Blood and Angels (a destiel fanfic)

1 - dark dreams

I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. Dean. The hunter had just woken, and he was afraid. The clock on the nightstand read 1:05. It was scarcely past midnight. Another nightmare.

I stood silently and walked down the hall, stopping outside Dean's door and listening. I heard the hunter curse under his breath for a little while. Finally Dean began to move around. The door to his bathroom opened. A faucet squeaked, and the shower churned on, steaming hot - the way Dean liked it.

The nightmares came almost every night. I never interfered; Dean preferred to deal with his issues on his own, but I listened anyway. Someone needed to make sure that Dean was safe.

• • •

Dawn came, and I got up to prepare breakfast before the brothers woke. The bunker was quiet. The kitchen's light was the only one on.

Sam was the first to walk out, his hair still messy from sleep as he rubbed his eyes. "Cas? Morning."

"Good morning, Sam."

I slid a plate across the counter towards him. It was a simple breakfast. An omelette with parsley sprinkled on top. "Smells amazing," said Sam. "Where's Dean?"

"In bed." Dean always slept in. We didn't mind.

The morning passed peacefully. Sam and I talked, laughing under our breath every now and then but being careful not to make too much noise. I cooked another omelette. Dean would be hungry when he came out.

I could sense that Dean had never fallen back asleep after his bad dream. He was awake even now, in fact. I didn't question his absence. Dean needed space.

Finally, Dean shuffled into the kitchen. Sam glanced over his shoulder, lowering the book he was reading for a moment. "Sleep well?"

I could see the falter in Dean's steps even if Sam couldn't. "Yeah. Fine."

I slid the second omelette over to Dean. The hunter smiled wearily, sitting down and reaching for the pepper. Everything needed more pepper, he always said. "And you, Cas?"

I hadn't slept. Not that I needed to, of course, but I liked to sometimes. It was relaxing. Like yoga. And birdwatching. "The weather was pleasant. Mostly cumulonimbus clouds. A bit of humidity." It had been a nice night.

"Sam? Any cases we should be looking into?"

Sam didn't look up from his book. "Hell no, Dean, we already talked about this."

"Sure we did," Dean said, "and we agreed we'd take a break. A break. Not retire."

"Absolutely not. We aren't hunting. Not anytime soon."

The past year's struggles with the release of the Darkness hadn't been easy on any of us. Particularly not Dean, who we had begun to realize had been damaged by the countless souls he'd taken into his vessel. They were gone now, but they'd left traces of themselves behind - like scratches on the walls of Dean's being. He was marked, inside.

Chuck and Amara were gone from our universe, but dark things had remained behind.

"Fuck you too, Sam," muttered Dean eventually. He stood up and went to the door. "I'm going out."

"Where?"

"To eat."

I stood. "I'll come."

"No you won't. You're just as much a part of this as Sammy is, you're staying here." He pointed meaningfully at me, then left and slammed the door behind him.

I wasn't certain how to react. Sam noticed. "Hey," he said gently, "don't let him get to you, he's just getting a little claustrophobic. He's not used to being cooped up - he needs to let his energy out sometimes."

I'd keep a closer watch on Dean. For his sanity and for mine.

• • •

I waited, but Dean never returned. Sam assured me he would. I didn't answer.

I went for a walk that evening. It was a quiet night; the sky was veiled and dim, and the road was lined with dead trees, their blackened branches reaching like scorched fingers. It was a night that I once would have loved to fly through - my wings slicing behind me, the wind stinging my face like ice as I swept between dimensions as swift as thought. Not anymore. My wings were crippled and stripped of their feathers, and I didn't dare attempt to fly.

I slipped my arms out of the sleeves of my trench coat and hugging it tightly like a blanket around me. The weather almost always opted towards humid and heavy, but tonight was different. A cold, silent wind blew, ruffling my hair and making my eyes water.

The moment was sharp, distinct. Timeless.

The crunch of wheels over gravel stirred me from my reverie. I didn't turn, but the bright glow of headlights beamed from behind me, casting my shadow before me like a long, unnatural specter. The car pulled to a stop a little ways ahead of me. I didn't have to look to know it was the Impala.

The driver's door kicked open. Dean climbed out and rushed towards me, not even bothering to shut it behind him. "Cas!"

"Hello, Dean."

"What the hell, man? Sam was worried sick, you didn't even tell him where you'd gone."

Sam. The little brother I'd never had and always wanted. "I took a walk." That wasn't unusual.

"It's late, Cas. You've been gone for hours."

I hadn't realized. But I did realize, then, that Dean was shivering. The wind had worsened, and he must have left in such a hurry that he forgot his coat. "You're cold."

"Cas, it doesn't matter."

I shrugged my trench coat off and wrapped it around him. He didn't try to argue. I walked back to the Impala with him, and we slid into our seats, closing the doors to the howling night outside.

"Cas, please don't run off like that without warning us again." Dean started the car. "You scared - you scared Sam, he was worried."

"I will apologize."

We drove in silence for a little while. I hadn't realized how far from the bunker I'd wandered. It was growing very dark.

"Dean," I said. "You went away too. We didn't know if you'd come back."

He shook his head. His eyes were tired. "I was at a bar, Cas, it's nothing I haven't done a thousand times before."

His hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. I saw bruises on his knuckles. He'd gotten into a fight. Maybe started one.

I didn't address it.

Back at the bunker, Sam was eating salad and watching a show. He looked up when we came in, his expression brightening. "Cas, you alright?"

He didn't seem particularly worried. "I was on a walk."

He nodded. Going on a walk, that was normal. Of course it was.

"Dean, you should drink a glass of water or you'll have a hangover in the morning."

He gave me a look. "I'll be fine, Cas."

"Very well."

I left the room. Dean didn't have anything to say, it seemed, and even though I did, perhaps it was better than I kept it to myself. Perhaps the Winchesters were right in their way of concealing their emotions.

I spent the night staring at the ceiling. I could sense Dean faintly in his room down the hall, tossing and turning before finally settling into a restless sleep. The nightmares would come soon.