Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings
A/N: Didn't realize that all my pause/breaks had been removed from the previous chapters :( Apparently the document manager doesn't like asterisks? I just fixed them. They should read better now. Sorry I didn't catch it sooner. Feel free to tell me if you notice anything else out of whack so I can fix it too... Anyway, here's the next chapter :)
Part 4
Sam couldn't immediately remember how he got to this place. His mind was still fuzzy and he probably wouldn't have remembered his own name... had he remembered to think about it. All he knew is that it was cold, and that the floor beneath him was hard and unforgiving as he crashed down onto it. He also remembered that he wasn't supposed to open his eyes for some reason, so he held them tightly shut. His arms were clutched around something too... no, somebody.
It came back slowly, bit by bit. Feelings first, then concepts, then finally coherent thought. There had been the light, hot and cold at the same time. Burning and freezing, but it had not lasted for long, the pain of banishment had ended in a terrible light, which had in turn given way to the rough, disconcerting, though comparably pleasant feeling of angelic transport. Then he was here. And it was an angel who was beside him, who had brought him here. Yes, it was Castiel... and they were safe. He hoped. He cracked open his eyes cautiously, still a little worried despite the fact that there didn't seem to be any light here to burn them.
"Cas?" Sam pushed away and nudged at the back of the tan trench coat in front of him. He heard a groan from it. "Castiel, are you okay?"
"Sam," a hoarse voice intoned. A short pause, then, "I'll be fine. I just need some time to... regain my strength. Are you injured?"
"No. I'm good. Mostly. Just cold... really, really cold," Sam said, noticing that his teeth had begun to chatter. "I don't suppose you could get us out of here."
"I'm afraid not," Castiel said, flopping onto his back to stare blankly at the high ceiling. "I am too weakened right now," he continued, voice fading, cracking more and more with each syllable. "I think I might... I might need to sleep for a while."
Sam glanced around. This was a church, he realized. A cold, unheated church, probably in Siberia or some such place, since they could really be anywhere in the world. In the pale light coming through a high vaulted window stained in red, yellow, and green, Sam could see that the angel appeared to be in worse shape than before. The bruises and cuts from before hadn't healed, and now he was bleeding from his nose as well as his ear. Then Castiel's body slackened and his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dark against pale, bloodless skin.
"Cas?" Sam reached to nudge him again, but got no reaction this time except the steady motion of the angel's chest rising and falling with each breath. That at least was something.
There was nothing to do but let Castiel rest, he supposed, and hope he would be able to heal himself and get them back to civilization once he woke. But Sam was shivering in earnest now. His jacket was forgotten somewhere near Santa Cruz, and his backpack with emergency supplies including the foil blanket was gone as well. On top of it all, his head was still woozy and painful from the confrontation with the demons not long ago. He needed to crash as well to recover, or he'd be useless.
"Why couldn't you have picked a nice church in the tropics somewhere, Cas?" Sam breathed, mostly to himself, since Castiel obviously wasn't listening. He wrapped his arms around himself. Then after a moment's hesitation, reached out again and touched the unconscious angel in front of him. To his surprise, Castiel was actually hot, not shivering at all.
Sam settled himself onto the floor beside the angel. It was basic survival skills 101 after all, sharing body heat. He had none, and Castiel obviously had a lot to spare. Sam spread out one side of Castiel's trench coat out with trembling hands and proceeded to lie down on it.
"Of course, this doesn't mean we're going steady or anything Cas," Sam said, again more to himself than anybody else, a slight flush to his cheeks.
Castiel didn't seem to mind though, in fact he didn't say a word... not that Sam was expecting him to. Then Sam pulled the angel until they were face to face, one arm under Castiel's head and the other locked around to secure him... and he reveled in the warmth. Castiel was practically glowing with it. A deep grateful sigh escaped his lips in a small puff of chilled breath. It was not comfortable, and he was still not altogether warm, but the tremors wracking his body gradually slowed, finally stopped, and he thought that maybe he could sleep as well.
As he drifted away, a fleeting thought passed through his mind wondering what Castiel would make of their position when he woke up. Sam found he really didn't give a crap right now, then he too lapsed into unconsciousness.
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Sam thought this was starting to get pretty old. He had roused from unconsciousness so many times in the last couple weeks that he was starting to lose count. At least this time he was warm, he thought resignedly. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he found that he was lying on another lumpy mattress. He was also covered by overly starched sheets and blankets that smelled of old cigarette so strongly he could taste it. He crinkled his nose and opened his eyes.
Definitely a motel, but a different one than before. The curtains were drawn tightly shut and only a small lamp in the corner of the room was lit. Castiel sat in a chair at the small round table at the side of the room. He was a weary form, head bowed and supported on the back of interlaced hands. The angel looked rumpled, his trench coat smeared in places with dirt and blood and soot, but the bruises and cuts that Sam could see from his vantage appeared more closed and faded, if not completely gone. He didn't seem to notice that Sam was awake.
Sam coughed, once, and Castiel's head jerked up startled, but he regained his equanimity quickly, stood and walked over to the bed.
"Sam," he said. "How do you feel?"
"I feel..." and Sam had to think about it for a moment, "I feel... okay. Better than I have in a long time." Then he scrunched his nose a little. "Despite the fact that the Marlboro Man was apparently the last person who stayed in this room."
"The sign said the room was non-smoking," Castiel replied, matter of fact.
"I can't believe you actually understood that reference," Sam said, surprised, smiling a little.
"I have been attempting to expand my knowledge of 'pop culture.'" Castiel said proudly. "I seem to be experiencing some measure of success."
Sam thought that even with some pop culture knowledge under his belt, Castiel still seemed stilted, foreign, but decided not to mention it since the angel seemed so pleased with himself. Then he pushed himself up to a sitting position, legs swinging over the side of the bed, covers falling away. He did feel better than he had since returning from Hell. Different. Almost normal. He looked down at his hands critically, then up at Castiel, eyes widening.
"Is this... demon blood thing..." Sam seemed to struggle for words. "Is it wearing off? Am I getting better, Cas?"
"Yes, Sam," Castiel said. "It would seem so."
"You knew," Sam said, eyes narrowing. "You knew all along, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam demanded, accused.
Castiel's lips closed into a tight line and he looked down, as if fearful of retribution. Sam couldn't help noticing again the angel's disheveled appearance. The tired stoop to his posture, the not quite healed wounds and bruises, and the filthy, torn clothing.
"Why aren't you healed, Cas? It's got something to do with all of this, doesn't it?" Then it dawned on him. "You're losing your Grace again. Is it because you've gone against the other angels?"
"You have to understand, Sam." Castiel began. "The last time God brought me back, at the cemetery after you dragged Lucifer back into Hell, I returned... different. Not only was I back in touch with Heaven and my Grace, but there was something more. I didn't know immediately what it meant."
Castiel walked back to the chair and sat down. Sam just continued to look at him. The angel hadn't denied it. So his Grace was fading.
"So, God gave you the power to fix me?" Sam asked, hopefully. "To... to make me right again?"
"In a way..." Castiel said. "I didn't think about any of this again for months. And then I took your execution as my assignment." Castiel sighed. "I knew I wouldn't be able to kill you, but if I hadn't volunteered to go, another angel would have. When I came to see you, I had plans to take you somewhere, to hide you, keep you safe."
Sam continued to stare at Castiel, disbelieving, trying to wrap his mind around this new development that seemed to have come squarely from left field.
"Once I arrived though," Castiel continued, "I knew. I understood that the way my Father had brought me back... It had not been without reason. The minute I stood in your presence... I felt something."
Sam closed his eyes, remembering back. He suddenly thought he should have noticed it before, or even at the time, but he hadn't. He had been so angry, so... overwhelmed with grief, frustration, and a host of other negative emotions, that he hadn't even realized that he had also felt something when Castiel arrived.
In fact, if he had been paying attention, he would have known back then that the day in Vancouver had been a turning point. He had been more relaxed than he had been in months, and the ever present knot in the pit of his stomach had gradually loosened to the point where he could finally eat and smile and think of good things again.
It finally occurred to him that he hadn't been losing his abilities because the demons were more powerful than those he had faced before, but because he was less powerful. And Castiel's powers were diminished as well. They had both been decreasing, little at a time. There had been other changes too. Among other things, the angel had been eating, perhaps it hadn't been just to be polite.
"You're losing your Grace..." Sam said, drawing out the silence for a few seconds, "... and you're giving it to me."
"Not quite," Castiel said. "However, as I told you before, your power is diametrically opposed to my own. I believe that while we are in close proximity the two are effectively canceling each other out. It seems there is an exchange taking place, but each side is left bound... ineffective."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wasn't sure you would approve, Sam. Lately ... you've seemed so willing to end your existence. Almost like you wanted to. I don't believe you're thinking clearly. I'm sure it is simply a side effect of the demon blood though. I expect it will pass."
"You think I'm suicidal."
"You're depressed. As I said, you're not thinking clearly."
Sam shook his head. "My thinking is just fine, Cas, and I can't let you do this."
"I believe it was for this reason I was brought back," Castiel said. "To save you."
"After all I've done, you think you were brought back for me? Did it ever occur to you that God might have brought you back simply because of all you did when the other angels abandoned Him?" Sam asked. "That and you were willing to give up everything to do right by Him."
Castiel gave him a sad look. A thin almost-smile.
"That's not why I disobeyed Heaven. Not for Him. I did it for Dean. I can't imagine that I would be rewarded for that. No, I am a warrior of God. We are meant to serve His purpose. I have always been and will continue to be a means to an end, nothing more. "
And he said it as if stating a universal truth, no resentment, only resignation.
"You deserve to have this chance, Sam... please just accept it for what it is."
"And what about Jimmy? Where will he be?"
"Jimmy is fine... he is at peace. He will be home. What more would you expect?"
"Will your Grace come back if I leave?" Sam's expression turned stony, tone sharp. Jimmy deserved to go back to his family someday, not just home to the fields of the Lord, without passing Go. The whole thing was completely unfair.
Castiel looked down. "Sam, you have to understand..."
"Will it?" Sam demanded, cutting Castiel short once again.
"This is His will." Castiel's head snapped up and he fixed Sam with a stern glare. "Stop attempting to defy it."
"That's crap!" Sam practically exploded, and Castiel actually started a little, eyes wide. Sam didn't appreciate the angel's attempt to bully him. Those tactics hadn't worked when Dean used them or when his own father had used them for that matter, and Castiel would be no exception to the rule. Then he said more calmly, "Enough people have sacrificed already."
"As have you." Then Castiel sighed, visibly deflated, hand absently rubbing at his temple. "Please, don't argue this Sam. I don't have the energy right now for it."
"Have you slept?" Sam asked, concern overtaking his anger, but only briefly. Castiel just looked at him. "Of course not. You just sat there while I was out, didn't you?"
"You couldn't have been more vulnerable," Castiel replied. "Of course I would watch over you. There are still demons searching for you... and now my brothers know you're alive as well. You're not safe."
"You won't be of any use if you collapse from exhaustion," Sam said, a hard edge to his voice. "It's a limitation of being human. If you want to go that route, you'll have to get used to sleeping."
Castiel gave him a grim look. "I realize that, Sam."
The silence that followed was deafening, and Sam was almost sorry for speaking so harshly. The angel after all was only trying to help, but he needed to deter Castiel in any way possible, even if it was through cruelty. Sam also knew as he watched Castiel walk toward the other unused bed, watched him lie down, clothes, shoes and all, that the angel couldn't want this. Not really. He just seemed so saddened, dejected, blatantly out of place. But Castiel would do this anyway out of some misplaced sense of duty. He would give up his family, his place in Heaven, his very self because he thought that God had willed it. Because he saw no value in his own existence... or Jimmy's apparently. Sam did though, and he wasn't going to allow the angel, or anyone else, to sacrifice for his benefit... not anymore.
A few minutes later, after Castiel's breaths evened out into light puffs, Sam made a decision. Castiel would forgive him someday, probably thank him in 20/20 retrospect, even though Sam wouldn't be around to know. Jimmy would certainly be grateful. He glanced back into the darkened room at the sleeping angel as he left, then closed the door quietly behind him. When Castiel woke, he would find himself alone.
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