donât wanna fall asleep without you
word count: 1,381 (continued under the read more), also posted on ao3
A day and a half after Cas has been rescued from the Empty, he realizes he needs sleep. But that⊠well, itâs easier said than done.
Even though his body is exhausted, a fatigue that makes Cas feel dizzy with its potency, every time he tries to fall asleep, his brain is flooded with the Empty; wrapping around him and pulling him down down down into darkness, into pain, into cold loneliness and complete despair.
He tries to fight through it. Tries to dig his fingers into the warm bed sheets of his bed and feel the soft pillow cushioning his head. But the comforts are short lived. It isnât enough to fight the creeping inky blackness as it swallows Cas whole again and again.
So instead, he forces himself to wander around the Bunker until the exhaustion is unbearable; until he collapses and falls asleep leaning against the jukebox in Deanâs cave or curled up in the hallway outside of Deanâs room or in the garage with his head against the drivers door of the Impala.
He wasnât aware of it at the time. How he finds spaces that are etched by Deanâs presence or his energy. How, even in his fatigued conscience, he gravitates towards Deanâs essence.
And he shouldnât. He knows he shouldnât. If his brain wasnât so fuzzy, he would scream at himself to stop falling for this agonizing torment.
Dean doesnât love him back. Otherwise Dean wouldâve said something when he rescued him⊠wouldnât he? But he didnât; he just kept touching Casâ shoulder and repeating that Cas was home home home. And Cas can live with that. He can. He told Dean his truth, and everything else is out of his control.
Thatâs the hardest part though. Accepting that he isnât an Angel like he used to be. He canât control fate and choices and destiny like he used to. Or maybe he never could. Maybe it was all Chuck. Not that it matters anymore. Not that his tired brain can process it anyway; his sleep-addled brain is unreliable and makes decisions he wouldnât make if he were more awake.
Especially because itâs late, and now itâs a week after his escape from the Empty, and heâs leaning against Deanâs chair in the Dean cave, and now heâs seeing Dean crouching down in front of him and, oh, what a beautiful mirage he is, and oh, Casâ heart clenches in his chest because Dean is beautiful and God, Cas wants him and he loves him and itâs too much too much too much.
The words sound unreal in Casâ ear. âCâmon Angel. Let me take care of you.â
And that canât be real. Because heâs not an Angel anymore. Or maybe he is and maybe he isnât. Some powers remain and some have been sucked away by the tendrils of the Empty.
But the hands on his skin feel warm and tender as his body is floating up up up and then thereâs a guided walk to his room and a hand slowly helping him into bed as sheets are tucked softly and carefully under his chin.
âIâve got you,â lingers in the air, and Cas canât tell if the words are spinning in his head, fabricated by his own desires, or if they were ever even spoken aloud at all.
A soft brush of lips to his forehead, a hand resting against his shoulder, and a weight lingers on the other side of the bed. âSleep, Cas. Youâre safe. Iâm not letting anything happen to you ever again.â
Cas finally allows sleep to lap at his subconscious until heâs lulled into peace.
When his eyes flutter open again, the room is quiet. Thereâs no presence by his side. Heâs in his own bed with the sheets tucked around him. He canât remember how he got here; if he fell asleep in his bed all along, or if, in his weary state, he managed to stumble his way back to his own room before passing out. But thereâs no Dean perched at the end of his bed. Just a mirage invented by his exhausted brain. It aches so deeply in Casâ chest that he doesnât know how to cope. It feels like itâs cracking his ribs apart and tearing his heart from his chest.
Cas vows never to sleep again.
