This story could be read as Destiel, or not, just depending on your preference.

The thing about being a Hunter was that you learned something new every day. Dean Winchester saw that as both a blessing and a curse. He'd learned to just roll with the punches and adapt to whatever messed up situation was at hand. Tonight that skill would definitely be needed.

It was late, and Dean had beat Sam back to the motel. They'd split up to cover more ground on the possible vengeful spirit they were investigating. Sam was interviewing the widow of the poor guy who'd been dismembered, and Dean had drawn the short straw and was just getting back from the Coroner. Based on what was left of the body, it definitely seemed like their kind of thing.

He shrugged off his suit coat and loosened his tie, walking to the minifridge for a beer. That's when he heard it: heavy, uneven breathing coming from behind one of the beds. Dean drew his gun and cautiously approached.

"Cas?"

The angel was sitting on the floor, leaning up against the bed. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and he was staring off into space with a look of pure terror on his face.

"Cas, buddy, what's going on?" Dean gently reached out and touched the angel's shoulder.

Castiel flinched and seemed to snap out of his trance, wide blue eyes meeting Dean's gaze.

"Cas, what's wrong? Are there hex bags? What's happening?"

"I...no...no hex bags."

"Okay...what's wrong?"

Cas shook his head. "I'm not sure what happened...I was...remembering Purgatory...and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe." He sounded confused. "I'm an angel. I don't need to breathe. I don't understand what's happening."

"That sounds like a panic attack." Huh. Add that to the list of things Dean didn't know. Apparently angels could have panic attacks.

Cas nodded, still visibly upset. Dean sighed. "Come on, get off the floor." He helped Cas to his feet. He was shaking, which was concerning. It was a suspiciously human reaction to traumatic memories. Once again, Dean wondered how the angel had escaped Purgatory. His 'angel mojo' still seemed to be recovering.

Cas sat on the bed and his eyes became unfocused. Dean worried that he would slip back into the panic attack. "Hey, Cas...do you wanna talk about it? I mean, if anyone understands, it's me. I've been there."

"No." Cas simply stated.

"That's alright. Just breathe, okay?" Dean tried to talk him through it.

"I don't need to breathe, I'm an angel."

"Still. Just trust me. Take a deep breath, focus on the air going into your lungs. Your vessel's lungs, whatever."

Cas drew a ragged breath. "I can't stop thinking about it...I don't know why." He said quietly.

"Yeah." Dean just agreed. He knew exactly what the angel meant. Suddenly he had an idea. "Cas, can we try something?"

"What did you have in mind?" Cas was looking at Dean, but the hunter could tell his mind was somewhere else. He recognized the haunted look in his eyes; it was the same one he saw in the mirror every day.

"When Sammy was little...he'd have these nightmares. He'd wake up crying, sometimes even screaming. The only way I could get him to calm down was like this..." Dean put a hand on Castiel's back, and the angel flinched.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe now, I've got you." Dean said softly. Cas relaxed a bit. "Guess what letter this is." He traced the letter 'A' onto Cas's back.

"Umm..." Cas shook his head. "Could you draw it again?"

"Yeah. Just focus on this. Get out of your head, Cas." Dean said as he repeated the motion.

"It's an 'A'."

"There you go." Dean smiled. "See? Just focus on my hand, the letters. Don't think about anything except this. This is what's real. Not what's going on in your head." He continued to trace letters onto Castiel's back.

"P"

"I"

"E"

Cas smiled. "Pie?"

"You know it." Dean grinned. It was working. The angel had stopped shaking, and was visibly more relaxed. After a few more letters, Cas was breathing deeply again.

"Thank you, Dean." He said awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I-"

"Cas, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. I get it. If you need that again...if you need anything...come to me, okay?"

Castiel nodded gratefully. "Thank you." He looked like he was about to say something more, but didn't get the chance.

The doorknob rattled, and Sam walked in. "So get this..."

Dean sighed. Sammy had the worst timing.

Hey guys :) I hope you liked the story! For anyone who's curious, the tracing letters onto someone's skin is actually a mindfulness technique used to help people who suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. It forces your mind to focus on the sensation and nothing else. It feels pretty good too. Just kind of a mental health tip for anyone who needs it.