Fic: The Correlation of Salvation and Love; Sam/Castiel
The Correlation of Salvation and Love
One-shot
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, SGA or any of their characters or plots. I mean no infringement, this is for personal benefit only.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Castiel with a smidge of Dean/Vegas!John Sheppard (you’ll miss it if you blink)
Word count: 10,104
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam hasn’t given up on God, he can’t. Dean’s given up on everything--Lisa, Sam, life. Sam thinks that if he can find God for Cas, that maybe Dean might start believing in something again. He’s not sure why he thinks that, it’s not like Dean believes in God, but Sam thinks they need something. They’ve been running on empty for miles now and all there is is more road in front of them.
Warnings: abuse of canon, very little actual plot, spoilers through almost all of season 6
Beta:
welfycat
Author’s Notes:
- For the 31 Abominations challenge at
sassy_otp
- Doesn’t acknowledge The Man Who Would Be King or any episodes thereafter. Also Sam never started drinking demon blood and didn’t come back soulless. And, uh, Gabriel isn’t dead. Okay, so yeah, this is becoming the story of things I wish hadn’t happened.
- Quote about grace belongs to Relient K
- Story title comes from The Unwinding Cable Car by Anberlin
Castiel learns to drive somewhere in the middle of Oklahoma. It’s dark, it’s quiet, and Sam is mostly drunk in the seat next to him. Castiel would just fly Sam and the Impala back to the motel, but the last time he tried to fly the Impala anywhere, Dean yelled for ten minutes straight and then took off and didn’t return for almost a full day.
No flying the Impala. At all. Ever.
Sam is drunk, though, and Dean’s at the motel, passed out from exhaustion, so there’s no one left to drive but Castiel.
“Right is for the gas, and left is the brake,” Sam manages to tell him. “It’s pretty easy.”
Castiel manages to make it about a mile before Sam rolls his eyes and wedges Castiel against the driver side door. Sam pulls the Impala to the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, and turns off the car.
“I’m gonna sleep it off,” Sam says. “You don’t have to stay.”
Castiel never has to stay. He just does. Mostly he stays for Dean because, well, it’s hard to be around Sam sometimes. But it’s not as though he’s never stayed for Sam, either. Castiel’s fighting a war in Heaven, and he never thought he’d seek a refuge with the Winchester brothers. They’ve never been anyone’s idea of peace and quiet.
He likes it, though. He likes driving through middle America with the windows down and terrible classic rock playing. (Castiel much prefers the music when Sam gets to pick it, but he won’t ever tell Dean that.) He likes tiny diners and fresh pie and booth seats. He likes it--he likes them.
Sam slides back over to the passenger’s side and reclines his seat, seemingly content to sleep in a car in the middle of nowhere. Castiel thinks it says a lot about Sam. What, exactly, it says, he’s not sure.
After a few minutes, Sam opens an eye and gives him a look. “Really, Cas. I’ll be fine here for a few hours.” He reaches a hand out and it grazes Castiel’s. He voice softens when he says, “I know you’re busy with other things.”
Before everything--before the apocalypse, and Lilith, and Sam going to Hell and coming back--there was a thing. A small thing. Between Castiel and Sam.
They never talk about it, there’s not really much to say, and for all he knows, Castiel might be making it all up. But he thinks there was a thing.
“You okay, Cas?” Sam asks. His voice is full of concern and his eyes, both now open and looking at him, are filled with an emotion Castiel can’t name.
“Yes. Fine. I wish to stay.”
“Stay?” Sam frowns. “You want to watch me sleep?”
Castiel stares. “Yes.”
Sam hesitates and Castiel can see it, there on the side of the road with a soft moonlit glow, there’s a look in Sam’s eyes. It’s the look of someone who wants something they know they can never have. Castiel knows a little bit about that look. Sam’s hand brushes against his own again and this time Castiel reaches out and grabs a hold of it. Sam doesn’t try to pull away.
It’s always been complicated, and there’s always been something in the way, but the sky is clear tonight, and not a single car has passed them on the road. Castiel wishes those were the only things that mattered.
“We can’t,” Sam whispers.
It’s nothing Castiel doesn’t know, but it hurts just the same. He knows it hurts Sam, too. They’ve always been the kind of people to put others first. The one time Sam did something for himself, Jess died, and Sam never let himself love like that again. And now? Now they’re in the middle of a war in Heaven and Sam’s walking around haunted from his time in Hell.
Castiel squeezes the hand in his and lets some of his grace seep into Sam. Sam doesn’t let him do this often--says that something so pure touching something as messed up as him is wrong. Castiel likes doing it, though. He can feel how much Sam aches inside, how much of a battle every day is. Sam’s always had so much faith and Castiel knows how much it kills him to be seen as an abomination.
Sharing grace is intimate and overwhelming. For hours afterwards, Sam shines bright with it, and Gabriel once said that Castiel may as well have written his name all over Sam in permanent marker for as subtle as it is. It’s true, though, while Sam shines, it’s as though Castiel’s claimed him for all to see.
“Cas,” Sam says brokenly. Castiel slows the transfer of grace before halting it. Sam’s completely sober now and glowing with Castiel’s grace. He’s beautiful. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“Why not?”
Sam sighs and looks away. “I don’t deserve it.”
Sadness sweeps over Castiel and he wishes there was a way to make Sam believe that he does. When Castiel isn’t fighting a war, he’s researching. There’s nothing he wants more than to make Sam pure again, as bright as the soul that shines within him.
Castiel reclines the driver’s seat so it matches Sam’s and he doesn’t protest when Sam tugs him over so his head leans against Sam’s shoulder. It’s nice and quiet and still, all things that Castiel loves.
“How are things in Heaven?” Sam asks. He’s the only one that ever does; Dean either doesn’t remember to or doesn’t care to.
“I wish Gabriel would return,” Castiel admits. “Raphael still believes him to be dead.”
“What happens if Raphael wins?” Sam draws a shape on Castiel’s knee and it almost tickles.
“The apocalypse restarts,” Castiel tells him. “Michael and Lucifer are freed from the cage. More of my brothers and sisters die.”
“Have you given up on God?” Sam asks. He sounds so sad, so broken, that Castiel wishes he had it in him to lie.
“My father is nowhere to found,” Castiel answers. “Even now as his children fight, he refuses to show his face.”
Sam draws on his knee again and Castiel thinks it’s the romantic version of a heart. He’s inexplicably touched. “Gabriel’s still looking, though, right?”
“For now.”
Sam’s silent for a while, drawing hearts onto Castiel’s leg while Castiel clings to Sam’s hand. Seconds on Earth mean hundreds of moments in Heaven, but Castiel’s learned a thing or two about selfishness and survival. He wants this as much as he needs it.
“I don’t want you getting attached to me,” Sam whispers. “We know where I’m going, Cas, probably sooner than later.”
Castiel wants to argue, wants to tell Sam that someone who’s lived his life could never be doomed to Hell. But Sam’s been doomed since before he could talk. It’s not fair, if fairness even exists. One of Castiel’s best friends, Balthazar, used to say that the beauty of grace, is that it makes life not fair. Castiel hopes he’s right, because Sam deserves Heaven.
He finds it funny that Sam thinks he’s not already attached to him. He’s known Sam for three years now, has died twice in those three years, and still keeps coming back. Castiel shares a bond with Dean, but is drawn to Sam.
Castiel reaches out and draws an awkward summation of a heart on Sam’s jeans. It’s already too late. He thinks Sam knows it, too.
They spend the next day on the road to Bobby’s. Castiel’s not with them and Sam feels his loss more than he thought he would. Castiel rarely wastes time on the road with them, not when there’s so many other things to do.
Sam had thought that stopping the apocalypse would mean less time on the road, less time hunting. Now he thinks he probably should have believed in aliens while he was at it.
They’ve gotten rid of Eve, whether or not it’s for good, they don’t know, but she’s gone for now and that’s enough. He wishes they could do more for Cas. Sam hasn’t given up on God, he can’t. Dean’s given up on everything--Lisa, Sam, life. Sam thinks that if he can find God for Cas, that maybe Dean might start believing in something again. He’s not sure why he thinks that, it’s not like Dean believes in God, but Sam thinks they need something. They’ve been running on empty for miles now and all there is is more road in front of them.
There’s the flutter of wings and a hand brushing against Sam’s neck. “Hey, Cas.”
Dean swerves a little and Sam really thinks he should be used to this by now. “Hello, Sam. Dean.”
“Anything we can help you with today?” Dean asks. “And seriously, would a phone call be so hard? A simple hey, I’m about to appear out of nowhere.”
“It’s not nowhere,” Castiel argues.
Sam hides a smile but Dean glares at him anyway. “It’s polite, Sam.”
He rolls his eyes. Castiel is an angel, he doesn’t really follow the same etiquette rules as humans. And neither does Dean. Sam turns in his seat to face Cas. “What’s up?”
Castiel shifts in a way that tells Sam he’s uncomfortable and says, “I thought I would…check-in.”
“Check-in?” Dean repeats doubtfully. “Since when do you just check-in?”
Castiel’s hand brushes Sam’s arm on the side of the seat and Sam feels warm. “We’re about to stop for lunch,” Sam says. “You in, Cas?”
The angel nods and Sam subtly snags Cas’s right hand with his left. Castiel twines their fingers in the small space between Sam’s seat and the door. They hold hands until Dean pulls into a roadside diner a few miles down the road.
It’s the middle of December when Castiel knocks on Sam’s door. Sam and Dean have been holed up at Bobby’s for a week; Dean’s out at a bar, Sam stayed in.
Heaven’s still at war, and Castiel has been there for the past three months. He’s taking a break.
The door opens and Sam’s shirtless, hair mussed. He was sleeping. “Cas?” A smile spreads across his face and he pulls Castiel into a tight hug, one that Castiel tries his best to return. He gestures Castiel in and shuts the door behind him. Castiel takes a seat next to Sam on the bed and it only takes a second before Sam is tugging on his trench coat and Castiel’s laying on his back, sharing a pillow.
Sam’s body is hot next to his and the bed is barely big enough for both of them, but this is the best Castiel has felt in ages.
“I meant to come sooner,” Castiel tells him.
“You’re here now,” Sam says in acceptance. Castiel likes that about him--he doesn’t argue as much as Dean, doesn’t demand things, only accepts them.
“How have you been?” Castiel asks. He knows a little bit, Dean is his charge after all. Sam is his…something.
“I think Dean found the best pie in the country a few weeks ago,” Sam tells him. “In the middle of nowhere, man, there’s this diner. I think he ate three whole pies by himself.”
“That is…quite a feat,” Castiel says.
Sam laughs. “You know him and pie.”
Castiel wonders if Sam notices that he answered Castiel’s question with a story about Dean. He finds Sam’s hand and pushes some grace into him. Sam makes a small noise but doesn’t protest this time.
“Will you be here for Christmas?” Sam asks.
Castiel doesn’t understand holidays and the need to celebrate them with special foods and gifts. “If you want,” he acquiesces.
“I do,” Sam tells him. There’s only a slight hesitation before he says, “I’ve missed you.”
Castiel doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t think either of them expect him to. He keeps up a steady flow of grace into Sam. When they’re like this, connected grace to soul, Castiel can feel Sam even better than he can Dean.
“How’s it going in Heaven?” Sam asks.
Castiel sighs, a purely human thing to do. “It has been difficult with Balthazar’s absence.” He doesn’t say death because Castiel still has hope that his closest friend may be out there somewhere. “And Gabriel refuses to come back.”
“Is he still looking for God?”
“As much as anyone can.”
“I think he’s just lost, Castiel. His father abandoned him.”
“Gabriel abandoned us.”
“He loves his brothers,” Sam says quietly.
“He gave up.”
“Maybe.” Castiel can tell that Sam doesn’t believe he did.
Sam glows bright with grace and Castiel has to force himself to stop sending him more. He’s never had this urge before, this urge to claim, mark, make Sam his. Sam wear his sigils on his chest, but it’s not enough.
“Cas…are we ever going to talk about this?” he asks with a squeeze of Castiel’s hand.
“What would you say?”
“I don’t know,” Sam admits. “I’d probably ask you to visit more.”
“I’ll try.”
Sam nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his own. His fingers stroke Cas’s and they just seem to get closer. “What’s Heaven like? Is it really like Ash’s? Is everyone’s really different?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder what mine would have been like,” Sam muses. “It wouldn’t have just been some random holiday or a random road, right?”
“Everyone’s is their own,” Castiel offers.
“I think Dean’s would just be the Impala.”
“It does seem to make him remarkably happy.”
“What’s yours like?” Sam asks him.
“I’m an angel,” Castiel says blankly.
“So yours is different?”
“Yes.”
Sam slides down until he can rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder. It feels remarkably more intimate than it perhaps is, but Castiel relishes in the feeling all the same. “Tell me about your Heaven.”
Castiel doesn’t smile, per se, but his grace flares and he lets himself rest a hand lightly on Sam’s body as he starts talking quietly, telling Sam about his garrison and his friends and the Heaven that most people don’t get to see.
Sam waits up on the twenty-fifth. Castiel said he would be here, so Sam waits. It’s almost midnight, and Sam wonders, not for the first time, if Castiel has any way of knowing the date and time while he’s in Heaven.
Dean’s mostly drunk and in bed, same with Bobby, but Sam’s sitting on the couch watching the minutes tick by.
It’s not the end of the world if Cas doesn’t come, but Sam figures it doesn’t hurt anything to wait up, just in case. Five minutes to twelve, he hears wings flutter and a smile stretches across his face. When he turns, he finds Gabriel looking at him expectantly. Sam tries not to let his disappointment show. He’s pretty sure he fails.
“What’s up, Sammy?” Gabriel grins, coming around the couch and collapsing down next to Sam.
“Hey, Gabriel,” Sam says.
From out of nowhere, Gabriel produces a candy cane, and offers it over to Sam. “Merry Christmas and all that, kiddo.”
Sam takes the proffered candy. “Thanks. You, too.”
They sit in stark silence for a minute until Sam turns to find Gabriel staring intently at him. Sam blinks, but Gabriel doesn’t look away. His eyes narrow for a moment and then he shifts, producing a small wrapped package. He offers it out to Sam and the second Sam touches it, his fingers tingle and grow warm. The package is soaked in grace and Sam would know that grace anywhere. He lets a smile stretch across his face.
“You’re not supposed to be able to do that,” Gabriel muses out loud.
“Do what?”
“Feel grace like that.”
Sam shrugs. “It’s Cas’s. I can’t feel yours or anything. Just his.”
Gabriel eyes him as Sam carefully opens the box. Inside is a ring with a pair of wings going around the outside. Sam’s never been a jewelry man, but there’s no way he’s not wearing this. It slides easily onto the ring finger on his left hand, and Sam tries not to think about what that might mean.
“Hmm,” Gabriel says.
Sam looks up from the ring. “Does this mean he’s not coming?”
Gabriel’s expression is a mixture of pity and sadness. “Not tonight, kid. He’s stuck in the middle of something at home.”
“But you saw him? Does he look okay?”
“He’s fine, just busy.”
Sam nods. “Thanks for, uh…” he holds up the wrappings of his gift.
“No sweat,” Gabriel says. He moves to leave, but Sam reaches out and stops him with a hand on his arm.
“How’s your search going?”
There’s only hopelessness in Gabriel’s eyes now. “Never better,” he says. With a snap of his fingers, he’s gone.
Somewhere, the clock strikes midnight, and Sam thinks this may be one of his better Christmases.
They’re in the middle of a hunt when Castiel pops in next. Sam almost shoots him, and Dean curses a little, but that’s the only greeting they give other than a finger to the lips to stay quiet. Castiel nods and follows them through an abandoned house.
An hour later, Sam and Dean are dirty, Sam’s wrist is throbbing, and Castiel looks like he stepped out of GQ. So a pretty average day. Castiel climbs in the back of the Impala and Dean drives them to the motel in silence. He heads for the shower first, giving Castiel a look he can’t interpret, leaving him alone with Sam.
Castiel’s eyes are drawn to the ring on Sam’s finger, still glowing bright with his grace. Sam’s gingerly holding his arm to his chest, while looking through his bag. He pulls out a small white bottle and gives it a shake. It sounds ominously silent.
Sam sighs. “Great, Dean,” he mumbles.
Castiel takes a step towards Sam and hesitates only briefly before gently pulling Sam’s arm towards himself. Sam is warm and pliant and moves closer to Castiel. Their chests are almost touching and Castiel wants to be closer, but he stays where he is. He pushes a little bit of healing grace into Sam’s arm and they let it fall to the side.
Sam swallows and an arm slowly wraps itself around Castiel. He raises his arms and returns the gesture and then they’re hugging. Sam’s holding him tightly and maybe it should be weird, maybe Castiel shouldn’t want this, but he’s not giving it up for anything.
His grace starts to bleed over, unbidden, but not unwelcome.
“Thanks,” Sam breathes into his ear. “For my arm.”
“You’re welcome,” Castiel returns.
“I’m probably getting you all dirty,” Sam says, but doesn’t move to pull away.
Castiel doesn’t shrug, he just stands there, wrapped around Sam. He can already feel the pull of other angels, asking him to return to Heaven. There’s so much going on right now and Castiel staying with Sam can only be viewed as selfish. “I must return,” he murmurs.
“You’ll come back?”
“Yes.”
He’s not sure, but he thinks he feels Sam’s lips brush his forehead as they pull apart. Sam smiles at him and it warms him on the inside. Castiel looks back at the closed bathroom door and then at Sam. He nods and extends his wings. He’s gone from Sam in an instant, but it seems like forever.
A couple of months since the last time he’s seen Castiel, Sam hears the flutter of wings, but instantly knows it’s not Cas. He freezes with the ice bucket in his hand, soda in the other. He slowly turns, not sure who to expect. Gabriel doesn’t come by much, and when he does he usually does so with fanfare.
There’s a blonde angel behind him, with a suspiciously low cut shirt for a man. He looks…sad? Maybe? Downtrodden, Sam decides.
The angel hesitates before saying, “You aren’t Castiel.”
Sam shakes his head. “Nah, man. He hasn’t been here for a while. Do you need him?”
“I sensed his…” the man shakes his head. “You can call him?”
Sam shrugs. They might have a thing, but Sam doesn’t usually call Cas, he leaves that to Dean. “Maybe. Can you not… Is Cas lost?”
The man frowns. “Lost? No I don’t think so.”
“But you can’t find him?” Sam narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”
The man sighs and seems to sag under and invisible weight. “Balthazar.”
“Balthazar? The Balthazar?” Sam asks. “Cas’s Balthazar?”
The angel looks away sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say I’m his, really.”
“Castiel thinks you’re dead,” Sam accuses. “He’s been mourning you for months.”
Balthazar steps back to lean against the wall. “I’m sorry for that, I really am. Castiel has always been a good friend.”
Sam stares at him. “What do you want with him now?”
“I heard he was looking for Dad,” Balthazar says.
“Was,” Sam agrees. “As in past tense. Cas doesn’t think he exists anymore. Gabriel’s given up hope, too”
“Gabriel?” Balthazar gapes. “He’s alive?”
“Seems you’re not the only angel who can fake his death.”
Balthazar takes a minute to compose himself before saying, “I want to help in the search.”
Sam shakes his head. “No way, man. You’re not screwing around with Cas again.”
The angel is silent for a moment, looks Sam up and down from head to toe. “You shine like him, you know. His grace. It’s why I’m here. I hadn’t realized that Cassie went and fell in love with a human.”
Sam flushes. “It’s not--we’re not--,” he sighs. “It’s not like that.”
“Sam!” he hears Dean yell. “Did you get lost getting ice, dude?”
“I’ll be right there, Dean,” Sam yells back.
“Take your time, princess,” Dean answers, shutting the door loudly.
Balthazar’s eyes are wide. “Sam and Dean,” he murmurs. “Castiel fell in love with a Winchester? Which one are you? The one with the demon blood or the one with the drinking problem?”
“Are those mutually exclusive?”
“Yup.”
Sam sighs. “The one with the demon blood.”
“Huh.” Balthazar looks him over again.
“Are we done here?” Sam asks, clutching the ice bucket tighter.
Balthazar reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “Will you give this to him?”
Sam eyes it and nods slowly. He drops Dean’s soda into the ice bucket and takes it from Balthazar, tucking it into his jeans. “I’m not sure when I’ll see him next.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Balthazar says. “I… Will you tell him I’m sorry?”
Sam makes a dismissive noise and Balthazar looks at him sadly before he’s gone.
“So.”
Sam looks over at Dean. They’re driving through the middle of nowhere. It’s cold, but the windows are down slightly. There’s no music right now, just them, the car, and the open road.
“Yeah?” Sam asks.
“So, uh, you and Cas, huh?” Dean asks, glancing over at him.
“What? No,” Sam denies. “I haven’t even seen him in four months, Dean.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“But you want there to be something,” Dean says.
“Are we really having this conversation?”
There’s a shrug to Dean’s shoulders. “Guess not. Just thought you might want to talk instead of moping around like a girl.”
“I’m not moping.”
Dean sidelines him a look. “Sure, dude.”
“I’m not.”
“Whatever gets you through the night, Sammy.”
“Can we go back to not talking about this? Ever?”
Dean grins. “Hell no,” he says, “I’ll get more out of you later, Sammy.“ He reaches down and turns up the music.
Sam groans, but it goes unheard as AC/DC fills the car.
Castiel shows up a week later and Sam books a separate room at the motel they’re staying in. Dean gives him a look and surreptitiously passes him a condom. Sam rolls his eyes and shoves it into his jeans.
Even though he hasn’t seen Cas in months, it seems natural to pull him into a hug. It’s long and tight and Sam uses it to reassure himself that Castiel is still here, he’s still alive. From the way Cas is holding on to him, he thinks that Castiel is probably doing the same thing.
Eventually Castiel pulls back and eyes the single bed. Sam shucks off his shoes and climbs on. Castiel follows suit. Cas lies on his back and Sam curls up into his side.
Sam’s never had a thing move so slowly for so long, but right now, this is where he wants to be. Underneath his head, Castiel’s chest moves up and down, and Sam can hear a heartbeat that was once Jimmy Novak’s.
“Do angels…” he trails off, unsure of how to ask.
“Copulate?” Castiel finishes for him. “There is… I am unsure of how to describe it. Some find refuge in others.”
“But not while in a vessel?”
“Not traditionally.”
Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out the card he’s been carrying for months. “Someone left this for you.”
Castiel takes it slowly, turning it over in his hands. It looks blank to Sam, but he’s sure it has something on it that Castiel can see. “Who gave this to you?” Castiel asks.
“He said his name was Balthazar.”
“Impossible. Balthazar is dead.”
“He also said to tell you sorry.”
Castiel tucks the card into his overcoat. “I will look into this.”
So much of their relationship is silence that Sam’s never sure what to say when he has Castiel’s attention. “Cas?”
“Yes?”
“If I fall asleep, will you…” Sam licks his lips. “Will you still be here in the morning?”
“I can make no promises,” Castiel says regretfully. Sam thinks that might as well be theme of their relationship. If they had a relationship. Which they don’t, not really.
“I miss you when you’re gone. I thought you’d be around more.”
“Raphael has…killed many of my brothers and sisters,” Castiel says sadly. “Our numbers grow less and less every day.”
“Are you in danger?”
“I’m being as careful as possible.”
Something inside of Sam clenches at Castiel’s words. “I’m sorry,” Sam whispers. “About your family.”
“Me, too.”
Sam still prays every day. He doesn’t know who he’s praying to, but he knows what he’s praying for. He says a prayer for Dean--for safety and happiness. He says a prayer for Castiel, which, it isn’t lost on Sam. The irony of praying for an angel and not to one. He says a prayer for Bobby and for the other hunters.
Sam also prays for himself. He still prays for forgiveness, for mercy, for grace.
Dean catches him praying sometimes and has long moved from disgusted to accepting. He just stays quiet and lets Sam pray.
It’s a Thursday when Castiel finds him praying. He flutters in with a quiet noise and confused look. Sam doesn’t stop, doesn’t look up. He hears Dean tell Castiel to give him a few minutes; Sam can feel Cas’s eyes burning into him the whole time.
He finishes with amen and stands up slowly.
“Walk?” Sam asks.
Castiel doesn’t answer, but he follows Sam out of the room. Dean waggles his eyebrows at Sam as they pass and Sam wonders what exactly his brother think he and Cas do.
They follow the road until there aren’t any more streetlights and it‘s cold enough for Sam to wish he‘d brought a jacket. Sam reaches for Castiel’s hand in the dark and warms slightly when Cas lets him grab it.
“I missed you,” Sam says. He seems to say that a lot when Castiel is around. He doesn’t mean to, but it is what it is. This time it’s only been a couple of weeks since he’s last seen the angel. Doesn’t matter, though--Sam’s missed him just the same.
“I can’t stay long,” Castiel says. “But I wanted to see you.”
“How did things work out? With Balthazar?”
Castiel tenses and Sam squeezes their joined hands. “He is who he says he is. We called for Gabriel and Balthazar now searches with him.”
Sam hates the bleakness in Castiel’s voice. He hates the way defeat hangs around the angel--his shoulders slumped with disappointment and responsibility. “He’s still out there, Cas.”
Castiel looks at him sharply. “It doesn’t matter if he is. He’s not here.”
Sam pulls him into a tight hug, one that months ago Castiel would have needed time to relax into. Now he wraps his arms around Sam’s back and holds on tightly. “I’m here,” Sam whispers.
“I know.”
Castiel walks him back to the motel, but leaves before Sam opens the door. Dean’s on the other side waiting, lights from the television bounce off the walls.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks.
Sam shrugs and kicks off his shoes. He falls onto his bed and closes his eyes; he misses Cas already. Sam wonders if it’s okay to love an angel if you’re already on the path to Hell.
Sam finishes his interviews first and heads back to the motel to wait for Dean. It’s hot and he’s eager to be out of his suit and back into more comfortable clothing. They’ve been working a case for a couple of days in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas; it gives them something to do at least.
There’s a guy sitting on Sam’s bed when Sam enters. He’s probably about Dean’s age, maybe Sam’s, and he looks a little too nerdy to be a demon’s meat suit. Sam eyes him as he takes off his tie and his jacket. “Can I help you?”
The guy nods and smiles. “You’ve been looking for me.”
Sam squints. They’ve been looking for Horton Wilder, a guy who the locals think is either a witch, crazy, or some kind of monster. This man doesn’t look like any of the above. “I have?”
The man’s eyes move to Sam’s ring--Castiel’s ring. “You shine like Castiel does.”
“Thanks?” Sam answers. He’s not sure why he’s not attacking, why he’s not on his guard, but he isn’t and Sam doesn’t move to change that.
“Gabriel and Balthazar seek me, but you, Samuel, you talk to me.”
Sam’s good mood is gone as soon as he realizes that this, this is Castiel’s dad. “You abandoned Cas,” Sam says angrily. “He thinks you’re gone.”
Eyes bore into him before the man smiles, amused. “This is why I have always liked you, Sam. Your first thought is never for yourself.”
“Castiel’s been fighting for you, in Heaven. No one else believes you still exist--he doesn’t believe you still exist--but he pretends he does, because deep down he wants to think you’re still out there.” Sam scoffs, “You don’t deserve him.”
“My son has chosen well,” he remarks happily, ignoring Sam’s words.
Sam sighs. “Raphael is killing your children, you know. Gabriel and Balthazar have spent months looking for you, and you what? You ignore them? Show up months later in my motel room?”
He looks away, pained. “Raphael will be dealt with, and I will speak to Gabriel. For now, though,” he says, with a sly smile. “I wish to know your intentions towards Castiel.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam gapes. “My intentions?”
“Is it so odd that I would ask after my son?”
“Yes!” Sam exclaims. “You’re gone! Missing! Or were, whatever. Don’t come back if you’re not ready to stay.”
“Sam--”
Sam turns away from him. “Don’t come back if you’re going to break his heart again.”
A warm hand lands on his shoulder but Sam doesn’t turn around. “For what it’s worth, Sam, I couldn’t have picked a better person for my Castiel.”
Then the hand is gone and Sam knows he’s alone again. He sags with relief before realizing that he just yelled at God. Sam licks his lips, “Cas?” he asks. “Castiel?” His ring warms and it feels like an apology. Sam nods, “When you can.”
The door opens and Dean bursts in, holding bags of food. “Dude! I have pie.”
Sam laughs a little. “Yeah, okay.”
Castiel visits him that night. His eyes are bright and his face is full of emotion--at least for Cas. He doesn’t hesitate to pull Sam into a hug with Dean sitting right there staring at them. After a minute or so Dean coughs uncomfortably and Castiel seems to remember where he is. He pulls away from Sam and sinks down onto the nearest bed. He looks up at Sam, “May I travel with you for a while?”
Sam nods while Dean asks, “How long is a while?”
Castiel flounders a little, “I’m not sure.”
“It’s fine,” Sam breaks in. “You can stay with us as long as you need to.”
Dean groans, “No sex while I’m in the room.”
“Duly noted,” Castiel says seriously. Sam feels his cheeks redden as Dean makes a face and turns back to the television.
“There’s, uh, leftover pie,” Sam says. “If you want any.”
“Perhaps later.”
“We can watch some tv…” Sam suggests awkwardly.
“Dude,” Dean says standing up. He turns the television off and grabs his jacket. “I’m getting a beer. Don’t follow me.” He gives Sam a look as he brushes past him. Then he’s out the door and Sam’s left alone with Cas.
Sam lies down on the bed and looks at Castiel before he curls up on his side. Cas lies down next to him, his jacket lands somewhere near Sam’s feet as he stretches out next to him so that they’re facing each other. They’re incredibly close, almost forehead to forehead. Sam tangles up their legs and Castiel reaches for Sam’s hand, grace ever present, pulsing into Sam gently.
“How did you know?” Castiel asks.
“Sometimes you’ve just got to keep believing anyway,” Sam answers.
“I gave up.” He sounds ashamed and embarrassed.
“I think, from time to time, we all give up on the people we love. It doesn’t mean we love them any less, it just means we’re tired.”
“Heaven’s in chaos,” Castiel says. “I should be there.”
Sam reaches out with his free hand and touches Castiel’s shirt. “But you’re not.”
“I’m tired,” Cas whispers.
“I’ll still be here in the morning,” Sam says.
“I know.”
-0- Part II