Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Castiel/Dean. One-shot. Dean's having some new dreams about a certain angel. Not what you're thinking! Rather fluffy-ish.
Word Count: 1,877
Day 07 of "22 new fandoms in 22 days."
Story note: Yeah, another Supernatural fic.
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
"Dean," Castiel called out, his voice a mere whisper. The young Winchester looked up from his spot by Sammy's crib regardless. "Let him sleep."
"Cas," Dean replied as exasperatedly as the five year old could manage, "I know." After checking one more time on his brother, he stepped away from the crib. Approaching Castiel who was standing in the corner, he lifted his arms up in a motion to be lifted.
The angel didn't hesitate to lift him up. "Let's get you to bed, too."
"I'm not tired," Dean whined, even as he yawned. He wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck and snuggled closer.
Castiel kissed him on the forehead, his voice low. "Alright, we'll just put you in bed and see what happens."
Dean gasped awake, his body stilling as he opened his eyes slowly. Listening closely, he could hear no one else in the room with him. Sam was gone again, but Dean really hadn't expected any change in the pattern they'd somehow fallen into.
Rolling onto his back, he let out a harsh exhale. As far as dreams went, he would have to admit the ones that he'd been having lately were certainly better than the memories of hell, but that didn't make them any less disconcerting. Ever since his impromptu trip back in time, he'd been having weird dreams involving one particular angel. He didn't know what to make of it. It wouldn't be that surprising if he were to find out that he was going insane. He'd rather thought he'd go down some other way though; insanity seemed rather dull considering he'd already been torn apart by hellhounds. Then again, everything paled in comparison to that.
The first time he had a dream about himself and the angel, he'd chalked it up to his subconscious. After all, the angel showed up at random times; it wouldn't be the first time that he'd visited in a dream. He hadn't been standing in Bobby's kitchen though, and in fact, he'd been about nine at the time, but still, it had only been a dream.
The second time it happened, he ignored the fact that he remembered it in stunning detail when he woke up the next day. His dreams normally faded when he woke up, but these just remained. It was like he'd had an HDTV installed for his dreams all of a sudden, and wasn't that a scary thought if that held true for his nightmares. However, his nightmares had been replaced by these dreams.
The next few times it happened, he wondered if someone were messing with his head. He found no sign of any foul play. Maybe it was remnants from his trip back in time or something. He even cut back on the alcohol just to see if anything would happen. Nothing changed. If anything the dreams became a little more persistent.
Most if not all of his attention had been focused on this mystery. He didn't bother telling Sammy about it because how exactly would he explain that after he'd gone back in time, without even a DeLorean, he'd been having these chick flick dreams about his own personal guardian angel following him through life. Well, from what he could tell from the age jumps, it seemed that Cas had been more present when he'd been younger and had only shown up at random moments as he aged. That was beside the point though. The point was that the angel was there at all.
And after an inordinate amount of research that he'd done – any research he did was an inordinate amount, he'd come to the conclusion that it had to be Castiel's fault. Angel boogie was definitely not cool.
So, he was rather pleased when said angel finally made an appearance. He was ready for a confrontation and answers.
Pushing himself out of the bed, Dean stood up and glared at him. "What is this?"
Castiel only stood there, expression as neutral as it always was. He tilted his head to the side in reply before asking, "What is what, Dean?" He looked at Dean a moment before scanning the room as though what he was talking about was somewhere around them.
"These dreams," Dean rolled his eyes.
"Dreams?" Castiel parroted, blue eyes once again focusing completely on Dean, in a way that suddenly felt all too familiar.
Dean narrowed his eyes against that particular reaction. There was something about the angel that was wrong; he just couldn't place his finger on what it was. "Stop repeating what I say." He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to look away so that he could concentrate on the matter at hand. "Just give me a straight answer. What are the dreams?" He looked back and wasn't as unnerved by that fixed stare as he'd been in the past. Pushing that thought aside, he continued, "Some mumbo jumbo alternate reality? Because I know I would've remembered you the first time around."
"Are they bad memories?" Castiel asked instead.
Pausing to think about the answer, Dean said, "No." Shaking his head, he quickly added, "But that's not the point. I…"
For a moment, he didn't know what the point was. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mind felt like it was bombarded with memories. He remembered his mother telling him that angels were watching, remembered how excited he'd been when Castiel had finally appeared. He remembered having to keep it a secret because angels were supposed to be something personal, and Dean hadn't cared. He'd been excited by the mere thought that he had his own personal angel. He could distinctly remember what it felt like to have Castiel near, his presence soothing even as everything went to hell. Remembered what it felt like to be lifted up and carried, remembered Castiel singing him to sleep. He remembered his anger when the angel stopped appearing as much and anger from not stopping bad things from happening. He remembered that anger fading into something like relief as Castiel smiled that sad smile at him and told him there was no other way, but that he was always watching, always there for him.
And God, his mind was all fucked up now. Dean shook his head. The point was that someone had screwed with him, and he was Dean Winchester – no one screwed with him.
"Are you alright?" Castiel tentatively reached out a hand to place on his shoulder.
The warmth that seeped into his arm was too familiar. Dean shrugged but didn't shrug him off even when he knew that would be the proper response before.
"The dreams…" Dean forced himself to meet Castiel in the eyes, even as the angel from his dreams seemed to overlap. He'd even used the same vessel. "They're memories?"
Castiel nodded mutely, paying close attention to Dean's reaction.
Dean wasn't sure what he felt. Mostly there was confusion. He'd apparently already gone through all those stronger emotions that dealt with having an angel by his side. He wasn't angry now because he'd already been angry with Castiel about his mom's death, about his father's death, about Sam's death, and the injuries and suffering he'd had to endure. He'd been angry that the angel had been correct about the fact that he'd be able to grow stronger and come out of it a better person.
He wasn't angry anymore – well, not about those things. He was more than a little angry that Castiel had messed with his past at all. Instead of confronting him directly though, Dean clucked his tongue and said with mock disappointment, "You didn't change much of anything."
If Castiel shrugged, Dean was sure he would've but instead the angel simply stood there. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him. He made a quick visual check: same eyes, same five o'clock shadow, same stance, and hell, he even had the same clothes.
Realizing that the angel really wasn't going to offer any information, he asked the obvious questions, "Why didn't you do more? Why couldn't I remember?"
It took a while before Castiel replied, "I only revisited after your visit."
So Dean was justifiably exasperated with that meager response. "So?"
Dean scoffed. Everything was complicated. It wouldn't be complicated if angels weren't time-travelling jerks. "I thought you said that I couldn't have changed anything. What about all that crap about destiny and fate and shit?"
With more patience than Dean actually thought the angel had, Castiel only let out a small sigh. "I didn't change anything. You know that."
Looking away before Castiel could pin him with his gaze again, Dean had to admit he did know that. He wouldn't say that aloud though. Instead, he sarcastically replied, "And what did you do, save me from booboos. Protect my life with lullabies."
The angel only looked at him, no change in his expression.
Using the moment of silence after his comment, Dean searched his memory and those dreams that were so obviously more than dreams now that he thought of it. Nothing. Castiel had actually done nothing. That's what was frustrating. What good was a time-travelling angel when he didn't change anything? Why couldn't he have saved his mother or his father or stopped him before he made the deal with the crossroads demon? Fate was shit, and the angel really hadn't done a thing for him.
The only thing new in his memory was Castiel's presence in some spaces that had once been blank. Random nights that he was certain would have been lost completely had the angel not been there. A kiss goodnight on his forehead. The warm hand that held his own. The naps they spent with Sammy while their father had been gone. A Christmas present. That stern gaze when he acted poorly. The shoulder he'd fall asleep on. The body he'd hurt when he couldn't do anything else to relieve some of the tension he felt from a life that had threatened to consume him.
Castiel entered his personal space and Dean didn't react again, not like he knew he should've.
"I changed enough for you to trust me," Castiel pointed out and smiled.
Dean glared even as he realized what had been wrong with his angel in the first place. The expression had been all wrong. Castiel smiled, that smile that had always put him at ease and actually made him relax a bit. There was comfort in his presence that hadn't been there before, like the distance between them had suddenly vanished.
His angel kissed him on the forehead and it felt so natural that Dean was a little annoyed. He was also dissatisfied. He wasn't some kid anymore, and he wanted more, more than what Cas had ever offered. It should've surprised him, but some time in his changed past, he already knew that he'd wanted Cas more than anyone else. He wanted his attention, his touch, and he dreamt of more. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Dean scrutinized his angel before smirking.
"If you wanted to get laid, you could've just asked."
At his confused expression, Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of Cas's head to pull him in for a real kiss.
Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Lesson learned? Beware time travelling angels, they tend to have their own agendas.