Chapter 16

In the real world, Dean never wanted Castiel anywhere near him at night. He'd be more welcome on the street than with the hunter in a motel. Even in the bunker, Castiel had a tendency of leaving for the night while the Winchesters slept. He didn't particularly like it, but he didn't think to complain. It's just how Dean wanted it.

This Dean is different.

Lying in bed next to the sleeping hunter, Castiel realizes he truly can't emphasize just how different he is. Castiel hasn't felt this welcome in a long time — possibly ever. It's all the incentive he needs to take this fight with Amara seriously; they may have beat her once, but those rules don't necessarily apply here, and he isn't willing to risk this life with Dean by his side for anything.

As an angel, Castiel doesn't sleep, but he's more than capable of entertaining himself with his thoughts. He's just conscious enough to notice Dean begin squirming around in bed. He doesn't think to do anything at first — he doesn't know what a normal sleep pattern is — but when the hunter starts whimpering under his breath, Castiel realizes he should probably do something.

"Dean," Castiel whispers, gently putting a hand on the hunter's shoulder.

Instantly, Dean bolts upright, already reaching under his pillow for his gun. It takes him a brief moment to process what's happening, and he slowly lowers his pistol with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, man," Dean says. "I didn't mean to sleep-threaten you again."

Again. This must be a common occurrence. Does the real Dean have nightmares this often, too?

"It's okay," Castiel assures him. "You couldn't sleep-kill me if you tried. At least, not with that."

Dean gives him a half-assed smile. "Yeah, I guess so, but I'm sure it would still hurt like a bitch."

"Eh." Castiel shrugs. He's had worse. He's had a lot worse. Changing the subject away from his own mortality or lack thereof, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Dean nods. "Just a bad dream. Don't worry about it."

"What was it about?" Castiel asks.

"Just..." Dean gestures helplessly. "Life."

Castiel doesn't ask him to elaborate — he knows Dean doesn't like so-called "chick flick moments" — but he doesn't respond, either. He just waits, giving Dean the chance to explain or change the subject.

Ultimately, Dean changes the subject. He rests his head on Castiel's shoulders, their fingers intertwining. "I'm scared, Cas. I really am. What if we don't make it through this one?"

"We will," Castiel says firmly. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure of it.

"But if we don't..." Dean takes a deep breath. "If we don't, I just want to tell you more, these last few years with you have been the best years of my life. And I feel like I don't tell you that enough, but I'm really trying to make sure I do. I want you to know that. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I love you, and you have to remember that, just in case one or both of us don't make it out of this alive."

Castiel lets out a long breath. "I wish we didn't have to worry about this. I wish we could be normal, just for once."

With a small almost-smile, Dean says, "What, the constant threat of our impending deaths doesn't turn you on?"

Castiel chuckles. "Unfortunately not." He rests his head on top of Dean's. "I love you, Dean. More than you know."

"I love you, too."

"C'mere." Dean lies back down in bed, gently pulling Castiel down with him. He wraps his arms around the angel's torso and closes his eyes. "G'night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."