Somewhat blissfully unaware, the past few days had been mostly normal for Dean even with a slightly stressed angelic visitor. He hadn't asked, though, even if he suspected it was something about the teenager having a fit over the network. If Cas wanted to talk, he'd talk. The guy was a big boy enough for something like that, Dean had thought. So, he just tried to help, and tried not to think anything of it when Cas disappeared for a couple days. They all had their own ways of dealing, and Dean was pretty notorious, himself, for bottling it up and tucking away somewhere alone when he couldn't drink it away.
Thus, Dean's sleep was calm enough. If there was any lingering dreams, they weren't important enough that his brain clung to the elements when something in him stirred, belated as usual, to the sensation that something was off. Different. Something in the room, but nothing that weighed heavily on the senses like he knew a monster would, or even a gun pointed at him. Not bad, really, but there was still a split second right after he went from unaware to awake when his hand started for under his pillow, green eyes jerking up. His fingers were curled around the grip, one resting on the trigger of the revolver, by the time his eyes managed to focus enough with whatever faint light was filtered through from the house across the street. Somehow, he would probably recognize the angel in complete darkness.
"Damnit, Cas..." He grumbled, voice a bit deep and rough from the heavy breathing and relaxation of sleep as he let go of the gun to pull his hand back out. There was a beat before Dean just turned his face into his pillow, like he was trying to will himself just a little bit more awake, the hunter reflexes clearly taking less brainpower than the whole talking thing. He gave a little groan, when seemingly satisfied enough that he was awake enough, turning his head back to stare out in Castiel's general direction, trying to glare, but it wasn't anywhere near it.
"We talked about it...kinda creepy when you just stand there like that." To him, it was perfectly fine, even if a bit mumbled. Dean moved then, shifting himself a little bit to tuck in some, just to make room, grabbing for the edge of the blanket to pull it back, his eyes eventually closing again. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten so used to actually sleeping when there wasn't a case, but right now it felt like he should've not gotten back into the habit. "Comere."
After giving the bed a pat, Dean just tucked it back against his chest, peeking an eye open before realizing that was more effort than just looking. "Get in. You know th' rules." He smiled a little to himself, reclosing his eyes and lifting his arm as he full well expected Cas to tuck up under it. After all, him laying there like a log was almost as bad as him standing beside the bed. Maybe he'd need to move a chair in there in case Cas ever decided he didn't actually want to lay down. He'd had one in the bunker, anyway.