CHRISTMAS PRESENTTTT
So this is my present for the amazing minviendha, who already wrote me an absolutely fantastic story that everyone should go read, right now, here. She asked for Sam, Cas, and existential angsting together; I'm not sure how existential it is, but there's some angst. Merry Christmas, minviendha! I hope you like your present =)
Title: Going With The Flow
Summary: Sam gets hit with the final curse of a dying wish, and basically loses his brain-to-mouth filter. He calls Castiel for help.
A/N: So apparently angst is not one of those things that comes naturally to me, because the angsty part of this fic fought me every step of the way. But I got it done, and I'm even pretty pleased with the result.
Sam figures out something is wrong about 5 minutes after they kill the witch. Dean is lighting the match to burn the salted body and Sam thinks “I wonder what it feels like to burn.” Then Dean is staring at him in confusion and asking “Why would you think about that?” and when Sam tries to say “It’s nothing, forget it,” what actually comes out is “Mom, Dad, Jess, you; there’s so much that’s burned because of me, and I don’t even know what it feels like.”
Sam slaps a hand over his mouth to stop the words, staring with wide eyes at his brother; none of that was supposed to come out. Stuff like that just gets shoved down and ignored until he’s alone. Stuff like that does not get said to anyone, but stuff like that is especially never said to Dean. Dean, who looks like he wants to argue with Sam, then looks down at the body he just lit on fire and says “Oh, fuck.”
Sam would echo his brother if he wasn’t afraid of what else would come out of his mouth.
~*~*~*~
Castiel is in Japan when his phone rings. He doesn’t even look at the caller ID - the only people who would be calling him are the Winchesters, and he feels a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach that he identifies as worry. It was not that long ago that Castiel left their company after the trip to the past, and this is the first time the brothers have called him. Sam texted him a few times to check on him, but Castiel did not know how to reply to him; he received it while flying and the touch screen did not respond to his true form. He will have to ask Sam to demonstrate the next time he sees him. He puts the phone to his ear, then takes it back down and presses the SEND button before replacing it and saying “Hello.”
“Castiel,” Sam says, sounding somewhat panicked, “Can you please come get me and take me somewhere where there aren’t any other people?” Castiel frowns slightly; he can hear Dean yelling in the background, but Sam is still talking. “There was a witch, and now I say everything I’m thinking, and I don’t want to do this around people, Cas, there are some things that I don’t want anybody to hear “ - Dean’s yelling seems to get louder, but Sam’s voice rises up to cover it - “we’re at the Kings Valu Inn in Enumclaw, Washington.”
Castiel takes flight as soon as Sam finishes speaking and is standing in the parking lot of the Inn a second later. Sam and Dean are both there as well, obviously in the middle of an argument. Both heads whip around to stare at him, and Sam runs up to him and says “Please we have to go don’t listen to Dean you have to help me Cas there’s so much that I don’t want anyone to hear take me somewhere there aren’t people please.” Dean is also running towards them, but Castiel understands that there are some things Sam needs to keep to himself. He looks at Dean and says “I’ll take care of him,” then touches two fingers to Sam’s forehead and transports them to Yellowstone.
Sam seems to be gasping for air, and Castiel worries for a moment that he is about to hyperventilate. Then Sam turns to him with a blinding smile and says “Thanks, Cas,” before flopping to the ground. Castiel can think of no better term to describe the way Sam sits, limbs splayed out carelessly as he lands on his back and stares at the sky.
“What has happened?” Castiel can’t find any obvious signs of illness, and Sam is far calmer than he sounded on the phone; Sam’s explanation before was so rushed that Castiel didn’t quite understand all of it.
“Ugh, I don’t even know,” Sam says. “I thought we had gotten away clean for the first time ever going up against a witch, but no, of course not, when has anything good ever happened to us? Apparently there was a little going-away gift she left us, and I didn’t notice until I was rambling my idle thoughts to Dean, and the thoughts were definitely things I did not want my brother to know. Or anyone to know, really, its stupid morbid self-pity that doesn’t make a difference to anything. So now I can’t be around people because if I’m around people they’ll just ask questions and I’ll say everything even if it’s not what I want to say because usually I say what people want to hear, even if I’m thinking something different, and now I’ll just say what I think. Like right now I want to stop talking but I’m still thinking so I’m still talking I’m pretty sure, it’s getting hard to keep track of ‘in head’ and ‘out of head’ stuff at the moment.”
Sam is starting to look slightly panicked, and Castiel is beginning to suspect he can’t stop talking, so he cuts in with another question. “This curse it what has you talking so much?” Sam nods enthusiastically, a hand clapped over his mouth to stop the flow of words. “All right. I must go calm Dean; he is probably…blowing a basket. I will be back soon.” Sam nods again, but it looks like he’s trying not to laugh; Castiel wonders what he got wrong. He thought he had heard both the brothers use that particular phrase before. He decides to ask Dean as he returns to the parking lot of the motel the brothers were in.
Unsurprisingly, he appears while Dean is in the middle of spitting curses that even Castiel, with all his angelic knowledge, did not know existed into his cell phone. Dean promptly spins to face Castiel, pins him with a murderous glare, and yells “WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO? WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BROTHER? WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?”
Castiel holds up a hand and says “Sam is fine. He is in Yellowstone. It seems that the witch somehow cursed him into saying everything he thinks, and he doesn’t want to be where people will ask questions, so he is not forced to answer them overly completely.” Castiel thinks this is a very reasonable request, and that Dean should understand his brother’s wishes.
Instead, Dean throws his cell phone in Castiel’s face.
“And you couldn’t warn me before you take off like that and basically kidnap my little brother?” Dean seems to be calming slightly; the murderous glare has been slowly decreasing to simply a glare. “How long is this going to last?”
Castiel tilts his head, thinking. “I am not positive, but if it was a curse cast as the caster was dying it would be weaker than usual. I would imagine it will not last longer than 2 more days.”
Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his mouth. “2 days. Awesome.” He starts pacing, back and forth in across the pavement. “You need to bring him supplies then. Food, for sure, and probably Ruby’s knife - if he’s in the middle of nowhere there won’t be any reception, either, will there. Dammit.”
“I can watch over him,” Castiel says. Sam is his friend, and he doesn’t want him to be injured because he is on his own in the wilderness. He is aware Sam can take care of himself, but ever since learning Anna had killed the young man in the past Castiel has felt strangely protective of him. And he has never felt the need to fill silence with conversation, so Sam will not be forced to talk.
Dean is nodding, walking back towards the rooms. Castiel notices a door that is slightly ajar, as if the occupants were in a hurry to leave and did not close it. He follows, assuming that this is the Winchesters, as Dean says “I’ll load up a backpack for you to take back with you. But you come tell me he’s ok every now and then, got it? I’m going to go insane if you’re both out of touch for the whole time.”
If Castiel looks closely, sometimes he can see the shadow of Sam with a pipe through his abdomen in Dean’s eyes. He doesn’t look closely most of the time.
Castiel arrives at Sam’s side 15 minutes later, holding a backpack with food, clothing, and weapons in one hand and a sleeping bag in the other. Sam has not moved from where Castiel left him. The only difference is that he is staring at the sky with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t even move when Castiel arrives, just says “Hey, Cas,” in a sleepy voice.
Castiel suspects that Sam will be asleep soon, so he lays out the sleeping bag, saying “Dean sent supplies for you. The curse should wear off in a few days.”
Sam rolls over with a soft groan and crawls into the sleeping bag, snuggling into its warmth almost immediately. “Sounds good to me. Could use a break. Stupid stomach still aches sometimes. Night, Cas.”
Castiel refrains from pointing out that it is barely 7 in the evening, frowning slightly at Sam’s mention of his stomach. Instead he softly replies “Sleep well, Sam,” and settles in to wait.
~*~*~*~
It’s almost noon when Sam awakens. Castiel soothed the nightmares that afflicted him every few hours, and if he sent Sam into a deeper, more peaceful rest each time, that is nobody’s business but his own. He imagines Dean would be proud of his actions, however sneaky they may have been. He also took the liberty of making sure Sam’s stomach was healed completely, and healed the internal bruising that Michael had left.
Sam stares at the sky and blinks sleepily for several minutes, and Castiel thinks that the curse has already broken. Then Sam snorts and murmurs “That cloud looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings,” and proves Castiel’s hopes wrong. Sam wiggles out of the sleeping bag in a maneuver that reminds Castiel very much of a worm, saying “Morning, Cas. Have you ever read the Lord of The Rings trilogy? Or the Hobbit? Or the Silmarillion? Dean’s a huge fan of that book, but don’t tell him I told you; he still thinks he can hide his geekiness from me, it’s kind of hilarious.”
Castiel says “Good morning, Sam. I have not read any of those books, but I have heard of this Gollum before. I would be very interested in reading the works of Tolkien if there is ever time.”
Sam beams and says “I can loan you my copy of the trilogy if you want, I keep it in the trunk even though Dean keeps threatening to throw it out because it takes up too much room. He won’t though, because he thinks I’ll be upset if he does, but it’s not like they’re first editions that have been signed by the author or anything. I can always get another copy.”
They continue to converse in this manner over breakfast (Sam calls it brunch, and laughs at Castiel’s confused expression before explaining) and through dinner, talking about nothing of real consequence. Their topics range from art to literature to classical music to physics, and Castiel finds Sam’s quick mind and sharp logic to be quite amusing when let out in long rambling streams of consciousness; they talk past the fall of darkness, although Sam goes on a bit of a diatribe about the beauty of the sunset. Castiel barely remembers to check in with Dean; when he finally makes it back to the room, he is cursed out loudly and thoroughly.
Eventually Sam stops talking, laying on top of the sleeping bag and staring at the stars. Castiel is lying next to him, trenchcoat balled up under his head and sport coat off to the side. Sam badgered him into taking his tie off as well (his argument mostly revolved around “it’s not like you wear it correctly anyways”, which Castiel doesn’t think is a very good argument, but then Sam gave him a look, all big pleading eyes and small pout that should look foolish on a grown man but somehow didn’t, and Castiel realized what Dean meant every time he grumbled about his brother’s “stupid freaking puppy dog eyes, should be illegal, could rule the world with that stupid look”).
The silence lasts long enough that Castiel thinks Sam has fallen asleep, but just as he is about to get up Sam says “Castiel, why wouldn’t you let Anna just kill me? I mean, it would be better for everyone if I died. Or didn’t exist. Sometimes I wish Dean hadn’t made that deal. I don’t know where I went when I died but even if I went to Hell at least I wouldn’t be around to break the final seal, or be Lucifer’s vessel.”
Castiel takes the opportunity when Sam pauses for breath. “I would not let Anna harm you because you are my friend, Sam. I don’t want your death, and I certainly would not do nothing if someone else were to threaten you.”
Sam snorts. “I’m flattered that you consider me your friend, Cas. But you still should have just let her kill me. I started the Apocalypse, I’m Lucifer’s vessel; I’m not worth fighting your brothers and sisters over.”
Castiel sits up and gives Sam an annoyed look. “Isn’t that for me to decide, Sam? You are a good man; I refuse to let you die because of something that you were pushed into doing by forces outside your control, including me. If I had left you while you detoxed you would not have gone to Ruby, and none of this would even be an issue.”
“Thought so,” Sam says, nodding to himself. “Figured it had to be some angel, and since you busted Dean out to stop me and didn’t kill me like 10 second after you saved us from Zachariah I figured there was some guilt in there somewhere. And you weren’t the one who made me believe Ruby, or walk out that door, so not your fault.”
Castiel has nothing to say to that; he doesn’t know how he can convince Sam that almost none of the events leading up to the freeing of Lucifer were really in his control. He has a feeling that the knowledge would hurt Sam more than help, anyways.
“It’s almost funny, you know,” Sam continued when Castiel stayed silent. “I tried so hard, so so hard, not to be what everyone thought I was going to be. And in trying to do the right thing, I did the exact opposite. Guess that’s the cosmic joke of my life though; everything I do turns to crap. Don’t kill someone, get a knife in the back and a brother ripped apart by hellhounds. Try to get revenge for my brother and maybe save the world while I’m at it, end the world instead. Try to help out some hunters, they try and force-feed me demon blood.”
“What?” Castiel feels a pulse of anger towards these anonymous hunters. “When? Who were they?”
“Tim and Reggie (Castiel files the names away to ask Bobby about later), when me and Dean were split up, right before Lucifer talked to me the first time. Gave them some info about a demon nest in a town near where I was working, passed it on, their friend got killed, the demon talked. All of it was a total shit-fest, and I was just trying to help. Kind of hoped they were going to kill me when they came to the bar, but no, it was all ‘Time for a little go-juice Sammy-boy’ and showing vials of blood down my throat. And then I let them go, ungrateful fuckers. Wasn’t like they were wrong, anyways, I started it so I should end it, I just wish I knew how.”
Sam gives Cas another pleading look. “Cas, you’ll look out for Dean if I don’t make it, right? I mean, I don’t want to not make it but how likely a scenario is that? I’m Lucifer’s true vessel, it doesn’t seem all that likely that I’ll survive Lucifer’s defeat. So you have to promise to look out for Dean just in case. Please, Cas, you have to promise, he can’t do something stupid like he did last time something happened to me. Promise me!”
“I promise to watch out for Dean if something happens to you,” Castiel said solemnly. “But I will also do my best not to let anything happen to you. You do not deserve to go down with my brother, and I will do everything in my power to prevent it from happening.”
“Thank you, Castiel,” Sam says with a sad smile. He blinks, but his eyes only reopen halfway. “Thanks for helping me with the whole word-vomit curse thing too. Should go report to Dean again before he goes to sleep.” The young man lazily gets into his sleeping bag. “And y’know how yesterday you said Dean was going to blow a basket? The expression is actually blow a gasket. Just so you know.” With that, Sam is asleep.
Castiel looks down at his sleeping friend for a moment, then lays his trench coat over him and flies off to reassure the other Winchester.
~*~*~*~
The curse breaks during lunch the next day. Sam breaks off in the middle of a passionate speech about the problems with Dean’s diet, suddenly falling silent. It takes him a while to notice the silence, and when he does he grins widely and jumps to his feet, yelling “MY BRAIN-TO-MOUTH FILTER IS BACK!!!”
(Castiel will never admit that he wanted the speech to end, but it was highly entertaining. He didn’t know it was possible to talk for more than a few minutes about how much some people over-rate pie as opposed to other desserts, and he was tempted to record a video of it. Sam had showed him all sorts of things to do with his phone.)
5 minutes later their makeshift Yellowstone campsite is packed and they are arriving in Dean’s motel room. Not long after, the Winchesters drive off to their next case and Castiel begins searching for God once more. Not long after the brothers leave, he receives a text message from Sam.
Thanks for rescuing me, sorry you were subjected to my unfiltered brain.
YOU ARE WELCOME. it was no trouble. IT WAS QUITE AMUSING TO LISTEN TO YOUR THOUGHTS ON DEAN’S MUSIC.
…Cas, you don’t need to press SHIFT when you start a new message, remember? Or a new sentence.
My mistake. Safe travels, sam.
You too, Cas.
Title: Going With The Flow
Summary: Sam gets hit with the final curse of a dying wish, and basically loses his brain-to-mouth filter. He calls Castiel for help.
A/N: So apparently angst is not one of those things that comes naturally to me, because the angsty part of this fic fought me every step of the way. But I got it done, and I'm even pretty pleased with the result.
Sam figures out something is wrong about 5 minutes after they kill the witch. Dean is lighting the match to burn the salted body and Sam thinks “I wonder what it feels like to burn.” Then Dean is staring at him in confusion and asking “Why would you think about that?” and when Sam tries to say “It’s nothing, forget it,” what actually comes out is “Mom, Dad, Jess, you; there’s so much that’s burned because of me, and I don’t even know what it feels like.”
Sam slaps a hand over his mouth to stop the words, staring with wide eyes at his brother; none of that was supposed to come out. Stuff like that just gets shoved down and ignored until he’s alone. Stuff like that does not get said to anyone, but stuff like that is especially never said to Dean. Dean, who looks like he wants to argue with Sam, then looks down at the body he just lit on fire and says “Oh, fuck.”
Sam would echo his brother if he wasn’t afraid of what else would come out of his mouth.
~*~*~*~
Castiel is in Japan when his phone rings. He doesn’t even look at the caller ID - the only people who would be calling him are the Winchesters, and he feels a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach that he identifies as worry. It was not that long ago that Castiel left their company after the trip to the past, and this is the first time the brothers have called him. Sam texted him a few times to check on him, but Castiel did not know how to reply to him; he received it while flying and the touch screen did not respond to his true form. He will have to ask Sam to demonstrate the next time he sees him. He puts the phone to his ear, then takes it back down and presses the SEND button before replacing it and saying “Hello.”
“Castiel,” Sam says, sounding somewhat panicked, “Can you please come get me and take me somewhere where there aren’t any other people?” Castiel frowns slightly; he can hear Dean yelling in the background, but Sam is still talking. “There was a witch, and now I say everything I’m thinking, and I don’t want to do this around people, Cas, there are some things that I don’t want anybody to hear “ - Dean’s yelling seems to get louder, but Sam’s voice rises up to cover it - “we’re at the Kings Valu Inn in Enumclaw, Washington.”
Castiel takes flight as soon as Sam finishes speaking and is standing in the parking lot of the Inn a second later. Sam and Dean are both there as well, obviously in the middle of an argument. Both heads whip around to stare at him, and Sam runs up to him and says “Please we have to go don’t listen to Dean you have to help me Cas there’s so much that I don’t want anyone to hear take me somewhere there aren’t people please.” Dean is also running towards them, but Castiel understands that there are some things Sam needs to keep to himself. He looks at Dean and says “I’ll take care of him,” then touches two fingers to Sam’s forehead and transports them to Yellowstone.
Sam seems to be gasping for air, and Castiel worries for a moment that he is about to hyperventilate. Then Sam turns to him with a blinding smile and says “Thanks, Cas,” before flopping to the ground. Castiel can think of no better term to describe the way Sam sits, limbs splayed out carelessly as he lands on his back and stares at the sky.
“What has happened?” Castiel can’t find any obvious signs of illness, and Sam is far calmer than he sounded on the phone; Sam’s explanation before was so rushed that Castiel didn’t quite understand all of it.
“Ugh, I don’t even know,” Sam says. “I thought we had gotten away clean for the first time ever going up against a witch, but no, of course not, when has anything good ever happened to us? Apparently there was a little going-away gift she left us, and I didn’t notice until I was rambling my idle thoughts to Dean, and the thoughts were definitely things I did not want my brother to know. Or anyone to know, really, its stupid morbid self-pity that doesn’t make a difference to anything. So now I can’t be around people because if I’m around people they’ll just ask questions and I’ll say everything even if it’s not what I want to say because usually I say what people want to hear, even if I’m thinking something different, and now I’ll just say what I think. Like right now I want to stop talking but I’m still thinking so I’m still talking I’m pretty sure, it’s getting hard to keep track of ‘in head’ and ‘out of head’ stuff at the moment.”
Sam is starting to look slightly panicked, and Castiel is beginning to suspect he can’t stop talking, so he cuts in with another question. “This curse it what has you talking so much?” Sam nods enthusiastically, a hand clapped over his mouth to stop the flow of words. “All right. I must go calm Dean; he is probably…blowing a basket. I will be back soon.” Sam nods again, but it looks like he’s trying not to laugh; Castiel wonders what he got wrong. He thought he had heard both the brothers use that particular phrase before. He decides to ask Dean as he returns to the parking lot of the motel the brothers were in.
Unsurprisingly, he appears while Dean is in the middle of spitting curses that even Castiel, with all his angelic knowledge, did not know existed into his cell phone. Dean promptly spins to face Castiel, pins him with a murderous glare, and yells “WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO? WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BROTHER? WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?”
Castiel holds up a hand and says “Sam is fine. He is in Yellowstone. It seems that the witch somehow cursed him into saying everything he thinks, and he doesn’t want to be where people will ask questions, so he is not forced to answer them overly completely.” Castiel thinks this is a very reasonable request, and that Dean should understand his brother’s wishes.
Instead, Dean throws his cell phone in Castiel’s face.
“And you couldn’t warn me before you take off like that and basically kidnap my little brother?” Dean seems to be calming slightly; the murderous glare has been slowly decreasing to simply a glare. “How long is this going to last?”
Castiel tilts his head, thinking. “I am not positive, but if it was a curse cast as the caster was dying it would be weaker than usual. I would imagine it will not last longer than 2 more days.”
Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his mouth. “2 days. Awesome.” He starts pacing, back and forth in across the pavement. “You need to bring him supplies then. Food, for sure, and probably Ruby’s knife - if he’s in the middle of nowhere there won’t be any reception, either, will there. Dammit.”
“I can watch over him,” Castiel says. Sam is his friend, and he doesn’t want him to be injured because he is on his own in the wilderness. He is aware Sam can take care of himself, but ever since learning Anna had killed the young man in the past Castiel has felt strangely protective of him. And he has never felt the need to fill silence with conversation, so Sam will not be forced to talk.
Dean is nodding, walking back towards the rooms. Castiel notices a door that is slightly ajar, as if the occupants were in a hurry to leave and did not close it. He follows, assuming that this is the Winchesters, as Dean says “I’ll load up a backpack for you to take back with you. But you come tell me he’s ok every now and then, got it? I’m going to go insane if you’re both out of touch for the whole time.”
If Castiel looks closely, sometimes he can see the shadow of Sam with a pipe through his abdomen in Dean’s eyes. He doesn’t look closely most of the time.
Castiel arrives at Sam’s side 15 minutes later, holding a backpack with food, clothing, and weapons in one hand and a sleeping bag in the other. Sam has not moved from where Castiel left him. The only difference is that he is staring at the sky with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t even move when Castiel arrives, just says “Hey, Cas,” in a sleepy voice.
Castiel suspects that Sam will be asleep soon, so he lays out the sleeping bag, saying “Dean sent supplies for you. The curse should wear off in a few days.”
Sam rolls over with a soft groan and crawls into the sleeping bag, snuggling into its warmth almost immediately. “Sounds good to me. Could use a break. Stupid stomach still aches sometimes. Night, Cas.”
Castiel refrains from pointing out that it is barely 7 in the evening, frowning slightly at Sam’s mention of his stomach. Instead he softly replies “Sleep well, Sam,” and settles in to wait.
~*~*~*~
It’s almost noon when Sam awakens. Castiel soothed the nightmares that afflicted him every few hours, and if he sent Sam into a deeper, more peaceful rest each time, that is nobody’s business but his own. He imagines Dean would be proud of his actions, however sneaky they may have been. He also took the liberty of making sure Sam’s stomach was healed completely, and healed the internal bruising that Michael had left.
Sam stares at the sky and blinks sleepily for several minutes, and Castiel thinks that the curse has already broken. Then Sam snorts and murmurs “That cloud looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings,” and proves Castiel’s hopes wrong. Sam wiggles out of the sleeping bag in a maneuver that reminds Castiel very much of a worm, saying “Morning, Cas. Have you ever read the Lord of The Rings trilogy? Or the Hobbit? Or the Silmarillion? Dean’s a huge fan of that book, but don’t tell him I told you; he still thinks he can hide his geekiness from me, it’s kind of hilarious.”
Castiel says “Good morning, Sam. I have not read any of those books, but I have heard of this Gollum before. I would be very interested in reading the works of Tolkien if there is ever time.”
Sam beams and says “I can loan you my copy of the trilogy if you want, I keep it in the trunk even though Dean keeps threatening to throw it out because it takes up too much room. He won’t though, because he thinks I’ll be upset if he does, but it’s not like they’re first editions that have been signed by the author or anything. I can always get another copy.”
They continue to converse in this manner over breakfast (Sam calls it brunch, and laughs at Castiel’s confused expression before explaining) and through dinner, talking about nothing of real consequence. Their topics range from art to literature to classical music to physics, and Castiel finds Sam’s quick mind and sharp logic to be quite amusing when let out in long rambling streams of consciousness; they talk past the fall of darkness, although Sam goes on a bit of a diatribe about the beauty of the sunset. Castiel barely remembers to check in with Dean; when he finally makes it back to the room, he is cursed out loudly and thoroughly.
Eventually Sam stops talking, laying on top of the sleeping bag and staring at the stars. Castiel is lying next to him, trenchcoat balled up under his head and sport coat off to the side. Sam badgered him into taking his tie off as well (his argument mostly revolved around “it’s not like you wear it correctly anyways”, which Castiel doesn’t think is a very good argument, but then Sam gave him a look, all big pleading eyes and small pout that should look foolish on a grown man but somehow didn’t, and Castiel realized what Dean meant every time he grumbled about his brother’s “stupid freaking puppy dog eyes, should be illegal, could rule the world with that stupid look”).
The silence lasts long enough that Castiel thinks Sam has fallen asleep, but just as he is about to get up Sam says “Castiel, why wouldn’t you let Anna just kill me? I mean, it would be better for everyone if I died. Or didn’t exist. Sometimes I wish Dean hadn’t made that deal. I don’t know where I went when I died but even if I went to Hell at least I wouldn’t be around to break the final seal, or be Lucifer’s vessel.”
Castiel takes the opportunity when Sam pauses for breath. “I would not let Anna harm you because you are my friend, Sam. I don’t want your death, and I certainly would not do nothing if someone else were to threaten you.”
Sam snorts. “I’m flattered that you consider me your friend, Cas. But you still should have just let her kill me. I started the Apocalypse, I’m Lucifer’s vessel; I’m not worth fighting your brothers and sisters over.”
Castiel sits up and gives Sam an annoyed look. “Isn’t that for me to decide, Sam? You are a good man; I refuse to let you die because of something that you were pushed into doing by forces outside your control, including me. If I had left you while you detoxed you would not have gone to Ruby, and none of this would even be an issue.”
“Thought so,” Sam says, nodding to himself. “Figured it had to be some angel, and since you busted Dean out to stop me and didn’t kill me like 10 second after you saved us from Zachariah I figured there was some guilt in there somewhere. And you weren’t the one who made me believe Ruby, or walk out that door, so not your fault.”
Castiel has nothing to say to that; he doesn’t know how he can convince Sam that almost none of the events leading up to the freeing of Lucifer were really in his control. He has a feeling that the knowledge would hurt Sam more than help, anyways.
“It’s almost funny, you know,” Sam continued when Castiel stayed silent. “I tried so hard, so so hard, not to be what everyone thought I was going to be. And in trying to do the right thing, I did the exact opposite. Guess that’s the cosmic joke of my life though; everything I do turns to crap. Don’t kill someone, get a knife in the back and a brother ripped apart by hellhounds. Try to get revenge for my brother and maybe save the world while I’m at it, end the world instead. Try to help out some hunters, they try and force-feed me demon blood.”
“What?” Castiel feels a pulse of anger towards these anonymous hunters. “When? Who were they?”
“Tim and Reggie (Castiel files the names away to ask Bobby about later), when me and Dean were split up, right before Lucifer talked to me the first time. Gave them some info about a demon nest in a town near where I was working, passed it on, their friend got killed, the demon talked. All of it was a total shit-fest, and I was just trying to help. Kind of hoped they were going to kill me when they came to the bar, but no, it was all ‘Time for a little go-juice Sammy-boy’ and showing vials of blood down my throat. And then I let them go, ungrateful fuckers. Wasn’t like they were wrong, anyways, I started it so I should end it, I just wish I knew how.”
Sam gives Cas another pleading look. “Cas, you’ll look out for Dean if I don’t make it, right? I mean, I don’t want to not make it but how likely a scenario is that? I’m Lucifer’s true vessel, it doesn’t seem all that likely that I’ll survive Lucifer’s defeat. So you have to promise to look out for Dean just in case. Please, Cas, you have to promise, he can’t do something stupid like he did last time something happened to me. Promise me!”
“I promise to watch out for Dean if something happens to you,” Castiel said solemnly. “But I will also do my best not to let anything happen to you. You do not deserve to go down with my brother, and I will do everything in my power to prevent it from happening.”
“Thank you, Castiel,” Sam says with a sad smile. He blinks, but his eyes only reopen halfway. “Thanks for helping me with the whole word-vomit curse thing too. Should go report to Dean again before he goes to sleep.” The young man lazily gets into his sleeping bag. “And y’know how yesterday you said Dean was going to blow a basket? The expression is actually blow a gasket. Just so you know.” With that, Sam is asleep.
Castiel looks down at his sleeping friend for a moment, then lays his trench coat over him and flies off to reassure the other Winchester.
~*~*~*~
The curse breaks during lunch the next day. Sam breaks off in the middle of a passionate speech about the problems with Dean’s diet, suddenly falling silent. It takes him a while to notice the silence, and when he does he grins widely and jumps to his feet, yelling “MY BRAIN-TO-MOUTH FILTER IS BACK!!!”
(Castiel will never admit that he wanted the speech to end, but it was highly entertaining. He didn’t know it was possible to talk for more than a few minutes about how much some people over-rate pie as opposed to other desserts, and he was tempted to record a video of it. Sam had showed him all sorts of things to do with his phone.)
5 minutes later their makeshift Yellowstone campsite is packed and they are arriving in Dean’s motel room. Not long after, the Winchesters drive off to their next case and Castiel begins searching for God once more. Not long after the brothers leave, he receives a text message from Sam.
Thanks for rescuing me, sorry you were subjected to my unfiltered brain.
YOU ARE WELCOME. it was no trouble. IT WAS QUITE AMUSING TO LISTEN TO YOUR THOUGHTS ON DEAN’S MUSIC.
…Cas, you don’t need to press SHIFT when you start a new message, remember? Or a new sentence.
My mistake. Safe travels, sam.
You too, Cas.