I am quite aware of the fact Mix & Match seems to be on hiatus. Its not, I'm working on the chapter as you read this. As you read this, I want you to know that I wrote it as a one-shot and I might leave it as so. Still, if enough readers feel as if it should be continued, then I will turn it into a full story. I hope you enjoy this. I poured my heart and soul into it. Also, if it turns into a story, it will most likely be M. For now, it remains at a T. For all intents and purposes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Faith
Dean could remember the time Sammy was barely ten, playing in the backyard of a dusty trailer they were renting. Dean himself was fourteen, buzz-cut haired, smart mouthed, and quick-witted. He was idly cleaning a shotgun strewn across his lap, listening to his brother's soft footsteps on the dirt covered ground. Sam had found a beaten up soccer ball in one of the trailer's cobwebbed corners and insisted on going outside to kick it around. Dean didn't want to at all, he had better things to do; like clean this gun.
"Dean, look!" Sammy's small playful voice rang out.
"Yep, I see Sammy."
"No you don't!"
Sam had frowned at his brother, turning his back and kicking the ball as hard as he could. It sailed into a bush, about six or seven feet from where he was standing. Dean glared a hole in the back of his head so hot that Sam turned slowly to face his brother.
"Sam. Go get it."
"No!"
"Sam. Cut the shit and get the ball. Then we're going inside."
Sam had gotten the ball. Sam had also ended up stepping on a few rusted nails that broke through the thin soles of his shoes. Dean can still remember the soft cries of his baby brother as he pulled the thin nails out, clenching his eyes at the memory of Sam's flesh torn and bloody.
Dean Winchester had a habit of forcing his brother to do things. And as much as he protected the fragile boy, he also caused him pain as well. Still, he was always there to pick up the pieces. Always. Only this time, he couldn't.
He never knew a soul could bleed this much.
Sam lay on the cold slab of a table in the panic room, his lithe body shaking and convulsing. Whimpers and moans of unintelligible words poured out of his mouth, his nails scratching at his head. Dean stands frozen in the doorway, watching his gargantuan brother morph into that ten year old boy. Blood leaked from Sam's nose, making a puddle on the table beneath him. His eyes fixed on Dean's; anger, betrayal, pain and emptiness filling them.
"Sammy…" Dean breathed, something hard catching in his throat, "Sammy, I'm so sorry…"
Sam whined like a small child, clenching his teeth as he beat on the table with closed fists. His mouth opened to reply only to twist into a large chasm as he screamed helplessly. Dean choked on a sob, leaning against the doorway.
"Dean…" Cas whispered from behind him.
"Put him to sleep Cas," he whispered back through tears, "Just put him to rest."
Cas lowered his eyes to the ground, "I wish I could."
Dean didn't bother to reply, he just walked nimbly over to Sam's side, wrapping his fingers into the man's sweat soaked locks. Sam's eyes softened only a bit, maybe relieved by the familiar touch. The elder Winchester stroked his baby brother's hair softly, letting the moment be a chick flick one because goddammit Sammy deserved that much.
"Sam, I'll fix this," he lowered himself to be eye to eye with him, "I promise, soon you won't have to be in pain anymore."
Sam muttered something unrecognizable back, eyes shut tightly. Dean brought his ear close to Sam's mouth.
"What'd you say, Sammy?"
"Kill…me…." the young man forced out, his eyes opening to reveal broken capillaries.
Dean grew cold, backing away, "No…"
"Please," he whined painfully, "Please Dean… Please make it go away…"
"Cas," Dean barked, "Do something."
"I can't," the angel replied brokenheartedly, "You know I would have by now."
"Why can't you?" the man advanced on him.
"His soul," Cas whispered softly, "is too shattered for me to even let him rest. I couldn't touch him."
"Bullshit!" Dean yelled, kicking a nearby table over, "Fucking bullshit! Do something you dick!"
"I can't!"
Dean opened his mouth to reply only to close it as he noticed the silence in the room. He hurried to Sam's side to find the man slack on the table.
"Sam!" Dean began to smack his cheek, "Sammy!"
"Shh Dean," Cas grabbed his hand, "He is asleep."
"How do you know?"
"His chest."
The Winchester looked down to see the slight rise and fall of Sam's chest. He nodded dumbly, backing away from the man.
"Get some sleep Dean," Cas looked him over worriedly, "You need it."
"How can I…?" Dean asked almost inaudibly.
His eyes met Cas' and Cas understood everything in perfect clarity. How could Dean force Sam into swallowing that disgusting soul? How could he sleep when he'd committed the most horrible sin he could fathom? How could he rest while his brother was in agony?
"Because if you aren't well, you won't be able to help Sam."
"Yeah, you're right. Night Cas," he answered hoarsely, turning to make his way upstairs, "But, uh, just wake me up when he comes to?"
"I will."
"Thanks."
With a short exchange of uncomfortable glances, Dean continued his way upstairs. He didn't bother to acknowledge Bobby who sat in the kitchen eyeing him warily. His thoughts remained on the young man passed out in the panic room. Sam Winchester. His Sammy. He gripped the banister of the second flight of stairs tightly, resting his head on the wall.
"Dean, it hurts," whimpered the messy headed child.
"I know Sammy, I know. Just hold still alright?" a young Dean looked frazzled as he pulling a long nail out of his baby brother's foot.
The bathroom floor was cold beneath them, linoleum that cracked at the corners and bore dark stains. Dean cursed the fact that they were nowhere sanitary and prayed his brother wouldn't catch an infection. The smaller boy had tears dried on his chubby cheeks, eyes puffed and red. He had one hand curled against his chest while the other held onto his brother's shoulder.
"Dean, will Dad be mad?" he whispered fearfully, "Will he be mad at me for getting hurt?"
Dean didn't bother to answer, fearing it more than the boy.
John Winchester would kill Dean. If their father was still alive, Sam would be dead. The moment he had realized his son was soulless, he would put a bullet to his head. Maybe the real Sam would have wanted that. Anything but the agony he was facing right now, even in his sleep.
Dean settled into the warm bed in the guest room, staring at the wall passively. Rubbing a hand absentmindedly down his face, he dropped onto his back. He didn't bother with the covers; neither did he bother to remove his shoes.
o.o
Castiel had brought in a fresh blanket from the closet on the top floor. He draped it over the younger Winchester, pushing back the sweaty locks of brown hair that were stuck to his forehead. With a sigh, he pushed his grace into his fingertips, washing away any dirt and sweat from the boy. It's the least I could do…
"I am very sorry Sam," he breathed deeply, "I wish you would not have to endure this torture."
Sam remained unmoving, the rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible. Castiel sat on the seat beside the slab, resting his hands on his knees as he stared off.
"I am…angry with Dean," a short silence, "No. Not angry. Disappointed."
Castiel remembered the moment he felt the earth shift. The angel had been linked to the Winchesters ever since he made the choice to fight by their side. Even if his bond with Dean was more profound, he could still sense Sam. And the moment Sam's battered, ugly soul was forced down his throat…he felt it. Cas looked back at the boy he once fought by, he stared at the dark bruises forming around his eyes. Sam's cheeks were sallow, his skin pallid.
"I thought he would do right by you. I was wrong. I guess he's more selfish than I realized."
0.0
Dean was in a light layer of sleep, he tried to concentrate on nothing but the bed beneath him. The soft cotton sheets caressed his cheek, so different from his stubble. He forgot Sammy, forgot Heaven & Hell, just slept. Castiel flew into the guest room, looking down at Dean. Everything that was said with Sam was exactly how he felt but of course he could never say that to the man's face. Not with how peaceful he looked now. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently swiped a finger down his cheek.
"Hmm…" Dean murmured, shifting slightly, "He wake up, Cas?"
The angel smiled slightly, "No. Peacefully asleep."
"Mmhmm great, wake me up," yawn, "In an hour…"
"If that is what you wish."
Dean was quiet for a moment before he shifted under Castiel's burning gaze. He opened an eye to gaze back at the angel. With a scoff, he moved onto his back.
"What's up Cas?" he swiped a hand down his face as per usual, trying to wake himself up.
Castiel looked away, "Nothing. I wanted to assure you were alright."
"I'm great Cas."
The angel nodded, not convinced at the least. He honestly knew the bond he and Dean shared had little to do with the latter's rescue. Saving Dean Winchester was an order. Nothing real between them had much to do with orders. He believed in Dean's beauty due to his treatment of others. His love for his brother. His adoration of Ben and Lisa. The smile he gives the scared. The rest he gives the tired. The lives he gives breath. In only a short thirty years, Dean had managed to touch more lives than those at the age of ninety. And his face showed it all.
Many times, even too often, he looked old. He looked wise; worldly. Castiel would do anything for him to obtain a bright face. Dean never looked tired while he joked with his brother or spent late nights in Bobby's house by the fire. He was relaxed as his belly filled with beer and cheap restaurant food.
He was most beautiful when he laughed.
"Cas?" Dean questioned lightly, "What's going on in your head?"
The angel shook his head, "Thinking. I'll leave you to your rest now."
As he begun to stand, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist.
"I wasn't sleeping very well in the first place. So, stay."
Cas let a small smile creep on his lips, "Millennia older than you and yet you still boss me around."
Dean laughed a bit in return, easing back into bed, "Well, humor me."
"I always do, Dean."
They sat in silence. Dean staring off into the dark room as Castiel pretended not to stare at Dean himself. The angel shrugged out of his trench coat, tossing it to the side. Dean looked at him in surprise and question which Castiel answered with smile.
"I'm just getting comfortable, is the way you'd put it Dean."
"Right. Hey, Cas… Sammy, is he…?"
"Going to be okay? I have no idea Dean."
Dean settled deeper into his sheets in almost defeat, staring back off into the darkness. Castiel felt a sense of guilt at the fact that he had nothing to offer Dean and let his hand wander to his charge's shoulder. The hunter gazed at him questioningly in return.
"We'll figure something out," he said softly, "We always do."
The Winchester laughed harshly, "Yeah, we do. Then we fuck everything up again."
"Must you use crude language?"
Dean sighed, "Sorry."
Castiel tried not to startle at the apology, nodding in response. He tried to ignore the growing need pulling at his stomach to comfort Dean in any way.
"Cas..do you get scared?"
"What do you mean?"
"Having to fight over heaven with Raphael, the missing weapons…all of it. Does it ever scare you?"
Honestly, Castiel didn't know how to respond. Fear is a very human emotion. One, he shouldn't feel. Two, he always seemed to feel. Three, he knew he should admit. Still, sitting here next to a man that's lost damn near everything, it's hard to compare your own problems. Castiel looked down at his hands, deciding to gaze there as he nodded. He didn't know what he'd face if he looked into Dean's eyes at the moment. He didn't want to know.
Dean didn't bother to answer, an unspoken 'Me too' hanging in the air between them. He pulled himself up to get closer to the angel, letting his head dip to lay a small kiss on his shoulder. The other man jumped, startled by the intimate gesture.
"What was that?" he asked in his gravelly voice.
"It was a kiss, Cas," Dean replied calmly, laying another on his neck, "So was that."
"Yes," an uncomfortable shift, "But why are you doing it?"
There was no hesitation, "Because I'm scared too, Cas."
The angel nodded, "And this kissing….is sort of like a dog's licking?"
Dean paused, holding back a bark of laughter, "What are you trying to say?"
Castiel turned serious and faced the hunter, "When a dog is anxious, he licks. Your kissing is relieving your anxiety?"
"I guess you could say that," he smiled and moved closer, "You don't mind do you?"
His blue eyes became soft, "I'd do anything to relieve your anxiety, Dean."
There was a moment's silence as Dean began to pull off his black t-shirt. Castiel never let his eyes leave the beautiful man before him, instead opting to slowly unbutton his shirt. It isn't like he hadn't seen this coming. Poor Dean had been in distress for so long, it was only a matter of time until he needed another's reassurance. Reassurance in his humanity and importance. So, maybe he was making it sound like a charity case but…
He wanted this more than he cared to admit…
Dean wordlessly pushed the smaller man into the plush bed beneath them, letting his lips trail down his neck. Castiel made no sound, opting to rub at Dean's shoulders' awkwardly. It isn't like he knew what the hell he was doing. He never had the opportunity to touch someone like this.
"Cas…" Dean breathed into the soft mess of hair belonging to the angel, "Relax, buddy. It's just me."
The man below him sighed, nudging his nose against Dean's jaw, "This will change everything. Are you aware of that?"
Dean backed away suddenly, looking down at him, "I don't think it changes anything. What do you expect out of it?"
Castiel's eyes widened a bit in surprise, "Dean."
As if catching himself, a breath caught in his throat, "Forget it, Cas. I'm going out."
"Dean, wait," but the younger man was already pulling his shirt back on hurriedly and reaching for his worn leather jacket.
"This was a mistake. I'm sorry," he apologized for the second time this night.
Castiel fought back the sting of his words and watched as the Winchester paused at the entrance of the room.
"You won't bring this up again…will you?" came the barely audible question.
"I…" he looked down at his naked stomach, "No, Dean. Of course not."
And with that answer, Dean stalked off into the night.