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The first time Sam sees Cas carry an unconscious Dean is because he can't heal him. The Gorgon Noah slams Dean’s head into the wall of that dingy kitchen so hard it peals like a sledgehammer breaking gravel, only for the monster to reel back and smash it once more before Dean crumples to the ground.
Enter Jack, his blade dripping Gorgon blood as he takes in the scene. It’s not a pretty one; Cas is incapacitated on the ground, Sam is breathless and splayed on the floor himself, and his brother is completely unconscious- or worse.
“Check on Cas. I got Dean,” and Jack wastes no time dropping to his knees beside the angel. Sam turns Dean’s head to assess the wound and- it’s bad. It’s really bad. Sam does his best to quell the panic quickly rising and tying his stomach into a knot. “Dean…” he pleads, voice small and younger than he’s sounded in a long time. He checks the pulse. It’s there, thank god, but the man remains motionless.
He vaguely hears Jack exclaim something out of frustration, and Cas responds. Sam is checking under Dean’s eyelids when he realizes what that means.
“Wake up. Hey, Dean. Guys!” Cas could heal him. Cas could heal him! “Hey. Wake up. Dean?”
Sam registers Cas’ presence to his left, and audibly sighs in relief as his two fingers touch the center of Dean’s forehead, carefully avoiding the wound. Sam waits for the glow. And waits. He looks up at Cas and the angel has his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, or exertion, or maybe frustration. Another few torturous seconds tick by and still there is no light. Still Dean lies prone and injured. “Cas?”
Cas’ eyes open to reveal a look of panic. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He swallows and tries again. “I can’t heal him” and he sounds as small as Sam had.
“What do you mean?” Sam tries to keep the aggravation out of his voice. It’s not Cas’ fault, it’s that degenerate Gorgon’s fault.
“I can’t heal him. Nothing- I don’t know why. Maybe Noah did something to him, or maybe- it could be Michael.” He says the archangels name like it’s a curse, dripping with venom. “He told me today-” Cas pauses. Takes a breath. “Michael is fighting him. He’s not sleeping. I shouldn’t have let him-” Cas cuts himself off.
Let him? Sam might laugh at how Dean would react hearing Cas suggest that he could forbid him from doing anything, might tell Cas as much, and they might share a chuckle over that. He doesn’t feel like laughing. “We have to go,” he says instead, trying his best to think rationally. “Let’s get him to the bunker. There’s medical supplies, and maybe Rowena can cure him.”
Cas nods his acceptance. “I can carry him.” Sam steps back as Cas slides one arm under Dean’s shoulders, the other beneath his knees, and lifts, gently and slowly. Once he’s sure he’s got Dean in his firm arms, Cas looks upon Dean’s blank and bloody face. His eyes are wide and sad, so blue that Sam can swear there’s water.
“Do you need help?” Sam asks.
“I can carry him,” Cas repeats, coming back to himself and turning towards the doorway. His sorrowful demeanor has been replaced with stoic determination, and that eases Sam just a bit. Jack leads the way out, then Cas turns himself and his charge sideways to fit through the narrow doorway without scraping Dean’s head or letting the wall bend Dean’s ankles. He continues through the hallway sideways, grapevining his way out to where the Impala is parked.
Jack rushes ahead to open the back door of the car for the incoming men. Cas follows with surety and strength. Sam knows from experience that getting unconscious people (or monsters) into the back seat of a car is never easy, but Cas handles it gracefully. He practically crawls into the cramped bench besides Dean and lays the man on his side.
Sam moves towards the driver's seat, but he can’t stop watching Cas’ ministrations with fascination. He’s moving each safety belt buckle up and out of the way, so that the metal doesn’t dig into Dean’s skin. He pulls the collars of Dean’s shirt and jacket, so that it doesn’t constrict his throat. Sam’s never thought to do that.
“Jack, you sit up front. I will continue trying to heal Dean.” There’s no argument as Jack takes the passenger seat and Sam starts the car. In the rearview mirror, Sam can see as Cas sits himself in the back left seat and gently places Dean’s head on his lap, wound side up.
Sam wastes no time pressing the gas and getting their shaken party back to Lebanon. As they barrel along, the sun begins to set over an open road. Dean would love it, and Sam is upset that he just can’t appreciate its beauty right now.
There is no music and no talking. He checks the rearview mirror far too frequently. It’s an anxious and involuntary habit. True to his word, Cas has his right fingers pressed to Dean’s head in an attempt to heal him. Sometimes his eyes are closed, sometimes open and pleading, and sometimes Sam can see his lips moving though no words are heard. In his seventh (okay, eighth) glance into the backseat, Sam notices that Cas’ left hand is cradling Dean’s head. Gentle fingers card through the sandy hair behind Dean’s ear, the thumb massaging circles into the back of his head.
In the long silence of the ride, Sam can’t help but wonder if he’s missed something. Something that had happened between the angel and the hunter. Cas used to be Castiel, angel of the lord, moving humans about like playthings. His actions were nearly robotic and his jarring abuse of instant flight travel nearly gave the brothers heart attacks on multiple occasions. Now, he is sitting in the backseat of a rumbling Chevy Impala, cradling Dean Winchester with remarkable gentleness and consideration.
Later, Sam and Cas both maneuver Dean to the cot because the Gorgon sapped some strength away from Cas. Later, Dean wakes up with a horrible scream and they have to deal with Michael’s escape. Later, things get in the way, like they always do.
The second time Sam sees Cas with an unconscious Dean, it’s a much happier situation. Sam and Eileen occupy the loveseat in the Dean Cave (god, Dean’s got him calling it that now) as Cas and Dean watch from the central couch as Matt Damon and George Clooney exchange witty repartee on-screen. The lights are dimmed and it must be getting quite late. Sam feels sleep tug at his eyelids and he knows Eileen isn’t faring much better. They had all returned from a vampire hunt that day, agreeing to take in a movie together in comfortable silence. It was Dean who picked Ocean’s Eleven, obviously. Sam’s about to announce his departure when he looks over to Dean and Cas, and stops for a moment to take in the sight. Ten minutes ago, Dean was slowly but surely sinking down into the couch cushions, taking up more of Cas’ space in his glacial descent. Cas didn’t seem to mind, dutifully watching the heist movie.
Now, Dean is completely asleep with his right cheek smushed into Cas’ left shoulder. His knees are curled up to rest on Cas’ thigh, and his left hand rests atop the angel's chest. A chest that’s moving- despite not needing to breathe, Cas breathes in a perfectly consistent up-and-down under Dean’s hand. The angel's left arm wraps behind Dean’s back and his hand presses atop Dean’s waist, keeping him safe and warm. His face looks calm, blissed out, if not for a slightly smug and self-satisfied upturning of his lips.
They look happy. They look comfortable, and completely at-ease. Dean must trust so wholly in Cas to be able to let himself become so vulnerable, his form draping over Cas like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And Cas- he looks so human. So warm and pliable, welcoming Dean into his embrace. Sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen either of them like this- two of the most hard-boiled people imaginable wrapped together in the dim light of a glowing television screen. They look- sweet, and romantic. Sam once again wonders if there is something happening that he is unaware of.
However, exhaustion begs for his attention and he squeezes Eileen’s hand. Bed? he signs, and she nods. They stand up together. “We’re gonna hit the hay. You good here?” Sam nods at Dean and Cas just smiles and nods.
The next morning when Sam arises, the Dean Cave is empty and both Dean and Cas’ bedroom doors are shut. Sam wonders if Cas carried Dean to his bed like the day he carried him to the car. He wonders if Cas stayed the night in Dean’s room. Wonders if he’s still there now.
Sam doesn’t have to wonder for long. A Rougarou hunt takes them to central Nevada and they stop at a motel two thirds of their way through the drive. They have been getting two separate rooms ever since Eileen started joining their hunts, and Cas waited out the night in Dean’s room. Two to a room. It just made sense.
Sam had been so close to just bursting through the door- it’s 9:30 and they were supposed to hit the road half an hour ago. He is a little brother after all, and it is his right to invade his brother's privacy to bother him out the door. The fluttering of thin curtains inside the window catches his eye, the breeze ruffling it where the window is cracked to welcome in the cool desert air of the night. He hears Cas’ laughter, which is not so common a sound. Sam cautiously peers through the window and thanks his lucky stars that he did not throw open the door because inside are two men that are clearly a couple.
They’re both shirtless, and Sam can only hope they have pants on beneath the bed covers. Cas reclines against the headboard chucking down at the man splayed on his chest. “We have to get up, beloved. It’s half past nine.”
Dean groans exaggeratedly and buries his head into Cas’ chest. “I caaan’t. M’sleep furever,” his voice carries, muffled. “Stay with me, you’re so warm. M’ personal space heater.”
Cas gets crinkles around his eyes where he stares adoringly at the big baby clinging to him. “Hmmm, tempting.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “But Sam will be pounding on the door any minute, and I think you’d rather we be clothed.” If only Cas knew how right he is.
There are pitiful groans of protest as Cas gathers Dean in his arms and lifts them both out of bed, steering them towards the bathroom. Sam backs away, realizing that he is intruding on a private moment. He hears the shower start up, and he rejoins Eileen in their room with a newfound patience.
“I just want you to know that I want you to be happy, whatever that looks like,” Sam blurts at Dean when they are alone in the Gas-N-Sip gathering snacks. Dean looks up from the label of a bag of plantain chips he had been reading. Wide green eyes flick between Sam’s interrogatively.
“The hell are you talking about?” Dean implores, but Sam knows his looks of feigned ignorance better than anyone.
He sighs and purses his lips, physically stopping himself from rolling his eyes. He can appreciate that this is hard for Dean. “Look, we’ve been through some serious crap. And the last thing I want is for you to feel that you have to hide something from me, or that you’re not as happy as you could be for my sake. Just- there’s nothing you, or Cas, or whatever, could do to make me think any less of you. Okay?”
He’s expecting Dean to fight. He’s expecting a gruff “Whatever,” or “Can it, Doctor Phil.” What he happily accepts is Dean’s “Okay, Sammy. Okay.” Then, he purchases more snacks than is appropriate for three people and one celstial and they’re off to hunt a Rougarou.
Considering the usual amount of emotional communication the Winchester’s typically accomplish (none) excluding verge-of-death situations (some), Sam classifies this as a win.
It is a miracle to see Dean conscious, and happy, and in love. Sam has never seen his brother like this and he feels so grateful that their little family made it to the other side.
Slowly but surely, Dean has become more and more comfortable with a little PDA with Cas. They sit pressed together on the couch, exchange pecks on the cheek when Dean enters the kitchen for some morning coffee. Sam’s even seen them holding hands at a farmer’s market of all places. Every time Dean sees Sam or Jack or Eileen looking, his cheeks flush bright pink and Cas beams with amusement. And now, when facing the increasingly rare life-threatening situations or periods of time apart, Dean and Cas collide in a passionate, life-affirming kiss.
It’s so simple, such a normal happiness that they get to have. Wonders never cease.