Light on. Light off. Half asleep. Light on. Light off. Sleep. Half asleep. Light on. Off. On. Off. On.

Sam got Dean out of Purgatory, but no one could get Purgatory out of Dean. A restless night like this became a routine for Dean Winchester, the hunter who had saved the world at least twice. Dean stared at the ceiling lit yellow by the bedside lamp, wondering if this was his reward or a punishment. Maybe it was neither. Maybe life just sucked, and he hit a jackpot. A very twisted jackpot.

"Hey Mr. Hollow Man, are you just gonna stay like that all night." After a long hesitation, Dean called out to the blankness in his room.

The owner of the voice materialized at the edge of Dean's bed. "Hello, Dean." Castiel's feature was as grim as usual, though he radiated sadness.

Dean didn't bother to sit up, not even looked at the man. But despite acting indifferent, Dean felt the tension on his shoulders relax just a little. "I don't need to see you to know you are here, Cas. But standing like that? At my feet? That's creepy, man." Dean allowed himself to smile.

"I'm sorry." Castiel dropped himself by the edge of the bed. "I thought it would be less awkward if I'm absent from your view." His voice low and unsure. Castiel sounded guilty.

"Again, Creepy." Dean repeated his statement. His eyelids were heavy, but every time he closed them, he would see a red pair of glowing eyes staring back at him. He would hear the sound of fangs tearing into flesh, the howl of a wolf, tree leaves and branches grating, and his own scream echoed in his ear. It's not sleeping that Dean had a problem with, but his mind that kept displaying the endless night in Purgatory. It was all a living nightmare, and it was consuming Dean inside out.

Seeing Castiel sitting by the edge of his bed, even when the angel was folding himself smaller, made Dean felt like he was safe for the first time in a very long night. Not that Dean would admit his feeling to himself, but the night was not so repulsive with Castiel around, and Dean would not let him go anyway.

"We… have been with each other for a very long time, Dean. I chose to follow you, but you were forced to stay with me." Castiel looked down at his hand on his lap.

"Then why are you here?" Dean asked, got up, half lying against the headboard.

"I want to know if you're safe." Castiel admit, though more like to himself, not to Dean.

"And do you know now if I'm safe?"

"You seem trouble." Castiel glanced at Dean before turning away.

With Castiel's answer, Dean held his breath. At that moment, there was no thought on Dean's mind. All he saw was Castiel and all he could feel was Castiel. "Come here, Cas."

Castiel almost flinched at the touch of Dean on his arm. Dean did not press his fingers, nor did he grab it. It was just a soft touch, as lightest as possible. But to Castiel, he felt like it was electrifying his body he had no choice but to comply. The angel crawled into the bed, grazing along Dean's body under the blanket, hypnotized by the tip of the finger that was guiding him.

Dean pulled Castiel close, took the angel hand, and wrapped it around his waist. Castiel did not need more than that to want more. Slowly, Castiel cradled Dean back to his pillow. He cared for Dean as if the hunter was made of glass. Dean finally found his home. As Castiel laying him down, Dean let himself be carried away by the comfort of Castiel's embrace. Their eyes locked. So many things that they used to say now left unsaid. In one aspect, Purgatory was a safer place for Dean to be himself, taking the mask of a hunter off, be the man whose live was to love, but was never loved with such devotion like Castiel's.

The angel's blue eyes still fixed on Dean when he took the space beside the hunter. The hand that wrapped around Dean's waist traced up to Dean's hand. Beautiful, Castiel thought as he laced his fingers between Dean's.

The warmth Castiel shared through his palm offered a better comfort than Dean's wool blanket. Dean urged the angel closer as he was leaning in himself. They had rested on the same pillow, but Dean shortened their gap by pressing his forehead on Castiel. This feel right, Dean thought, as he was breathingon Castiel. He could feel their noses almost touching, could see each of Castiel's long eyelash aligned itself in order, Castiel even smelled like wild vanilla.

"There's no monster here." Dean whispered.

"No. Not while I'm with you."

"Then don't go."

"Alright."

For the last time of the night, Dean turned off his lamp, drifted off to his peaceful Dean. Castiel watched Dean, like he always did in Purgatory. The realm wounded Castiel as well, but the nostalgia he had while observing Dean rested, was somehow Castiel's treasured memory.

Dean woke up to a crow of a rooster somewhere. It was too warm in his blanket when Dean realized someone's spooning him. Castiel. Dean must have shifted himself while he slept, and Castiel kept his word. Though the chest pressing against Dean's back was too stiff, too tensed, Dean felt a butterfly in his stomach. Outside was still dark and the day hadn't broken yet, but at least Dean got a few hours sleep. The best sleep ever since he came back to earth.

"Hey, Cas." Dean said as he pressed himself closer to Castiel.

"Hello, Dean."

Same old Castiel. Never changed the phase. Dean smiled to himself. Castiel changed, then changed back.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 5.20"

"Then… Let's go up."

Castiel could mojo them to the roof in an instant, but Dean insisted that they should climb, and also brought their blanket to the rooftop seat. He opened his window, and half climb-half crawl his way to the top before dropped himself on a ridge. He motioned for Castiel to follow. Castiel climbed reluctantly. Dean watched as Castiel moved step by step until he found his seat beside Dean.

The dark blue horizon slowly turned orange. Started from a thin line, the orange band expanded itself over once pitch black, then every color appeared. From the blackest black of the night, to sapphire, to amethyst, to ruby, and to gold, with millions of colors painted by the brush only god could make.

Dean turned to Castiel. The angel had never looked more human, or more angelic as the first sunshine greeted them. He looked young, and ancient. He looked beautiful, and intriguing. He was the most gorgeous thing Dean had ever laid his eyes on, even though Dean knew that wasn't true. Castiel felt Dean's focus on him, so he turned to meet Dean's green eyes as well.

"I have something to ask you, Dean." The wind was stronger Castiel had to speak louder.

"What is it?" Dean almost yelled because he heard nothing but the wind.

Castiel's hair flew messily. "Last night. Last night I realized one thing!"

"What?" Dean fought with the wind.

"The truth. My feeling. I have feelings!"

"That's good, Cas" Dean covered his ear that was exposing to the wind.

"Dean." Castiel talked with his normal volume.

Dean shouted back. "What!?"

Somehow, by miracle, the wind just died.

"Can I stay with you?" Castiel's voice was loud and clear like a bell ringing in Dean's ear. The funny thing was that Dean didn't mind at all.

"How long?" Dean asked, though he had his answer already.

Castiel paused, thinking, before he could answer "For as long as you let me stay."

"How about for the rest of my life?" Dean asked back. It was his turn.

Dean took off his silver ring. It was not worth much, but it was Mary's, so he kept wearing it like a part of himself. He showed the ring to Castiel. "Will you stay with me for the rest of my life, Cas?"

It was a cheesy line Dean had never thought he would say to anyone, not to mention a man… especially not an angel. Sometimes, Dean wondered if his life of saving people would ever get a reward after a long series of punishment. The look on Castiel's face, though, answered that question. And now Dean started to feel like he, too, would finally have a chance of happiness.