Can you imagine how horrifying nightmares would be for a newly human Castiel, though? Waking up to suddenly find himself in bed, totally drenched in sweat, his heart racing as his fight-or-flight instinct pushes at his chest, urging his limbs to run get out get safe run. He’s confused and terrified and trying to understand what just happened but his skin prickles all over and he thinks, briefly, no, that wasn’t a nightmare, that was too real to be a nightmare, before bolting to Dean’s room.
Dean, who is laying in bed, asleep and alive and completely safe.
But Cas can’t—he has to be sure, so he crawls onto the memory foam and shakes the other, sniffling and crying and so fucking relieved when Dean jerks awake, alarmed.
He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s instinct, to wrap his arms around Dean and hold him. To whisper: you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay until his crying has him only able to gasp for air.
To pull away and kiss him, because thank god.
Dean holds him tight, and listens to him. He kisses him back with everything he is, cupping Castiel’s face and thumbing wetness from his cheeks as he whispers words of his own: I’ve got you, Cas. You’re here, we’re safe, I’ve got you.
And I will never let you go.