[Slash] Help of Angels - And So It Is - 09
Title: Help of Angels
Author anyothergirl415
Character(s)/Pairing: Pre-Sam/Dean, Castiel
Theme: Theme 06 - 365. And So It Is
Prompt(s): 09 - Days
Words: ~960
Rating: PG-13 ish
Disclaimer: I wish I controlled what happened but well, let’s be honest, who could really top Kripke?
Summary: Castiel arrives with minor information in tow.
Warnings/Author Notes: The stories are all linked together in the same verse, I would recommend reading from the first prompt chronologically.
“When I was a little boy, I used to dream about your hand holding mine,” Sam whispered into the darkness and curled into a ball. The mass was too great to make small but he tried. It should have soothed him. It made his heart hurt instead.
Dean wasn’t admitting to being too scared to get any closer to Sam. It was just the whisper of lips across his own, all the time when he closed his eyes and really he’d been missing enough sleep recently that maybe he was just as crazy as his brother. “Sammy, you need to sleep.”
“Always sleeping. Always feeling like this.” Sam pulled the blanket over his head, forming just a lump curled on the mattress, like he was four and not twenty seven. “Can feel it. My heart. It beats and churns and breaks for you.”
“Sam,” Dean’s word might be a warning, a hiss of disapproval, certainly nothing close to a request to hear more. “Look, we’ll figure out something. Okay? This will be all over soon and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Castiel’s voice amidst the insanity was an oddly welcome relief for Dean, even with the bad news carrying statement. Even if he wasn’t always sure he could tolerate the angel’s presence, this was a situation in which he could be of help, hopefully. “Cas. Thank god. Fucking heal him, please? I’m already worried what damage has been done to his brain.”
“When did this happen?” Castiel knelt beside the bed and Dean shifted uncertainly, reaching out as if to pull the angel away from his brother’s space.
Clearly the urge for over protection ran deep. “Few days ago. Why didn’t you come then?”
“I was in Uganda. There is an ancient tribe of people who have divine rights amongst-“
“Castiel.” This was said clearly as a warning but Dean arched his brows just to drive the point home. “Unless it involves making Sam better, I really don’t care.”
The angel gave him his closest look to withering - which was pretty parallel with his look of annoyance and the one he got when someone said something funny - before turning back to the Sam shaped lump under the blankets. “Sam? May I please touch your head?”
The blanket shifted down to reveal glassy green eyes. Dean had never seen them that color. It made something sickening twist in his gut. “Sammy, Cas just wants to help you out okay? He might make you all better.”
Sam’s eyes glazed for a moment as he stared at Castiel. “Purple. Purple fuzzy. You sparkle and glow and I can see right through you.”
A surprised snort of laughter left Dean’s lips. “Well, guess it’s better than pink then. Must be an angel thing.”
“I am not the first angel Sam has encountered like this?” Castiel asked quietly, bypassing his apparently sparkly quality all together.
“No. There was uh, another one. He’s apparently pink and fuzzy and he convinced Sam to jump out of a moving car so,” Dean shrugged helplessly, contemplating demanding Castiel to hurry it up already and scooping Sam up to his body to keep him close.
There was a definite tense line to Castiel’s shoulders and Sam squeaked, tugging the blanket back over his head. “Don’t anger. Don’t anger. I try and try and never make it. Always bad. Always worse. Please help. Please help.”
“Hey Sammy, it’s okay.” Dean nudged Castiel out of the way and dropped onto the bed, ignoring warning sirens in his head from their earlier lip brushed and rubbing his brother’s back softly.
“Who was the other angel?” Castiel asked in a tense whisper, pacing halfway across the room and back. “Dean, I need to know the name of the other angel.”
“It was Samael.” Dean looked up toward the angel, lifting his shoulders in a defeated shrug. “What difference does it matter? Sam’s insane, something is fucking with his brain and- why do you look like I just shot your dog?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“It’s a- forget it. Castiel, what is going on? Who is this Samael and what does he want with Sam?” Dean’s hand curled into a fist over Sam’s arm, instinctively reassuring himself by his presence.
“Samael, he is a fallen angel. Both good and bad. Accuser, seducer and destroyer. He will work as he pleases, with who he likes. And it appears he must have somehow attached himself to your brother.”
Dean frowned, hand stroking through Sam’s hair when his brother twisted under the blanket, reappeared and settled into his lap. “No. This, it can’t be. I saw a witch; she just put some sort of spell on Sam. You can make it better. You can fix it so just do it.”
“I’m afraid it is not so easy Dean. I need to go find out more information. I will return when I can.”
Dean should have been used to this, the gentle flutter of wings, the sudden disappearance of the angel. It was no less annoying, used to it or not.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, drawing his brother’s gaze down.
It wasn’t until that moment that he’d realized that Sam had somehow worked his way completely into Dean’s lap, impossibly long legs draped over his thighs, arms around his neck, lips against his skin. “Sammy. Let’s lay back down. Get some rest.”
“Not so tired. Not anymore. Dean.” Sam murmured, nose against Dean’s jaw, constantly moving over smooth skin. “Like how you smell. How you feel. Dean. Love.”
The sharp pinch in Dean’s chest was explainable, he was certain, but at the moment he couldn’t name it. Couldn’t place it. “Sam,” he whispered, the only word he currently knew.
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