A loud moan.
That's what Sam wakes up to in yet another crappy motel room. He sighs and turns of the light to glance at the huge sun-shaped clock on the wall. 3 am.
It feels weird, the way Dean's nightmares start almost at the same hour every night. Sam has even considered that it might be a spell. But deep down he knew it wasn't. The only person doing this to Dean was Dean himself.
Sam sighs. "Dean." he calls out. No reaction. Not like he expected one. He runs a tired hand across his face. Any other would be annoyed by now, but he's just really sad. He misses his big brother, the strong one. The one who taught him how to walk, how to ride a bike, how to drive. The one who told him he would always protect him, the one who had sat with him one night and explained him in details why thunderstorms weren't something to be afraid of, the one who taught him how to fight.
Dean barely even fights these days.
Sure he fights and kills demons, but he acts like he doesn't care if he lives or dies. And Sam knows for a fact that it's at least partly his fault. He knows the secrets and the lies have caused his brother's defeat, but he's doing what he thinks is good, right?
Another moan, louder, sharper. "Dean, wake up." Sam calls again. Still no reaction. He can hear his brother shift under the covers. He's about to get up and shake Dean awake when his eyes come across a figure in the corner.
Castiel.
The angel doesn't even glance at Sam before walking up to Dean's bed. Sam wants to protest, tell him now isn't a good time and whatever brought him there can wait, but the angel looks sharply at him and it's enough to silence him.
As soon as he's sure Sam won't interfere, Castiel looks back down at the whimpering man in the bed. Slowly, he lays his hand on the older hunter's forehead and waits. In a second, the anguished sounds stop and Dean's body visibly relaxes.
They all stay like this for a few seconds before the angel withdraws his hand. He doesn't smile, but a look of satisfaction betrays him. He looks at Sam again and nods once before spreading his invisible wings and flying away as silently as he came.
Sam just sits there in awe, trying to process what has just happened. He looks at his brother. Dean's face is peaceful, his breathing is even, his body relaxed. He hasn't been that peaceful since he came back from Hell. Sam smiles and silently thanks Castiel for giving his brother some true rest, at least for a while.
He hopes the angel will come again tomorrow night. And the next night. And the next night.
The End.
Just something I've imagined a few months ago. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think.
nerwende