June 4-5, 1995

His father's clawed fingers dug into Dean's throat as he held him down. The long, silver knife gleamed and reflected in the dark pools of Dad's eyes.

"Where is he?" Dad hissed in his face. "Where's the angel?"

Dean struggled, but his arms refused to move like they should, as if he were encased in wet cement. "No, Dad, please!" he gasped out past the grip crushing his throat.

"Angels get you killed! Now you'll see. Now you'll understand," Dad whispered into his ear, before pulling back and raising the knife. The movement slowed and stretched, and when the knife was at its highest, a set of black wings unfurled from his father's back, spreading wide. Wider than he could see. The feathers surrounded him, choked him.

Dad brought the knife down, plunging it into his own stomach and slicing upward. Guts spilled onto Dean in a slippery mass and blood poured everywhere, painting everything red.

Red.

Red everywhere. Covering Dean. Covering Dad. The great wings turned red instead of black. The red filled his eyes until there was nothing else.

"What did I tell you, son? I told you!" Dad's voice was in his ear, audible over his own screams, as he continued cutting into himself with the silver blade over and over and over again.

"No!" Dean bolted upright in bed, panting and shaking as he dragged himself out of the nightmare.

"Dean?" A whisper from his left.

For an instant, still in the grip of the dream, Dean panicked at the dark shape by the bed with its shadowed wings. Then the shape resolved itself into Castiel, not a demon.

He'd been dreaming.

"Are you all right?" Cas asked softly.

"Cas?" Dean took a deep, quaking breath. His skin still tingled with residual fear, but it was receding as he woke fully. "Yeah. Nightmare."

Creaking footsteps approached Dean's room and Cas slipped into the shadows in the corner as the door cracked open.

"Dean, everything okay?" Bobby peered in from the doorway, but didn't enter the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream," Dean reassured him.

To Dean's relief, Bobby didn't press the issue. "Okay, then. Holler if you need anything."

"Sure. Thanks."

Bobby retreated, closing the door behind him. Dean waited until the footsteps had made it all the way downstairs before whispering fiercely, "Cas! You could've been caught!"

Cas emerged from the shadows and sat at the edge of the bed. "But I wasn't. It's fine, Dean, don't worry. You were dreaming?" he asked, prompting Dean to sigh.

"Yeah." He fiddled with a spot on the edge of the blanket that was starting to come unraveled. The weight of the dream had left him, but the unsettled feeling remained. "I dreamed about my dad," he murmured. Normally, he'd rather eat nails than talk about something that left him feeling so raw, but somehow, with Castiel, it was okay.

"I suppose that shouldn't be surprising," Cas said as he pulled his feet up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his shins.

"I guess not," Dean replied. "I just can't get it out of my head, you know? When I close my eyes, it's all I see. All the- the blood and everything. Dammit, I hate feeling so helpless." He clamped his jaw shut to keep his lip from quivering.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Cas, you're the only reason I'm alive to be having bad dreams. It's not on you."

"I know," Cas assured him, "but I still regret that you had to witness what happened. I know it's difficult."

"Yeah." Dean looked down to study the blanket his fingers continued to fray.

After a pause, Cas spoke up again, his voice sounding oddly strained. "I understand what you're feeling."

Dean's eyes flicked back up. "Cas, I told you before that was creepy."

"No, I mean, I understand it. Yes, I can feel it, too, but..." He paused again, tightening his arms around his knees. "When I was first brought here, I saw my maker...my mother...killed as she tried to retrieve me. I was a child, and I didn't understand what was happening to me, but I saw her die. There was nothing I could do, either. So I do understand how you feel."

"Cas..." Dean was at a loss for words.

"It was a long time ago."

"I'm sorry, man."

Castiel smiled softly. "It wasn't your fault."

Dean huffed air through his nose in what might have been a laugh in another situation. "I guess not."

Cas breathed a slow sigh. "Even decades later, I still sometimes have nightmares."

Wait...

"Decades?" Dean asked incredulously.

Cas frowned a little, but confirmed with a nod.

"Um, Cas? Exactly how long have you been here?"

He cocked his head as he thought about it. "I can't tell you exactly how long. I lost track a long time ago. But it's been at least thirty-five years."

Dean knew he was staring, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around that. "That's impossible! You were a little kid the first time I saw you."

"Yes. When I was first brought here, I was just a fledgling. I stayed like that for many years. I only started growing again soon after I met you. After I healed you."

"Well, that's weird as shit," Dean declared. "Why would meeting me change things? And why'd you stay little beforehand? It doesn't make any sense."

Cas shrugged, apparently unbothered by it. "I don't know. It's just the way it is."

Dean humphed, puzzling briefly over what he'd just learned before shaking his head and letting it go for the moment. He met Cas's eyes in the dark room. "I'm sorry about your...maker."

"Me, too," Cas answered softly.

Taking a deep breath, Dean scrubbed his fingers through his short hair. "Let's talk about something else."

Cas nodded. "All right." Unsurprisingly, he didn't offer any alternative topics.

"So, um...Bobby's gonna let us live with him."

"That's very kind of him," Cas replied.

"Yeah. His place is up in Sioux Falls. He owns a salvage yard there. He's been a friend of my dad's forever, and we ended up there a lot when we were kids. He seems crabby, but really he's a great guy."

Cas nodded. "That's good."

"So, you'll be able to find us there?" Dean asked. "I mean, without Sam or me getting hit by a car or eaten by bears or something?"

"Yes, I can always find you."

"And you will, right? Come visit us?"

"Yes. I assumed you would want that after our discussion earlier."

Dean nodded. "Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure."

A hint of a smile crossed Cas's face.

Dean started to return the smile, but it broke into a huge yawn instead.

"I'll go now," Cas said as he got to his feet. "You should sleep if you can."

Feeling much calmer now, Dean thought sleep might not be out of the question. "Okay. Thanks. For talking."

"You're welcome."

As Dean watched, Castiel spread his wings and disappeared with a rustle of feathers. Sam had been reading up on angels and demons at the library for a while now. Maybe he'd have some idea how to explain Cas's bizarre past. Dean would have to ask him tomorrow.