Author's Note: Hey y'all! This intro is gonna be especially long, so bear with me. There's a lot of backstory to cover. Image used is "Castiel" from luckyraeve's tumblr post/53292589051.

So, this is a collaboration I did with my best friend Cody. It grew out of a bad habit we got into of RPing over the phone. That is, he would text me saying "CAAAAS!" and I would text back saying "DEEEEAN!" and it would devolve from there. Our boys had many wild adventures, (one of them, involving Alistair, was sort of reincarnated as another fic under the title of "Mine",) and unexpected parties. (lol jk). And then one day I said, "Cody, what if Cas caught angel rabies?" and thus this fic was born. (The angel rabies ended up being less than a quarter of the overall plot, of course, but that doesn't matter.) The piece is written in alternating POVs between Dean and Cas and eventually Sam, switching pretty much every other paragraph. It's kinda a unique RP-style, if you read that sort of thing. Very new experience for the both of us.

Okay, so, if you're still interested in reading this by the time I've finished talking, there are some things you should know about the 'verse. Cas, fallen and almost Grace-less, has an apartment in Connecticut and a job at the local library. Sam is happily attending Yale Law School with a full ride. Dean is working hunts all alone in Maine. He and Cas have, miraculously, discovered their feelings for each other via phone calls and texts, and both have used the L word! (not lesbians.) There has been no actual anything though because, as I mentioned, Dean is in ME and Cas is in CT.

Right now, Dean is investigating a series of supernatural killings and attacks that have been worse than usual; more vicious, less predictable. It's like the monsters are all on steroids mixed with hallucinogens. Not pretty. A few months ago, on a hunt, he met a group of five well-meaning but very underprepared college students who want to be hunters. It's probably worth noting that shortly afterwards Dean and Cas got into a fight because Cas was jealous of one of the girls, Clem, who had a crush on Dean. Recently, they went on a hunt that was too big for them. Dean got the monster, but one of the kids, Sean, got killed in the process.

On top of this, Dean's been having nightmares for the past few days. Terrible dreams that scare the crap out of him, but that he point blank refuses to tell Cas about. Frustrated and worried about his boyfriend, Cas decides to sneak into Dean's head one night and eavesdrop on his dream… and that's where the madness begins. Enjoy!

VERY IMPORTANT: Not this chapter so much, but this fic gets VERY dark and scary very quickly, as bad as or worse than anything else I've written. Trigger warnings for violence, dub-con, non-con, character death, self-harm, and suicide attempt. Please don't read if anything mentioned above upsets you!

Chapter 1

"In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep"
River of Dreams, Billy Joel

This was it. Dean paused by the entrance, holding out his arms to slow down the four young hunters who were with him. "Me first. Stay quiet, and don't get yourselves killed." In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have brought them with him, but he needed backup and they were all he had. They had one chance to get this right, to destroy whatever had been making all the supernatural things in a 50 mile radius hulk out and act insane. Cautiously, Dean pushed the door open and headed inside.

There was nothing notable about the room he entered except the lingering smell of charred wood. Dean pressed forward, the others spreading out behind him. He went into the next room.

There, standing in the center of the room with his back to him, was a figure in a familiar trench coat.

"Hello, Dean." Cas turned to face him. "I've been waiting for you." Then the angel disappeared.

Before Dean knew what was happening, he heard screams behind him and he spun, lunging forward to grab Cas by the back of his coat and stop him, but the angel moved too quickly. A moment later, the four kids Dean had trained, had trusted, had gotten involved in this whole mess, were dead on the floor, blood seeping from their wounds.

Castiel slipped his angel blade back into his coat and looked at Dean.

"No," Dean whispered. "No, Cas, this isn't you. It can't be."

Cas smiled, stepping towards Dean. "I thought you'd never get here, little one," he said, voice swelling with power so that a window shattered and Dean had to press his hands to his ears to protect himself. "Come."

"Cas, please, you've got to pull yourself together."

Light was shining through Cas's eyes now, and he laughed, a sound that made Dean fall to his knees in the kids' blood and scream in pain. "My hunter," he said. "Look at me."

Dean didn't, though; he kept his eyes squeezed shut. When Cas fell silent, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming towards him. He had to get out of here. Had to leave. But a moment later, Castiel took his face in his hands almost tenderly. "Look at me, beloved," he repeated, fingers slipping up over Dean's eyelids and gently lifting them.

Dean looked, and his sight was burning, but Cas was beautiful, more beautiful than anything Dean had ever seen, and even as Dean screamed he smiled in awe. The angel's true form had a half-dozen faces, and each of those faces stretched into something akin to smiles in return. Then Dean saw no more.

He was helpless. Cas had stripped him of his weapons and his phone, and he never let Dean leave his side. Dean could only listen as the angel moved his way down the East Coast, slaughtering all those who stood in his way. When he tried to fight the monster that had once been his friend, Cas only laughed and held him. Effortlessly deflected his cries and his blows and his struggles until Dean was worn out, and then cradled him close like a sick child. And so Dean stayed with him, unable to fight and unable to run.

Sam caught up with them a few weeks after Maine. He came in too rashly, too eager to fight, and Castiel was ready for him. The angel moved away from Dean, leaving the hunter in darkness as Dean shouted for him to stop, stumbling along with arms outstretched and falling to the ground. A second later, the air was filled with cries that weren't his own, screams that were terrible and pained and almost inhuman, and then all was silent.

Castiel tore out of the dream with a half-shout that probably woke the couple next door, but right now they were the farthest thing from his mind. Part of him was glad he had entered Dean's nightmares, because now he knew that Dean would never have told him what exactly they were. Not when they featured Castiel — he tried not to think about the way it had felt for Dean to have his eyes scorched out of their sockets. And this was the third night in a row that Dean had suffered through it? One thing was certain, the dream was not normal. Something or someone was sending it to the hunter; it was too vivid, too realistic to be natural. Castiel was seized by an irresistible urge to fly to his hunter and just hold him, to whisper over and over that he would never let that happen, and to find whatever was slipping into Dean's head and destroy it.

The last embers of his Grace flickered as Castiel focused on them, willing them into flame. He had to fly, just once more. Had to get to where Dean was. With effort, Castiel shut away his fragmented thoughts, closed off the panic, and dropped into a meditative state. He could fly there, he thought fiercely. He just needed to prepare. It wasn't easy, but he ignored the part of him that warned that Dean wouldn't appreciate finding out that Cas had spied on him, that he would be afraid of the angel. When his mind presented him with images of Dean angel-proofing his apartment, of the look of terror on his face when he saw Cas in the doorway, Castiel shoved them away with single-minded determination. Dean needed help. And nothing was going to keep Castiel away from him now.

Somewhere in Maine, Dean slowly woke. He tried to shed the dream in layers, first discarding the ringing of screams in his ears, then divorcing himself from the darkness, forcing his eyes to open and see, take in the faint shapes illuminated by the soft blue light from his bedside clock. But he couldn't get rid of the deep trembling of his limbs, the terror that strangled him as surely as a noose as he huddled like a child under his blankets. It wasn't real, he repeated to himself. It's just a dream.

His reassurances didn't calm him and he sat up in bed, placing his face in his hands and concentrating on the rasping of his breathing. Damn it. Cas would want him to text him or call him, tell him that he'd woken up from the same dream a third time, a dream that was more real than reality, a dream that Dean could never tell his angel about. But that would just upset Cas, so Dean swung his legs out of bed. There were times when drinking was the only solution, and this was one of those times, no matter Cas's disapproval. He brought the fleece blanket from his bed with him, wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape and clutching it protectively in front of his chest with one fist as he walked toward the bedroom door. A soft rustle sounded behind him, familiar, but long unheard. Angel wings. Dean spun around, heart hammering in his chest. It couldn't be.

"Hello, Dean." The instant Castiel landed, he realized that he had grossly overestimated his own abilities. The room around him was being swallowed by moving patches of darkness, and he swayed on his feet, nearly falling before he put a hand on the wall to steady himself. "Dean, I'm sorry." Castiel panted, feeling the exhaustion threatening to overtake him. His whole body ached, especially the wispy shadows that used to be his wings, but he couldn't give in now. He had to make Dean understand. Castiel's next words were jumbled as he forced them out of his mouth, and he knew they weren't making sense. "I went into your dream tonight. I know it was wrong; I'm sorry. But I was so worried and—Dean, I would never do that. But that isn't the important thing." Castiel realized he was somehow sitting on the floor, but he couldn't remember his legs giving out. "There's something causing them, some kind of magic, but I couldn't—I couldn't trace it." Castiel's eyes closed and he fell to the side, but a hand wrapped around his arm, keeping him from cracking his head on the floor. "I wouldn't, Dean," he muttered hazily, and kept repeating the words over and over until true unconsciousness claimed him.

Cas. It wasn't fair that Dean's first reaction upon turning around and seeing the angel, his angel, was fear. He lurched away and his back slammed against the door, his mind bright with images of Cas as he'd last seen him, no,dreamed him. Cas with light bursting from his skin into a great and terrible figure that Dean couldn't see so much as feel, his bones humming from pure angelic power, his mind swallowed by the sublime, his eyes turning to fire and his throat raw from screaming. This wasn't the Castiel who'd taken him and led him through the dark like a crippled pet, barely speaking to him, just killing those who offended him and coming to comfort Dean with a rough hand placed on Dean's head or shoulder or the small of his back when it was over. This wasn't the Castiel whose actions forced Sam back into hunting, who meant to murder Dean's brother in front of him with Dean floundering out into the darkness, clutching at nothingness to try to stop them from killing each other. That Castiel didn't exist.

This was Dean's Cas. But his Cas couldn't travel like that, was barely an angel anymore, and here he was right in front of Dean. Apologizing.

Cas wasn't supposed to know about that, had promised not to go into Dean's head. For a moment, Dean wanted to scream at him, but then Cas collapsed to the floor, so Dean pushed his fear and anger back because goddammit, his angel needed him. He grabbed at Cas's arm to keep him upright as Cas mumbled some nonsense about magic. A moment later, Cas was out, his last thought unfinished on his lips.

Dean lowered him slowly to the floor and took a deep breath. This was Cas. He reached out a hand and touched Cas's cheek gently. Real. Even though dream Cas had felt real. Dean shuddered and shrugged his shoulders as if to physically shake the dream from him. It didn't work.

Even so, he lifted Cas onto his bed and carefully settled the angel's head on a pillow, then untied the black dress shoes, pulling them from Cas's feet and tossing them into the corner. There was nothing else he could really do. Cas had overdone it. And now there was another flicker of fear, a painful reminder that this was his angel and Dean loved him, that he wasn't some monster from a dream, and he was hurt. Dean draped the blanket he'd earlier had around his shoulders over Cas and shuffled into the kitchen. He grabbed his whisky from the cabinet where he'd let it rest unopened for a month, normally taking a beer instead when he wanted to drink. As he returned to the bedroom, he pulled up a chair from the kitchenette, placing it next to the bed and straddling it so that the back of the chair made a barrier between him and Cas. He opened the bottle.

Castiel came back to consciousness slowly, painfully. His head hurt so badly that he could almost ignore the burning sensation in the rest of him, like he had simultaneously pulled all of his muscles. Opening his eyes, he winced at the brightness outside. That meant it was day, which meant he had been unconscious for at least six hours. The memory of the last time he had seen Dean, the flash of naked terror in his eyes, pricked Castiel to full consciousness. Slowly, carefully, he rolled his head until he could look around the room, realizing as he did so that he had been moved to the bed. "Dean?" he whispered, praying that the hunter would respond.

"Hey, Cas," Dean murmured in reply. He was slumped over the chair, edges of its back pressing into his armpits, but he didn't care to move. His head was sideways along his upper right arm, and he blinked blearily at Cas. Somehow he'd fallen asleep. The whiskey must have helped. Of course, now the bottle was under his chair, where Cas might see it and bitch at him, so Dean carefully moved it with his foot until it was safely under the bed. No need to worry him over nothing. "You gonna tell me what happened? How the hell did you get here?"

Castiel could have cried. Not only had Dean answered, but when Castiel finally forced his eyes to focus on the hunter's face, he saw no trace of the fear from earlier. He did smell the alcohol fumes lingering in the room, but that wasn't a fight he could get into right now. He smiled tentatively at Dean, suddenly overwhelmed by just being able to see him again. Then Dean asked his questions, and the reality of the situation came crashing down around him. He struggled to a sitting position, resting his head against the peeling wallpaper and staring fixedly at the foot of the bed until the room stopped spinning. Although he would no doubt tell Dean the whole story eventually, Castiel decided to answer the easy question first. "I flew. The journey cost me more than I had expected, but I seem to have made it here in one piece. I'm not sure I could fly back anytime soon, though."

"Reckless," Dean said, tentatively reaching out a hand and touching Cas's shoulder before withdrawing it quickly. He stood, turned the chair around, and sat back down, settling his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "You shouldn't have come; you're not strong enough." That much had been abundantly clear from the moment Cas had landed. "You had me worried. And I didn't think you could fly anymore." Easy talk first, because how could he start off by yelling at Cas, with his slumped shoulders and tired eyes? Even if part of him desperately wanted to take the fallen angel by the lapels of his trench coat and shake, saying how could you, and you promised me you'd stay out of my head, and I didn't want you to know about that dream for a damn good reason. And, despite the circumstances, he was happy to see Cas.

"I didn't think I could fly either, but..." Castiel trailed off. There was no fear of Cas in Dean's eyes, but there was a tightness in his expression that spoke of frustration, anger, and maybe a little fear for him. "I had to come, Dean. What you're… experiencing..." Castiel's voice hitched slightly, even though he tried to keep it steady. "They're more than dreams. Something is causing them." He waited, hoping that Dean would be able to forgive him for breaking his promise.

"And you know that because you decided to fly around inside my brain after you promised not to. Nice, Cas." His voice was a little harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't say he cared all that much. What Cas had done to him was wrong, even though he had good intentions. Dean would forgive him, he knew, but not before this conversation.

Castiel wilted into the bed, trying not to look like Dean had just kicked him in the stomach. Dean was right, he knew. Castiel had no right to poke around Dean's dreams, and now that his initial panic for Dean's well-being had faded, he realized how uncomfortable he must be making the hunter. Dean hadn't wanted Castiel to know, but he had taken the knowledge anyway, and now Dean might not trust him anymore. The thought sent an icy jolt through his heart, but Castiel tried not to focus on it. "Dean, I am sorry. I know that what I did was wrong and there is no excuse for it." Not even that I was worried about the man I love, he added silently. "But no matter the content, those dreams are being influenced from an outside source, something powerfully magical. It may be the same thing that's been causing chaos up here."

Sheesh, Cas could look pathetic if he wanted to. It was enough to make Dean feel bad for an instant before he stifled the feeling. "What is it? You were talking about magic before. How can that be causing all this crap, Cas? Witches don't drive monsters crazy like they've been up here. And why would a witch want to make me have bad dreams?" And I still am pissed, he wanted to say, but Cas had already forced the conversation on and frankly, he didn't want to fight with Cas when he looked like he'd just run a gauntlet.

"I don't know, Dean. I've never heard of anything like it before." Castiel knew that Dean was still angry, and suddenly that seemed much more important to him than whatever was causing the supernatural chaos around them. "Dean," he began, then hesitated. He didn't know what to say. Watching Dean's face, he swallowed hard before continuing. "I am sorry. I took from you without your consent, and you have a right to be angry about it. But I would do it again if I had to." His eyes fixed on Dean's, silently begging him to understand, to forgive. "If I were troubled, you would do everything in your power to find out why so that you could help, you know you would."

"I'm not troubled." Dean frowned at the angel. "And I can't get into your head anyways, so it's kind of a moot point. Don't go poking around in there again, you hear me?" Dean knew that Cas would say "Yes, I hear you," but one thing was absolutely true about what Cas had just said: Cas would do it again if he felt he had to, which basically meant he would do it again, period. It was only a question of when. "It's a matter of trust, Cas." He crossed his arms loosely in front of him and glared.

"Yes, Dean, I hear you." Cas was still feeling very shaky, but he forced himself to swing his legs out of the bed anyway and sit facing Dean. For all their joking, flirting, and promising, this was the first time he had seen Dean in person since they had admitted to loving each other, and now that he was finally only a few inches from Dean, Cas was nervous. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and brushed his fingers along Dean's cheek. "I missed you, Dean,' he whispered, afraid the hunter would pull back from the touch, or worse, smack Castiel's hand away.

Dean relaxed when Cas touched him. Yes, this was how they were now, Dean sitting here knee to knee with his angel, letting Cas touch his face. This was good, and what the hell, he could put off being angry for a while for this. So he uncrossed his arms and caught Cas's hand as he pulled it away from his cheek. "I missed you too, Cas." He smiled now, blinking quickly a few times and saying, "I didn't expect seeing you the first time after everything to go exactly like this, though."

Castiel gave a weary chuckle. "Things never do seem to go as planned around us." Exhaustion was creeping back over him, and he shivered slightly as he realized just how close to completely burning himself out he'd actually come. Banishing the thought, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Dean's affectionately and enjoying the way Dean's incredible green eyes widened. "I love you, Dean," he breathed, wanting to be the first to say the words in person, to hear how well they rolled off his tongue.

Dean smiled and put his hands on either side of Cas's face, thumbs flat against Cas's cheekbones, and took a moment to appreciate the feel of Cas against his forehead, the touch of their noses together. Cas's breath was warm against his face, heightened, and Dean breathed in deeply. Exhaled. Another moment, another fragmented instant and Dean could feel seconds ticking, Cas not moving, him not moving, everything perfectly balanced. Then Dean tilted his head and pressed their lips together.

It was a quiet kiss, gentle, almost chaste. Basically just lips against lips for a moment before Dean pulled back and said, "I love you too," and kissed Cas again, more intensely this time.

Castiel leaned into the kiss, warmth exploding in his chest. He almost couldn't believe it was real, that he was finally here with Dean, but he was and it was better than he could have imagined. I love you, Dean said, and Castiel was filled with a wild joy. He deepened the kiss, raising his hands to cover Dean's and hold them tightly. A jolt of something like electricity shot through him, and he broke away with a gasp. "Dean, did you feel that?"

"Is something wrong?" Dean studied Cas and slipped his hand out of the angel's to run it along the Cas's face, resting his thumb on his bottom lip. He had a strange expression on his face and Dean's heart sank, because damn it all if Cas didn't think this felt right now, after everything that had been said between them, everything they'd experienced. Dean dropped his hand from Cas and leaned back.

"I- no. No Dean, nothing's wrong." Cas saw the flash of uncertainty in Dean's eyes and caught his hands as he pulled away.

"What happened, then?"

Castiel shook his head. "Probably nothing, Dean." He tried to stand up, fully intending to settle in Dean's lap, but the room slid sideways and he dropped back onto the bed quickly.

"Whoa, Cas!" Dean lurched forward out of his chair and grabbed the angel's elbow to steady him. Cas was shaking his head slightly as if to clear it and Dean watched him carefully. After a moment, he said slowly, "You should have something to eat. Why don't you lie down a minute while I get you something, okay?"

"All right, Dean." Castiel wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the energy. Instead, he carefully stretched out on the bed again, turning his head to nuzzle into the pillow. It smelled like Dean, which made him smile, but Castiel still felt like something was wrong. His heart seemed to be beating too fast, and a tingling was spreading from his lips that probably had to do with Dean's kisses.

"You like omelets, Cas?" Dean shouted from the other room, rummaging in the fridge to find the eggs.

"I think so," Castiel called back, "but Dean, I don't think I'm hungry. I must still be worn out from the flight, I apologize."

Dean shook his head to himself. It was amazing how Cas would sometimes get into these moods where he'd try as hard as possible to deny any change from his old angel ways when he had no need for food or sleep or anything of the kind, even though Dean knew things were different now. He was like a child who got cranky and said he wasn't hungry even though he absolutely, most certainly was. Besides, Dean didn't really know what to do to help him besides feed him at this point. Build up his strength again. "You need to eat something. Drink something too. And then you get to take a nap, understand?"

"Dean." Castiel would never admit that he was pouting. "I do not think that feeding me is particularly important right now. I did eat last night."

"And now it's day. Breakfast, Cas." He glanced at the clock. "Well. Almost lunch."

Grudgingly, Castiel lay back and allowed Dean to cook him breakfast. Lunch. He still didn't want food. He was beginning to feel even worse than he had upon waking, which made no sense. He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the sheets that smelled like Dean, trying to distract himself from the dizziness that threatened to overtake him. "Dean, I don't feel very well," he moaned.

Dean paused for a moment, considered the eggs still cooking in the frying pan, then turned the stove off and removed them from the heat. He walked back to the bedroom and entered it, walking over to the bed and hesitantly sitting down on it, putting his hand on Cas's back. "You really overdid it, didn't you. What's wrong, buddy?"

"Don't know," Cas muttered, rolling his shoulders under Dean's hand. "M'tired. Feel sick."

"Okay." Dean paused, rubbed Cas's back absently. "Let's do something else. You get to drink some water for me. And have some crackers with it. Then sleep. But let's get something into you first, okay?"

Cas didn't really respond, but Dean got up, filled a glass with water, and grabbed a box of crackers from the cabinet before coming back. "Here."

Castiel didn't really want anything to eat or drink, but Dean acting like a mother hen was so endearing that he managed to roll back onto his side and wait patiently for Dean to return with his water and crackers. He drank half of the glass and ate a few crackers, but couldn't make himself finish. "I just want to sleep, Dean," he grumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

"Don't sleep in your clothes, Cas, that can't be comfortable."

"Doesn't matter." Castiel was really beyond the point of proper words now, and he wasn't sure if Dean understood him. nonetheless, when Dean leaned down to take away the glass and crackers, he found the strength to wrap an arm around the hunter's shoulders and tug him down onto the bed next to him.

"Cas, hang on, just let me put this stuff away, okay?" He shrugged off Cas's grip with a tight feeling in his stomach. The eggs had burned from the leftover heat of the pan. He'd deal with them later. Now, he walked back and closed the bedroom door behind him. The blinds on the window were still drawn, so the room was dim even with the noonday sun high outside. Dean padded to the bed and tugged on Cas's sleeve. "Come on, lemme get this off you, Cas."

"Dean-" Cas reached after his hunter when Dean left without opening his eyes. He still felt like the room was swimming, and he wanted to hold onto something to keep it all from drifting off without him. He heard the man move around the room, and when Dean came back and tugged at Cas's arm, he grudgingly let his coat slide off his shoulders. Dean had to physically roll him across the bed to get the rest of it off, but Castiel didn't mind. Once the thick fabric was gone, though, he realized that he was cold in just his shirt and slacks, and he starting shaking almost immediately. "Dean?" he asked again, wishing the hunter would just hurry up and lie down.

"What, Cas?" Dean asked, pulling the blankets back and bodily moving Cas to get them out from under him. He crawled in next to the angel and pulled the blankets over both of them, snuggling up against Cas and gently kissing his neck. Angels weren't supposed to get like this. Cas shouldn't have flown. He should have known better.

"'M cold Dean. 'M sorry." Cas curled himself against Dean's solid, comforting warmth. His mind was hazy with fatigue and his body ached in places he hadn't realized humans had muscles. Despite it all, Castiel kept his mind focused on Dean's scent and Dean's reassuring kisses up his neck. Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Cas sleeping next to Dean was comforting and somewhat terrifying at the same time. Comforting because Dean could listen to his soft breathing, feel his heat, hug him close and let his mind whirl about the sheer unbelievability that he could be here in bed with someone he loved right next to him, with Cas right next to him, and he knew that he didn't deserve to be so happy. And then terror because Cas was sick and maybe Cas wouldn't want to be next to him in the morning and because he knew that if he fell asleep, which was likely given the poor sleep he'd gotten the night before, he might dream again.

Eventually, he did fall asleep, nose touching the back of Cas's neck, arm slung over his stomach, blankets and shared body heat pushing him just to the edge of being too warm. And while he slept, he dreamt.