Fic: Fly To The Angels, Heaven Awaits Your Heart
Title: Fly To The Angels, Heaven Awaits Your Heart
Author: songstone_24
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Warnings: AU set after 7x17, angst, character death
Word Count: 3,674
Summary: Love. The word, the association of that four lettered word to Sam Winchester, and the picture of the man himself lying cold and restless in bed, made Castiel’s heart lurch.
Authors Note: Written as part of the sassyexchange2012 over on Tumblr. I was very nervous about posting this--this is my first ever exchange. It was a lot of fun, but so nerve-wracking! I hope I did all right...I know it isn't my best, but I really tried. Title taken from the song "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter.
* * *
“I’m so sorry, Sam.”
He must have repeated that apology at least a dozen times within the past hour. Wait. Was it an hour, or was it two? Father help him, he didn’t know how long he had been there. Was it yesterday that Dean had left the cabin? Or was it only thirty minutes ago? Castiel didn’t remember. He didn’t care. His only concern was Sam--had been Sam since he and Dean had busted him out of that hospital…two days ago? Two hours ago?
And how long had it taken until Sam had quit fighting him and allowed Cas to hold him like this? Had it taken hours? Or minutes? Cas didn’t bother to try and remember. He held Sam now, and that was all that mattered. All that mattered was the broken heap of a once powerful man lying shaken and fevered with delirium against Castiel’s chest.
Cas ignored everything else. His focus was on Sam. He had tried everything he could think of to ease his suffering, but nothing had worked. Not even shifting Sam’s memories into his own mind. Sam was still seeing Lucifer; he was still suffering. He was dying slowly, and it was all Cas’ fault.
Flinching with the almost painful surge of emotions that assaulted him as he remembered that day, Cas could only quietly run his fingers through Sam’s hair and try to soothe. He tried to protect, to make things all right. But there was very little he could do for Sam--the least of it was to lie in bed with him and cradle him. Try to comfort. He lowered his head and placed his lips, chapped and dry, against Sam’s temple. It was a small gesture, but Castiel poured himself out into it, caring, protective, apologetic, and so heavy with guilt.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You aren’t real.” Sam’s words were slurred. They fell from his lips, thick and heavy. His eyes rolled from one corner of the room to the other, glazed and dull. The area beneath his lower lashes was purplish, and his eyes were sunken in. His skin was pallid, and sticky with a cold sweat. He looked sick. He was sick. And Cas knew that he couldn’t help him and it hurt.
“Sam.” Cas tried again.
“No…” Sam’s moan was broken and piteous.
“Sam, I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
A sob tore out of Sam at those words, and Cas winced at the sound. “Why not?” Sam bemoaned. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Oh, Father, Castiel realized. He’s seeing Lucifer, not me.
“Sam. Please.” Why was he begging? This wasn’t something Sam could fix himself. Begging was useless. “It’s me. It’s Cas.”
Sam’s head flopped backwards and into the crook of Cas’ elbow. He was weakly turning his head from side to side in a negative gesture. “You aren’t Castiel.” Sam croaked. “Cas is dead. Just stop it. Stop everything.”
Cas released the breath of air he had held in his lungs and shut his eyes. He remained there with his head lowered, his mouth pressed against the cold skin of Sam’s temple. He wished he could just take everything back. He wished he could just kiss away the damage that had been done--that his kisses could rebuild the wall he had brought crashing down so recklessly. He was right here. He wanted more than anything to be able to save Sam, but there was nothing to be done anymore. Now all he could do was wait. It distressed him to think of it in that perspective, but all he could do anymore was wait for Sam to die.
“Shh…” Cas gently shushed Sam and started to run his fingers through his hair again when he sensed the man becoming restless and panicked in his hold. He wrapped his arm tighter around Sam’s neck and shoulders, forcing him into resting his face against Castiel’s collar-bone. Cas shifted his legs, spreading them wider in order to fit Sam’s body between his thighs as he manhandled Sam into a position that was to his liking. It was flush against his own body, but that was what Cas wanted. His body heat and the rapid, heavy, thrum of his heart pumping blood through his veins had been helping to calm Sam--minutely, but helping nevertheless.
Sam didn’t protest. He was much too exhausted for that anymore. Instead, he settled into Cas’ body and turned his head just so and fixed his gaze onto Cas’ adam’s apple as it bobbed whenever he swallowed or made an effort to tell Sam that he was all right. Cas didn’t mind the blank stares, but he felt immensely better when Sam’s eyes began to drift shut and he snored softly. Sam needed to rest.
Cas counted the precious seconds that Sam slept. It wasn’t for long, but it was something, and he tried to use a bit of his Grace to try and keep Sam under longer than he usually would have stayed asleep. It worked for the most part, and Sam would usually manage to sleep for at least a couple of minutes without being roused by some kind of vicious nightmare. In the meantime, Cas did his best to stay perfectly immobile lest he jostle Sam and wake him unintentionally. He kept Sam against himself though, holding firm.
Some time (Minutes? Seconds?) later, Sam made a strangled sound from the back of his throat, his eyes snapping open and fixing on the cracks in the ceiling. His brow creased, and his eyes were glistening with moisture. His pupils were blown. He was a wreck, and whatever it was that he was witnessing above their heads had him beginning to shake.
“Sam.” Cas tried the instant he realized that Sam was awake. “Sam, it’s all right. I’m right here with you.”
Sam’s eyes shifted slowly, from the ceiling to Cas’ face. He stared for a long time, his expression unreadable. Cas wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but knew the answer when Sam’s eyes filled with tears and he coughed out a harsh, broken, sob.
* * *
Dean returned later (Cas wasn’t sure if it was a quick return, or if he had been waiting alone with Sam for hours, so he chalked up Dean’s return as happening ‘later’). He had bottled water, soda, and fast food.
Both Cas and Dean spent a while trying to feed Sam, but he didn’t hold much down and after a few french fries he quit trying to chew and wouldn’t respond to the food they pressed against his lips. He drank water, though, which was good.
Dean wasn’t speaking to Cas much. He was still trying to figure things out--his best friend was back from the ‘dead’ and his baby brother was seeing Lucifer in his head. There was nothing that they could do, memories and mojo aside. Cas didn’t blame him for withdrawing.
Dean spoke to Sam, though. He tried to talk to him and gauge a reaction, but he never got anything besides fear or confusion. Cas had been getting those same reactions from Sam the entirety of Dean’s absence. He was sad to know that Sam didn’t even recognize his own beloved older brother.
When Dean slept, Cas regained his post at Sam’s bedside. Neither of them slept, and it was a lonely, sad, silence that engulfed them as they lay there awake. Sam would occasionally break the quiet with little whimpers or mumbled words of protest, but Cas chased them away with his gentle promises of peace. He much preferred to own Sam in his arms in those times when it was just the two of them. Cas somehow felt more secure knowing that Sam was there, nestled protectively into his chest; Cas also had a certain theory that Sam could hear Cas’ heartbeat as he lay with his head tucked under his chin and his ear against his collarbone. He had the idea that it soothed him, in a way, so he kept him there in the hopes that he would be easing some of Sam’s suffering with that small gesture.
It was easier to judge the days now that Dean was back. When Dean would fall asleep, it meant that it was nighttime. When Dean woke up, it was a new day. Three days passed. Sam didn’t sleep much, hardly ate. He drank less and less water as the days wore on, and he did little more than gurgle it back up and let it spill from his lips. When it got bad enough, Dean turned to Cas and spoke.
“I need to go to town again. Gonna go see about where I can get an IV drip to hook him up to.” He looked haggard and worn. Desperate for more time. Castiel was aware of just how human Dean really was in that moment. His eyes were red and the stubble on his chin had grown out more than he usually would have allowed it. He seemed to have lost weight, and it mirrored Sam’s own withering physique. “Watch him.”
“Of course.” Dean didn’t need to remind him to do that. “Be careful.”
Dean left after a curt nod, and after he had grabbed Bobby’s flask and tucked it safely away within his jacket pocket. Cas frowned at the action--not because of the fact that Dean was planning on drinking and driving, but because the air had suddenly surged with an unseen force. It was full of frustration and sadness. Cas wasn’t quite sure what it was. He would have looked into it further, but Sam required his full attention now that Dean was gone.
And since it was only Cas there to look after Sam, he was able to take up his usual position. He crawled into the bed to join Sam, slipping off his shoes as he did so. They thudded to the floor and Sam, his back to Cas, gave a start, his shoulders drawing up close to his ears.
“Sam.” Cas called softly, futilely. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
Sam made a soft moan from the back of his throat. It was the only sign of acknowledgement he gave, and even then, it was quieter than it had been on previous occasions. Cas frowned, and reached his hand out for Sam as he bundled under the blanket and touched his fingers to the skin of his arm. Instantly, Cas knew that something was wrong. Sam’s body temperature was dropping, and he was shivering beneath the thick quilt. This was only to be expected. Cas had been awaiting this, armed with the knowledge that Sam’s immune system was weakening and leaving him susceptible to almost any illness, but it was still a sharp jolt of anguish to his heart when he realized that Sam was really dying. No miracles here. Cas couldn’t save him from this. Even if he could heal his body and hydrate it, keep him well physically, it still wouldn’t change the fact that Sam was going to remain in the same mental state for the rest of his life. It would be a terrible existence.
Dean and Cas had come to an agreement, albeit an unspoken one, that Cas would do nothing more than make sure Sam wasn’t in any physical pain when he passed. After all, neither of them wanted to live with the fact that they were keeping Sam alive only to have him suffer through Lucifer’s torment. That was selfish. And neither Dean nor Cas wanted that for Sam, no matter how much they loved him.
Love. The word, the association of that four lettered word to Sam Winchester, and the picture of the man himself lying cold and restless in bed, made Castiel’s heart lurch. It was almost a punishment of sorts how ‘love’ had come about, because it wasn’t gradual. It was sudden, and shocking, and Castiel hadn’t known what it was at all until he had seen Sam for the first time since he’d ‘died’ all those months ago.
Back in that hospital room, looking down at the shadow of the man Sam once was, Cas had felt it. The first of many sparks igniting a fire in his chest. It hurt, in an odd way, but it also felt pleasantly like he had somehow consumed a hive of honey bees and they were working on their nectar in his belly. It was an odd feeling. One that Cas had never before experienced in all of his years as an Angel or his months spent as a ‘human.’ All Cas knew was that his heart had burned and clenched within its chambers the instant he laid eyes on Sam and realized the full extend of his thoughtless action. He recognized remorse when he felt it, as well as a longing for redemption, but the honey bee feeling was new.
His palm had tingled when he pressed it flat against Sam’s forehead and stretched his Grace outwards towards him, brushing over his mind, swimming and caressing, withdrawing when he felt the sharp, jagged edges of a damaged mind biting back at him.
But that seemed like so long ago, now. Back in that hospital room, realizing for the first time that he was capable of loving not only his father, not only the human race, but one human out of billions of others. That feeling was meant to be happy. Cas was meant to rejoice at the overwhelming sense of delight the revelation brought to him, but he couldn’t. Why would Cas rejoice when the human whom he realized his feelings for couldn’t be saved and was going to die before the month was done?
“Oh, Sam.” Cas softly sang. He had Sam in his arms once again, leaning him against his chest. Sam had the quilt wrapped snuggly around his form for warmth. “I know you can’t hear me. Not really.” He swallowed hard, his body rocking forward and then back in a slow, teetering, motion. “But I’m here.” Surprisingly, Sam remained quiet. No whimpers or moans of protest to Cas’ words. He simply lay limp against Cas, breathing labored. Cas continued to rock, and he spoke in a low, even tone. If talking wasn’t frightening Sam anymore, then Cas would speak. He would pour out every thought that had been rattling around in his head. He wanted to let the words form his heart be spoken aloud to their desired target before it was too late.
“I’m sorry I ever did this to you, Sam. If there is one thing I regret more than anything in the entirety of my existence, it is the fact that I did this to you. I was not myself. I was selfish, and foolish.” Teetering forward and backwards, Cas allowed himself to move one hand away from Sam’s hip and comb back some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes. “And after it all…after Purgatory, and after I declared myself ‘god’…you reached out to me.” His arm around Sam’s shoulders pulled him closer in a gentle, fluid, embrace. “You alone called out to me. I heard you, Sam. Every word that you prayed. You believed, really, that I was still ‘one of you.’ You wanted to help me, Sam. I will never forget that.”
Sam’s breathing was shallow now. His eyes were glazed over and the light in them was dim. He was staring at nothing. Cas wasn’t sure whether to take it as a good sign because Lucifer wasn’t doing anything attention-grabbing, or to take it as bad news because Sam no longer had the will to even shift his gaze elsewhere.
“You know, when I regained my memories and went into that hospital to save you, all I could think about was all the wrongs I’ve committed against you. You’ve always been nothing but kind to me, Sam. From the moment we met.” He swallowed hard as his memories went back to that day, the first of many spent with Sam and Dean. “Your admiration and respect for Heaven was flattering. And as time continued on, you proved yourself to be more than just the boy with the demon blood. You became my friend.”
Sam blinked. It was reflexive, not responsive. Cas didn’t let that deter him.
“How I could ever do this to you after all the kindness you have shown me…I can never come to forgive myself. I’m sorry, Sam. If I could, I would spirit your soul to Heaven myself. As it is, I’m not permitted past their gates. I can’t even hear my brothers and sisters. But that’s understandable.” Cas’ fingers caught on a knot in Sam’s hair and he began to work on untangling it. “But I can guarantee that you have a spot awaiting you there. You might have done wrongs in your life time, but what human hasn’t? You’ve made amends. You served in Heaven’s best interest even when Heaven didn’t know what was best for itself. You’re a fine example of a human being if I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting one. You and your brother both. But Sam, you…you’re…”
Sam was hardly breathing at all now. His eyes were at half mast. Cas wasn’t expecting the end to come so quickly now that he was expressing himself. He would have thought that at least Dean would have been there with him, helping to say goodbye. But he wasn’t. It was only Castiel and Sam. And Cas wasn’t as ready as he once thought he was. He still sent a wave of Grace washing over Sam, helping to ease any panic he might have felt, and to dissolve any pain from his body. He wanted the transition to go by as smoothly as possible for Sam. This was the least he could do.
“Sam. You mean…you mean so much to me. And for me to figure everything out when things are far out of my control is cruel irony. And that you had to suffer for it, I apologize. Just please…know that I will forever regret the decision I made to break down the wall in your head. I can never take it back, and I…” The choked sound startled Cas. He had never made a noise like that before. Was his vessel ill? His blue eyes widened in surprise as his vision blurred and then suddenly with a flutter of eyelashes, hot tears were streaming down Cas’ face. They were the first tears he had ever shed in this human form. They were salty as they fell over his lips and onto his tongue.
“Sam.” Cas choked out. His voice shook. He embraced Sam fully, his cheek resting against the top of his head. “Sam, I love you.” The words came easily now. This was the last time he would ever get the chance to say them, so he seized the opportunity. “I love you, Samuel Winchester. And your brother loves you so much. I hate to lose you. I want to be selfish and keep you here, try to fix you, but there is no way. You would be in constant torment. I would never do that to you.”
Sam stirred then. It was a small movement, a push as he shifted his shoulders, but Cas noticed. He pulled away slowly, and looked down at Sam as he lay in his arms. He was surprised to find those dull green eyes searching his face. The light was still fading from the green orbs, and Sam still looked sick and near death, but he was focused on Cas now, for some reason. After all this time… Sam was finally making eye contact. He seemed lucid.
And then his lips parted.
“C-Cas?” His voice was a wheeze as he forced the question from his mouth. To Castiel, the sound was like bells, loud and gorgeous.
“Sam.” He nodded slowly, letting Sam study his expression. He must have looked grievous. Sam’s eyebrows drew together. “I…I’m s-sorry.” Cas choked out, throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I’m so--so sorry.” He held the tears back; didn’t want them to fall on Sam’s face and distress him further.
“Cas.” Sam rasped again. He stared up at the Angel and watched him fight with a body that wanted to express emotions that Cas was not comfortable with. And then Sam’s lips quirked and pulled up in the barest of smiles. It was fucking beautiful. “Alive…you…” He winced and then shied his eyes away from something just above Cas’ head. He made a hurt noise, even though Cas had long since dulled his pain receptors.
“Yes.” Oh, Father, this is what Sam uses his lasts words for? Cas is humbled. “I’m alive, Sam.” He watches as Sam stabilizes again and turns back to face him once more, looking more exhausted than before. Cas swallows down some bile in his throat. “It’s okay, Sam.” He says softly. “I’m right here with you.”
And it must be Sam’s brain finally shutting down, Cas thinks, because Sam doesn’t seem to be getting distracted by anything else over the next few minutes that pass. He just stares up at Cas, struggling to suck in air, making rasping noises every time he inhaled.
“Sam I love you.” Cas says instead of goodbye.
Sam blinks, then his lips twitch again but they don’t pull up.
“I love you.” Cas starts to run his fingers through Sam’s hair again, nails against his scalp in a gentle massage. “It’s okay, you know. Rest. I won’t let you go.” He was telling him it’s all right. “Sleep, Sam.” You can go.
When Sam sleeps, Cas lowers his head and gently lets his lips brush over Sam’s slightly parted ones. He both feels and hears Sam’s last breath leave his body, and Cas sobs for a long time, silently, not noticing the tears as he savors the last licks of warmth from Sam’s body pressed against his chest.
Sam’s light is gone and Cas has never seen the world look so dark.
Author: songstone_24
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Warnings: AU set after 7x17, angst, character death
Word Count: 3,674
Summary: Love. The word, the association of that four lettered word to Sam Winchester, and the picture of the man himself lying cold and restless in bed, made Castiel’s heart lurch.
Authors Note: Written as part of the sassyexchange2012 over on Tumblr. I was very nervous about posting this--this is my first ever exchange. It was a lot of fun, but so nerve-wracking! I hope I did all right...I know it isn't my best, but I really tried. Title taken from the song "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter.
* * *
“I’m so sorry, Sam.”
He must have repeated that apology at least a dozen times within the past hour. Wait. Was it an hour, or was it two? Father help him, he didn’t know how long he had been there. Was it yesterday that Dean had left the cabin? Or was it only thirty minutes ago? Castiel didn’t remember. He didn’t care. His only concern was Sam--had been Sam since he and Dean had busted him out of that hospital…two days ago? Two hours ago?
And how long had it taken until Sam had quit fighting him and allowed Cas to hold him like this? Had it taken hours? Or minutes? Cas didn’t bother to try and remember. He held Sam now, and that was all that mattered. All that mattered was the broken heap of a once powerful man lying shaken and fevered with delirium against Castiel’s chest.
Cas ignored everything else. His focus was on Sam. He had tried everything he could think of to ease his suffering, but nothing had worked. Not even shifting Sam’s memories into his own mind. Sam was still seeing Lucifer; he was still suffering. He was dying slowly, and it was all Cas’ fault.
Flinching with the almost painful surge of emotions that assaulted him as he remembered that day, Cas could only quietly run his fingers through Sam’s hair and try to soothe. He tried to protect, to make things all right. But there was very little he could do for Sam--the least of it was to lie in bed with him and cradle him. Try to comfort. He lowered his head and placed his lips, chapped and dry, against Sam’s temple. It was a small gesture, but Castiel poured himself out into it, caring, protective, apologetic, and so heavy with guilt.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You aren’t real.” Sam’s words were slurred. They fell from his lips, thick and heavy. His eyes rolled from one corner of the room to the other, glazed and dull. The area beneath his lower lashes was purplish, and his eyes were sunken in. His skin was pallid, and sticky with a cold sweat. He looked sick. He was sick. And Cas knew that he couldn’t help him and it hurt.
“Sam.” Cas tried again.
“No…” Sam’s moan was broken and piteous.
“Sam, I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
A sob tore out of Sam at those words, and Cas winced at the sound. “Why not?” Sam bemoaned. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Oh, Father, Castiel realized. He’s seeing Lucifer, not me.
“Sam. Please.” Why was he begging? This wasn’t something Sam could fix himself. Begging was useless. “It’s me. It’s Cas.”
Sam’s head flopped backwards and into the crook of Cas’ elbow. He was weakly turning his head from side to side in a negative gesture. “You aren’t Castiel.” Sam croaked. “Cas is dead. Just stop it. Stop everything.”
Cas released the breath of air he had held in his lungs and shut his eyes. He remained there with his head lowered, his mouth pressed against the cold skin of Sam’s temple. He wished he could just take everything back. He wished he could just kiss away the damage that had been done--that his kisses could rebuild the wall he had brought crashing down so recklessly. He was right here. He wanted more than anything to be able to save Sam, but there was nothing to be done anymore. Now all he could do was wait. It distressed him to think of it in that perspective, but all he could do anymore was wait for Sam to die.
“Shh…” Cas gently shushed Sam and started to run his fingers through his hair again when he sensed the man becoming restless and panicked in his hold. He wrapped his arm tighter around Sam’s neck and shoulders, forcing him into resting his face against Castiel’s collar-bone. Cas shifted his legs, spreading them wider in order to fit Sam’s body between his thighs as he manhandled Sam into a position that was to his liking. It was flush against his own body, but that was what Cas wanted. His body heat and the rapid, heavy, thrum of his heart pumping blood through his veins had been helping to calm Sam--minutely, but helping nevertheless.
Sam didn’t protest. He was much too exhausted for that anymore. Instead, he settled into Cas’ body and turned his head just so and fixed his gaze onto Cas’ adam’s apple as it bobbed whenever he swallowed or made an effort to tell Sam that he was all right. Cas didn’t mind the blank stares, but he felt immensely better when Sam’s eyes began to drift shut and he snored softly. Sam needed to rest.
Cas counted the precious seconds that Sam slept. It wasn’t for long, but it was something, and he tried to use a bit of his Grace to try and keep Sam under longer than he usually would have stayed asleep. It worked for the most part, and Sam would usually manage to sleep for at least a couple of minutes without being roused by some kind of vicious nightmare. In the meantime, Cas did his best to stay perfectly immobile lest he jostle Sam and wake him unintentionally. He kept Sam against himself though, holding firm.
Some time (Minutes? Seconds?) later, Sam made a strangled sound from the back of his throat, his eyes snapping open and fixing on the cracks in the ceiling. His brow creased, and his eyes were glistening with moisture. His pupils were blown. He was a wreck, and whatever it was that he was witnessing above their heads had him beginning to shake.
“Sam.” Cas tried the instant he realized that Sam was awake. “Sam, it’s all right. I’m right here with you.”
Sam’s eyes shifted slowly, from the ceiling to Cas’ face. He stared for a long time, his expression unreadable. Cas wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but knew the answer when Sam’s eyes filled with tears and he coughed out a harsh, broken, sob.
* * *
Dean returned later (Cas wasn’t sure if it was a quick return, or if he had been waiting alone with Sam for hours, so he chalked up Dean’s return as happening ‘later’). He had bottled water, soda, and fast food.
Both Cas and Dean spent a while trying to feed Sam, but he didn’t hold much down and after a few french fries he quit trying to chew and wouldn’t respond to the food they pressed against his lips. He drank water, though, which was good.
Dean wasn’t speaking to Cas much. He was still trying to figure things out--his best friend was back from the ‘dead’ and his baby brother was seeing Lucifer in his head. There was nothing that they could do, memories and mojo aside. Cas didn’t blame him for withdrawing.
Dean spoke to Sam, though. He tried to talk to him and gauge a reaction, but he never got anything besides fear or confusion. Cas had been getting those same reactions from Sam the entirety of Dean’s absence. He was sad to know that Sam didn’t even recognize his own beloved older brother.
When Dean slept, Cas regained his post at Sam’s bedside. Neither of them slept, and it was a lonely, sad, silence that engulfed them as they lay there awake. Sam would occasionally break the quiet with little whimpers or mumbled words of protest, but Cas chased them away with his gentle promises of peace. He much preferred to own Sam in his arms in those times when it was just the two of them. Cas somehow felt more secure knowing that Sam was there, nestled protectively into his chest; Cas also had a certain theory that Sam could hear Cas’ heartbeat as he lay with his head tucked under his chin and his ear against his collarbone. He had the idea that it soothed him, in a way, so he kept him there in the hopes that he would be easing some of Sam’s suffering with that small gesture.
It was easier to judge the days now that Dean was back. When Dean would fall asleep, it meant that it was nighttime. When Dean woke up, it was a new day. Three days passed. Sam didn’t sleep much, hardly ate. He drank less and less water as the days wore on, and he did little more than gurgle it back up and let it spill from his lips. When it got bad enough, Dean turned to Cas and spoke.
“I need to go to town again. Gonna go see about where I can get an IV drip to hook him up to.” He looked haggard and worn. Desperate for more time. Castiel was aware of just how human Dean really was in that moment. His eyes were red and the stubble on his chin had grown out more than he usually would have allowed it. He seemed to have lost weight, and it mirrored Sam’s own withering physique. “Watch him.”
“Of course.” Dean didn’t need to remind him to do that. “Be careful.”
Dean left after a curt nod, and after he had grabbed Bobby’s flask and tucked it safely away within his jacket pocket. Cas frowned at the action--not because of the fact that Dean was planning on drinking and driving, but because the air had suddenly surged with an unseen force. It was full of frustration and sadness. Cas wasn’t quite sure what it was. He would have looked into it further, but Sam required his full attention now that Dean was gone.
And since it was only Cas there to look after Sam, he was able to take up his usual position. He crawled into the bed to join Sam, slipping off his shoes as he did so. They thudded to the floor and Sam, his back to Cas, gave a start, his shoulders drawing up close to his ears.
“Sam.” Cas called softly, futilely. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
Sam made a soft moan from the back of his throat. It was the only sign of acknowledgement he gave, and even then, it was quieter than it had been on previous occasions. Cas frowned, and reached his hand out for Sam as he bundled under the blanket and touched his fingers to the skin of his arm. Instantly, Cas knew that something was wrong. Sam’s body temperature was dropping, and he was shivering beneath the thick quilt. This was only to be expected. Cas had been awaiting this, armed with the knowledge that Sam’s immune system was weakening and leaving him susceptible to almost any illness, but it was still a sharp jolt of anguish to his heart when he realized that Sam was really dying. No miracles here. Cas couldn’t save him from this. Even if he could heal his body and hydrate it, keep him well physically, it still wouldn’t change the fact that Sam was going to remain in the same mental state for the rest of his life. It would be a terrible existence.
Dean and Cas had come to an agreement, albeit an unspoken one, that Cas would do nothing more than make sure Sam wasn’t in any physical pain when he passed. After all, neither of them wanted to live with the fact that they were keeping Sam alive only to have him suffer through Lucifer’s torment. That was selfish. And neither Dean nor Cas wanted that for Sam, no matter how much they loved him.
Love. The word, the association of that four lettered word to Sam Winchester, and the picture of the man himself lying cold and restless in bed, made Castiel’s heart lurch. It was almost a punishment of sorts how ‘love’ had come about, because it wasn’t gradual. It was sudden, and shocking, and Castiel hadn’t known what it was at all until he had seen Sam for the first time since he’d ‘died’ all those months ago.
Back in that hospital room, looking down at the shadow of the man Sam once was, Cas had felt it. The first of many sparks igniting a fire in his chest. It hurt, in an odd way, but it also felt pleasantly like he had somehow consumed a hive of honey bees and they were working on their nectar in his belly. It was an odd feeling. One that Cas had never before experienced in all of his years as an Angel or his months spent as a ‘human.’ All Cas knew was that his heart had burned and clenched within its chambers the instant he laid eyes on Sam and realized the full extend of his thoughtless action. He recognized remorse when he felt it, as well as a longing for redemption, but the honey bee feeling was new.
His palm had tingled when he pressed it flat against Sam’s forehead and stretched his Grace outwards towards him, brushing over his mind, swimming and caressing, withdrawing when he felt the sharp, jagged edges of a damaged mind biting back at him.
But that seemed like so long ago, now. Back in that hospital room, realizing for the first time that he was capable of loving not only his father, not only the human race, but one human out of billions of others. That feeling was meant to be happy. Cas was meant to rejoice at the overwhelming sense of delight the revelation brought to him, but he couldn’t. Why would Cas rejoice when the human whom he realized his feelings for couldn’t be saved and was going to die before the month was done?
“Oh, Sam.” Cas softly sang. He had Sam in his arms once again, leaning him against his chest. Sam had the quilt wrapped snuggly around his form for warmth. “I know you can’t hear me. Not really.” He swallowed hard, his body rocking forward and then back in a slow, teetering, motion. “But I’m here.” Surprisingly, Sam remained quiet. No whimpers or moans of protest to Cas’ words. He simply lay limp against Cas, breathing labored. Cas continued to rock, and he spoke in a low, even tone. If talking wasn’t frightening Sam anymore, then Cas would speak. He would pour out every thought that had been rattling around in his head. He wanted to let the words form his heart be spoken aloud to their desired target before it was too late.
“I’m sorry I ever did this to you, Sam. If there is one thing I regret more than anything in the entirety of my existence, it is the fact that I did this to you. I was not myself. I was selfish, and foolish.” Teetering forward and backwards, Cas allowed himself to move one hand away from Sam’s hip and comb back some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes. “And after it all…after Purgatory, and after I declared myself ‘god’…you reached out to me.” His arm around Sam’s shoulders pulled him closer in a gentle, fluid, embrace. “You alone called out to me. I heard you, Sam. Every word that you prayed. You believed, really, that I was still ‘one of you.’ You wanted to help me, Sam. I will never forget that.”
Sam’s breathing was shallow now. His eyes were glazed over and the light in them was dim. He was staring at nothing. Cas wasn’t sure whether to take it as a good sign because Lucifer wasn’t doing anything attention-grabbing, or to take it as bad news because Sam no longer had the will to even shift his gaze elsewhere.
“You know, when I regained my memories and went into that hospital to save you, all I could think about was all the wrongs I’ve committed against you. You’ve always been nothing but kind to me, Sam. From the moment we met.” He swallowed hard as his memories went back to that day, the first of many spent with Sam and Dean. “Your admiration and respect for Heaven was flattering. And as time continued on, you proved yourself to be more than just the boy with the demon blood. You became my friend.”
Sam blinked. It was reflexive, not responsive. Cas didn’t let that deter him.
“How I could ever do this to you after all the kindness you have shown me…I can never come to forgive myself. I’m sorry, Sam. If I could, I would spirit your soul to Heaven myself. As it is, I’m not permitted past their gates. I can’t even hear my brothers and sisters. But that’s understandable.” Cas’ fingers caught on a knot in Sam’s hair and he began to work on untangling it. “But I can guarantee that you have a spot awaiting you there. You might have done wrongs in your life time, but what human hasn’t? You’ve made amends. You served in Heaven’s best interest even when Heaven didn’t know what was best for itself. You’re a fine example of a human being if I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting one. You and your brother both. But Sam, you…you’re…”
Sam was hardly breathing at all now. His eyes were at half mast. Cas wasn’t expecting the end to come so quickly now that he was expressing himself. He would have thought that at least Dean would have been there with him, helping to say goodbye. But he wasn’t. It was only Castiel and Sam. And Cas wasn’t as ready as he once thought he was. He still sent a wave of Grace washing over Sam, helping to ease any panic he might have felt, and to dissolve any pain from his body. He wanted the transition to go by as smoothly as possible for Sam. This was the least he could do.
“Sam. You mean…you mean so much to me. And for me to figure everything out when things are far out of my control is cruel irony. And that you had to suffer for it, I apologize. Just please…know that I will forever regret the decision I made to break down the wall in your head. I can never take it back, and I…” The choked sound startled Cas. He had never made a noise like that before. Was his vessel ill? His blue eyes widened in surprise as his vision blurred and then suddenly with a flutter of eyelashes, hot tears were streaming down Cas’ face. They were the first tears he had ever shed in this human form. They were salty as they fell over his lips and onto his tongue.
“Sam.” Cas choked out. His voice shook. He embraced Sam fully, his cheek resting against the top of his head. “Sam, I love you.” The words came easily now. This was the last time he would ever get the chance to say them, so he seized the opportunity. “I love you, Samuel Winchester. And your brother loves you so much. I hate to lose you. I want to be selfish and keep you here, try to fix you, but there is no way. You would be in constant torment. I would never do that to you.”
Sam stirred then. It was a small movement, a push as he shifted his shoulders, but Cas noticed. He pulled away slowly, and looked down at Sam as he lay in his arms. He was surprised to find those dull green eyes searching his face. The light was still fading from the green orbs, and Sam still looked sick and near death, but he was focused on Cas now, for some reason. After all this time… Sam was finally making eye contact. He seemed lucid.
And then his lips parted.
“C-Cas?” His voice was a wheeze as he forced the question from his mouth. To Castiel, the sound was like bells, loud and gorgeous.
“Sam.” He nodded slowly, letting Sam study his expression. He must have looked grievous. Sam’s eyebrows drew together. “I…I’m s-sorry.” Cas choked out, throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I’m so--so sorry.” He held the tears back; didn’t want them to fall on Sam’s face and distress him further.
“Cas.” Sam rasped again. He stared up at the Angel and watched him fight with a body that wanted to express emotions that Cas was not comfortable with. And then Sam’s lips quirked and pulled up in the barest of smiles. It was fucking beautiful. “Alive…you…” He winced and then shied his eyes away from something just above Cas’ head. He made a hurt noise, even though Cas had long since dulled his pain receptors.
“Yes.” Oh, Father, this is what Sam uses his lasts words for? Cas is humbled. “I’m alive, Sam.” He watches as Sam stabilizes again and turns back to face him once more, looking more exhausted than before. Cas swallows down some bile in his throat. “It’s okay, Sam.” He says softly. “I’m right here with you.”
And it must be Sam’s brain finally shutting down, Cas thinks, because Sam doesn’t seem to be getting distracted by anything else over the next few minutes that pass. He just stares up at Cas, struggling to suck in air, making rasping noises every time he inhaled.
“Sam I love you.” Cas says instead of goodbye.
Sam blinks, then his lips twitch again but they don’t pull up.
“I love you.” Cas starts to run his fingers through Sam’s hair again, nails against his scalp in a gentle massage. “It’s okay, you know. Rest. I won’t let you go.” He was telling him it’s all right. “Sleep, Sam.” You can go.
When Sam sleeps, Cas lowers his head and gently lets his lips brush over Sam’s slightly parted ones. He both feels and hears Sam’s last breath leave his body, and Cas sobs for a long time, silently, not noticing the tears as he savors the last licks of warmth from Sam’s body pressed against his chest.
Sam’s light is gone and Cas has never seen the world look so dark.