The suited man sighed and rolled his eyes. It was an all too familiar situation.
'How touching of you to say. You're going to regret this Samuel. Especially after you've had a taste of your own medicine. I'll give Alistair the message that you won't be joining him quite yet. But I'm sure you'll give in. They all do.' He said simply as he started to walk past Sam.
'Some like it hot, hope you do.' He said as he walked further away from Sam.
Sam turned around in time to see the man transform to dust a few feet away. His face crumbling to the ground, his eyes, mouth, and Jessica's nose. All gone before Sam had a chance to take a breath. He stood there alone, holding the shopping bag.
'And that was when it started. It felt like flu at first. I was constantly warm, even outdoors. My head started to feel cloudy. I felt infected. It felt like Hell was inside me. Trying to escape. Dragging me further, down to its level.'
Sam finished speaking. Both Bobby and Sandy had come in through Sam talking to pick up what was going on. They both left the room and walked away, knowing it was for the best. They couldn't help, not with something like this.
'Pyrrhus.' Said Castiel, breaking the short silence following Sam's story. 'Pyrrhus is a recruiter. He is one of few able to contact between all the after worlds. He is a communications liaison for those head of all the worlds. He takes the form of anyone he pleases, and on request, talks to his chosen subject. He cons them into joining Hell. If you accept, you spend eternity in Hell, essentially as a slave. If you decline, you become infected. In Heaven, we have not dealt with Pyrrhus for many years. It is so rare that someone from Earth is chosen and he does not affect us Angels; he's almost unheard of in Earth. Humans are too weak and do not last in Hell's punishment. A few were chosen in the early days but died from the infection after declining Pyrrhus' offer. It is a psychological infection he gives them. I am almost certain that this is who Sam encountered.' Castiel finished, scanning Sam up and down for any more signs or symptoms, whilst Sam sat resigned on the bed.
His feet were pointing inwards, and his head was hung almost in a sort of shame.
'That Son of a Bitch. Why the Hell didn't he just tell me…There's always a cure. Always Cas. I honestly don't care why he was chosen, I just need to know he isn't going to die.' Dean said, as the word 'die' slid down his throat like a razor blade.
Sam had fallen silent again.
'He will have to fight it.' Said Castiel 'It starts psychically, and Sam is already psychically sick, although he has fought it well. Next, he will be surrounded by thoughts of extreme guilt and depression. He is going to remember every bad memory he has ever encountered at once. It will be painful. Emotionally painful. Something I cannot help with.'
'Sam's a fighter…aren't you Sammy?' Dean said, trying not to listen to Castiel.
Sam looked up for a brief moment.
'Do you remember Mum died? Do you remember the dress she was wearing? It was white and lacy and cotton. It was so soft. Really soft Dean…' Sam said, with a weary, glazed over look in his eyes.
'It has started.' Said Castiel. 'You have to make him fight it. It will not be easy.'
Dean was still kneeling down, and his legs felt numb and tingly. He stood up and the blood rushed to his head. He sat down next to his brother on the bed, adopting the same pose. It was almost as if he was trying to put himself in his shoes, but to no avail.
'Sam. I'm not good at this; you know I'm not. No one ever taught me how to deal with this crap. I'm just Dean, just a hunter. So Sam, you gotta' help me out here.' Dean pleaded, his voice on the edge of breaking.
It was easy being the tough guy but tough didn't cut it when it came to emotional troubles. He could pop a dislocated shoulder back in no time, but to heal a mental wound was like finding a cure for cancer.
'Maybe I should try.' Said Castiel, with a determined look at his face.
It was the same look he had when he tried to chat up a girl back in Missouri months ago. The girl almost called the cops after he insisted on buying her a thousand roses from a roadside florist.
Dean felt helpless. Anything that anyone could do would be worth trying. He moved out the way, and stood a few feet away, watching Castiel take his position.
'Sam?' Castiel spoke gently. 'I met Pyrrhus once. He came to Heaven many years ago to recruit some Angels. He wasn't successful because of course us Angels are immune to its powers. He came to me in the vessel of a man I had not seen before. His hair was white, and his eyes were bright blue. His skin was glowing but he was no angel. He asked me whether I would come to Hell and he would give me my life back. I never understood what he meant because my life has only ever been as an Angel. But when I started to develop empathy and emotion, I understood. He was offering me the chance to start life again as a human, as a real human. I am, after all, a living creature on Earth. I have every right to be what I please, but an Angel is my destiny. He was offering to change my destiny. I, of course, declined. But when I see you, Dean and Bobby I feel…I feel regret. I will never have true love. I will never feel true passion. I will never cradle a baby and cry because it is beautiful. I will never live. Not like I want to. Not like I crave.'
Castiel finished speaking. The air was thick and dense with a loud silence. Sam hadn't been looking at Castiel, but as the silence grew louder, he tilted his head upwards and finally spoke.
'God.' Sam said.
'Yes.' Said Castiel 'It was God that came to me. How I envisioned him to be. He was taunting me. Making me look at the one thing I wish I could love like a human.'
It was so uncharacteristic. It was Castiel, speaking, expressing, like a human. Giving his whole heart to Sam, despite its lack of substance.