When Castiel was sent to Earth to keep a troubled Sam Winchester alive, he had no idea he'd fall in love with Sam's older brother.
Part One:
The first time Castiel met Sam Winchester, the young teen was sitting on the dirty, damp floor of JFK High School, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his head buried into his bony knees as he shook with silent sobs. He had observed the boy for awhile prior to this meeting, though he had kept his distance. Now, though, it was time to intervene.
He approached Sam silently, taking in the teen's appearance. Sam's sleeve on his left arm was rolled up and there was red dots marring his skin, angry pink marks beneath them. His clothes were ill-fitting and dirty, his hair slightly oily and his skin pale. Beside him sat a silver blade, blood on the tip, and Castiel carefully slid it away with a foot, which is what got the younger boy's attention.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't think anyone ever came in here."
"I was looking for you."
Sam blinked up at him, morphing quickly from upset and contrite to hardened and strategizing. Clearly, the boy thought Castiel was a threat and needed to be convinced otherwise. Even at 13, Castiel was well aware that the young hunter could defend himself when needed. He held up a hand in a placating gesture, "Not like that; I saw you were upset earlier and I wanted to check on you. Are you alright?"
Castiel, inhabiting the vessel of a 17 year old boy, had indeed been watching Sam in the lunchroom a few hours prior. The younger boy had talked to his brother for a moment, the angel observing neither boy had a meal from home nor bought one from the cafeteria. Their discussion had apparently gotten heated, because Sam had stormed off with a look of utter discontent on his face and Dean had stayed behind with his friends, sending a one-finger gesture to his brother's back once he had started walking away. Dean had left the cafeteria moments later, which seemed like an open invitation for several other known bullies on campus to begin taunting the younger boy. Sam had run off, and now here they were.
"I'm fine." Sam replied quietly, subtlety pulling down his sleeve to cover the marks on his arm as he answered, "Thanks for your concern, but I'm good."
"Do most people who are fine cry on the bathroom floor?" Castiel questioned gently, "You don't have to talk to me about it, but I want to make sure you at least get home safely." He carefully took Sam's hand into his own and pulled lightly to encourage the younger boy to stand.
"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at Castiel with an expression mixed between confusion and distrust, "You don't even know me."
"Perhaps I would like to get to know you." Castiel replied quietly, strategizing on the best approach to take with the skeptical boy, "I began attending this school only this week and have yet to form any friendships. You look like you could use a friend, it would be mutually beneficial for each of us."
"You just moved here?" Sam asked, his curiosity piqued by the revelation, "So did I. I transferred here last Thursday."
"My first day was Monday."
"Is it your first time moving to a new school? They're all pretty much the same; my family moves around a lot, I've been to probably a hundred schools over the years. Not much changes from place to place." Sam offered, "I can't wait until college, when I can settle down somewhere and stay there for years."
"It must be hard, changing schools all of the time." Castiel replied, relieved that Sam had now pulled himself to his feet and was engaging in conversation, especially conversation about the future. The young boy had been suffering with worsening depression for months and Castiel's superiors were concerned he'd meet a tragic end before he had fulfilled his adult destiny. They had sent him down to prevent the teen's inevitable death should he continue on this pathway.
Castiel had been confused when they had told him who his young charge would be; it was general knowledge that Sam Winchester was one of the children tainted with demon blood, one of the children with the potential to unleash evil upon the world with sinister demonic powers. If the elders were to be believed, it was Sam Winchester himself who would later be responsible for unleashing Lucifer from his cage and starting the apocalypse.
It was hard to think that this child, broken and on edge, harming himself in the high school bathroom, was capable of unleashing evil on anything except himself. Still, he had a mission and he wasn't going to back down. If they said Sam Winchester needed to be protected and set on a path of healing, it was his duty to make it so. It wasn't as if the young Winchester boy had done anything abhorrent yet, he was still a child with no blemishes on his soul, and he desperately needed some divine intervention.
Sam glanced down at his shoes after Castiel's statement, shrugging slightly, "It sucks, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"At least you have your brother."
Sam looked up, forehead crinkled in confusion, "How do you know I have a brother?"
"He's your brother, right?" Castiel replied, realizing he had mistakenly tapped into his own stored information about the Winchesters instead of letting the boy open up, "I saw you two in the cafeteria, arguing. Your interaction...you two seemed like you were brothers and not friends. I'm sorry if I'm mistaken. I come from a large family, I recognized the tension that can only come from a brotherly dispute."
"No, he's my brother." Sam replied, relaxing a bit with Castiel's explanation and muttering under his breath, "the jerk."
Castiel reached down and picked up Sam's backpack, offering it to the younger student as he went to open the door, "Do you two fight often?"
"No, hardly ever." Sam replied with a hint of a smile as he thought about Dean, "He's pretty awesome. My Dad works a lot, so it's mostly just us. Do you get along with your brothers and sisters?"
"Most of the time, yes. My father has a lot of rules and doesn't approve of discontent between us." They exited the bathroom and Castiel noticed the hallways were completely empty. Apparently they had been talking longer than he thought, since the last bell had rang just moments before he had gone in after Sam.
Sam nodded, not having much to say on the subject of parents. He had never known his mother and he and his father weren't close, nor did his father care about 'discontent', as long as they didn't interfere with whatever he was doing.
They walked down the hallway, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridor, and had nearly reached the door when it flew open to reveal Dean. Sam startled at the sudden intrusion and then froze, a wave of shame and self-loathing rolling through him as he realized for the first time that they were alone and that Dean had probably been waiting for him and, judging by the rare look of panic on Dean's face, worrying.
"Dean...I'm sorry." Sam said hurriedly, trying to do damage control as Dean's expression changed from concern to anger, "I lost track of time, I didn't mean to make you wait."
"You lost track of time?" Dean repeated, his voice raising in fury, "How do you lose track of time, Sam? The bell rings, you walk to the car. Every. Fucking. Day. What the hell is your problem today?"
"I said I was sorry." Sam repeated quietly, his right hand subtly snaking around his left wrist, fingernails digging into the already marked skin, "I had to go to the bathroom, and then I ran into-"
"You on the rag or something? Couldn't hold it until we got home? I thought something had happened! I-"
"It's my fault," Castiel interrupted, "I bumped into Sam and was talking to him. He was on his way to find you when he realized the time."
"Who are you?" Dean questioned abruptly, gauging the truth in the stranger's story by studying Sam to see his reaction. He was hungry and tired, the grocery money running out days ago and Dean hadn't been able to find a job yet, leaving the two boys irritable from the lack of food. He really didn't have the time or energy to play twenty question with the kid who had distracted Sam from his other obligations, namely, heading home to work on research for their Dad's hunt.
"Castiel. I'm a friend of your brother's."
"Sam doesn't have friends."
"Obviously he does."
"New friend." Sam supplied, anticipating the aneurysm Dean was working towards after hearing Castiel imply there was something about Sam that Dean didn't know. Dean prided himself on knowing every detail about Sam's life, and Sam let Dean believe he knew all of his brother's secrets, which was why he was releasing his frustration with a broken razor in the boys' bathroom instead of at the hotel, where there was a higher chance of being busted by his older brother.
Dean eyed Castiel for a moment, unsure of what to think about the other boy, and then motioned for Sam follow him, "Speed it up, dude, Dad's home and he's going to take us out to dinner."
Sam's stomach grumbled with a mixture of hunger and dread. He was thrilled to know they'd have food to eat after several days without, but he rarely was able to muster up the excitement to have to spend quality time with their father. Hunger won out, though, and he gave Dean a small smile, "Like, to a restaurant? Or a gas station?"
"Restaurant. He's just waiting on us, slowpoke." Dean's expression also gave way to a smile, unable to stay angry when his kid brother was starting to cheer up from the sullen, moody kid he had been lately.
Sam took a step towards Dean, but then turned back to Castiel with a hopeful expression, "Talk to you tomorrow?"
"I will be here, Sam." Castiel responded reassuringly, pleased that it didn't seem like it would take a lot of persuasion for Sam to let him in, "Have a pleasant dinner."
"Thanks. Bye!"
Sam hurried off after Dean, who had already taken a few steps in the opposite direction, clearly ready to go whether Sam was wanting to chat with a friend or not. He easily caught up, despite his brother's height and leg-length advantage. Trying to be casual, though the hint of hopefulness was evident to both of them, he asked, "So...what did you think of Castiel?"
Because if Dean thought the kid was bad news, Sam would have no choice but to avoid him, and Sam was severely lacking in the friend department.
"He seems okay. A little weird, but not psycho weird. Formal-weird. I bet his parents are really old and stuffy."
"He said he has a big family...if he's youngest, maybe that's why; his parents would have to be old." Sam shrugged, "Think Dad would mind if I invited him over to hang out this weekend?"
"I don't even know if we'll be here this weekend, Sammy...we may get to dinner and he may tell us that we're taking off tonight. You never know. Sorry, bro."
Sam scowled, but refrained from commenting. He hated everything about their nomadic hunting lifestyle, but he was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of complaining, tired of moving, tired of being the new kid, tired of life in general. Complaining now would just put Dean on edge and preparing to mediate a fight between Sam and their dad, and Sam was too tired to put in the effort.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Dean added, "But if we are still around, you can invite him over to hang out. Maybe we can go grab a burger or a movie and hang out, or chill at the hotel if Dad's gone again."
Sam smiled in response, his head held a little higher as they approached the car. Sometimes it amazed him how well Dean read his thoughts. He was just relieved that Dean's mind-reading super power didn't include certain coping methods Sam had resorted to lately, because if Dean found out he'd been hurting himself, he'd never hear the end of it.
xxxx
The diner was relatively empty, which was one of the reasons John Winchester usually dragged the boys to dinner at four in the afternoon, though Dean suspected it also had to do with killing two birds with one stone, since there was no time for them to rummage for snacks after school if it was already dinner time. He glanced at his brother, who had been sullen and quiet for the majority of the ride, not that sullen and moody was unusual for the boy. Even though their father had been gone for over a week, since an hour after they pulled up to the crappy LessPay Motel from 37 hours on the road, Sam and John had exchanged minimal words upon meeting, and since then, John had been recapping the case for Dean while basically ignoring the youngest Winchester. Dean had a feeling that Sam didn't mind the lack of attention at all.
"Oh, Thank God!" Dean exclaimed as the food arrived, eyeing his double cheeseburger and onion rings with love, "Man, I'm starving!"
John had the decency to look ashamed for being gone so long without adequately providing for his children, though he didn't offer an apology and instead picked up his own burger. By the time he had made it a third of the way through his meal, both boys had cleaned their plates and Dean was scoping out the dessert menu eagerly.
He watched them for a moment; Dean, full of restless energy and spirit, always finding something to talk about or joke about. Sam, brooding and listless, much different from the equally bubbly boy he had been only a year ago. It seemed like an eternity, a different lifetime, since moody Sam seemed to try every last ounce of John's patience and darken most memories with the current snark and defiant attitude. They were growing boys and he had made so many mistakes with them; forcing Dean to raise his brother in his absence, moving them from city to city, state to state, sometimes failing to provide their most basic needs. Even now, Sam was in ratty clothing that desperately needed to be replaced and Dean's latest growth spurt left him with jeans too short and shoes so stretched that he could see his oldest child's toe poking through. A scolding remark about upkeep of their belongings was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. If they couldn't afford food in his absence, they certainly couldn't afford a trip to the thrift store. Dean had been known to lift whatever was needed in the past, but after getting busted and being sent to the boys home, Dean was very careful to not take the five finger discount.
"Dean, let me out." Sam murmured quietly but urgently, nudging Dean to get his brother to move so he could leave the booth, "Hurry."
"What?"
"Move!"
Dean slid out of the booth and Sam scooted over to follow suit, but as he struggled to his feet, a powerful wave of nausea surged through him and he gagged loudly, chunky liquid burning his throat and trying to escape.
"Woah, dude!" Dean reacted, reaching over to steady his brother and then forcing him towards the restrooms, "We'll be right back, Dad."
Sam was well-aware of the entire diner staring at him as Dean propelled him towards the mens' room, and as soon as he was in the general vicinity of the toilet, he was losing his burger and fries, his whole body aching with every violent heave.
"When did you start feeling sick?" Dean asked, concern evident in his voice, "If I had known you weren't feeling good, we could have skipped all of this and headed back to the hotel."
"I don't feel sick, at least, I wasn't feeling sick. I think I just ate too much."
The realization hit Dean like a ton of bricks. This had happened before, the last time they'd gone more than just a day or two with no rations to hold them over. He should have remembered to slowly transition his little brother back to solids with soups or broths, that for some reason Sam's stomach wasn't able to tolerate a heavy meal after being empty for so long.
Sam vomited again, his entire body straining with each heave, and he moaned, "Dad's going to be so angry."
"This is all on him, Sammy." Dean replied, "He didn't leave us with a means for food, which makes this completely on him. I'm sorry I didn't think ahead that this might happen."
"It's not on you, it's on Dad, remember?" Sam asked between miserable heaves, "God, make it stop."
The bathroom door creaked open and John called out, "Everything okay in here, boys?"
His response was a round of violent dry heaving from his youngest, leaving John with a frown, "That good, huh?"
"I should have given him something lighter to start with." Dean told their father with a scowl, "I forgot how sensitive his stomach can be when he hasn't eaten in awhile. He'll be okay in just a few minutes."
After only a few minutes, the puking stopped and Sam leaned back against Dean, who had been squatting with an arm supporting his brother, "Sorry, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, dude." Dean reassured, grimacing at the mess the kid had made, "You need a clean shirt. Dad, can you see if we have something in the trunk? Come on, Sammy, arms up so we can clean you up."
"No." Sam moaned, hugging himself and shutting his eyes tightly. He couldn't take off his shirt or Dean would see the cuts. He didn't want to be the center of attention, especially in a position this embarrassing. He wanted the floor to open and swallow him and take him away from this moment. "I'm...just….no. I want to go back to the hotel."
"You're a mess, Sam-"
"Dad, please." Sam begged, horrified to find his eyes misting slightly, "Can we just pretend this didn't happen? I'm fine."
Against the better judgement of both Dean and John, they relented and let Sam have his way. Cleaning up as best as he could with paper towels, Sam hurriedly tried to restore his appearance so they could leave. John exited first, not having patience nor desire to hang out with a sick, filthy kid and told the boys to meet him outside. Once Dean was absolutely certain Sam wasn't in danger of getting sick again, he led his brother out of the bathroom, shielding him from the few stares of the other patrons. They made it to the front door when they, quite literally, bumped into Castiel.
"Christ, man, I didn't see you, sorry." Dean apologized to the boy he had met just hours earlier.
Castiel smiled at the older boy, "It's quite alright, no harm done." he turned his attention to the younger boy, "You are unwell."
"I'm fine." Sam replied automatically, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, "I'm just an idiot."
"I'm certain you're no idiot." Castiel replied kindly, "Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"
Sam shook his head, still flushed and refusing to meet Castiel's gaze, and he murmured, "I'll be fine. See you tomorrow at school."
"Bye, Sam and Dean. Goodnight."
Dean led Sam to the car, but glanced over his shoulder, feeling slightly uneasy as he noticed Castiel staring at them every step of the day. He didn't feel threatened, but there was no denying that kid was strange. Dean chuckled slightly, glancing down at his brother; apparently weird attracted weird. He would keep an eye on the other boy, though, just in case. He didn't like it when people took an interest in his brother, good intentions or not. And there was just something about Castiel….he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was definitely something odd happening.
xxx
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