vail_kagami
in
ohsam
Hold On
Title: Hold On
Author: vail_kagami
Genre: gen
Characters: Castiel, Sam, Dean
Rating: PG
Word count: 1569
Spoilers: Up to and including 6.11.
Summary: For once, Castiel visits the Winchesters without pressing need.
Note: Witten for this prompt at the sassy_otp commentfic meme.
The room was different. It was the first thing Castiel noticed when he arrived.
Being a motel room he had not previously entered, it was only natural that it wasn’t like any other room he’d seen before, yet all motel rooms were basically the same. The same basic interior, the same air of haste, and lately, the same sense of emptiness that accompanied Dean and Sam anywhere they went. Anywhere Sam went, because his presence filled nothing.
Castiel had not noticed it before, not in a way he could put into words. He noticed it now when he appeared in another motel room that was like all the others yet wasn’t and it felt more like the rooms the brothers had stayed in when they had been fighting Lilith, and Lucifer.
It wasn’t the same, though. Their presence had another quality to it, one Castiel had not experienced before. The emotions the angel identified as Dean before he even located the older brother were familiar, but much more intense than they had been ever before, for the first time not covered by anything else.
All this Castiel noticed in an instant, before even the sound of his wings had faded. He looked around and noticed that the room was of higher quality than the motels his human friends usually chose. There was no rot under the wallpapers, the shower did not drip, and the comfortable warmth indicated a properly functioning heater.
Dean was sitting at the small table, Sam’s laptop in front of him. He stared at Castiel with shock, suspicion and something that bordered on hostility. The angel could not tell with certainty what was causing it, and Dean’s quiet words were even more puzzling.
“If you wake him up,” he near-whispered, “I’ll kill you.”
Castiel, who had opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and turned around to find Sam on one of the large and unusually comfortable looking beds. His eyes were closed and he didn’t move.
“What happened to him?” the angel asked.
“Keep your voice down,” Dean hissed. “He’s sleeping. Thought that was obvious.”
It wasn’t, not anymore. “Sam doesn’t sleep.”
“He does now.”
Castiel looked at the human, flat on his back, an open book trapped between his palm and his stomach, and stepped closer in fascination. He sensed Dean’s tension, as if the other man were ready to stop him should he get too close, but he didn’t interfere even when Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed.
“It is true, then,” the angel muttered. “His soul has been returned.”
“You knew about this?” Dean was still speaking quietly, but Castiel knew it was unnecessary. Sam’s sleep was too deep to be easily disturbed.
“It’s why I came. I had not thought it possible.” The dread that filled him lifted a little. Sam appeared to be simply sleeping. Castiel had feared to find him catatonic or irreparably insane. “I do not understand this,” he admitted. “Is he… okay?” The words were inadequate to convey his worry, but they would have to do.
Dean left his place at the table to stand beside Castiel, hovering over his brother with a protectiveness that seemed to fill the entire room. He ran a hand over his face. “Kind of. Yes. For the moment. He’s okay.”
Castiel looked at him sharply. “What does that mean?” he inquired, before looking back at Sam, unwilling to take his eyes off the younger brother longer than absolutely necessary. It felt like his friend had only now returned from the dead.
In a way that was exactly the case.
“Death… Death pulled him out.”
It actually made sense, though it was unexpected. Death would have the power to do what Castiel had not been able to even attempt. He decided not ask what price Death had demanded in return - there were more important things at the moment. “And?”
“And he put up a wall in his mind. You know, some kind of barrier. It won’t… It’s keeping out the memories of hell. He doesn’t remember what his body did without him either, not really. Basically, that there is Sam just after jumping into the cage, but before he hit the ground.”
Castiel didn’t actively acknowledge Dean’s words, nor his sharp intake of breath when he reached out and gently brushed his fingers against Sam’s forehead. The connection the contact brought was immediate and strong. He could feel Sam in a way he hadn’t felt anything in a long time. Now it was back he sensed the soul residing in that familiar body so clearly he wondered how he could ever have had doubts about its absence.
He could feel Sam’s exhaustion, bone deep and near-paralyzing. His body demanded rest after having been pushed mercilessly for more than a year and his soul carried the trials of nearly two centuries of hell with it. Sam might now have been aware of the damage, but the damage was there and it was wearing him down. Castiel could imagine that he slept a lot since he had returned. He knew Sam would have problems in the future, even after his soul had settled into place and his body’s exhaustion had worn off; the solution Death had come up with wasn’t ideal, and the angel wondered what price there would be to pay.
He could feel the barrier, too, and behind it terror and suffering like a flaming inferno. The wall would not hold, he suddenly knew. Not forever. Not even for long.
And before the wall he felt Sam’s soul, the part that was accessible and human and there; tired, confused and incredibly fragile. It made Castiel want to remain here and protect him, shield him from any harm. Made him want to hold Sam together when the wall started to break, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that any more than Dean.
Beside him, Dean stood still and watchful, and Castiel wondered if he knew that they were going to lose his brother again, probably soon. If the desperate protectiveness Dean displayed in every look, every gesture was any indication, he did.
The barrier Death had put up was supported by Sam’s own mind, however unconsciously so. It was weaker when he was asleep - the angel sensed the memories bleeding through, no more than vague impressions but enough to cause Sam’s sleeping mind to slip into another nightmare. He interfered gently, almost involuntarily - keeping the images away and soothing the part of Sam that instinctively cried out to Dean and (Castiel noted it with some surprise) to him.
There was no outward sign of the nightmare. Castiel assumed Sam had them every time he slept, but it was quite possible that Dean didn’t even know that.
This one was defeated quickly, but not as smoothly as Castiel would have liked. Instead of calming Sam’s mind, Castiel disturbed it enough to draw it back to the surface. He did not need to look at Dean to feel his glare when Sam moved and his eyes fluttered open.
They were unfocused for a moment as Sam tried to find his way back into reality. Castiel withdrew his hand and was about to get up from the bed when Sam gasped, “Cas?” and his eyes widened as if the angel was the most miraculous thing he had ever seen.
“Cas, hey.” Sam’s entire face lit up. It wasn’t something Castiel had seen in a long time, and never with such brilliance. He felt something strange inside him that he had no expression for.
“Hello Sam,” he said, as solemnly as possible. Sam was fine. He wasn’t broken (not yet). There was no adequate way to express the relief Castiel was feeling, so he didn’t try.
“Dean told me you came back, but… It’s good to see you, man!” Sam pushed himself up to his elbows, then made a movement as if to hug Castiel, only to hold himself back at the last moment. Castiel wondered, for a second, what Dean had told his brother. The older brother hadn’t been happy with the angel for not showing up when called unless bribed or tricked. It wasn’t likely that he would present his actions in a more positive light to Sam.
Then Castiel realised the Sam was talking about the time God brought him back after Lucifer had killed him - the last memory Sam had of him before jumping into the cage.
Castiel did not hug him either, regardless of the fact that he wanted to. It would have seemed inappropriate, somehow. Instead he grabbed Sam’s hand and stood, pulling his friend to his feet with him. ‘God has mercy on those who deserve it,’ he very nearly said. Then he looked at the young human who had spend too many lifetimes in hell and would die with his throat raw from screaming and realised that the words were too empty to be spoken.
Instead he said, “I am glad about your return as well,” and pulled Sam into a hug after all. Sam went stiff with surprise for a moment, but then he relaxed and returned the embrace with more strength than Castiel had expected, or dared hope for.
Rather than marvel about it he merely accepted the way Sam clung to him and tightened his own grip, holding onto his friend as long as he could.
December 24, 2010
Author: vail_kagami
Genre: gen
Characters: Castiel, Sam, Dean
Rating: PG
Word count: 1569
Spoilers: Up to and including 6.11.
Summary: For once, Castiel visits the Winchesters without pressing need.
Note: Witten for this prompt at the sassy_otp commentfic meme.
The room was different. It was the first thing Castiel noticed when he arrived.
Being a motel room he had not previously entered, it was only natural that it wasn’t like any other room he’d seen before, yet all motel rooms were basically the same. The same basic interior, the same air of haste, and lately, the same sense of emptiness that accompanied Dean and Sam anywhere they went. Anywhere Sam went, because his presence filled nothing.
Castiel had not noticed it before, not in a way he could put into words. He noticed it now when he appeared in another motel room that was like all the others yet wasn’t and it felt more like the rooms the brothers had stayed in when they had been fighting Lilith, and Lucifer.
It wasn’t the same, though. Their presence had another quality to it, one Castiel had not experienced before. The emotions the angel identified as Dean before he even located the older brother were familiar, but much more intense than they had been ever before, for the first time not covered by anything else.
All this Castiel noticed in an instant, before even the sound of his wings had faded. He looked around and noticed that the room was of higher quality than the motels his human friends usually chose. There was no rot under the wallpapers, the shower did not drip, and the comfortable warmth indicated a properly functioning heater.
Dean was sitting at the small table, Sam’s laptop in front of him. He stared at Castiel with shock, suspicion and something that bordered on hostility. The angel could not tell with certainty what was causing it, and Dean’s quiet words were even more puzzling.
“If you wake him up,” he near-whispered, “I’ll kill you.”
Castiel, who had opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and turned around to find Sam on one of the large and unusually comfortable looking beds. His eyes were closed and he didn’t move.
“What happened to him?” the angel asked.
“Keep your voice down,” Dean hissed. “He’s sleeping. Thought that was obvious.”
It wasn’t, not anymore. “Sam doesn’t sleep.”
“He does now.”
Castiel looked at the human, flat on his back, an open book trapped between his palm and his stomach, and stepped closer in fascination. He sensed Dean’s tension, as if the other man were ready to stop him should he get too close, but he didn’t interfere even when Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed.
“It is true, then,” the angel muttered. “His soul has been returned.”
“You knew about this?” Dean was still speaking quietly, but Castiel knew it was unnecessary. Sam’s sleep was too deep to be easily disturbed.
“It’s why I came. I had not thought it possible.” The dread that filled him lifted a little. Sam appeared to be simply sleeping. Castiel had feared to find him catatonic or irreparably insane. “I do not understand this,” he admitted. “Is he… okay?” The words were inadequate to convey his worry, but they would have to do.
Dean left his place at the table to stand beside Castiel, hovering over his brother with a protectiveness that seemed to fill the entire room. He ran a hand over his face. “Kind of. Yes. For the moment. He’s okay.”
Castiel looked at him sharply. “What does that mean?” he inquired, before looking back at Sam, unwilling to take his eyes off the younger brother longer than absolutely necessary. It felt like his friend had only now returned from the dead.
In a way that was exactly the case.
“Death… Death pulled him out.”
It actually made sense, though it was unexpected. Death would have the power to do what Castiel had not been able to even attempt. He decided not ask what price Death had demanded in return - there were more important things at the moment. “And?”
“And he put up a wall in his mind. You know, some kind of barrier. It won’t… It’s keeping out the memories of hell. He doesn’t remember what his body did without him either, not really. Basically, that there is Sam just after jumping into the cage, but before he hit the ground.”
Castiel didn’t actively acknowledge Dean’s words, nor his sharp intake of breath when he reached out and gently brushed his fingers against Sam’s forehead. The connection the contact brought was immediate and strong. He could feel Sam in a way he hadn’t felt anything in a long time. Now it was back he sensed the soul residing in that familiar body so clearly he wondered how he could ever have had doubts about its absence.
He could feel Sam’s exhaustion, bone deep and near-paralyzing. His body demanded rest after having been pushed mercilessly for more than a year and his soul carried the trials of nearly two centuries of hell with it. Sam might now have been aware of the damage, but the damage was there and it was wearing him down. Castiel could imagine that he slept a lot since he had returned. He knew Sam would have problems in the future, even after his soul had settled into place and his body’s exhaustion had worn off; the solution Death had come up with wasn’t ideal, and the angel wondered what price there would be to pay.
He could feel the barrier, too, and behind it terror and suffering like a flaming inferno. The wall would not hold, he suddenly knew. Not forever. Not even for long.
And before the wall he felt Sam’s soul, the part that was accessible and human and there; tired, confused and incredibly fragile. It made Castiel want to remain here and protect him, shield him from any harm. Made him want to hold Sam together when the wall started to break, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that any more than Dean.
Beside him, Dean stood still and watchful, and Castiel wondered if he knew that they were going to lose his brother again, probably soon. If the desperate protectiveness Dean displayed in every look, every gesture was any indication, he did.
The barrier Death had put up was supported by Sam’s own mind, however unconsciously so. It was weaker when he was asleep - the angel sensed the memories bleeding through, no more than vague impressions but enough to cause Sam’s sleeping mind to slip into another nightmare. He interfered gently, almost involuntarily - keeping the images away and soothing the part of Sam that instinctively cried out to Dean and (Castiel noted it with some surprise) to him.
There was no outward sign of the nightmare. Castiel assumed Sam had them every time he slept, but it was quite possible that Dean didn’t even know that.
This one was defeated quickly, but not as smoothly as Castiel would have liked. Instead of calming Sam’s mind, Castiel disturbed it enough to draw it back to the surface. He did not need to look at Dean to feel his glare when Sam moved and his eyes fluttered open.
They were unfocused for a moment as Sam tried to find his way back into reality. Castiel withdrew his hand and was about to get up from the bed when Sam gasped, “Cas?” and his eyes widened as if the angel was the most miraculous thing he had ever seen.
“Cas, hey.” Sam’s entire face lit up. It wasn’t something Castiel had seen in a long time, and never with such brilliance. He felt something strange inside him that he had no expression for.
“Hello Sam,” he said, as solemnly as possible. Sam was fine. He wasn’t broken (not yet). There was no adequate way to express the relief Castiel was feeling, so he didn’t try.
“Dean told me you came back, but… It’s good to see you, man!” Sam pushed himself up to his elbows, then made a movement as if to hug Castiel, only to hold himself back at the last moment. Castiel wondered, for a second, what Dean had told his brother. The older brother hadn’t been happy with the angel for not showing up when called unless bribed or tricked. It wasn’t likely that he would present his actions in a more positive light to Sam.
Then Castiel realised the Sam was talking about the time God brought him back after Lucifer had killed him - the last memory Sam had of him before jumping into the cage.
Castiel did not hug him either, regardless of the fact that he wanted to. It would have seemed inappropriate, somehow. Instead he grabbed Sam’s hand and stood, pulling his friend to his feet with him. ‘God has mercy on those who deserve it,’ he very nearly said. Then he looked at the young human who had spend too many lifetimes in hell and would die with his throat raw from screaming and realised that the words were too empty to be spoken.
Instead he said, “I am glad about your return as well,” and pulled Sam into a hug after all. Sam went stiff with surprise for a moment, but then he relaxed and returned the embrace with more strength than Castiel had expected, or dared hope for.
Rather than marvel about it he merely accepted the way Sam clung to him and tightened his own grip, holding onto his friend as long as he could.
December 24, 2010