Watch Out For Me, Part II
A/N: Here's the second part; slightly schmoopy, no real slash. I wanted to see if I could actually write something without porn and have it work and while I'm not terribly pleased with this, it's a start at least. And Cas finally gets his hug :3
Watch Out For Me, Part II
Sam snaps awake with hunter’s grace and glances across the motel room to see Dean in front of the mirror adjusting his tie. He’s dressed up in what the brothers have taken to calling the ‘Fed suit’, and Sam frowns as he throws the blankets off and climbs out of bed.
“Morning, princess,” Dean greets him cheerily enough, which tells Sam his brother has already been out to grab a coffee because that’s the only way he’s able to enunciate his words properly in the morning.
“What the hell, Dean,” Sam grumbles, “why’d you let me sleep so long? And are you going to an interview without me?” He can’t keep a bit of hurt from his voice; while they’d only had one case together since Sam’s soul was returned, he’d thought it had gone well and meant that things were now back to normal.
Dean turns and Sam sees that he at least has the decency to look a bit guilty. He also doesn’t miss the split second of evasive deception that flits across his older brother’s eyes, something he’s seen often enough he’s sure that that’s what it is.
“You looked like you needed your sleep,” he tries, and Sam rolls his eyes. Dean’s jaw flexes and he tries again. “Look, man, you’ve barely had your soul back a week now, and if you need some extra sleep to help transition from robot back to nerdy little brother, I’m gonna make sure you get it, alright?” He crosses the room briskly and grabs his phone and car keys before heading for the door. “I can handle the interview myself, Sammy, you just chill out here and do some research. I’ll come grab you for lunch.”
With that, Dean disappears and the door clicks shut behind him, leaving Sam scratching his chest idly and wondering what the hell Dean wasn’t telling him.
As he’s getting out of the shower, Sam suddenly gets a flash of memory - the glow of Christmas lights and the feel of Cas’ hand on his chest - and his dream comes flooding back to him, sharp and clear. He sucks in a breath as he remembers, and wraps a towel around his waist distractedly. Castiel, awkward but badass angel of the Lord, has been watching over his dreams, influencing them even, keeping Sam happy and safe when he knew Dean couldn’t.
Is he doing it for me, though, or is it really, in a roundabout way, just a favour to Dean? Sam stares at his reflection in the bathroom and continues in a thoughtful daze, brushing his teeth mechanically. Cas has always been, somehow, Dean’s; their bond is impossibly deep. Cas’ handprint is branded on Dean’s shoulder, a physical reminder that the angel has literally gone to Hell and back for the man. What is Sam in comparison? The fool who freed Lucifer from the cage. The wayward little brother who trusted a demon over his own flesh and blood.
Why would Cas ever bother with me, if not for Dean? Sam wonders bitterly. He grimaces as he realizes he’s just being whiny and self-pitying, but it’s hard not to feel a little jealous of the connection his brother has with Cas.
Sam wanders out of the bathroom to find fresh clothes, still bemused by his dream - so much so that he’s reaching for the towel around his waist and it’s only the sound of a throat being cleared that makes him freeze. He spins, and finds himself staring slightly slack-jawed at Cas, who’s sitting at a plastic table near the room’s front window. The angel’s hands are folded neatly in his lap, but he gets quickly to his feet as Sam gapes.
“I apologize if I’m intruding,” begins Cas, and Sam swears he sees a hint of amusement twitch across the angel’s lips.
“Uh.” Sam looks down at his bare chest and feels that the towel he’s wearing has suddenly become several inches shorter. Cas takes pity on him, though, and moves to stare out the window with his hands clasped behind his back as Sam rummages for a t-shirt and jeans to pull on.
“Alright, Cas, what’s up?” Sam asks when he’s dressed, and the angel turns to face him.
“I came to see what was upsetting you,” he says simply.
Sam raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m upset?” he asks, crossing his arms a bit defensively, but he’s also genuinely curious as to how Cas managed to divine his emotions from wherever-the-hell-he-was, and what made him believe it was serious enough to appear in the brothers’ dingy Oklahoma motel room.
Cas steps forward, undeterred by Sam’s closed-off stance, and tilts his head in his trademark way which serves to make Sam feel disconcertingly like a frightened animal being approached with caution.
“Sam,” he speaks hesitantly but in earnest, “I know you are upset. I can feel it, just as I can feel a variety of strong emotions from you.”
Sam opens his mouth to interject but Cas is right there, placing a gentle hand on his arm, so he shuts it again and listens. “I care for you, Sam. I have gotten to know and understand you and your brother during my time on Earth. I have touched your soul, on more than one occasion, and such an experience creates a powerful bond.” Cas pauses, looks down, purses his lips. Sam wonders if he’s nervous but thinks that’s impossible, Cas is always stoic and sure, unless he’s simply confused, which he certainly isn’t right now.
“You’re talking about what you said in my dream?” Sam asks. Starkly blue eyes obscured by feathery lashes flick up to Sam’s own. “About looking out for me there because Dean couldn’t?”
“Yes.”
“Cas, I -” Sam sighs, a rumbling sigh from deep in his chest and when Cas tenses, he realizes he’s about to push him away again and the last thing he wants to do now, after learning this, is push Cas away. “ - I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. Thank you, of course - I didn’t know you’ve been watching out for me like this. I didn’t know, and I’m sorry -”
“You apologize because you don’t think helping you, caring for you, is a valuable use of my time,” Cas interjects, looking disappointed and a bit hurt. Sam’s silent, but offers an uncomfortable grimace.
“I mean, Cas, I’m no Dean…” Sam says finally, spreading his palms in a helpless gesture, which, more than anything else he’s done so far, gets a rise out of Cas. The angel growls and turns from Sam, pacing away from him in exasperation but quickly reaching the far end of the tiny motel room and whirling to stalk right back to where he started. Sam imagines a caged tiger, an image that actually starts to worry him when he sees Cas’ eyes flash with restrained anger and feels himself suddenly shoved backwards, hard.
“You doubt yourself - far too much!” Cas hisses. He’s gripping the lapels of Sam’s coat now, and although Sam stands almost a full head taller, he suddenly feels very small. “Sam, I have felt your soul. You are similar to Dean in many ways, yes, but you are also entirely different. I am…I feel drawn to your emotions - your strong empathy and concern…your bravery and intelligence. I know the power of all of these, now, thanks to you, Sam. So of course I am going to watch out for you. As long as I can help you, I will not hesitate to do so.”
There’s a long silence, and neither of them moves. Sam is thunderstruck. Finally Cas looks away, releases Sam and steps back.
“Cas…” Sam starts, then stops abruptly. He’s looking at the ground but his mind is racing, flashing through moments of the past week, since he’d woken up at Bobby’s with his soul back. He remembers all his recent dreams, from Christmas on back, to one of his first hunts alone with Dean. He remembers Dean’s reassurance, on his first day back being whole again, that Cas was still alive, and the relief that had washed through him. He remembers Cas being the one to naively let slip about his year spent alive and soulless, how hard he’d worked to hide his horror. Then he remembers greeting Cas that day, how the angel had stepped in - as happy as he’d ever remembered seeing him - for a hug. And Sam had just…sat down.
Look, I would hug you, but…
It would be awkward.
Cas is good at hiding his emotions, they all are. But he hadn’t been able to hide the crestfallen expression Sam had pretended, at the time, not to see.
Shit, Sam thinks, as the full force of realization hits him. Oh shit. Goddamnit, I’m an idiot…
“Cas,” he says again, hoarsely. He doesn’t need to say anymore. Cas is watching him, silently; Sam crosses the distance between them in two long strides, opens his arms wide, and envelops Cas in a rough bear hug. Cas lets out a muffled sound as he’s pressed against Sam’s chest, but he raises his arms to return the hug and Sam just holds him there, in gratitude or apology, or both, he doesn’t know or care.
“Sorry that took so long,” Sam finally mutters quietly.
Cas smiles.
Watch Out For Me, Part II
Sam snaps awake with hunter’s grace and glances across the motel room to see Dean in front of the mirror adjusting his tie. He’s dressed up in what the brothers have taken to calling the ‘Fed suit’, and Sam frowns as he throws the blankets off and climbs out of bed.
“Morning, princess,” Dean greets him cheerily enough, which tells Sam his brother has already been out to grab a coffee because that’s the only way he’s able to enunciate his words properly in the morning.
“What the hell, Dean,” Sam grumbles, “why’d you let me sleep so long? And are you going to an interview without me?” He can’t keep a bit of hurt from his voice; while they’d only had one case together since Sam’s soul was returned, he’d thought it had gone well and meant that things were now back to normal.
Dean turns and Sam sees that he at least has the decency to look a bit guilty. He also doesn’t miss the split second of evasive deception that flits across his older brother’s eyes, something he’s seen often enough he’s sure that that’s what it is.
“You looked like you needed your sleep,” he tries, and Sam rolls his eyes. Dean’s jaw flexes and he tries again. “Look, man, you’ve barely had your soul back a week now, and if you need some extra sleep to help transition from robot back to nerdy little brother, I’m gonna make sure you get it, alright?” He crosses the room briskly and grabs his phone and car keys before heading for the door. “I can handle the interview myself, Sammy, you just chill out here and do some research. I’ll come grab you for lunch.”
With that, Dean disappears and the door clicks shut behind him, leaving Sam scratching his chest idly and wondering what the hell Dean wasn’t telling him.
As he’s getting out of the shower, Sam suddenly gets a flash of memory - the glow of Christmas lights and the feel of Cas’ hand on his chest - and his dream comes flooding back to him, sharp and clear. He sucks in a breath as he remembers, and wraps a towel around his waist distractedly. Castiel, awkward but badass angel of the Lord, has been watching over his dreams, influencing them even, keeping Sam happy and safe when he knew Dean couldn’t.
Is he doing it for me, though, or is it really, in a roundabout way, just a favour to Dean? Sam stares at his reflection in the bathroom and continues in a thoughtful daze, brushing his teeth mechanically. Cas has always been, somehow, Dean’s; their bond is impossibly deep. Cas’ handprint is branded on Dean’s shoulder, a physical reminder that the angel has literally gone to Hell and back for the man. What is Sam in comparison? The fool who freed Lucifer from the cage. The wayward little brother who trusted a demon over his own flesh and blood.
Why would Cas ever bother with me, if not for Dean? Sam wonders bitterly. He grimaces as he realizes he’s just being whiny and self-pitying, but it’s hard not to feel a little jealous of the connection his brother has with Cas.
Sam wanders out of the bathroom to find fresh clothes, still bemused by his dream - so much so that he’s reaching for the towel around his waist and it’s only the sound of a throat being cleared that makes him freeze. He spins, and finds himself staring slightly slack-jawed at Cas, who’s sitting at a plastic table near the room’s front window. The angel’s hands are folded neatly in his lap, but he gets quickly to his feet as Sam gapes.
“I apologize if I’m intruding,” begins Cas, and Sam swears he sees a hint of amusement twitch across the angel’s lips.
“Uh.” Sam looks down at his bare chest and feels that the towel he’s wearing has suddenly become several inches shorter. Cas takes pity on him, though, and moves to stare out the window with his hands clasped behind his back as Sam rummages for a t-shirt and jeans to pull on.
“Alright, Cas, what’s up?” Sam asks when he’s dressed, and the angel turns to face him.
“I came to see what was upsetting you,” he says simply.
Sam raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m upset?” he asks, crossing his arms a bit defensively, but he’s also genuinely curious as to how Cas managed to divine his emotions from wherever-the-hell-he-was, and what made him believe it was serious enough to appear in the brothers’ dingy Oklahoma motel room.
Cas steps forward, undeterred by Sam’s closed-off stance, and tilts his head in his trademark way which serves to make Sam feel disconcertingly like a frightened animal being approached with caution.
“Sam,” he speaks hesitantly but in earnest, “I know you are upset. I can feel it, just as I can feel a variety of strong emotions from you.”
Sam opens his mouth to interject but Cas is right there, placing a gentle hand on his arm, so he shuts it again and listens. “I care for you, Sam. I have gotten to know and understand you and your brother during my time on Earth. I have touched your soul, on more than one occasion, and such an experience creates a powerful bond.” Cas pauses, looks down, purses his lips. Sam wonders if he’s nervous but thinks that’s impossible, Cas is always stoic and sure, unless he’s simply confused, which he certainly isn’t right now.
“You’re talking about what you said in my dream?” Sam asks. Starkly blue eyes obscured by feathery lashes flick up to Sam’s own. “About looking out for me there because Dean couldn’t?”
“Yes.”
“Cas, I -” Sam sighs, a rumbling sigh from deep in his chest and when Cas tenses, he realizes he’s about to push him away again and the last thing he wants to do now, after learning this, is push Cas away. “ - I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. Thank you, of course - I didn’t know you’ve been watching out for me like this. I didn’t know, and I’m sorry -”
“You apologize because you don’t think helping you, caring for you, is a valuable use of my time,” Cas interjects, looking disappointed and a bit hurt. Sam’s silent, but offers an uncomfortable grimace.
“I mean, Cas, I’m no Dean…” Sam says finally, spreading his palms in a helpless gesture, which, more than anything else he’s done so far, gets a rise out of Cas. The angel growls and turns from Sam, pacing away from him in exasperation but quickly reaching the far end of the tiny motel room and whirling to stalk right back to where he started. Sam imagines a caged tiger, an image that actually starts to worry him when he sees Cas’ eyes flash with restrained anger and feels himself suddenly shoved backwards, hard.
“You doubt yourself - far too much!” Cas hisses. He’s gripping the lapels of Sam’s coat now, and although Sam stands almost a full head taller, he suddenly feels very small. “Sam, I have felt your soul. You are similar to Dean in many ways, yes, but you are also entirely different. I am…I feel drawn to your emotions - your strong empathy and concern…your bravery and intelligence. I know the power of all of these, now, thanks to you, Sam. So of course I am going to watch out for you. As long as I can help you, I will not hesitate to do so.”
There’s a long silence, and neither of them moves. Sam is thunderstruck. Finally Cas looks away, releases Sam and steps back.
“Cas…” Sam starts, then stops abruptly. He’s looking at the ground but his mind is racing, flashing through moments of the past week, since he’d woken up at Bobby’s with his soul back. He remembers all his recent dreams, from Christmas on back, to one of his first hunts alone with Dean. He remembers Dean’s reassurance, on his first day back being whole again, that Cas was still alive, and the relief that had washed through him. He remembers Cas being the one to naively let slip about his year spent alive and soulless, how hard he’d worked to hide his horror. Then he remembers greeting Cas that day, how the angel had stepped in - as happy as he’d ever remembered seeing him - for a hug. And Sam had just…sat down.
Look, I would hug you, but…
It would be awkward.
Cas is good at hiding his emotions, they all are. But he hadn’t been able to hide the crestfallen expression Sam had pretended, at the time, not to see.
Shit, Sam thinks, as the full force of realization hits him. Oh shit. Goddamnit, I’m an idiot…
“Cas,” he says again, hoarsely. He doesn’t need to say anymore. Cas is watching him, silently; Sam crosses the distance between them in two long strides, opens his arms wide, and envelops Cas in a rough bear hug. Cas lets out a muffled sound as he’s pressed against Sam’s chest, but he raises his arms to return the hug and Sam just holds him there, in gratitude or apology, or both, he doesn’t know or care.
“Sorry that took so long,” Sam finally mutters quietly.
Cas smiles.