They pulled back into the garage of the bunker after the five-hour drive home. The group got out of the car and stretched.

Charlie yawned. "I am totally gonna nap for like three years. You Winchesters are terrible for my REM cycle." She laughed and grabbed her backpack out of the car, swinging it around the un-slung shoulder.

Sam carried his and Dean's bags, and Castiel guided Dean inside by a light touch on his back. Warmth emanated from his touch, and for a second, Dean forgot about his ordeal.

They trudged down the stairs of the bunker, and separated to their rooms to drop their stuff down. Charlie muttered something to Sam in passing, before scooting off to a hallway off of the kitchen. Dean felt like he was being babied, which he hated, but at the same time he didn't want to protest because of how shitty he felt.

Sam carried Dean's bag into his room, and checked to make sure he didn't trip on his way to his bed. Dean slumped into his bed, and stripped off his boots and his jacket, leaving his maroon t-shirt and worn-in jeans on. His arms were still coated in blood.

"Okay, so you have your phone to text me if you need me to get you anything." Sam started, "Charlie's gonna be right back with some washcloths and clean clothes, so uh…don't fall asleep yet."

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam patted the doorway with his hand. "It's good to have you back, Dean." He turned on his heels and nearly bumped into Charlie on his way out.

"Hey, slugger." Charlie was carrying three towels with a set of sweatpants, boxers, and a baggy t-shirt slung over her shoulder. Cas followed closely behind with a small bucket of warm water, which he placed next to the bed, and hurried back out again. Charlie watched the non-interaction between the two of them and plopped herself at Dean's feet.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Dean furrowed his brow at her. A week ago she could barely look at him.

She shrugged, making a "stop" motion with her uninjured hand. "Okay, I'll let you tell me."

She dipped the top towel, a small navy blue washcloth, into the warm water. She moved closer to him and took his right arm in her slung hand. She studied his face as she touched the wet towel to his arm with her right arm.

Charlie meticulously wipes the dried blood off of Dean's arms. She dips the towel again, and tries to breach Dean's silence.

"Okay, so you were held up by another djinn. So what? We've all been there, amiright?" She cleans halfway down Dean's forearm, carefully making her way down to his wrist.

"Charlie, djinn aren't exactly a dime a dozen, and they get the jump on me. Nothing should get the jump on me. I'm not some rookie hunter."

Charlie glanced up, slightly tiffed by the comment, but glad he was talking again. "Watch it."

"Sorry."

She continued, gently wiping his wrist to reveal deep indents and purple bruises. "You can make it up to me by telling me what happened during your wrinkle in time."

"I can't, Charlie."

She threw the washcloth in the bucket. "Why not? You need to get it out of your system, Dean. I promise it'll help." She posed her hand underneath her chin, trying to coax a smile out of him.

"No, Charlie!"

"I swear Dean, I'll burn your ancient porn." She pointed where he had stashed old copies of Busty Asian Beauties.

He waved her off, "Alright Fahrenheit, calm down."

She continued wiping his right wrist, cleaning it of blood, and moved to wipe his other arm.

"So basically my first djinn fantasy was that my mom-"

"Never died. Right, Sam was engaged to good ol'Jessica, yadda yadda, I know Dean, I read your books. So were you still with that girl?"

Dean smirked at her, and thought back to what felt like an eternity ago, "Right, the beer model. Nah, she wasn't in the picture. And Sam and I were closer than we were the first time around. I was younger, too. I had all different memories. Fishing, mom's apple pie, being a mechanic for a living. You were friends with Jo, and you liked to chase after her when she was drunk."

"Jo was a babe in the books, Dean. I would've been all over that."

"Slow down, Cassanova, you were friends."

She rolled her eyes. "So, do you remember where the fantasy started? Could you tell?"

"Actually, I guess it started with Lisa breaking up with me the day before Sam's wedding."

"That's kinda harsh. This is your fantasy, Dean?"

"It gets…weirder…"

She dipped the towel in the now-red-water bucket. "I don't know how that's possible unless you said your best man speech naked."

"Close. I collapsed then. That's when Sam and Cas brought me back." Castiel's name felt different in his mouth. He paused.

Charlie did, too. "It's about the angel, isn't it?"

He stared blankly at her.

"Isn't it? You and his holy dreamboat hooked up? In your fantasy?"

He opened his mouth to correct her, but nothing came out.

"I knew it." She finished wiping his other wrist, and stood to grab Dean's clean clothes.

"What the fuck, How?"

She tossed his clothes to him and turned around for him to change.

"You've been weird with him ever since you've been conscious."

Dean threw his shirt against the wall and scoffed, "How does that prove we kissed?"

"HA! SO YOU DID!" Charlie spun around dramatically, to a shirtless Dean. "Oh right, sorry, continue stripping." She spun back.

Dean dropped his pants and boxers, and quickly replaced them with the fresh lavender-scented clothes. He smiled reluctantly and sat back down on the bed with a creak. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Charlie turned around again and put the wet washcloth in the bucket and grabbed it with her free arm. She turned a knob to illuminate Dean's table lamp. "Fine. We can talk more later if you feel like it, but I'm leaving tomorrow night for Tuscany." She kissed his forehead, "I love you."

Dean smiled up at her and replied, "I know."

She backed out of the room, flicking off his light, just leaving on his dim bedside lamp.

Dean was drowsy, but still wasn't able to sleep. Though he talked through some of his mixed up memories with Charlie, he was having trouble accepting real life again. He was older, with the Mark angry on his forearm. His headache soldiered on, even after he took plenty of pain meds. The ringing in his ears kept him from falling asleep.

He kept replaying his dance with Cas over and over again, like it was his favorite movie on rewind.

"Dean."

Dean sat up, and saw Cas leaning against his door frame.

"I can fix your headache, if you wish."

Dean nodded in the dark, and Cas moved silently to his bedside. He touched his fingers to Dean's temple and the ringing in his ears stopped. Dean exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, Dean." Cas replied gruffly, and started walking towards the door.

"Cas, wait."

Cas didn't turn around, but moved his head to a profiled view.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. "Stay." He didn't mean for it to happen, but his voice broke as the words stumbled out, "Please, stay here tonight."

Without another word, Cas walked around to the left side of Dean's bed, removed his shoes and coat, and sat down in it.

Dean's eyes finally drooped. "Thanks Cas…" He whispered, drifting off to sleep.

His guardian angel watched over him over the course of the night. As Dean slept, Castiel smoothed and stroked his unconscious charge's hair, and hummed the only Foreigner song he knew.