Title: Carry You To Jesus
Author: Indigo Night
Feedback: Yes please
Summary: A late night visit from a certain angel leads to the beginning of something new that could lead to the salvation or the damnation of them both.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters
Spoilers: Through ITGPSW
Pairing: SamxCastiel
Warnings: Slash
Author's Note: Because I just positively adore this pairing, don't ask me why, and there frankly just isn't enough of it out there. Inspired by the scene in ITGPSW where Sam finally gets the meet the angels and Castiel was a butthole to poor Sammy. Titled after the Steven Curtis Chapmen song that I listened to repeatedly while writing it. Quote at the beginning from the episode ITGPSW. Read, Review, Enjoy.
"I thought they'd be… different."
Sam tossed the heavy, ancient volume he was reading away with an aggravated grunt. Dean was out, god knows where, doing god knows what, with god knows who, leaving nothing but a note promising to be back 'later'. The motel room they currently occupied was dirty and way too dimly lit, with only a single thirty-watt bulb, not nearly enough for reading ancient Latin texts on demonology.
His chest ached, decorated in bruises from their most recent hunt (Damn Kigatilik had to go and throw him into a cement wall…), his eyes were sore, and his head was pounding. And yet, despite the fact that it was three in the morning, he could not get to sleep.
"You're up late, Sam Winchester."
Sam jumped and swore, his hand automatically reaching for the nearest weapon. Castiel stood quietly near the door, even though Sam was positive it hadn't opened to let him in.
It had been almost exactly two weeks since Sam had met his first angel, and he hadn't prayed since. It felt strange, after so many years, to now stop the habit. But somehow he had the feeling, that even if he were to pick up the habit again, no body was listening, not to him.
He had felt it, like lava, burning through his veins as he'd faced the two angels in that motel room, and he knew that they must have seen it too, the demon blood that tainted him, made him impure. And here it was again, the same terrible shame that made him back uncertainly away from Castiel, made him unable to look into the angel's eyes.
"Dean isn't here." He said, even though as there was only one room, he was pretty sure Castiel had come to that conclusion on his own. He said it anyway, because frankly, what else was he supposed to say? What reason could an angel possibly have to come see him? No, this was definitely about Dean… unless the angel had come to smite him, a very real possibility, he realized with a sinking heart.
"I know," Castiel said simply.
"Oh, okay…" Sam fumbled awkwardly. Castiel was staring at him, directly at him, with that piercing, all knowing stare that made Sam certain he wasn't really looking at him at all, but inside of him, at every dirty, shameful thing he had ever done, or thought, or had been born to do. "Why are you here then?"
Castiel didn't answer, instead more or less ignoring Sam's question all together. "You've stopped praying." He observed.
"How did you… never mind." He wasn't really sure what to make of that statement. Was the angel reprimanding him, or telling him it was smart to stop wasting his time?
"Have you lost your faith?" Castiel questioned. It was hard to tell, because the angel's emotions didn't seem to translate very well onto his vessel's face, but somehow it seemed as though he was genuinely, almost naïvely, curious.
"No." It was the truth, in fact Sam was now more certain than ever that there was a higher power, after all, he was currently talking to an angel of said being after all.
Castiel just continued to stare at him, crystalline blue eyes questioning, almost as though Sam was some sort of mysterious puzzle he was trying to solve. Obviously, he was waiting for more of an answer.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. The shame was building again, burning its way up to his cheeks in a furious blush, becoming almost unbearable. He could feel those unearthly eyes boring into him again; seeking out his very soul (did he even have a soul? Sometimes he wondered…), shredding away his every defense, leaving him exposed and helpless before the eyes off all that was holy. He felt the powerful, irrational urge to run, to hide, to crawl under the bed and stay there until the angel was gone, yet at the same time he felt frozen where he was.
"Look, just… what do you want?" it came out harsher than Sam had intended, but he was feeling extremely uncomfortable now, on borderline panicked under the angel's increasingly intense gaze. He couldn't resist squirming a little under the scrutiny.
Still, Castiel didn't answer Sam's question, he wasn't even blinking, and Sam was really getting freaked. He was staring at him with such intensity that it was inhuman, he seemed… fascinated, mesmerized somehow. He was leaning forward, very slightly, as if drawn in by Sam's gravitational pull.
Sam, for his part, didn't notice either. He'd moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Castiel, subconsciously leaning closer as well. It felt like the blood was boiling in his veins, the demon blood, the curse he couldn't escape from. And right there, in front of him suddenly he saw not the neatly trimmed accountant in his crisp suit, but the unbearably bright, holy light that possessed him. Castiel's true form. He felt in equal measures horrified and exhilarated.
Some part of his mind started screaming at him that if he could just touch, just one fragment of that radiance the shadow would be purged from his soul; that the demon blood would be scoured from his veins and he would be clean again. He long for it, ached for it, and was terrified of it.
Suddenly, they both realized with a jarring shock that they were positioned just inches from each other, Sam having stood up and now looking down the few inches into the other's face. Both were almost holding their breath, as though balancing on the edge of some precipice, neither knowing what lay at the bottom.
Slowly, Sam raised his hand to Castiel's face, it trembled slightly. But he hesitated, not actually touching the angel. A part of him shrank away, he didn't deserve this, that part tried to tell him, Castiel should be smiting him, not standing before him blinding him with this redemption.
Castiel didn't seem to know what was going on any more than Sam did. He didn't know why he was here himself, he had no business here, his business was with Sam's brother, the half-demon was his concern only by association, his orders were to help Dean, maybe Dean could guide his brother along the right path in the process, but that was it, it wasn't up to him. And yet, here he was.
Maybe… maybe…
God works in mysterious ways.
Slowly, almost in a trance he nodded his assent to Sam, and Sam's hand closed that final gap, cupping his cheek. They were both swept up in a tidal wave of emotions. It was… impossible to describe. Heady and dizzying, terrifying and ecclesiastic all at once.
Before either of them realized it they were on their knee. Sam pressed forward, wanting more contact, needing it. He sealed his lips over Castiel's, tasting the slightly spicy flavor of Castiel's vessel, but at the same time immersing himself into something that no words in any mortal language could describe, pure essence of angel.
Castiel was resistant under his touch, but only mildly. Was he saving Sam Winchester, or loosing himself to temptation? Who would win out in this little battle they'd unknowingly entered into, the angel or the demon?
Right at this moment though, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. He'd never in his long, celestial years felt quite so… human. Maybe that was a bad thing, but of all his father's creations, he'd always loved humans the best, and somehow, this one little human, who wasn't even completely human, was more incredible than anything he'd ever seen before.
He felt something draining out of himself, into Sam, being replaced by something that came from the human. He didn't know what it was. Was he saving Sam Winchester, or simply following him into destruction? Was this what it was like to fall into shadow?
He didn't know. But somehow, as he gave in fully and he found his arms wrapping around him, he found he didn't care. He vowed that he would either save Samuel Winchester, or he would fall with him.