"So… you're absolutely certain. This is the only way the spell can be reversed."

Cas's voice was quiet and calm, his posture erect and confident – but as Sam had carefully explained to him what Dean had discovered about the ritual they were about to perform – Cas's wings betrayed him. As Sam spoke, a supportive arm wrapped low around Cas's waist, Cas's beautiful, majestic wings had gone from a high arch in his excitement… to slowly wilting with every word that fell from Sam's lips, as what was going to be required of him became more and more clear.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam softly replied. "I've checked and double-checked - and then I checked again, and… I can't see another way. And maybe we could find a different spell, with enough time – or maybe there isn't one. We can't be sure." Sam sighed. "I just wish…"

"All right, then." Cas cut him off with a single, slow nod, his words unnaturally measured and even, his gaze focused straight ahead. "If you say it's what must be done, then… I trust that it's true. Whatever we have to do."

Sam felt the soft brush of feathers against his arm, heard the tell-tale rustling that betrayed how Cas was trembling. He instinctively shifted closer, his arm around Cas gently squeezing in an attempt at reassurance.

"Cas… it'll just be a minute, and it'll be over. It's gonna be…"

"May I…" Cas broke in, his voice slightly raised, and Sam fell silent, waiting. Cas hesitated a moment before meeting his eyes and asking, "May I… have a moment alone, please?"

When Sam returned to the library where he'd left his brother, Dean was pacing the floor, anxiously glancing at the clock on the wall. His eyes were wide and haunted as they darted up to meet Sam's, the moment Sam walked through the doorway.

"Is he coming?"

Dean's voice was impatient and fearful, as if he wasn't quite sure which answer he was hoping for. His excitement over finally finding the means to conceal Cas's wings again had lasted only about halfway through his explanation of the ritual to Sam, when it had slowly dawned on both of them just how difficult and traumatic the specifics of the spell would be for their friend.

"I think so," Sam replied, moving further into the room, closer to Dean. "He wanted a few minutes alone first, so I told him we'd wait for him here."

Dean nodded slightly, running a shaky hand down over his face before looking up at Sam with anguished eyes. Almost immediately his gaze shifted away, guilty. Sam ventured closer, reaching out to touch Dean's arm. Dean pulled away, but Sam shifted to block him, pressing in so that Dean's back was to the table and he couldn't get away. Only once there was no escape left to him did Dean allow himself to surrender, his shoulders falling, his head lowered as he drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

"I don't want to do this to him, Sammy," he confessed, his voice cracking over the words. "Not - not again."

"You know it's not the same thing." Sam reached out to put his arms around Dean and pull him in close. "This time, you're helping him. This is what he needs - and you're the only one that can do it for him."

"Yeah. And he wouldn't need it at all if I hadn't…" Dean's words trailed off, and he raised his hand again to press against tired eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

"This is different," Sam insisted. "It's his choice-"

"What choice?" Dean cut him off sharply, raising his head, his voice trembling with anger. "This isn't a choice. To let me do this ritual, or - or to never have his body be his own again? What the fuck kind of a choice is that?"

Sam had no reassuring answer to offer, because Dean was right. This sucked. So instead, he just stayed close, keeping his hands on Dean, hoping his touch was soothing, stabilizing - and it did seem to ease Dean's rattled nerves, judging by the way he leaned into Sam's touch, resting his head on Sam's chest for just a moment before looking up again.

Immediately, Sam felt Dean tense against him, and looked up to see that his eyes were locked onto the doorway. His stomach twisted with a sudden, irrational stab of guilt, and Sam automatically stepped back, moving away from Dean a little as he turned toward the door. This was not the time for Cas to find Sam locked in an embrace with the man who had tortured and violated him - the man who was about to put his hands on him again, in order to give him the closure he needed. Cas was far too fragile right now to have to…

The words faded, unfinished, in Sam's mind as his vision focused on Cas, standing just inside the library doorway - because "fragile" was not a word that could be used to describe the way he looked in that moment.

His posture was regal, his back straight and head held high. His eyes were wide and wary, but his expression was calm as he glanced between Sam and Dean, silently taking in the scene - and once again, Sam felt unreasonably ashamed. He resisted the urge to take another step away from his brother; Dean needed his support as much as Cas did in this moment - maybe more.

Because Cas seemed perfectly composed - calm and in control. As Cas slowly advanced until he was standing just a few short feet away from them, Sam found his eyes drawn toward Cas's wings - no longer folded against his back in that shamed, submissive stance from a few minutes earlier - but fully unfurled, erect and flowing out gracefully behind him as he moved.

The sight of him took Sam's breath, and he found his heart inexplicably racing.

Cas's voice was soft but steady when he broke the uneasy stillness that filled the room.

"I'm ready."

With an effort, Sam managed to draw his gaze away from Cas to look toward Dean, who glanced back at him uncertainly before turning his attention toward Cas - but his gaze remained somewhere around Cas's knees, unable to make eye contact.

"Are - are you sure? Because… if you need more time, we can…"

"I said I'm ready." there was an edge to Cas's voice, and his jaw was stubbornly set, defiance in his eyes. "Let's just… just get it done, please. I want…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes lowered as he swallowed hard. When he finished, his voice was softer, and the quiet desperation there made Sam's chest ache. "I just want it done."

Sam heard Dean draw in a shuddering breath beside him, before nodding once, firmly, squaring his shoulders, visibly steeling himself. "Okay," he agreed, a little too emphatically. "Okay, so… you know how this is gonna work, right? Sam…"

"He told me everything." Cas's tone was strained, a little impatient, and Sam noticed with alarm the way his wings twitched and shifted slightly, even as his human body remained still and outwardly calm. "I have been informed of all that you have to do. So do it."

"Right. Okay." Dean reached into his jacket and took out a knife.

Immediately, Cas's wings arched upward, assuming a stance that Sam recognized at once to be defensive - although Cas's human form barely flinched. Still, Sam could see the dread in Cas's eyes, the tension around his mouth as he struggled for control. Sam glanced back at the knife in Dean's hand - and was sick with sudden understanding.

The reversal spell had to be done by the same person who'd done the original spell – and it had to be done using the same knife that had originally shed Cas's blood.

Dean looked like he was trying for all he was worth just to not throw up, a slow swallow visible in his throat as he closed his eyes, holding up his empty hand in an appeasing gesture. "It just takes… a small cut, Cas… just enough to get a little blood," he explained in a voice that was apologetic, almost pleading. "So… wherever you want…"

Cas silently held out his arm, palm upward, toward Dean, though his wings maintained their poised, ready stance. Dean took a cautious step toward him, and they rose a little, like the hackles of a cat. They looked powerful, intimidating - but Sam could hear the faint sound of their trembling.

Dean's eyes widened as he took in the awesome, terrible sight of Cas's most natural weapon, battle ready - against him. He edged nearer to Cas, his every motion measured and cautious, eyes drifting warily between Cas's wings and his face.

"I - I don't want to do this," he said softly. "But… I'm the only one who can, so… so don't smite me, okay?" He let out a choked sound that was probably supposed to have been a laugh, but came out way too forced and fearful, before adding, "Then you'd be stuck like this forever, and that would suck, right?"

Cas blinked in surprise - and then his eyes narrowed, even as Sam cringed at his brother's poorly chosen attempt at levity.

To his credit, Dean realized how it sounded a moment later, and grimaced. "Sorry," he said. "That's not… that was stupid. What I meant was… I'm just trying to help." He hesitated a moment, biting his lip, before raising his eyes to Cas's face, his eyes pleading, his voice soft. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Cas-"

"No." Cas's voice was quiet, but edged with unmistakable certainty as he cut Dean off. "No, you're not."

As he spoke, Cas's wings arched upward just a little, and Sam's blood ran cold.

"Cas," he began, cautiously taking a step toward the angel, reaching out a steadying hand toward Cas's arm - but Cas side-stepped away from him with a wary glance. "It's okay," Sam insisted. "All right? Here, let me…"

"No, Sam," Cas said softly, his eyes back on Dean as he held up a hand toward Sam. There was a barely detectable tremor underlying his words as he stated, "You must not touch me. Not - not until this is done."

Sam froze, mentally double-checking Dean's research. He frowned, confused; there was no reason why he shouldn't touch Cas, no dangers involved with physical contact. He studied Cas, a little closer - and that was when he saw it. The almost frantic gleam in his eyes, the way his outstretched hand was shaking just a little. Cas seemed calm and controlled, as ready as he could possibly be for what had to be done.

But his control was an illusion; he was just one moment of panic away from smiting first… and regretting it forever.

"I'm… I'm all right," Cas insisted, tense and quiet, not taking his eyes off Dean. "Just - please just get it done."

Only a step remained between where Cas stood, and Dean. Another taut moment passed before Dean managed to tear his gaze away from Cas's wings, draw in a deep breath… and close that remaining distance. Standing only inches from Cas, the knife in his trembling hand, Dean finally ventured to lift his eyes to Cas's face.

It was a cruel parody of a familiar scene Sam had been witness to many times - Dean and Cas, unnaturally close, Cas's eyes locked onto Dean in open fascination, as if he was a brand new mystery to be figured out, every single time that they met. Only this time, Dean was staring back at Cas with sorrow in his eyes, as if he was seeing something precious and priceless, something he hadn't even realized was his until it had been snatched from his hand.

Sam had known about Dean's feelings for Cas before Dean did - but it didn't make him jealous. There was no question in Sam's mind that he was and always would be Dean's entire world. So, it had always made him happy to see the way Cas looked at Dean, as if Dean was his entire world. Dean deserved that, though he'd never see it.

Now, however, Cas's watchful eyes were guarded, wary, as if he was trying to figure out how he could possibly have been so betrayed, how someone who was everything to him could have hurt him so badly… how everything could have gone so horribly wrong.

"Cas…" Dean broke the silence, his voice aching with sorrow. "I - I'm so…"

"Don't." Cas's sad eyes didn't falter, but there was something raw and desperate in his whisper. "I - I know, Dean. But… it doesn't…" Cas shook his head, at a loss, his gaze finally dropping as he closed his eyes and lowered his head a little, pointedly holding out his arm a little further. "Just… do it. Now. Please."

Dean was quiet for a moment, watching Cas with defeated eyes, before he finally replied. "Yeah. Okay."

He drew in a shuddering breath, reaching out an unsteady hand to take Cas's wrist in a firm but gentle grasp. Cas's wings jerked and his breath caught audibly in his throat, but he didn't strike out or pull his arm away, or even open his eyes. Dean hesitated, lips parted as if to warn Cas, but then he seemed to think better of it, and drew the blade swiftly and surely across Cas's forearm.

Blood welled up quickly from the cut, and Dean slid his hand across it, collecting it on his fingers, then doing the same with his other hand. Cas opened his eyes and looked down at the wound for a moment before glancing up at Dean again. Dean made eye contact with him, making sure Cas saw what he was doing before he reached out toward Cas's wings where they curled forward around his body.

Dean hesitated just a moment before placing his blood-stained hands against the surface of the gleaming black feathers. His voice shook and broke over the awkward Enochian that fell from his lips, and Sam's own vision blurred when he saw the tears that streaked Dean's face, illuminated by the brilliant white light that began to glow, and then shine forth from the point of contact between Dean and Cas, swelling and brightening until Sam had to turn his head away and close his eyes.

As the light faded away, Sam blinked a few times, his vision slowly coming into focus. He heard the echo of swiftly retreating footsteps, and wasn't surprised that by the time he could see clearly again, Dean was nowhere to be found. Cas stood alone, still and silent, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach. The spell had worked, and his wings were no longer visible - and Sam immediately felt guilty for the irrational sense of loss he felt at that realization.

This was what Cas wanted, what he needed - to have his privacy, his dignity returned to him.

So… why did he look so utterly bereft? His eyes were downcast, and so very, very sad.

"Cas?" Sam kept his voice soft, cautious, as he took a step toward him.

Cas looked up at Sam, blinking, and he looked so lost, so utterly shell-shocked, that Sam immediately closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping his arms around as and pulling him close.

Cas remained rigid, unmoving, for a long moment… before his body slowly, slowly began to relax into Sam's arms. And then his own arms came up to slide around Sam's waist, and he buried his face in Sam's shirt. His entire body was shivering, and Sam instinctively shifted him closer.

"Shhh," Sam whispered, running his hand slowly, soothingly over the smooth expanse of pale skin where only moments earlier, Cas's wings had been, and trying not to think about the cold ache he felt at their absence. "It's okay. I've got you, Cas… I've got you…"

Cas's shaking hands grasped at Sam's sides, and his head pressed against Sam's sternum, so hard it almost hurt, as if he was trying to literally hide himself in Sam. His entire body was shaking all over as he gasped for breath - and suddenly, Sam understood why Cas had told him not to touch him until the spell was complete. It wasn't the fear of lashing out that had made Cas reject his support.

It was the fear of breaking down.

Cas had managed to pull himself together, to hold onto a facade of strength and composure that he needed to help him face the prospect of willingly allowing Dean to put his hands on him, on his wings, again - but he'd been desperately clutching at it, barely able to keep it within his grasp, and he'd known what Sam knew now - all it would have taken to shatter him was a single, gentle touch of Sam's hand.

"It's all right," Sam whispered, raising one hand to stroke gently through Cas's hair, his words thick with the protective tenderness he felt. "It's over now, Cas. It's really over. Okay? You're all right…"

It was strange, how now that his wings were hidden, Cas seemed more vulnerable and exposed to Sam than he'd ever seemed before. His breathing was hitched and uneven, his skin cool and shivering under Sam's hand. Sam wasn't sure whether he was actually cold, or just in shock, but he drew back a little, shrugging out of the loose, unbuttoned shirt he wore over his t-shirt and then wrapping it gently around Cas's shoulders. Cas settled in closer to him, slowly regaining control of the residual panic released in the wake of the ritual.

"Sam," he said at last, his voice a hoarse sob, and he raised his head a little - but whatever he wanted to say, he couldn't seem to get it out, and only repeated, his shoulders shaking and his voice muffled against Sam's t-shirt. "Sam…"

"I'm here," Sam murmured, closing his eyes and lowering his head. He almost, almost pressed a kiss into Cas's hair - but stopped himself at the last moment. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart racing; that was for Dean - and the last kind of complication Cas needed right now. "I-I'm here, Cas… it's all right," he repeated, trying to ignore the heavy pit in his stomach and focus on what Cas did need from him.

Whatever questions or feelings Cas had wanted to voice, but couldn't, Sam's response seemed to calm him, and he went quiet, gradually stilling against Sam's chest. Finally, he drew back, looking down at the enormous shirt wrapped around his shoulders. He glanced up at Sam, and the hesitant half-smile, the wondering look in his eyes as he slid his arms into the sleeves of Sam's shirt made Sam's stomach twist uncomfortably - because this was wrong, so wrong to let Cas feel this way, to let him go on seeing Sam with such grateful, worshipping eyes.

And… that wasn't even the worst of it. Sam tried to ignore the way the look on Cas's face made him feel, how ridiculously adorable Cas looked in his shirt, practically swimming in the extra folds of soft fabric… how much he wanted to brush Cas's disheveled hair out of his face with a tender kiss, to slide his hands under the shirt and pull Cas into his arms again.

He knew Cas would let him. Hell, Cas would be fucking grateful for Sam's attention and affection - never guessing that there might be a reason why he shouldn't be.

A sick feeling of guilt crept up Sam's throat, but he managed to hold a reassuring smile until Cas impulsively, unabashedly hugged him again, his face pressed against Sam's chest. He seemed to be too overwhelmed to speak - and that was okay, because Sam couldn't speak, either.

Not when he knew what he really needed to say.

He just held onto Cas for a while longer, and wondered how he was ever going to find the strength to do what he had to do, and soon.

Because Cas's feelings weren't the only ones that were beginning to get out of hand.

Dean couldn't stand to be in that room a moment longer.

The unmasked betrayal and hurt on Cas's face, the way he had to brace himself with all his strength just to tolerate a simple touch from Dean's hand - Dean couldn't blame Cas, not for any of it. But it just hurt too much to linger there, continuing to feel it. Cas's wings had vanished back to wherever they usually were, which meant the spell had worked - which meant that Dean was no longer needed.

Sam'll take care of him…

The bitter thought was no less painful than Cas's rejection; in fact, it was just a reminder of it. And retreating to his own room didn't help - not when all Dean could picture was Cas's wounded, tearful eyes staring up at him… and Sam, stepping in the moment he'd gone, to comfort Cas and hold him and perfectly fill the empty space in Cas's heart that had once been overflowingwith Dean.

The satisfaction of having put to rights one of the many wrongs he'd done to Cas quickly shifted into restlessness; his mission accomplished, Dean needed something else to occupy his mind, or he was going to lose it.

He returned to the library, only long enough to take a stack of inventory files from the cabinet. He was there less than a minute - but it was long enough to catch a glimpse of Sam with his arms locked around Cas, leaning against the edge of the table to support both of their weight… Cas's face buried against him, and Sam's shirt wrapped around him.

This is wrong, he thought, not for the first time. It's… it's fucking sick.

Sam avoided his eyes as he passed - and that was just fine with Dean.

He retreated to the deepest part of the bunker with which he was familiar - the dungeon-slash-storage room, where he was fairly certain he'd find what he was looking for, if it existed to be found. A couple of hours later, and he was seated cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and files spread out around him, his thoughts successfully distracted - mostly - from whatever was going on in the rest of the bunker.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and Dean stifled a sigh. He wasn't in the mood for a heart to heart about the hurt and jealousy and other feelings that he was trying very hard not to have at the moment.

"We need to tell him the truth."

Sam blurted out the words, as if he was afraid he'd lose his nerve if he didn't speak as quickly as possible - and Dean froze, caught off guard. It wasn't at all what he'd expected to be on his brother's mind. He didn't look up, though, kept his gaze on the file in his hand, kept his tone as level as possible.

"Bad idea. He's gonna freak."

"Maybe," Sam conceded, moving further into the room, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've still gotta tell him. He's… he's getting… too attached."

Dean finally looked up at his brother, taking in the stubborn set of his mouth, the challenge in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "No shit, Sherlock."

Sam looked away, visibly uncomfortable, a slight falter in his resolved tone as he persisted. "I'm just concerned, because if he has… feelings... it's inappropriate, considering."

"Inappropriate like him walking around in your clothes?" Dean let out a derisive huff of laughter. "Good thing you never got a letterman's jacket. You gonna give him a ring, next?"

"Dean…" Sam sighed, and the patient, tolerant tone of his voice was more than Dean could bear. "He was cold, okay? He wasn't wearing anything, so I let him wear my shirt. It doesn't mean anything…"

"And Cas is the only one." Dean cut Sam off flatly, lowering the file in his hand and studying his brother closely until Sam reluctantly met his gaze. He searched his brother's eyes as he clarified, "With these… inappropriate feelings."

Sam couldn't hold Dean's gaze - and that was answer enough. Still, he swallowed hard, then finally spoke, his tone forced and taut.

"No."

A sharp ache tightened in Dean's chest, and he returned his gaze to the file, nodding with a mirthless smile. His voice remained controlled, but the words were too sharp, too accusing; he knew it, but he still couldn't seem to stop them from spilling out.

"So… you wanna tell Cas the truth… so you don't have to feel so guilty about wanting to get into his pants."

"That's not fair," Sam retorted, voice hot and trembling with defensive anger.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, laying aside the file and digging into the box nearest him for the item it told him he should find there. "But what is fair, these days?"

"Us, being honest with him." Sam's voice was quiet, but filled with the intensity of his conviction. "And… taking whatever consequences that brings."

Dean thought about it for a moment, trying to imagine Cas's face if Sam were to tell him - and no matter how the Sam in his mind phrased it, no matter how gentle his approach, Dean couldn't envision a scenario in which Cas wouldn't end up devastated and alone.

"And the consequences for him? What's the truth gonna do to him?"

"He's stronger all the time," Sam insisted. "He won't be happy-"

"Understatement," Dean scoffed.

"Okay, he's gonna be fucking pissed!" Sam admitted. "Of course he is! But - we can't lie to him forever, and the longer we wait…" He stopped, shaking his head slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost imploring. "We have to, Dean. He has the right to know. And the longer he goes on not knowing, the more it's gonna hurt when he finds out."

"And then what?" Dean asked, feeling a moment's satisfaction even in the midst of the argument, when he found the set of heavy iron shackles, etched with complicated spellwork, that the inventory file indicated should be there. "You two skip merrily off into the sunset?"

He was careful to keep his tone lightly mocking, indifferent.

Apparently, he failed.

"Dean…" Sam moved closer to him, and the concern in his voice grated on Dean's raw nerves. The last thing he needed right now was Sam's pity. "How could you think that? That I'd want to leave you?"

Dean turned away, scanning the file again, though he wasn't actually taking in any of what was written there. His eyes burned, and he swallowed back the knot in his throat.

"Even when we talked about this before," Sam continued, "when it was you and Cas… it was never about leaving. It was always gonna be the three of us…"

The ache in Dean's chest was overwhelming as he thought back over the conversation Sam was talking about, one they'd had way back in the final days before the Apocalypse that wasn't, when Cas had been human and they'd all been staying at Bobby's and preparing for a battle they weren't sure they'd actually win. It had felt good, to consider the possibilities, how promising it had all felt at the time - once the Apocalypse was over, once they had time to rest for a little while, and help Cas acclimate to being human, how things could have been for them.

But then Sam had gone to Hell to stop the devil, and Cas had become an angel again and shattered Dean's trust with the best of his intentions, and… everything had fallen apart.

And now… now, that was a dream that was shattered beyond repair.

Dean glanced up at Sam, and saw the reflection of his own bitter memories on his brother's face, the regret for speaking about it at all. He bit his lip and looked away, blinking back tears.

Yeah. That's a thing that's never gonna happen. Not now. You made damn sure of that.

Dean struggled to find his voice, needing to regain control, to turn the conversation away from the painful point it had reached.

"He's not ready," he said at last, his voice hoarse but mostly steady. "Not for the truth, and not for…" He waved a hand in a vague gesture in Sam's general direction. "He's just not ready."

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Dean knew he was debating whether or not to insist on dealing with the can of worms he'd just accidentally opened. He was relieved when Sam finally spoke, a simple response to Dean's objections.

"Well... I think you're wrong about the first part," Sam insisted quietly. "And… once he knows the truth… the other part won't matter. Because he won't want anything to do with me, either."

Dean looked up sharply, startled. It had crossed his mind, yeah - but he hadn't realized that Sam had thought of that. He was so willing to come clean; Dean hadn't really considered that Sam knew doing so might cost him his fledgling bond with Cas.

"He has to know, Dean," Sam reiterated softly, a sad, knowing look in his eyes. "Whatever happens. It's not fair to let him – fall for me, and… and not know."

Dean was quiet for a moment, subdued and contemplative - looking at his brother's motives in a somewhat different light. Finally he sighed - relented. "If you have to. I - I might not like it, but - I'll back you. Whatever you feel like you need to do, Sammy."

Sam let out a shaky sigh, relief and gratitude in his eyes as he nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Dean." His weak smile faded a little as he paused near the door, turning back for a moment to look over the mess surrounding Dean. He appeared to be trying to figure it out for a few moments before he finally gave up.

"What are you doing, anyway?" he asked at last.

"Moving on to item number two on the to-do list," Dean replied. After a moment, he looked up to meet Sam's confused frown with a cold smile, his voice soft and controlled. "Crowley," he explained. "I'm gonna find him. I'm gonna catch him. And I'm gonna kill him. But only when he begs me to." Dean's smile faltered a little, a sharp pang of memory running through him as he concluded softly, "Like Cas did."

Sam looked back down at the assembled items with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in surprise, and Dean braced himself for the disapproval - the expected speech about the dangers of giving in to his darker nature - but it didn't come. Instead, after a moment, Sam simply nodded, a grim half-smile touching his lips.

"Good," he replied, and Dean blinked, surprised. "Let me know if you need any help."

Dean collected himself enough to nod in response, and Sam left - but Dean didn't anticipate needing any help with this particular task.

This was something he wanted to do himself.

Sam made his way to his own room, hoping to get some time to himself to think, to try to come up with some way of telling Cas the truth that wouldn't absolutely crush him, and leave him feeling like he couldn't trust anyone. Cas was getting better, and stronger all the time - but he clearly still needed support, and Sam didn't know where he would get it if he couldn't turn to either of the Winchesters.

He opened his bedroom door, and then froze, startled.

Cas was sitting on the end of his bed, hands folded in his lap, looking up expectantly toward the door.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam forced a smile, though his stomach was fluttering nervously. "Hey, Cas."

"I hope it's all right that I'm in here," Cas said quietly, anxious eyes studying Sam's face as he approached and sat down beside him. "I just - I wished to speak with you, and I didn't want to disturb your time with Dean, so I thought I'd wait here."

Sam was overwhelmed by the rush of affection he felt for this angel of the Lord, so uncertain and eager to please and still wrapped up in Sam's shirt like a - God, like that fucking blanket! - Sam winced, closing his eyes and struggling to steady himself. That was it. Cas was looking at him as some kind of savior, his protection against a world that no longer made sense to him - with no clue how little of that trust Sam actually deserved.

He had to come clean.

He had to do it now.

"Sam?" Cas's voice was concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, smiling reassurance at Cas as he automatically reached out to put his arm around him - as natural as breathing. Like there was no reason in the world not to do so - and Cas scooted a little closer on the mattress, happily settling into the space under Sam's arm as if he was made to fit there. "I'm fine."

God, how did I let us get here?

"Good," Cas said, oblivious to Sam's turmoil. "I just - I wanted to thank you. And - to apologize."

Sam forced a lightly warning tone, a teasing smile. "We talked about this, remember?"

"No, I - I am sorry," Cas insisted, looking up at him regretfully, his face mere inches from Sam's, and perfectly comfortable with that. "I was harsh with you when I told you not to touch me. And - I wanted you to touch me." He spoke it as a matter of fact - a simple, obvious statement for which he felt no shame, no self-consciousness. "I always want you to touch me, Sam."

Sam's stomach clenched, his heart racing.

Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

"It's just that… I knew, if you did… I couldn't… I couldn't stay strong enough to let Dean finish the ritual. But - you have to know that I still couldn't have done it without you there. Without - knowing that when it was over, you'd - you'd be there, and… and I'd be safe…"

Sam's heart was heavy with guilt, Cas's earnest, guileless words tearing at his resolve.

Open and adoring, and God, so fucking blue that it hurt, Cas's eyes slowly took in Sam's face, with something between awe and gratitude. "I was harsh with you, and… ungrateful, and… you need to know how much I needed you there, Sam. I - always do."

Finally, Cas lowered his gaze, and Sam remembered to breathe - though he couldn't take his eyes from his angel's face. There was self-consciousness there now, and the hushed tone of a confession as Cas continued.

"It - it scares me, sometimes." He looked up again, confusion and yearning in his eyes as he clarified, "How much I need you."

Something in Cas's face was so vulnerable, so pleading for reassurance - and Sam could do nothing but give it to him. He raised a hand to tenderly push Cas's hair back, allowing his fingers to linger, stroking gently and feeling a little thrill when Cas's eyes fell closed for a moment in pleasure before focusing on Sam's face again, solemn and waiting. Sam held his gaze, his voice quiet and intent, as he promised.

"You've got me. Okay?"

Cas nodded, relief falling over his features, eyes shining up at Sam in unmasked adoration, and Sam couldn't resist the impulse to pull Cas into a hug, warmth blooming through his body as Cas returned it without hesitation.

"I'm right here… and I'm not going anywhere," Sam promised softly.

And deep down inside, he knew it was a mistake. He knew he should have come clean, right then and there - but he just couldn't. Not yet.

I'll give him just a little more time… let him get a little stronger, a little surer, on his own… and then I'll tell him.

Just… not quite yet...