I Dream of Destiel

It was happening again.

Dean Winchester was having a nightmare.

As usual, the nightmare was about his time spent in Hell. The torture. The screaming. The pain, the blood, the way the hooks and knives ripped into his flesh, tore him to pieces, but somehow he was always put back together again-

This was the most vivid dream of all. He could feel his body being torn apart. He was crying out in his sleep, thrashing apart on the motel bed, tearing tiny holes in the sheets with his nails and hands. He was grabbing out for something, anything, to hold onto.

It had been two years and this happened nearly every night.

But it hadn't ever been this bad.

As usual, Sam Winchester was woken up by his brother's loud moans of terror. He didn't know what to do. In the past he'd woken Dean up, but Dean just got mad and said he was having a sex dream. But Sam knew different, because if it was one of those Dean would've gone into the bathroom for awhile and then returned and fallen back asleep. With these dreams, Dean spent the rest of the night awake staring blankly out the window with some sort of classic rock blasting loudly into his ears. Sam had tried to talk to him, but by that point Dean was dead to the world and Sam had nothing to do but go back to sleep.

He didn't want to wake Dean up tonight. Dean needed his sleep and besides, sometimes the dreams stopped and Dean would whimper quietly for awhile and then go back to sleeping peacefully.

It didn't seem as though that would happen tonight, so Sam did the only other thing he could think of- he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the angel Castiel.

Before Sam had even finished dialing however, the angel was there with the sound of wings flapping. He looked over at Dean, then back to Sam.

"What would you have me do?"

Sam shook his head a little at the serious way the angel spoke before pointing to Dean.

"I think he needs someone to hold on to. Someone he… Cares about."

Castiel tilted his head inquisitively. "Why would he need that?"

Sam sighed. Explaining things to the angel was frustrating, especially at a time like this when his brother was just a few feet away being tortured by his own mind.

"Well, for comfort. He's dreaming about Hell. He doesn't have anyone, Cas. You know that. He has me, but I'm his brother and he gets upset whenever I try to talk to him about it. But you seem to be able to sense his emotions pretty well, so I figured you could help."

Castiel nodded. "I could feel his pain from miles away. That is why I came here immediately."

He walked over to the bed and sat down, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean screamed louder and jerked himself away from Castiel's touch.

"As far as I know, he feels like he's experiencing Hell all over again. So when you touch him it's like he's being hurt."

Castiel looked up at Sam. "What should I do?"

Sam sighed again tiredly before walking over to the edge of the bed. He wordlessly removed Castiel's trenchcoat, shoes, and tie. After setting them down on a chair, he came back to the bed.

"Castiel, I need you to… hug my brother."

Tired as he was, Sam couldn't help but smirk as he said those words. Dean cried out again though, and he sobered.

He watched as Castiel looked down at his sleeping brother with a strange expression in his deep eyes. He smiled a bit as the angel laid down next to Dean and put an arm under his neck, and the other around his waist. Dean's screams turned to gasps, and then occasional whimpers before he completely relaxed. His eyes fluttered open for a moment but he felt somehow safe enough to fall back asleep. Closing his eyes again, he snuggled closer to Castiel's warmth and began snoring softly.

Sam looked at the angel with a shocked expression on his face. Was it really this easy? Why hadn't he called Castiel before?

"How did you do that?" he asked, awed.

Castiel didn't answer, however. He was too busy stroking Dean's damp hair softly and running a hand up and down his back. Sam stared at them intensely. Maybe it was the room's odd light, or maybe it was just because he was so damn tired. But the more he looked, the more he swore he could see the faint shape of Castiel's black wings enveloping his brother.

It seemed as though no matter what happened, Castiel would always be there to grip Dean tight and raise him from perdition. Literally.