#caswinchseter

"I thought you said you were sleeping," Castiel observes, gravitating toward the bed. Dean peeked open one eye at him.

"So, you thought you'd invite yourself in?"

Castiel considers this. It wouldn't be the first time he'd watched Dean sleep, but that certainly wasn't his intention on following him back here. "I got the impression you didn't really want to be alone."

"Real perceptive, Cas," Dean said tiredly, swiping a hand down his face. "What tipped you off? Was it when I said I wanted to be alone?"

Castiel blinks. "Yes, that was indicative. You rarely say what you want."

Dean really looks at him then. The bruises on his face stand out against his pale skin, looking swollen and angry. That anger was all over Dean's skin, bleeding from his eyes and lips. He sighs.

"Yeah, well. Take a seat, then." He gestures at the arm chair in the corner, but Castiel bypasses it to sit next to Dean on the bed. 

Dean chuckles, maybe even with a good measure of humor. "Well, all right." 

"Dean," Castiel begins, "you did a great thing today." When Dean opens his mouth to protest, Castiel barrels through. "Not a good thing, a great thing. Immeasurably large." 

The quiet is heavy, unbearable. 

"You have set yourself down a path," Castiel goes on. "I implore you to remember that you don't have to face anything alone."

"Not yet," Dean mumbles with a certainty that makes Castiel shift closer to him. He misses his own Grace, the Grace with which he was able to see the deepest etchings of Dean's soul. Though he never was able to understand Dean's actions, not entirely, he misses the comforting, ethereal warmth of Dean's intentions.

He rests a hand on Dean's knee. "We are looking out for you."

He thumbs across one of the bruises under Dean's eye. "We will never leave you alone."

Dean's lips twitch up, like he's going to argue, like he's going to make a joke, but the expression falls more quickly than it appeared.

When Castiel stands to leave, having said his piece, he jerks back downward unexpectedly. Dean's fist had curled into the tail of his coat, anchoring him to the bed. 

"I have to sleep," he says to the floor, and Castiel furrows his brow. Dean does not look at him. He doesn't say it, but the request hangs between them. So, Castiel stays a little longer.