SAM WINCHESTER, HUNTER EXTRAORDINAIRE AND SELF-PROCLAIMED KING OF RESEARCH SPEAKS: On the subject of REAL ANGELS.
They're dicks.
No, really.
Of course, he doesn't mean those cute, cheerful mini-cherubs with wings, or the chicks with the translucent skin and loads of golden hair. The closest he got to either category was Gabriel, and wasn't that an experience of a lifetime. He means the REAL ANGELS, who in fact exist away from the realm of fantasy and oh, yeah, are total dicks.
But you know that already.
So as not to sound like a bitch rant, Sam will proceed to prove to you (with actual proof instead of a gruff "it's out there 'cause I say so" comeback that defined his entire childhood.) that REAL ANGELS suck big time.
Why, you ask? We'll get to that later.
For one thing, REAL ANGELS have severe Daddy issues. Which is fine and all (after all, He can't be perfect. Wait. He so totally can.) because Sam's been down that road a few times himself, but even he can't say that he nearly wiped out all the new kids in the block just because Dad liked them better. Unlike Sam, they can't seem to get that dads are like that, that there always will be something more worthy of his attention. As a result, there's a lot of acts of bitchy self-righteousness (exhibit A: the Almost-Apocalypse) and Sam always ends up either doing the wrong thing or getting fried for thinking of doing the right thing.
On the other hand, REAL ANGELS have a lot of wacky and unpleasant habits that Sam never got to call them out on, like their screwy moral compasses and total lack of understanding when it came to the subject of personal space. Because seriously, his life is creepy enough without having some Soldier of Heaven breathing down his neck. And did he mention that they nearly all used this ridiculously flowery cologne? No kidding. Some days, sparring with a Messenger of the Lord feels even wronger than usual, like Sam was picking a fight with a Powerpuff Girl.
He once considered asking Dean after Cas had disappeared in a swish of faint jasmine, and he supposed that that was when the real problems started.
At the time, Dean just kind of snarled (of course he would, Sam reasoned. Dean lived in an epically black-and-white life) and said "if he's cheating..."
And he let it hang there, and Sam forgot all about the almost-threat that made zero sense anyway.
Thanks to his super-hunter senses, Dean became irrationally obsessed with figuring out whether Cas really used perfume. For a while, Sam was busy congratulating himself on detecting something even Dean had so obviously missed to actually notice that Dean's behavior around Cas became even more weirder than usual. But eventually, he realized that the silences when he was happily oblivious to the world in his happy place, were actually beyond awkward for the two of them. Cas would stare out the window while Dean would flip channels on the TV with this resolute expression on his face. Of course, if he didn't have near-superhuman powers of observation, it wouldn't have struck him: his brother and the resident winged wonder were totally gay for each other.
Which was, sure, pretty weird, but Dean was his brother and whatever he said goes (See? Sam's an awesome little brother, he really is)
So he took this fun fact in stride, and like any hunter, planned his next move.
After a couple of dating tips from Jo ("You really didn't see it coming? Where have you been?") Sam cracked a master plan that led to Dean and Cas alone in a motel room with the entire friggin' Enochian alphabet on its walls one Friday night, while he cruised around in the Impala.
After giving them what he thought was appropriate seducing time (which, by the way, was a thought that scarred his mind forever and possibly would make his offspring retarded) he burst back into the room cautiously, only to have Cas swear a blue streak at him in three different languages Sam wasn't sure that were still spoken on Earth and storm out without a further word.
Which proved beyond doubt what dicks REAL ANGELS were.
Even Dean was silent for the next couple of weeks, seeming to be continuously distracted. Sam felt sorry for the guy, so he chatted up a couple of pretty co-eds only to have Dean smile a million-watter at them and say "Not tonight, girls."
Just as Sam was about to confront Dean about being hung-over about a winged asshole, the older Winchester asked him a random question.
"If you thought Jess was cheating, but found out she wasn't after you acted like a dick to her, what would you do?"
Sam mulled it over. As far as he knew, Dean hadn't cheated on...anyone lately. Maybe he had a secret fling with some sweet waitress and had broken her heart.
It was a long shot, but Sam knew from experience that the most unlikely case scenario was usually the one that took place.
So he gave his brother an honest answer. "I'd apologize. Maybe do something romantic."
At this, Dean had snorted and muttered something about pansy dorks, and Sam had ignored him.
Dean slipped into yet another of his silences the next week, and Sam kept a distracted eye on him. Castiel's visits became infrequent, and whenever he did show up, Sam gave him a dirty look he'd perfected at the age of six.
It was all slowly going downhill, and Sam was beginning to think that he'd been wrong about the blockbuster gay romance going on under his roof, when Sam popped out to grab a coffee one fine morning and came back to see his brother's hand wrapped around Castiel's cock, while the angel moaned with his head thrown back.
Needless to say, swears were uttered and breakfast was thrown up while Cas checked his forehead with a concerned expression. The fact that he did this while half-naked (why the trench coat? Why?) and still hard for Dean made Sam hurl all over again.
After that, they'd kind of shooed Sam away, Dean with an apologetic face that said dude, I'll explain later. Sam made the you better face and let himself be shepherded out, confused and still a bit nauseated.
And that was how Sam ended up alone in a diner, concluding that Cas had definitely screwed with Dean's brain, and only the very real possibility of being blinded for life keeping him from busting in and pulling Dean out.
A few minutes later, his phone beeped.
Dude, best advice ever.-Dean
Yes, definitely brainwashed.
Thus concluding that REAL ANGELS were definitely dicks.
He had to ask Dean later about the flowery scent, though.
Author's note: Is it just me, or has the part of my brain responsible for insanity gone into overdrive? Can't tell. It's three in the morning, what do you expect?
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