"Dean!"
His own name is always the first thing on his mind when he wakes every morning. His name spoken in a deep rumbling rasp of a voice that sounds as if its owner has just woken up. He would find it a pleasant voice if not for the terror that accompanies his dreams.
The dreams continue for the next week straight. It wouldn't be so bad at home if he didn't have Sam's look directed at him every morning followed by questions of 'Are you alright, Dean?' and 'If you ever need to talk...'
Dean always brushes him off with an insistent 'I'm fine.'
At first it was only at nights so he was able to escape the pain and panic for an hour or two of pure, dreamless bliss, but that changed quickly.
Soon it was even five minute power naps that had him jumping awake in a blind panic, breath heavy and heart pounding wildly with his name echoing through his head. Dean hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in six days, and had even been trying to catch a twenty minute snooze in the cool air of the lab.
His coworkers never mentioned Samandriel's strange disappearance nor the fact that he seemed perfectly buddy-buddy with everyone one moment, then stone cold and cut off like a robot the next. Dean never mentioned it either but preferred to observe quietly. His hunches are usually spot on, and he had a serious hunch that something was seriously wrong with that kid and this place.
He grew closer to Charlie, Kevin and Garth but maintained a professional distance with Bella, Adam and especially Samandriel. He even went so far as to exchange numbers with Charlie and Kevin so they could text and maybe meet up for a movie night sometime. He found that out of all his coworkers, he liked those three and Chuck most of all.
He skipped lunch the past two nights though, choosing to sit and talk to Castiel, even if he never verbally replied. He thinks he's getting the hang of the experiment's method of communication down pact now. Heavy feeling? Bad response. Light feeling? Good response.
Every night he is greeted with such a light feeling that he can't help the smile that light his face as he greets the sleeping form with an easy 'hey, Cas.'
Chuck had been around more over the past few days as well, and Dean had been slowly learning more and more about the experiments and the facility he spent his nights.
It would seem that out of all of the scientists, Chuck is the only one that Castiel had attempted to engage.
Dean now found himself talking to Chuck about Castiel.
"But the craziest part is that I think he chooses who feels his influence and who doesn't." Chuck often tended to speak with his hands, gesturing wildly when passionate or excited or using small waves when calm. "I made the mistake of documenting the sensations when I felt them in the middle of the work day. I had thought that everyone else felt them, so I had assumed they documented it and did so as well. That's why Naomi came and got me the one day. I guess she's anxious to see who wakes up next or which one shows signs of awakening."
Chuck paused, seeming to gather his thoughts before finishing. "If you ask me, it's either him or Monday that'll wake up next."
Dean glanced at him curiously.
"You really think so?"
Chuck nodded before glancing at the clock and jumping.
"Oh! I gotta get going, it's very late. I don't want to keep you."
"Nah, man. It's cool, get home." Dean waved him off with one hand absentmindedly.
Chuck said his goodbyes and scurried up the steps and through the doors while Dean grabbed his supplies from his cart and set about sanitizing and disinfecting.
His eyes burned and his movements were sluggish from lack of sleep the past few days. He tried not to think of his reoccurring nightmares, but sometimes he got swept up in the feeling of burning from the inside of and frozen water surrounding him that he had to fight just to cling to reality.
His hands trembled slightly while he worked and he decided right then and there that he couldn't hold it in any longer. He wasn't going to tell anyone, damn sure wasn't going to mention the dreams to Sam. But surely it wouldn't hurt to mention them to Cas? Little guy couldn't offend him with some far fetched hypothesis that couldn't be further from the truth.
But thinking about it, even he didn't know the truth.
He figured it couldn't hurt so he started telling the experiment what was has been plaguing him. The air remained nice and light, a sign that Castiel was in a good mood that day.
"So, uh Cas. You ever have dreams in there?" He glanced up, nervously licking his lips before nodding his head at the lack of response. "I don't even know if you know what dreams are, but they're like movies your brain plays while you're sleeping. Sometimes they're good, they feel good. But other times..."
Dean trailed off, shivering slightly and returning to wiping everything down with renewed vigor.
"Other times they're pretty shitty, I mean you feel pain and sometimes it's so intense you can't even figure out what's real and what's made up." He set his rag down to the side, beginning to organize the papers on the tables methodically. "Well. Lately I've been having the bad ones, man. Can't get no sleep. They won't friggen' leave me alone. No matter how much I drink, they're still there."
He paused, a stack of papers in hand as he glanced up at the massive tank.
"It's like fire, man." He swallowed and looked down at the papers. "Fire and then ice and I can't see anything. Can't hear nothin', it's only pain. Can't even ask for help. But it's the same thing. All the time. Same, exact thing. It always ends the same way. Always ends with-"
"Dean." The air dropped for a split second and it felt as if a giant weight had settled in the room before disappearing altogether.
Dean stopped short, eyes going wide and mouth falling open.
The voice!
He looked frantically around, eyes scanning the entire area. It was empty.
The only person there was him, him and Cas but he was a fish right now and he's pretty sure fish don't speak.
"Ahhh," Dean groaned. "Look at me, so fucked up that I'm hearing shit now."
He returned to his task with more focus, mouth set in a deep frown.
The air around him seemed to ripple in curiosity, sliding between light and heavy in a dizzying spin that had him pausing his movements to look up at the experiment.
He studied the male quietly.
He noted that his short, dark hair still managed to sway in some unseen current. The IVs in his arms seemed to be the same ones, but from what Chuck had told him, they were replaced every day to keep any bacteria from growing. Dean wondered who had the unfortunate task of getting that close.
He took noticed of pale limbs that should look frail and weak but instead looked slightly muscled. Perhaps it was because of what he was, Chuck had reminded him several times that what lie sleeping in the tank was not human, no matter how similar it looked.
He wondered what his face looked like and was startled by the sudden pang of intensity that shot through him at the thought. He felt as if he needed to see Cas' face.
Not that it would happen.
Guy was sleeping in water, after all, he couldn't move his arms.
He found himself standing right beside the tank, eyes focused on the face hidden behind arms before the sound of the doors opening had him jumping around before he could stop himself.
"Hey, Samandriel." He spoke before the kid had even a small chance to open his mouth. He probably looked quite guilty in that moment, guilty of what? He wasn't sure, but if there was ever a telltale guilty face, he was sure he had it.
"Dean." He breathed pleasantly, a kind smile on his face. He wasn't someone else tonight, awesome. "We hadn't seen you for lunch, I was wondering if you'd like to join us?"
Dean hesitated. He hadn't gone because he didn't want prying eyes to see the circles under his own, the restlessness that comes along in slight twitches and light trembles from sleep deprivation and long nights.
Should he go?
A slight sliver of heaviness that twirled around his head gave him his answer before he had made up his mind.
"Nah, man. Not feeling too hungry tonight." He brushed it off easily, spoke as if it was no big deal.
If Samandriel was disappointed, he didn't show even a sliver.
"Oh, is something bothering you? Are you feeling unwell?" Concern laced his words.
"No, no, nothing like that. Just not hungry." He spoke assertively, not aggressively, just forcefully enough to convey that he would not budge on this.
"Alright, well you know where to go if you should change your mind."
Not likely.
"Yeah. Thanks."
He returned to work not even a second later, keeping his back to the door and listening for the whoosh that signaled when the other male had finally left his wing.
The rest of his night passed uneventfully.
He cleaned, he made a comment here or there to keep Castiel happy and he finished up a half hour early.
Instead of leaving right away, he caught himself staring at the tank again. He felt drawn to it, as if something were calling him but he chalked it up to not really being able to talk to anyone else and his unique little weird friendship he had going on. If he could even call it that.
When he got home, he made sure to drink at least a pint of whiskey before stumbling off to bed in hopes of drowning out his ability to dream.
If only it actually helped.
There was only so many ways Dean could describe the hot fury that ran through him that night. Only so many words to put together in an effort to process in his mind what took place.
Nonetheless, he dreamt of the fire once more.
It ran, swift and searing, throughout his body in a ruthless quest to destroy that he was sure he would be screaming and writhing had it not been for the fact that he physically couldn't move.
He had had this dream enough times that he started paying attention through the fiery haze to other sensations such as a slight tugging and pulling at his arms. A light pinch at the creases of his elbows.
Through the murmurs he always inevitably heard, he picked up on one in particular that could swear sounded like Chuck.
But, as always, before he could focus and know for certain his body was consumed by a frigid rush that cut through the heat so thoroughly that it caused a burn more severe than the fire itself.
The two temperatures contrasted so greatly that this is what Dean imagined broke hot coffee pots when you immediately rinsed them in cool water.
After all, it broke him every time.
He didn't think he would ever get used to this.
He didn't think he would get used to the pain, but he knew for a fact that he would never be able to escape the blind panic that always gripped him.
He tried to gasp in shock at the rapid change in temperature, couldn't even grind his teeth together to help bear with the pain.
Would he ever get out?
Would he every escape the cold, rigid claws of his nightmares?
He didn't think so as another wave of frigid fire washed over him.
As always, just when he thought he would never escape, that he would be stuck forever in this brutal hell of his, his angel called out to him, saving him from another moment of torture.
"Dean!"
The next morning had found him sitting up in bed and gasping wildly as he fought to calm his erratic heart and his shaking hands.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He ground his teeth in a thin effort not to scream out in frustration.
He was tired.
He was so done with these freaking dreams that he was willing to drink himself into oblivion ten times over if it meant not having that dammed dream again.
He dressed slowly, ate a meager breakfast of toast with butter and headed out to work.
At least when he drank so much he was able to sleep longer, no matter how restless and unrewarding the sleep was. No matter how much more exhausted he was after, sleep was still sleep.
Dean entered his place of work in a daze, not paying much mind to anything really as he made his way to the supply closet to stock up, slip on his jumper and head over to Thursday.
In some ways, he was beginning to enjoy being at work a whole hell of a lot more than being home because at least he didn't have to worry about accidentally falling asleep and succumbing to one of his awful nightmares again.
He listened to the doors open with a vague acknowledgement and stepped through. He noted that Chuck wasn't there this time before nodding his head in greeting toward the center of the room.
"Hey, Cas." He said in greeting, as was his usual.
What he didn't expect, however, had him damn near on the ground.
"Hello, Dean."