All mistakes are my own (but I wouldn't mind if you pointed them out)
Disclaimer: I still do not own Supernatural. Stupid crossroads demon didn't keep up her end of the deal. Hopefully this means I still have my soul. Lucifer's sexy, but Hell is hot and I don't like the heat.
The morning after Dean stays up all night, thinking about this, Dean has whisky for breakfast. He's trying his hardest to shove it back down but it isn't working very well. In fact, lately it's been getting harder and harder to repress these things, to ignore them; and while Dean logically knows that this is probably for the best (at least as far as his mental health is concerned) he really, really doesn't like it. And it's even worse that the things he can't repress anymore are the things he least wants to think about. First and foremost, CAS. Dean long ago came to terms with the fact that he loves Cas, but it's what kind of love it is that keeps sneaking up from the back of his mind and getting right to the front at the worst times. During a fight is bad enough but it's even worse when he's in the shower and the absolute worst is in his dreams. He can't control his dreams. And he supposes that his dreams about having a future with Cas, having a house and a cat and maybe even kids are better than his nightmares of Hell that wake him up screaming.
It would actually be better if his dreams about Cas were sex dreams, as strange as that sounds. To Dean, sex has absolutely nothing to do with love. It's like punching a guy in the face; it's a release, nothing more. But dreaming of a living with Cas, being with Cas, standing behind Cas, making an apple pie together with what looks suspiciously like a wedding ring on both Cas' and his hand, that's love and Dean knows it. All that Dean has ever really wanted was a family. People and a place to call his own. Having a home for his baby instead of his baby being his home. And this terrifies Dean to no end, because there's just a tiny bit of him that thinks that it just might be true, that maybe, just maybe, it could happen.
And that's why when Sam wakes up at 8, Dean is already drunk off his ass. "Again," he asks his brother "really?" To which Dean replies with a drunken mumbling slur that sounds like it may contain the word "Bitch." Sam gets out of bed and shakes his head, both at his brother and to rid himself of the last remains of sleep before opening his laptop and looking for a new hunt, not knowing why he's doing it. Dean would be less than useless on a hunt and if Sam left him, he'd more than likely die of alcohol poisoning.
A little while later Sam hears Dean talking again, it goes on for a while and he only catches the last word, 'Cas.' Cas appears with the fluttering sound of his wings. He only manages to get out, "I'm her D-"before Dean cuts him off by passing out and crumpling to the floor. Sam shakes his head again and says "Hey Cas" as he walks past the angel to try to pick up his brother. And even though he's ridiculously large (as Dean would say) and extremely strong, he can't manage to drag his dead-weight brother onto the bed. He grunts out, straining "Cas, a little help here." And without a word Cas lifts Dean up as if he's no heavier than a bottle of soda, holding him like you would hold a baby and lays Dean down on the bed. Sam tells him that Dean has to lay on his side so he doesn't drown in his own vomit. Cas looks at him strangely but doesn't question, just turns Dean over to his side and then stands there, looking lost. After a few minutes of a very awkward silence Sam asks "So, he was praying to you?" Cas does his confused look and says "Or course." as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, I thought he was just talking about you." Cas cocks his head even more to the side and asks cautiously "Dean…talks about me?" Sam responds absent mindedly "Yeah, but mostly just in his sleep" then his eyes widen because he was definitely not supposed to say that. He hasn't even brought it up with Dean, knowing that Dean would lie and then they'd fight and frankly, Sams tired of fighting with his brother, especially since he knows that Dean will end up storming out of the motel, going to the closest bar and drinking until last call, to drunk to drive so he sleeps in the Impala. And an awkward sleeping position added to a hangover makes for a super-pissed-off Dean.
Well, fuck it, it's out there now and he might as well talk to Cas about it, maybe together they can try and figure out what the hell's going on with Dean. "His sleep…" Cas says thoughtfully. "His dreams..." and even though he's not supposed to, and he knows that Dean doesn't approve, he can't help himself. He touches two fingers to Dean's forehead and slips into his dream.
Please R&R if only to let me know that someone has read this. You will be rewarded with a life-sized stuffed animal of your favorite character. Or just one of Misha Collins. Misha Collins is awesome.