Chapter 62.
"You don't have to stay awake and watch over me." said Cas.
Sam lay on the bed nearest the door. Cas had used the other bed the night before, so, although that was usually his bed, he thought it best to let Cas have it. "I can stay awake a while, just to be sure you're okay." he said, "Do you still feel like you'll sleep?"
"Yes." said Cas, "I feel tired and heavy and ... and sad. I wish I could stop missing her."
"That takes a while." said Sam.
"How long?" said Cas.
Sam thought of Jess, of the way she had snuggled up to him in bed, the way she had smiled in the morning, before racing him to the shower with a wicked little grin. "Sometimes, forever." he said.
"Love is cruel." said Cas.
"Love is worth it."
"If you really believed that, you wouldn't be living like a monk." said Cas.
"It's not to avoid heartbreak, I assure you. It's to avoid unnecessary loss of life. I still believe in love. Just not for me."
"You sound like Dean." said Cas. He lay down on the bed. "Do you think I'll dream of her?"
"It seems likely." said Sam.
Cas took out his phone and looked at it again.
"If you called her, she'd answer." said Sam.
Cas handed him the phone. On it was a photograph of the two of them together, dressed up for his birthday party, which seemed a lifetime ago now. "Cute picture." said Sam.
"I should delete it, get rid of them all. I can't let go. How do you stop loving someone."
"Well, first you have to want to. You don't want to. Don't delete the pictures. Good memories are precious. Long after everything is over, a photo can give you back that moment."
"Not fully. It's a shadow." said Cas.
"Shadows are important. They tell you there's still a little light."
"You have no photos of Jessica."
"I display no photos of Jessica." said Sam, "I can't display them. The loss was too absolute and too much my fault. I look at them sometimes, when I feel strong enough or desperate enough. Then there's Dean."
"What does Dean have to do with it?"
"He has to believe I'm over losing her. There are things too heavy for him to bear, the Hell stuff, my guilt over Jess, archangels."
"The picture is vivid in my head. I shouldn't need it on the cellphone too."
"But you do. So keep it. You're allowed to need things." said Sam.
"Do you think she has deleted her pictures of us?" said Cas.
"2 Kings 2:2." said Sam, "I highly doubt it." He gave the phone back.
Cas put it in his pocket, lying back down. "I know this is right." he said, "Just because it hurts, doesn't mean it's wrong."
"We can talk about it any time you like." said Sam. If Cas would explain why he felt that way, they could help him.
"There's nothing to discuss." said Cas.
"Except that you're certain you have to be apart from the woman you love."
"It's a common problem. Love does not guarantee an eternity together. In fact, my angelic nature guarantees a sad ending at some point."
"Is that it? That it has to end, so you need to get the ending out of the way?"
"Does that make sense?" said Cas.
"Yeah, a weird, sad kind of sense." said Sam, but he already knew it was not the answer. Cas was not asking for validation of his reasons, but for Sam to be satisfied with something that was not his reason.
"Good. Let's go with that."
"Try to get some rest. Just remember that I'm always ready to listen."
Cas pulled the covers over himself. He turned to face the wall. "Dean moved his bed across the door." he said, "If you want to do that too, I won't be insulted."
"No, I don't think you plan on going anywhere tonight." said Sam.
"No." said Cas.
"Because you're home. This is where you belong."
"Yes." said Cas.
"Sleep well." said Sam, "I hope you have the dreams you want."
"Thanks." said Cas.
Sam turned out all but one of the lights and settled down to watch over Cas. He was expecting it to take some time for Cas to fall asleep, as it was such an unnatural process for him, but in fact, he seemed to fall asleep quickly, a sign of how weak he really was.
There was no indication of dreams, good or bad. His breathing was steady and he made no movements. It felt strange, watching an angel as if he were a delicate child, but that was how it felt, as if he had to be protected from the horrors of bad dreams and even the pain of good ones.
He wanted to keep them all safe. The evening meal, eaten together, had been good for all of them, a rare time of peace. He had no idea why Dean had suddenly felt the need to say the things he had said, but their effect had been entirely beneficial. Dean had been right that they all needed it. That he had confessed to needing it himself was a surprise and a good one.
Watching Cas sleep now, apparently calmly, Sam felt that he was seeing the effects of the unusual openness from all of them. All afternoon, Cas had been unsettled, guilty for having deceived them, anxious that he had gone too far and angered them too much, afraid that what he had done had caused Jack more distress. In the warm kitchen, listening to them talking, though he had said very little himself, he had been comforted. They had made him feel safe.
It had been a comfort to Sam too. It reminded him of eating with Dean and their father on the nights when he and his father had not argued. There was a time before the arguments, when he would listen to Dean and his father making jokes that seemed as effortless as they were brilliant and sometimes, he would attempt one himself.
For a long time, they would give him encouraging smiles, but no laughter and then, suddenly, as if he had discovered a magic formula, they began to really laugh, huge, spontaneous guffaws. As the laughter died away, Dean would give him a look of approval, even pride. Impressing Dean had been his number one ambition. Decades later, it was still in the top three.
He had let them down, every one of them, including Jack. He would undoubtedly let them down again. They loved him anyway. Castiel trusted him enough to sleep in the same room. There had to be a chance he would talk in his sleep, but if he did, despite his curiosity, Sam would try not to listen. He wanted Cas to share his terrible secret, but he had no intention of trying to steal it.
Even if they reopened the mind link, Sam would try to add something to prevent that secret from becoming his by any means other than Cas or Jules telling him.
That didn't stop him speculating. That, he couldn't help. Cas seemed fatalistic and sorrowful and utterly convinced that he could never reconsider the split with Jules and none of that was reassuring.
He was still wearing his coat in bed, bundled up, closed off and hiding from the whole world. He faced the wall, maybe to avoid his expression being seen or his words being audible.
Sam couldn't help but think of his first few nights without Jess, feeling cold and empty and alone. Having Dean around had helped, but it had also meant he couldn't cry or rant or scream. The tears, unshed, had burned their way into his throat. The screams he never uttered had waited in his head to haunt his dreams. The rants and tantrums had been buried, becoming an endless store of rage, along with the fury of the motherless child who had never even had a chance to sample maternal affection and his envy of Dean, who had.
He wondered what oceans of unshed tears, what volcano of suppressed anger might be building up in Castiel. He wished he had the power to ease his pain, but he knew that pain like that had to run its course and that course was long and torturous.