Sam/Castiel ficlets
All of these were written for slartibartfast. The prompts she gave me to use are the titles, except the first one, where there was no prompt. :) I know I owe drabbles for that meme thing. I promise I'm getting to them!
Title: Benediction
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: for 4.21 and angst
He's kneeling in the middle of the trap. He isn't bound there. Not by ropes or tape. He's not even sure how he got here. One minute Alastair is carving into his chest and then he blinks and the table is gone. Alastair's voice isn't hissing into his ear.
He bows his head and awaits benediction.
"Is that what you believe you deserve, Sam?"
Sam's gaze darts up and light on the man standing before him. He's a dark shadow in the stark whiteness of this room. "Please."
Castiel's hand rests over his head and Sam bows again. There is no warmth or comfort. Castiel's fingers against his scalp send tendrils of ice through his veins.
"We are forgiving, Sam, and merciful. To those who show no faith and those who have sinned."
Sam looks up, his eyes wide with hope under Castiel's hand. Castiel stares down at him impassively.
"So how far must you have fallen, to deserve neither?"
Sam's eyes widen, despair rushes through him, and cold fingers touch his forehead. He opens his eyes to Alastair's grin.
Outside the panic room, Dean listens to his brother screaming for an angel.
--
Title: Light
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: no spoilers, character death
The first time he sees an angel, he re-finds his faith.
There's this bright burning, golden hand reaching towards him with fingers outstretched like it promises salvation. Sam knows it doesn't. Death rides in on a flare of light and Sam welcomes it.
He expects it to burn when those fingers rake into his hair but it's a cool soothing balm. It calms the already fierce burn of the powers that boil through him. It freezes the demon blood until it cracks in his veins.
It doesn't even hurt. He can't tear his eyes away as wings that shouldn't exist wrap around him. They cleanse him, drain him of the taint in his soul. They kill him.
And all Sam can do is stare.
"You're beautiful," he whispers before his eyes slip closed.
Castiel smiles. "And you will be once again."
--
Title: Caffeine
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/spoilers: maybe vaguely for 4.20, blood kink (sorta)
Dean isn't the only one that has nightmares. That's where the similarities stop though. Dean has nightmares. Sam has nightmares. Stop.
Because Sam's aren't about hell. And he can't drink to escape them. One of them has to stay something resembling aware. There are a lot of nights, ones where the powers within him are like static, sending pins and shocks through his limbs, where they demand blood or use or something. Those nights, Sam knows that trying to sleep will lead to the dreams.
Dreams about tearing into throats, slicing open arms, blood sliding over this tongue. Those nights, he spends doing his level best to put himself into a caffeine induced coma.
He goes through the entire pot of day old coffee that's in the motel's lobby. It's free. It's not very good.
He paces for awhile and the desk clerk must think he's inane because it's 3 A.M. and she's long since locked herself in the office. He turns to make another line across the lobby, helplessly wondering if cutting into his own arm would be a good idea, and then nearly jumps out of his skin when Castiel is standing directly in his path.
"Sam."
Sam stares at him. At Castiel's neck and wonders what an angel's blood would taste like.
Castiel tilts his head, exposes more of his throat. "Vessel's are chosen because they are unique. Because it is in their blood."
Sam nearly moans.
Castiel steps nearer, his head is still tilted. Sam breathes deep and he can smell it. See the pulse. Hear the rush.
"Taste the difference," Castiel says. "Feel it."
Sam closes his mouth down on the angel's neck and bites. Castiel's hands grip down over his shoulders.
"Dude!"
Dean is shaking his shoulders and Sam bolts upright.
"Why are you sleeping in the lobby?"
Sam swallows. He feels the slip of blood down his throat and wonders.
--
Title: Books
Rating: PG
Warnings/spoilers: no spoilers, future AU
When all is said and done and Castiel is human and Sam is hollow and Dean is tired... It doesn't feel like they've saved the world at all.
Dean spends his time sleeping. Sam spends it staring out windows at nothing. Castiel forgets everything he used to know and tries to find something that will never come close to replacing it all. So he probably feels hollow too.
And then he finds books.
Dean is sleeping and Sam is staring and Cas goes out on his own a lot. Sometimes for days but he always comes back. Like a homing pigeon. He always finds Sam and Dean, even if they switch hotels.
This time when he comes back, his arms are laden with books. He has to kick at the door until Sam can rouse himself enough to answer it.
"Cas-” Sam starts before he has to catch the top book to keep it falling to the floor. Fairy tales.
"I keep forgetting everything," Castiel says and Sam nods. He's heard this before but this time Castiel sounds excited. "Not just...about Heaven and angels, Sam, but everything."
Sam nods again. There have been days where Castiel forgets his own name, let alone the rest of it. Cas is grinning as he goes on, stepping past Sam and dropping his pile of books onto the foot of Dean's bed. Dean doesn't stir. There's not much that ever wakes him.
"I was walking and trying to remember and then I saw them."
"Books?" Sam asks dubiously while Castiel takes the book of fairy tales from his hand and begins flipping through the pages. "How did you pay for these?"
Castiel stops for a moment, looking up at Sam as if doesn't understand. He forgets, so he probably doesn't.
"Books like these will contain everything that I've forgotten. I want to..." he pauses, searches for the word, "research."
"With fairy tales?"
"With everything."
And Sam can't help it. Something inside him stirs for the first time since all the demon blood burned out of him. His gaze drifts over the pile of books Castiel has brought. He used to enjoy this and Cas is staring at him with hope and enthusiasm.
Castiel destroyed his grace and ripped his soul to save Sam's and they both know that he won't remember all the words on the pages. Sam smiles - for the first time in a long time - and grabs a book off the pile.
"Where did you want to start?"
Dean wakes to find them huddled together on the other bed, reading fairy tales. He joins them.
--
Title: Celebration
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/spoilers: sorta for 4.21, angst
“You should smile, Cas, this is a celebration.”
Nothing is better than demon blood. Sam had heard that. It's a lie because demon's do that and Sam can't possibly believe that he's the first person to stumble across this sweet little secret. But maybe he is. Maybe he's the first that's ever had the strength to the discover the truth and then do something about it.
Castiel hangs from the racks, pale skin of his chest exposed, still locked inside his vessel. The energy of an angel - God, it doesn't something to the blood of a man. There's a strip of it dripping from the line cut along his collar bone and it's the only mark on his body.
Sam ducks his head and laps his tongue along one of the ribbons that spill slowly down Castiel's chest.
“Sam-” Castiel starts. To lecture or order or bargain, Sam doesn't care. He presses his hand over Castiel's mouth. Castiel's breath is damp against his skin.
“No. You hurt my brother, Cas. No one hurts my brother. You'll serve him by the time I'm through.”
Title: Benediction
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: for 4.21 and angst
He's kneeling in the middle of the trap. He isn't bound there. Not by ropes or tape. He's not even sure how he got here. One minute Alastair is carving into his chest and then he blinks and the table is gone. Alastair's voice isn't hissing into his ear.
He bows his head and awaits benediction.
"Is that what you believe you deserve, Sam?"
Sam's gaze darts up and light on the man standing before him. He's a dark shadow in the stark whiteness of this room. "Please."
Castiel's hand rests over his head and Sam bows again. There is no warmth or comfort. Castiel's fingers against his scalp send tendrils of ice through his veins.
"We are forgiving, Sam, and merciful. To those who show no faith and those who have sinned."
Sam looks up, his eyes wide with hope under Castiel's hand. Castiel stares down at him impassively.
"So how far must you have fallen, to deserve neither?"
Sam's eyes widen, despair rushes through him, and cold fingers touch his forehead. He opens his eyes to Alastair's grin.
Outside the panic room, Dean listens to his brother screaming for an angel.
--
Title: Light
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: no spoilers, character death
The first time he sees an angel, he re-finds his faith.
There's this bright burning, golden hand reaching towards him with fingers outstretched like it promises salvation. Sam knows it doesn't. Death rides in on a flare of light and Sam welcomes it.
He expects it to burn when those fingers rake into his hair but it's a cool soothing balm. It calms the already fierce burn of the powers that boil through him. It freezes the demon blood until it cracks in his veins.
It doesn't even hurt. He can't tear his eyes away as wings that shouldn't exist wrap around him. They cleanse him, drain him of the taint in his soul. They kill him.
And all Sam can do is stare.
"You're beautiful," he whispers before his eyes slip closed.
Castiel smiles. "And you will be once again."
--
Title: Caffeine
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/spoilers: maybe vaguely for 4.20, blood kink (sorta)
Dean isn't the only one that has nightmares. That's where the similarities stop though. Dean has nightmares. Sam has nightmares. Stop.
Because Sam's aren't about hell. And he can't drink to escape them. One of them has to stay something resembling aware. There are a lot of nights, ones where the powers within him are like static, sending pins and shocks through his limbs, where they demand blood or use or something. Those nights, Sam knows that trying to sleep will lead to the dreams.
Dreams about tearing into throats, slicing open arms, blood sliding over this tongue. Those nights, he spends doing his level best to put himself into a caffeine induced coma.
He goes through the entire pot of day old coffee that's in the motel's lobby. It's free. It's not very good.
He paces for awhile and the desk clerk must think he's inane because it's 3 A.M. and she's long since locked herself in the office. He turns to make another line across the lobby, helplessly wondering if cutting into his own arm would be a good idea, and then nearly jumps out of his skin when Castiel is standing directly in his path.
"Sam."
Sam stares at him. At Castiel's neck and wonders what an angel's blood would taste like.
Castiel tilts his head, exposes more of his throat. "Vessel's are chosen because they are unique. Because it is in their blood."
Sam nearly moans.
Castiel steps nearer, his head is still tilted. Sam breathes deep and he can smell it. See the pulse. Hear the rush.
"Taste the difference," Castiel says. "Feel it."
Sam closes his mouth down on the angel's neck and bites. Castiel's hands grip down over his shoulders.
"Dude!"
Dean is shaking his shoulders and Sam bolts upright.
"Why are you sleeping in the lobby?"
Sam swallows. He feels the slip of blood down his throat and wonders.
--
Title: Books
Rating: PG
Warnings/spoilers: no spoilers, future AU
When all is said and done and Castiel is human and Sam is hollow and Dean is tired... It doesn't feel like they've saved the world at all.
Dean spends his time sleeping. Sam spends it staring out windows at nothing. Castiel forgets everything he used to know and tries to find something that will never come close to replacing it all. So he probably feels hollow too.
And then he finds books.
Dean is sleeping and Sam is staring and Cas goes out on his own a lot. Sometimes for days but he always comes back. Like a homing pigeon. He always finds Sam and Dean, even if they switch hotels.
This time when he comes back, his arms are laden with books. He has to kick at the door until Sam can rouse himself enough to answer it.
"Cas-” Sam starts before he has to catch the top book to keep it falling to the floor. Fairy tales.
"I keep forgetting everything," Castiel says and Sam nods. He's heard this before but this time Castiel sounds excited. "Not just...about Heaven and angels, Sam, but everything."
Sam nods again. There have been days where Castiel forgets his own name, let alone the rest of it. Cas is grinning as he goes on, stepping past Sam and dropping his pile of books onto the foot of Dean's bed. Dean doesn't stir. There's not much that ever wakes him.
"I was walking and trying to remember and then I saw them."
"Books?" Sam asks dubiously while Castiel takes the book of fairy tales from his hand and begins flipping through the pages. "How did you pay for these?"
Castiel stops for a moment, looking up at Sam as if doesn't understand. He forgets, so he probably doesn't.
"Books like these will contain everything that I've forgotten. I want to..." he pauses, searches for the word, "research."
"With fairy tales?"
"With everything."
And Sam can't help it. Something inside him stirs for the first time since all the demon blood burned out of him. His gaze drifts over the pile of books Castiel has brought. He used to enjoy this and Cas is staring at him with hope and enthusiasm.
Castiel destroyed his grace and ripped his soul to save Sam's and they both know that he won't remember all the words on the pages. Sam smiles - for the first time in a long time - and grabs a book off the pile.
"Where did you want to start?"
Dean wakes to find them huddled together on the other bed, reading fairy tales. He joins them.
--
Title: Celebration
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/spoilers: sorta for 4.21, angst
“You should smile, Cas, this is a celebration.”
Nothing is better than demon blood. Sam had heard that. It's a lie because demon's do that and Sam can't possibly believe that he's the first person to stumble across this sweet little secret. But maybe he is. Maybe he's the first that's ever had the strength to the discover the truth and then do something about it.
Castiel hangs from the racks, pale skin of his chest exposed, still locked inside his vessel. The energy of an angel - God, it doesn't something to the blood of a man. There's a strip of it dripping from the line cut along his collar bone and it's the only mark on his body.
Sam ducks his head and laps his tongue along one of the ribbons that spill slowly down Castiel's chest.
“Sam-” Castiel starts. To lecture or order or bargain, Sam doesn't care. He presses his hand over Castiel's mouth. Castiel's breath is damp against his skin.
“No. You hurt my brother, Cas. No one hurts my brother. You'll serve him by the time I'm through.”