Chapter 3: Small Hours

The sound of his name spoken in an insistent manner woke Dean. He startled to glare in the direction of Sam's voice, the fluorescent light around his brother's frame making him squint and protect his eyes. "What is it Sam?"

"It's Cas. He's been sick." The tall Winchester glanced back towards the bathroom where the light was coming from.

Dean strode past him, cross. "Why didn't you wake me up!" He growled at the angel sitting slightly shaking in front of the toilet bowl.

"There was no need, Sam was already assisting me," Castiel nodded his acknowledgments in the tall man's direction.

"What happened!" Dean demanded from his brother now.

"You would obviously try to shake someone out of a nightmare if they look like they're having one," Sam asserted, "and he snapped out of it pretty quickly, then ran in here to throw up."

"It's ok Cas," Dean wasn't sure who he was placating, himself or his friend, "it happens to the best of us after a real bad one." The Winchesters were experts at it, their dad included, he would know. "Do you think you're done here?"

"I don't think there's anything else to expel," Castiel speculated, though not looking completely sure.

"Do you still feel sick?" Dean probed.

"Not nearly as bad as before," the angel was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down with a hand on his stomach.

"Have we got Gaviscone?" Dean inquired.

Sam nodded and disappeared swiftly to dig in his rucksack while Dean gently manoeuvred Castiel back towards the bed. "Tell me about the nightmare Cas. Is it a memory?"

"I don't know Dean."

"Does it feel too confusing to figure out whether all of it is an actual memory of purgatory or is your mind playing tricks on you?" The hunter sympathised.

"I don't know Dean," Cas shook his head defeated, "I don't remember".

Dean frowned. It was hard to see the angel appear so whitewashed and weary, "look man, I'm the last person who volunteers to share, but sometimes it helps to talk about it.

"I said I don't remember." Castiel raised his voice, looking sharply at his friend.

The older Winchester sighed, rubbing his thighs as he arrived to a decision, "okay, you don't want to talk about it, I get it."

Castiel shook his head, "I don't know if I would want to talk about it if I remembered it, but I in actual fact don't remember it. I know it's unpleasant, I know that it makes me uneasy to the extent of physical sensations, but I do not know what I dream about," the angel raised analytical eyes at the hunters, seemingly calmed.

"It is possible he represses memories subconsciously. I mean, if we would dwell on every memory and every dream we had, we would've gone crazy by now," Sam reasoned.

"Well, in that case, I want you to show me what happens when you go to sleep," Dean insisted, "you can enter my dreams, I'm quite sure you would be able to make me enter yours."

Castiel gave a small, quizzical headshake, "I'm not sure what a feat like that would achieve."

"Cas, I left you alone in purgatory once, I'm not about to repeat that!" Dean argued unwaveringly, "mojo my dreamland to yours or whatever it is you need to do and we can fight together!"

"I do not wish to give you nightmares," the angel tried to reason, "furthermore, I cannot predict what will happen in there."

"They are just dreams, right? Nothing can happen to me. If anything, helping this way could make me feel better for leaving you," Dean placed an encouraging hand on Castiel's shoulder, "not as if you will need to sleep or dream every night after you regain your strength."

"I could still wake both of you up if I see you struggle," Sam offered helpfully.

"See? Sam will wake me up," Dean placated, "now let's get your medication and off to sleep with us," the hunter directed, not letting Castiel argue further.

Tbc