Ok I just HAD to re-upload this cuz I was annoyed at the quality/flow of this chapter. So yeah, this is a re-upload! Although, not much changed...yeah.

Dean woke himself suddenly. He had heard a sort of yelp from someone. Once his eyes came to focus, he realized it was him. Oh yeah. He was dreaming about that squirrel.

He fucking hated squirrels. The dingy bastards.

Rolling over, he noticed his clock screamed out the numbers 4:35 rather then gently showed them on its face. He rubbed his eyes and looked to the other side of the bed and stared at the gun rack on the wall. His black cellphone was face down on the bedside table and had a speck of dust which he smoothed off. He wasn't really tired. In fact he had to pee. He could hold it. He brushed a light streak of hair off of his pillow before snuggling back into its warmth, on his side. He shuffled up the blanket from his shoulders over his head to be wrapped in it. Curling his knees towards his chest, he tucked an arm against his body, tucking his elbow at his bellybutton while leaving an arm ender the pillow. It was so warm. He sighed, content.

Yeah, no he really had to pee.

Groaning and getting up, he flung the blanket back and stepped over a the lump that was his shirt on the floor towards the door. It wasn't until he reached to turn off the light -'We have to save electricity Dean. Y'know. The Environment? Remember? "- that he realized the light was already off. He turned sleepily and actually looked at the room. He thought back to how he could see dirt on his phone and the hair on his pillow. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"Holy shit. I have night-vision."

A small fist pump followed an open-mouthed smile. Haha take that ghoulies. He turned out of his doorway into the hall with a small bounce in his step.

As he unzipped his fly, he thought of how much better he'd be on a hunt. Popping out of corners without the use of a flashlight. He could probably go in a house first, check if its booby trapped in the dark, then wave Sam in.

Oh wait, right. He's on probation. Which was fucking stupid because A) Its not like he can't hold a gun anymore and B)He could probably smell a vamp from miles away. Wait, could he smell a vamp from miles away? Whatever, he probably could. Sammy was just being stubborn. He was supposed to be the smart one, so why the hell would he just think it was too dangerous for Dean to go hunting? He was the oldest goddamnit, so he gets seniority on all decisions.

He zipped up and turned to wash his hands. Light still off because, hell, he wanted everything to do with this nightvision. Grimacing, he scrubbed his hands before putting one up to the scruff of his face -He really needed to shave- and almost punched the mirror. There was someone there. He quickly dropped down and reached under the sink for a gun. How the fuck did this guy get into the bunker?!He spun around to face-

An empty wall.

Whipping back to the mirror, it dawned on him. He was just looking at himself. He looked down at his hand wrapped around the small and cool steel and forced out a singly laugh. It was just his reflection. He reached underneath the sink to lock it back in place and braced his hands on the cool porcelain. Shit. Maybe Sam was right. How the hell was he supposed to hunt when he got the heebie-jeebies by his own damn reflection? He took a deep breath, feeling his throat close at the realization that he would actually be dead weight on a hunt. What if he could never hunt? What if Sammy left him? Because really. Why would he stay when the guy who's supposed to be his right hand man was useless?

A sound escaped into the room that he would probably be extremely embarrassed about later.

He needed to get out of the bathroom, it felt too small. The urge to go back to bed and wrap himself up again was strong, forgetting everything in the warmth. But that comfort seemed so unappealing, even in the cold night. It would just be him. Alone. With night-vision. Another whine pealed into the hall ad she scrambled through the door.

Castiel was interrupted from a long-needed sleep when he opened the door to find a very sad and very shirtless Dean. He was sitting there with a tight expression. The dim light from th bedside lamp cast a shadow across his face which made it seem more urgent. The ex-angel wiped sleep from his eyes as he stepped towards the bed and opened the door wider to let him in. Obviously, He had come to talk.

"Yes, Dean?". He tried hard to push thoughts of hugging his partially naked body out of his mind and think objectively. It would probably be about how they've been acting towards each other for the past few days A shuffling from behind told him that Dean had come in. He reached up to turn off the fan that he had turned on hours before. The room had now become chilly.

He turned back to the bed "Are y-"

Dean was lying on his bed with his chest facing down and his head turned away from Cas, occupying the farthest side of the bed.

Castiel needed a minute to compose himself.

He readied his voice to tell Dean that he needed to go to his own room when he heard him speak.

"I can't be alone."

Castiel swallowsed a lump in his throat that was probably because of his guilt. He could guess this was because Dean was left behind by his brother. Cas could sympathize. It had been a bad few days for him as well. He stood there for a second, glancing at the open spot on his bed, and back at Dean;s form, which somehow had managed to kick the covered form under him to the other side, and weighed his options. He glanced at the clock, and decided that he was too tired, and too sympathetic to kick him out. So, pushing down the thought lurking in the back of his mind, Cas turned off the bedside lamp, climbed up the other side of the bed at Dean's back and pulled up the covers over his big T-shirt, effectively covering both of them without disrupting Dean's position.

He laid there in the dark with his hands folded over his chest, staring at the ceilign as if he could see the question searign into the white paint. What now? Does he go to sleep and pretend like he isn't struggling with the fact that a very shirtless dean was currently sharing a bed with him? He listened to the breathing of the man next to him, and it sounded slightly erratic. He felt the urge to reach out and comfort him. Suddenly, Sam's words echoed in his head.

His cautious hand trembled a bit as he rested it in Dean's hair. Immediately, the man tensed and Castiel found himself breaking into a slight sweat. Cas slowly moved it back and forth, wondering if it was wrong to do this. If it was an intrusion. But for all of his worry and tremble, he mechanically kept patting his head. And finally, Dean moved. Castiel prepared himself for the dejection and loss of contact, but was almost thrown back by the full-fledged warmth that was Dean plastered to his side.

Dean curled into him, actually snuggling to his chest and Castiel was very unsure of what to do. He was tempted to push the man away, in a moment of panic, but knew that would probably make the situation worse. He was terrified to speak, to move even, but he brought his hand up to his hair again and resumed the movement, practically smelling the scrunched face Dean was making in the dark, complete with tightly closed eyes. His breathing slowed.

After an eternity, only when his nerves were to tired to continuously jump, did he whisper at the ceiling,

"Good Boy."

He thought he imagined a small smile nudging through his tshirt from his friend's face, along with a content sigh.

Yes I know I know its a little bit out of order in terms of chapter placement and time-wise but Im too lazy to reorder. But I got a plan.

As always, Reviews are welcome!