A/N: Thanks for stinking through these. I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July and that it wasn't too hot and that the fireworks were awesome. For this one, I fast forwarded it a bit to take place after "Children are our future" episode. And also, this is where things merge together.
I've been doing some thinking and with all this feedback, and if you want, I've decided to go on. I can easily continue onwards and I've got a rough sketch in my head already. Thing is, I won't be updating like every day. So enjoy this chapter and a little break...think it as an intermission of sorts :)
Chapter 10: Sam and Dean come as a package, that's just a fact of life.
It's a week after the incident with Jesse and despite the tension with Castiel or Dean's downtrodden spirit, Sam feels a bit reassured. To know that some other person, a kid, made the right decision even with destiny saying he was evil, Sam feels a flicker of hope. It's warm feeling he doesn't want to loose.
The tiny click of numbers singles an hour past midnight. On cue, the door cracks open snapping Sam's eyes wide open. He hasn't been able to get a wink of sleep, lying on his bed trying to figure out this mess called the Apocalypse. It doesn't help also that outside a dog's been barking for the past thirty minutes. Curling deep underneath the blanket, he peeks out into the dark and watches quietly as two figures stumble into the room, the door magically closing itself.
"Use the Force, young Skywalker." Dean's voice is slurred, the stench of alcohol slowly diffusing into the air.
"You're drunk, Dean. I believe it's time for you to get the sleep you love to point out about." Castiel's voice is the same as always, but there's an undertone of concern and a dry wit he's never noticed before. Sam watches as Cas readjusts his grip on Dean, arms slung around the upper body gently leading him towards the empty bed with Dean's one arm draped over his shoulder.
Smiling lazy, Dean leans back, halting the pair as eyes roll to the side to send a heated sober glare at the window. The dog snarls are loud, lashing at the windows before subsiding into barking. Dean flinches, shoulders tightening. Sam doesn't miss the way Castiels' own grip tightens on his brother. He can only imagine what it must have been like to see how Cas pulled Dean out the Pit. It's a mystery that only those two know but rarely speak about.
"Stupid hound," Dean's voice is quiet. "Always howling at the chains, never happy even when they get to play with you...licking their lips for a taste of your guts..."
Bile rises in Sam's throat but he pushes it down, face tightening in the discomfort. Castiel sees the unspoken terror of the Hellhound twitching on Dean's face. The angel turns his head, eyes growing distant as he searches for the animal and the reason for the barking.
"It is merely a cat, Dean, nothing to worry about." He answers in the calm, unaffected tone.
Dean tilts his head up, staring deeply into the angel's face. "They ever go after you?" There's a hesitancy in Dean's voice that's new for Sam.
"Yes. It was a sport for the demons when they got wind of our location." There's a tight pain in the angel's voice. He doesn't want to talk about it, a quiet warning to Dean to drop the subject. Cas resumes their journey across the room, the weight of their experiences dragging their feet across the carpet.
"Fox and the hound," mumbles Dean, as Cas drops him on the bed. He bounces twice before collapsing onto the bed, feet dangling over the edge arms spread wide. Castiel looks down at him, head tilting to the side as if trying to determine what to do next. Dean takes care of the problem by knocking his knee against the dress pant leg. "Extra beer and a soda are in the fridge if you want it. Pie sucked today."
Castiel nods his thanks, walking towards the open chair tugging off his mud-caked coat. He gently picks up the shirt, running a hand down it before setting it on the table. Easing slowly into the chair, his shoulders slump as he gingerly slips off the blue jack and tie before unbuttoning the white shirt.
Dean shuffles to the edge of the bed, peering at Cas while trying to remain comfortable while lying down. "You ok?" Taking in every plane of flesh, the older Winchester notices the shirt is bloody and muddy, yet somehow the angel remains clean underneath.
"I am fine," whispers Castiel as he tries to hide the grimace but Dean pounces.
"No, you're not." The words are sharp halting Cas's frame. Rolling off the bed, Dean stumbles slightly over to the table knocking away Cas's hands to open the shirt. In the dim light coming from the parking lot, a dark angry burn stretches ugly across his side. "What the hell, Cas? Did you get electrocuted or something?"
"Zacheriah." It's as close as the angel will give to a full account of his encounter. Castiel bits back a hiss as Dean prods the angry flesh around the wound that is the size of his palm. Shaking his head, the welcoming haze of beer and whisky fading away; Dean turns to rummage through the med-kit.
"That son of a bitch, the next time I-" Anger burns Dean's face as he grabs the Neosporin.
"Dean." Castiel is annoyed at Dean's response, like he doesn't want to be protected or coddled. Sam knows how pointless it is, yet can't help but find this whole situation amusing.
"It'll help with protecting the burn," states Dean in a proud announcer like tone.
"Neosporin: approved for children and angels everywhere," whispers back Cas, his rare humor leaking out reveals how tired he is. He breaks into a huff of laugh, while Dean chuckles quietly.
"You've been hanging around me too much."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"Maybe."
Castiel takes the bottle, pops it open, squeezes a bit out and begins to rub the white gel onto the wound. Watching quietly, Dean fights to remember that Cas is an angel, that underneath soulful eyes and spiky black hair is a creature of awesome power. That this flesh and bone he is touching, is merely a vessel. Sorrow tugs at his heart, for a thought crosses his mind that this right here will not last forever. And it's his entire fault.
Dean steps back pushing away the ill thoughts, as those long fingers tighten the cap back on and gently place the bottle back in the kit. "We'll have to let that dry."
Flopping back onto the bed, he watches with blurry eyes as Cas shakes off his shirt letting the pale parking light outline his smooth, lean figure. Jimmy wasn't much of an athlete, but with Cas now at the helm, the body hints of refined muscles and a fit chest that flexes with a hidden strength.
Reaching out, Cas shakes Dean's pale blue shirt open. "I do not need...mothering Dean, I am not a chicken and neither are you."
Dean's about to smart back, when he catches the faint hint of a smirk, blue eyes mocking at him over the collar of his shirt. "Dude, you must be in a really good mood, two jokes in a row. It must truly be the end of the world."
"Considering I slipped out of my ex superior's sight once again is enough." Cas's voice rumbles like distant thunder in the room, silencing the dog for a brief moment.
Arms raised, head peeking out over the collar, black hair sticking out more ruffled than before, Dean can't help but shake his head as he scoots back towards the headboard, each movement becoming slower as his eyes drift closed. "Very funny, Cas," mutters the older Winchester as exhaustion finally claims him. Head hitting the pillow, Dean's chest begins to rise up and down quietly.
Tugging the shirt down, Castiel makes his quietly over to the fridge. Sam narrows his eyes into slits open enough to peek through, but look like he's fast asleep. Crouching down by the fridge, blue eyes snap up locking themselves on him.
Swallowing back his shock, Sam widens his eyes to relish the fact he is caught. Cas's face seems to soften, the tiny lines around his eyes smoothing out. "We need to talk." The angel's voice is a soft whisper instead of the typical growl. In the background, the dog resumes his barking.
"How about no," whispers back Sam, his voice stinging with venom. He still can feel those eyes judging up at him about how he failed.
Castiel doesn't listen and it makes Sam wonder how the hell Dean can handle this man. "It's about Dean."
Of course it would be. It's always about Dean. He's out of the loop like always and he's fine with it. But there's no-
"He needs you."
That's something Sam never expects to hear coming from Castiel's mouth. He knows the two are close. Dean tends to confide and be brutally honest with the angel than he ever was with Sam unless forced too or finally broke. Shame swells in him as he recalls all the times he's pushed and prodded till Dean told him what was on his mind. And the one time he didn't do it so much, neglected the role of nagging, concerned little brother; Dean sought comfort night after night at the end of a bottle while Hell infected every aspect of who he was.
"Define need." The soft mutter wisps past his lips unintentionally. Castiel surprises him by huffing back, an annoyed glimmer passing over his face. He could almost picture the angel thinking about the stupidity of humans.
"Your brother never stopped thinking about you."
Sam lets a dead grin creep onto his face, but it pauses as Castiel leans further into his space, locking a non-joking stare right into him. A voice full with holy righteousness blazes forth firm quiet words.
"Even apart, everything reminded him of you. Of what you mean to him, of how he failed you. The love is still there, more intensely than before. He's always stood up for you, even while you were drinking blood or about to break the last seal. He chose you over Paradise, Sam Winchester. And even now, he fights not only protect humanity but to prevent you from becoming Lucifer's vessel."
Sam's throat dries, not able to fight the words as the unshaken truth sears into his mind and soul. He knows Castiel is telling the truth, knows from Dean the angel can't lie worth a penny. "Then..."
Castiel licks his chapped lips, shoulder slumping in a shirt that's too massive for him, hinting at the shoulder blades underneath. He tilts his head down, a hooded look falling over his eyes. "I..." a swallow, eyes pinching as the shoulders square off, "need your help."
Sam can't keep the curiosity creeping into his worry. Whatever got the angel to ask for aid must not be good.
Blue flickers up with a dark determined look as if Castiel is crossing a rotting bridge. "Dean."
A frown line darkens Sam's forehead. The angel sure does like his brother's name. "Deah, I get that, what are you-"
The dog's barking grows louder and closer. He must have gotten loose and is now running around in the parking lot. Dean groans across the room, shuffling of sheets hinting at the nightmares plaguing him. The barking stops soundly and the silence following is filled with the chirping of crickets. A tingling feeling washes over Sam and he has a feeling Cas had something to do with the welcomed silence.
Castiel merely tilts his head slightly, straining it to peer over Sam as if making sure Dean is still asleep. And that's when it clicks for Sam. How despite the distance and drive to stop the devil and protect Sam, Dean's driving himself once again into an early grave. It's similar to how Dean was after Dad died and look at how that ended up.
Dean's always had a bit of suicidal streak in him and after everything that happened in the Pit and now with the Apocalypse, Sam's gut twists that Dean might not survive this time. And he needs his brother, needs to fix this rift. Because if he can't fight for this and win, then why bother saying No to Lucifer.
Satisfaction seems to dissipate the high alertness surrounding the angel. Blue eyes gaze back at him and Sam nods in agreement. They can't look after Dean separately; they need to do it together. There needs to a unified front for the eldest brother to fall on before he does anything stupid.
Castiel nods, relief tinging the edges of his eyes, "...thank you...Sam." The words are a ghost as the angel moves from his position, walking slowly back over to Dean's side.
Sam can't fight back the relieved smile himself. He doesn't know why but his heart feels a little lighter, as if in those three words the angel just forgave him. All that hostility of before gone, wiped away with a clean slate. Also, he finds himself glad to know that there is someone else in this world beyond him and Bobby to watch over Dean. The cracking of a chair signals Cas taking his post next to the window. Sam can't do it alone, he knows that now. If anything from the past year taught him, it's to accept genuine help and push beyond the arrogance.
"Cas." Dean's groggy voice rumbles into the air. "Dude."
"You should be quiet Dean, Sam's resting."
"That kid can sleep through a hurricane, look if you're gonna sit there..."
Sam senses an unspoken request and he knows Cas understands. The chair groans as a quiet slip signals the angel kicking off his shoes. Twisting slightly, Sam glances over his shoulder, watching as Castiel settles on the bed next to Dean, who has his back turned to him. The angel tucks the pillow underneath his chin as he stretches out. Sam can't help but think how Cas looks like a big cat instead of some giant bird hybrid.
Dean tries to fight back a yawn. "So...never asked, how are you?"
This time, Sam listens without any reservations.
"Tired." Sam fights back a snort. The angel still hadn't mastered elaborating on things.
Dean presses on, "Where'd you go this time?"
"Venice."
"And...how...was...it..."
"Damp...smelly."
Lying on the bed, eyes drifting back shut, Dean realizes he can't break with this one little thing because he's grown accustomed to feeling Cas's warm presence next to him. How that deep voice wraps around him like a warm blanket. How Cas seems to sing as he paints a story with short words and emotions he can't figure out, yet evokes within Dean with perfection. Eyes closing, the eldest Winchester loses himself to Cas and the beauties of the world, forgetting about the dog or the hellhounds or the rocky relationship he has with Sam.
Rolling slightly closer to Cas, Dean mumbles one last time in agreement, before sleep and exhaustion finally wash over him. Castiel continues to whisper tales as he peers over to see Sam watching them with warm, thankful brown eyes. Gratefulness shines in both their eyes, as a tiny bond of friendship sparks to life.
It might not be as intense and unique, as the one Cas has with Dean, or the respectful and confiding relation Sam has with Bobby. But it's something Sam remembers back in college and any chance he sought for a normal life. The simply form of an acquaintance becoming an ally, but further down the line might evolve into a friend. A true friend, with no hidden agendas, speaks the truth and still has your back.
Because finally, Sam is now part of this strange group he dares to find himself calling family. He and Cas have a little thing that is only between them and it feels right. It's a little thing that might just be one thing out of the many that his brother has with the angel, but it's more precious. It's a little thing that needs to be treasured at all costs.
And this little thing between Sam and Cas is simple.
It's Dean.
A/N: There ya go. Keep an eye out, for the next part and take care :)