The Dream I Dreamed (A Dean Winchester Love Story)

Chapter 10: And Wasted

"So Red Dawg and his guys were Bartholomew's people?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned. "Yeah, and they got slaughtered. Which means that this new group is even worse." Dean closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "Haven't I always said that angels are dicks? No offense." he added, glancing at Hope.

"None taken." She laughed, running a hand through Dean's hair to smooth out the tangles.

***********************

When Dean woke up the next morning  He followed the smell of eggs and bacon to the kitchen where he found Hope juggling several different pans on the stove. "Good morning." She greeted him without turning around.

"Good morning." He replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "You make breakfast now, too?" Dean asked, mock surprise in his voice.

Hope laughed. "Yup. I'm an all-purpose angel." Dean came up behind her and wrapped  his arms around her waist. Her head didn't even reach his shoulder; if someone came up behind them they would not be able to tell that Hope was there.

"Where's everybody else?" Dean asked, reaching  out to steal a piece of bacon from the plate in front of them, earning himself a smack on the hand from Hope.

"I think Sam and Kevin are still asleep, and Cas went to the store. Put two more pieces of bread in the toaster." She instructed him, stirring the eggs around in their pan.

Dean obeyed. "You let Cas go to the store? Alone?" After a moment his green eyes widened in horror. "You didn't let him take the Impala, did you?"

Hope laughed at the exaggerated terror in his expression. "Of course not; I'm not crazy. I zapped him there. He has strict orders not to talk to strangers, not to take candy from people in creepy vans, and to pray to me when he's done."

Dean laughed. "Covering all of the bases. Well done. I hope you told him to get pie."

"Of course." Hope turned off the stove and scooped some eggs, bacon, and sausage onto a plate. She handed it to Dean who added two freshly-buttered pieces of toast as he carried it and his coffee to the table and sat down.

Hope came up behind him and perched on the arm of his chair, rubbing his shoulders as he made an appreciative sound around a mouthful of eggs. "Sleep well?" She asked.

Dean froze for a second, then relaxed his muscles and swallowed. "Uh...yeah." He managed, sounding unsure.

"What?" Hope asked.

"Nothing. It's just..." He huffed a small laugh but his eyes held no humor. "I can't remember the last time someone asked me that." the hunter shook his head. "God, it must have been before Mom..." He trailed off, swallowing the memories. Hope moved her hand to his back, rubbing gently. Dean's hand shivered slightly, making the light bounce off of his fork.

"I'm sorry, Dean." The angel murmured, wishing for all the world that she could heal the pain in Dean's heart as easily as a cut or a broken bone. He just nodded shakily, unable to form a reply. "My Mom used to ask me every morning." Hope told him. "And if I said no, she'd sit me down and let me talk about it and by the end I always felt better." The angel was smiling softly now, still rubbing Dean's back. "Then one morning I woke up and she wasn't there to ask me." Dean looked up sympathetically. "Car crash. I was ten." She explained. "I never knew my Dad and I didn't have any other family, so I got shuffled off to foster care. And the Mom there, she would ask. But it wasn't the same, you know? I was...afraid to tell her no because what would she do to make it better? What could she do? And after a while, she stopped." Hope looked down at Dean, two pairs of red-rimmed eyes seeing everything in each other. "I never forgot how much it meant to have someone care how you slept." She smiled. "Of course, now I don't sleep, but..."

"It's still nice." Dean supplied. Hope nodded. "Well, then, did you not-sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes." She replied, looking at Dean. The Angel's eyes were soft and warm, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. It was the kind of look Dean was used to giving, not receiving.

"What?" Dean asked, unsure of how to respond to the affection in her eyes.

"Just...you. You're beautiful." She replied, smoothing her fingers through his hair.

Dean's heart squeezed. Once again, it had been a long time since someone had told him that. He could  hear his mother's voice in his head; 'You're so beautiful, Dean. My little angel.

Angels are watching over you.'

********************

Castiel pushed a cart full of bagged and paid-for groceries into the parking lot, looking a bit flustered from the social experience. He was about to pray to Hope to come get him when two pairs of hands grabbed him from behind a car. A moment later the former angel and his attackers vanished, leaving his cart abandoned on the asphalt.