Sam's arm was asleep.
He shifted slightly, frowning, still exhausted and unwilling to wake up just yet, but the tingling sensation was more of a painful pins and needles feeling by this point than a tolerable numbness. Unfortunately, his slight movement only seemed to make Dean move closer, rather than encouraging him to roll away. Sam opened his eyes with a sleepy sigh, blinking into the dim light – but as the room came into focus, he realized it wasn't the one he shared most nights with Dean.
Wait… what…?
His brother's name was on his lips, barely unspoken, when Sam finally looked down at the figure lying beside him.
Oh. Not Dean. Cas.
Sam's stomach clenched, a sudden wave of nausea coming over him with the memories of the day and night before, and why it was that Cas was lying in his arms. A moment later, he realized that Cas's hand clenched tight in his shirt, and the fine, steady tremor running through Cas's body meant that, despite his silence, the angel was no longer sleeping.
"Cas?" Sam kept his tone low and gentle, not wanting to startle him. "You awake?"
Cas went very still for a second – then nodded against Sam's chest. "Yes," he replied, in a voice so soft that Sam almost missed it.
"You're really hurting, aren't you?" Sam felt a pang of guilt, wondering how long Cas had been lying there silently suffering. "Next time wake me up, Cas, okay? Just a second, I'll get you your next…"
"No."
Cas's tone as much as his tightening grip kept Sam where he was. Sam put his hand gently on Cas's shoulder, pushing him back a little to look at him. This time, Cas willingly complied, looking up at Sam with eyes that were solemn and troubled – but clearer. Sam was relieved to see that the confusion and panic of the previous night were gone, and while he still winced with pain as he shifted backward to look at Sam, Cas seemed at least to be calm and aware of his surroundings.
"I… do not wish to sleep anymore for now," Cas explained. "Not – not yet."
Sam studied Cas's face for a long moment, his heart racing with apprehension as he took in the resolve there, the clarity of purpose in his eyes. Cas was clearly no longer inhibited by the drugs Sam had given him, or the immediacy of the trauma he'd experienced the day before. His expression was solemn and uncertain, full of questions, and Sam knew that the time for hiding was past.
"Okay," Sam carefully shifted his arm out from under Cas's shoulders, rising up on his elbow and shaking it out a little. "We can – we can try something else, something that might help with the pain without making you sleepy." He was genuinely concerned, but he was stalling, too. He knew it. "Do you want me to get you something?"
Cas looked up again then, quietly holding Sam's gaze. "Answers," he replied at last, his voice tired but determined.
Sam's heart sank. It was what he'd both feared and expected.
"Okay," he said again, quiet and much calmer than he felt. "Ask… whatever you want to know."
And I won't lie to him, Sam decided. He trusts me, and I don't want to break that. But that's why, if he asks… I have to tell him the truth.
There was a sorrow and hurt in Cas's eyes that tore at Sam, guilt pulling at his heart as Cas asked softly, simply, "Why?"
Sam's mouth went dry, even as he found himself blinking back tears. "How much did Dean tell you?" he asked finally, his voice coming out a little hoarse.
"Not enough," Cas replied immediately, looking away, a haunted look in his eyes, and it was so unfair, so wrong, that after what had happened, Cas should look so self-conscious and ashamed. "He… assumed I knew."
"Right." Sam swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves before adding cautiously, "We… we both did, Cas."
Cas nodded slowly, and Sam knew that there was no reason why Cas should have been surprised by that statement. After all, Sam had helped Dean tie him down, given him the first injection so that they could look for the tablet. It wasn't as if Cas thought Sam was perfectly innocent in all of this.
He just… doesn't exactly think I'm guilty, either.
"Why?" Cas asked again, looking up at Sam with a piercing, desperately searching gaze. "Why… why would you think that? Who told you that I – was trying to start the Apocalypse again?" There was disbelief in Cas's quiet words, in the slight shake of his head, and Sam winced at what was unspoken.
After he died to stop the first one. Twice. After he compromised everything he believed in, gave up even us to try to stop it again when Raphael wanted to restart it. God, what were we thinking? Ending the world by accident? Yeah. That'd be totally Cas. But starting the Apocalypse again on purpose is the last thing Cas would ever do.
"There was… this angel, who showed up and told us you were trying to take down the walls," Sam began.
"Yes, and angels never lie." The bitter words were barely out of Cas's mouth before he flinched slightly, looking away and swallowing hard. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost contrite. "Although I suppose… if it was the word of a stranger over the word of an angel whom you knew had once lied to you, and… and attempted to… to open a door from this world to a dangerous other dimension…"
"Cas. No." Sam's voice was firm, and he reached his hand down between them to tilt Cas's head back up, insistent. "Cas."
Cas reluctantly looked up at Sam again, regret in his eyes. It hurt Sam to see it there, and filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame that Cas was placing any responsibility at all for what had happened on himself, while virtually absolving Sam of his part in it. Still, Sam held his gaze, willing Cas to see the truth in his words.
"There is no way in which this is your fault. All right? You did nothing to deserve this, so don't even start…"
"Okay." Cas's voice was quiet and subdued, and he lowered his eyes again, visibly uncomfortable. So Sam removed his hand, leaning back a little to give Cas a bit more space. "What did Crowley have to do with any of it?" Cas asked after a moment's pause. "I – I remember he was there, but – I – can't remember what he said."
Sam's mind went back to that moment in the basement when he'd first seen Cas – the shock, the sick horror at the realization of what Dean had done to him – what Dean was capable of doing to someone they both loved so dearly. Cas had been whimpering, cowering away from the sound of Dean's voice; it was no wonder he remembered little of the conversation that had taken place around him.
Sam knew something about what that kind of suffering was like; he wondered at what point Cas had lost the ability to process what was happening at all, and simply lost himself to everything but pain.
"The angel who talked to us was working for him," Sam explained, feeling foolish as the words left his lips. "He set the whole thing up. We thought – it never occurred to us that an angel might be working with Crowley."
Cas looked up at Sam again, his mouth twitching slightly in a rueful expression, and Sam's stomach dropped. His voice softened as he clarified, "We just thought… if both the angels and the demons were giving us the same story…"
"Then there was no reason to bother with hearing mine."
Sam's heart ached at the soft resignation in Cas's voice. "Cas… I'm so sorry," he said. "I know… that doesn't mean much, but…"
"I understand, Sam," Cas cut him off quietly, looking up to meet Sam's eyes again. "I – don't blame you for not believing me. I – I have done many things in the past – and some quite recently – which have effectively destroyed your trust in me. Yours and your brother's. I've had little opportunity to gain back that trust, much as I have wished to, and I – I cannot blame either of you for believing others over me."
Sam sighed, repeating insistently, "Cas, it's not your fault…"
"No, it's not," Cas agreed immediately in a tone that was firm and certain, and brought Sam's protest to an abrupt halt. "It's Crowley's."
Sam studied Cas's face closely, feeling a tentative sense of relief. It seemed too good to be true that, now that he'd had some rest and was clearly feeling a little better, Cas might see things so objectively as to allow him to forgive the brothers their horrific mistake. But Cas's expression was calm, if solemn, his tone quiet and focused as he went on.
"There were – deaths. At least one, Dean told me. A little girl. What – what did Crowley do, exactly?"
"We're still not sure about that," Sam admitted. "We know he had a bunch of people killed in a convenience store near the cabin, but – we think that was probably just to help sell the story." He grimaced at even recounting such callous cruelty, before going on. "The other things – all the signs, earthquakes, storms – we're not really sure yet. I haven't had a chance to look at the news since we got here, but… I think it's possible he just… made most of it up. Made it appear on my laptop, when maybe – maybe nothing was actually happening at all."
"It's possible," Cas conceded with a nod. "Crowley has the power to do something like that."
"It was – so convincing," Sam said, his regret coloring his words. Cas looked away, visibly self-conscious. "Cas – I'm so sorry," Sam repeated. "We really thought – we were so wrong, but we really thought there was – no other choice."
"I know," Cas replied softly, head lowered, voice carefully measured and calm. But Sam noticed with dismay that he was trembling again, and when he spoke, his voice was strained, taut with pain. "I… understand."
Sam hesitated, then began gently, "Cas… what… what Dean did… to your-"
"No." Cas's hands tightened in Sam's shirt, and his voice was hoarse and sharp as he abruptly cut Sam off, without looking up. "I – I do not wish to talk about… what Dean did."
"Well," Sam let out a heavy sigh, ducking his head to try to catch Cas's gaze again. "We… might not have much of a choice about that. I need to know… what to do for you. For your wings, so…"
"I do not wish to talk about Dean, then," Cas clarified, his shaking intensified against Sam's body as he lowered his head until it was pressed against Sam's shirt again. "Please," he added in a desperate whisper.
Instinctively Sam put his arm around Cas, above his bandaged, trembling wings. "Okay," he relented softly. "Okay, Cas, we won't. Not until – not unless you want to. All right?"
Cas nodded, pressing in close to Sam, hands clenched into tight fists in Sam's shirt, trembling all over. After a moment, he raised his head a little, not quite meeting Sam's eyes, but Sam could see the stark fear on his face as he finally spoke again, hoarse and halting.
"I – there's – something is wrong with me. I – I feel…" Sam waited for the end of that thought, only realizing once Cas met his gaze again, bewildered and frightened, that it was already finished. "What – what's wrong with me?" Cas pleaded.
"I'm pretty sure it's Jacob's Call," Sam explained softly. "It's restraining your grace, so – you're feeling things in a way that's more – intense. More human."
"Yes," Cas nodded, his voice breathless and slightly panicked, and Sam soothed him as best he could, his hand stroking cautiously down Cas's side. "Dean said… yes, because… he wanted to be able to…" His breath quickened, and he glanced toward the closed bedroom door, dread in his eyes. "Can't you – can't you break it? But – no, Dean made it so Dean has to break it. Why hasn't he broken it yet? Why does he still need it?"
"He doesn't," Sam assured him gently. "Cas, try to calm down, all right? Listen to me. Listen."
Cas went quiet, though he was still trembling, his breath quick and uneven, and Sam knew he was on the edge of a full-fledged panic attack.
"Dean has every intention of breaking that bond. The only reason we've waited is because, right now, that bond is the only thing we're sure is keeping the angels from finding you, and…"
"And they'd smite him."
Sam's stomach dropped at the simple certainty of Cas's words – confirmation of what he'd already suspected – but also at the subtle edge they carried. The tone sounded familiar. It sounded like a sentiment Sam could relate to.
When my big brothers find out what you did…
He couldn't hold it against Cas; couldn't blame him a bit if a part of him took some measure of satisfaction in the thought of Dean's being punished for what he'd done.
He also couldn't allow that to actually happen.
"Well… yeah," Sam admitted, his words cautiously measured. "But – they'd come after you, too, Cas. I mean – you're not exactly their favorite person right now, either, so…"
Cas looked up at Sam abruptly, something coolly appraising in his eyes, breaking through the haze of fear. "So you haven't yet broken the bond that keeps me at your brother's mercy, and keeps my brethren from coming to my aid… solely out of concern… for my welfare."
Sam swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look away, forcing himself to be honest. Cas deserved at least that much from him.
"No. Not… solely." He hesitated, neither encouraged nor discouraged by Cas's simple blink in response, and the way he just quietly waited for Sam to elaborate. "I'm… not sure they'd be coming to your aid, Cas. Naomi's still out there somewhere, looking for you, and… probably planning to kill you. And now, I'm pretty sure they'd want to punish Dean, too." He paused, concluding softly, "I'd really rather neither of those things happened."
Cas was quiet a moment longer, studying Sam's face. Finally, he looked away, confessing with a tone that was quiet and almost surprised, "Me, too." He hesitated, looking up at Sam again with a bewildered expression as he added, "I'm – not really sure why I'd object… to either of those things at the moment, but – I do."
"Okay," Sam nodded, relieved. "Okay, that's good. Then – we're on the same page. And – I think we might be safe here, even without the bond. There's – angel warding, I think, on the doors…"
Cas frowned, incredulous. "Where are we?" he asked again.
"Long story I'll have to tell you later." Sam smiled. "But this place is ours, and it's safe, and if the warding means what I think it does, then it'll be okay to break the bond. I – don't want to break it until you've looked at the sigils, though, and told me what they mean. All right?"
Cas considered that for a moment and seemed to find it reasonable. "All right," he agreed.
"Okay." Sam smiled, encouraging. "So… I'm going to get up and go draw them for you, okay? It shouldn't take me very long."
"Okay," Cas agreed again – but he made no move to let go of Sam's shirt so that Sam could get up.
"Cas…"
"I-I know." Cas's voice was quiet and small, and it hurt Sam to hear him sound so vulnerable and confused. "I'm sorry. The Call – its effects are quite – disconcerting. Please, can you just – can you wait a moment?"
"Okay." Sam settled in closer to Cas, wrapping his arms around him and holding him. "No problem," he murmured into Cas's hair, one hand gently rubbing at the back of his neck. "It can wait."
Castiel hated… everything about this.
He hated the overwhelming sensation of physical pain, the burning in his wings, the throbbing of broken bones – all things he'd only felt before from a distance. His grace kept his consciousness separate from his vessel, not allowing any injury to his physical form to touch him. But this – this was close and sharp and screaming beneath his skin, an ever-present torment.
He hated the alarming reaction his vessel was having to the trauma he'd experienced, making him cling to Sam Winchester as if he was the only thing keeping Castiel from drowning. He hated that he felt like he was drowning – unfamiliar emotions all in chaos, too much and too conflicting to make any sense of them, overwhelming hurt and confusion and fear, mingled with older, softer feelings that he didn't understand why he still had… feelings for Dean…
He hated… he hated that he didn't hate Dean, much as he wanted to. A quietly vicious part of him imagined his brothers showing up, tearing into the human who'd dared to violate him so brutally with all the wrath that Heaven had left to give.
And then, another part of him, the part that had loved Dean Winchester since he'd first touched him – imagined stepping in front of Dean and fiercely warning his brothers away.
It made Castiel feel frustrated and guilty and small and just desperately confused. And the last thing he wanted was to be left alone in this unfamiliar room with nothing to keep him from slipping under, into the tumult of his emotions. The last thing he wanted was to have Sam out of his sight, when Dean was somewhere in the same building with them, the mark that kept Castiel at his mercy still carved into his skin.
Still, Castiel made himself draw back from Sam, keeping his eyes averted from the overwhelming concern and sympathy he knew were in Sam's eyes.
"O-okay," he said quietly, hating the way his voice wobbled over the word, hating how weak and small he sounded. "I – I'm okay. You can – go and draw the sigils now."
"Okay…" Sam sounded hesitant. "Cas… I can give you some more morphine before I go, if you want…"
"No." Castiel's stomach lurched, and he felt a damp chill go down his spine as he thought of Dean, and how he still had no idea where he was. He remembered the loss of control, the slipping-away sensation of the morphine overwhelming him, and panic pushed at the edges of his mind. He forced it back, swallowing hard and carefully repeating, calmer, "No. I – would rather stay awake until you return. Please."
"Okay. That's fine. What – whatever you need, Cas. Would you like me to – help you sit up, maybe?"
Sam's voice was quiet and carefully casual, and Castiel couldn't look at him. He felt a strange heat, as if Sam's eyes were burning him, self-conscious and uncomfortable and suddenly almost wanting Sam to leave him alone. And also wanting to grab Sam's arm and yank him back down and hold onto him and never let go.
Castiel hated this.
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his eyes burning. "Yes, please," he replied softly. "I think I would like that."
Castiel felt foolish and weak as Sam had to hold him up, in order to position the pillows on the bed to form a soft support for Castiel's back. Then came the awkward, frustrating process of finding a passably comfortable position against those pillows. Castiel had to lean sort of half-sideways in order to prevent crushing his damaged wings behind him. He bit back a cry of pain as Sam helped him sit back, even the slight pressure of the pillows behind him nearly unbearable where his wings brushed against them.
They felt like they were still on fire.
The blanket shifted down with his movement, allowing the cool air in the room to touch them, and the sensation was soothing, easing the pain momentarily. And yet, Castiel couldn't bear the thought of their being so exposed. He stopped Sam, just before he turned to walk away, with a hand on his sleeve. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed again, patient and concerned.
"What is it? What can I do?"
Castiel's throat felt tight, the words thick and clumsy, his face burning with the shame that was becoming dishearteningly familiar. "Sam… could you please… could you… cover…?"
"Oh, right, of course. I'm sorry." Sam's tone was light, the brush of his hand down Castiel's arm reassuring, and Castiel felt that strange prickling behind his eyes with the rush of relief and gratitude he felt that Sam understood, that he hadn't forced Castiel to finish the request. "Here you go…" Sam carefully pulled the blanket up, pushing the edge of it down behind the pillows so that it draped over Castiel's folded wings without putting too much pressure on them.
"I'll be right back," Sam promised, and Castiel hoped it would be true. "It shouldn't take long."
And indeed, Sam had only been gone a few minutes when Castiel heard footsteps approaching down the hall. He felt a momentary rush of relief, and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady his nerves and compose himself so that he didn't appear too pathetically relieved when Sam appeared in the doorway again.
He opened his eyes as the footsteps stopped, going so far as to attempt a smile for Sam's benefit.
Except… it wasn't Sam.
The smile died on Castiel's lips when he saw Dean standing in the hall, just outside the door, hands jammed into his pockets, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
"Hey, Cas."
Dean's voice was quiet and hesitant when he finally broke the silence – but it still sent shivers running down Castiel's spine, his heart racing and his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, he was trembling, and the motion sent fresh shockwaves of pain coursing up and down his spine, through his shattered wings. It was simply by sheer force of habit that he managed to get out a soft, breathless whisper.
"H-hello, Dean."
"I, uh… I didn't think you'd be awake." Dean's voice was soft, apologetic. "I just wanted to – to see how you're doing."
Despite Dean's obvious caution, the careful quiet of his words, the sound of his voice alone still made Castiel's stomach clench, nausea rolling up into his throat and threatening to spill over with the vivid memories that overwhelmed him – the acrid stench of burning feathers, the chill of that dank, stone room on his bare skin when Dean had finally put the flames out. Dean's voice had been soft and soothing then, too, just as it was now – deceptively gentle, falsely compassionate.
"I know it hurts, Cas… but you can make it stop… I know you know how…"
The intensifying of the tremors that passed through him made Castiel's wings ache and burn, fresh agony overwhelming him. The blanket Sam had wrapped around him began to slip down a little, exposing the top of Castiel's wings to the cool air of the room – but the physical relief was meaningless compared to the knowledge that he was uncovered, that Dean could see them...
"Can I, uh… can I come in? Is that okay?" Dean's voice was low and cautious, oblivious to the heat of shame that washed over Castiel, making his face burn and driving his eyes downward to the mattress and away from Dean's face.
The words themselves made Castiel's stomach lurch dangerously.
No, no, no, go away, don't come any closer, please just go away…
"Please, I – I mean, I don't… just…"
Castiel was aware that he was babbling, senseless words spilling, trembling, from his lips, as he tried to reach over his shoulder to the place where the blanket had fallen, tried to tug it back into place. But he couldn't quite reach it; the slight motion he'd managed to make was agony, the stretch of it pulling at his countless cuts and burns, causing his wings to brush against the pillows behind him. The light contact against the soft fabric burned like fire, like dragging raw flesh over broken glass, and Castiel couldn't choke back the cry of pain that rose to his lips.
"Cas?" Dean's voice sounded concerned, anxious, and he took a step forward into the room. "What is it? Do you need – can I help?"
The memory of Dean's hands on him – skillful fingers caressing over his broken skin with brutal intimacy, dragging casually through the damaged feathers of Castiel's wings, as if it meant nothing, as if Castiel was nothing but a broken toy for Dean to handle carelessly, as he chose - the very thought of Dean touching him overwhelmed Castiel with panic.
"No!" he cried out, flinching away from Dean – and in the process causing the blanket to fall away completely.
He reached out for it blindly, desperate to cover himself – but his clumsy, trembling hands couldn't get it back into place, and the pain, the panic, the utterly confusing press of everything he was feeling, all at once, was simply too much. Castiel gave up on hiding his wings, hiding his face instead in his folded arms, his knees pulled up in front of him.
"Shit, I'm sorry! I just… forget it, I'm sorry, Cas… I'm so sorry…"
Dean's voice was trembling and anxious, but no closer than it had been when he'd last spoken, and Castiel just stayed where he was, not looking up, not moving or making a sound. Every nerve was taut and screaming with agony, his heart racing, blood roaring in his ears.
And then, Dean was gone – hurried footsteps retreating down the hall. And it was still and quiet and over. Hot tears filled Castiel's eyes, his body racked with violent tremors – mingled relief and residual panic, as deep, wrenching sobs rose in his throat, tearing themselves free as he just sat there and hugged his knees, trying desperately not to think or feel or do anything at all but just wait for Sam to return.
"Sam?"
Sam was kneeling on the floor of the library, paper and pencil in hand as he carefully copied the sigils that lined the doorway, when he heard his brother's voice behind him – quiet and shaky and heavy with tears.
He turned to look up at Dean – and his heart sank when he saw the devastation in his eyes, the tears that streaked his face. Pencil and drawings forgotten on the floor behind him, Sam rose swiftly to his feet and closing the distance between them, reaching out to take his brother by his arms and steady him.
"Dean?" He spoke cautiously, concerned. "What happened?"
Dean wouldn't meet Sam's eyes, his mouth trembling as he shook his head. There was anguished defeat in his voice as he replied, hoarse and tearful. "I – I screwed it up. I just wanted to – to look in on him, I thought he'd be asleep, but he's awake, and – and now he's upset, and you need to get back in there, Sammy, I shouldn't have even tried, should have just left him the fuck alone, I'm such a fucking asshole…"
Dean's words trailed off as he shook his head, raising a hand to press at his eyes, as if trying to physically force the tears back. Sam's heart ached with compassion for his brother, and he raised one hand to rest high on Dean's shoulder, fingers brushing soothingly against the back of his neck.
"Dean… are you okay?" he asked softly, edging in closer.
"Don't worry about me, Sammy, I'm the one that fucked up," Dean protested, tearful and frustrated, shrugging out from under Sam's hands. "He needs you. He's all… he's fucking falling apart in there, so you'd better – just go, all right? Go take care of him."
Sam hesitated. Dean was the one who looked like he was falling apart.
"Dean…"
"Just go," Dean snapped. "I can wait, Sam. He can't. Go."
Sam wanted to protest, but he knew that Dean was probably right. Cas was the farthest thing from stable at the moment, and if he was lying alone in his room, in the middle of a panic attack while Sam wasted time trying to comfort his brother who wasn't willing to let himself be comforted at the moment…
"Okay," Sam relented at last. "Okay, I'm going. Just… I'll be right back, okay?"
Dean had turned away already, reaching down to collect Sam's discarded drawings. Sam stifled a sigh; he hadn't really expected a response, anyway. He turned and made his way down the hallway at a jog, slowing his pace as he neared the bedroom door, not wanting to startle Cas with a sudden entrance.
His heart sank at the sight that met his eyes when he stepped into the room.
Cas was huddled on the bed, curled into a tight little ball around his knees as if he was trying to make himself invisible. He was shaking violently, quiet, breathless sobs falling from his lips, as Sam carefully approached him.
"Cas?" Sam spoke softly, wanting to be sure Cas knew who was there before he sat down cautiously on the side of the bed. "Cas… you okay?"
Cas didn't answer, didn't look up, and Sam ventured to place a gentle hand across his shoulders, his free hand taking Cas's arm and tugging a little, encouraging Cas to leave the shelter of his own arms for Sam's, instead.
"Cas… hey, come here…"
Cas complied, turning into Sam's chest and clutching at the sides of his shirt. "I'm sorry," he cried, the words coming out halting and uneven, his breath hitched and labored. "I don't know what's… what's wrong with… me… sorry…"
"You're okay, shhh… you're okay…" Sam assured Cas, a hand carding slowly through his hair, thumb working in slow circles at the base of his neck as he pulled him in close and spoke softly near his ear, hushed and soothing. "You're safe, Cas… no one's gonna hurt you, you're safe… you're okay…"
"C-cover…" Cas choked out, barely intelligible amidst his breathless sobs. "Please… can you… please…"
It took Sam a second, but then he noticed that at some point, the blanket had fallen away from Cas's wings. And that uneasy feeling in the pit of Sam's stomach rose up again, even as he pulled the blanket up around Cas's shoulders to cover them again.
Was it possible that all this was really just because Dean had seen Cas's wings again? After everything he'd done to them?
Sam couldn't possibly know – not without talking to either Dean, or Cas, or both. And Cas was barely coherent at the moment. Maybe once he was calm, if Sam could get away long enough to try to talk to Dean, to get Dean to tell him what had happened in more detail…
"H-hurts… so much…" Cas sobbed out, breathless, his head pressed against Sam's chest, his body racked with fine tremors so strong that they shook the bed itself. "S-so bad…"
"Okay," Sam soothed him, his voice hushed and even. "Okay, Cas, let me get you some more medicine, okay? I know you don't want to sleep, but…"
"Are – are you going to stay?" Cas raised his head abruptly, searching Sam's eyes through his own, filled with tears. "I – don't want to sleep if you're going to – to leave…"
"I'm not going anywhere for a while," Sam assured him. "It's okay, let me help you, okay? Just a second…"
Sam felt a wave of relief himself when the needle slipped into Cas's skin, and Cas relaxed against Sam almost immediately, letting out a heavy, shaky breath.
"There we go," Sam said. "It's all right… that's it, Cas, just let it go, okay? You need to rest…"
Just before he faded out, Cas raised his head to meet Sam's eyes, blinking sleepily. "Sam?" he said, his voice just slightly slurred. "Please, I need… you have to…"
"What, Cas?" Sam pressed softly. "What is it?"
"Find the way to… to hide them," Cas persisted, struggling to find the words against the sleep that was overtaking him. "Please. They'll… heal better, and… and I can't… you're… not supposed to… to see... please…"
"Okay," Sam promised softly. "Okay, Cas, I will… just rest now, that's it… it's okay…"
Under the combination of the powerful medication and sheer exhaustion, it didn't take long for Cas to fall asleep completely. As he laid Cas down gently on the bed, Sam realized that he was going to have to break his first promise to keep this last, vitally more important one.
Cas was going to be out for hours; Sam had a lot of work to do before he woke up. He had to talk to Dean, to find out what exactly had triggered Cas's reaction. And he needed to spend some time in the library. Sam was suddenly certain that the spell to hide them was only one of many things he needed to learn about angels' wings.