13. "Stay."

Castiel stabbed the final werewolf with a firm twist of his angel blade. The beast went down with a thud on the ground, claws ripping from Castiel's sleeve. The angel winced slightly as the claws also tore into his flesh. The sleeve of his coat was shredded, and blood was seeping through but he could fix that well enough later. He may no longer be able to smite creatures, but he could still heal himself at least.

A soft gasp suddenly reminded him of his charge and the fog of battle drained from him as he spun around and hurried to the hunter lying on the ground.

"Sam," he said softly as he crouched beside the younger Winchester.

Sam's eyes were scrunched up in pain as he lay curled on his side, hands pressed desperately to his bleeding abdomen. The wolf had caught him with a clawed hand, another had torn into his shoulder too, but that wasn't what Castiel was worried about.

"Let me see it," he coaxed.

Sam hissed and grit his teeth. "I'm—I'm good, just…just need to…gah!" He tried to shift into an upright position but didn't get more than a few inches onto his elbow before he collapsed and curled even tighter. Castiel reached out to put a hand on his arm, careful not to touch the wounded shoulder.

"Sam, you are not good," Castiel said firmly. "I know I can't heal you, but at least let me do what I can."

Sam was gritting his teeth and didn't seem to be in the mindset to refuse so Castiel gently turned him onto his back. Sam groaned but didn't protest until Castiel took hold of his hands and peeled them away from the wound.

"No, Cas…" Sam tried to plead, but Castiel was already pulling Sam's blood-slicked hands away and peeling up the soaked fabric of his shirt. Even he inhaled sharply at the sight.

Three deep furrows cut through flesh and muscle, nearly piercing through to the innards beneath. Castiel felt sickened at the sight of it, the blood still seeping from the wounds. He felt even sicker because he couldn't heal Sam. He was cut off from Heaven, fallen, and while he could heal himself, he no longer had the ability to heal the humans he had rebelled against Heaven to protect. It was truly a cruel irony.

"Oh, Sam," he said, pained, as he cast about for something he could use to attempt to stop the bleeding.

He ended up pulling off his trench coat and then the suit jacket underneath of it, using that to press against Sam's stomach before he replaced Sam's hands over top of it.

Sam cried out at the pressure, but Castiel kept his hands firmly over Sam's, trying to staunch the blood flow.

"You need to keep pressure on this," he said firmly.

He felt truly helpless. He didn't even know how to heal humans this way. He didn't know how to use the first aid equipment Sam probably had in his bag, and really, Sam's wounds might be more than what he could fix with that anyway. Sam probably truly needed a hospital.

Castiel looked around. Maybe he could get help. Dean would be there soon, he was already on his way. They had called him the moment they realized they were in trouble, that all the werewolves were here instead of where they thought they would be and then they had jumped Sam and Castiel. Thankfully Castiel had gone with the younger Winchester, otherwise, Sam could have been turned or eaten by now.

Castiel looked down at Sam's pale face, lines of pain etched there. Maybe Dean wouldn't get there in time though. Maybe Sam needed help immediately. Castiel wasn't sure if it would damage Sam flying him somewhere in his condition, and he didn't know where the nearest hospital was. Alternatively, he could bring someone here, though for some reason, he didn't think Sam would approve of letting an outsider see all the bodies of the werewolves.

He noticed Sam shivering then, and released his hold on Sam's wound for one moment in order to spread his trench coat over the hunter. It didn't do much, but perhaps it would keep him a little warm. Sam's eyes slid open, looking somewhat surprised at the gesture and Castiel gave him a pained look.

"Sam, I can go get you help," he offered.

Sam shook his head. "I'll—I'll be fine."

Castiel didn't truly believe him, and he almost made to stand up. "Sam, you are injured badly; your body's going into shock at the blood loss…"

"Dean will be here soon," Sam said.

Castiel understood then. Of course Sam wanted his brother the most when he as injured. Castiel was just a pale replacement. And Dean would know what to do, even if he couldn't heal Sam himself, he would still know how to make him comfortable and get him the care he needed.

Castiel nodded. "I can call him, find out exactly where he is and bring him quicker. It will only take a moment." He got his feet under him but was surprised to find Sam had untangled one hand from under his coat and had reached out to grip Castiel's wrist weakly.

"Cas," he said, his eyes almost pleading. "Stay. Please."

The look of pleading in his eyes cut to Castiel's soul and he stayed put, settling back into a sitting position. He took Sam's bloody hand in his and squeezed it, as he reapplied pressure to his wound with his other hand. "I won't leave you, Sam," he promised. "I'll stay right here."

"Thanks," Sam murmured and closed his eyes, looking a little more at peace, even though Castiel could still tell the pain was radiating from him.

Even though he couldn't heal Sam's wounds, if he could still make him comfortable by staying at his side, then that was what he would do.

Castiel would watch over Sam until his brother got there.