Archive of Our Own ^beta

“No, no, no, no. Please, don’t.”

Cas stood in front of Sam’s closed door, uncertain. He could sense that Sam was sleeping, that he was obviously having a nightmare, but didn’t know what he should do. He didn’t have permission to enter Sam’s room, and even if he did he wasn’t sure how he could help. His grace couldn’t heal a nightmare. The room fell silent again as Cas stood there undecided, but before he could even feel relieved, the pleas came back.

So Cas did the same thing he always did when he was uncertain, he called Dean. Dean answered on the third ring. “Cas?” Dean asked sleepily, and then continued, sleepiness replaced with a tinge of panic. “What’s wrong? Is it Sam?”

“Yes.” Cas confirmed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, the first thing we do is not panic.” Cas could hear thumps and muffled curses from the other end of the line. “Does he need a hospital? Is he hurt badly? It must be bad, if it is something you can’t fix. I know you said you couldn’t fix the damage from the trials, but usually you can - is it the trials? Is he worse?”

It took a few tries, but finally Cas was able to get a word in. “I don’t believe it’s the trials, although I suspect they could be a factor.”

“Damn it.” There were more sounds of banging and then Dean’s voice, more breathless. “Look, I can be there in six, seven hours. Are you sure you don’t need to take him to the hospital? Can he speak? Put him on the phone.”

“He’s asleep right now,” Cas said, making his way back down the hallway to Sam’s room. “I can wake him if you want.”

There was an exasperated sigh from the other end of the phone. “If he’s asleep what is so wrong with him that you had to wake me up at this ungodly hour?”

“He’s having nightmares.”

“Okay, Cas. Seriously bud, that should have been your opener.”

“I want to help him.” Cas explained to Dean. “I just don’t how. It’s not something my grace can help with. I suppose I could knock him out like I do when I touch your forehead but you told me you don’t like that.”

“No, Cas. We had that talk about getting consent first remember? And no way would Sam consent to that.” Suddenly, Dean sounded more tired, sadder. “That boy needs his sleep, he’s been looking rough with the coughing and not eating and – damn, I wish this was over.”

“Nightmares?” Cas prompted after a long silence form the other end.

“Yeah, just-“ There were sounds from the other end again. “I’m still headed back to the bunker. I think I’ve done all I can do here. Kevin seems to think my helpful suggestions aren’t so helpful. I’ve given him perfectly good advice but does he listen? No, he says I am distracting him.”

“Dean. Sam’s nightmares,” Cas prompted a second time.

“Yeah, just - I don’t know. Talk to him. Rub his shoulder. If he is okay with it, stroke his hair. Make him tea; he likes that herbal kind. It’s in the cabinets above the coffee maker. Sing to him if you want. Just, let him know he’s not alone. Look, tell him I’m on my way. Just make sure he’s okay until I get there.” Cas heard a door slam and then Dean’s voice. “Kevin, I am leaving.”

“Good,” responded the stressed voice of Kevin.

Cas realized that Dean had hung up the phone and he was listening to dead air. He went back to Sam’s door and focused his attention on the other side. The room was silent, but Sam was no longer sleeping, Cas could hear it in his breathing. He knocked on the door cautiously.

“Come in, it’s open,” Sam responded.

Cas opened the door. Sam was seated on the bed, a book in his hand. He looked tense and unhappy. There were dark circles under his eyes; his shoulders were scrunched over his too-skinny body. Cas ached to use his grace to fix Sam, but knew it wasn’t possible. But he could do this, he could do as Dean instructed and be there for Sam.

“I - I heard you call out,” Cas said to him, slowly approaching the bed. “I was concerned.”

“Just a nightmare, Cas. Nothing for you to worry about,” Sam reassured him. “Really, I am going to be fine.”

“I thought I might make you some tea,” Cas said. “You seem to like tea.”

“I do like tea.” Sam put his book down. “But I can make my own tea Cas. You go back to - whatever you were doing.”

“I wish to be of assistance. You look tired Sam, you should rest. I can make it and bring it to you. Maybe some toast as well.” As a being that didn’t eat, Cas’ cooking skills were non-existent, but he figured he could handle tea and toast. Probably.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Cas.”

Several minutes later, Cas was balancing a mug of tea with twenty pieces of toast. He wasn’t sure how much to make, so he just kept putting bread into the toaster until the bread loaf ran out. He was practically back to Sam’s bedroom before he remembered that humans liked things on their toast. Like butter. Or jam. Maybe honey.

He found Sam still sitting on the bed, slumped over the book. He straightened when he sensed Cas’ presence.

“The toast is plain,” Cas explained as he carefully placed the tray on Sam’s lap. “If you don’t like plain, I can find something –“

“No, this is good,” Sam assured him as he sipped a bit of the tea, the small cup looking almost lost in Sam’s large hands. “This is great, thanks Cas.”

Cas stood awkwardly beside Sam’s bed, unsure what to do next. He thought of Dean’s list of things to help Sam and remembered he should be patting his shoulder. Tentatively he reached over and tapped-tapped-tapped on the shoulder closest to him. It didn’t feel like it would be very soothing. Sam seemed not to think so either as he startled and some of the tea spilled on to the tray and the toast.

“What-“ Sam pulled slightly away from Cas, the tea making more of a mess on the tray. “Why are you poking at my shoulder?”

“I was,” Cas started, then remembered Dean said rub, not pat. No wonder Sam didn’t like it. “I was supposed to be rubbing it.”

Sam placed the tray on his bed-side table and ran his fingers through his hair. “The question still stands.”

“Dean said it would help.” Cas shifted from one foot to the other, still wishing this was something he could fix with a touch to the forehead. “He said to talk to you, rub your shoulders.“

“You called Dean?” Sam asked, sitting up straighter in bed. “Why?”

‘You were having nightmares. I didn’t know how to help you,” Cas said to Sam. “Dean always knows what to do.”

Sam blew out a puff of air. “So when is he getting here?”

“In the morning,” Cas confirmed.

“He’s always hovering when he’s here. Kinda like you are now. I can’t tell if he is worried I am going to fall completely apart or worried I am not strong enough to finish the trials.” Sam leaned his head against the headboard. Cas wondered if he had ever seen anyone look so tired before. “He’s probably right about that. My history kinda speaks for itself.”

The trials. Cas was almost positive the trials were a mistake. He didn’t think the Winchesters understood the cosmic consequences of what they were attempting. He had a feeling deep inside, a feeling that was hard to ignore, that something was wrong about this whole situation. The general feeling of unease he had been living with for a while now intensified when he was around the Winchesters.

But Dean made it very clear that he was here just to watch over Sam, and not to dissuade him from finishing the trials. Dean was worried about Sam, and looking at Sam’s frail appearance it was something that this tall, competent man could look so young, so lost Cas believed Dean was right to be worried. Something inside Sam was changing. Something fundamental. It frustrated Cas that he couldn’t identify just what the changes were.

Sam coughed, not one of those coughing fits that ended in Sam hacking up blood thank heavens, but a raspy hoarse sound nonetheless. He remembered he was supposed to be talking to Sam. It was on Dean’s list.

“Dean loves you,” Cas said to Sam. “He worries.”

“He probably should be worried.” Something flickered in Sam’s eyes that Cas didn’t quite catch before Sam closed them.

“You didn’t eat your toast,” Cas suddenly realized. “I could make you some more. Or maybe something different. I make good sandwiches.”

Sam shook his head no. “If I eat I just throw it back up. It’s not worth the trouble.” Sam looked up at Cas “Please don’t tell Dean that, he’s mother henning me enough as it is.”

Cas didn’t like keeping secrets from Dean, but Sam was his friend too. “I won’t tell, but you need to eat, Sam. You have to keep up your strength.”

“I know. I will try in the morning, I promise.” Sam looked back up at him. “If you are going to stay here, can you at least sit? This hovering is making me nervous.”

Cas sat in the desk chair, rolling it until he was close to Sam’s bed. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to stay here, Cas. If you have anything better to do –“

“I want to help,” Cas interjected. “We should talk. Would you like to talk about the nightmares?”

Sam shook his head. “Talk about Lucifer, the cage, the trials, letting Dean – letting everyone down? Not being strong enough. I think I’ll pass on the therapy session Cas if it is all the same to you.”

Cas reached out to Sam. “Sam.“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said firmly. He yawned.

“Maybe it will help if I just sit here,” Cas said. “With the nightmares I mean. You need to try to sleep again. You look sleepy.”

5

“Is that a nice way of saying I look like crap?” There was a half smile on Sam’s lips, but he scooted down the bed, until he was on his side, facing Cas. “So what other advice did Dean have for helping me with the nightmares?”

“Talk to you. Stroke your hair. Sing.”

Sam’s voice sounded sleepier. Cas used his power to dim the lights. “He used to sing to me when I was a kid, when I had nightmares. Sometimes, when I was having a lot of trouble sleeping, he’d build me a blanket fort and we’d both sleep underneath it. Not sure why I am telling you all this. Didn’t even remember about the blanket forts until just now. Been remembering a lot about when when Dean and I were kids; not sure why.“

“I could build you a blanket fort,“ Cas said to Sam. He wasn’t sure what that was, but he knew how to use the internet and look things up. Everything was on the internet.

“I’m not six anymore, Cas,” Sam said to him, his voice sounding slower, his breathing shallower. “I don’t think it would help.”

Cas decided to move down the list to stroking Sam’s hair. Sam might like that.

Sam was too far away to reach with his hands, so Cas unfurled his wings. One of them wrapped around the back of his chair, but the other one he used to softly caress Sam’s hair. He remembered after a few seconds of gently stroking that he was supposed to ask first.

Before he could, Sam’s eyes blinked open, and the wing rested on Sam’s head. “Wow, I’ve never seen them up close. They are beautiful, Cas.”

“Is it okay?” Cas asked. “I thought it might help. With the sleeping.”

“It’s a bit weird but yeah, it’s okay.” Sam settled deeper into the bed. “I - yeah it feels nice. Almost as good as a blanket fort.”

For a few seconds, Cas’ wing just stroked Sam’s hair as Sam silently let it happen. Sam was still, but Cas could tell he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Is there anything else I can do to help Sam?” Cas asked.

“This is helping. You are a good friend, Cas.”

“I could sing to you.”

Sam’s voice sounded even sleepier. “If you want.”

Cas didn’t know a lot of songs. People thought angels spent their time playing harps and singing hymns, but that wasn’t true at all. He used to visit other people’s heavens though and one of them was a woman who died long ago. She kept a small house, for just her alone, with a flower garden and a lake nearby. It was peaceful. She sang a lot, and Cas had heard her sing this song many times.

He hummed it a bit until he found the melody, and then softly sang.

Angels watching, o’er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee
through the night

“I like that.’ Sam murmured sleepily. “it’s nice.”

Cas kept softly singing, letting his wings caress Sam’s hair, his shoulders, back up in a soft rhythm. It seemed to be helping. He continued softly singing, and he felt the moment that Sam went from mostly asleep into a deep dreamless slumber.

Angels watching ever around thee
All through the night
In they slumbers close surround thee
All through the night
They will of all fears disarm thee,
No foreboding should alarm thee,
They will let no peril harm thee
All through the night.

He hummed the rest of the song. He had always liked this song, not because it told the truth about angels, but because he had always wished it had. It would have been nice not to be a soldier, but to be a guardian instead. Maybe for this one night, he could be both.

As the night wore on, Sam barely stirred. Cas hummed all the songs he could remember, his wing keeping the soothing motion until he heard the unmistakable sounds of Dean’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. He wasn’t a bit surprised Dean arrived over an hour earlier than he said he would. He retracted his wings, somehow sure that Sam wouldn’t want Dean knowing Sam needed the comfort. It had taken him years, but he finally understood some things about his two charges, one was that they needed their pride.

Cas quickly exited Sam’s bedroom being sure to shut the door softly. “He’s asleep,” He whispered to Dean. “I did what you said and it worked. He hasn’t had another nightmare.”

“That’s awesome. You did good, Cas.” Dean said to him and then placed his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, let’s make the big lug a nice breakfast.”

Cas could feel the outside world stirring, birds calling out, the day unfurling. He could feel Sam still sleeping. He could feel how tired Dean was, how worried and anxious he was too. He could still feel a sense of something wrong, but right now he shoved it aside to concentrate on what was right.

Sam was asleep, the Winchesters were safe, and today, everything was okay.

And for now, for this moment, that was enough.