I don't own Supernatural. But I do own the banana I just ate. Well, did own it when it existed...
It took almost a week for Dean and Bobby to track down all the ingredients behind Sam's back. In that time Castiel hadn't made anymore appearances that Dean could remember. Dean had also broken down and started taking pain medication once headaches had gotten bad enough.
"What's that?" Sam asked, looking up from where he had collapsed on his bead
"Sleepy time tea." Dean kept stirring the russet colored liquid in his mug.
"You having trouble sleeping?" Sam frowned.
"Naw, just thought it might make me cough less."
"Right." Sam sat up and faced his brother. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if it seemed like I was pushing you. I wouldn't want you to force me to do anything and—."
"Hey, it's fine. Believe me, I wouldn't let you lie down." Dean half-laughed. "In fact, I probably would have locked you in a room until you were better or somethin' else crazy like that." He sniffed the tea experimentally, frowned, and poured in another three packs of sugar.
"Isn't that a little excessive?"
"Sugar makes me sleepy." Dean took a sip and fought back the gag.
Sam rolled his eyes and lay back down.
Dean sat on his own bed and downed the rest of the concoction before he could think better of it. Immediately he felt the effects, barely managing to mumble a night to his brother before passing out.
..
Dean found himself in a crappy motel room, not unlike the one he has just fallen asleep, only empty besides the bed he was on. He stood and frowned. It was creepy how non-dreamlike it was.
"Okay, well, how about a gun?" He'd always felt more secure with a weapon and was pleased when one appeared on the bed. "Awesome." Dean checked his clip. Probably wouldn't be helpful at all, but at least he felt safer. He conjured up a table and some chairs. Demon traps popped up on the ceiling and floor, a silver cup filled with Holy water on the table. He didn't know if any of these would work, but he sure as Hell was gonna try.
"Alright, Castiel, why don't you fly your feathery ass on down here." Dean waited, unsure if it would actually work or not. The moments ticked by in that weird dream way. "I know you can hear me, you son of a bitch."
"Hello, Dean." The closeness of the voice made Dean jump back, whacking his knee on a chair. He was slightly surprised to find that it still hurt, even in a dream.
"Jesus." Dean raised the gun without thought.
"I don't see why that is necessary. You called me."
Dean frowned and lowered the weapon after a moment's hesitation. "Right."
"I wouldn't work anyway." He walked to the table and picked up the glass of Holy water to study it. "Holy water doesn't affect me. Neither does iron or demon traps." He set the glass back down and looked at Dean unblinking. "Is that the only reason you summoned me? To test me?"
"I summoned you because I want to know what the hell is going on."
Castiel cocked his head. "Going on?"
"Yeah. What are you? My subconscious? How did you know I was . . ." Dean trailed off.
"Dying? I told you, I'm an angel. I know many things. The state of your health is a small detail."
"How do I know you aren't lying?"
"Your mother always said angels were watching over you, and she was not wrong."
Dean suddenly remembered his nightmare. "Did you give me that dream?"
"I was hoping it would explain in a more comforting way."
"That thing was creepy as Hell."
"Hell isn't creepy. Terrifying, but I wouldn't consider it creepy."
Even in a dream the literal angel was giving Dean a migraine.
"I sense you still have doubts about my identity."
"You hit the nail on the head, Sherlock."
Castiel stared at Dean for a few uncomfortable seconds, then the lights in Dean's dream room started flickering, dimming, and popping. Castiel's shoulders flexed and on the wall behind him a shadow of giant wings appeared. A cold chill ran up Dean's back.
"I hope that is proof enough," Castiel said as the lighting returned to normal and the shadow faded.
Dean shrugged.
"I could also reveal my true form, but that would most likely be too much for you."
"What? All angels don't walk around looking like holy tax accountants?"
"No, I assure you, my true form is roughly the size of the Chrysler Building and revealing it may blind you."
"Ok then, we'll avoid that." The two stared at each other. "So what do we do now?"
"That is up to you, Dean."
"Well, seein' as you have control of my dreams more than I do, I'm not so sure about that."
"I can make it so you are aware of your dreams without use of the Root."
"That'd be nice. That stuff tastes like ass."
"And I can answer any questions you might have." Castiel looked up and Dean followed his gaze, but saw nothing besides the ceiling. "For right now, I'm afraid I must go. Sam is trying to wake you."
"What do you mean? It's only been ten minutes."
"Time passes much differently in your sleep, Dean." Castiel reached out and touched two fingers to Dean's forehead.
..
"Dean!" Sam's concerned voice finally got through to Dean and the older brother sat up.
"I'm awake, I'm awake."
"That tea must have really knocked you out. I don't think you even moved." Sam was trying to joke, but Dean could see the concern on his face.
"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean smiled. "Best sleep I've had in weeks."
See? Much more of a chapter chapter than the last shorties I've written.
Read and Review! You all are angels!
~abrokencastiel