Gags
K Hanna Korossy
They only had a few minutes to find Fred and turn off his telekinetic cartoon powers before Dean faced Dr. Mahoney. While Sam had no doubt his brother could handle one middle-aged psychiatrist-turned-thief, Mahoney had a lot more experience with cartoon rules than Dean. Sam had issues with his brother, but he still didn't want Dean squashed by an anvil.
So they really didn't have time for this. But apparently the cartoon zone had other plans.
Castiel started it; Sam always knew the angel had a lot more going on beneath the surface of that stoic frown. He guessed it wasn't that much of a surprise when a thought bubble popped up—literally, scalloped edges, soft white lighting and all—over Cas's head.
I've hid long enough. Maybe Sam has, too.
Sam stopped, staring at Castiel, then at the balloon over his head, which faded out even as he watched. Uh…Cas?
Castiel's gaze flicked over Sam's head, his eyes widening briefly to the size of hubcaps before shrinking back to normal. Not disturbing at all. "Yes?" That's odd.
I can see what he's—you're—thinking, Sam thought. Visibly, as he glanced up to see the fluffy bubble over his head.
As can I.
Great. Or, Great. Let's go find Fred. He took a step, paused again. There's nothing wrong with escape. Crap. He hadn't meant to say—think—that.
Castiel seemed unperturbed, as usual. What about those you hurt with your…escape? Like Dean?
Sam's jaw set as he tried to blank his mind. But his brain answered automatically. Dean's a grown man—I'm not responsible for him. And then, because he thought it, I should stop thinking about this. Uh, la, la, la, la, la…
Castiel frowned.
Which I can only tell because that crease is a little deeper between his—crap. Crap, crap, crap—
"We should find Mr. Jones," Castiel said, clearly looking down with effort from the veritable garden of thought balloons above Sam's head.
He tried to wave a hand at them, but his palm bounced off. Awesome. "Yeah. I'll take the cars on this side, you check that side."
Even as Cas went left, another thought bloomed above his head, and Sam couldn't resist reading. Is that really true that we're not responsible for our loved ones? I was for my brethren. And what about your actions toward others?
Sam made himself turn away. Hopefully, that meant Cas couldn't see his involuntary reaction to the angel's words: I always hurt him, or Amelia, or others…hell, even the whole world. No matter what I do…
A rat scurrying along the wall, stopped to look at him. "That's why it's called penance," it chittered pointedly, then hurried on.
Sam stumbled to a stop, jaw flexing against pure emotion. No words this time, just…ache.
He looked up at the sound of cracking. Just in time to see the candy apple-red heart floating above his head shatter into a dozen pieces that rained down on him like confetti.
"Sam. Over here."
Sam watched the pieces of his broken heart melt on the ground as if they'd never been. Then he turned away and went to go see what Cas had found.
The End