For Alex. At her request to write some "Dean and Cas awesomesauce." Here is my attempt...More to come later. This can be read as a ONE-SHOT although, there will be another few chapters.

Set in Season 4. The first time Dean prays to Castiel is not what we saw on television. There was another time...earlier in their acquaintance.

Dean was drowning. Air filled his lungs. He was lying on his motel room bed alone. But he was drowning. That could only be what this felt like. He fisted his hands into his sheets and curled in on himself, head turned into the pillow. He'd been drinking. Excessively. Trying to hit that point that sometimes numbed the pain, but today it wasn't working. Flashbacks plagued his mind, remnants of Hell he never seemed to be able to push out of his consciousness for long. When he'd been pulled from the pit, why hadn't they healed his mind as well?

What was the point of a brand new body if his mind was so broken there just weren't enough pieces to put back together?

Sammy. Sammy had been the glue that Dean relied on to reattach those pieces and now...well things were so bad between them now that Sam, himself, was responsible for a good number of those shattered pieces. Dean couldn't think about it. Truly.

Dad. God Dad, why aren't you here? Oh right, you sold your SOUL to bring my sorry ass back into this plane of existence. What a great freaking job I've done with the second chance I never asked for. Now the third chance.

Dean sat up. His stomach roiling. Anxiety washed through him and he took a shaky breath. 'It's okay.' He soothed himself. Fuck. No it wasn't. He wasn't stupid enough to believe his own lies. Even drunk.

He'd spent half an hour yelling and pleading to a God that either wasn't there or didn't give a shit. Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and set them on the floor. The motel room rug was soft under his bare feet. He needed help. He didn't understand how someone could help him, but he couldn't do it alone. He ducked his head into his hands and closed his eyes, felt his jaw tremble as he fought tears. And then he found his lips whispering a broken prayer that followed his already pointless utterances of Sam and Dad. It was elegant in its simplicity. "Cas. Castiel."

The words had barely escaped his lips it seemed, when he sensed the presence behind him. Quiet. Powerful.

Dean turned his head. "Cas?" He said brokenly, unable to conceal his shock.

"Hello Dean."

Dean sat blinking stupidly.

Castiel's brow furrowed and he moved with his preternatural stealth to stand in front of the human, head tilted to the side, studying Dean as if he were an impossible puzzle. "You seem surprised."

Dean stared dumbly. "I..." He broke off. Uncertain what he even wanted to say. He'd been expecting no response; he expected to sit in the dim room repeating Castiel's name like a litany, like a mantra over and over. The name bringing comfort and pain at the same time- like the name 'Sammy.' Or 'Dad.' Bittersweet in its utter futility. "I didn't expect you to come."

"You called me." To Dean's surprise Castiel sank down onto his heels so that they were eye level. He looked at Dean with an uncomfortable intensity, something not quite HUMAN about the gaze. His trench coat pooled about his legs on the floor as he crouched, like the folded wings of a giant bird.

"Y...yes." Dean said hoarsely, trying to regain his balance.

He caught Cas's wince at the smell of his breath. "You've been drinking."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "When haven't I been drinking?" He didn't understand how the Angel could be so obtuse sometimes.

Cas nodded, like it was a fair question; his gaze fell inward for a moment, the dark sweep of his lashes shuttering his eyes momentarily before he looked back up at Dean and locked him in his look like a rabbit in a snare. "Do you need my assistance?"

Dean's lips parted for a moment while he struggled to form a sentence. "I just..." he took a ragged breath. "I just needed a friend."

Castiel stood up to his full height and stepped back a few paces. His look became more remote. "We are not friends, Dean."

Dean felt the words land like a physical blow. His mouth worked for a moment, and he swallowed against the sudden tightness in this throat. His adam's apple bobbed against the taught cords of his neck. "Oh..."

Cas tilted his head once more at the abrupt vulnerability in the young man's expression. His blue eyes softened as he read the pain. "I've upset you?" The low tone of his voice pitched soothingly.

Hurt anger skittered across the human's features, the green eyes suddenly narrowed and guarded. "No. Of course not. Glad I know where I stand. Wouldn't want to think I meant something to you or anything. I mean that's just crazy."

Castiel watched the muscle in Dean's jaw jump. Tension. He was getting better at reading the physical tells and how they related to the hunter's emotions. They were so...fragile, these humans. Most Angels saw that fragility as weakness, as something to be derided.

He, himself, had been ambivalent in his years of watching the Earth. Humans were strange, unpredictable. But Dean fascinated Castiel. The bravery. The contradictions. The nobility. The jagged edges. All wrapped up in one person. Such an incredible creation of his father's expert hand.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I have more pressing matters to attend to. I cannot be your caretaker."

"No. That's fine," he said in a tone that indicated he thought Castiel's words were anything but fine. "I don't want you here to babysit."

"I...I don't understand. Why would you want me to sit on an infant?"

Dean wiped a hand over his face. "It's a turn of phrase, Cas." His tone was weary.

Humans employed a dizzying array of colloquialisms. Castiel barely had a handle on any of them. "Babysit." He repeated, testing out the words on his tongue. He looked at Dean again.

Lines were etched around his eyes and mouth. He looked...tired, but more than tired. Exhausted, hopeless, gutted somehow. Like whatever spark of spirit that made Dean Dean was guttering, a flame reaching the end of its wick. It made Castiel pause in taking his leave. "I cannot help you." The Angel's stoic face took on an expression of gentleness. "I wish that I could."

"Yeah," Dean said coldly. "I think you made that perfectly clear, Cas." He tried to leverage himself up and staggered precariously as he took to his feet. He leaned a hand against the headboard. "Go. We aren't friends. I don't want to take up more of your time."

Cas watched him, eyes filled with pity. "I do care about what happens to you, Dean."

"Yeah well I guess that makes you the only one." Dean said breezily.

"You fool yourself..." the Angel replied, it was obvious that he was choosing his words with deliberation. "Sam cares. Bobby Singer cares. I am hardly the only one."

"Sam cares?" Dean snorted derisively.

"Sam carries his own burdens. He is set on a...dangerous path... but he does care, Dean."

Dean started to walk away from the bed, quickly decided that was a bad idea and flopped drunkenly back down on it, the springs creaking at his weight. "I can't do this, Cas." He said brokenly. "I can't..."

"You will..." Castiel drew closer and reached out a hand towards Dean's pained face.

Dean lifted his head and shied away, as if frightened. "What are you doing?"

Cas touched his fingers to the creased forehead and the feeling of vertigo eased slightly. Dean blinked, the loose-limbed relaxed feeling gone. "Oh God. Did you just make me sober? It took a lot of effort getting this drunk, Cas!"

Castiel's mouth crooked up into an almost smile. He rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. It was gentle, belying the Angel's power. "I can give you what you want from the alcohol."

Cas brushed a finger across Dean's temple. "Sleep."

Dean's eyes fluttered closed.

Castiel spared a moment to watch the chest rise and fall in time with the man's suddenly calm breathing. He doubted that Dean would remember any of this in the morning. He hadn't altered the hunter's memory. He didn't need to. The whiskey would do that.

He felt...pity for Dean. For both the Winchesters. Humans caught between the forces of Heaven and Hell. Not for the first time, he wondered if this half-broken soul was capable of shouldering the responsibility. Dean didn't even know the half of his part yet and already he was drowning. Castiel couldn't imagine the extra weight when he found out the truth. He wasn't sure if it had been much of a kindness to pull Dean from Hell only to dump him here. But it wasn't his place to question orders. He'd secretly done too much of that already. With an imperceptible nod, Castiel was gone.

Dean shifted in his slumber, rolling to his stomach. For a few brief hours he'd experience the one fleeting gift Castiel had been able to grant him. Peace...

I'm posting this at a weird time, but if there are any other insomniacs out there, please shoot me a review. :)