A/N: Hello, hope you enjoy. The story is more deep friendship (so it's canon) but it does have hint that there is something more. Written when there was a week long power outage in my town.

Spoilers: Up to Season 7x05, thought mostly it just spoils the end of season 6.

"Hello Dean," A familiar voice spoke beside him. Dean could tell exactly who it was without looking, even before the rough coarse voice had spoken. The flutter of wings was a dead giveaway.

"Hey, Cas." Dean smiled softly, not raising his gaze to that of the angels. He instead focused on the view before him as Cas sat down to his right on the wooden bench.

Trees surrounded the open expanse of land before them, lined with a soft blue cloudless sky. Green grass swayed gently with the soft breeze, as the wind caused the colorful leaves down, to gracefully land upon the earth. The temperature was a little chilly, but not uncomfortably so with Dean wearing his jacket. The sound of running water could be heard from far off, and Dean remembered that there was a small river just beyond the trees on the opposite end from where he sat.

"How are you?" Cas asked, his face turning to look at Dean's. His blue eyes watched carefully, as the smile slowly faded from the elder Winchester's lips. Even so, Castiel could tell that the man was content. His mouth may be expressionless, but Cas read the way his eyes looked upon the expanse, relief and comfort seen in his gaze.

Dean watched as two birds flew around, as if playing tag with each other. He never understood why Cas asked him that. The angel could read his mind at any point in time, could know his thoughts with almost no effort at all. Why ask a question you can answer on your own?

He sat still, expression still unchanging as he thought about how many times the angel had asked him that question in the past months.

You see, Dean Winchester was what most would call a tortured soul. He'd lost his mother as a child, his father only a few years ago, he'd witnessed so many deaths, he'd lost friends, his brother had died in his arms, and he'd even been to both Heaven and Hell. Hell being the worse of the two, but knowing what was there for when he died, wasn't exactly all that comforting.

So, with being a tortured soul, Dean Winchester suffered from nightmares. Well, nightmares seemed too childish a word, unfitting for how old the hunter felt. Night terrors suited better. He would normally fall into unconsciousness, finding himself to be in hell, torturing more souls, following Alastair's orders and enjoying how quickly it was to break someone. Those dreams, scared the shit out of him. He'd lived that life, well death, and he didn't want to revisit those years.

But his subconscious mind wanted nothing more than to throw him into hell every night.

So, in the typical Dean Winchester way, he'd taken to not sleeping. Or drinking so much as to be unconscious, and dreamless. It was the only way to avoid waking up every night in a cold sweat, the visions unfading from his mind's eye.

Castiel had been spying one night, trying to assure the safety of both Sam and Dean while some of Raphael's angels wandered around the motel they pair had chosen to stay at.

It was a good thing Cas had been cloaking himself, or Dean would have saw him when he shot up from the mattress, his breath ragged and heavy. Castiel had been confused by it, so the next night, he had watched the man sleep. He watched the way his eyes twitched beneath his eyelids, as if looking around scared. He kept muttering something under his breath and Castiel decided it would be easier to invade the mans mind then to try and ask the stubborn hunter about his dreams.

Castiel awoke in Dean's mind, to find the man grazing a knife against the body of another soul. Just enough for them to bleed, and heard the screams clawing at his mind.

He'd quickly walked over to Dean, grazing the burn mark on the hunter's shoulders, as he erased hell from the mans vision.

Now it was almost a daily occurrence. Dean would fall asleep, and instead of being greeted with a wicked grin and a set of knives, he was greeted with landscapes of places he'd seen before on hunts. Amazing landscapes that hadn't caught his attention, but still lay as dormant memories in his mind. All Castiel did was fish them from the back of his mind and used them as a way for Dean to relax. For Dean to sleep, and awake rested and content. Instead of scared and even more exhausted then if he had chosen against sleeping.

In these nights, his mind was free from hunts, free from thinking about Sam without his soul, of the chance that the world might be ending again, of every thought that plagued his waking mind. All that remained were these clear blue skies and beautiful expanses. Sometimes Dean would find himself on a bench, sometimes sitting on the roof of his car, and even once he'd found himself resting on the edge of a dock, fishing rod in his hands.

All he could feel was the way the air felt crisp around them, the smells of autumn filling his mind. It was beautiful, and amazing and Dean realized that he still hadn't answered the question Cas had so patiently asked him.

"I'm fine," Dean replied, unsurprised when a small smile graced his lips. Under most circumstances, no one would ever believe those words escaping from Dean's stubborn lips. No matter how forceful he spoke, the words were always lies. There was no way a man who'd gone through as much as him and Sam could say that he was fine.

Dean would never admit it, or at least not aloud, but he was so thankful for these dreams. They were the only thing keeping him from drinking into oblivion. The thought of anyone, especially other angels, invading his mind was downright creepy. But, with Cas it was different. Cas was always the exception he pondered, no matter the situation. Maybe it was their friendship. Maybe it was because Cas had been the one to free him from hell. Maybe it was something else entirely.

"What about you, feathers? Raphael isn't kicking your ass up there is he?" Dean asked worriedly. As much as he joked, or called on Cas for help, he cared how the war was going.

Cas smiled faintly, but kept his gaze towards the distance, focusing on a small critter that had wandered into the open expanse. Luckily a small battle had sent Raphael back to regroup, leaving him at least several hours to relax. As it was, he should more then likely be in heaven, assembling his soldier's for the next fight, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. These moments with Dean were special to him, and under the constant stress of battle, this dimension in Dean's mind was the only comfort he had.

Like Dean he was too stubborn to mention just how much the battles were wearing on him. Having to kill his brothers and sisters was not an easy task, and he would much rather be back when his only enemy was demons and strange creatures. That and his deal with Crowley weighed heavy on his mind, and he wished he had the strength to ask Dean for help. But he knew how Dean would react. So he kept it a secret still.

His comrades, his 'family' were also beginning to make things more stressful. While Dean asked how he was through strange nicknames and crude terms, he at least cared. He could not say the same for anyone else. All the other angels in the war cared about, was if he was strong enough for the next battle.

Dean glanced over as the angel as he pondered the question, a strange look of guilt in his eyes, that Dean thought was merely from killing his brethren. "All is well, for now," Cas said, finally getting himself to reply, but Dean could see that it wasn't fine. He decided against pushing it, thinking that it would only make Cas put a wall between them. He had told his feathered friend before, that if he ever needed help, to just ask, and Dean was sure that the angel need not be reminded.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"Could you tell me something, Dean?" Cas asked suddenly, disrupting Dean's thoughts. Dean looked over at Castiel, confusion in his gaze. Cas was looking down at his hands, turning them over, as if to look at the blood stained into his mind. Dean knew the action with disturbing familiarity. With a shrug he responded.

"Yeah,Cas?"

Cas was frowning, still gazing at his hands, though he had stopped turning them. Instead he lay them out, palms up as he slowly clenched them into a fist. "How do you do it? How do you fight a battle with no good ending?"

Dean puffed out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, before leaning into the back of the bench with a sigh. "It sucks doesn't it?"

Cas shrugged, bringing his gaze to watch over Dean's movement.

They sat in silence for several moments; Castiel waiting for a proper response, and Dean thinking of one. It felt like hours that they sat there waiting, for in reality it was only several minutes. "Sam," Dean finally uttered, letting his head fall back against the hard wood to stare at the blue expanse above him.

"If it wasn't for Sam, I'd have thrown myself off a cliff by now." A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he spoke, but they both knew it was far from a joke. "We may have always gotten angry at each other, and I've gone the past year without him, but every damn time I think about calling it quits, his stupid fucking bitch face shows up in my head."

Cas smiled fondly at the mental image of Sam's 'bitchface'. He'd seen it on many occasions, and had even been on the opposite end of it a few of those times. The face brought amusement in him, even though it was a display of anger and annoyance for the younger Winchester. Cas was about to respond, when Dean continued in his explanation.

"When you find someone, that no matter how pissed they make you, they make you want nothing more then to protect them, that person really gives you motivation to keep going." Dean's head shifted back down, looking around the expanse, noticing how quiet it had changed to as Dean had spoken.

Cas' smile faded from his lips, as he instantly thought of who in his many millions of existence, fit into that category. That person was to his left on a bench, in the man's mind. "I believe I have someone like that," Cas explained, almost a whisper and Dean had almost not heard him.

"Who?" Dean asked even though there was no reason to. Castiel knew all of five people, two of them were dead, and he seriously doubted that Cas cared that much about Bobby. Friends, sure, but not that deep kind of friendship Cas was referring to. Dean doubted it was one of the other angels. Cas seemed close to Balthazar, but not that much. All that left was himself.

Castiel didn't respond, only letting his gaze drop from viewing the leaves blowing across the open expanse, to look over at the elder Winchester. Guilt and regret filled his blue eyes once more, and Cas knew Dean would be able to read it in his face. But, Cas knew that Dean had no idea what it was that Cas felt so guilty about.

Cas wanted to respond to the question, but he was wary to. Once again, Dean had asked him a question that he already knew the answer to. He wondered if it was a human thing, but the thought left him, knowing it was a Dean thing. Something his human had a habit of doing quite often. He finally leaned back on the bench before he replied.

"Every time I'm fighting, every time I'm watching the light of a fallen sibling filling the air, I hear your voice speak to me. It's not your voice really, but more just the thought of you. It is the same words in every instance, and it talks whenever I begin to doubt myself, and my choices." Cas spoke softly, looking into Dean's eyes, scared that maybe this was too much to tell his human companion.

Dean stared back, curiosity getting the better of him. "Mind telling me what my wise ass says to you?"

Cas held his stare before turning away in order to shake the sadness from him. He did his best to imitate the tone of the older Winchester. "He's pretty tough for a litter nerdy dude with wings."

Dean began laughing, full heatedly. He could imagine himself saying those words to Cas, when the angel was in a tough situation, and he knew what the angel meant when those words were him, and not just Dean's thoughts. As his laughter subsided, a small smirk stayed on his lips, Cas watching every movement.

Cas sighed, but out of content instead of the usual sigh from the stress. These were the types of moments that Cas loved and longed for during every fight. He wishes that he could stay here always with Dean. He wished that the troubles that plagued the two of them would fade away.

As if a switch had been flicked, the atmosphere around them changed suddenly. Where before there was comfortable silence, now the air felt tense and awkward. Dean worried that Cas would leave, but waited for the angel to speak. Cas finally gathered enough courage to do so.

"I am sorry, Dean." Cas muttered. Realizing that moments like these would probably never happen again besides in these dreams made the angel downright depressed. It was his fault that Dean was suffering, his fault for what was to come in the future, his betrayal that hadn't hurt Dean yet, it soon would.

"For what? You have no reason to apologize!" Dean yelled though he wasn't angry. More annoyed that after years of helping him and Sam, that the angel still felt the need to apologize all the time for things that weren't his fault. "Cas, I know there have been some tough times between us, but you don't need to keep saying your sorry. You're...you're one of the best friends I've ever had."

Cas couldn't help but smile slightly, at hearing Dean say those words. He looked over to Dean, seeing the man stand from his spot on the bench. As he stood, Cas could hear the leaves beneath his feet crunching.

"Get up."

Cas' head tilted to the side in confusion, curious as to why Dean wanted him to stand. "Where is it you want to go Dean? I can move-" He was interrupted when Dean leaned down, grabbing the angels arms before pulling him up. Dean sent him a devilish smirk, as he tugged the angel to walk with him.

"Haven't you ever just wandered around, no place in mind? Just to feel the earth beneath your feat?" Dean asked, knowing full well the angel probably hadn't. Even if the angel had feet, in his true form that is.

He could at least show Cas the joy in peaceful conversation, while taking a walk through peaceful expanse.

Cas gave the man a skeptical look, but decided it sounded like a good idea. That and it was obviously a distraction from what Dean had admitted to him. "I hardly thought you the type." Cas stated, walking in time to Dean's slow stride.

Dean shrugged, not looking at the angel. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. I'd never hear the end of it."

Cas would not. He wouldn't tell anyone about any of this. If Dean decided to tell anyone how the angel helped the man sleep, he would not be upset, but for now, Dean hadn't given interest in speaking about it. He didn't even talk to Cas about.

Dean began idle conversation, not really getting into anything too deep; worried about the awkward tension that had risen between them the last time. He instead spoke of small things, like memories he had with Sam when they were younger.

The pair talked for hours, though it was mostly Dean doing the talking. Cas had decided to quietly listening as Dean explained many things. Like how to do the basic maintance on his 'baby', some of the movie references that he made in the angels presence. Cas had been severly confused at the car that could travel through time. He pondered if perhaps an angel had helped, though it was rather difficult to move an entire car. Dean had laughed, stating that it was only a movie.

They things they spoke off seemed so pointless compared to the things going on in the waking world. Yet Castile could tear himself away. Cas had never had this kind of conversation before. He'd never talked about useless things, while the rest of the world was on the brink of dying. It brought a pleasant warmth throughout his body, that he knew would settle back into something worse, once he left. Was it really so selfish of him, to want to stay for as long as he could? To enjoy the other mans company in a way that the pair had never had the chance to in the past?

Castiel realized, he might not even have that much time left to spend with the man at all. Dreams or not. The thought brought him so much worry and regret, that he wondered if Dean could read it in his face.

If he did, he kindly ignored it, for which Cas was grateful.

Cas slowly began to open up to Dean as well. He spoke about the way the galaxy had shined when it was first formed, the way sand felt on his feet the first time god had let them walk the earth, and he even mentioned a meeting that Cupid had attended, describing how angry Zachariah was at their 'handshake'. Cas laughed fondly at the memory, loving the grimace that had fallen on the elder angel's lips.

Dean sighed softly. He realized that while in a dream, time was estranged, he'd been asleep for a decently long amount of time, and he'd need to wake up soon. As if reading his mind, Cas stopped his stride to look over at Dean. Dean followed suit, and the two had one of their very many staring contests, that no one really won. Cas spoke first, "Thank you Dean. That was...pleasant." His eyes were now facing the ground, as if embarrased. But his gaze was focused up, when the elder Winchester pulled him into a hug. Cas stood awkwardly before returning the tight embrace.

"Feel free to haunt my dreams whenever, Cas." Dean stated, before slowly unwrapping himself at the angel. He was not about to mention the loss he felt at not having the angels warmth against his chest.

Cas yearned to embrace Dean again, but knew that for humans, it was awkward to hug very long, or often. He noted that he could still smell Dean with the closeness of Dean's stance; cinnamon, leather, and the lightest hint of whiskey and old books. A smell that was characteristically Dean Winchester.

Dean smiled down at the angel, looking into those crystal blue eyes once more before he awoke. He noticed the glossy appearance, but before he could wonder why, the dream ebbed away. The memory quickly fading it, leaving Dean with mixed emotions and no explanation.

Normally Cas let him remember his dreams, for which Dean was happy. He could only tolerate someone messing with his brain so much. But for some reason, as he tried to recall his encounter with Castiel, nothing came to him, but conflicting emotions. No words, or even the landscape. All he knew, was that the dream left him confused. Not enough to question Cas', but enough to bother him for the next hour. Yet at the same time, he couldn't keep a smile from his lips. Which just made things worse.

Cas frowned as he watched the confused hunter.

Dean would never remember any of that dream. He would more then likely even forget the confusion he'd awoken with.

But Cas,

Castiel would never forget that dream.

Cas, from tehn on rarely visited Dean in his dreams, keeping a distance. He always made sure that Dean didn't suffer from his night terrors, but he never stopped for idle conversation.

It wasn't until Cas was gone, killed by protecting the world, protecting him, that Dean realized just how powerful it was to go a night without being reminded of the things he regret, how much he missed his own personal sandman.