While You Sleep, Lover
A 'Supernatural' Fanfic
Castiel was beautiful when she slept. Hell, he was beautiful all the time. But he was different when he slept. Relaxed. Not so tightly wound. The angel was a bundle of intensity when awake.
Angels weren't supposed to sleep. But since Castiel had been cut off from Heaven's power, he had every now and again needed to recharge. The first time it had happened, he had appeared in the Winchesters' motel room, as usual without warning, and promptly collapsed, unconscious. Dean remembered how his heart had froze in terror before they realized he was merely sleeping. His first thought was that Cas had been the victim of a demon attack, but there had been no wounds, no blood, no physical sign of distress.
Still, it was very rare that Castiel slept for more than an hour or two. Apparently the events of the last few weeks had worn him out. Well, Dean HAD done his fair share on that front. He grinned wolfishly at the memory of the night before.
Dean was amazed at what the angel could still do to him. Dean typically tired quickly of his little trysts, discarding lovers almost as quickly as he acquired them. Of course, Dean could never have been completely honest with the various co-eds he picked up in bars. His life was one that required secrets and no small amount of sacrifices. Dean had not even realized how much he longed for a soul-deep love until Cas had flown into his life. Not that Dean would ever admit that to anyone but the angel.
With one look, Castiel could completely undo the hunter. Dean would find himself rooted in place, unable to move, completely entranced by those bottomless blue eyes. Dean was utterly baffled as to how the angel could convey so much emotion, so much intensity in his eyes while keeping his face completely stoic, almost blank, showing so much yet concealing a vast amount at the same time.
Cas wasn't much of a smiler, in general. He had his moments of course. Soft, quiet little smiles that barely fluttered across his lips. Saved for Dean's eyes only. But when he slept, his barriers melted away. All the tension he carried in his body, the fierce dedication to the mission and to Dean, all his stoic reservation. He looked his most angelic when he slept. They were rarely at peace these days.
Castiel made a soft, almost inaudible sigh. Dean propped himself up on one elbow to gaze at the sleeping angel. A smile played on those perfect, too-pink lips, proof that whatever he was dreaming of was of the pleasant variety.
Dean ran his thumb along his lover's unshaven law, relishing the soft prickle of dark stubble against sensitive flesh. Castiel's eyelids fluttered. He sighed again and seemed to lean ever so slightly into the hunter's touch. He was just so ….. perfect. There was simply no other way to describe it. Dean didn't know what he had ever done to deserve Castiel. After everything he'd done, how could an angel – a being so beautiful, so pure – look at him with anything but revulsion?
No one on earth could ever truly comprehend the suffering Dean had endured in Hell, the unspeakable things Alistair had done to him. No one could possibly understand the atrocities Dean had committed when he finally broke and took the demon's deal. When he got off that rack and started torturing souls. No human, anyway. No human had been where he'd been, seen what he'd seen, done what he's done. And returned topside unchanged. Well, that last bit wasn't entirely true. Dean may not have been in Hell long enough to fully turn demon, but it was impossible to remain unchanged. Dean had returned to life darker, more broken than before, if that was possible. He carried a little bit of Hell with him, every day.
Why Castiel would give himself, body and soul, to someone so worthless, Dean would never understand. He knew he didn't deserve it, but Dean was grateful for every second he was allowed to bask in Castiel's light. The angel gave his healing love so freely, so utterly convinced that Dean was a good man, a hero. Cas had told him many times, over and over, that he deserved to be saved, that he would be forgiven. That he understood all that Dean had done, and he still loved him. That Dean still deserved that love. His earnestness could be very convincing.
When Dean was in the angel's presence, he felt the forgiveness Castiel offered him. The ever-present guilt slipped away, and he could be a human being, instead of just a hunter. When he was with his lover, Dean felt the closest thing to peace that he had in a long, long time. Since before Hell, even. He still often felt that he didn't deserve it, that he was wrong to let the angel love him, that he could only corrupt him. That their love was a heinous sin, a blasphemy. But then Cas would give him one of his secret little smiles, and Dean would melt, all doubt disappearing under the radiance of the angel's love.
Castiel sighed in his sleep again and snuggled closer to the hunter. Dean wrapped his arm him, pulling his lover to him and placing a soft kiss on his angel's shoulder blade. Dean didn't know what would come of all this. But he would try to validate the angel's faith in him. Dear God, he would try.
"I love you, Cas," he whispered into the sleeping angel's ear. Outside the tiny motel room, hellfire rained and the world slipped slowly closer to The End. Inside the temporary safe haven they had found for the night, Dean Winchester finally drifted off into much-need sleep, cradling the form of the most precious thing in his life.