The Boy With Demon Blood
When Cas met Sam, he'd called him "the boy with the demon blood".
It'd struck a chord, just like he'd known it would. There had been more,
so much more- that, looking back now; would have been more suitable
to say. Sam Winchester was so much more than the demonic blood
churning inside him. He was also human, in fact, he was predominantly so.
Sam was the boy who prayed every night; whether at the bathroom
sink, or on bended knee beside a motel bed. He was the boy with faith in
something far beyond himself. The boy who wanted to be saved, to do good,
to help others, to embark on an impossible quest to save mankind. Because
he thought they still deserved to be saved.
He was the boy who believed; in his brother, in angels, in God, and in humanity.
Sam Winchester had so much faith and belief in everything, but himself. He
doubted his goodness, ability, and willpower. He doubted, but he hoped.
Sam hoped and prayed. All these things Castiel knew, and yet he's chosen
the wrong words- had selected to fuel the younger Winchester's uncertainty.
In that moment; in the motel room with the Winchesters and Uriel- Cas
had forgotten one of the most important things about Sam...
The angels may not have held any faith in Sam Winchester, but God did.