Of all the chorus of heaven, I trust only one, to sing me to sleep...
Title: Of all the chorus of heaven, I trust only one, to sing me to sleep...
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 5.03 (set between 5.03 and 5.04)
Characters: pre Dean/Castiel,
Word Count: 2,100
Summary: Dean was about as tired as he’d ever been, and that was saying something. Bone-deep, not caring if he lived or died, sick with sleeplessness tired. He didn't know what he wanted or needed until it was there...
A/N: written for the hoodie_time's writing between the lines challange for This Prompt. Thanks as always to my wonderful beta pyjamagurl
Dean was about as tired as he’d ever been, and that was saying something. Bone-deep, not caring if he lived or died, sick with sleeplessness tired. He had been driving for two days, the empty seat beside him haunting him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, fighting the urge to stare across at the void beside him. As much as he tried to ignore it though, it was eating him up. The emptiness seemed to swallow the entire world, so that all that was left was the black nothingness of the road stretching ahead.
He reached out and irritably turned off the radio, sick of the late night easy listening. The silence seemed preferable, comforting. He wrapped himself up in it, and tried to fill the hole inside of him with it.
He could have been in Sioux Falls earlier that night, but had picked up some demon omens in Minnesota. He would call Bobby in the morning to let him know where he was. Frankly he was avoiding Bobby. He had given up trying to get Dean and Sam talking again, but Dean knew Bobby still thought the brothers going their separate ways was a bad idea. Dean was still stubbornly clinging to the idea that apart they reduced the risks.
He had tried to convince Castiel on the way out of Maine that he was happy alone. Happier than he had been in years. He could see in the angel's eyes that Castiel hadn't believed him. Dean wasn't surprised, as much as he wanted to believe it, the words had sounded hollow even to him. When the angel had disappeared he tried to convince himself that that was ok too.
The fact was, the angel's presence for those couple of days in Maine had been a lifeline. Dammed if he was going to call Castiel and ask him to join him again though, his Winchester stubbornness wouldn't allow him to.
The memory of Castiel's uncertain smile and mussed up appearance drifted in his thoughts. He wondered how on earth, he of all people had come to rely so much on an angel. His thoughts shied away from the loyalty Castiel had given him, of the sacrifice beyond his understanding that the angel had made, simply because Dean asked him to. He couldn't comprehend someone doing that for him, least of all an irritable, bigger picture kinda being like Castiel.
Dean gripped the wheel tighter, and tried to blink the hazy blur of the road back into focus, gritting his teeth against the direction of his thoughts. He stubbornly tried to push aside the bone deep weariness urging him to pull over as well.
He had hardly slept for the last week, nothing more than a few hours here and there. The moment he stopped moving his thoughts kicked into overdrive. Wondering where Sammy was, wondering how on earth they were going to stop the world's headlong dash to ruination. Wondering where Castiel was, and why he kept putting himself on the firing line for him.
As long as he kept moving, he could hold the growing pit of dread inside of him at bay. If he stopped for a moments rest, he thought it would swallow him, and he would never be able to move again.
His body felt like a lead weight though. There was a dull, persistent throb in the base of his skull, and he could feel the tension in the muscles of his neck, like the weight of the world rested there. He couldn't escape it, no matter how far he drove, how many monster sons' of bitches he ganked.
He stared out at the road. His eyes dry as he fought the urge to close them. He fought his traitorous body's urge to just give up, to lie down and never get up again. It was all too much for one man to carry, but he would never lay his load down, he couldn't. Too much was at stake.
He sighed, wondering where Castiel was again. As if on cue, his phone buzzed on the seat beside him. He glanced over to see Cas' name glowing on the screen. He fumbled for the phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. He picked it up on the third ring.
"Cas?'
"Dean, where are you?"
The angel never really was one for preamble.
"Minnesota, on route 14, somewhere between Rochester and Owatonna," Dean answered, the other end of the line going dead as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
The angel appeared in the seat next to him a moment later. He wished he had a GPS that was as directionally talented as Castiel.
"You're not going back to Bobby's?" Castiel asked in lieu of a greeting.
Dean pointed to some maps and news reports on the dash. "Picked up some possible demonic omens."
Castiel idly leafed through the papers. He glanced back at Dean, "You're going alone?"
Dean just shrugged in answer. Obviously he was going alone.
"You could have called."
Dean didn't answer that either. Yeah he could have, but the angel had just as many troubles as Dean did, and he figured Bobby was busy following up leads of his own, and he really hadn't wanted to listen to another grumpy lecture, and Sam, well Sam was better off wherever he was.
Castiel was staring at him in silence.
"Did you want anything?" Dean asked, wondering what had brought the angel here.
"No."
"No?"
Castiel continued to look at him, their last conversation hanging in the air between them. "I thought you could..." he paused looking for the right term, "use some company."
How on earth the angel, who got confused by even the most obvious pop-culture reference, was able to read Dean so well confounded him. He fidgeted in his seat under the angel's gaze, the moment becoming uncomfortably close to something emotional.
"Well there won't be any whore houses on this trip."
"Probably for the best," Castiel said as he looked out the windshield, seeming to settle in for the road trip.
Dean couldn't help but smirk. Castiel could willingly face down the host of Heaven and the apocalypse, but as long as another attempt at debauchery wasn't on the cards, he was ok with it.
Dean felt a surge of wakefulness as his senses seemed to come back to life. He would never ask, but he wondered if Castiel was sending some angel mojo his way. As much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful, for the mojo and the company. Castiel looked back at him, with that slight tilt to his lips that could almost be called a smile. Dean felt his smile widen in response. Whatever Castiel was doing, it probably wouldn't last, but for the moment the road ahead didn't seem so bleak.
..................................
They pulled into Shakopee somewhere around midnight. Castiel had been able to accurately pinpoint the omens to a two block radius, at the middle of which was an empty warehouse complex. Dean was positively overjoyed that he didn't have to spend half the night wandering around the city trying to narrow his search down.
Dean was getting weapons and ammo out of the trunk when he noticed Castiel staring at the building with a frown.
"What is it?"
"The whole building is warded, I can't go in."
"Looks like I'm going in alone after all then." Dean said as he slammed the trunk shut.
"Dean."
"I'll be fine. I'll just have a look around, if I find any demons I'll come back out see if we can break these wards so you can help." Castiel didn't look convinced. "You're concern's touching, really," Dean said, clapping the angel on the shoulder as he walked past.
He paused for a moment before opening the door. Wishing like hell that he had the angel by his side, though part of him was glad that Castiel wouldn't be able to put himself in harm's way to protect him. He pulled the door open and went inside before Castiel could say anything more.
Dean crept through the building, waiting for some random demon to jump out of the shadows. Nothing did though. He looked through every room, but the building was empty. Whatever the demons had been doing here, they seemed to be gone now. The only thing he found was an old book, written in a strange language he couldn't decipher.
Half an hour later he came back outside. Castiel was still standing in exactly the same spot, shoulders rigid as he stood vigil, no doubt making sure that nothing could enter the building behind Dean's back. It was strangely comforting.
"Building’s empty," he said to Castiel, tossing the book to him.
Castiel looked at it with distaste.
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"It belongs to a demon. It's very old, these symbols are familiar," Castiel replied as he leafed through the pages.
Dean leant against the hood of the Impala watching Castiel read the book. The adrenaline was wearing off, his back ached and his head was throbbing again. His body was so tired he could barely hold himself upright. He stared bleary eyed at Castiel, idly wondering what it would be like never to have to sleep.
Castiel looked over at Dean. He pocketed the book in his trench coat and walked over to the car. Dean wearily hefted himself off the hood and slumped into the driver's seat. His fingers were numb and he could barley turn the key.
"I saw a motel a couple blocks back. Whatever was going on here we missed it," Dean said, so tired he barely got the words out.
Castiel nodded as he looked Dean over. Dean figured he probably looked like shit, he certainly felt like it.
"I'll see if I can find anything out about the book," Castiel said.
Dean grunted in reply. No matter how much he may want to fight it, he had to sleep, at least for a few hours. He pulled up in front of the motel, he expected Castiel to leave, but the angel just waited by the car while Dean checked in.
Dean unlocked the door. He dumped his bag on the floor and scarcely managed to pull his boots off before he slumped on the bed. Castiel followed him inside, he stood looking around the dark motel room like he was looking for any dangers hiding in the shadows, which he probably was.
Dean lay on the bed in the dark. His eyes so tired they hurt, but they stubbornly stayed open. He watched Castiel in the dark. When Castiel seemed satisfied that nothing lurked in the room that could harm them, he settled on the foot of the bed next to Dean's feet. Castiel’s shoulders slightly slumped, though his back remained straight, a soldier on alert.
Dean thought he should probably protest the angel's lack of spatial awareness, there was after all a perfectly good chair at a more socially acceptable distance from his bed, but he really couldn't be bothered. Actually more than that, he appreciated the closeness.
He could feel the shift in the bed as it slumped from Castiel's weight, his feet bumped slightly against the angel's back. He thought he felt a strange heat in his toes from the contact that travelled up his legs, lulling him into an odd sense of calm.
The sound of traffic seemed distant, the motel room unusually quiet. Castiel sat perfectly still, with obviously no intention of leaving. Dean smiled, too tired to bluster away the feeling of peace he felt with Castiel by his side.
He felt the tug of sleep pulling at his consciousness. For once he didn't fight it. All his worries and fears of staying still for a moment drifted away. Castiel would stay the night, watching over him. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt Castiel reach out a hand and lay it on his shin. He could feel the warmth of his hand through the denim of his jeans. Somehow he knew that there would be no nightmares tonight, no flashes of hell or the world boiling in blood because he had failed.
He wished he knew how to say thank you, for staying, for everything. Lucifer and Michael were still out there, waiting to end the world, but tonight, tonight was just a weary hunter catching whatever sleep he could, while the angel he called his friend sat by him, sending whatever comfort he could through the touch of his hand.
It was enough, for now.
...................
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 5.03 (set between 5.03 and 5.04)
Characters: pre Dean/Castiel,
Word Count: 2,100
Summary: Dean was about as tired as he’d ever been, and that was saying something. Bone-deep, not caring if he lived or died, sick with sleeplessness tired. He didn't know what he wanted or needed until it was there...
A/N: written for the hoodie_time's writing between the lines challange for This Prompt. Thanks as always to my wonderful beta pyjamagurl
Dean was about as tired as he’d ever been, and that was saying something. Bone-deep, not caring if he lived or died, sick with sleeplessness tired. He had been driving for two days, the empty seat beside him haunting him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, fighting the urge to stare across at the void beside him. As much as he tried to ignore it though, it was eating him up. The emptiness seemed to swallow the entire world, so that all that was left was the black nothingness of the road stretching ahead.
He reached out and irritably turned off the radio, sick of the late night easy listening. The silence seemed preferable, comforting. He wrapped himself up in it, and tried to fill the hole inside of him with it.
He could have been in Sioux Falls earlier that night, but had picked up some demon omens in Minnesota. He would call Bobby in the morning to let him know where he was. Frankly he was avoiding Bobby. He had given up trying to get Dean and Sam talking again, but Dean knew Bobby still thought the brothers going their separate ways was a bad idea. Dean was still stubbornly clinging to the idea that apart they reduced the risks.
He had tried to convince Castiel on the way out of Maine that he was happy alone. Happier than he had been in years. He could see in the angel's eyes that Castiel hadn't believed him. Dean wasn't surprised, as much as he wanted to believe it, the words had sounded hollow even to him. When the angel had disappeared he tried to convince himself that that was ok too.
The fact was, the angel's presence for those couple of days in Maine had been a lifeline. Dammed if he was going to call Castiel and ask him to join him again though, his Winchester stubbornness wouldn't allow him to.
The memory of Castiel's uncertain smile and mussed up appearance drifted in his thoughts. He wondered how on earth, he of all people had come to rely so much on an angel. His thoughts shied away from the loyalty Castiel had given him, of the sacrifice beyond his understanding that the angel had made, simply because Dean asked him to. He couldn't comprehend someone doing that for him, least of all an irritable, bigger picture kinda being like Castiel.
Dean gripped the wheel tighter, and tried to blink the hazy blur of the road back into focus, gritting his teeth against the direction of his thoughts. He stubbornly tried to push aside the bone deep weariness urging him to pull over as well.
He had hardly slept for the last week, nothing more than a few hours here and there. The moment he stopped moving his thoughts kicked into overdrive. Wondering where Sammy was, wondering how on earth they were going to stop the world's headlong dash to ruination. Wondering where Castiel was, and why he kept putting himself on the firing line for him.
As long as he kept moving, he could hold the growing pit of dread inside of him at bay. If he stopped for a moments rest, he thought it would swallow him, and he would never be able to move again.
His body felt like a lead weight though. There was a dull, persistent throb in the base of his skull, and he could feel the tension in the muscles of his neck, like the weight of the world rested there. He couldn't escape it, no matter how far he drove, how many monster sons' of bitches he ganked.
He stared out at the road. His eyes dry as he fought the urge to close them. He fought his traitorous body's urge to just give up, to lie down and never get up again. It was all too much for one man to carry, but he would never lay his load down, he couldn't. Too much was at stake.
He sighed, wondering where Castiel was again. As if on cue, his phone buzzed on the seat beside him. He glanced over to see Cas' name glowing on the screen. He fumbled for the phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. He picked it up on the third ring.
"Cas?'
"Dean, where are you?"
The angel never really was one for preamble.
"Minnesota, on route 14, somewhere between Rochester and Owatonna," Dean answered, the other end of the line going dead as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
The angel appeared in the seat next to him a moment later. He wished he had a GPS that was as directionally talented as Castiel.
"You're not going back to Bobby's?" Castiel asked in lieu of a greeting.
Dean pointed to some maps and news reports on the dash. "Picked up some possible demonic omens."
Castiel idly leafed through the papers. He glanced back at Dean, "You're going alone?"
Dean just shrugged in answer. Obviously he was going alone.
"You could have called."
Dean didn't answer that either. Yeah he could have, but the angel had just as many troubles as Dean did, and he figured Bobby was busy following up leads of his own, and he really hadn't wanted to listen to another grumpy lecture, and Sam, well Sam was better off wherever he was.
Castiel was staring at him in silence.
"Did you want anything?" Dean asked, wondering what had brought the angel here.
"No."
"No?"
Castiel continued to look at him, their last conversation hanging in the air between them. "I thought you could..." he paused looking for the right term, "use some company."
How on earth the angel, who got confused by even the most obvious pop-culture reference, was able to read Dean so well confounded him. He fidgeted in his seat under the angel's gaze, the moment becoming uncomfortably close to something emotional.
"Well there won't be any whore houses on this trip."
"Probably for the best," Castiel said as he looked out the windshield, seeming to settle in for the road trip.
Dean couldn't help but smirk. Castiel could willingly face down the host of Heaven and the apocalypse, but as long as another attempt at debauchery wasn't on the cards, he was ok with it.
Dean felt a surge of wakefulness as his senses seemed to come back to life. He would never ask, but he wondered if Castiel was sending some angel mojo his way. As much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful, for the mojo and the company. Castiel looked back at him, with that slight tilt to his lips that could almost be called a smile. Dean felt his smile widen in response. Whatever Castiel was doing, it probably wouldn't last, but for the moment the road ahead didn't seem so bleak.
..................................
They pulled into Shakopee somewhere around midnight. Castiel had been able to accurately pinpoint the omens to a two block radius, at the middle of which was an empty warehouse complex. Dean was positively overjoyed that he didn't have to spend half the night wandering around the city trying to narrow his search down.
Dean was getting weapons and ammo out of the trunk when he noticed Castiel staring at the building with a frown.
"What is it?"
"The whole building is warded, I can't go in."
"Looks like I'm going in alone after all then." Dean said as he slammed the trunk shut.
"Dean."
"I'll be fine. I'll just have a look around, if I find any demons I'll come back out see if we can break these wards so you can help." Castiel didn't look convinced. "You're concern's touching, really," Dean said, clapping the angel on the shoulder as he walked past.
He paused for a moment before opening the door. Wishing like hell that he had the angel by his side, though part of him was glad that Castiel wouldn't be able to put himself in harm's way to protect him. He pulled the door open and went inside before Castiel could say anything more.
Dean crept through the building, waiting for some random demon to jump out of the shadows. Nothing did though. He looked through every room, but the building was empty. Whatever the demons had been doing here, they seemed to be gone now. The only thing he found was an old book, written in a strange language he couldn't decipher.
Half an hour later he came back outside. Castiel was still standing in exactly the same spot, shoulders rigid as he stood vigil, no doubt making sure that nothing could enter the building behind Dean's back. It was strangely comforting.
"Building’s empty," he said to Castiel, tossing the book to him.
Castiel looked at it with distaste.
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"It belongs to a demon. It's very old, these symbols are familiar," Castiel replied as he leafed through the pages.
Dean leant against the hood of the Impala watching Castiel read the book. The adrenaline was wearing off, his back ached and his head was throbbing again. His body was so tired he could barely hold himself upright. He stared bleary eyed at Castiel, idly wondering what it would be like never to have to sleep.
Castiel looked over at Dean. He pocketed the book in his trench coat and walked over to the car. Dean wearily hefted himself off the hood and slumped into the driver's seat. His fingers were numb and he could barley turn the key.
"I saw a motel a couple blocks back. Whatever was going on here we missed it," Dean said, so tired he barely got the words out.
Castiel nodded as he looked Dean over. Dean figured he probably looked like shit, he certainly felt like it.
"I'll see if I can find anything out about the book," Castiel said.
Dean grunted in reply. No matter how much he may want to fight it, he had to sleep, at least for a few hours. He pulled up in front of the motel, he expected Castiel to leave, but the angel just waited by the car while Dean checked in.
Dean unlocked the door. He dumped his bag on the floor and scarcely managed to pull his boots off before he slumped on the bed. Castiel followed him inside, he stood looking around the dark motel room like he was looking for any dangers hiding in the shadows, which he probably was.
Dean lay on the bed in the dark. His eyes so tired they hurt, but they stubbornly stayed open. He watched Castiel in the dark. When Castiel seemed satisfied that nothing lurked in the room that could harm them, he settled on the foot of the bed next to Dean's feet. Castiel’s shoulders slightly slumped, though his back remained straight, a soldier on alert.
Dean thought he should probably protest the angel's lack of spatial awareness, there was after all a perfectly good chair at a more socially acceptable distance from his bed, but he really couldn't be bothered. Actually more than that, he appreciated the closeness.
He could feel the shift in the bed as it slumped from Castiel's weight, his feet bumped slightly against the angel's back. He thought he felt a strange heat in his toes from the contact that travelled up his legs, lulling him into an odd sense of calm.
The sound of traffic seemed distant, the motel room unusually quiet. Castiel sat perfectly still, with obviously no intention of leaving. Dean smiled, too tired to bluster away the feeling of peace he felt with Castiel by his side.
He felt the tug of sleep pulling at his consciousness. For once he didn't fight it. All his worries and fears of staying still for a moment drifted away. Castiel would stay the night, watching over him. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt Castiel reach out a hand and lay it on his shin. He could feel the warmth of his hand through the denim of his jeans. Somehow he knew that there would be no nightmares tonight, no flashes of hell or the world boiling in blood because he had failed.
He wished he knew how to say thank you, for staying, for everything. Lucifer and Michael were still out there, waiting to end the world, but tonight, tonight was just a weary hunter catching whatever sleep he could, while the angel he called his friend sat by him, sending whatever comfort he could through the touch of his hand.
It was enough, for now.
...................