Fic: Touch of Grace (2/2)
See part one for disclaimer and summary.
**********************
Sam didn’t make it far from the motel. A run-down park nearby offered reprieve in the form of a rickety bench. Sam stumbled over to it and all but collapsed onto the ancient wood. He gasped for breath. That’s when he realized he was crying. The sky, the wind, the grass, the smells, the textures, the breeze combing through his hair, the blessed way his insides stayed inside. It was all so overwhelming. He hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of beauty. Beauty in every blade of grass.
He shook and sobbed on the bench like a mental case for a good ten minutes before he was cried out. Then he started to get himself under control. He ended up staring down at his hands. One held a card key. The other a cell phone. What a meager showing for something as remarkable as busting out of Lucifer’s cage.
His next thought was to call Bobby. It was almost second nature, a knee-jerk response buried even deeper than his scar tissue from Hell. He knew Dean was alive - now he needed to find out if Bobby was.
And maybe Bobby would be able to tell him what the hell was wrong with Dean.
Sam sniffled and opened the phone. His thumb moved more out of ancient muscle memory than anything. He accessed the address book. Sam discovered he had Castiel’s phone. Bobby was one of only two names in the contacts. The other name was Dean. His name wasn’t even there. Sam swallowed the taste of bile. How alienated had he become in this world? What if it was a break that couldn’t heal?
Before he could reconsider, Sam scrolled to ‘Bobby’ and hit send.
It was barely two rings before Bobby picked up. Sam couldn’t even get a word in before the older hunter was talking, and he wasn’t happy.
“Damnit all to hell, Castiel! It’s about fucking time. I’ve been trying to reach you and Dean for over a week! Why in the hell haven’t you two taken my calls? What hare-brained scheme have you and Dean been up to? You two all right?”
Sam’s tongue stuck in his throat. Bobby asked about what Dean and Castiel had been up to lately… Dean and Castiel, with no mention of Sam. Apparently it was natural now to assume Dean and Castiel were together, wherever they were… and Sam? Where was he? Where was his place? Clearly it wasn’t with Dean anymore… Bobby had stopped expecting him to be there.
And sure, all that was the other Sam, but it felt like Sam had nothing left to him but the place where that soulless Xerox left off.
“Castiel?” Bobby growled. “I swear, you hang up on me and I’ll -”
“Uhh…. Bobby?”
Bobby’s end went dead quiet a second. “Sam.” That sounded coldly distant and measured.
Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Bobby, it’s me.”
“Yeeeah.”
“No, I mean me. Really me.”
“Right, course it is.” Again, that unbearable silence. “What are you doing with Castiel’s phone? Is he all right?”
God, Bobby said that like he was talking to a hostage-taker.
“Jesus, Bobby… it’s me! Can’t you tell just from my voice? That was all Dean needed…” Sam felt like he was on the cusp of a panic-attack. Bobby Singer was treating him like a dangerous criminal let out of prison too soon. The man who’d been like a father to him and Dean was giving him a wall. Before he could stop it, he was crying again. He curled a hand into his hair and pulled at a fistful in frustration.
After a small eternity, Bobby’s voice issued from the phone tentatively, “…Sam?”
“Yes! Yes, Bobby.” Sam clutched the phone tightly. Without it connecting him to Bobby, he might just explode.
“I’d like to believe you… I would…”
“It was Castiel. Castiel saved me. He went into the cage and he pulled me out of Hell,” Sam blurted desperately.
There was a very tense hesitation through the phone. “Let me talk to Dean or Castiel.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. Bobby didn’t believe him. He wanted to hear it from someone he trusted.
“Bobby…”
“Just hand the phone to one of the boys.”
Sam felt disgustingly close to throwing up. Once upon a time, ‘the boys’ meant the Winchesters, Dean and Sam.
“I… I can’t. Castiel’s… I don’t know. He’s sick or hurt or something. He’s in a coma.”
“Crap,” Bobby muttered. “How’s Dean doing?”
That made a chill crawl up Sam’s spine. “Why would you ask how Dean’s doing when I tell you Castiel’s in a coma?”
Suspicion filled the empty seconds. “Nice try, Sam.” Bobby’s bitterness ebbed just a little. “I hope you’re him, kid… I really do. I’d give anything to have the real you back again. I know it would mean the world to Dean. But if you’re not you, I’m not about to walk into your trap. Now either put on Dean or Castiel and let me talk to them, or I’m hanging up.” Bobby’s anger grew fiercer with a heavy helping of hurt. “I can’t take this. I know you couldn’t give a rat’s ass, but you’re killing me with this.” Sam could hear Bobby’s voice cracking. “And if it’s really you… god, if it is you… shit, if it’s true, next time you two are here I’m letting all the air out of the Impala’s tires and never letting either of you idjits out of my sight again, but this… just don’t.” Bobby stopped to take a breath. “Now let me talk to Dean or Castiel, damnit.”
“Bobby…” Sam croaked.
Sam’s heart sank at the sound of the line disconnecting.
For a second, Sam could only stare at the phone is shock and disbelief.
Then he got up, braced a hand on the back of the bench, and threw up in the grass.
**********************
It took an hour wandering around the ill-tended park, but Sam finally came to grips with his phone call with Bobby. After the hurt faded, it made Sam think. It made him think beyond Hell and himself and really take into consideration the broken family he’d left behind when he threw himself into the cage.
Until that moment, he’d thought only about what he’d been through, but it hadn’t been a walk in the park for anyone. They all went through their own kind of hell. Sam knew that all too well… when it was Dean in the pit, Sam was the one left behind. And he’d barely lived through it. Without the help of a demon, he probably wouldn’t have.
It hurt that Bobby had thrown his attempt at reaching out back in his face, but he couldn’t blame Bobby. After some time to think, Sam got that. Robo-Sam must have done plenty to make Bobby react the way he had, because Bobby wouldn’t turn on one of the Winchester boys without damn good reason.
Sam finally felt accountable, in some small measure, for everything the other Sam Winchester had done in his name.
Sam was going to make things right with everyone. Maybe not all the random strangers that had crossed his double’s path, but definitely the people that were important. And on top of that list was Bobby Singer. But for that, Sam would need Dean to call the grizzled hunter and vouch for his newly re-soulled brother.
Resolute, Sam turned and started back toward the motel. Time to start fixing his life.
Strangely enough, having a mission pushed so much of it all - Hell and the ages of torture and the anger - into a corner. There was a new cage, in Sam’s mind, where all that shit was shoved. It wouldn’t go away, Sam knew that (he only had to look at his brother, the model of the escapee from Hell, to know that), but he couldn’t let it stop him. He had a lot of fences to mend, because while it might not have been his soul that betrayed his loved ones, it had been his face, his voice, his hands. He had to take responsibility for that, because no one else could.
He felt a little bit like his old self, driven and focused, when he swiped the key card and opened the motel room door. He walked into the room and drew up short. Some of his impetus faltered at the sight before him. Dean was in bed with Castiel, substituting the angel for a pillow again.
Sam frowned. Bobby had all but confirmed that there was something going on with his brother and the angel, but he wouldn’t say what. The sight turned something inside Sam sideways… not exactly wrong, but not quite right either.
He stood there and stared while his mind worked feverishly.
Sam had turned to a demon when he’d been in Dean’s place, so it wasn’t out of the question that Dean would turn to an angel. But Sam couldn’t help but think of exactly how he’d turned to Ruby. He just couldn’t see his brother like that with Castiel. He couldn’t see Castiel taking his weird fascination with Dean that far.
But there was something.
But then, maybe he was making too much out of this. Maybe it was nothing more than Dean finding comfort in the only person who’d ever managed to get past his guard that didn’t have the family card to play.
And maybe he was climbing into bed with Castiel because Dean, in his self-sacrificing way, wanted to give Sam a bed to himself. That was just the kind of thing Dean would do.
Figuring he could at least do this much, Sam put down the key card and cell phone and went to the bed where his brother and the angel were lying. He studied the knot of their limbs for a moment before he reached down and started to carefully untangle his brother. He’d haul him up (robo-Sam had certainly been working out with his meatsuit… Sam could probably carry Dean easy), put him in the free bed, and maybe the worm in his gut would stop twisting. Dean would no doubt appreciate having his own bed.
Or not. As Sam started to pry Dean away from Castiel, Dean began to struggle. He didn’t wake up, but he fought being taken from Castiel’s side all the same. “No… no…” Dean mumbled. He strained against Sam’s hands, trying to go back to Cas.
Sam let go and Dean reclaimed his previous spot, half-draped over Castiel. There was the first sign of movement from Castiel when the angel, in his coma/sleep, turned his head toward Dean when the hunter curled back up against him.
So yeah, definitely something up. Sam would get answers out of Dean, even if it took all the powers of persuasion in his arsenal.
But for now, Dean looked comfortable. Sam hated it a little, but he looked like he was where he belonged. When that happened and how was a complete mystery, but Sam had time. He didn’t intend for Dean to ditch him for a long, long time.
In the meantime, there was a shower with Sam’s name on it. It felt like a lifetime since he’d felt water cascade over his body.
He planned to take his shower cold.
**********************
Sam came out of the bathroom after what was easily the longest shower in his life and found Dean sitting on the empty bed. When Sam came into the room, he looked up. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Sam returned. Then he stopped and considered Dean. He didn’t look quite as ashen as he had been looking lately. “You look better.”
A smile toyed with the corners of Dean’s mouth. “Yeah… Cas is feeling better.”
They hadn’t been talking about Castiel, except apparently now they were. Sam looked to the other bed, where Castiel was still unconscious. “He woke up?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he…?”
Dean’s smile slipped and he glanced away awkwardly. “I just know.”
Sam scowled. “Dean… what is going on with you two?”
“Sam… it’s not…” Dean frowned. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
Dean grinned.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Dude, just… you have no idea how great it is to hear you say that and know you mean it.”
“Wow. That other me must have been a colossal douchebag.”
“Complete and total assbutt.”
Sam snorted. Then he eyed Dean. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Yeah, I am.” Dean stood and made his way toward Sam. He looked kind of nervous. “Sam, there’s something… me and Cas… let’s just say some things happened while you were gone.”
Sam knew his brother’s body language, and it was screaming right now that it, whatever it was involving him and Castiel, qualified as a chick-flick moment. Which Dean was doing his damnedest to avoid.
Sam’s eyebrows rose as an outlandish yet somehow not thought occurred to him. “Are you and him together?”
Dean cocked his head in a freakishly Castiel-like gesture of question.
“You know, like… gay?” Sam asked awkwardly, and he sounded like he was all of twelve when he finally spit it out.
Apparently Dean had to have clarification of Sam’s definition of ‘together’. That meant something, Sam knew it must.
“No,” Dean answered. But it was that he answered so calmly. The old Dean would have had a shit-fit at the mere suggestion that he was having sex with another guy. The fact that Dean denied it with as much indignation as he might have denied reading Soldier of Fortune was so utterly unlike Dean.
“Then what?” Sam pressed.
Dean turned to look back toward Castiel. When he turned to his brother again, his expression was downright earnest. “Here’s the deal… Cas is going to be around a lot more from now on.”
“He is.”
“Yeah… is that going to be a problem?”
Part of Sam wanted their old dynamic back, the two of them against the dark. Part of Sam wanted Dean all to himself. But he reined in that initial reaction and looked toward where the angel lay. Fact of the matter was, Castiel had been making a place for himself in the Winchester world for years now. Not to mention this was the angel that had saved both Winchesters from Hell. For that alone, Sam figured he owed Castiel everything and then some. Sharing Dean with him was a small concession… small, and yet fucking huge at the same time.
The hope in Dean’s face sealed Sam’s final answer. “No, it’s fine, Cas is cool.” Besides, if Castiel was around, that would make discovering the truth that much easier. Dean’s defenses had a way of cracking when the angel was around.
Genuine relief flooded Dean’s eyes. “Good… that’s… thanks, Sam. That means a lot.”
And Sam could tell that it did.
Standing there watching his bother loosen up, Sam noticed a small hint of lightness to Dean’s presence that had never been there before. Like gravity wasn’t all that heavy on his shoulders.
“And are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely… someday.”
Sam groaned.
“I just… we just got you back, Sam. I don’t want you… I want you to look at me like you used to. Like I’m just your big brother.”
“And you think whatever it is you’re not telling me would make me look at you differently?”
“Bobby does.” Dean looked dejected at that.
And suddenly, Sam was behind Dean one-hundred percent. All it took was that look of rejection, even in its smallest measure, and Sam was ready to throw all his support in Dean’s corner. That was what brothers did.
“But you’re cool with… whatever it is?” Sam asked.
Dean fought a smile. “Yeah… I’m good.”
“Then so am I.” Dean had done so damn much for Sam his entire life… the least he could afford Dean, until he had more information, was faith.
Dean’s grateful smile was so sincere. Bizarrely enough, the look on his face made Sam think of light.
And just like that, the hurdles in the way of rebuilding his life didn’t seem so high.
**********************
Sam woke in the middle of the night to Dean’s voice. It was pitched low and warm, and it wasn’t directed at him. He opened his eyes and saw, by the light of the nightstand, Dean sitting at the edge of Castiel’s bed. It was god-awful-o’clock, but Dean looked pretty damn pleased.
“I know you’re awake,” Dean said softly, a smirk on his lips.
An amused hum came from the bed, and Sam’s eyes shifted to Castiel. The angel slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. For a second, he looked like a mussed ten-year-old rousted rudely out of dreams for school. Dean’s presence clicked and Castiel’s intent expression softened. “Dean…”
“About time. I’ve felt you coming around for over an hour. What took you so long?” Before Castiel could answer, Dean added in a serious tone, “You scared me.”
“I apologize. That wasn’t my intention. I was very injured.”
“I know.”
“Yes, you do.” Castiel moved. He lifted his arm and placed his hand on Dean’s chest. Dean brought up his own hand and trapped Castiel’s against him. They sat quietly a moment, neither saying a word, but Sam would never presume to suggest they weren’t having a whole conversation.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean said.
“If you and your brother would stay out of Hell, I would be happy to desist.”
Dean chuckled. He placed his free hand on Castiel’s chest and let it stay there. As Dean had done, Castiel covered Dean’s hand with his own, holding palm to sternum. They both seemed to draw from the touch, Castiel’s hand on Dean’s chest and Dean’s hand on Castiel’s, like a circuit finally closed. Sam imagined he could hear the electricity humming between them.
“Sam?” Castiel asked.
“He’s here. He’s fine. You did it. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that, Cas.”
“You never need to.” Castiel paused deliberately. “Does he know?”
“Nah… not yet.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I will… but later. I just… I want to enjoy this first. Sam’s back, you’re back. I’m not in a position very often where I have everything I want… let me wallow in it a little.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you are welcome to wallow until the second coming.”
Dean chuckled again. Another charged moment settled between them.
“So… um, now what? I mean, we got Sam back. Mission accomplished. Does that mean you’re going home?”
Sam didn’t know if Castiel could hear the brink of anguish in Dean’s voice, but Sam certainly did. He knew his brother’s tones too well. Seeing how close Dean and Castiel had gotten while he was gone, though, Sam would bet money that Castiel did hear it.
Sam found himself holding his breath.
“Home, for me, has come to encompass a very different definition than what it once did.” As Castiel spoke, the fingers he had splayed against Dean’s chest curled, fisting Dean’s shirt in the process. “I want to be somewhere I belong.”
“You are, Cas.”
Sam could not begrudge them. Not when their stolen moment was so heartfelt. Not when he could tell from Dean’s voice that Dean needed this.
“Will Sam be amenable to my increased presence?” Castiel asked.
“Yeah, I talked to him. He said he was fine with you hanging around. And he’s probably listening right now, and since he hasn’t squawked, you’re probably good.”
That startled a chuckle out of Sam. “Well, it’s hard to sleep with you two yakking away.”
“Hello, Sam.”
“Hey, Castiel… you have the mother of all thank yous coming your way, but do you think it can wait until morning? And on the topic, could you two go to bed? Trying to get some shut-eye over here.”
Castiel huffed… a noise that Sam had come to associate with a laugh in the angel.
Dean snickered. “See? Told you. Sam’s fine with it.”
“Yes, I see that.”
The sense of gentleness and play between them was almost too much.
“Come on, guys,” Sam pleaded, “we’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow.”
“We do?” Dean asked, looking in Sam’s direction with a puzzled expression. “Where are we going?”
“Bobby’s.”
“Bobby’s?” Dean frowned.
“Sam is right,” Castiel concurred, “Bobby should be included in this reunion. He is one of the family, is he not?”
“Of course he is,” Dean answered off-handedly, but what Sam heard was Castiel’s words, echoing in his thoughts. The choice of ‘the family’ instead of ‘your family’ felt significant. Like there was a family all right, but to catch up with the times Sam might have to revise his math on the matter.
Since John Winchester died, the family had been a measly three. It shouldn’t be too hard to add just one more.
“Morning comes early,” Sam said, “so save the Lifetime Network moments for later.”
It was dark, the room lit only by the nightstand lamp, but Sam got the feeling of brightness from both of them in the other bed. Dean smirked. “Bitch.”
“Jerk… you need me to scoot over, Dean?”
Dean looked down at Castiel in the other bed. “Nah, I’m good.”
Sam tried not to smile.
While Dean turned off the light, Castiel moved over in the bed to make room for Dean.
Sam rolled over and snuggled down in his pillow. “Good night, Castiel.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Dean.”
“Good night, John Boy.”
Sam snorted.
Then Castiel said in all seriousness, “Good night, Dean.”
Dean sighed in surrender. “Night, Cas.”
Sam smiled into his pillow. Yeah, they could totally make this work. It was weird, sure, but that was synonymous with Winchester. If this odd arrangement, whatever it ended up being, made Dean happy… well, Sam could go along with just about anything to finally give Dean what he deserved. And he might just find peace in the process, too. Stranger things had happened.
For the first time in centuries, Sam felt hope.
END
**********************
Sam didn’t make it far from the motel. A run-down park nearby offered reprieve in the form of a rickety bench. Sam stumbled over to it and all but collapsed onto the ancient wood. He gasped for breath. That’s when he realized he was crying. The sky, the wind, the grass, the smells, the textures, the breeze combing through his hair, the blessed way his insides stayed inside. It was all so overwhelming. He hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of beauty. Beauty in every blade of grass.
He shook and sobbed on the bench like a mental case for a good ten minutes before he was cried out. Then he started to get himself under control. He ended up staring down at his hands. One held a card key. The other a cell phone. What a meager showing for something as remarkable as busting out of Lucifer’s cage.
His next thought was to call Bobby. It was almost second nature, a knee-jerk response buried even deeper than his scar tissue from Hell. He knew Dean was alive - now he needed to find out if Bobby was.
And maybe Bobby would be able to tell him what the hell was wrong with Dean.
Sam sniffled and opened the phone. His thumb moved more out of ancient muscle memory than anything. He accessed the address book. Sam discovered he had Castiel’s phone. Bobby was one of only two names in the contacts. The other name was Dean. His name wasn’t even there. Sam swallowed the taste of bile. How alienated had he become in this world? What if it was a break that couldn’t heal?
Before he could reconsider, Sam scrolled to ‘Bobby’ and hit send.
It was barely two rings before Bobby picked up. Sam couldn’t even get a word in before the older hunter was talking, and he wasn’t happy.
“Damnit all to hell, Castiel! It’s about fucking time. I’ve been trying to reach you and Dean for over a week! Why in the hell haven’t you two taken my calls? What hare-brained scheme have you and Dean been up to? You two all right?”
Sam’s tongue stuck in his throat. Bobby asked about what Dean and Castiel had been up to lately… Dean and Castiel, with no mention of Sam. Apparently it was natural now to assume Dean and Castiel were together, wherever they were… and Sam? Where was he? Where was his place? Clearly it wasn’t with Dean anymore… Bobby had stopped expecting him to be there.
And sure, all that was the other Sam, but it felt like Sam had nothing left to him but the place where that soulless Xerox left off.
“Castiel?” Bobby growled. “I swear, you hang up on me and I’ll -”
“Uhh…. Bobby?”
Bobby’s end went dead quiet a second. “Sam.” That sounded coldly distant and measured.
Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Bobby, it’s me.”
“Yeeeah.”
“No, I mean me. Really me.”
“Right, course it is.” Again, that unbearable silence. “What are you doing with Castiel’s phone? Is he all right?”
God, Bobby said that like he was talking to a hostage-taker.
“Jesus, Bobby… it’s me! Can’t you tell just from my voice? That was all Dean needed…” Sam felt like he was on the cusp of a panic-attack. Bobby Singer was treating him like a dangerous criminal let out of prison too soon. The man who’d been like a father to him and Dean was giving him a wall. Before he could stop it, he was crying again. He curled a hand into his hair and pulled at a fistful in frustration.
After a small eternity, Bobby’s voice issued from the phone tentatively, “…Sam?”
“Yes! Yes, Bobby.” Sam clutched the phone tightly. Without it connecting him to Bobby, he might just explode.
“I’d like to believe you… I would…”
“It was Castiel. Castiel saved me. He went into the cage and he pulled me out of Hell,” Sam blurted desperately.
There was a very tense hesitation through the phone. “Let me talk to Dean or Castiel.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. Bobby didn’t believe him. He wanted to hear it from someone he trusted.
“Bobby…”
“Just hand the phone to one of the boys.”
Sam felt disgustingly close to throwing up. Once upon a time, ‘the boys’ meant the Winchesters, Dean and Sam.
“I… I can’t. Castiel’s… I don’t know. He’s sick or hurt or something. He’s in a coma.”
“Crap,” Bobby muttered. “How’s Dean doing?”
That made a chill crawl up Sam’s spine. “Why would you ask how Dean’s doing when I tell you Castiel’s in a coma?”
Suspicion filled the empty seconds. “Nice try, Sam.” Bobby’s bitterness ebbed just a little. “I hope you’re him, kid… I really do. I’d give anything to have the real you back again. I know it would mean the world to Dean. But if you’re not you, I’m not about to walk into your trap. Now either put on Dean or Castiel and let me talk to them, or I’m hanging up.” Bobby’s anger grew fiercer with a heavy helping of hurt. “I can’t take this. I know you couldn’t give a rat’s ass, but you’re killing me with this.” Sam could hear Bobby’s voice cracking. “And if it’s really you… god, if it is you… shit, if it’s true, next time you two are here I’m letting all the air out of the Impala’s tires and never letting either of you idjits out of my sight again, but this… just don’t.” Bobby stopped to take a breath. “Now let me talk to Dean or Castiel, damnit.”
“Bobby…” Sam croaked.
Sam’s heart sank at the sound of the line disconnecting.
For a second, Sam could only stare at the phone is shock and disbelief.
Then he got up, braced a hand on the back of the bench, and threw up in the grass.
**********************
It took an hour wandering around the ill-tended park, but Sam finally came to grips with his phone call with Bobby. After the hurt faded, it made Sam think. It made him think beyond Hell and himself and really take into consideration the broken family he’d left behind when he threw himself into the cage.
Until that moment, he’d thought only about what he’d been through, but it hadn’t been a walk in the park for anyone. They all went through their own kind of hell. Sam knew that all too well… when it was Dean in the pit, Sam was the one left behind. And he’d barely lived through it. Without the help of a demon, he probably wouldn’t have.
It hurt that Bobby had thrown his attempt at reaching out back in his face, but he couldn’t blame Bobby. After some time to think, Sam got that. Robo-Sam must have done plenty to make Bobby react the way he had, because Bobby wouldn’t turn on one of the Winchester boys without damn good reason.
Sam finally felt accountable, in some small measure, for everything the other Sam Winchester had done in his name.
Sam was going to make things right with everyone. Maybe not all the random strangers that had crossed his double’s path, but definitely the people that were important. And on top of that list was Bobby Singer. But for that, Sam would need Dean to call the grizzled hunter and vouch for his newly re-soulled brother.
Resolute, Sam turned and started back toward the motel. Time to start fixing his life.
Strangely enough, having a mission pushed so much of it all - Hell and the ages of torture and the anger - into a corner. There was a new cage, in Sam’s mind, where all that shit was shoved. It wouldn’t go away, Sam knew that (he only had to look at his brother, the model of the escapee from Hell, to know that), but he couldn’t let it stop him. He had a lot of fences to mend, because while it might not have been his soul that betrayed his loved ones, it had been his face, his voice, his hands. He had to take responsibility for that, because no one else could.
He felt a little bit like his old self, driven and focused, when he swiped the key card and opened the motel room door. He walked into the room and drew up short. Some of his impetus faltered at the sight before him. Dean was in bed with Castiel, substituting the angel for a pillow again.
Sam frowned. Bobby had all but confirmed that there was something going on with his brother and the angel, but he wouldn’t say what. The sight turned something inside Sam sideways… not exactly wrong, but not quite right either.
He stood there and stared while his mind worked feverishly.
Sam had turned to a demon when he’d been in Dean’s place, so it wasn’t out of the question that Dean would turn to an angel. But Sam couldn’t help but think of exactly how he’d turned to Ruby. He just couldn’t see his brother like that with Castiel. He couldn’t see Castiel taking his weird fascination with Dean that far.
But there was something.
But then, maybe he was making too much out of this. Maybe it was nothing more than Dean finding comfort in the only person who’d ever managed to get past his guard that didn’t have the family card to play.
And maybe he was climbing into bed with Castiel because Dean, in his self-sacrificing way, wanted to give Sam a bed to himself. That was just the kind of thing Dean would do.
Figuring he could at least do this much, Sam put down the key card and cell phone and went to the bed where his brother and the angel were lying. He studied the knot of their limbs for a moment before he reached down and started to carefully untangle his brother. He’d haul him up (robo-Sam had certainly been working out with his meatsuit… Sam could probably carry Dean easy), put him in the free bed, and maybe the worm in his gut would stop twisting. Dean would no doubt appreciate having his own bed.
Or not. As Sam started to pry Dean away from Castiel, Dean began to struggle. He didn’t wake up, but he fought being taken from Castiel’s side all the same. “No… no…” Dean mumbled. He strained against Sam’s hands, trying to go back to Cas.
Sam let go and Dean reclaimed his previous spot, half-draped over Castiel. There was the first sign of movement from Castiel when the angel, in his coma/sleep, turned his head toward Dean when the hunter curled back up against him.
So yeah, definitely something up. Sam would get answers out of Dean, even if it took all the powers of persuasion in his arsenal.
But for now, Dean looked comfortable. Sam hated it a little, but he looked like he was where he belonged. When that happened and how was a complete mystery, but Sam had time. He didn’t intend for Dean to ditch him for a long, long time.
In the meantime, there was a shower with Sam’s name on it. It felt like a lifetime since he’d felt water cascade over his body.
He planned to take his shower cold.
**********************
Sam came out of the bathroom after what was easily the longest shower in his life and found Dean sitting on the empty bed. When Sam came into the room, he looked up. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Sam returned. Then he stopped and considered Dean. He didn’t look quite as ashen as he had been looking lately. “You look better.”
A smile toyed with the corners of Dean’s mouth. “Yeah… Cas is feeling better.”
They hadn’t been talking about Castiel, except apparently now they were. Sam looked to the other bed, where Castiel was still unconscious. “He woke up?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he…?”
Dean’s smile slipped and he glanced away awkwardly. “I just know.”
Sam scowled. “Dean… what is going on with you two?”
“Sam… it’s not…” Dean frowned. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
Dean grinned.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Dude, just… you have no idea how great it is to hear you say that and know you mean it.”
“Wow. That other me must have been a colossal douchebag.”
“Complete and total assbutt.”
Sam snorted. Then he eyed Dean. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Yeah, I am.” Dean stood and made his way toward Sam. He looked kind of nervous. “Sam, there’s something… me and Cas… let’s just say some things happened while you were gone.”
Sam knew his brother’s body language, and it was screaming right now that it, whatever it was involving him and Castiel, qualified as a chick-flick moment. Which Dean was doing his damnedest to avoid.
Sam’s eyebrows rose as an outlandish yet somehow not thought occurred to him. “Are you and him together?”
Dean cocked his head in a freakishly Castiel-like gesture of question.
“You know, like… gay?” Sam asked awkwardly, and he sounded like he was all of twelve when he finally spit it out.
Apparently Dean had to have clarification of Sam’s definition of ‘together’. That meant something, Sam knew it must.
“No,” Dean answered. But it was that he answered so calmly. The old Dean would have had a shit-fit at the mere suggestion that he was having sex with another guy. The fact that Dean denied it with as much indignation as he might have denied reading Soldier of Fortune was so utterly unlike Dean.
“Then what?” Sam pressed.
Dean turned to look back toward Castiel. When he turned to his brother again, his expression was downright earnest. “Here’s the deal… Cas is going to be around a lot more from now on.”
“He is.”
“Yeah… is that going to be a problem?”
Part of Sam wanted their old dynamic back, the two of them against the dark. Part of Sam wanted Dean all to himself. But he reined in that initial reaction and looked toward where the angel lay. Fact of the matter was, Castiel had been making a place for himself in the Winchester world for years now. Not to mention this was the angel that had saved both Winchesters from Hell. For that alone, Sam figured he owed Castiel everything and then some. Sharing Dean with him was a small concession… small, and yet fucking huge at the same time.
The hope in Dean’s face sealed Sam’s final answer. “No, it’s fine, Cas is cool.” Besides, if Castiel was around, that would make discovering the truth that much easier. Dean’s defenses had a way of cracking when the angel was around.
Genuine relief flooded Dean’s eyes. “Good… that’s… thanks, Sam. That means a lot.”
And Sam could tell that it did.
Standing there watching his bother loosen up, Sam noticed a small hint of lightness to Dean’s presence that had never been there before. Like gravity wasn’t all that heavy on his shoulders.
“And are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely… someday.”
Sam groaned.
“I just… we just got you back, Sam. I don’t want you… I want you to look at me like you used to. Like I’m just your big brother.”
“And you think whatever it is you’re not telling me would make me look at you differently?”
“Bobby does.” Dean looked dejected at that.
And suddenly, Sam was behind Dean one-hundred percent. All it took was that look of rejection, even in its smallest measure, and Sam was ready to throw all his support in Dean’s corner. That was what brothers did.
“But you’re cool with… whatever it is?” Sam asked.
Dean fought a smile. “Yeah… I’m good.”
“Then so am I.” Dean had done so damn much for Sam his entire life… the least he could afford Dean, until he had more information, was faith.
Dean’s grateful smile was so sincere. Bizarrely enough, the look on his face made Sam think of light.
And just like that, the hurdles in the way of rebuilding his life didn’t seem so high.
**********************
Sam woke in the middle of the night to Dean’s voice. It was pitched low and warm, and it wasn’t directed at him. He opened his eyes and saw, by the light of the nightstand, Dean sitting at the edge of Castiel’s bed. It was god-awful-o’clock, but Dean looked pretty damn pleased.
“I know you’re awake,” Dean said softly, a smirk on his lips.
An amused hum came from the bed, and Sam’s eyes shifted to Castiel. The angel slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. For a second, he looked like a mussed ten-year-old rousted rudely out of dreams for school. Dean’s presence clicked and Castiel’s intent expression softened. “Dean…”
“About time. I’ve felt you coming around for over an hour. What took you so long?” Before Castiel could answer, Dean added in a serious tone, “You scared me.”
“I apologize. That wasn’t my intention. I was very injured.”
“I know.”
“Yes, you do.” Castiel moved. He lifted his arm and placed his hand on Dean’s chest. Dean brought up his own hand and trapped Castiel’s against him. They sat quietly a moment, neither saying a word, but Sam would never presume to suggest they weren’t having a whole conversation.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean said.
“If you and your brother would stay out of Hell, I would be happy to desist.”
Dean chuckled. He placed his free hand on Castiel’s chest and let it stay there. As Dean had done, Castiel covered Dean’s hand with his own, holding palm to sternum. They both seemed to draw from the touch, Castiel’s hand on Dean’s chest and Dean’s hand on Castiel’s, like a circuit finally closed. Sam imagined he could hear the electricity humming between them.
“Sam?” Castiel asked.
“He’s here. He’s fine. You did it. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that, Cas.”
“You never need to.” Castiel paused deliberately. “Does he know?”
“Nah… not yet.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I will… but later. I just… I want to enjoy this first. Sam’s back, you’re back. I’m not in a position very often where I have everything I want… let me wallow in it a little.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you are welcome to wallow until the second coming.”
Dean chuckled again. Another charged moment settled between them.
“So… um, now what? I mean, we got Sam back. Mission accomplished. Does that mean you’re going home?”
Sam didn’t know if Castiel could hear the brink of anguish in Dean’s voice, but Sam certainly did. He knew his brother’s tones too well. Seeing how close Dean and Castiel had gotten while he was gone, though, Sam would bet money that Castiel did hear it.
Sam found himself holding his breath.
“Home, for me, has come to encompass a very different definition than what it once did.” As Castiel spoke, the fingers he had splayed against Dean’s chest curled, fisting Dean’s shirt in the process. “I want to be somewhere I belong.”
“You are, Cas.”
Sam could not begrudge them. Not when their stolen moment was so heartfelt. Not when he could tell from Dean’s voice that Dean needed this.
“Will Sam be amenable to my increased presence?” Castiel asked.
“Yeah, I talked to him. He said he was fine with you hanging around. And he’s probably listening right now, and since he hasn’t squawked, you’re probably good.”
That startled a chuckle out of Sam. “Well, it’s hard to sleep with you two yakking away.”
“Hello, Sam.”
“Hey, Castiel… you have the mother of all thank yous coming your way, but do you think it can wait until morning? And on the topic, could you two go to bed? Trying to get some shut-eye over here.”
Castiel huffed… a noise that Sam had come to associate with a laugh in the angel.
Dean snickered. “See? Told you. Sam’s fine with it.”
“Yes, I see that.”
The sense of gentleness and play between them was almost too much.
“Come on, guys,” Sam pleaded, “we’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow.”
“We do?” Dean asked, looking in Sam’s direction with a puzzled expression. “Where are we going?”
“Bobby’s.”
“Bobby’s?” Dean frowned.
“Sam is right,” Castiel concurred, “Bobby should be included in this reunion. He is one of the family, is he not?”
“Of course he is,” Dean answered off-handedly, but what Sam heard was Castiel’s words, echoing in his thoughts. The choice of ‘the family’ instead of ‘your family’ felt significant. Like there was a family all right, but to catch up with the times Sam might have to revise his math on the matter.
Since John Winchester died, the family had been a measly three. It shouldn’t be too hard to add just one more.
“Morning comes early,” Sam said, “so save the Lifetime Network moments for later.”
It was dark, the room lit only by the nightstand lamp, but Sam got the feeling of brightness from both of them in the other bed. Dean smirked. “Bitch.”
“Jerk… you need me to scoot over, Dean?”
Dean looked down at Castiel in the other bed. “Nah, I’m good.”
Sam tried not to smile.
While Dean turned off the light, Castiel moved over in the bed to make room for Dean.
Sam rolled over and snuggled down in his pillow. “Good night, Castiel.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Dean.”
“Good night, John Boy.”
Sam snorted.
Then Castiel said in all seriousness, “Good night, Dean.”
Dean sighed in surrender. “Night, Cas.”
Sam smiled into his pillow. Yeah, they could totally make this work. It was weird, sure, but that was synonymous with Winchester. If this odd arrangement, whatever it ended up being, made Dean happy… well, Sam could go along with just about anything to finally give Dean what he deserved. And he might just find peace in the process, too. Stranger things had happened.
For the first time in centuries, Sam felt hope.
END