Title: Relief
It started sometime after the Apocalypse. Sam hasn't told Dean about it, not wanting to be mocked due to something that sounds so infantile. If it were, say, clowns, Sam wouldn't mind. That's been baggage he's carried around for years; he's used to the playful teasing of that fear.
But this – this is new. Sam can't figure out the moment it showed up, but he knows that it's too sore, too raw, for Dean to start picking at it yet. So he calls on someone else; the only one who's lack of a sense of humour could come in handy.
Castiel.
Dean is in a bar, hustling at pool, and as soon as the Impala drives off, rain starts falling. Sam pays it no mind; he likes the sound of it swishing with passing cars, the tapping of it against the motel's windows – it brings a calmness that is rarely in Sam's life.
The rain gets harder, falling down harsh against the pavement, hitting against the window like grains of rice. Sam turns off the lamp next to his laptop, smoothing his hair out of his eyes quickly. He opens a game of solitaire, trying to calm his quickening pulse.
The sounds increase, and Sam turns to look at the flapping curtain of the window; he'd forgotten to close it all the way. Sam stands, drawing the curtain and that's when he sees it – like a zip line – darting through the sky and scaring Sam so effortlessly that he can barely untangle his fingers from the brown fabric.
The loud crash, like trashcans being thrown violently, follows and Sam's frame jumps inevitably. He's frozen in this spot; trapped between being frightened beyond belief and wanting to hide under a bed or in a closet, and being too afraid to even glance away.
The fear has taken hold of him, fully, completely, irrationally.
The curtain rod creaks a bit, Sam having tugged too hard on them, and he lets go at once. He manages to walk backwards, keeping his eyes on the window – still open – just in case lightning strikes harder, closer, needing to see it even if it makes his skin ache with fear.
Sam bumps into the table he was seated at and knocks his laptop to the ground; even that isn't enough for him to look away. He can't. He just can't.
Another strike of lightning flashes in front of the window. Sam's panting, still backing away without paying attention to the items he knocks over. And then he stops, the bed hitting the back of his legs and forcing him to sit down. The rumbles of thunder sound at the same time as Sam grasps the blanket of his bed for dear life.
Castiel.
Sam can't get his throat to work.
Castiel.
Sam screws his eyes shut, sucking in air with every roar of thunder he knows was preceded by bright, unpredictably sinister lightning.
Castiel!
A flutter of wings resounds in the room and Sam exhales all at once. He keeps his eyes closed, though.
"Sam," Castiel says, already sounding worried.
"Castiel," Sam breathes out, falling back against his bed. Thank God.
"What is the matter, Sam?" Sam can hear Castiel frowning.
"I- I just need some company for a while," Sam says, covering his face with both hands; the staccato of nature is still alive and well outside the motel room.
"I don't understand. Something is frightening you?" Castiel's voice sounds closer, Sam takes comfort in the lack of personal space.
"Yes. Please, Cas," Sam mutters, his hands in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. "Just stay until it stops."
"Until what stops?" Castiel murmurs, his voice booming in spite of it, filling Sam's ears with warmth he didn't know words could.
"The storm," Sam chokes out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to keep the lightning out.
The bed dips, and Sam realizes instantly that Castiel is on the bed next to him. It's already comforting. He reaches a hand out blindly, and Castiel takes it, lacing their fingers until their palms touch.
"Of course, Sam. I will stay with you," Castiel whispers into Sam's ear, brushing his bangs away with his free hand.
"Thank you," Sam murmurs, his eyes cracking open slowly.
Castiel is hovering over him, his eyes bright in the darkness of the room, a hint of a smile on his lips. Like this with Castiel's hand in his own, Sam can only see Castiel, can only feel him getting underneath his skin, can only hear his soft breathing.
There is no lightning, no thunder, no storm –no fear. There is only Castiel, the solidity of him, and the comfort he unknowingly brings. Sam realizes he needs Castiel – like this – forever.
Sam may have thought it too loud, but Castiel doesn't seem affected by it. Sam's heart rate slows down, finally, and he relaxes into the bed, absentmindedly stroking each of Castiel's knuckles. His eyes shut of their own accord; the tension slipping away and being replaced with a calmness he's only ever had in the moments after a storm.
Castiel lets out a shaky breath, one that nearly stirs Sam again, and then lips press against his, slow, hesitant, but deliberate.
"You have me, Sam Winchester," Castiel says, pressing another kiss to Sam's forehead. "Forever."