A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night

[wingsandwill]

Who: Castiel and Sam Winchester
When: New Year's Eve
Where: Sam's apartment
Summary: Multiple bad situations all collide into an even worse one
Warnings: PG-13 for blood and stupid destructive behavior

Comments

[wingsandwill]

After losing Dean, the risk was too high not to act. Castiel had never been that confident in Crowley's plan, and as the past few days had gone by, he'd become less and less certain, and he wasn't going to watch Sam possibly die when he could do something so simple to prevent it.

He hadn't done enough for Dean; he'd be certain he didn't make the same mistake.

Finishing rolling his sleeve, he picked up the knife, glancing at Sam once just to gauge him. Despite Castiel's depressed apathy there was no forgetting what had happened in August, and there was still a part of him that was cautious. But Sam seemed calm, and with no additional fanfare Castiel pressed the knife to the side of his arm.

It barely registered as hurting, and instead he was glad on some level to be doing something. Holding his arm over the glass, it would take a short time to fill to the desired amount; he hadn't cut that deeply. He needed to use that arm without any issue, after all, because if he couldn't questions would be asked, and no one was to find out about this.

"You stated last time that there were different effects." He wasn't sure why he bothered to speak, but he felt like doing so, and he was just faintly curious. He remembered Sam saying he'd healed, something he hadn't really thought about all that much since this really hadn't been a plan, but maybe there'd be unexpected benefits to this entire mess.

[family_remains]

And if there was anything they could use right now, it was a few unexpected benefits.

Sam nodded, averting his eyes from Castiel's arm as he bled. This situation, or the bare parameters in any case, were eerily similar to their last run in. And the last thing Sam wanted to do was risk losing control of himself again. Though, if asked about it today he would still maintain he was affected by some Core related event. And really sincerely want to believe it was true.

Truth be told, he couldn't really be sure, any more.

He wasn't the same guy he was when he arrived. And under such difficult circumstances it's a wonder he was still alive. Sam had been seconds away from saying Yes, filled to the gills with demon blood, and fully aware that he was at the end of the line, only to, what. Show up in some random bizarre bubble world with no purpose and no way to burn through the excess power he had taken on. There had come a warning, once, that too much blood would twist him into something beyond human. And that was back before he ever considered saying Yes. Before he knew he'd have to make that choice. And now? After all that and so many months of Crowley's supply - incredibly powerful in and of itself - he couldn't give it up. Sure, part of him wanted to. The human part. The part that knew it was wrong. But the power inside him, and the fear of what might happen if he were to try to kick the habit again.. It just wasn't worth the risk.

Which is why they were where they were.

"It was amazing." No exaggeration, only a quiet honesty, spoken from behind clasped hands held absently against his chin.

"I felt things... I can't even explain. I was faster, more clear, I healed almost immediately...and..there was this feeling, you know? Like I could make a difference. Like I had the strength to make a difference."

[wingsandwill]

He was quiet, eyes focused on what he was doing instead of on Sam, watching his own blood drip into the glass. Sam had mentioned the healing before, and it made sense for it to be a side effect, though he disregarded the last thing Sam stated. That could easily have been a psychological effect, and likely was; didn't he feel similarly on demon blood?

But Castiel was briefly a little uncertain about what might happen this time. Castiel's grace was stronger, incredibly so, and he was still barely half the strength he was before he'd carved the banishing sigil into his chest in the attempt to rescue Adam. If the pattern held, he'd simply continue to become more so, and he wondered if that increase in strength would reflect in his blood.

"Healing will be of great use." He finally said, and he meant it. If Sam could heal himself? What had happened to Dean would probably not be a risk to him. It would make him so much safer in general, and that alone would be worth taking this risk.

He still intended though to try once again to get Sam's addiction under control, to try once again to step down dosages over a long time, more gradually. It would be easier to do so when they weren't relying on an outside factor like Crowley.

[family_remains]

Sam nodded. It was definitely an improvement over demon blood which drastically improved his abilities but played with his mind. He couldn't afford clouded judgement any more. Things had gotten way too out of hand.

Something in the back of his mind wondered if he would develop any other new abilities. It was exciting. The ambition that had been building up in him for months couldn't wait. How could he use them, what could he do, how would it feel. Looking back on all the opportunities he and Dean had come across, it had always been his brother piloting by the moral compass. Not that Sam was amoral, that isn't the point, but he was always more open to the possibilities. Things didn't have to be so black and white. He wasn't so scared to step off the path a little bit if it meant getting things done. Hell, they'd had the chance to be immortal once and they passed it up. Yeah, it was weird, and they would be the same as the things they hunted, but how many problems would it have solved. How many times had they gotten hurt or killed, and how many times could they have walked away if they had just taken that one little detour.

This wasn't as drastic, but it was just as exciting. Careful, practical Sam didn't have a choice in the matter. Dark, opportunistic, survivalist Sam had the wheel. And really, if you think about it, there were worse things than drinking the blood of an angel. In a city full of monsters it wasn't surprising that you had to become one to get by. Everyone here had an ability, right? Wasn't that just the same? There was no harm in helping his along, especially when the stakes were so high.

[wingsandwill]

Likewise, Castiel's moral compass was different. It was less that he saw more shades of grey, and more that he was simply ruthless; if something would work and achieve the best results, and wasn't completely against those things he held closest in importance, he's do it.

This was distasteful, certainly not something that should be done long term. But at the moment it was the best option, it made the most sense, it had the most benefits with the least risk. That overrode any sense of whether it was wrong, which he was pretty sure it was, though there were many things far worse.

When the glass was half full, he pulled his arm away, reaching for the towel set aside on the table and pressing it to the cut. He'd need to get it bandaged--surely Sam could do that since bandaging one-handed would be clumsy--and then it could be hidden easily enough.

He didn't bother to offer the glass to Sam, instead looking away; he didn't particularly care to watch him drink it. "How long will it last?" How often will this need to be done? Every few days? He wasn't certain how long the demon blood's effects lasted, let alone how long his might.