Drabble Dean/Castiel
He had a nightmare. Again. It was intoxicating and frustrating. His heart clenched as a particularly awful memory flashed and the bloody visions were devastating him little by little. So when it came unexpectedly, he welcomed the sacred warmth offered by those arms. He knew who they belonged to, but he didn’t care. He hasn’t had much sleep lately, the nightmares making it impossible to have a restful night. So he took it, the peace of mind he forgot he could have. He leaned in the protective arms that were shielding him from the attacks of Hell. He accepted the soft kiss to his head as the final blessing to his healing.
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The angel could not bear the suffering of the human before him. He did like him. He did not know why or how, but he felt strongly for Dean Winchester. Angels are not supposed to feel, not that deeply anyway, but he did. He felt the pain, the guilt, the self-hatred all at once like Dean did and he did not wish this upon his worst enemy. He climbed into bed next to the human and slid his arms around him, hoping that this would help him find salvation. It did and for that he thanked his Father.
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The piercing light woke him up and he met the surprised expression on his brother’s face. He felt something hot on his cheeks and as he touched his face he hound his finger tips were wet. Those were tears. He had wept through the night. The angel did this and somehow, he was grateful. He could not help the slight smile as he thought about his beautiful blue eyes, ignoring the stare his brother was giving him.
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The light might have had a lot to do with it, but he could swear Dean’s eyes ere shining, literally. And so were the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. It amazed him and yet it worried him. The angel did this. He didn’t know what made him draw this conclusion but he felt it. The angel did this. To his brother. What pained him even more was that whatever it is Castiel did, he achieved what he could not: Dean seemed peaceful, almost happy.