Fic: Life and Love and Why (Castiel/Sam) - Part Two
**
Chapter Two
**
Sam is staring at the beads in the doorway again. There's a breeze that rattles them and allows for unobstructed glimpses to the world outside. Sam has no idea how to interact with that world. His shoulder has healed now, Castiel pulled the stitches and deemed Sam as fit as he'll ever be but it's not like Sam hasn't dealt with gun shot wounds on a dozen different occasions. But now it's one in a long line of reasons why he does not want to walk out that door.
Castiel is by his side. Sam can sense his weight balanced forward, like a dog eager to bolt to freedom. “Sam Winchester...afraid to set foot outside?” Castiel says, with a raised eyebrow and an unhealthy amount of skepticism.
“Castiel the angel...being a pain in the ass?” Sam shoots back at him. “Sounds about right actually.”
Though the whole thing is surprising. Five years is a long time but there are still hints in there of the old Castiel. The one Sam is more familiar with and isn't sure if he misses or not. He probably wouldn't wake to find the old Castiel toking up in the middle of the night at his side but then, he wouldn't have woken up to find the old Castiel at his side at all. There's still that earnestness to him though, that dire sense of loyalty.
He's stayed doggedly at Sam's side since Sam first opened his eyes in a ring of fire. But how much of that is because Castiel might not have anyone else to hang on to?
“You're over-thinking it,” Castiel tells him and his hand on Sam's back presses him forward.
Step by step, Sam manages to get all the way out onto the front porch and there's the world, staring back at him. There's the world, not really giving a damn that Sam is the one looking out from this body for the first time in five years.
“It's...” Sam starts and trails off, unsure how to finish. Bright, is the first thing that comes to mind when actually the day is overcast. There's wind rustling the tops of the trees. There are birds. People are walking back and forth but none look his way, none cross too close to Castiel's cabin.
“Kind of disappointing?” Castiel finishes for him.
Sam nods and Castiel drapes an arm across his shoulders.
“Come on. I'll show you some of our, uh, ramshackle camp.”
Sam's not so sure about that but he only resists the pressure of Castiel's arm for a moment before he's venturing down the steps and onto the soft earth. He closes his eyes for a moment, sure he should feel some kind of awe but he just doesn't. Castiel's description - disappointing - was right. If Sam had ever dared to dream about being free from Lucifer, about finally winning and defeating the devil inside his own head where surely Sam should have held all the upper hands, then he'd have dreamed about bright sunshine on his skin, the warmth of his brother’s eyes. Of so much relief and joy at being free. But he feels none of that.
Castiel keeps them walking around the outskirts of the camp, so that Sam can look in and see the clusters of tents or cabins or people. Castiel knows he couldn't interact with any of it yet and he knows they wouldn't want him to. Even Dean, who Sam can see and who never came by the cabin to say he was back from wherever he went. He's talking with some younger woman, blonde hair, blue eyes. She looks familiar.
“That's Claire,” Castiel answers to his unspoken question with a look of longing settling over his features. He shakes it away quickly enough that Sam thinks he must have imagined it.
“Your vessel's daughter?”
Castiel nods. “I was too late to save Amelia. So I...well, Dean did the saving. Dean saved her and brought her here.”
Sam doesn't really know what to say to that. If he should be offering apologies but for what? They carry on without saying anything and Castiel walks them around the whole perimeter of the camp.
There are the storage rooms, kept under lock and key and guarded because everything they need for survival is in there. Sam jokingly asks if Castiel should really be showing him that sort of thing. Chuck is hanging around here, clipboard in hand and issuing orders. If anything surprises Sam about the new world, it might just be that, but he's glad to see the man in an active healthy role.
“Did he know about me?” Sam asks.
“He knew you said yes. But he never knew why, not that he ever told. Sorry, Sammy, but the angels wanted you painted as the bad guy and that's what they got.”
Sam stops their slow amble forward, turning to look at Castiel with the forest at his back. It's still odd, seeing Castiel looking so at home in his torn clothes and heavy boots and hair hanging down on his forehead. About as far from angelic as he can get in every one of his actions. “But you don't think that?”
“That you're the bad guy? You're about as fucked up as I am.”
Sam lifts his eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
Castiel laughs. “No. But it isn't necessarily a bad thing either.”
**
Castiel keeps poking him in the stomach, driving snorts of irritation and laughter from Sam as Sam bats his hand away one more time. It makes Castiel give a lazy grin.
“God, will you stop smoking that shit in the cabin?”
Castiel stretches his arm over Sam to set the joint down to smolder on the bedside table and his hand falls immediately back to Sam's bare stomach. “You make me want to relax,” Castiel answers. And apparently the sex isn't enough for that because there's always a cigarette or a joint afterward. Sam catches Castiel's hand again with a glare. “You're getting soft. You need to get out of the cabin more,” Castiel tells him.
“I'm agoraphobic, piss off.”
It's Castiel's turn to snort as Sam turns away from the irritating man but Castiel just presses up behind him, arm sliding around Sam's middle. Which has been getting soft in the few weeks that have crawled by. Castiel is here with him the majority of the time and Chuck will come in sometimes. Even Claire has come once to visit and the guarded interaction between her and Castiel had been painful to watch. But no one else, no one that really mattered.
“You can't use that as an excuse to hide from Dean forever.” Castiel seems to read Sam's mind and speaks softly into his ear.
“Does he say anything about me?” Sam asks since he knows that Castiel must go talk to Dean when he's not with Sam.
Castiel tightens his hold on Sam. “Hey, this one is on you. Ask him yourself.”
“Castiel.”
Maybe Dean is reading minds too, his voice suddenly growling across the room and both Sam and Castiel jump. The beads are still settling in the doorway and Dean is standing there in the cabin with hard murder in his gaze. For a moment, Sam legitimately thinks it might be aimed at him for somehow defacing Dean's angel. They're in a pretty compromising position, with Castiel's joint on the table, room smelling thick with the weed, sheets tangled around their naked legs. God, Sam can feel his face heat in a blush which is so incredibly childish. For all they've done, Sam is suddenly incredibly embarrassed to be seen naked in bed with another guy by his older brother. Then he realizes that Castiel is the one earning Dean's anger.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Dean-”
“Get the fuck out of the bed.”
Castiel does, scrambling and nearly tripping over the sheets and he crouches down to get his boxers pulled up his legs and at least give him some illusion of dignity.
“I asked you to keep an eye on him, not turn him into one of your whores.”
Castiel rolls his eyes, snorting in derision as he glances away, and in that second of inattention, Dean's fist collides with his jaw. For a second, Sam forgets Castiel isn't an angel now and thinks Dean has just broken his hand but it's Castiel that goes stumbling back, hitting the wall where he doesn't even hesitate. Castiel's snarl of anger isn't entirely human as he launches himself at Dean and already, Sam gets the feeling this isn't the first time these two have gotten into fistfights and it's a complete toss up over which of them will come out worse.
For a wiry little guy, Castiel packs a lot of power in his fists, a lot of speed in his legs. There is no wasted breath on taunts or insults. All the same, Dean is working on pure fury and he gets a grip on Castiel and slams his head once into the wall with enough force that Castiel's legs immediately buckle under him.
Sam is out of the bed in an instant. Mindless of his nakedness now, he gets a hand on Dean's chest and shoves him back. Another hand on Castiel's keeps him on his feet and pressed against the wall for balance.
“Both of you stop!”
Dean strains against the hand on his chest, eyes still focused on Castiel. “How fucking dare you touch my little brother, Cas!”
“Someone had to,” Castiel bites back, words a little slurred and he blinks hard to bring the room back into focus. “Someone had to act like he existed.”
“By fucking with him? What the hell did you say to him to actually make him think this was a good idea?”
Castiel struggles against Sam's hand, trying to launch himself at Dean again but the knock Dean gave to his head makes him clumsy and weak. “Go to Hell,” he says instead.
“Been there, thanks.”
“Dean! Stop. Both of you,” Sam breaks in before either of them can make another move. He turns to face his brother and for a moment, he's not sure what to say and the room falls silent. Until Castiel shifts against the wall and Sam wishes he'd never been thrust back into the world like this. “Dean, can you just...back off for a minute? Wait outside.” Hurt flashes through Dean's gaze, hard to see but Sam still knows Dean. Better than anyone, way better than the once angel at his back. “I'm naked. It's awkward.”
Sam can see Dean catching himself before he glances down, as if he hadn't actually noticed and then he's giving a short nod and walking out. Sam figures he has about five minutes to deal with Castiel and get dressed before Dean will be back in demanding answers.
“This is not how I wanted to face the outside world,” Sam says as he helps Castiel cross back to the bed and lets him flop down onto it heavily. The quick motion makes Castiel groan but Sam is already reaching to pull on the torn jeans that are someone's. Sam doesn't know. He doesn't know a lot about this world but he guesses he's about to start finding out at a faster pace than Castiel had been teaching him.
“But it will get you out the door so...that's a plus.”
Sam stares for a moment, sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back and turns to walk out of the cabin once he has the boots Castiel had found for him on his feet. He pauses like he always does for a moment at the beads. Through them, he can see Dean leaning against the banister, forearms rested on the railing as he stares out over the camp. Sam takes a deep breath and forces himself to walk out and join him.
Dean flicks a glance to him, not looking half-so confident as he had while attempting to beat the hell out of Castiel. “So... You and Cas. You know he's a hippy with a whole harem out there, right? What line did he feed you?”
“You want details?” Sam says with disbelieving amusement and Dean pulls a face. “This is really what you want to talk about?”
Dean shrugs. “I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to you at all.”
It stings but Sam figures he deserves it and he copies Dean's stance leaning against the balcony railing, staring down to the half-dead bushes that line the ground beneath.
“Cas says there's definitely nothing left of Lucifer in you.”
Sam shakes his head. He doesn't even like hearing the name anymore.
“So I guess that'll have to be enough. I told the rest of the camp to leave you alone but if you run into any trouble, let me know.”
Sam feels like he's being sent off to school on the first day again, Dean overplaying the protective big brother roll but Sam bites back the urge to remind Dean that he can take care of himself. Hasn't he sort of proven that he can't? And there's no way he's turning aside this slowly extending hand.
“How's your shoulder?”
“It's good. Healing fast.” Sam rolls it in demonstration and Dean gives a nod.
“Good. Then you can start pulling your weight around here.” These are Dean's parting words as he pushes off the railing and heads on down the stairs. Sam watches him go and manages to keep the smile off his face until Dean is out of sight. Then he turns and pushes his way back through the beads to find Castiel sitting on the edge of the bed with his head cradled between his hands.
“I think he gave me a concussion,” he says when he realizes that Sam is back.
Sam checks the back of Castiel's head, finding a sizable lump and Castiel hisses when Sam touches it. “Don't be such a baby.” Though he probably does have a concussion. But that glazed over hollow look in his gaze isn't anything new. “Remember what you said to me? That Dean could have left me behind but didn't? The same thing goes for you.”
Castiel nods, wide eyes suddenly shining a bit.
**
**
It's a bit of a novelty to have someone looking after him. Castiel hasn't had that often. He thinks Dean might have tried once, in Dean's own way which was gruff and short and maybe Castiel hadn't been as good then at the language of Dean as he liked to think. He's better now. He can see things like Dean being pissed off really means that Dean cares. Dean giving him a concussion means a lot because other people might have just gotten shot. More than that, Dean left without any orders for Castiel to get away from Sam. It's almost warming.
“I looked after you.” Jimmy's words shape his mouth. He glances to the side but it's late into the night and Sam sleeps on unaware that Castiel is sitting in the bed talking to himself. “Talking to me.”
“Dean says you're a hallucination,” Castiel points out.
“Are we stoned right now?”
“We have a concussion. Same thing.”
Jimmy shrugs and Castiel doesn't bother trying to remind him that Castiel is supposed to be the one in the driver's seat. Honestly, sometimes he wouldn't mind fading back and letting Jimmy take all the control. He just wishes he knew if he were going insane or not. Is this just the memory of Jimmy he's talking to, is Jimmy's soul still trapped here, have they somehow merged into one soul and two minds? It makes Castiel's head hurt but he's not enough of an angel to tell the difference anymore.
“It is kind of nice having someone else worrying about us though,” Jimmy concedes. “Did you know our hands haven't been on a single other person since Sam showed up?”
Castiel's knows. He went to Quinn's cabin before, full of intentions that he never followed through on. Castiel couldn't stop thinking about the guy he was leaving behind.
“I think you might be finding your integrity again.”
Why not? He'd thought both Sam and Dean had lost theirs and Castiel being an honorary Winchester, had gone ahead and done the same. But he was wrong, wasn't he? Castiel gave up long before Sam or Dean did. Maybe they'd been the ones following him.
“You make my head hurt,” Castiel tells Jimmy.
“Head hurts?” Sam mumbles from beside him and Castiel blinks to find Sam giving him a confused sleepy look. “Are you talking to yourself?”
Castiel smiles. “Just my imaginary friend.” Sam frowns and Castiel shakes the confused worry off as he shuffles down to press up against Sam. “I'm fine. I'm... I'm good.” For once, that might actually be true.
Sam isn't in the bed when Castiel wakes up and when Castiel jerks upright to try and look for him, pain stabs along the back of his skull and he sinks back down with a groan. That was a bad move. He cautiously prods at the back of his head, feeling the lump and wincing. Dean doesn't pull his punches just because he maybe likes Castiel a bit. And this had just been a warning, Castiel knows.
“Don't poke at it,” Sam chastises him and Castiel sees him walking in from the front of the cabin.
“You went outside. On your own. Is that breakfast?”
Sam sits on the edge of the bed and hands one of the bowls of what looks like oatmeal over. Not Castiel's favorite, the texture is slimy on his tongue but he'll eat because he's learned that hunger feels worse.
“Chuck brought it, actually,” Sam admits after a moment. He looks so frustrated about it, not being able to go get them some food, that Castiel ignores his meal and sets his hand firmly over Sam's knee. Castiel's not that good at words, not ones that are actually deep. Not a comfort that's actually real. He can recite empty phrases to the girls and he cares about them, sure. But suddenly trying to say anything vaguely similar to Sam makes his throat tighten.
“We'll get there, Sam,” is all he can come out with but since Sam smiles at him, it must be enough. The most important thing is that it's true.
**
Things start to become more clear to Castiel slowly.
They don't really get anywhere because Sam still pauses at the bead curtain that offers a shabby protection from the rest of the world and the dangers of the camp. Castiel encourages him but only half-halfheartedly and even he is a little wary when Sam gets too far from the cabin. He hates leaving Sam alone and he hates it when any of the camp survivors look Sam's way for just a little too long.
Dean takes notice. “I know you guys have got this really disturbing Full House family deal going on in here but you have jobs to do. Sam, you're supposed to be pulling your weight and Cas, weren't you supposed to go on the last supply run?”
“Jenny said she'd go in my place,” Castiel tries to defend himself but he knows it's weak and he can see the growing anger in Dean's eyes.
“Right. Sam. You're with me today.” Sam and Castiel trade surprised looks but Dean's decisions are never swayed. “Probably better that way anyway. The others aren't going to be so nervous if they see me with you. Come on.”
Sam hesitates before he's following Dean through the beads. Castiel watches them go and the tightness in his chest when Sam gets out of his sight is the first thing that tips him off. Dean and Sam look good and natural walking together. They fall into step and both Sam and Castiel should be relieved that this is finally happening. Sam has been here for over a month now and this is the first time Dean has come to the cabin for more than a few quick words. The first time Dean and Sam have walked together in five years.
Castiel really doesn't like Sam getting out of his sight though.
He trails after them through the camp under the guise of checking with a few people he hasn't spoken to much since Sam got back. Even at a distance, he can see the tension radiating out from Sam and he barely listens while Jenny tells him about the supply run Castiel failed to go on three days ago. She's pressing her chest up against his arm, pressing two new packets of cigarettes into his hand. Trying to buy him which Castiel would normally cave to. Cigarettes and someone who wanted him that much for a few hours? But now he can't tear his gaze from Sam and he only nods to her assurances that she got these just for him and maybe a few other useful things as well.
“When did you turn in to such a whore?” The words are muttered from him and Jenny pauses.
“What?”
Castiel shakes his head and bites his tongue hard, hoping it will teach Jimmy to shut up. People already think he's half-insane. “The deal was to keep it in the bedroom,” Castiel whispers to himself as he walks away, making a straight path towards Sam. “Just keep quiet.”
Sam is turning to greet him when Castiel is still a dozen paces away and Dean's look turns to annoyance when he catches sight of Castiel as well. “What, are you two attached by a leash?”
Castiel is just glad to be within proximity of Sam again. He also thinks that Dean might not be too far off.
**
**
Castiel's hand is smoothing over Sam's belly again. Sam puts it down to Castiel having some sort of weird kink because Sam's been developing a bit of a pouch there and Castiel just keeps palming it. It makes Sam a little reluctant to start exercising again.
Sam doesn't know how to describe this thing between them other than weird. He's noticed the way Castiel hardly lets him out of sight and he's definitely noticed the way he doesn't mind as much as he should. Castiel seems like maybe he's more sober than when Sam first woke up inside the fire. The only whiskey bottle is the mostly empty one that's been sitting next to the bed since the first week and Sam hasn't seen much in the way of pills. Castiel smokes like a chimney though and sometimes he lights up a joint in the middle of the night. And he does both of these things outside the cabin, sitting on the steps out front.
Camp life is surprisingly quiet. Sam's not sure what he was expecting when he finally made the first steps past the beads. For Lucifer to mount an attack and claim him back? The angels must have killed him. The skies are quiet, even sunny and clear of gray clouds. No Croats come out of the woods to attack. The survivors here all know each other and their interactions are for the most part, quiet and sociable. They all follow Dean's orders without question. Except Castiel who's too busy following Sam around.
Sam asks Dean about it in the morning, once he's pried Castiel's hands off of him and escaped the cabin despite the fact his feet would really rather just walk right back in. There's something weird going on. With him and maybe with Castiel and all Sam can place it on is Lucifer.
Dean is in the small mess hall. The camp was probably a place for kids once and the mess hall isn't actually anything more than a covered picnic area. It's picnic tables that they eat at and there are no walls but there is a roof and a good wood burning stove. There are hot meals even when the cans of gas run out and the generators stop working and running water for showers will mean a bucket with holes in it. Things that haven't happened yet but gas is a precious commodity. Sam is impressed by just how well Dean runs this camp.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam greets as he slides onto the hard wooden seat opposite Dean.
“Sam,” Dean returns. “Where's your boyfriend?”
“Back in the cabin.”
Dean stares at him for a heartbeat and then huffs a laugh as he focuses back down on his bowl of half-eaten cereal. “Wow. Guess that really is true then, huh?”
“What? I- Dean. What happened to him?”
“To Cas?” Dean shrugs, pushing his spoon through his bowl absently. “You mean was there any defining moment that made him like this? No. We were all on a downhill slide, man. End of the world and all.”
“Is he really just human now?” Sam presses.
Irritation starts to bloom in Dean's eyes. He never did like being pushed and Sam is discovering through their momentary conversations that Dean doesn't tolerate being questioned about any of the people he might consider family. This includes Sam himself, Castiel, even Chuck. Sam had asked after Bobby once and since then, he mostly just keeps his mouth shut. But he needs to know this one thing.
“Christ, I don't know. Why don't you ask him?” Sam just stares at him. They both know he'd have an even harder time getting a straight answer out of Castiel on this. “I don't know,” Dean repeats. “He says he is. But he can still punch like a mack truck. The virus doesn't affect him but he can sense it in other people.”
“That's why you had him keeping an eye on me.”
Dean nods. “He knows things sometimes that we don't. But for all other intents and purposes, he's just a screwed up guy with too many drugs and women. Until you came along.” And Dean is obviously as confused over this point as Sam is. “Why are you asking?”
“Because it's...weird.”
Dean's raises his eyebrows. “Weird.”
Sam knows it's not a good enough explanation but it's really all he's got to place on this feeling he has.
“Do me a favor and do something useful,” Dean says. “Go out to the tarps and haul some of the rainwater in, okay?”
Sam nods, pushing to his feet and following the well worn trail out of the camp to where they have tarps strung up to collect fresh water. It rained the other day so the water traps are full. Castiel has walked him out here a handful of times, a good way to stretch their legs without running into many others. It should be the same way today but Sam should remember that just because things are quiet doesn't mean the danger isn't lurking nearby.
He gets to the traps and collects two large cooler jugs of water, struggling with them a little as he heads back towards camp but he's determined to do this. Dean's right and he hasn't been doing enough around the camp. It's no wonder people still look at him with fear or mistrust or outright anger. Sam should have known to be more alert but his senses are dulled and he doesn't realize there are three guys waiting ahead of him until he's practically on top of them and there are two guns aimed in his direction.
The water jugs crash to the ground and spill into the dirt. Sam darts his hands up and takes a step back. “Guys. We can talk about this.” But Sam has no idea what he's supposed to say. Apologize?
“We've been hearing stories about you, Sam. You started all this?” one of them asks. Sam has no idea what their names are. He doesn't know their stories or who they used to be. “You're the reason my two little girls are dead?”
“I...I'm sorry, I didn't-”
Sam doesn't get the chance to finish because the gun is firing and the bullet impacts with his chest.
**
**
Castiel worries when Sam doesn't come back to the cabin after ten minutes and after fifteen, Castiel starts looking for him. He jogs across the camp, running into Chuck who hasn't seen Sam and then Dean who demands, “Why the fuck can't you two be separated for more than ten minutes?” And Castiel knows why but he doesn't want to tell Dean, especially not while Dean has a gun strapped to his hip which he always does.
“Because half the camp wants to kill him? Just tell me where he is.”
Dean actually starts to look a little worried at the alarm he can see in Castiel. Castiel doesn't get worked up without a good reason. “I sent him to get some water.”
The words are hardly out of Dean's mouth before Castiel is running off in the direction of the water trail. He can see the three men on the trail through the trees, and Sam beyond them, stuck and with his hands raised in surrender. White anger flashes over Castiel's vision as he sees the two guns trained on Sam. Castiel has no weapon of his own and he ducks down as he runs and grasps a large stick. The three men are so focused on Sam that they don't hear Castiel's approach and then a shot is going off through the forest and Castiel cries out in alarm.
All three men turn in surprise and Castiel rears his arm back and whips the stick forward through the air. It strikes hard against the head of the man nearest him and Castiel manages to roll to the ground and grab his fallen gun. A quick crack from the butt of it and the first man falls unconscious.
But Sam is on the ground with his hand against his chest.
“Sam!” Castiel barks but the only sign that Sam is still alive is from how tense he's holding himself.
The second man with the gun - Dobson, Castiel recalls his name - already has it aimed on Castiel now. Castiel swings his up, knowing he won't be fast enough, when a bang rings out behind him. He flinches as a bullet races past his ear and imbeds in Dobson's forehead. The final man drops down to his knees without encouragement and stays there. Colin. People Castiel knows.
“Sammy!” Dean darts by Castiel and Castiel almost shoots him when Dean drops down by Sam's side. His legs are shaking as he pushes to his feet and steps by the unconscious and dead men but he's not giving them a second glance. They aren't a threat anymore. What's more important is that Dean is helping Sam to roll over and Sam is struggling for a breath but there is no blood.
“I'm okay,” Sam gasps as Castiel joins Dean next to him on his knees. Castiel's hands go immediately to Sam's chest but there's no bullet entrance, just a hole in Sam's shirt and Castiel closes his eyes in silent thanks.
“What the hell happened?” Dean demands, glancing around behind him to the three men. The gunshots have drawn attention from the rest of the camp and people are making their way up the trail. A few have guns but they stand down when they realize Dean already has the situation in hand.
“They shot me,” Sam says, in shock and Castiel can't catch Sam's eyes to silence him. He's got his breath back though and he's patting his chest down the same way Castiel had a moment ago. “Right here. I should be... It felt like I was wearing kevlar.” Fear takes hold of Sam. “What the hell happened? Cas?”
Castiel looks away to the where the other survivors are gathering within earshot and shakes his head, words stuck in his throat. Dean knows that Castiel isn't telling them something and Castiel is glad that Dean can still read him well enough to know when pushing is a bad idea. A glance around them and Dean tells Castiel to get Sam back to the cabin. Dean would join them in a few minutes. Then he's checking one last time Sam is fine before getting to his feet and barking out orders at the watchers.
Back in the cabin, Sam is demanding to know what happened. “You know something is going on, Cas, don't lie to me.” Sam back steps out of Castiel's reach when Castiel tries to check the impact site on his chest. It's going to bruise. Mostly, Castiel wants to get his hands on Sam's stomach. “Is it Lucifer? What is he still in here somehow?”
“It's...complicated.”
“Then explain it. Is this why you don't let me out of your sight?”
Castiel purses his lips and the bead curtain rattles as Dean steps in, arms crossed and just as demanding as Sam. “Go on and explain, Cas. You're holding something back.”
So Castiel says it. “Sam's pregnant.”
**
**
Sam sits heavily on the edge of the bed and stares at Castiel. He tries repeatedly to figure out how he's supposed to react but each time, he comes up blank. Somewhere between terrified and finding the proclamation hilarious. Dean seems to be stuck between the same two emotions and finally settles somewhere between them, corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he stares at Castiel.
“What did you take today, Cas?”
Castiel doesn't crack. He stares evenly at the both of them. “Nothing. I know you wouldn't have noticed, Dean,” Castiel says scathingly, “But ask Sam. I cut back.”
Amusement still tries to hang on to Dean but Sam can see it fading, anger ticking in in the way his fists curl at his sides. “You'd better be joking, Cas.”
“Nope. I got drunk and I knocked up your little brother because I'm still an angel.” Castiel spreads his arms wide, an open offering to Dean. “Take a shot if you want.”
Dean almost looks like he's going to but Sam jerks up to his feet and stops Dean with a hand on his arm. “Dean.” Sam is pretty sure he's terrified. The air in the cabin is suddenly stifling and for once, Sam wants out of it. Unlike all the weeks where the world outside has been too big and dangerous and daunting, now Sam wouldn't mind losing himself out there. But one look at the bead curtains and he can't do it. His hand almost falls to his stomach, curved with what he thought was inaction, but Dean looks at him and Sam keeps his hands by his sides. “Just explain, Cas.”
Castiel gives Sam a sympathetic look and Sam knows that if Dean weren't here, Castiel would be touching him. Just like Castiel is always touching him or hovering nearby him. Looking out for him. Sam shifts uncomfortably on his feet when he realizes why Castiel must be behaving as he is. How long has Castiel known and not said anything?
With all eyes on him, Castiel sighs. “Okay.” He closes his eyes as if he's drawing out old information, opening them when he finds it. “God left the building a long while ago. He stopped creating angels.” Dean already looks impatient. “But there were limited numbers of us. Many fell after Lucifer's first rise against Heaven. Many were killed and many more were sent to Raquia, our prison. There had to be some way to...replenish the numbers.”
“Please don't tell me you had an angel breeding mill,” Dean interrupts.
Castiel glares. “Archangels. Archangels are fierce. They're protective and terrifying and commanding. They're mothers.”
Dean snorts laughter. Sam feels sick. “I don't think I see an angel like Raphael as a particularly loving mother,” Dean says.
“I didn't say loving. But...yes. Raphael, Michael. Others you haven't heard of. Lucifer.”
“But Lucifer is gone,” Sam protests.
“Yes,” Castiel assures but it doesn't make Sam feel any better. “But he was in you for nearly five years. That's longer than any angel has taken a vessel before. Certainly longer than any archangel has. Usually they take a vessel for hours. Maybe days at most.”
Sam's heart is pounding. The idea that some attributes of Lucifer have rubbed off on him, that somehow, some of Lucifer is still inside him, affecting him and the things he does. “Spell it out for me, Cas,” he manages on a voice that's almost steady.
“Enough of Lucifer's grace merged with your soul, and enough of my grace has merged with Jimmy's. Neither of us are quite human and sometimes the instincts of an angel are going to drive us.”
Sam has to give in to the urge, closing his eyes and pressing both his hands to his stomach. Castiel gives in as well, moving in close, touching fingers to the back of Sam's neck and his other hand rests atop Sam's. Dean watches them both in silence for a few minutes.
“You're really not joking.”
“No,” Castiel says simply.
“What do we do about it?”
Sam answers before Castiel can, feeling the way the almost still angel tenses and hearing the tone to Dean's voice. Dean isn't asking what to do about it, he's asking how to make it go away. So Sam tells Dean to instead. “You can get out for awhile, Dean.”
Dean is about to argue but something stops him. “Fine. But Sam? We'll work it out, okay?”
Sam nods and watches Dean leave, surprised at the soft tone. “He's not going to start treating me like his sister, is he?” Castiel answers him with a kiss and despite himself and everything Castiel has told him and done, Sam doesn't resist it.
They end up on the bed together and Castiel keeps touching his stomach, hands drawn there over and over like they have been for days. At least it turns out Castiel doesn't have a weight kink. Sam closes his eyes. “So all this- This is all, what, angel mating urges?”
Castiel snorts and chuckles but he doesn't dispute the idea. It leaves Sam wondering what will happen when those urges where off. Does Castiel stop caring and go back to drugs and whoring once this is over? Sam doesn't quite want to think about what 'this' is. He doesn't want to think about residual angel side-effects or angel-human babies or how any of it will work on a biological standpoint. He just wants to not think and for awhile, Castiel lets that happen, staying quiet and even taking his fingers away from Sam's stomach to stroke rhythmically against his throat instead.
“I can sense it in you,” Castiel says and Sam holds his breath for a moment but there's no getting away from this or the strangely accepting tone in Castiel's voice.
“And this doesn't, I don't know, freak you out.”
“No. I mean, yeah. It's not exactly what I was expecting when I fucked you. I was just...” Castiel waves his hand absently and it manages to land on Sam's belly again. “Following old habits.”
“Or you were following old instincts.”
“Or I just liked the look of you,” Castiel shoots back.
“This is way too fucking much to handle,” Sam responds and he goes back to staring up at the ceiling even if he can still feel Castiel watching him.
“God doesn't give us more than we can handle.”
Sam isn't sure if he wants to break down laughing or hit Castiel. Maybe he'll introduce himself to some of Castiel's drug stash but the idea turns his stomach and makes him cold. “Now you sound like an angel. I thought you were done with all that.”
“But don't you think,” Castiel starts with a desperate timbre to his voice and Sam frowns at him. Castiel sees the expression of disbelief on his face and immediately stops. “Nevermind. You should rest.”
“Because I'm sleeping for two now?” Sam laughs, a shocked, empty laugh.
Castiel kisses him until he closes his eyes. “Yes.”
**
**
Castiel watches as Sam falls asleep, face smoothing out, breath deepening. As soon as he's out, Castiel leaves the bed and walks from the cabin. He strikes a match, lights a cigarette, and as expected, Dean is just around the corner waiting for him. Castiel is more surprised when Dean doesn't try to shoot him on the spot. Instead, Dean walks up to him and with a simple nod of his head, Castiel follows his fearless leader out into the trees. It's a familiar path to a shallow fresh water creek where they collect water to boil for cooking or to use for washing.
“So Sam's got some angel spawn in him, huh?”
Castiel shrugs and nods, flicking ash from the cigarette.
“You know what that means, right?”
Castiel knows what he thinks it means personally but he doesn't say anything out loud to Dean, only casting him a skeptical sideways glance.
“We need to find a way to get rid of it.”
Castiel stops with the cigarette held halfway to his lips. “What?”
Dean turns to look back where Castiel has stalled on the narrow trail. “You don't actually think this could turn out good, do you? This is Lucifer we're talking about.”
“No. No, Dean, I think this is me and Sam we're talking about.” Castiel's throat is burning with anger. It's a harsh slap in the face all over again, to realize that this is Dean now. There is no more Dean who will go out of his way to save even demon children, let alone a Dean who would think of keeping an almost angelic one. If Castiel and Sam can really be counted as that.
“Think for a second, Cas,” Dean lectures him like Castiel is still the naive angel from years ago. “How would we even get it out of him? This is dangerous and you know it. It's insane. We have enough to worry about as it is and there is nothing in this camp to deal with a kid.”
“Exactly,” Castiel cuts Dean off, because Dean’s made his point for him. “In the last five years, Dean, how many children have been born here? And you know people in this camp are screwing around. Case in point, me. Plenty of times without protection because lets face it, we don't always have anything. And not a single other person gets pregnant until Sam somehow miraculously survives a possession by Lucifer?”
“And you're saying...?” Dean trails off with a raised eyebrow. Castiel wants to scream at him to show some respect but his next words are never going to help to earn it.
“That it's fate.”
Dean's face goes entirely blank. “Those drugs finally fried your brain.”
Castiel thinks they might have a long time ago but he shakes his head. “Maybe. I'm going to speak with Chuck.”
“I am this close to tossing you out of the camp, Castiel.”
It's been a long time since Dean used his full name and Castiel actually hesitates before he's hardening his resolve and turning back down the trail.
“Keep this to yourself!” Dean yells after him.
**
Castiel finds Chuck sitting on his bed which takes up most of the room in what used to be a side office off the storage rooms. Chuck takes his responsibility here seriously and sometimes Castiel actually thinks he should have followed Chuck's example. While Castiel was busy losing every scrap of respect he might have had, Chuck somehow pushed himself up to becoming one of the most important people in the camp. Castiel knows that if it came down to it, Chuck would probably end up being the heart of the camp if anything were to happen to Dean. A thought that always turns Castiel's stomach despite all the shit that's gone down between them now.
Chuck is scribbling something on his clipboard but he jerks his head up when Castiel walks in and Castiel is surprised to see a hint of the old Chuck in there. The nervous one, the drunk one. The one that was a little scared angels might swoop down over his shoulder any second.
“Hey, Cas,” Chuck greets.
Castiel returns it and then takes the offer of the whiskey bottle Chuck hands out to him. He's cutting back, not stopping entirely. Now is definitely a good time for a drink and Castiel takes a deep swig off the bottle.
“What can I do for you?” Chuck asks.
Castiel sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you think God still has a plan?”
Chuck makes a small strangled noise. “Not this again. I thought you were past this.”
Castiel thought he was too but there in his chest is suddenly that spark of hope that's kept him going this long. The never ending belief that God has a reason, a plan. There is something better in this life, there is a purpose. He tries to stamp it out because it's foolish and he knows it. He's as far from being an angel as he can possibly get without ripping his grace out but he's still an angel and some beliefs just can't be shaken. They're in the core of him and even Jimmy agrees.
“Life, any life, is a miracle,” Jimmy says and Chuck frowns so Castiel explains. “I got Sam pregnant.”
And Chuck doesn't seem as surprised as he should, glancing down to the papers on his clip board. What Castiel had at first assumed to be a new supply list, is something else entirely. There is line after line, paragraph after paragraph. Chuck sees him suddenly staring at it and clears his throat before he starts.
“Dean would kill the child before it ever got the chance to breathe. So Castiel, Sam and...Chuck, snuck away from the camp after nightfall.”
“Chuck,” Castiel starts breathlessly. The bottle of whiskey is forgotten in his hand.
“It's the last vision I ever got,” Chuck explains. “I was honestly really hoping it wouldn't happen. It's weird for one and I like it here. I mean, I really like it here. I like what I do, I'm good at it for once in my life.”
“But we have to go.”
Chuck sighs. “But we have to go.”
“Get packed,” Castiel orders, words and movements quick as he gets to his feet. He leaves the whiskey on the floor. “Sam and I will come get you when the rest of the camp is asleep.”
**
part one // part three