Don't want to let you down

But I am hell bound

It's woven in my soul

I need to let it go

Nightmares.

Dean was thrashing about. Everything burned his skin and his heart beat quickened. His lugs felt like he was breathing in clouds and his hands clutched the bed which he did not recognize as anything other than the chains he fell on in hell. He felt each and every wound layer on his body. Scratching, tugging, ripping at his skin. A rage steadily built and he screamed, tried everything to get out. He felt the blood fall down his face, dripping in little droplets from his nose. He could taste the metallic pang of his blood and spit it out.

He tugged vigorously on the chains until they broke, clanking and falling in loud brakes of clashing and rumbling until he started to fall with the final links of metal into the darkest abyss imaginable. Shapes and patterns formed in the emptiness and the silence was blinding; the darkness deafening. Cheap laughter rung in his ears. He felt his bones snapping and stomach boiling in painful pricks stabbing his skin. He needed to get out.

He awoke with heat next to him, and he felt very cold, ripping away the hands that rested on his face and tugging him close. "Dean. Dean it's okay now." Cas tried to comfort him, huddling over him and playing with his hair; rubbing lazy shapes in his back gently. The sobbing, honestly, wasn't expected.

Cas looked as if he was about to start crying and Sam left, whispering, "I'll go make you some tea." Cas nodded, looking into his eyes sadly. Sam smiled sadly, though trying desperately to keep spirits up. Dean clutched Cas' shirt for dear life, his head spinning and eyes unopened.

"Dean, I think you should...can you look at me, Dean?" Dean slowly lifted his head with half-lidded eyes, Cas smiling and kissing his forehead as he held his face between his hands. "Everything's okay now, Dean." Dean sat up, hugging him tight and clearing his throat. Cas wiped the tears form his face, not realizing how intimate the gesture was. But Dean certainly didn't mind.

"Cas, I'm sorry. I- I can't stop it, I just- Cas..." He stuttered, burying his face in his neck, murmuring I'm sorry's in small cries. And never had a man ever seemed so small, so helpless. Dean pulled away, kissing Cas' cheek softly as he thanked him, getting out of the bed on wobbly feet.

"Dean..."

"I need a beer."

"Dean, I- I'm not sure you should- Dean..." It was useless. And where was the harm in one beer? Cas slid from the bed, missing the comfort but wanting to make sure Dean was okay.

The glass shook lightly in his hands. The sweat on his brow and torso glistened in the low, kitchen light. If only he didn't look so ill; so cold. Cas rubbed his shoulders, kissing the back of his head softly. He hummed "Hey, Jude," just as he'd done for him when he was first learning how to sleep. Dean smiled, even though Cas couldn't see.

"Dean, are you okay now?" He asked sweetly, resting his chin on his shoulder as he'd seen many people do.

"Yeah, Cas. I'm always okay."