One of the problems about sleep is that once you get some, your body just wants more and more of it. Sam and Dean who routinely live on less than 4 hours sleep a night, are absolutely capable of staying awake, researching for hours on end, spending long nights in the car on stake outs. Cas, however, in a body that, before a few years ago, was used to a healthy dose of 8 hours a night, and had been comatose for the best part of a week, was wilting.
"Come on, Cas!" Dean cried, nudging him again for the umpteenth time. "It's Save The Whales! It's a classic!"
Cas jolted awake again, blinking blearily as he tried to focus on the screen. From what he could understand, a group of people from the future had been transported back in time, and now they had to, as the film title suggested, save some endangered whales from an aquarium. It made little sense to him, and when he'd tried to point out the temporal flaws in the science of the film, Dean had cuffed him round the ear.
"I'm watching, Dean." He said, sitting up straighter, having slouched back slightly in fatigue.
"Dean," Sam sighed from across the room, still sitting at his laptop, but enjoying the film nonetheless. "Let him go to bed. Look at him, he's exhausted!"
"From what? Sleeping for days?" He scoffed, before pointing at the screen. "I'm educating the guy!" He looked back at Cas, a grin on his face as he looked to his friend. But, even Dean admitted, he looked beat. Eyes puffy and slightly bloodshot, squinting slightly as he tried to focus. Dean sighed, reaching for the remote and hitting the pause button. "Ah, fine, go to bed."
Cas looked round, slight surprise on his face. "That's not necessary. I'm capable of staying awake long enough to watch the film." He tried to smile, but found himself blindsided by a yawn, stretching his face.
His first yawn as a human, Dean noted.
"Nah," He sighed, clapping a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, who jolted under the pressure, surprised. Dean gave a little squeeze before letting go, smiling and looking to his knees. "Go get some shut eye. No point in falling asleep half way through this."
He nodded, lifting his hand to wipe across his eyes, sore and dry. A mild headache played across his brain, the light from the TV too bright in the room, too bright for his eyes, but he didn't complain. Forcing his eyes open, he heaved himself from the sofa, finding the tiredness in his limbs uncomfortable. He wondered if he would feel like this every night.
"I believe it's customary to say good night?" He asked half heartedly, already looking forward to the bed.
Dean chuckled, leaning back and looking up at Cas, amused at the sight of the sleepy, slightly swaying man standing in front of him. Wearing some old clothes of Dean's, a tatty ACDC shirt and a too-long pair of brown sweatpants. He looked ridiculous, the sight of his forearms on show was unsettling. The outfit swamped him; he looked pale and withered in it.
It suddenly didn't seem quite so funny to Dean any more.
"You want a bedtime story too?" He cranked the smile back on his face, happiness not faded, the fact that Cas was there, with him, good enough. "Night, Cas." He kicked a foot out, tapping Cas gently on the back of the knee. He stumbled slightly, surprised by the jolt. "You're making me miss the film."
Cas nodded, stepping aside and turning to Sam. "Goodnight." He sighed, stifling a yawn, and Sam smiled back in return. They both listened as Cas climbed the steps, the plodding footsteps echoing in the creaking cabin.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Dean remained studiously focused on the screen, absentmindedly plucking at the material of his shirt. Sam watched the film too, smirking at his brother. It had been a long time since he'd seen Dean smile so much, so easily. Cas being back, being awake, had elated his brother immensely. For months, Dean had been a permanent raincloud, frown lines etched deep into his face, the smiles fake and rusty. Now, with his friend back, alive and human, he couldn't help the smiles. It was beautiful to behold, and Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed the evening so much, simply by seeing his brother so happy.
"What?" Dean grunted from across the room, flicking a glance over.
"What?" Sam repeated innocently.
"You're staring. I got popcorn on my face, or something?" His tone was wary, daring Sam to say something. Dangling the bait to bite.
"It's just..." Sam sighed, closing the laptop. "You call me the geek." He chuckled, leaning back. Dean turned now, raising his eyebrows at his brother.
"What're you trying to say about Kirk?" He folded his arms, mimicking Sam.
"Of all the films to pick... Star Trek."
"Hey!" Dean cried. "It's a classic. And have you seen Rufus's collection? There ain't much to choose from, unless you want me to show Mister Purity-Ring up there some NC17 stuff."
"Rufus's collection no good, then?" Sam asked, and Dean chuckled, looking back to the screen.
"Depends what you mean by 'good', Sammy."
The film was over. Dean was plucking at the fabric of the settee, glaring at the credits as they rolled, though clearly not taking any of it in. Sam didn't think he'd been watching for a while, now; the frown had been etched on his face for at least twenty minutes.
Sam glanced up again.
"Dean?" Sam called over, and his brother looked up, peering over the back of the furniture. "What's up?"
Dean hummed slightly, a huff as he mulled over what was going through his brain. "How human do you reckon Cas is gonna be?"
"Uh..." Sam leant back, pushing his laptop to the side. "His body is, I guess."
"Yeah, that's what I figured." Dean sighed. "This don't exactly come with a how-to guide."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "We know stuff about souls," he pointed out, and Dean cracked a wry smirk. "But Cas doesn't have one. He has grace. I don't know what's happened to that, though."
Dean nodded, absentmindedly scratching the stubble along his jaw. "Do you think he can be possessed?"
Sam hesitated, but then groaned slightly, seeing what Dean was thinking. "You think he needs to get inked up?"
Dean shook his head, though not in disagreement, more in resignation. "I don't wanna take any chances. " He muttered, looking back up to Sam. "We'll take him out tomorrow. Tat, clothes; get him sorted."
"Yeah, 'course." Sam agreed. Better to do it now, as soon as possible, rather than later, mid case, putting them all in danger.
Dean stood, flicking off the screen and dropping the remote on the couch. "Didn't we have an anti-possession charm in the car? Been floating around for ages."
"Yeah, I think so." Sam frowned. "Cas should be safe here, though. Rufus really proofed the place, and Bobby."
"Humour me, Sammy." He sighed, heading for the door.
The younger Winchester watched as his brother left the room, wrapping his jacket around himself in the cold chill of the air. Sam didn't see much possibility of Cas getting possessed in the car journey from the cabin to the nearest town, but he knew what his brother was considering. Dean was powerfully protective over his family, showing care to them that he showed little of to himself. If it made Dean feel better, Cas could wear the charm until he had something more permanent.
It took ten minutes to find the charm, rattling around the loose guns, knives and assorted useful items that really needed to be reorganised in the trunk. They hadn't taken the time to take the usual care in the matter, and he winced as he felt something damp in the rough fabric lining the trunk. Nice. He'd probably just change cars, rather than bother cleaning up that, probably pungent, mess.
Locating the small silver charm, dulled by the years since Bobby had given it to them after Sam had been possessed. Shaking off the memory, he slammed the trunk, twisting the chain along his fingers, swinging the weighted end as he walked back up the steps and into the cabin. Waving it to Sam as he walked past, he closed the door behind him, and trudged up the stairs leading to the bedroom.
Cas hadn't bothered to close the door to the room. As Dean climbed the last steps, he saw the bed appear with each movement up, followed by the bump of feet, and then, as he reached the top, he could see the man himself, sleeping in full view.
Dean froze, hand on the banister. Cas was still, very still, lying flat on his back, as if he had learnt to sleep from a textbook. Dean felt the chain slide from his hand slightly as his chest tightened, throat closing up slightly. He felt panic slowly work its way up as he stared.
It was irrational, he knew that. Cas was alive, Cas was here. He wasn't half way through the veil anymore, it wasn't touch and go whether he'd wake up. He'd spent the evening watching Star Trek with them, for crying out loud.
Dean knew this, but that didn't change the fact that his body was frozen as he looked into the room, the deathly still body on the bed chilling him to his core.
"You get that now that he's not in a coma, watching him sleep is just plain creepy, right?" Sam called up from the bottom of the stairs.
Dean flinched, glancing down at his brother. "Shut it, goldilocks." He grumbled, watching as his brother chuckled and turned the corner.
Sighing, he climbed the final step, treading into the room. He winced, the first foot falling a little heavy on the floorboards, a thump echoing round the room. Cas didn't stir.
Dean didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.
He trod quieter, his heavy shoes still sounding in the room, but as they rang as quietly as he could muster. He crossed the room quickly, reaching the bedside and dropping the charm on it. No way was he putting it on the guy himself. He could manage to not get jumped until morning.
Sighing again, he let himself look up once more at the man in the bed. Now closer up, he could see him in full detail, the slow in and out of his chest as he breathed, the slight hushed whisper of air. From here he could see that Cas wasn't lying completely flat, but that his head was tilted slightly to the right.
Shaking his head slightly, he reached down, the movement familiar, knowing the precise spot even as he looked away, looked up at the ceiling. The strong, steady pump of Cas's heartbeat was there, strong under his fingertips.
Snatching his hand back he pulled away, curling his fingers into a fist, trying to push away the echo of the warmth that he had felt, the lingering memory of the pulse. Grabbing his duffle bag, still lying at the foot of the bed, he threw it over his shoulder, heading for the door.
"Dean?" He heard a mumble, and paused, frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the sleepy man sit up a little, bleary eyed, and completely adorable, still sleeping in the clothes he had been loaned.
Dean shook the thought from his head.
"Anti-possession charm, left it for you on the nightstand." He told him, cracking a smile at the perplexed look on the man's face. "We'll get you something more permanent soon."
"Okay." Was the simple reply, and Cas reached for it, hands lazy with sleep but managing to grasp it.
"Go back to sleep, Cas." Dean told him, turning away and traipsing back down the stairs.
