SPN Fic: The Seeds Of Love I Sow, Sam/Castiel, PG-13
Title: The Seeds Of Love I Sow
Author: hildigunnur
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Word Count: ~3.000
Disclaimer: Characters etc. belongs to Kripke & Co. No one is making profit of this.
Summary: Sam has an angel on his shoulder. Sort of a coda to SPN 5.14.
Notes: This one is posted just under wire, peeps (as 5.15 is airing tomorrow). This one is for sarka - maybe it's a very belated birthday gift or something. It's up to her. Thanks to sigrundora for the shits, giggles and the beta. Title from Led Zeppelin's Houses Of The Holy.
He probably should feel weak and clammy, but he doesn't. As agonized as he felt while the effects of the demon blood were leaving his system, he feels relatively okay now. Relatively being the operative word. The addiction is still there, screaming inside of him, but he is in control. It is nothing like what he'd felt when the two demons had come into the motel room and he'd become absolutely frenzied with thirst for their blood, with the thirst to possess the power the blood gave him.
He doesn't call out for Dean or Castiel. Just lies there on the too short bed, waiting for them.
Taking a deep breath, he tries his best to clear his mind of his hallucinations. Mostly he'd seen Lucifer but Dean had been there as well. Looking at him with a look that somehow was Dean's every look of betrayal combined. He hadn't said much, just looked at him and it felt like a sharp knife in Sam's gut.
Then there had been Castiel. He had appeared with benediction in his eyes, not saying a word, laying a finger on his lips as Sam tried to speak.
"You are forgiven."
With Castiel's light touch to his cheek, Sam felt the absolution he craved.
Still, that was a delusion and nothing more. He'd never be absolved. He never had Heaven's favor to begin with.
Looking up at the fan in the ceiling, at the pentagram, he allows himself to be wistful for just few moments, wishing that fate had bypassed his family. That Heaven would simply have left Mary Campbell and John Winchester the fuck alone.
He'd gladly pay with his own existence to not be a part of this cosmic fuck-up.
+++
"Sam, Sam, wake up."
He must have fallen asleep. Dean is shaking him awake and Castiel is hovering by Dean's shoulder.
"You okay?" Dean looks over him and Sam sees the concern in his brother's eyes.
"As good as I can be," he says dryly, gripping Dean's extended arm to rise from the bed. Dean pats him on the back when he is on his feet and then turns away out of the panic room. Castiel lingers, looking at Sam with his intense gaze.
"Dean prayed to Heaven," he says and Sam understands what he means.
"He didn't say yes, did he?" He is sure it was Dean himself and not some archangel sporting his mug.
Castiel shakes his head.
"He asked Heaven for help," Castiel looks up at him. "He asked for help for you."
"And… Cas, did they answer? Is Dean going to say yes?"
"They didn't come. But Dean was ready to say yes if he could guarantee help for you and that at the end of this all, you wouldn't suffer Hell."
Sam snorts. Heaven could hardly have agreed to that. He is going to Hell, one way or another.
+++
They stay at Bobby's for a while. It's hard for Sam not to pretend that he doesn't feel like a restless animal in a cage and he's probably shooting Dean as many concerned glances as his brother is sending him.
He could yell Why? at the universe until he's blue in the face but the thing that is making him raw and restless is how every attempt he and Dean have made to rebuild the trust between them, has been shot down like fate keeps having a target practice with it.
That's why he feels trapped, being there at Bobby's. Because they don't have a job to take their minds of how he got his blood addiction back and how Dean apparently is smooching up to heaven and how freaking fractured everything between them is. He looks at his brother and sees someone he loves, someone he would give up his life for in second and the cracks feel even bigger.
Dean is sitting at the kitchen table with what looks their and Bobby's entire arsenals, cleaning out a shotgun that looks like no one has used it for a very long time. Sitting in front of his laptop, Sam keeps looking at him instead of concentrating on his research. He doesn't really know what he's expecting, that the next time he looks up, Michael will be there, flaming sword and all, ready for some smiting.
Since Dean has always been so insistent that he'll never say yes, Sam has never given it a thought what he'd do if it ever came to that. He can't see himself saying yes. Instead he envisions scarifying himself so Lucifer can never get his destined vessel. Surely Michael should be able to kill him in such a way that he could never be put back together.
At least that would get this fucking Apocalypse over quickly.
He pushes the books he's been reading away and gets up, craving fresh air. Since the lockdown he has hardly been outside.
Bobby's salvage yard perhaps isn't the ideal place to breathe in the fresh air, but Sam feels good not being confined within closed walls.
Wandering aimlessly amongst the wreckage, he tries to clear his mind of the jumbled up emotions inside of him. They all stand a better change if he's focused.
With deep breaths, he does his best to push off that cover of blanketing anger that dampens every feeling and thought he has. There's confusion and hurt and that general hugeness of his feelings towards his older brother. They are like a mountain that no one will be able to grind down. His determination to do the right thing looms there, tainted by bitter remorse. Taking another deep breath, he thinks about the other people in his life. It aches that he and Dean are truly down to a couple of people they can trust.
Bobby and Cas.
Bobby is like a father to them. Well, no one can ever fill the black hole John Winchester left but Bobby is there to call them idjits when they deserve it. And Sam worries about Bobby like he's one of the family, all initiated into their dysfunction.
Then there is Castiel. Sam remembers how excited he was to meet him and how Castiel put him in his place. Not that Sam had any delusions about being in Heaven's particular favor but it had smarted a bit to get not get approved by Heaven on what he had thought was the right thing to do. Back then he had been the tiniest bit vary of Castiel.
Now, Cas is their comrade; a brother in arms.
Still it goes deeper than mere bloodletting and sacrificing oneself for a fellow soldier. Dean and Castiel have this partnership bond and Sam knows that Castiel's sometimes stoic nature soothes Dean. He and Cas though? At some point after Dean called him back, Castiel had become his friend; not exactly family like Dean and Bobby, because family you sometimes tolerate because you love them, but someone he trusts and likes. Someone who has crawled under his skin and he trusts completely.
Leaning against a rusty van with no tires and a broken windshield, he looks into the waning daylight and fancies himself looking at a metaphor. How the sun is setting on the universe.
He never claimed he was a poet but it makes him melancholic to know that the world probably is ending.
Castiel is standing next to him. Of course he didn't hear him coming but he definitely feels the hand that is laid on his shoulder.
"Sam."
The simple address is so laden that Sam's knees almost give away. He looks at Castiel without answering him, almost challenging him; to what he isn't sure.
"It's not within my authority to forgive you, Sam. If Dean has forgiven you, then it's all up to you."
He wants to spit out a fuck you to Castiel for being no help at all but the angel is absolutely right and he doesn't want to delve into that particular mire yet.
"So, Cas, if we all survive and the world doesn't end. What will you do? Go back to Heaven?"
"Not welcome there anymore. Though if I find our Father..." Castiel trails off and Sam has never heard him do that before. It's probably terrifying for a creature who has dealt with absolutes all its existence to experience doubt. Maybe he's doomed to be here on Earth forever. Maybe angels can live in human bodies forever, never change and never age.
"What about Jimmy, Cas? He's still there inside of you; I mean his spirit hasn't left the vessel?"
Castiel looks at him, eyes unwavering. "Jimmy is still there. I can't wear an empty vessel."
"Oh, so it's different for angels."
"We need the spirit to be present to be able to anchor ourselves to the vessel. That's how vessels work."
A sickening thought creeps into Sam's mind.
"Demons don't need the spirit though. Ruby had a spiritless body."
"No." Castiel's answer is simple and to the point. "Her body might have more dead than alive but the spirit was still there."
"No, I mean, all she did was lying and tricking me but that's how she gained my trust to begin with. Her meat suit was empty, it has to be." Sam's chest tightens. What if Ruby had lied about this as well? She had proved herself to be the greatest con-artist Sam had ever encountered and to think she used a body with the spirit of some poor girl to do all she did with him; the sex, the blood drinking. He remembers very well how it felt to be possessed and while it had been Meg who had possessed him and she definitely was a tad more sadistic than Ruby, the girl inside Ruby had to have been awake for some time and then she had been killed because the demon wearing her, had it coming.
"Sam, are you okay?"
"I..." He looks at Castiel's passive face and ducks behind the van. Bending over, he dry heaves; the guilt lodged in his throat.
He rises up, almost shaking and Castiel is standing over him.
"Don't blame yourself," he says.
Sam runs his hand over his face, trying to wipe away sweat. Of course he blames himself. He remembers the spirit of the girl Meg being so angry for them not noticing her and allowing the hell bitch to ride her. How was this any different? This was even worse. That girl, who Ruby wore, hadn't had an autonomy over her body. He had raped her. He had defiled her body in ways he didn't even want to think about now. For some reason he feels worse about this than killing and drinking the blood of those demons Famine had sent or any of the other demons because the people inside had at least received a merciful death right away. Ruby's host hadn't.
"Sam, you should forgive yourself for all of this. You are not evil."
What Castiel is trying to tell him is slowly penetrating the thick skin of self-accusation he's wearing. His intensions were honorable. All he had tried to do was to do the right thing, though he had gotten hopelessly lost along the way. Knowing that Castiel believes this as well smoothes out the gnawing ache in his heart.
"I... Cas, why are you saying all this to me?" The words feel cumbersome in his mouth, like he's not supposed ask this.
Castiel's gaze doesn't waver one second.
"Because it's true, Sam."
For some reason, Sam's mouth dries out and his hands feel tingly. He slumps against the van. It's like he's bursting at the seams, all the conflicting feelings clamoring to gush forward. Where that would lead, he doesn't know. All he knows, he can't allow himself that. He needs to keep it together for now. His hands hit the cold steel behind him, the pain on his knuckles a relief.
"Sam." Castiel is still there and he steps towards him and cups his cheek, just like the Castiel in his hallucination had done. This touch is different. There's nothing calming about it, it's hot like Castiel is burning up and instinctively Sam grabs the hand. As his fingers lock around the angel's wrist, he realizes it's not to push him away. He pulls Castiel closer, so close that he collides with Sam's chest.
Sam's challenge is mirrored in Castiel's eyes and then he reaches up with his loose hand and clutches the front of Sam's jacket.
Then Castiel kisses Sam, his chapped lips tightly puckered like he's a little kid kissing his grandmother. But the way he's pushing Sam against the van tells Sam that this isn't in the familiar way.
He wants to kiss back, open up the kiss and taste Castiel's mouth but he must pull away, the knowledge that Ruby's meat suit wasn't empty still raw in his mind.
"Cas, I… Jimmy, what about Jimmy?"
Castiel pulls away, still grabbing his jacket.
"That's why we ask permission. That's what saying yes means."
The realization hits him. Of course the yes extends to everything - the angels don't hesitate to kill, wearing their vessels - saying yes is to surrender one's body completely. He nods as he curls his arm around Castiel, stoops down and claims the angel's lips, finding them pliable.
There's no need to question what's happening. As he deepens the kiss, opening Castiel's mouth under his, it feels like he's finally rambled down the right track; right on its own, not because he's willing it to be right.
Castiel surges up into the kiss, an awkward mix of inexperience and want. It's too much, too soon.
Sam is used to taking the reins, yet it feels strange to try to stem the carnal hunger of this powerful being. He wants this as well but not up against a rusty van in Bobby's junk yard. Both of them deserve better.
As he pulls away from the kiss, he can hear his brother's words in his mind: What's with you and banging monsters?
Castiel's blue eyes are fixed on him, the pupils blown, his breathing audibly fast. Cas is no monster, not in Dean's book at least but he's not human.
"I need to talk to Dean," Sam says and Castiel nods as he takes a moment to stroke Sam's jaw.
+++
Dean is watching TV when they come back inside, changing the channel every ten seconds but always going back to Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?, muttering the answers and glaring at the contestants like the bumbling attempts to answer deeply offend him. He doesn't look up when Sam ambles to the couch and sits down next to him. Castiel looms at the door, looking from Sam to Dean and in the direction of the kitchen where Bobby can clearly be heard pottering around, making dinner.
"Dean," Sam says, taking the remote control from his brother's hand and turns off the TV. That gets Dean's attention.
"Sam," he says, and the tone is flat, like Dean had worked at sucking all emotion out of the name.
"I know you called for Heaven… Dean, look at me." Sam pulls at his brother when Dean tries to get off the couch. "I'm… you didn't say yes, I know. I wanted to thank you, Dean."
Dean looks downright incredulous.
"What the hell, Sammy? I go and do a monumentally stupid thing. Basically putting a neon sign on where we are so Michael and probably Lucifer as well can swoop down and take us over and you freaking thank me."
"Because you didn't give up on me, Dean. You could have decided you had enough."
Slapping Sam's shoulder, Dean chuckles and raises his eyebrow like he doubts that even Sam would think such a foolish thing. That Dean would ever give up on him.
"What's got Cas?" he then asks, titling his head towards the angel who is watching them and two-stepping like he's a small child who wants to ask for a puppy really badly.
"Yeah, Dean. That." Sam bites his lips and runs his hand through his hair. Dean lifts his eyebrows up to his hairline.
"Did you two break into Bobby's liquor cabinet or something?"
"No, we…"
"Sam, you are like a high-school girl bringing her first boyfriend home to meet her parents."
Castiel's face is turning oddly red and he is making tiny choking noises. Sam struggles to keep face and Dean looks between them.
"Guys…"
"Dean, I don't want to keep anything from you, not after everything and you should know about this…" It's hard to find the words when he doesn't know himself what is exactly going with him and Cas.
"Spit it out, Sam. I'm not going to lock you in the panic room… well, probably not."
"I've sorta fallen for Cas."
Dean emulated a guppy for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, doubling over. Sam glanced at Castiel who seemed to be experiencing a mix of relief and nausea.
"I just have to say it, Sam. You're such a girl."
"Don't be a jerk, Dean."
"Sam, seriously, you can't expect me to leave this one alone." Dean grins from ear to ear and Sam can't help but smile himself as he pushes himself off the couch. His brother is okay with this. He'll probably never say it out loud.
"No, I suppose not." He wants to say thanks but Dean has enough ammunition as it is.
Cas is still fidgeting by the door when Sam comes over and takes his hand. The angel's grip is tight, his hand damp with sweat and Sam can't help but gathering Castiel into his arms.
Dean almost manages to ruin the moment but not quite though.
"Sam and Cas sitting in a tree… K… I… S… S… I… N… G…"
If Cas wasn't burrowing into his chest right now, Sam would flip his brother the bird.
-fin
Author: hildigunnur
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Word Count: ~3.000
Disclaimer: Characters etc. belongs to Kripke & Co. No one is making profit of this.
Summary: Sam has an angel on his shoulder. Sort of a coda to SPN 5.14.
Notes: This one is posted just under wire, peeps (as 5.15 is airing tomorrow). This one is for sarka - maybe it's a very belated birthday gift or something. It's up to her. Thanks to sigrundora for the shits, giggles and the beta. Title from Led Zeppelin's Houses Of The Holy.
He probably should feel weak and clammy, but he doesn't. As agonized as he felt while the effects of the demon blood were leaving his system, he feels relatively okay now. Relatively being the operative word. The addiction is still there, screaming inside of him, but he is in control. It is nothing like what he'd felt when the two demons had come into the motel room and he'd become absolutely frenzied with thirst for their blood, with the thirst to possess the power the blood gave him.
He doesn't call out for Dean or Castiel. Just lies there on the too short bed, waiting for them.
Taking a deep breath, he tries his best to clear his mind of his hallucinations. Mostly he'd seen Lucifer but Dean had been there as well. Looking at him with a look that somehow was Dean's every look of betrayal combined. He hadn't said much, just looked at him and it felt like a sharp knife in Sam's gut.
Then there had been Castiel. He had appeared with benediction in his eyes, not saying a word, laying a finger on his lips as Sam tried to speak.
"You are forgiven."
With Castiel's light touch to his cheek, Sam felt the absolution he craved.
Still, that was a delusion and nothing more. He'd never be absolved. He never had Heaven's favor to begin with.
Looking up at the fan in the ceiling, at the pentagram, he allows himself to be wistful for just few moments, wishing that fate had bypassed his family. That Heaven would simply have left Mary Campbell and John Winchester the fuck alone.
He'd gladly pay with his own existence to not be a part of this cosmic fuck-up.
+++
"Sam, Sam, wake up."
He must have fallen asleep. Dean is shaking him awake and Castiel is hovering by Dean's shoulder.
"You okay?" Dean looks over him and Sam sees the concern in his brother's eyes.
"As good as I can be," he says dryly, gripping Dean's extended arm to rise from the bed. Dean pats him on the back when he is on his feet and then turns away out of the panic room. Castiel lingers, looking at Sam with his intense gaze.
"Dean prayed to Heaven," he says and Sam understands what he means.
"He didn't say yes, did he?" He is sure it was Dean himself and not some archangel sporting his mug.
Castiel shakes his head.
"He asked Heaven for help," Castiel looks up at him. "He asked for help for you."
"And… Cas, did they answer? Is Dean going to say yes?"
"They didn't come. But Dean was ready to say yes if he could guarantee help for you and that at the end of this all, you wouldn't suffer Hell."
Sam snorts. Heaven could hardly have agreed to that. He is going to Hell, one way or another.
+++
They stay at Bobby's for a while. It's hard for Sam not to pretend that he doesn't feel like a restless animal in a cage and he's probably shooting Dean as many concerned glances as his brother is sending him.
He could yell Why? at the universe until he's blue in the face but the thing that is making him raw and restless is how every attempt he and Dean have made to rebuild the trust between them, has been shot down like fate keeps having a target practice with it.
That's why he feels trapped, being there at Bobby's. Because they don't have a job to take their minds of how he got his blood addiction back and how Dean apparently is smooching up to heaven and how freaking fractured everything between them is. He looks at his brother and sees someone he loves, someone he would give up his life for in second and the cracks feel even bigger.
Dean is sitting at the kitchen table with what looks their and Bobby's entire arsenals, cleaning out a shotgun that looks like no one has used it for a very long time. Sitting in front of his laptop, Sam keeps looking at him instead of concentrating on his research. He doesn't really know what he's expecting, that the next time he looks up, Michael will be there, flaming sword and all, ready for some smiting.
Since Dean has always been so insistent that he'll never say yes, Sam has never given it a thought what he'd do if it ever came to that. He can't see himself saying yes. Instead he envisions scarifying himself so Lucifer can never get his destined vessel. Surely Michael should be able to kill him in such a way that he could never be put back together.
At least that would get this fucking Apocalypse over quickly.
He pushes the books he's been reading away and gets up, craving fresh air. Since the lockdown he has hardly been outside.
Bobby's salvage yard perhaps isn't the ideal place to breathe in the fresh air, but Sam feels good not being confined within closed walls.
Wandering aimlessly amongst the wreckage, he tries to clear his mind of the jumbled up emotions inside of him. They all stand a better change if he's focused.
With deep breaths, he does his best to push off that cover of blanketing anger that dampens every feeling and thought he has. There's confusion and hurt and that general hugeness of his feelings towards his older brother. They are like a mountain that no one will be able to grind down. His determination to do the right thing looms there, tainted by bitter remorse. Taking another deep breath, he thinks about the other people in his life. It aches that he and Dean are truly down to a couple of people they can trust.
Bobby and Cas.
Bobby is like a father to them. Well, no one can ever fill the black hole John Winchester left but Bobby is there to call them idjits when they deserve it. And Sam worries about Bobby like he's one of the family, all initiated into their dysfunction.
Then there is Castiel. Sam remembers how excited he was to meet him and how Castiel put him in his place. Not that Sam had any delusions about being in Heaven's particular favor but it had smarted a bit to get not get approved by Heaven on what he had thought was the right thing to do. Back then he had been the tiniest bit vary of Castiel.
Now, Cas is their comrade; a brother in arms.
Still it goes deeper than mere bloodletting and sacrificing oneself for a fellow soldier. Dean and Castiel have this partnership bond and Sam knows that Castiel's sometimes stoic nature soothes Dean. He and Cas though? At some point after Dean called him back, Castiel had become his friend; not exactly family like Dean and Bobby, because family you sometimes tolerate because you love them, but someone he trusts and likes. Someone who has crawled under his skin and he trusts completely.
Leaning against a rusty van with no tires and a broken windshield, he looks into the waning daylight and fancies himself looking at a metaphor. How the sun is setting on the universe.
He never claimed he was a poet but it makes him melancholic to know that the world probably is ending.
Castiel is standing next to him. Of course he didn't hear him coming but he definitely feels the hand that is laid on his shoulder.
"Sam."
The simple address is so laden that Sam's knees almost give away. He looks at Castiel without answering him, almost challenging him; to what he isn't sure.
"It's not within my authority to forgive you, Sam. If Dean has forgiven you, then it's all up to you."
He wants to spit out a fuck you to Castiel for being no help at all but the angel is absolutely right and he doesn't want to delve into that particular mire yet.
"So, Cas, if we all survive and the world doesn't end. What will you do? Go back to Heaven?"
"Not welcome there anymore. Though if I find our Father..." Castiel trails off and Sam has never heard him do that before. It's probably terrifying for a creature who has dealt with absolutes all its existence to experience doubt. Maybe he's doomed to be here on Earth forever. Maybe angels can live in human bodies forever, never change and never age.
"What about Jimmy, Cas? He's still there inside of you; I mean his spirit hasn't left the vessel?"
Castiel looks at him, eyes unwavering. "Jimmy is still there. I can't wear an empty vessel."
"Oh, so it's different for angels."
"We need the spirit to be present to be able to anchor ourselves to the vessel. That's how vessels work."
A sickening thought creeps into Sam's mind.
"Demons don't need the spirit though. Ruby had a spiritless body."
"No." Castiel's answer is simple and to the point. "Her body might have more dead than alive but the spirit was still there."
"No, I mean, all she did was lying and tricking me but that's how she gained my trust to begin with. Her meat suit was empty, it has to be." Sam's chest tightens. What if Ruby had lied about this as well? She had proved herself to be the greatest con-artist Sam had ever encountered and to think she used a body with the spirit of some poor girl to do all she did with him; the sex, the blood drinking. He remembers very well how it felt to be possessed and while it had been Meg who had possessed him and she definitely was a tad more sadistic than Ruby, the girl inside Ruby had to have been awake for some time and then she had been killed because the demon wearing her, had it coming.
"Sam, are you okay?"
"I..." He looks at Castiel's passive face and ducks behind the van. Bending over, he dry heaves; the guilt lodged in his throat.
He rises up, almost shaking and Castiel is standing over him.
"Don't blame yourself," he says.
Sam runs his hand over his face, trying to wipe away sweat. Of course he blames himself. He remembers the spirit of the girl Meg being so angry for them not noticing her and allowing the hell bitch to ride her. How was this any different? This was even worse. That girl, who Ruby wore, hadn't had an autonomy over her body. He had raped her. He had defiled her body in ways he didn't even want to think about now. For some reason he feels worse about this than killing and drinking the blood of those demons Famine had sent or any of the other demons because the people inside had at least received a merciful death right away. Ruby's host hadn't.
"Sam, you should forgive yourself for all of this. You are not evil."
What Castiel is trying to tell him is slowly penetrating the thick skin of self-accusation he's wearing. His intensions were honorable. All he had tried to do was to do the right thing, though he had gotten hopelessly lost along the way. Knowing that Castiel believes this as well smoothes out the gnawing ache in his heart.
"I... Cas, why are you saying all this to me?" The words feel cumbersome in his mouth, like he's not supposed ask this.
Castiel's gaze doesn't waver one second.
"Because it's true, Sam."
For some reason, Sam's mouth dries out and his hands feel tingly. He slumps against the van. It's like he's bursting at the seams, all the conflicting feelings clamoring to gush forward. Where that would lead, he doesn't know. All he knows, he can't allow himself that. He needs to keep it together for now. His hands hit the cold steel behind him, the pain on his knuckles a relief.
"Sam." Castiel is still there and he steps towards him and cups his cheek, just like the Castiel in his hallucination had done. This touch is different. There's nothing calming about it, it's hot like Castiel is burning up and instinctively Sam grabs the hand. As his fingers lock around the angel's wrist, he realizes it's not to push him away. He pulls Castiel closer, so close that he collides with Sam's chest.
Sam's challenge is mirrored in Castiel's eyes and then he reaches up with his loose hand and clutches the front of Sam's jacket.
Then Castiel kisses Sam, his chapped lips tightly puckered like he's a little kid kissing his grandmother. But the way he's pushing Sam against the van tells Sam that this isn't in the familiar way.
He wants to kiss back, open up the kiss and taste Castiel's mouth but he must pull away, the knowledge that Ruby's meat suit wasn't empty still raw in his mind.
"Cas, I… Jimmy, what about Jimmy?"
Castiel pulls away, still grabbing his jacket.
"That's why we ask permission. That's what saying yes means."
The realization hits him. Of course the yes extends to everything - the angels don't hesitate to kill, wearing their vessels - saying yes is to surrender one's body completely. He nods as he curls his arm around Castiel, stoops down and claims the angel's lips, finding them pliable.
There's no need to question what's happening. As he deepens the kiss, opening Castiel's mouth under his, it feels like he's finally rambled down the right track; right on its own, not because he's willing it to be right.
Castiel surges up into the kiss, an awkward mix of inexperience and want. It's too much, too soon.
Sam is used to taking the reins, yet it feels strange to try to stem the carnal hunger of this powerful being. He wants this as well but not up against a rusty van in Bobby's junk yard. Both of them deserve better.
As he pulls away from the kiss, he can hear his brother's words in his mind: What's with you and banging monsters?
Castiel's blue eyes are fixed on him, the pupils blown, his breathing audibly fast. Cas is no monster, not in Dean's book at least but he's not human.
"I need to talk to Dean," Sam says and Castiel nods as he takes a moment to stroke Sam's jaw.
+++
Dean is watching TV when they come back inside, changing the channel every ten seconds but always going back to Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?, muttering the answers and glaring at the contestants like the bumbling attempts to answer deeply offend him. He doesn't look up when Sam ambles to the couch and sits down next to him. Castiel looms at the door, looking from Sam to Dean and in the direction of the kitchen where Bobby can clearly be heard pottering around, making dinner.
"Dean," Sam says, taking the remote control from his brother's hand and turns off the TV. That gets Dean's attention.
"Sam," he says, and the tone is flat, like Dean had worked at sucking all emotion out of the name.
"I know you called for Heaven… Dean, look at me." Sam pulls at his brother when Dean tries to get off the couch. "I'm… you didn't say yes, I know. I wanted to thank you, Dean."
Dean looks downright incredulous.
"What the hell, Sammy? I go and do a monumentally stupid thing. Basically putting a neon sign on where we are so Michael and probably Lucifer as well can swoop down and take us over and you freaking thank me."
"Because you didn't give up on me, Dean. You could have decided you had enough."
Slapping Sam's shoulder, Dean chuckles and raises his eyebrow like he doubts that even Sam would think such a foolish thing. That Dean would ever give up on him.
"What's got Cas?" he then asks, titling his head towards the angel who is watching them and two-stepping like he's a small child who wants to ask for a puppy really badly.
"Yeah, Dean. That." Sam bites his lips and runs his hand through his hair. Dean lifts his eyebrows up to his hairline.
"Did you two break into Bobby's liquor cabinet or something?"
"No, we…"
"Sam, you are like a high-school girl bringing her first boyfriend home to meet her parents."
Castiel's face is turning oddly red and he is making tiny choking noises. Sam struggles to keep face and Dean looks between them.
"Guys…"
"Dean, I don't want to keep anything from you, not after everything and you should know about this…" It's hard to find the words when he doesn't know himself what is exactly going with him and Cas.
"Spit it out, Sam. I'm not going to lock you in the panic room… well, probably not."
"I've sorta fallen for Cas."
Dean emulated a guppy for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, doubling over. Sam glanced at Castiel who seemed to be experiencing a mix of relief and nausea.
"I just have to say it, Sam. You're such a girl."
"Don't be a jerk, Dean."
"Sam, seriously, you can't expect me to leave this one alone." Dean grins from ear to ear and Sam can't help but smile himself as he pushes himself off the couch. His brother is okay with this. He'll probably never say it out loud.
"No, I suppose not." He wants to say thanks but Dean has enough ammunition as it is.
Cas is still fidgeting by the door when Sam comes over and takes his hand. The angel's grip is tight, his hand damp with sweat and Sam can't help but gathering Castiel into his arms.
Dean almost manages to ruin the moment but not quite though.
"Sam and Cas sitting in a tree… K… I… S… S… I… N… G…"
If Cas wasn't burrowing into his chest right now, Sam would flip his brother the bird.
-fin