We're both freaks

Dean's POV;

My phone decided it would be a brilliant idea to ring at seven AM the next morning. I grumbled and snuggled further into the warmth of Castiel's chest, choosing to ignore it.

"You're not going to get that?" he mumbled.

"If it's important they'll call back."

As if on cue, my phone went off again. My eyes flew open and I pushed away from Cas, grabbing my jeans from last night and yanking out my phone.

"Sammy? Whoa, whoa, calm down. What's the matter?"

I froze.

"He what? Okay. All right. Sit tight Sammy, I'm coming to get you."

I pulled on my clothes as quickly as I could.

"What's going on?" Cas asked.

"Sammy needs me. Dad he...well he-"

"I'm coming with you."

"Cas, you don't have too."

"I'm coming with you," he said again, not leaving room for argument, as he got up and hastily pulled on his clothes, before we hurried out the door.

I sped home, for once feeling glad I only lived two hours away. Cas said nothing, but kept a reassuring hand on my thigh as I drove. The second we pulled up to my house I was out of the car, up the stairs and into the house, Cas right behind me.

"Sam!" I yelled.

"In here," his voice called from the kitchen.

I hurried into the kitchen preparing for the worst. Instead I was met with Sam sitting at the counter, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"Uh, what's up dude?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, not looking up at me.

"You called me freaking out about Dad and some big fight you had and now you're making pb+j's like everything's peachy. So, what gives?"

He sighed, set down the knife and finally met my eyes. I held back a gasp. His left eye was puffy, like he'd taken a pretty good punch to the face.

"He did that didn't he," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah Dean, he did. But it's fine, I'm okay."

"Like hell it's fine! Have you even iced it?"

"Not yet," he said, shrugging.

Cas cleared his throat next to me, making me jump. I almost forgot he was here, which of course made me feel guilty. He offered something to Sam. It took me a second to realize it was a dishcloth with ice in it. When the hell did he get that?

"Thanks," Sam said gratefully, holding the ice against his injured eye.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Cas cut me off.

"Why don't you go sit on the couch Sam? Dean you go too. I'll finish the sandwiches," he offered.

Sam nodded, heading for the couch. I went to follow, but Cas stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Not really."

He stared at me for a moment; nodding and leaning up to softly press his lips to my cheek. No other words were needed. He was here for me and that's all I needed to know as I made my way over to the recliner in the living room. Sammy was stretched out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.