside. They could use more lighter fluid, they'd have to get some on the way. The blowtorch wasn't in there, as he'd thought, but a flare gun was. Might be worth it to get a second one. If there were going to be four of them out there, and Jack still not completely in control of his powers, might as well arm the kid up right. Wendigos were bad sons of bitches. Dean was always antsy at the prospect as much as he could use a good old fashioned monster hunt. He was so tired of the human aspect creeping in; vamps that didn't kill, Garth a werewolf, friendly ghosts and half-friendly demons, it made his head hurt, not least because of the knowledge of the sheer amount of those things he had killed, not all of them had to have been as evil as he had once believed. But a wendigo? Definite monster, irredeemable killer. No second thoughts necessary. As dangerous as they were, Dean needed this.

Just like you needed Cas back, he thought, don't push your luck. Dean slammed down the trunk and jumped as he turned around. Cas stood there, a few feet away, watching him.

"Jeez Cas, don't sneak up on me like that."

"My apologies. I was just wondering whether or not I was needed on this Hunt." Cas didn't walk closer, he just tilted his head.

"Err," said Dean, taken-aback, "well, not needed, me and Sam can handle it if you don't wanna come."

"I am unsure if Jack is ready." Cas said, glancing back at the bunker door, "and I wouldn't want to leave him alone."

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded.

"I mean, I kinda thought that we could all go. Figured it might be nice to get out of the bunker for a bit, I'm going a bit stir crazy. You could always bring Jack and you and he could stay out of it if you wanted. But, you know man, I get it, if you'd rather stay here. I mean, it's not like you've had much of a chance to settle back in."

Castiel considered for a long moment, then he nodded, "alright. I'll talk to Jack. I would like to go on a Hunt again. I've missed it."

"Yeah," Dean said, "Well, it'll be good for us. Maybe actually save some people while we're there."

"Sounds like a plan."

They both grinned at each other, eyes meeting. Once again, something felt different. Not off, exactly, and it wasn't trauma either, Dean was no stranger to that look. But it was different to how he remembered it. Something had shifted in Cas' eyes, and it was going to bug Dean until he figured out what it was.

"You sure you're okay?" It was stupid to ask, there was nothing wrong, there wasn't anything in Cas' eyes he hadn't seen before. Fondness, amusement, confusion, even a touch of concern.

"Dean, we've faced down Lucifer, I think we can deal with a wendigo," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Right," said Dean, looking away. Trying not to think about how facing down Lucifer had gone for them last time, "we got this."

Xxx

Twelve hours later, Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. Jack had fallen asleep around hour seven, his head lolling on Cas' shoulder. Sam had taken a power nap between hours five and nine, but he had perked up since they stopped for coffee and food at the halfway point. Cas had, of course, been awake the entire time. Dean's own eyes were itching but he parked Baby smoothly and went in to get them rooms. He got three rooms as a last-minute decision, making sure the third was on the other side of the motel to the other two. Despite there being plenty of space. Sam had huffed at the unnecessary expense when Dean had come back with the keys, but Dean insisted that he'd had enough of listening to Sam snore for one night. Cas decided to share with Jack, but offered to go and case out the nearby state park for any signs of the wendigo as he wouldn't actually need the spare bed in any case. Both Sam and Dean insisted he stay at the motel.

"We don't hunt wendigos at night," Dean said, running a hand through his hair, exasperated by the look of 'don't patronise me' on the angel's face, Sam stepped in,

"Look, Cas, it's not that we don't think you're more than a match for the thing-"

"-but we don't know that you are." Dean finished. "We've never hunted one of these with you before, we don't know how you match up strength-wise. Maybe you can take it easy, but I'm not taking chances, you hear?"

Cas set his jaw but met his eyes and nodded, then he and Jack headed to their room. Sam looked after them, then back to Dean.

"He won't do anything stupid," he said, "I doubt Jack would let him if he tried."

"Oh, sure, well that's comforting." Dean rolled his eyes, staring in the direction the angel had gone. Cas seemed normal, he was acting normal, he was his usual self and nothing was out of the ordinary, but there had been two hours when only he and Dean had been awake. They had talked about possible plans, Dean had caught Cas up on a bit of Wendigo lore, Cas had commented that Dean looked tired and had offered to drive for a while and it was all just so… usual. Nothing about that exchange stood out to him, nothing even hinted that anything was different. Except that it was.

Sam pushed him gently on the shoulder and told him to get some sleep, apparently, he thought that Dean looked tired too. He headed in the same direction Cas had gone, their rooms were next to each other after all. Then, Dean spun on his heel and headed the other way. He had claimed there were no other vacancies, but only Jack had seemed to accept this, Cas had squinted at him and Sam had glanced pointedly around the empty parking lot.

Dean collapsed onto the bed as soon as he locked the door behind him. He did need to sleep, he knew, but he still jerked away from it, still fought to stay awake, despite his stinging eyes and the fact that no one would hear him if he screamed.

Xxx

Dean tore through the flesh of another soul and laughed at its screams. He tasted the blood that splattered onto his lips and grinned maniacally. This was fun. This was so much more fun than worse days. Alistair was actually tutoring him now, showing him exactly how he did what he did and all the best ways to extract all those delightful little noises. The best ways to do his job. How to make each day different, just ever so slightly worse. He could do this for eternity, he could-

No

Dean opened the soul's sternum and started cracking ribs. He liked doing that, he liked the sound it made, a clean snap, unless he twisted, then there was some fun grinding, and of course, the screams. He'd been doing this for ten years now. He still had much to learn. Alistair kept telling him how good he had become, how he had learned so well. Dean sucked up his praise like oxygen, but Alistair still scared him, he still had tricks he was reserving from Dean and Dean wanted to earn them.

Something felt different today. But nothing was. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was going to happen, something terrifying, something exciting, something unforgettable.

Alistair came to him between souls to give him notes on his technique. He had improved so much, Alistair said, he was very proud. He smiled as he said so, and every time Alistair smiled like that, Dean felt snakes writing in his guts.

"You've done so well, Dean," Alistair murmured, "but let me show you how it's really done. Here, let's compare, shall we?"

Dean nodded mutely as Alistair led him to the rack and tied him on. This was how he learned. He did it right or he experienced it both ways.

It was definitely interesting. The screams and whimpers Dean made always managed to ramp up a notch when Alistair did the comparison. Not that Dean's technique wasn't bad, but Alistair's was worse, the pain it caused was completely different and Dean was proud that he could differentiate between the two. So, a new twist of the knife it was, notching the bone, just on the nerve, exquisite, beautiful, torturous. Dean was re-made and Alistair helped him off the rack.

"Do you understand now?" He asked, eyes glittering.

Dean grinned at him, blood in his mouth.

"Yes," he said, "I think I do,"

He started work on another soul immediately, those screams, they were musical, much better that the ones his previous technique had gotten him. He revelled in them, almost dancing around the soul as he hacked and carved and sliced and tore.

Once he had finished, Alistair came to him once more, clapping his hands, praising him, gripping him hard by the shoulders and pressing his mouth to Dean's. It was usual. But as Alistair led him away, Dean couldn't help but think that something should have happened today. Something new.

Xxx

Dean jolted upright, the screams dying in his throat. He had actually voiced them this time. Not that that was surprising. His dreams of Hell were always the worst, no matter what else came after, the nightmares of his brother falling into the pit, Cas walking into that river, Purgatory, the Mark of Cain, his time as a demon, nothing compared. Nothing even came close to the terror that his old nightmare of Hell could conjure. But that particular one had been… particularly unpleasant. Especially knowing now that the thing he was so sure was going to happen would have been Cas coming to save him. Not that he really remembered that. He could remember every single moment of those forty years in Hell, every second, except for those last few.

It was still dark outside, the digital clock read 3:27am. He'd been asleep for three hours. That was good enough he supposed. He could Hunt on that. Besides, it's not as though he could get back to sleep if he tried. Not that he would. He flung the covers back, just as a loud knock came on his door. He yawned and stumbled over to it, yanking it open, it was Cas.

"What's wrong?" the angel asked, immediately scanning the room for danger, stepping inside and going to check the bathroom too.

"What? Nothing, I just woke up. Why are you here?"

"You prayed for me. It sounded urgent." Castiel frowned, satisfied that the wendigo wasn't hiding in the shower.

"Oh," Dean rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, "Cas, really, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry I bothered you, it was just a bad dream."

Cas folded his arms.

"You've been having a lot of those recently. You look exhausted."

"Yeah, well, me and nightmares are old friends, wouldn't be right if they didn't come for a visit every once in a while."

"Are you sure there's nothing else? Your prayer sounded… well, I was worried."

"Yeah, I'm good. What about you, Cas? Are you good?"

"I'm good," replied the angel, eyes narrowed in suspicion, "you've been… concerned about me since I got back. Why?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little… different, is all. I thought maybe something happened to you out there."

"I don't feel any different," Cas said, glancing down at himself, "perhaps it just seems that way because we now have Jack and nothing is exactly the same," he smiled.

And that was it. It finally clicked. There wasn't something new in Cas' eyes, it was the lack of something. Something that Dean had gotten so used to, just accepted it as a part of the angel's personality. The way that Cas was keeping a natural boundary between them, the lack of physical contact, the briefness of their hug, and the look in his eyes, that shift. Cas looked at him differently now. He still looked at him like a friend, yes, like he cared for him, yes. But it was different.

He looks at me the same way he looks at Sam Dean realised, why did that bother him so much?

xxx

"Dean and I do share a more profound bond" the angel said, shrugging apologetically and glancing between the two brothers "I wasn't going to mention it."

xxx

That was it. That 'profound bond', the thing that had made Dean and Cas best friends, the lack of personal space, the intensity in every conversation, the understanding between them. That was gone.

Dean didn't think, he slammed the angel into the wall, arm at his throat,

"Dean, what-?"

"What did he do to you?" Dean demanded, "what did that thing do?"

"Dean, stop!"

Dean paused, then took a step back, letting the angel drop. Cas straightened up, brushing off his coat.

"I told you what happened in the Empty," Cas said, impatiently. "He looked through my memories, he threatened me, he complained about wanting to sleep, but that's all, that's it. I have no gaps in my memories and nothing new. I have no heightened aggression, no ill effects at all. There's nothing wrong with me, Dean."

Dean stepped back and sank onto the bed. Everything he had just been so certain of was thrown into doubt. Maybe he was imagining things, maybe he'd been imagining things for years, maybe he was only now seeing the truth. He wasn't special, Cas wouldn't look at him like that, he'd never looked at him like that in the first place. Nothing was gone, it had just never been there. He was tired, he was so tired, it felt like an anvil had been placed on his head, slowly crushing him. The joy of having Cas back had placed stupid ideas in his head, idealistic visions, where he and Cas had had much more than mere friendship. They had been indefinable, unique. The truth was that the angel cared about them both equally. There was nothing wrong with that, he was ashamed to even think that there was.

"You're right," he whispered, head in his hands, "you're right, it's me."

Cas sighed and then sat next to him on the bed. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, the calming presence only slightly settling the turmoil going on inside of him.

"Dean, you've barely slept, you're exhausted and you're paranoid. Maybe you should stay here with Jack and get some rest, me and Sam can handle the wendigo."

"No," Dean said, standing, letting the angel's arm fall away. "I'm good. I just realised something. I've been acting really stupid, I'm sorry. I just… I'm gonna shower, okay? I'll come over to you and Sam in a couple of hours and we can work out a plan."

"Alright." Cas stood, seeing that he wouldn't be dissuaded. "In a couple of hours then," Cas headed towards the door but Dean called him back last second,

"Cas?"

He turned.

"Are you happy? With being back, with Jack, the bunker, with us? Everything?" Dean knew it was stupid, but he had to ask.

"I enjoy my life, Dean," Cas said, not commenting on the unusual phrasing of the question, seeming to sense that Dean was not in the mood to be mocked, "as hard as it can be, I know that we are doing good. And I'm surrounded by friends who care about me and who I care about. Yes, I'm happy."

Dean breathed out a sigh, and nodded, deciding in that moment to let it go, to stop obsessing over every minute difference he invented. He went into the bathroom and emerged twenty minutes later with a new resolve.

So what do you think?

This has been an idea floating around in my head but it was so hard to write! I'm really not sure I pulled it off, the subtle change in Dean and Cas' relationship was really difficult so at times I think I made it too obvious.

Feedback would be really helpful on this if you have the time. I'm hoping to finish this story ASAP, as in, before 13x06 airs.

Love you guys,

Tibbins xx