Chapter 2

When Dean woke up, it was oddly enough still night, and the room was dark, only slightly dipped in pale moon light. He shot up to a sitting position, breathing heavily.

Another nightmare. They became more and more frequent during the past weeks. He had never told Sam about them, the guy had enough problems with his own mental health.

The nightmares were always the same. He saw Cas, slowly walking into the lake, followed by Bobby on the bed in the hospital, closing his eyes forever, and this was usually followed by Sam getting killed or dying in some kind of way. The newest picture was the one that had shaped itself deep into Dean's mind – Sam, in a white room, clad in white, on a white bed, machines all around him, dying. Just a single beeping tone ringing through the hallway where Dean stood at the window, watching helplessly through the thick glass, crying, shouting for some help, but no one would show up.

His skin was cold and damp from sweat.

Another nightmare.

Dean rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. "It gets better. Yeah, my ass," he whispered quietly to himself before getting up. Still drowsy, Dean stepped towards the kitchen to get a glass and water from the tab. Leaning against the counter and staring at the window, where the nightlife of the small town pulsed through the streets, flashing lights and signs everywhere. People were walking down the street, careless and laughing happily.

Dean wondered if he would ever be allowed to do something like that again. Just go out, get wasted, stumble home with a friend and his brother leaning against him at 4 a. m. and falling into bed without having to care for the world's fate.

He was so fucking tired, but he knew he would re-live that same nightmare again if he went to sleep now.

Soft footsteps made him look to the door, where Cas leaned shortly against the frame, perception lighting up in his puffy eyes once he saw Dean. Then he strolled towards Dean, got a glass of water for himself, and leaned against the counter beside Dean.

They didn't talk for minutes, just stood there in comfortable, companionable silence.

After countless moments, Dean sighed quietly, and Cas looked up at him, their eyes meeting in the process.

"You alright?" Dean asked.

"Yes, just a nightmare," Cas answered shrugging. "Happens frequently."

Dean nodded, looking back into his own glass and wishing it was a fifth of whiskey. Or make that two.

"Same with me."

"What do you dream about?" Cas raised an eyebrow at him, which Dean could see fairly well from the corner of his eye.

"Bobby's death," Dean answered, swallowing heavily. He had mentioned Bobby to Cas before, explained how he had been the closest he had to a father.

"How did he die?"

"Bullet to the brain." Saying it like that, it sounded so simple. And incredibly real.

"I'm sorry," Cas said quietly, nudging his shoulder against Dean's, a motion that made Dean smile bitterly. The old Cas would never have done something like that. But then again, he was through a lot, had had a lot of meetings where he surely had come into a situation or two where he had to comfort someone else. "No angel available to bring him back?"

Dean shook his head quietly. "You were already gone at the time. Which I also see again and again. Plus, lately, I see my brother die in that hospital."

There was a short silence before Cas spoke up again. "How did I die?" he eventually asked, his voice low and barely audible.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, but to no avail. His chest clenched at the thought, at everything that happened... Cas' desperate look when he apologized to Dean, how broken he was, how broken Dean was when he thought that he had lost Cas then and there... and then the Leviathans, and the lake and-

No, he couldn't do this. "I'm sorry, Cas, I can't," he said, covering his eyes with his hand in an attempt to hold back the tears that tried to well up.

"It's okay," Cas responded, leaning slightly against him again, "I understand."

Surprised Dean looked at him.

Cas nodded reassuringly. "I do. Look, Dean, I'm not blind. I see that something happened, more than you told me. Heavier stuff, darker stuff. With what happened before in your life and the apocalypse and all... I just... I know there is more. I know you can't talk about it now, and I understand. But if you will be able to eventually, then I'll be right here."

Dean hadn't noticed the tears running down his cheeks until a wet drop made its way to his lips, rolling across it. "Thanks, Cas," he managed to choke out.

And because Cas wasn't the Cas Dean knew any more, he leaned into Dean's space to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

Dean's breath hitched for a second. There hadn't been anyone in a long time who treated him like this. Sure, Sam cared, and Bobby had cared, and Frank and Jodie, in their own way, but not that easy, not like this. There he thought he had lost one of the best friends he had ever had, and still, Cas was here now. Out of reflex or just the need to feel another human's touch, Dean put the half-full glass of water aside and wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, leaning down to rest his head at the smaller man's shoulder.

He had been strong for months, because he had to be strong. For Sam, for Bobby, for everyone. He had been nothing but the shell that once was Dean Winchester, lady's man, hunter, caring big brother. Everything had broken down inside him, and he couldn't tell anyone about it. All his life he had been his little brother's protector, even more so after John had passed away. All his life he had watched out for others, and yet, everything had gone downhill from there. He felt useless, had felt so for a while, because everything he touched he wasn't able to save, no matter how much he tried and wanted to.

Cas' other hand came up to lay in his neck, hold him close, fingers trailing through the short hair on the back of his neck. It was soothing and gentle and Dean didn't feel like he deserved to be cared for like that. His defense had been maintained and build up carefully, especially during the past few months and years, and the wall in his mind, that separated him from his feelings and the part that would drive him crazy once he would let it in, was strong.

Yet, here and now, in this soothing hug he hadn't expected in any way, Dean broke down. Allowed himself to be his broken self, allowed himself to cry, because it was Cas. And even though Cas was the one who had his own mental problems, his amnesia and all, Cas was there for him, unconditionally. It was like their 'profound bond' had resurfaced unconsciously, like it never broke.

'Damnit, Cas, we can fix this.' - 'Dean, it's not broken.' echoed bitterly in his ears.

The wall crumbled to dust, and Dean found himself shaking and crying for countless minutes. He had no idea how he should ever make it, how he would ever be able to fix the mess that was his life. How he should be strong for Sam, who had even more serious problems than Dean had for himself. How he should stop the Leviathans. How he should rescue the world for the umpteenth time. All he knew was that he couldn't do it alone.

So they stood like that in the kitchen for a long time, Dean's hands clutching desperately onto Castiel's bare back and Castiel's hands on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles onto the skin. It felt good to finally let go, even if it was ten times of cheesy and girly, but damnit, Dean was sick and tired of playing strong.

When he eventually managed to get his shit together, Dean leaned back and let his hands drop, immediately missing the warmth of Cas' body against his.

"That's a first, you know?" Dean said, his voice rasp and rough from crying, and he had to look like shit right now. His eyes hurt.

"Me hugging you?" Cas asked back, bewildered.

"Us hugging at all."

"I thought we were friends for years? How come we never hugged?" Cas narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"We just didn't," Dean broke their eye contact to look out the window for a second, to chicken-shit to admit that he had been to proud to do it. Because he always thought he would make it alone, and because he had taken Cas for granted. He huffed at the thought.

Cas stepped up beside him, nudging their shoulders lightly before he spoke again. "You know, I've been attending the support group for people suffering from amnesia for pretty much all this year now. You learn a lot about listening and comforting others there. A lot of them have problems to deal with other family members, who are challenged by them not remembering key situations in their relationship, in their life. There are a lot of hurt feelings involved, because it just hurts if someone, for instance, can't remember the day of your marriage anymore. They often feel helpless, both sides, and the best way to deal with it, is trying to understand. And listen to the other one, and comforting him. A hug is the least you can do for anybody, and we often do it during meetings, just to reassure each other. It was harder for me, because I had no one, just myself to deal with. There was no one in my life who could tell me what I missed – hell, there wasn't anyone who could tell me what my name was. I was John for a year now, and now I'm suddenly 'Cas' again."

Dean swallowed. "It must be hard."

"It is, but it's only as hard as we make it. And now that you're here, even though you've got your own problems to deal with, I feel like-" Cas stopped mid-sentence, sighing and dropping his head to stare to the floor.

Dean turned his head to look at him, the familiar expression of confusion in Cas' face. They had spent years with each other, through good and bad times, so of course he knew Cas. And of course he would do anything to help him.

"What I'm intending to say," Cas starts anew, "is that I need you right now, and it seems like you could really need a friend in your life as well. So I hope that despite everything that happened, and I include the part I don't know about, that there's still a spot for me in your life."

Dean felt tears prickling up in his eyes again, but this time, they were not because of hurt and how fucked up his life is, but from fondness and, yes, joy. Without much thinking, Dean reached out to pull Castiel into his arms once more. It isn't as tight and desperate as before, but soft and gentle as Dean leaned his back against the counter, Cas standing between his legs without pressing into his body, just standing there and enjoying.

For a moment, Dean was happy.

But there was still Sam, and Dean sighed.

Cas jolted slightly, his arms twitching when he felt Dean's discomfort, and he whispered into Dean's ear, "If you don't want to go to the hospital alone tomorrow, wait until I'm back from work and we can go together," he offered.

"Dude, can you read my mind?" Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

Cas just huffed, his warm breath hitting the shell of Dean's ear.

"And you seriously telling me you don't have any angel mojo going on anymore?"

"What, can angels read minds?" Cas retorted in surprise.

"They're fucking angels, they can do pretty much everything. Against pulling people out of hell, mind-reading seems kinda minor, don't you think?" Dean answered amused. Everything about this was so innocent that it made him smile. A genuine, heartfelt smile, the first one that didn't hurt at the same time.

"Okay, point taken," Castiel said. "You wanna go back to bed?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, but then realized something else. "You couldn't sleep as well, right? Nightmares as well?"

Cas sighed. "Yes, often. For the first few months, I had to take medication so I could sleep at night at all, but that was when I was back in the hospital and under supervision. After I moved into this apartment three months back, I didn't want to depend on them any more, and stopped to take the pills. I take enough other stuff already, and the nightmares don't happen as frequent as before anymore."

"Tonight?" Dean asked quietly, almost whispering.

"Yes," Cas swallowed, which Dean could feel by his Adam's apple bopping up and down against his shoulder.

"What about?"

"A lot. Sometimes I think they're flashbacks, like my lost memory is locked somewhere inside my head, and resurfaces only during those nightmares. That's the reason I remembered your car, I dreamed about it the night before."

"Something else? Or what was it this night exactly?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Saw your face, all beaten-up, and I touched your cheek, and then you were yourself again. And the Impala was in there, too. Just that glimpse, then it was back to the usual night terrors. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before, though," Cas said, head still rested against Dean's shoulder.

Dean cleared his throat. "It is definitely a memory, Cas. That was the day we stopped the apocalypse. Sam- no, Lucifer in that moment, possessing Sam, had beaten me up that bad, and when Sam saw the car, he managed to push Lucifer back within his mind and jump into the pit... And then you were back, raised by what we thought was God, because it couldn't be anyone else."

"I was dead?"

Dean laughed silently. "You died three times for us, Cas."

"Tell me."

"The first time, you protected Chuck, the prophet, from Raphael, while we were busy with Lilith. Blew you up, but you returned, probably because of God – we still don't know. Second time, it was during that apocalypse I just told you... The third time was the one you lost your memory," Dean said heavily, not wanting to explain it any further.

Cas pursed his lips and pulled away. Momentarily shocked that he had hurt Cas, Dean watched him carefully, but Castiel only turned to the cupboard to get two mugs. Then he started to refill the electric water jug and turned it on.

"Tea?" Dean asked, both eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline.

"Tea," Cas nodded. "Peppermint or fruit tea?"

"Don't you have... beer or whiskey or something like that?"

Cas turned towards him and frowned deeply. "Dean, I don't have alcohol in my house. It may help to make you sleep, but when you're drunk, your sleep will not nearly be as refreshing. It's not good for your health anyway, and if you drink yourself to sleep, that surely isn't a solution. I discovered that tea was a much better idea. So, peppermint or fruit tea?"

"Peppermint," Dean said quietly. He hadn't had tea since... ever. Dean Winchester didn't drink tea.

But maybe Cas was right. While Dean watched him take two tea bags and placing them in the mug, then adding a spoonful of honey to each and pouring hot water over them, he pondered about Cas' words from before.

"You said you had to work in the morning. Where do you even work? I think we didn't talk about that yet."

Cas chuckled and handed one of the cups to Dean. "I'm flipping burgers at McDonalds. Pays the bills. I only work part-time, though, for a start. Maybe they let me stock up to full time in a few months, but we'll see."

"How long will you work tomorrow? Uhm- today, I mean," Dean asked, turning around to sit down at the small kitchen table. Cas flopped down on the chair opposite of him.

"From six to twelve. We can go visit Sam afterwards, if you want me to accompany you."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Dean admitted, toying around with the tea bag in his mug, absent-mindedly stirring his tea. He didn't know if he could stand the picture of his brother in that sterile white room again. It had almost made him break down yesterday. And having Cas with him at least gave him some kind of confidence.

They sat in silence, occasionally sipping at their mugs, but not looking at each other. It wasn't uncomfortable. For once, Dean felt save, even without a devil's trap and line of salt at the door. Or a bottle of borax beside his bed. His gun, and he had to think hard to remember, was somewhere on the bottom of his duffel bag. And he didn't care.

Suddenly feeling the need to, Dean broke the silence to tell Cas, "I promise I'll tell you what happened. Not today, but I will."

"Sure. Like I said, I'll wait. I know there's history to us, and I know it's not easy for you either."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean responded quietly. And before he realized what happened, Castiel reached over the table to cover Dean's hand with his, squeezing softly.

So the new Cas was a lot more touchy-feely than Dean had thought. It made him smile, though.

"What?" Castiel asked in wonder.

"You changed."

That was answered with a trademark head tilt, and Dean grinned at that.

"How did I change?"

"Back when we met, you were all serious and acting like you had a stick up your ass. After a few months, and after you rebelled, it got better, but you were still someone who couldn't so much as smile at something funny. Your social skills were equal to zero. But that's just how you were. And you know what?"

"Huh?"

"When Zachariah threw me five years into the future, and I saw what you would become – human, some kind of love guru, constantly stoned and a bad caricature of the serious angel you once were – then I knew that I didn't ever want you to change, and I told you so immediately after I got back. You just looked at me incredulously."

Cas chuckled. "So, what about the person I am now?"

Despite himself, Dean felt a smile curl up the edges of his lips. "I think I could get used to the way you are." Cas tilted his head once again. Before he could say anything, Dean added. "That, what you did just now, that cocking your head to the side, is something you always did," he grinned.

Cas reciprocated the grin before he got serious again. "You know, I can't fight the feeling that we had just the right timing to meet again."

"That may be true," Dean said, finishing his tea. Oddly enough, the tea made him feel warm from the inside, without the burning, bitter sensation that whiskey usually left in his mouth. He felt the incredible tiredness creep up once again.

Castiel had finished his beverage as well and got to his feet. "We've got an hour left until I have to get up for work. Let's get a few more minutes of sleep, okay?"

Dean nodded and followed him out of the kitchen. There were so many things he'd like to tell him right now, but none of them seemed to form into words in his mouth. So he just nodded. "Good night, Cas."

"See you in the morning," the other man answered and padded off to his bedroom.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he fell asleep so fast.

So, seeing as Supernatural will finally return to TV on Friday and this story is already finished and laying around on my harddrive, I'll update it twice daily from today on. That way, you'll be finished with it as soon as the show is back. What do you think?