“You’re drunk on this power, brother,” Balthazar tells him, but there is no accusation in his eyes or tone; only excitement. “You’re stronger than ever before.”
And there - beyond the humour and jaded speech, lies naked devotion. Castiel considers, for the briefest of moments, sharing the sheer purity of power that Sam’s untainted soul gives him. After all, Balthazar has-has been loyal, has-no. No. Sam is his. Sam will... help him till he’s won the war, and Castiel is winning the war.
He isWhen Castiel next meets Dean, the hunter is holding his brother in his arms, crying. He’s seen Dean’s darkest despairs often enough to be able to recognise its taste in the air; it hangs now, thick and cloying and black. “Dean,” he says. “Sam’s
( ... )
And there - beyond the humour and jaded speech, lies naked devotion. Castiel considers, for the briefest of moments, sharing the sheer purity of power that Sam’s untainted soul gives him. After all, Balthazar has-has been loyal, has-no. No. Sam is his. Sam will... help him till he’s won the war, and Castiel is winning the war.
He isWhen Castiel next meets Dean, the hunter is holding his brother in his arms, crying. He’s seen Dean’s darkest despairs often enough to be able to recognise its taste in the air; it hangs now, thick and cloying and black. “Dean,” he says. “Sam’s ( ... )
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Hee! I figured it was a very SamnDean kind of interaction.
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