"I'm dreaming," said Dean. The room around him was his, but the edges were slightly blurry to his pysche. Visually, it was perfection, but his brain sensed the dissonance. In fact, this may have been one of the most detailed dreams he'd ever had. Especially Cas. Every element looked authentic, and as Dean examined his eyes, he found himself confused.

"Yes, this is a dream, Dean," said Cas, characteristically calm.

"Cas, are you real? I mean, is it really you, not dream you?" Dean said, getting up from the bed and moving towards him. He felt a dizzying sensation as he walked. His movements slower and more deliberate than in the waking hours.

The angel slightly tilted his head to the side. "Of course," he said, his eyebrows scrunched as if this were a ridiculous question.

Dean shrugged, "Well, you never know. Dreams can be deceptive."

Cas took a few steps towards Dean. "Do you dream of me often?" he said, maintaining eye contact, his hair slightly messy, not unlike the first time the two of them had met.

"What—No, man, of course. . . Why the hell are you pulling a creepy sandman act on me anyway?" He deflected, shuffling from one foot to the next, putting his hands in his pockets. The room started to change as he said this, and he could feel himself becoming more conscious as the dream fog lifted.

"You're waking," said the angel. "I'll have to be quick." He leaned in, putting his hands on each of Dean's shoulders as if grounding him, leaning closer until his mouth was next to Dean's ear. The hunter tensed as he felt Cas's hot breath on his skin. The other man whispered soft, slow words into his ear, sending chills down the hunter's back as the air made contact. His dream delirium had slightly returned, and Dean struggled to process the words. They floated through him out of order, and out of context, falling like broken puzzle pieces into his brain.

"What?" asked Dean, still unable to decipher Cas's message. But, before he could interpret it, he felt himself stir, and his eyes flew open, revealing his dark, empty room in the bunker. He was slightly sweating and his heart was beating fast. The room was completely silent, but Dean didn't stir. Instead, he spent the next half hour trying to remember Cas's words and found that nothing came. They had slipped from his mind as easily as they had fallen from Cas's mouth.

He considered praying, but waited. After all, it might not have really been Cas. . .