It's our 6-month anniversary!
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Can you believe that it's been six months already? 282 members, 347 people watching! And it's all thanks to YOU! You fabulous people, you!
You know what that means, right?
Comment-fic!
Hurting Sam is a necessary part of celebrating our six-month anniversary. So have at it!
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Can you believe that it's been six months already? 282 members, 347 people watching! And it's all thanks to YOU! You fabulous people, you!
You know what that means, right?
Comment-fic!
Hurting Sam is a necessary part of celebrating our six-month anniversary. So have at it!
( Read more... )
A week later, Sam forgot the second half of an incantation for banishing poltergeists, the very same incantation he had been spouting from memory since he was eleven years old. He took a letter opener to the abdomen for that one and later, when Dean stitched him up on a hotel bed, sans pills or whiskey at Sam’s demand, Dean declared, “No more hunts until you take a fucking nap.”
Dean tugged a little too hard when he knotted off the stitches, didn’t like how Sam’s wince came like an afterthought, two seconds too late.
And of course, months of barely eating and barely sleeping and popping No-Doz like TicTacs meant that Sam’s body was not operating in prime condition, or even moderately favorable condition and when he spiked a fever, Dean guiltily hoped he would pass out. When Sam didn’t, when he just lay in bed, propped up on pillows and more out of it than in, but still refusing to consent to the much needed rest, Dean wiped a wet cloth over his face and said, “I’m calling Cas.”
“Don’t.”
Dean trailed lower, over Sam’s neck and his chest, where his ribs strained painfully against pale skin. “Then I’m taking you to the hospital and letting them drug you into submission.” He tossed the washcloth back into the ice bucket, slid his arms behind Sam’s back, and wrapped the blankets around his too-skinny form. Sam struggled weakly as Dean hoisted him up; trembling with fever and terror and effort. Dean eased him into the passenger seat, slammed the door as he slid behind the wheel.
“Castiel or the hospital. Those are your options, Sam.”
“I don’t-“
“Castiel or the hospital.”
It was quiet in the Impala, late enough that the parking lot of the San-Dee Motel in Alamogordo, New Mexico was empty of other people and the highway beyond that was dark and silent.
And then Sam lost it.
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“You’ll wake up Sam. I’ll wake you up.”
“-and Jess. Ellen and Jo. Everyone, Dean. Over and over again. Me and you and Bobby-“
“It isn’t real, Sam.”
“-and Dad and Mom and Adam and-“
“Sam.”
“-and you and Jess and you-“
Dean pulled Sam close against his chest, a sharp pile of heaving bone and scratchy blankets; tattered nerves, smoothing always stupid too-long hair back, fingers catching on greasy tangles. Sam’s eyes were wide, but unseeing, his mantra reduced to simply, “and you and you and you.”
Dean glanced out the window into the empty night, calling, softly, “Castiel.”
“And Castiel too.” Sam mumbled before reverting to his “and yous.”
“Yes, Dean?” No flash of light, no thunder, no trumpets; just one minute the backseat was empty and then it wasn’t.
Dean shot Castiel a glance, “Put him to sleep.”
Castiel’s head tilted to the side like he was debating the merits of such an action and Dean wanted to punch him because it didn’t take an angel of the lord to see that Sam was finally completely losing his shit because he hadn’t slept in three months and before that he was in Hell for who knew how long with two very pissed off archangels and seriously? What was there to debate?
“Are you thinking about it? Don’t think about it just do it! Look at him, Cas! Jesus Christ-“
“Sam does not wish to be forced to relive his time with Michael and Lucifer.”
“I get that, Cas. I really do. And I promise that I’ll be all ready to give Sammy here a big hug when he wakes up.”
“You do not understand.” Castiel shifted his gaze from the back of Sam’s head to Dean’s eyes, “If I put Sam under, he will sleep until he is healed. In his current state, that could be a considerable amount of time. He will be unable to wake up.”
“Need to wake up, Dean.” Sam mumbled against Dean’s chest, “Need to wake up. Need to wake up. Need to wake-“
“Then what do you suggest we do, Cas?”
Castiel tilted his head the other way. He reached out to smooth a piece of Sam’s hair behind his ear. He leaned over the seat and brought his lips close to Sam’s ear, “You must sleep, Sam.”
“No. No no no no no.”
“You will sleep, Sam.” Castiel glanced at the clear night sky, a small grin tugging his lips as the metallic ting of fat raindrops hitting the roof of the Impala filled the air.
“Is that rain?” Dean squinted at the streaks across the Impala’s windshield, blurring the pink and yellow neon of the hotel into colorful streaks.
“Yes.” Castiel said.
“We’re in the middle of a desert.” Dean turned towards the angel, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“So you are.”
Dean’s face broke into a full-fledged smile, “Remember when you were a kid, Sammy? You always slept better when it was raining.”
“Not sleeping.” Sam muttered, but Dean could already feel him relaxing against him in the cramped front seat, “Not sleeping.”
Dean carefully adjusted Sam, mindful of the stitches in his abs, so that he was nestled in the V of Dean’s legs, his back pressed against Dean’s chest, Dean himself snug against the driver’s side door, both Winchester’s cocooned in the blankets from the hotel room. Dean watched as Sam’s breathing evened out and his body went limp. His forehead was still creased with tension because Sam was a bitch, but it was okay. It was fine.
Castiel and Dean watched Sam sleep for a few moments before Castiel spoke up, “I have to go. Would you like me to relocate you two back inside your hotel room before I leave?”
Dean shook his head and carefully wrapped an arm around Sam’s gently rising and falling chest, “Nah, we’re good, Cas. Thanks.”
And then the backseat was empty again, but the rain kept falling steadily and Dean rested his chin on the top of Sam’s head, tugging him closer. Sam snuffled in his sleep, but didn’t wake, one hand snaking out from beneath the blanket to wrap itself around the arm across his chest.
Dean listened to the rain ping against the Impala well into the night, ready to chase Sam's nightmares away if such services were needed.
They weren't.
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That was perfect.
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This fic is awesome, and I'm going to cuddle it now.
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I just want to cuddle this story - everything is lovely, but particularly Castiel performing just a small miracle to help Sam sleep.
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I had a brief thought of flash floods in the desert from too much rain, but then I realized Cas could've just narrowed the rainclouds to a 1 block radius. It'd just be another weird thing in their world.
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I'm glad you liked!
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*adores this*
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I've recently come to adore writing comment fic. People come up with amazing ideas and other people interpret those ideas in their own ways. It's like one big, beautiful collaboration.
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