AN: Here there be angst.

Since I have nothing else to say here, I'll wish a happy "gotcha day" (seven years ago yesterday!) to my cat Oz, who is twenty-three pounds of fluffy attitude with the best Resting Murder Face I've ever seen.

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I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into the fathomless chaos of eternal night.

– H. P. Lovecraft in Waking Up Screaming: Haunting Tales of Terror

Castiel had led heavenly armies, taken on an archangel in a civil war, and, of course, helped start Armageddon. But rarely had he undertaken a task with such gravity as the one currently before him. After all, Dean didn't trust just anybody to "baby-sit" his younger brother. Yes, Cas had caught onto the facetious instructions his friend had left. Joking aside, Dean fully expected Cas to take care of the suffering Sam, and keep him safe and as comfortable as possible, and Cas recognized just how significant it was that Dean would surrender Sam's care to him under such dire circumstances.

Cas frowned as Sam shivered – hard. He laid a hand against the side of Sam's neck to try to determine if his temperature was where it should be. Sam felt a little clammy, though he'd been sweating earlier. After a moment's thought, Cas pulled off his coat. It was muddy, but the inside was relatively clean, and it was warm. He laid it over Sam and wished he had something to put between his body and the concrete floor. The only things he saw were the broken chair and the two packs. With a mental shrug, Cas put the smaller pack under Sam's head and shoulders. At least his head was off the floor.

Sam tossed, restless despite what Dean had once called "an angel mickey," which meant his new vampire nature was fighting Cas' grace. Cas frowned. He had hoped that it would last longer and give his friend some relief from the raging supernatural virus pushing him to drink blood and complete his transformation. He touched Sam's forehead again and the man stilled, but Cas sensed the reprieve was only temporary. Sam's hands curled into fists and Cas' chest tightened in a way that he was coming to recognize meant he was worried. Not just worried – concerned about a member of his little, chosen family. Pretty much what he felt every time he thought about Jack lately.

The ringing of Cas' phone startled him. "Hello?" There was more static than voice on the other end of the line, and even his angelic senses couldn't detect what the words were, only that it was Dean talking. Cas said, "Dean, I can't hear you."

"...me...east...ca...check…"

Cas couldn't make sense of the words, but he knew what Dean would want to know. "Sam is sleeping," he reported. "I was able to put him under, at least for a short while. Do not worry. But...if you can, hurry back. This is not comfortable for him." Cas broke off as the connection died completely.

On the floor, Sam made a pained sound but did not wake. Cas searched his mind for something, anything, that he could do to help. He'd been taught for many years to be indifferent to human suffering, but that wasn't his natural state. Humans in pain, and especially the Winchesters, caused Cas to ache deep inside. Sam had once called him empathetic, and it was a compliment he prized highly.

What would Sam do for someone else? Cas wondered. The man was innately kind, something Cas admired a great deal, especially once he'd learned that it took more strength to show kindness than to be cruel, condescending, apathetic, or vindictive. Like Dean, Sam had emerged from a life of pain and struggle and immense difficulties more compassionate than before. It was one of the reasons that Cas considered humans to be superior to angels, and the Winchesters to be superior to any other human beings he'd met.

"You're like a brother too," Sam had said in the midst of great pain, taking the time to comfort Cas when Cas was useless to help him. Not that it surprised the angel, really. Sam had forgiven Cas for so many things, from calling him an abomination (more than once) to helping manipulate him into starting the Apocalypse (the first time) to cursing him to madness that nearly killed him. Sometimes just thinking of it all made Cas hurt in a way he had not known angels could hurt. In all honesty, Sam had probably forgiven him more quickly than Dean had.

Sam cried out for his brother, his face scrunched in pain that he would have tried to hide had he been awake. The broken word inspired Cas. He knew what Dean would do in this situation. He'd talk to Sam and use his words and his voice to offer a little comfort.

"I know I am not your real brother," he said hesitantly, his voice seeming overly loud in the basement. "But perhaps you will understand that a friend is here." He stopped. He was used to others leading conversations. But maybe the content of his words didn't really matter. "I wish Dean did not have to go after the vampires alone, but he is a far better Hunter than I. Not that he would have allowed me to go in his place, or you to remain here without anyone to watch over you."

Cas looked down at Sam's drawn, extra-pale features, able to see clearly even though there was hardly any light. He wished he could fix this. And how could talking be so hard? The angel frowned again. Dean would...Dean would tell Sam stories. Cas enjoyed stories – he could do that.

"When I was young," he began, his voice growing stronger as he lost his hesitance. "There were many, many of us who were the same age. Heaven didn't have so many souls, so there was not as much to do, and we were left mostly to our own devices. I often preferred to be alone, and I enjoyed looking down at Earth. It was forbidden to us, but I was fascinated by it – even then, even though there weren't any humans yet.

"One day, I was distracted, watching these new, tiny creatures run around. They were the first mammals, and I'd never seen an animal with warm blood, you see. I thought they'd probably die out soon. I thought the dinosaurs would rule the world forever. I was so focused that I never noticed a powerful presence coming near until it was right behind me. Then I hardly dared to move." Cas smiled to himself, remembering tasting fear for the first time and being curious about it even as he was too frightened to move. Curiosity was certainly one of his besetting sins – not unlike Sam.

"We knew well to stay far away from the archangels. To them, we were nothing. Raphael actually incinerated a young one just for coming too close to him. I was just waiting, hoping I wouldn't be noticed, when a voice said, 'What are you looking at, brother?' It was a normal voice, for an angel at least. And that was the first time I met Gabriel."

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam was swimming, which should have been pleasant. He'd always enjoyed the water. But this water was uncomfortably warm, and it seemed too heavy, sticky, clinging to his clothes and making it hard to stay afloat. Clothes? Oooookay.

The calm water was suddenly turbulent, and Sam turned himself in a circle, trying to see a way to shore, but he couldn't see anything but blackness no matter where he looked. He picked a direction and fought the growing waves. It really was too hot. Almost dangerously so.

A wave crashed over Sam's head and he coughed and spit as the bitter copper taste exploded on his tongue. What the hell? He was swimming in blood. Not just blood, demon blood, and now that he'd had a taste, he remembered exactly how it felt when the power burned through him.

No, no, no, no, he would never do that again. He wouldn't drink it. He'd rather die.

"You won't die. And I won't let you drink any," said a voice, shocking Sam awake.

A dream. Holy shit. Just a dream.

Sam went to wipe a hand over his face and was stopped by the unmistakable weight and sound of a handcuff. He looked up at Cas, suddenly remembering where he was and why. No wonder he'd been dreaming about blood.

"Cas. I'm sorry about that," Sam mumbled embarrassed by his outburst. He used his free right hand to rub his face instead, feeling the stubble and wondering absurdly if vampires had to shave. He knew werewolves and ghouls did, but unlike vampires, they were alive…but Benny had had a beard… Maybe he'd had the beard when he'd been turned? Years ago, Dean had informed his soulless self that vampires peed. Maybe they shaved, too. Sam's mind was wandering again until Cas' voice brought him back to reality.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Cas assured him. "I am sorry that I could not keep you sleeping any longer. You are in pain?"

It wasn't really a question, and Sam shrugged and tried to smile, keeping his lips closed in case the second set of teeth decided to make an appearance. He hoped he hadn't made any noise in his sleep. He sat up and managed a real smile when he saw that Cas' trench coat was over him. "How long?" Sam asked. His voice still sounded raspy from sleep, and he cleared his throat. "And any news from Dean?"

"Nearly 24 hours." Cas cleared his throat too, and Sam had a vague memory of hearing his friend's voice cutting through a lot of different dreams. "I do not have a good enough signal to reach Dean by phone. He has called several times and left voicemails, and he texted twice."

"And?" Sam knew he sounded impatient, bordering on angry, but his skin was starting to feel too tight, his blood too hot in his veins. He realized that he was staring at Cas like he was a three-course meal and jerked his attention away. Shit. Twenty-four hours.

"...and dispatched one of the vampires. He located the next two and had plans to, uh, 'give them a taste of their own medicine,'" Cas finished.

Sam nodded, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the sound of Cas' heart beating. "How long ago was that?" he asked. With shaking hands, Sam gripped the bars behind him and went to pull himself more upright.

"Six hours and twenty-three minutes ago."

"What?!" Shock and worry winged through Sam, and he slipped back down onto his elbow. Cas leaned over taking hold of Sam's forearm to help him. The maneuver put his neck right there in front of Sam's face, and Sam reacted before he could think. A lens came over his eyes and everything slowed down. He could see Cas leaning closer in slow motion, every pulse of his carotid artery agonizingly clear. So easy to just reach out with teeth that slid smoothly out of his gums and just sink them into…

The world sped up and went into fast forward and Sam was pushed back against the bars, half upright with a forearm against his neck and a strong hand holding his right bicep. Sam blinked and came back to himself. "God. Cas, I'm so sorry!"

Cas' face switched from hard and dangerous to horrified and worried. Just as fast, the hand at Sam's neck moved to hold his other arm instead. "Sam," he breathed, his eyes wide (and how did a thousands-of-years-old messenger of God go from looking so vengeful to looking so young and uncertain in the blink of an eye?). "I am so sorry. Did I hurt you? I acted on instinct."

It should have hurt, Sam knew, but the thrumming under his skin and the smell of Cas' blood was covering everything else, still. "So did I." Sam moved to slide back to a seated position and Cas let him go. "I'm fine. I'm just glad you could stop me. You should maybe step out of my reach."

Cas' frown deepened, but he obeyed. "I didn't mean to –"

Sam waved him off. "Me either. You did what you had to. Saved my life, right? So, Dean hasn't checked in for over six hours?"

"No, but there is very little cell phone service here. He may have tried."

Sam shook his head and tried to think past the pounding in his head. "Maybe you should try to find him. Or go out where you can call him. Or…"

"I cannot leave you, Sam." The words were kind but implacable. "Look at the bar of the cage."

Sam turned his head and stared at the bar he was handcuffed to. It was slightly bowed. He hadn't even realized that he'd pulled against it trying to get Cas. Hell, he'd hardly registered moving at all. Sam dropped his gaze to his savaged wrist, dripping blood onto the floor next to him. As if being acknowledged woke it up, it began to throb, and Sam's torso and neck joined in. "Oh."

Cas pulled out a bandanna – he really was acting like a Winchester – and after some thought, tossed it onto Sam's lap. Sam nodded his thanks and wrapped his wrist awkwardly with his other hand. The heat was fading away, leaving him feeling cold and sick.

"I'm sure Dean is fine," Cas blurted suddenly. "He is an exceptional Hunter and – "

"I know. I know. I just don't like it." Sam stared at the ceiling, noting that he could hear bugs crawling inside the walls. It would have been kind of cool if it wasn't so weird. "You know, it's a little bit like when I was on demon blood," he said. It wasn't exactly a time he liked to think about, but Sam didn't want silence or more of Cas' sweet but bumbling attempts to comfort him. "There's this strength or power inside of me. And when I'm using it, it feels normal, empowering, like this is the way I was always supposed to be. Then I come down and even while I realize just how screwed up it is, I'm still wishing I felt the other way."

Cas' gaze was so intense that Sam could feel it without even looking at him. Sam could hear the rustle of clothes as Cas knelt.

Cas' voice was quiet, serious. "I...after we faced Famine, I finally understood, a little bit. Intellectually, I knew that addiction is a disease, not a choice, but I always thought that angels were above it. That I was above it."

Sam lowered his chin just enough to see Cas.

The angel caught his eyes and continued. "But then I went to confront Famine and I did not care about anything except eating. I knew Dean was in danger. That you were. That there were demons all around me and I was crouching on the floor like an animal. It simply didn't matter as much as eating more beef, even raw. When you overcame the need for demon blood and refused to drink the demons right in front of you, I started to look at you differently. I...I was there while you came down, and even when you thought you might die, you begged Dean not to let you ever drink demon blood again. I knew that I had underestimated you. I wish I had told you that, but…"

But you still thought of me as the abomination, Sam thought. Lucifer's vessel. Evil. "Thank you for telling me now," he said aloud.

Cas persisted. "Sam, you are one of the strongest and best men I know. That is how I know you will overcome this, too."

Sam stared at the angel and blinked hard. "Damn. Uh, thanks, Cas. Really."

"Jack told me how quickly you accepted him." Cas smiled warmly, but distantly, like he was remembering. "I am grateful."

"Tell me what you saw about the future Jack might bring," Sam requested to change the subject, as it was getting awkward. He could use something truly good to think about.

Cas complied, talking about a world free from the influence of angels and demons. Not a flawless utopia, but a world where people could be the masters of their own fate, no longer in danger of fallout from the conflict between Heaven and Hell. Sam let the words wash over him for a while, trying not to worry. Trying not to smell Cas' blood, or the rotted wood, or the stinking river silt. Or the decay and burned flesh that told him Cas had burned Hooch's body outside while Sam was sleeping. And Cas' delicious, delicious blood...again.

Sam pulled his knees up and rested his cheek on them. He wrapped his free arm around his legs and held on as he began to shake again.

"Sam, what do you need?" Cas asked, interrupting himself.

"I don't know." Sam didn't lift his head. "Half the time, I feel like I drank five cans of Red Bull and eaten half a pound of sugar. The rest of the time I feel like I'm ten hours out from a three-day bender. Distraction is the best thing, really. I wish I had a crossword puzzle or Candy Crush or something."

"A puzzle?" Cas brightened. "I may have a mystery for you. I found these papers on the Hunter's body, but I don't know what any of it means."

"Papers? On Hooch?" Sam asked, finding it difficult to even put the words together as Cas had moved closer again. "Where on him?"

"Taped to his leg, just above his left ankle." Cas took his coat and pulled a small sheaf of very dirty papers out of an inside pocket. Still keeping his distance, Cas moved just close enough to hold them out to Sam.

Sam uncurled enough to take them, curiosity winning out over misery, at least for the moment. Some of the pages were unreadable, one seemed to be in Polish, which Sam barely recognized, much less could read. Another was in a mixture of English and bastardized Spanish and was either incoherent ramblings or really bad poetry. Yet another was a treatise on ducks. But the next…

"These letters are – "

"Hebrew," Cas finished, leaning just close enough to see what Sam was looking at. "Numbers, actually. There are not the right amount of digits to be phone numbers, so I do not know what they signify."

"Right. Right." Sam frowned in concentration. He knew the Hebrew alphabet, mostly, but not numbers. "This –" he touched a character in the top right corner of the page that looked like a backwards 'c' with a line going up. "This is a letter. Uh. Lamed, I think."

"Correct."

Sam leaned his aching head back against the bars again. This was normally easier, but dammit, Cas' blood smelled better than strawberry cheesecake and he was right there in Sam's personal space. "Um. Cas, you know Hebrew, right? Do any directions start with lamed?"

"Yes, I do. But no. North starts with –"

"No, no." Sam felt guilty for interrupting but he was trying to solve a puzzle and not tear the angel's throat out, so he was a little terse. "I mean up or down or left or right."

"Oh, yes! Up does."

Sam actually smiled. "That's a Hunter's trick Dad taught us – that letter is a clue. It means we don't read the numbers top to bottom, right to left, like you normally would in Hebrew. We read them going up, from bottom to top. Columns instead of rows." He opened his eyes.

"I still do not know what they might mean," Cas admitted, brow furrowed in thought.

"I think...they might be coordinates!" Sam felt a stirring of excitement. "Something Hooch obviously didn't want the vamps to know he had. These other pages might mean something, or they might be red herrings."

Sam could see the question coming before Cas voiced it. "They might be fish?"

"No, decoys. Distractions from what he really was doing. Made to make anyone who found this stuff think it's all just gibberish."

"It still may be." Cas sounded doubtful. He was looking at the page about ducks.

"Or it could be his will wasn't completely broken and he wrote down where some of the vamps' hideouts were." Sam chewed on his bottom lip. "You have to get these to Dean. And to do that, you'll have to leave me here." Swallowing and smiling apologetically, he admitted, "And you need to step back again. Now."

Fortunately, Cas stepped back adroitly. Fortunate because without even realizing he'd moved, Sam again found himself at the far limit of his reach, his trapped wrist stretched behind him. He was straining to reach Cas, actually gnashing his teeth.

"Oh, shit," Sam breathed, taking several long minutes to make himself step back far enough to take some of the strain off his wrist.

"I cannot possibly leave you," Cas argued, worry taking over his face.

"You have to." Sam's whole body was trembling. He was so hungry, like he was starving and hollow and couldn't ever get enough blood to ever fill his stomach. He felt like he was going to fall into the hole inside himself. Like he would do anything to fill it. Blood. Blood. BLOOD. He was going to die, shake to pieces, crumble into dust if he didn't get any.

"...me. Allow me to put you to sleep again. Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam held his breath, wasn't sure how much oxygen he needed anyway. If I bite the arms that are trapping me, I'll die, Sam tried to tell that savage, screaming, hungry part of himself. Cas was holding him from behind again, subduing him the safest way.

"Gettin' old," Sam rasped out.

"Sam? Will you allow me to try and make you sleep again?" asked Cas, not doing a very good job of hiding his distress.

"Won't work." Sam could feel the truth of his words. The chasm inside him was growing, the monster overwhelming the man. He wouldn't be able to overcome it enough for Cas to send him back to sleep, no matter how much he might want that. "Let go. Cas, you'll have to put me in the cage and get those numbers to Dean. It might speed up the search." Enough so I'll still be alive when Dean gets back, he added silently.

Cas stepped back cautiously and Sam continued. "I'll probably chew my own hand off if you don't, Cas. And even in the cage, eventually I'll throw myself against the bars. You need to get out another set of handcuffs. You know it's true."

They argued on and off for at least an hour, but Sam's bouts of pain and madness were growing more frequent, and finally, reluctantly, Cas agreed to Sam's plan. Even with Sam trying not to fight him, it took angelic strength to get Sam into the cage and handcuffed with his hands attached to adjacent corners, leaving his arms stretched to the sides so he didn't have much space to hurt himself and reduced his leverage if he tried to pull free or bend the bars.

Cas flinched harder than Sam did at the clang of the cage door closing. "I will be back as soon as I can, Sam." When Sam didn't answer, Cas walked around the side of the cage and presumably toward the exit.

Sam steeled his jaw and his nerve. Cas would get the information to Dean, who would get the cure. All he had to do was hang on until then. "Toda raba," he whispered, one of the few things he did know how to say in Hebrew. Thank you.

Ignoring the mud and sweat and maybe a little blood, Cas set his hand on Sam's bowed head. It felt like a benediction. Or maybe a good-bye. "Shalom," he replied. Peace.

Then he was gone.

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AN: Any and all Hebrew comes from Mr. Internet.

Timelady66: No worries, ever. Your description of Dean reminds me of what Garth said about him when the boys first met Bess. Something like he could start a fight in an empty house, but inside he's just a big teddy bear. Great lines. No comments on whether or not Sam breaks out, but it's an interesting guess. The Purgatory advice was a total last-minute addition as I was writing. I was trying to find a way for Dean to show compassion. I'm so glad you liked it!!!

supernaturalsammy67: Yay! I was hoping that Christopher would engender some sympathy from readers, even when he has obviously done bad things. A good, uneducated kid in the throes of bloodlust wouldn't stand a chance against the gaslighting and other machinations of a centuries-old vamp like Baako. Thank you for saying you liked the writing, and that you found him believable too. You got your check-in with Cas and Sam here. I don't think anyone has ever described anything I've written as "epic," and it made me grin from ear to ear.

Janice: I like pulling the chapter titles from the quotes. Actually, I adore quotes in general. And I'm glad that the flashback to Hell wasn't over-the-top. I think I asked you about that.And I'm even happier that the character of Christopher worked for you. I wanted him sympathetic but not so much as to be unbelievable, not when he's been around Baako for a hundred years or more. That was exactly what I was going for with Dean showing as much kindness as he was able to, because his flashback would make him wonder which of them is more monstrous. Ultimately, Dean does what he does out of love and honor, which are two very human traits, after all.

sfaulkenberry: Always happy to make you laugh. I believe I saw an interview once where Misha said Cas always looked constipated. And I'm just so happy that you liked the confliction inside Christopher. I laughed and laughed and laughed about Sam as Bella. That was her superpower or something, right? Resisting bloodlust? I forgot that. (I wasn't a huge fan of the books, tbh.) Now I can't get it out of my head. OMG that's funny! I know why you're looking forward to Dean finding the rest of the nest, and I promise, plenty of nice violence coming up. *snicker* No comment on whose blood or how many contributions were in it, but nice theory!

radpineapple: Dead town = dead zone for cell phones, but I admit that I mostly made it that way to amp up the worry. I mean, it's not nearly as stressful if our heroes can just check in with each other any time, right? Thank you for your very nice words about the chapter. It is very difficult for me to judge my own stuff. And I LOVE that you like the twist with Christopher. You are very encouraging!

muffinroo: I'm with you on being a Sam girl who also loves protective Dean. Don't hate me for making monsters sympathetic...it's a bad habit of mine. I do consider it a compliment that it worked, even with Christopher admitting that he's killed people. So...was this a nice installment of hurting Sam for you? And he's not out of the woods yet…promise!

bagelcat1: That is so nice! I hope that you're looking forward to more of Dean's "lethal capabilities" in the next chapter. I'm so glad that the flashback wasn't over the top for you. And I love that you're not finding it too predictable.

Shazza: I just love how you said Dean's humanity is showing! That's exactly what I was hoping readers would think. So, now that we've found out how great (not!) Sam is doing, back to Dean and vamp hunting!

Kathy: So glad you liked the details of the day! It's a hard balance to know how much to include without it getting boring. I'm also happy that you felt some empathy for Christopher. I'll have to think about that other story. I really do love Dean and think I was frustrated with the show writers when I wrote it. I think I'd have to completely rewrite it...but that's on the table. Just not real soon. :-) When this story is done, your requested chapter in Bewildered (weechesters and Bobby) is next.