Sleep was hell. First, he turned and tossed in his bed, waiting for sleep to finally hit - but it didn't come. His eyes were heavy, his thoughts slow and inconclusive, his whole body felt like a sand sack with no ounce of energy in all of his long limbs. He felt tired to the point that it seemed impossible that he was still awake. But sleep still eluded him and he was angry. Angry, that he couldn't sleep. Angry, that Dean was angry at him. Angry about himself for all his screw ups. Angry about his body without power. His mind was trapped in this deflated body, to tired to form even a single coherent thought. He never felt so small, so vulnerable. Maybe, this was his ultimate penance. He lost everything. And he felt like he was losing Dean too. He'd obviously done to much. To all the world, Dean acted like he still liked him. But inside, he was dead and cold. He turned another time, trying desperately to fetch sleep. But it wouldn't come. Finally, after all this time, he understood the very human term of crying to sleep. Maybe he should try that.
After what felt like hours of restlessness, he woke with a start, shaken and sweaty from a nightmare. He didn't even remember what he dreamed about, only that it was terrifying. But did he really sleep? His body sure didn't feel like it. If anything, it was even heavier than before. Did he fall into a coma for a while? Was it even possible to dream in a coma? His pillow was damp. Did he sweat? Or did he cry? It didn't matter. His brain was still foggy, tired, strained. He needed sleep. He hated sleep.
It wouldn't come.
Sleep was weird. John had the weirdest dream. There was Mary - and she was talking to him about Castiel. How did she even knew the guy? They were strolling through their neighborhood in Lawrence, him aged with the years, she still young and gorgeous. But that wasn't weird at all. But what she said... it just made no sense. Why would she say such things?
"Naomi is after him," Mary said with urgency in her tone, "His very essence was one of the ingredients for the spell. She is working on a way to undo it, and she needs Cas for it."
"Mary," John said, and he stared deeply into her eyes. Tenderly, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them a little.
"After all this years," he said, his lips starting to wobble a little, "I tried to find you, I really did."
Mary's gaze softened and she caressed his cheek with one hand. "I know, John," she said softly. "I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry about?" John asked, but Mary didn't answer. She looked sad now, averting her gaze for a moment before she looked back up at him.
"John, please try to remember what I said. You need to protect Cas."
"Why should I care about Cas?", John exclaimed, "Mary, I need you!"
"Do it for Dean," she said, even more sadness in her eyes. Then she was fading. The dream was fading. He sat up, and realized this weird talk was just a dream. But it felt so real - so incredibly real. Yet, thinking about it, it was clear that it had been a ton of bullshit, thought up by his own unconsciousness.
Sleep was sweet. Dean woke up slowly, marvelling in the wonders that were memory foam. He turned on his back, and for a moment he kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed the perfect feeling of a well rested night in a perfect bed, in a place where he could finally feel save. A place he could call home. A place where he dared not to sleep fully clothed. His lips tugged up in a satisfied smile.
Nights like this didn't happen often, but they happened more and more often now that they had a place to stay. Sadly, the peace didn't last long, and his body reminded him of the reason he woke up. He really needed to pee. With a grunt, he opened his eyes and sat up, only to come face to face with a dark mob of hair.
"Cas?" he exclaimed, bathroom needs momentarily forgotten.
"Good morning, Dean," Cas said, his voice sounding even deeper and heavier than usual.
"Cas, that's creepy! You gotta stop doing that!" Dean complained.
"My apologies," Cas said, sounding like Dean had slapped him in the face. Dean blinked, and looked at his friend properly. Cas looked awful. His hair was a mess - well, that wasn't unusual - but it was the rest. Cas eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his face was pale, and the lines in his face seemed to be deeper than usual. He looked like he didn't have a single minute of sleep, or like he cried the whole night. Or maybe both.
Cas stood up to leave, his shoulders sagging.
"Cas, wait!" Dean exclaimed, concerned, "What's up?"
Cas turned back, not quite looking Dean in the eye. He didn't say anything. Dean stood up and stepped close to Cas, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Cas, man, talk to me," Dean said, searching Cas's eyes.
Cas eyes flickered up to his briefly, but turned down again, like he was ashamed.
"I can't sleep," he admitted.
"Like, at all?" Dean asked, sceptically.
Cas didn't reply, his eyes trailing on the floor like it could offer him some kind of answer. Dean watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of the other man.
"Forget it, Dean, it's nothing," Cas finally said, turning to leave, "I shouldn't have bothered you."
Cas took the bottle of whiskey from the nightstand that Dean had long forgotten being there. And with that, all of Dean's alarm bells went of ringing loudly. Cas in front of him was suddenly wearing a light blue tunic, stubble that was more than a few days worth, and a mad, drugged up giggle. And yeah, guess what? Where did Cas learn this sort of behaviour?
"Cas, wait a moment!" Dean said urgently, gabbing Cas hard by the shoulder and yanking away the bottle. And damn his bladder, it reminded him that moment that he really, really needed to pee.
Dean dragged Cas back to the bed and pushed him down onto it. "Just wait here for a second, okay?"
Cas finally looked up at him, and that moment it seemed like he was holding onto Dean like a lifeline. Dean really hated his bladder at that moment.
"Just wait here!" Dean repeated, "I just... uh... need to pee."
Wow, Dean, way to make the guy think you're caring. To hell with his bladder. But Cas settled on the bed like he was willing to wait decades on Dean's return.
Dean practically raced down the hallway to the toilets, and had an idea. He didn't bother loosing any precious time so he just dialed while stepping in front of the toilet.
"Hey Charlie!"
"Hey Dean! Wassup?" Charlie asked excitedly. Dean didn't get how she was always so happy to talk to him. He knew he wasn't that great of a person.
"Charlie, I need your help. You know of anything to help a dude sleep?"
"Oh no, don't tell me you're having nightmares again!" Charlie fussed.
"No, it's not me," Dean said defensively, "I deal with my shit."
"Dean, drinking a whole bottle of whisky before going to bed is not dealing with shit!" Charlie protested.
"How... why do you think that?" Dean replied flustered.
"I've read the book, dumbass. Hey, what's that sound?"
Dean didn't say anything. Charlie didn't say anything for a moment.
"Dean, that sound... don't tell me you're actually..." Charlie continued, scandalized.
"What? I'm just getting some water," Dean blatantly lied. Good thing he was finished.
"Must be a big glass of water..." Charlie replied, not sounding convinced. At all. Real smooth, Dean. Congrats.
"Hey Charlie it's important! How can I get him to sleep without a bottle of whiskey?"
"Sleeping pills?" Charlie suggested.
"No drugs!" Dean protested loudly.
"Wow Dean, easy!" Charlie replied, and sighed, "talking about shit usually helps. And... make sure he feels safe when going to sleep."
"That won't work," Dean sighed.
Nothing can come through dreams. Not now anyway, since all angels are gone.
"There are herbal teas that help. Ask in a pharmacy."
Dean heard a tapping sound of nails on a table as Charlie was thinking for a moment. "Damnit, Jim, I'm a geek, not a doctor!"
Dean did actually get that last reference, and couldn't help grinning about his friend.
"Thanks, Charlie. I've gotta take care of stuff now."
"Anytime, Dean!" She said cheerily, "Make sure Sam gets better soon!"
Dean didn't bother to correct her. "I will. And Charlie?"
"Hm?"
"We've gotta do a Star Trek marathon with Cas sometime. Dude needs to catch up on stuff."
"I'm in so hard." Charlie said, and Dean could hear her grin.
"Take care, Dean!"
"You too, Charlie... bye."
Dean returned back to his room, where Cas was still sitting on the bed. Cas already looked better simply for the fact he could stay here, in Dean's room. Not alone in his own empty, impersonal room.
"You want some coffee?" Dean asked cheerfully. Cas looked up at him with a small smile. He still looked like a truck had rolled him over, but a smile at least.
"I would enjoy that."
Cas stood up a little to fast, and it went black before his eyes for a moment. Dean saw him sway and cursed under his breath.
"Okay, sit down and wait for a moment. I'm gonna fetch the coffee," Dean said.
Cas wanted to protest, but Dean shushed him before he got any words out. Defeated, Cas plopped back down on the bed.
Dean was back fast, holding two steaming cups of strong coffee. The smell alone was strong enough to wake up a mummy. Dean sat down next to Cas, disregarding personal space exactly like Cas always did.
Dean hadn't known it was so easy to make Cas happy until he saw him take a sip of black, strong, Winchester style coffee.
Cas smiled his tiny, private smile at him that meant so much more than the biggest grin of any other person. "Thank you, Dean," he said.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Cas eyes slowly began to drop. He didn't take another sip. He finally fell asleep, leaning on Dean.
Carefully, Dean opened Cas' lean fingers and removed the cup from them. He simply sat there for a while longer, listening to Cas' calm breathing and simply enjoying the warmth and friendship of the moment. He had to take care of Cas, like he had always done for Sammy. Cas needed him right now. So yeah, he'd been a little hard on the dude yesterday. But damn it, Cas was family.
A/N
Heya guys! Thanks a lot for the many super-awesome reviews I got last chapter! I love you guys! Wip title of this chapter: What a good night's sleep will do to you. Or the absense of it. Okay, that's too long to be a title. More of a mood theme for the chapter ;) I kinda tried something in this chapter, and I know it's probably dull but I liked the symmetry. Anyway, Thanks for your support and don't forget to be awesome! *HintHintReview*
And since this one review there's this particular picture that just won't leave my mind... If there is anybody at least remotely artistically talented in my readership, can you please draw Crowley as a Cat in shackles as he is in the dungeon? It would fulfill me in ways even I can't imagine. Please. It would be like the most awesome thing ever. Anyway, thanks again!