Dean's floating in this painful whiteness, unaware exactly of where he is, if he's fallen, if anything hurts other than his head, until Cas's hand finds his bicep; that, he feels. That touch pulls him out of the whiteness, and as the world starts to filter back in, his memory fills back in too, stunningly fast.

He gasps as he comes to, and he clings back to Cas's arm, appreciating the solid weight of Cas because he finally remembers what that actually means, what Cas means to him and vice versa.

"Cas," he says, still clinging hard to him. He blinks his eyes back into focus and looks up at him, almost unbelieving. "Cas."