"Dean, this isn't the first time he's dissapeared," Cas sternly reassured. "I'm sure he's alright."
Dean slammed the now empty whiskey glass on the table. "You can't know that, Cas!" he shot back. "He's never been gone this long. God." He pressed his fingers to his throbbing temple.
"Dean, you haven't slept in thirty-nine hours." Cas said in a gravelly voice. He leaned on the chair opposite of Dean. "You should get some rest."
Dean stared down into the whiskey glass as if Sam were somewhere inside it. He sighed, the weight of past thirty-nine hours heavy on his shoulders. "Can't sleep." He muttered, taking the glass in his hand and fiddling with it.
Though his eyes were on the glass, he could feel Cas' staring at him intently. The angel cocked his head ever so slightly to the left, a habit that Dean had surely picked up. He looked back into Castiel's ocean eyes.
"Why can't you sleep, Dean?"
Averting his eyes, Dean shrugged. "Just can't." A single drop of amber rolled around in the glass.
"Can't or won't?" Cas asked accusingly, eyes still on Dean.
Dean's drooping head swerved back to Cas, revealing his infamous "bitch" face. "Whatever gets you to leave me the hell alone." He rolled his eyes. "Don't you have a war or something going on upstairs? Don't you always have something going on upstairs?"
"I am not leaving you." Cas said forcefully, walking around the cheap motel table. "You are not well. Go to sleep, Dean."
Before the hunter could react, Cas extended two fingers and brought them to Dean's forehead, gently tapping him. Willing him to sleep.
"Cas..." Dean growled threateningly, but was cut off. His head bobbed and fell against his chest, and his tense body fell against the back of the cheap, dirty chair.
Cas moved to the side, preparing to carry the hunter to the bed, but jerked away when he stirred. With a growl, Dean forced his heavy eyelids open and his woozy head up. His emerald eyes were darker now, cloudy in relentlessly fighting the forced sleep he refused to submit to. Head bobbing violently, he hurled himself off the chair with an angry grumble, sending Cas springing backwards.
"I. Can't. Sleep." Cas was nearly horrified at the shadow that passed over Dean's lined face.
Cas' blue eyes widened. "How...did you do that, Dean? No one has ever been able to fight, me, resist being put to sleep. How?"
Dean gave a hot, breathy laugh. he shook his head, turning away from the angel. "I can't." He pitifully muttered to himself, ignoring Cas' probing question.
Cas was getting increasingly annoyed at Dean's cryptic responses. "But why?" He demanded, walking so that his face was inches away from Dean's. "We've been looking for Sam for the past thirty-nine hours and you haven't gotten a wink." Cas gripped his shoulders, forcing the hunter to face the question. "What is hurting you so bad, that you can't even sleep?"
To the angel's surprise, Dean bit his lip, and tears began to form at the edges of his emerald eyes. Dean shook his head helplessly as to avoid Cas' softening glare. The angel's grip on his shoulders relaxed.
"Because I can't let myself, Cas."
The hunter turned towards the angel again, useless in hiding the tears that began to fall. Cas wouldn't have been surprised if they were made of the whiskey he had been drowning himself in for days.
There seemed like nothing Cas could say that could stop the soul-crushing tears of Dean Winchester from falling. His hands were still holding Dean, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him into a desperate hug.
"What..." Cas cleared his throat. "What is it, Dean?" he asked, ever so quietly.
The hunter brought himself to look into Cas' deep blue eyes. "Every time I look at you, Cas," he barely choked the words out of his tight throat. "I see what they do to you in my dreams. Every damn night. And it makes me want to kill myself."
Cas' gut twisted. The thought...of Dean killing himself...it was unbearable. Enough to make him tremble. Though the angel never slept himself, he shuddered at the thought of having to watch Dean be tortured every night. He swallowed.
Slowly, cautiously, Cas slid his hands down Dean's arms. When Dean showed no sign of repulsion, Cas carefully took the hunters's rough hands in his. Locking onto his foresty eyes, intertwining their fingers.
"Cas, what..." Dean croaked, observing the angel's face. Cas backed away, pulling Dean with him towards one of the cheap motel beds. "What are you doing?"
Cas said nothing, but pulled Dean in front of him to nudge him onto the bed. Letting go of his hands, the angel kneeled down in front of him.
"Whoa, Cas," Dean protested, holding out his hands. "I appreciate the flattery, but really not in the mood for a blowjob right now." He joked tiredly.
Cas looked confused. "No Dean, I'm not going to give you a...blowjob." He reached for one of Dean's feet and began pulling off the shoe. "Just try and relax?"
Dean opened his mouth as if to argue, but nothing came out. He watched as Cas pulled off both shoes, and said nothing when he stood up and carefully pulled his leather jacket off.
Cas peeled a part of the rough covers back. "Get in bed, Dean." he commanded authoritatively, yet gently.
Dean looked Cas up and down, confused at the new behavior he was seeing. "Aw, Cas," he teased, exhaustion hanging at the end of each word. "I get all tingly when you take control like that."
Dean was beginning to question whether his words were truly sarcasm or not.
Cas sighed. "I mean it, Dean."
"I won't sleep." Dean said sincerely, yet still beginning to crawl into the bed. He was too tired to argue any longer.
"You don't have to." Cas responded. To the hunter's surprise, Cas swiftly slipped off his shoes and trench coat, throwing it onto the other bed. Before Dean could pull the covers over him, the angel slipped between the sheets, scooting his way over.
After clicking off the dusty lamp, Castiel pressed himself against Dean. The angel slid his hand up Dean's side, stopping at his arm. Cas wrapped his arms around the hunter, softly stroking his muscular arm.
"Is this okay, Dean?" Cas asked in a whisper. Warmth flooded Dean's body. The angel's deep voice was teasing his ear, and the heat of his breath made Dean lean earnestly into his broad chest. "You don't have to sleep. You don't have to dream. Just rest."
Dean had never felt safer in Cas' arms, secure against his chest. To his own surprise, his feet moved to tangle with the angels, intertwining them comfortably.
"Yeah."
Just as he was nodding off into something of a sleep, he felt Cas' breath intensify on his neck. It grew warmer, until he felt the unexplainably soft lips of the angel press against the relaxed skin of his neck.
"Sweet dreams, Mr. Winchester."
