Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but I don't.
Summary: "Fall asleep in the ass end of Maine and wake up.... in the middle of nowhere, great."
Notes: For the quickfire challenge over on deancastiel.

The sound of waves woke Dean up.

He opened his eyes slowly, unsure why he felt so peaceful. He was in the middle of a war, feeling safe was not an option. Yet, here he was, feeling as if his entire body was ensconced in a warm embrace, even though he couldn't see a single person near him.

The room Dean was in was circular; it looked as if he was in the bedroom of a hut. Across the way from him was another bed similar to the one he was in. It was simple and comfortable, the wooden frame blending in with the rest of the hut. Outside the hut Dean could hear birds crying out in the light of day.

Dean could also smell salt; it was so thick in the air that he could literally taste it.

It was then that he realized that he was next to the ocean.

Dean would have expected to feel more alarmed at this as he had fallen asleep in a dinky hotel room in Main. Had felt the cold seep all the way into his bones; he'd almost thought that he'd never feel warm again. Except now, Dean wasn't cold. The sweat running down his face could testify to that.

"Fall asleep in the ass end of Maine and wake up in the middle of nowhere, great." Dean murmured aloud.

The fact that he remained unalarmed should have been alarming in and of its self, but Dean didn't feel like he was in danger, and it had been so long since he had felt that way. Since flames devoured his home and destroyed his family. If he could still find some measure of peace, Dean knew, he couldn't afford to give it up.

Searching outside the hut did little to explain to Dean why he was here, or in fact, where here actually was.

Dean had been wrong before, he wasn't near the ocean.

He was on the ocean. He was at the end of a pier in one of those tiki huts that he'd always seen on TV shows set by the ocean. Dean had always thought that, maybe, one day, when the fight was over with, he'd go to the Ocean and find a tiki hut for himself, with no one around, just him, the waves and the birds for company. Though recently he'd entertained bringing another person with him, someone else who deserved some rest.

"Well, looks like I got my wish." Except that there was no Castiel to sit next to and just soak in the silence. They wouldn't speak, they'd just enjoy each other’s company and the knowledge that they were both safe.

Before Dean could get really and truly upset, because he hadn't seen Castiel in months, ever since the archangels had punished him, killed the angel for doing the right thing, a whisper of wind told Dean that he wasn't alone.

"I told you guys, I'm not going to work..." Dean finished turning around. "...Cas?"

It was the angel, still with that ever-present confused expression on his face. The one that said he understood everything and nothing about the world, about Dean, but that he was the one person who knew Dean. He knew Dean's soul and he still wanted to be around Dean, maybe even liked him.

"No Cas, your dead. Zachariah told me so himself!" This had to be a trick, a nasty disgusting trick of the Angels. They had tried to say that Castiel had switched vessels after it became clear to them that Dean Winchester would work with no other angel, except Castiel.

Dean didn't know why, but he'd known that the angel standing in front of him all those months ago wasn't Castiel, he'd known before Chuck burst into the room to tell him. That angel had felt cold, distant, while Castiel had always felt old, holy and most of all warm.

Much like the angel standing in front of him now did.

"Cas?" Dean would blame the quavering quality of his voice on the salty air later, but for right now, maybe it was okay to admit, to himself at least, that he so desperately hopped that this mirage standing in front of him was Castiel.

"I couldn't come out sooner, the others would have sensed my presence." Castiel did look genuinely sorry, but still...

"Where were you Cas? The Angels said you were dead. That you could never come back."

"I never left you Dean. I have been here all this time." Castiel moved forward and placed his hand over the handprint on his shoulder; evidence of the Angel saving him from hell, from his own vile nature. Evidence of a second chance.

"Cas, what... What are you talking about, I haven’t' seen hide nor hair of you since that night, since I failed." Dean didn't say how Zachariah had at first gleefully explained just what happened to the Angels and their vessels that disobeyed the heavenly host.

"I have been with you, Dean. I could never leave you alone to face what is to come. Jimmy's body was destroyed when the archangels came, but his soul reached the Elysian Fields safely. I had to find some place that would keep me near you, to protect you, without making my presence known." Here Castiel stopped for a moment and gave Dean a questioning gaze, "I had hoped you wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't mind what, Cas?" But Dean was beginning to realize just what Castiel had done.

"That you wouldn't mind if I hid within your soul."

Dean knows that he should be freaking out, he should be ranting and raving, but this is Castiel and having him very much alive and close to him, instead of forever gone, never to speak or touch again... maybe this is what a miracle feels like.

"Your alive..." and Dean is starting to believe that maybe it's true, maybe he didn't loose one of the most important things in his life the night Lucifer rose.

The sound of birds singing shook Dean out of his reverie.

"We're not really here are we? I'm still in Main, and this is what?" Dean gestured around, his hands whipping around to encompass the whole area.

"This is your idea of Paradise, Dean. This is..." and Castiel could find no words to explain that this was all that he could give Dean. "This is where we can always meet. Know that you will never be alone."

"You'll always be here?" Dean couldn't contain the note of uncertain hope in his voice.

"Always."

Dean never did explain to Sam, why he suddenly started sleeping regularly again, when before he had never slept through a night. Especially after Castiel had died. The weeks following that had led to Dean waking up with a scream on the end of his tongue.

Not any more. Dean sleeps soundly again, and always wakes up with a smile on his face, every single time.

Back when Sam was younger and he knew where he stood with Dean, he would have pestered, begged and pleaded for Dean to tell him what had happened. All he can do now is hope and pray that Dean never loses whatever had let him sleep again.

"Hey Cas, toss me a cold one. Would you?" Dean yelled as he sat in an old rickety lawn chair. A tackle box balanced carefully on his lap and a fishing rod in one hand.

He looked up as Castiel carefully made his way down the pier. The angel had a beer in one hand and a book in the other.

Dean knew that when Castiel reached him, he would hand Dean the beer and then settle himself on the wooden planks of the pier right next to Deans chair, his bristly hair rubbing slightly against the skin of Dean's bare arm.

And through it all Dean would never once loose the feeling of peace and love that Castiel wrapped around him every night.