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Heaven
"Yes, but did you finish the transfusion?" Gadreel asked.
Castiel lowered his head.
"Castiel!" Gadreel scolded in a hushed voice. "You managed to ward yourself against nearly every creature known, and yet the local police were able to find you and interfere?"
"To smite them would have drawn too much attention from Heaven." Castiel said.
"Agreed. But could you not have devised a different plan?"
Castiel paced in front of the cell.
"And now he is living with the vessel of Michael?" Gadreel asked.
"Yes. I know. This was not the plan, but then the plan never would have worked would it?"
Gadreel sighed.
"I filtered his blood multiple times and yet traces of demonic agents continued to develop. You said nothing of this…defect."
Gadreel stood and paced in his cell. There wasn't much he could do from a locked cell in Heaven's prison. His intel was a bit limited.
"Perhaps it is better this way," Castiel concluded, "better to let the Winchesters live out their destiny. Play their roles."
"Do you really believe that brother?" Gadreel asked.
"What I believe is what I have always believed, it is not my place to question my orders…unlike some." Castiel stood a little taller. "It was foolish of me to believe that I could alter that which is destine to occur. The Winchesters will continue on their course and everything will go according to the plan."
Castiel made his way to the exit of the room.
"You will regret this." Gadreel called after him. "It seems that unless Sam Winchester is nothing more than a memory and a scattered lot of molecules, the demons will have their way with him. Lucifer will rise."
"You are wrong." Castiel said, turning on his heels. He spoke in a whisper, unsure of who might be trying to listen in on the conversation. "Not only would his physical matter require destruction, his particles and his soul would need to be contained, locked in either the depths of hell or the prisons of heaven."
Gadreel tilted his head, an idea forming, "it could be done."
"No." Castiel said. "No more of your deceit."
SPN
"You thought it would be a good idea to just let a girl into his room and then close the door?" Dean asked as he pulled on a cotton t-shirt that he slept in.
Robin shrugged and folded down the covers.
"You do know that he's a teenage boy. Right?" Dean was trying to keep his voice steady and not let on how concerned he was.
"Yes. I think I'm pretty aware that your brother is a teenage boy. I also know that he's a good kid." Robin smiled and slipped under the covers.
"You don't know that." Dean said climbing in after her.
"I can tell." Robin said. "He's good…then again. He is your brother soo…"
"What are you trying to say?" Dean asked with a smile as he switched off his bedside lamp.
"I think you can remember some of the trouble you got us into behind closed doors." Robin said with a sly grin.
"I got us into? It was all me?" Dean said pulling his wife closer to him.
"Well, maybe not all…" Robin giggled.
This has to be one of the deepest levels of hell, Sam thought to himself as he pushed his pillow up against his ears. From his bedroom across the hall he couldn't hear any conversation between Dean and Robin, but he could hear…other things. Things he did not want to hear. Apparently his brother didn't realize how thin the walls were in his little house.
Sam was early to school the next morning. Not because he was anxious to socialize, but because he needed some information. Soon he was on the phone, using the manliest voice he could muster. It only took a few calls.
The last call he made was to Uncle Bobby.
"Hello?" Bobby answered on his personal line.
"Hey Uncle Bobby, it's Sam."
"Sam," the name was said with a mix of love, worry, and excitement. "How you been boy?"
"I'm alive."
"Good to know." Bobby let out a long sigh, "You'd be surprised at some of the rumors they're running about you and your daddy in Hunters Quarterly."
Sam could hear Bobby's smile through the phone.
"Dad's dead." Sam said.
Silence on Bobby's end. Sam knew Bobby wasn't exactly the president of the John Winchester fan club, but he also knew that Bobby would never berate a dead man.
"You holding up?" Bobby asked after a minute.
"Suppose so." Sam sucked in a gulp of air. He still had mixed emotions when it came to his dad, and he probably always would. No amount of talk therapy with Dr. Wright could fix that relationship. After Dean abandoned them, John had nothing better to do than fixate on his two obsessions: finding the thing that killed Mary, and turning Sam into a mini version of himself. Neither of those obsessions ever fully came to pass.
"You coming to the Salvage yard? I can make up your old room."
"I wish I could." That was no lie or flattery.
"Why can't you?"
"I'm uh…the authorities, they found him." Sam still struggled with his brother's name, the name that had been treated as a curse word for so many years, "Dean. They found…Dean. So, he's my legal guardian."
"Oh." Bobby said, unsure of what else to add to that.
"Yeah."
"Well?" Bobby asked.
"Well what?"
"How is that working?"
"It's not." Sam sighed, "But there's not a lot I can do about that."
"Oh really? You couldn't maybe…talk with him. Tell him how you feel?"
"You're worse than my shrink." Sam said with a little laugh.
"Shrink?"
Sam rolled his eyes, he hadn't meant to disclose that bit information.
"Yeah well, I guess this gets me to my next point of discussion. I don't know how much you heard, but uh, things got real weird real fast after the last hunt with my dad. Long story short, the cops found me tied down in a warehouse, they thought it was my dad who was bleeding me dry, but it wasn't…at least, well there was somebody else there. Someone or something that had my dad under some kind of trance or something I don't know. All I know is my dad was calling this monster Castiel." Sam felt a chill run down his spine as he spoke the name.
"Castiel?" Bobby asked trying to keep his emotions in check and focus on the facts Sam was feeding him.
"Yeah, and there were all these crazy symbols and sigils on the walls and windows. Stuff I've never seen before. I don't remember exactly what they look like but I made a few calls and the crime scene photos should be showing up at your place in a few days. I thought maybe you could – "
"I'll see what I can find on them." Bobby promised.
"Thanks." Sam smiled; he could always count on Uncle Bobby.
"If there is anything else I can do you for Sam…"
"Yeah, I'll let you know. Really this is all that matters right now. This Castiel thing vanished before the cops raided the place, so I just need to know what he is and –" Sam lowered his voice, "and how to kill it."
"I'm on it." Bobby said. He didn't like the idea of another Winchester starting down the path of vengeance, but he also knew that once a Winchester got hold of an idea, he didn't budge.
The bell rang out overhead.
"What was that?" Bobby asked.
"Bell."
"I know that you idjit."
"I'm going to school. It's a school bell."
"Well I guess I better let you go then." Bobby said; he was beaming. He loved the idea of Sam in a real school. "I'll let you know what I get from those photos."
"Thanks."
The first part of the day was relatively smooth. Only a few little comments from Carson in English. No big deal. Lunch was next. Today Sam's goal was to make it through the entire lunch block without any drama.
"Would it be weird if I started wearing flannel too?" Nina asked as she slid into her seat across from Sam at the lunch table.
"Um?"
"I mean I wouldn't do it like to copy you or anything. It just looks really comfy. Is it comfy?"
"I guess." Sam offered.
"Yeah, fashion sense isn't really my strongest character point. I just do what feels comfy. Like that uh," Nina stopped talking to mouth the words 'trench coat.' She cleared her throat and continued, "I just wear it because it's comfy and it's long enough to cover up an entire outfit. I mean I could walk around wearing a clown suit or a cocktail dress or I could even be naked under that thing and nobody would know. But it's cool. I won't wear it again. Anyways, enough about me. What's it like living with your older brother and his wife?"
Sam gave Nina a puzzled expression.
"Robin told me that you and Dean are brothers." Nina explained.
"What else did she say?" Sam asked.
"Nothing." Nina took a few bites of lunch, "Well I mean she said you were cool, like nice and funny."
"She said that?" Sam asked with a little smile.
"Yeah. Robin is great. Dean seems cool too, I don't really know him but my older sister has had a little crush on him since he moved here. He was like the cool mysterious James Dean kind of guy I guess. I'll never forget how bummed my sister was when Dean took Robin to that school dance. I think that's when she knew she didn't stand a chance. I mean they even made "cutest couple" in the yearbook. They're like the Sonny and Cher of Hurleyville…except totally inseparable. How do I always end up doing all the talking in our conversations?" Nina stopped to eat more.
The bell rang and the cafeteria turned into a room of chaos.
"You can just walk with me if you want." Nina offered. "We have class together. Chemistry. Again, not a stalker, it was on your schedule, which I had to read to give you your stuff back."
Sam nodded. He liked having a friend.
Upon entering the chemistry classroom Sam let out an exasperated sigh. Carson. Really? He couldn't escape this punk.
"Hey, look it's Frankie!" Carson called out with a smug look on his face.
Mr. Mendez, the science teacher looked genuinely confused.
"Is that the name you prefer going by?" Mr. Mendez asked, looking down at his class roster.
"No. My name is Sam Winchester."
"Ok, yeah that's what I have here." Mr. Mendez said, happy to be back on the right track. "Class this is Sam Winchester, he's new here so let's all be welcoming."
"Hey, seat's open over here." Carson said.
"Thank you, Carson," Mr. Mendez pointed Sam over to Carson's lab table. "Looks like you can work with Carson today."
Sam took a seat at the table next to Carson. Great. Just great.
Mr. Mendez explained the assignment and turned the students loose to conduct the lab experiment.
"Hey, what happens when you set Frankenstein on fire?" Carson asked with a laugh as he pushed Sam's sleeved arm down over the open flame. Within seconds Sam's flannel was ablaze. Students backed away in shock and fear. Sam frantically searched for something to put the fire out while Nina hysterically screamed for Sam to take off his outer layer. Mr. Mendez ran for the fire extinguisher, but he had never used one and was trying to read the instructions and follow the diagrams.
The heat was too much and the flames had climbed up his arm and onto his shoulder. Sam finally came to the conclusion that he needed to shed the flannel, but it wasn't enough, his black t-shirt was also under attack. He whipped it off. The shirt hit the ground and he stomped the fire out.
Once the flames were extinguished the student's attention turned to Sam's exposed upper body. Not only did he have his lovely stitch work to display, he also had an array of cuts, scars, and bruises. There was a particularly repulsive mess of bruises over his ribcage. Purple, black, blue, green. And for those with a view from behind, there was a large burn mark covering the lower half of his back.
After Nina took a second to get over the initial shock, she pulled her jacket off from around her waist and thrust it into Sam's hands.
Sam didn't care that it was purple. He also didn't care about the fact that when he put it on and zipped it up it didn't fully cover his torso. He was mostly covered and that was all that mattered.
"Well," Mr. Mendez said, wiping sweat off of his brow. "Well class, let's uh –" The bell cut him off and the students started packing up their bags, but their focus was still on Sam. It was like they were trying to use x-ray vision to see through the purple jacket and back at his mutilated body.
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Sam burst through the front door and strode towards his room.
"Hey," Dean said, "what's with the purple jacket?"
"Nothing," Sam called back as he entered his room. He closed the door behind him and shut his eyes. Trying to shut out the memory of the day he'd just endured. Then he opened his eyes. His room. It was different. The crib and rocking chair were gone; his couch bed was also missing. Sam opened the door and went back to where Dean was sitting in the living room.
"Where's my furniture?" Sam asked.
"I'll tell you as soon as you tell me when it became cool to dress like that." Dean said with a little smirk.
"Don't want to talk about it." Sam said plopping down on the opposite end of the couch. He'd found the couch bed.
"Ok. Well, I figured you might want to make your room…more yours."
Sam looked at Dean confused.
"I remember how hard it was, moving from motel to motel." Dean could see Sam grow visibly tense. He didn't like when the past was brought up. "Well, anyways, I always dreamed of what I'd do with my own room. Not a motel room, or a room at Uncle Bobby's or Pastor Jim's. I thought maybe you'd like your own room too. Garage was real slow today, and there's a sale on paint down at the hardware store."
Sam nodded. He could see where Dean was going with this.
"And then maybe we could swing by the furniture store and see if there's anything you need. We can even get you a waterbed if that's still what you like." Dean said.
Sam almost laughed. He couldn't believe Dean remembered that. Sam must have been about eight when he saw a waterbed for the first time. He was so excited about it.
...
"What are we doing here Dean?" Sam asked as they strolled down the isles of the mattress store. "Why couldn't we just go in that other store with Dad?"
"Why do you have to ask so many stupid questions Sam?" Dean asked with a glum expression. He wasn't exactly thrilled about killing time in the mattress store either but Dad had told him to stay there until he was done talking to a friend in the next store over in the dumpy shopping center. Dean wasn't stupid. He knew his dad was gathering information for a case he was planning on working. Shapeshifter, that was Dean's guess, but he hadn't been filled in yet.
"My teacher said that there is no such thing as a stupid question." Sam retorted.
"Yeah, well your teacher is a liar." Dean shot back. Usually he would humor his brother and answer a few of his questions, but today he wasn't feeling it.
"Wow! Dean. Look at that bed!" Sam nearly shrieked as he ran towards a bed that was slightly bouncing. Sam pushed down on the mattress and watched it bounce around.
"What's inside it!?" Sam asked looking up with wide eyes and a huge grin.
"Jell-o." Dean answered with a straight face.
"No way! A jell-o bed? That's the coolest thing ever!" Sam pressed down on the waterbed again. "Wait. How do you keep the jell-o from getting all old and gross?"
"You have to keep on making fresh batches of jell-o ever couple of weeks. It's a real nightmare." Deans sour mood was changing into delight as he watched Sam's face twist in confusion.
"Why would anyone want this bed then?" Sam asked. "That sounds like a lot of work."
"Well, Sammy, some people really love their jell-o. In fact most of the people who buy this type of bed are really really fat and they like it because in the middle of the night they can just reach down into their mattress and get a little midnight snack." Dean was trying to keep a serious face on but he slipped up and let a smile loose.
"You liar!" Sam punched his brother's arm. "This isn't full of jell-o!"
Dean looked down at Sam's face and couldn't hold it in. He burst out laughing.
"I can't believe you bought that!" Dean said.
Sam wanted to be angry at Dean for fooling him but Dean's laugh was contagious and he couldn't help joining in.
"A jell-o bed…" Sam laughed. "Maybe the people who are on a diet put sugar free jell-o in their beds."
"Sugar free!" Dean laughed. It felt good. Once their laughing subsided Dean sat down on the edge of the waterbed.
"So is there just water inside?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded.
"That's still pretty cool. You would feel like a person lost out at sea or something I bet." Sam got a far away look in his eyes. "Like there wasn't any land, or road, or dirty hotels or bullies, or anything for miles."
"Why would you want to fall asleep feeling like you were lost at sea?"
"Might just be nice." Sam shrugged. Might be nice to get away from his crappy childhood.
...
Thinking about that day in the mattress store, Sam smiled. He actually smiled, teeth exposed, dimples in full force. Dean felt like his heart was literally warming up. He hadn't seen that smile in years. He missed that smile. Right then he promised himself that he would see it again, and he would see it often. All he wanted was for Sam to be happy, to finally be happy.
The trip to the hardware store didn't take long. Sam found what he wanted right away. The whitest white possible.
"White?" Dean asked. "Out of every color possible you want white?"
"Yeah." Sam said, and that was the only explanation he was giving. He had his reasons. He had his fill of ugly wallpaper and mysterious stains on colored motel walls. With white walls his room would be clean.
Next up was the trip to the furniture store. With some urging from Dean, Sam selected a desk and chair as well as a bed. It wasn't a waterbed, Sam had grown out of that phase, but it was very comfortable and long enough that his feet wouldn't hang over the edge. Dean arranged to have the furniture delivered later that night.
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A little Sam and Dean bonding coming up next...
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