As obvious, I do not own Supernatural.
Cosmogony: A theory or story of the origin and development of the universe
Before meeting Cas and learning the ugly about the universe, Dean supposed he would have scoffed at the idea of angels. Actually, it was known fact that he hadn't believed in the Winged bastards. It was a perfectly logical for the fact that he had fought his ass off for the better part of his life, trying to keep the big, bad wolf (and all his jack-ass freak relatives) from harming as many innocent villagers as possible. And where was God when mom died? When John decided to uproot them "temporarily"?
"God can go screw himself," Dean thought angrily.
"Dean," Castiel said from behind him. He had not heard the nerd-Angel ghost up behind. When he turned around he saw the Angel with his usual 5 o'clock shadow, dirty trench coat, and tie. They were only a hairsbreadth away, and Dean unconsciously backed up.
"Dammit Cas!" the hunter exclaimed, "What have we talked about!?"
The Angel cocked his head in confusion; Dean couldn't help but notice the way it made him seem like an overgrown puppy.
"We have talked of many things, Dean," the Angel of the Lord said seriously; his voice getting that "You-should-be-more-specific" tone.
Dean ran his hand through his short hair and groaned. "I mean that you agreed not to poof up unannounced, read my thoughts, and give me some personal space," he said.
Castiel blinked, "Oh, those conversations," he said, his voice a rumble. "I am sorry; I did not believe it aggravated you."
Dean shook his head and went over to the small fridge located in the kitchenette. At least the current dump of a motel they were staying at had one. Grabbing a cold one out of it, he walked back towards Cas.
"Cas, what did you even come here for?" Dean asked.
"You were in distress," the angel said, like it was an obvious fact.
"Cas, I wasn't in distress! I was just thinking."
"I don't believe I like your "thinking". It is much too blasphemous and self-depreciating."
"Much too human, you mean," Dean spat.
"To be human is to love, Dean," the angel said, looking towards the ceiling. "It is to feel. Love, Sadness, Hurt, Faith, Fear, Lust, Anger, and Content are all emotions that you experience. Not all experiences are pleasant; the world isn't about living with rose coloured glasses on. It is impossible to go through life feeling like there isn't anything wrong. There is murderers, muggers, pedophiles, rapists, vampires, werewolves and innumerable other kinds of "baddies". Even the regular man whom doesn't know about the supernatural knows about some sector of the evil. Most delude themselves into thinking there IS no way that could happen to them. Forgive me; I lost the point of my rant. Either way, God can't help everyone, or really-," the angel gave a sad smile,"-anyone. Your kind was created, the final masterpiece of God, but after that you were on your own. We were only to step in when it came to desperate measures."
"Like to derail the apocalypse only to then attempt to restart it?" Dean said accusingly.
"Do not blame me for the mistakes of my brothers," Castiel warned, giving the hunter a 'Seriously don't even try to screw with me' glare.
"Alright, alright," the hunter said, backing down. He downed the last of his beer and went for another, which he downed in moments. "Would you like one, Cas?"
The angel shook his head and shot a look of disdain, "You know very well that I do not...partake in the consumption of alcohol."
"You don't partake in the consumption of anything, Cas. Not women, food, alcohol; man you're missing what it's all about. All that crap you were just spewing about love and emotions, it sucks. I don't think you're missing much; being human kills."
"You are so wrong, Dean. Do you even know-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah; Being human is amazing; big gift; cherish it; and all that crap. You don't need to preach the same sermon twice Cassy boy."
Cas looked affronted by the Hunter's lack of respect, and then realized that Dean had started taking large swigs of Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. "Dean!" the angel admonished.
"What?" the Hunter said angrily as he sat down on his bed. "I'm not getting that drunk. It just-"
"It just what, Dean?" the angel asked.
"Nothing," Dean lied.
"Tell me," the Angel commanded as he loomed over Dean. Although he was several inches shorter than Dean when standing, the way the angel held himself made him seem imposing and deadly serious. Hell, Casalways was imposing and deadly serious.
Dean remained silent for a few moments. "It keeps the nightmares away," he whispered,
obviously ashamed to be admitting weakness.
Castiel struggled to keep his expression neutral. "It is understandable," he said woodenly, "you have been through hell in a very literal sense."
"Yeah," the hunter mumbled before standing up, crossing the room to wear his duffel bag lay, and grabbing a pair of clothes within. "Cas, do you mind, you know, turning around or something so that I can change?" Normally Dean wouldn't have cared, but the Angel's serious gaze was unnerving him.
The Angel nodded, "I must leave soon anyways, now that I know you are alright."
"Well, thanks for coming, I suppose," Dean said. With one final nod and a flutter of wings, Cas was gone.
Sighing, Dean readied himself for bed, mentally preparing himself for a relentless night of torture.
Minutes after Dean had settled into a sleep pattern ensuring he would not wake, Castiel returned unseen to the human's eye. He stood at Dean's bedside all night, as still as a sentry, with his hand pressed up to his handprint seared into Dean's skin; forever guarding the Hunter's dreams from the things that caused him harm.
In the morning, Dean woke to a slight hangover, but was feeling surprisingly well rested. It didn't even occur to him until late afternoon that he had been nightmare-free for the first time in months. It only even came to the Hunter's attention when Sam asked in passing if Dean had had a good sleep, while Sam had been doing hours of research.
"Bitch," Was Dean's immediate reply.
"Jerk," Sam completed. It was the first time those words had been exchanged in months. The custom exchange between the two had stilled over the last hard years, and neither had been able to honestly pick up the banter. There was too much sorrow, too much pain, and far too much work in their recent past. But, perhaps there was still hope for the Winchester boys.
Okay, so Dean's a bit of a jerk in this one, but he's just grumpy. He's a grumpy, grumpy boy.
