Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam Winchester was lying on the ground, feeling blood bubble up between his lips.

Sam hadn’t expected trouble, having let down his guard enough to become drowsy and relaxed, leaning into his research and letting his surroundings fall into the background. It’d been hours since he’d eaten, Sam only realised as his stomach lurched with hunger, leading the man to reluctantly walk to the nearest fast food joint. He would’ve taken the impala, but Dean had decided to ride baby around and get up to all kinds of mess. Walking it was.

The moment the cold air hit him he shivered, regretting his decision but unable to deny the need for food. Sam zipped up his hoodie, shrugged his shoulders, and set off. The wind danced around him, hitting his face and turning it a dusty pink, and almost dizzying him with the ferocity it hit his ears. “Stupid Dean” he mumbled incredulously, trying to focus on the rustling of leaves over the chill in his bones. It was a good twenty minute walk at least. God.

As the walk stretched out seemingly into eternity, Sam’s heart began to pound. Something was up, and he hadn’t bought anything more than a pocket knife out with him. He attempted to shake the feeling off, claiming to himself a hunter becomes over paranoid, especially in the dark. He attempted reaching back into those psychology books he read at college about context dependent memory and how he’d naturally be feeling stressed away from his brother, defenceless, in low visibility. No matter how hard he attempted to analyse away his unease, tightening his shoulders in preparation.

After another five minutes he began to relax, relieved he had imagined a threat and could grab a salad in peace.

Sam mused to himself about the days research, becoming lost in his thoughts but quickly getting ripped out of them. A figure - much stronger than him - had taken him by the neck and bent his arm far too sharply to inhibit his movement. “You don’t want to do this-“ Sam forced out of his constricted airways.
“Yes, I do.” The character snarled. “Sam Winchester; the boy with the demon blood. You think your life is worth more than the planet’s? You’re a monster, and you know this to be true.”

Before Sam could find his bearings he felt a knife pierce his lungs and twist, and heard his arm snap in a sickly crunch. His vision pulsed and his legs gave out, the attacker having left as quickly as they came.

The Winchester quickly analysed his situation. He couldn’t move and he was quickly becoming dizzy. He figured his best hope was to call out for help, but all that left his lips was a chilling gargle. The boy’s chest heaved and his eyes began to well with tears. He couldn’t help being afraid, doubting his chances. He attempted to move his arm from under him but couldn’t move a centimetre without his vision pulsing.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but knew that each attempt at saving himself was quickly depleting his energy. the wind whistled around him, setting deeply into his bones until his body felt as if it were pierced by thousands of small needles. The blood loss was significant as he felt his mind move further and further away from his body. Shivers wracked him violently, shooting surges of pain throughout his body at each second.

He began to feel an odd sense of calm at the thought of his life slipping away. Of course he was afraid, but it was distant now. Like a weak attempt at an instinct.

He was in agony, not just now, but constantly. His migraines caused by every head crack, the joint pain from thousands of falls and scrapes and stress, the anxiety and palpitations that wreaked havoc on his sleep. All of it and more, Sam knew it would come to a halt.

“Mom,” he whispered, only coming out as a cough and gag of seeping red. He was going to see his mother, and she would hug him and kiss his head and he would be safe. His eyes stared blankly up at the night sky, the blackness engulfing him like a blanket. He weakly whimpered at the realisation he couldn’t see the stars, and never would again. He wanted to see stars.

The flowing red turned inky black from the moonlight, it looked like art, in a way. Sam smiled to himself, being reminded of his and dean’s ‘art projects’ as kids, using watered down mud as ink.

Sam’s heart lurched, hammering once again in his chest. Oh god, Dean. He won’t get to say goodbye. He felt his head swim with guilt, all the demon blood and the insolence. He wouldn’t get to apologise. God. He wanted to hug his brother.

Sam then realised, with a sense of abject terror, that he was going to hell. He’d never get let in after all he’d done, what he’d become and what he was always destined to be. He always knew, but it was a far off depressing future. That fact had become his presence and he felt nausea rise up into his throat at the deep dread that clouded every sense of himself. He feebly attempted, for one last time, to get up.

Of course, he failed.

Sam let out a broken, strangled cry and resigned himself to his fate. The last thing he could do was beg for forgiveness.

“Dear lo-“ he choked around the words and he realised he’d lost his last words. He began to think, instead, hoping it would still get through.

‘Dear lord, angels… whoever is listening, please save me. I am so deeply sorry for what I’ve become and never meant for it. I know what I’ve done and I do not expect forgiveness, but I pray to you that you understand I never meant harm and didn’t want to die like this. I’m so deeply sorry for my sins, look after my brother.’

Once Sam had finished that he relaxed, forming the thought that he would no longer be of harm. His brother would be safe, wouldn’t have to worry about the apocalypse. Lucifer couldn’t take him. People were safe.

Sam let himself give in to the darkness surrounding the edge of his vision, the last thing he heard being the flutter of wings.

“Sam?” A gruff voice called, gravelly and confused, falling upon deaf ears. “You called?”

The angel’s eyes fell on the younger Winchester, and they quickly crossed the distance. They put a hand on Sam’s forehead and felt his life force drain.

“Sam?” They grumbled. “I’m not.. connected to heaven. I have my grace but I cannot fully heal you. I can simply stop you from dying here.”

They spoke despite the boy not hearing him. They placed their hands on the boy’s stomach and let their grace flow forwards.

The sticky, free flowing wound began to close, mangling itself back together but stopping at the point it was barely bleeding.

Castiel bowed their head in annoyance at the failure, pushing more into the healing process. Some blood returned into the Winchester, and yet the boy continued to flit away, out of Castiel’s reach.

“Sam..”

Chapter Text

“Sam..” Castiel breathed anxiously. They looked around, searching for anything that could help.

The Winchester’s breathing began to slow to next to nothing and Castiel had no other choice. They braved their hands on Sam and forced every bit of effort into their healing. Sam’s breath came back steadier, still weak, but steady. Castiel’s body visibly slumped with the combined effort and relief.

From beneath them Sam let out an audible pained sound, shivering and half-conscious.

“Sam, i need to get you up.”

Sam whined in disagreement and went limp once again. “Okay, this will hurt. I’m sorry.”

The Angel secured their coat over Sam in order to calm their shivering, and placed each arm under Sam’s knees and shoulders. As sam was hauled up he let out as loud of a shout as his weak body would allow for, and lolled his head back.

“It’s okay, Sam. We must rush.” The Angel wasn’t able to teleport, still dizzy and weaker from healing the Winchester, and set out for the motel on foot.

Sam, secured in the angel’s arms, felt an overwhelming rush of relief. He felt relieved he didn’t have to die on his own. The body surrounding him was warm compared to the sharp piercing cold the rest of his figure felt, and provided a sense of comfort Sam would never allow himself in his right mind.

“Dean, I pray you’re back.” Castiel muttered to themselves, panic rising in their form in a way they were unaccustomed to. “Sam, stay with me.”

Sam made a weak humming noise in response, but that alone calmed Castiel slightly. “That’s it.”

Sam felt warm around the edges, distant from himself. He could sense the cold and the pain and he was aware of how violent and intense it was, but he simply didn’t care. His body felt entirely separate to his mind, he didn’t feel the need to worry about the pain, as it felt only like an impression. “D’n?” Was the best he could muster.

“No, Castiel. Dean’ll come. I assure you.”

Sam barely nodded, feeling the world spin at the minute movement and then fade out once again.
Castiel sensed this and felt their heart pound, not as if it needed to. They rushed as quickly as their vessel could take them to the shared motel room, finding the keys within Sam’s pockets and fumbling fearfully with the lock. Once they got in the motel they were met with a clear absence of Dean and weakly fought off cursing the man.

They lay Sam down as gently as possible on the motel bed, keeping a hand on him to try to keep some form of life within his drained body. They one handedly found their cellphone and rang the older brother. After three tries the man picked up.

‘Jesus, cas, what? Cant you tell I’m a little busy? Cant a man get a night off?’

“Your brother is in big trouble. He is about to die. I cannot move from him and need your help.”

‘What?’ Dean’s voice sounded harrowed.

“I’m- I’m unsure. I received a prayer from him and found him bleeding out on a pavement. We are at the motel, but I cannot keep him going for long. Hurry.”

Castiel heard Dean possibly fall off a bar stool, slam down coins onto the counter, swear, and the receiver then clicked.

As the silence kicked in Castiel felt dread fill themself. They had a lot of affection for the young Winchester and didn’t ever know how to place it. Dean, they wanted to spend time with, laugh with, they admired dean’s strength and wanted to make sure the man was unharmed. They really did enjoy dean’s presence. Dean was a friend.

Sam, however, Castiel was unable to understand. Castiel felt fear around the man, not knowing what could happen to him and what his future holds, they also felt deep sadness for him. He was truly kind, and deserved no part of the horrendous game he was put in. Castiel attempted to keep a healthy distance from the boy because of the reaction their vessel seemed to have - they were drawn to Sam, wanted to reach out and touch, and Castiel was afraid of the repercussions, afraid Sam could turn into something unrecognisable, and if that was why they felt drawn. Castiel knew, deep down, that wasn’t the reason, but had no other explanation. The Angel wanted to protect Sam, keep a smile on his face, make him understand that just because he’s a conundrum doesn’t mean he was the deeply wrong creature he was made out to be.

Castiel wanted to hold Sam, wanted to ensure he never felt pain again.

Great load of good they were doing at that now, they thought.

They began to kneel down, struggling with the prolonged effort of keeping Sam in a stable state. They slotted one hand into Sam’s and another atop his stomach.

“Sam, you are precious. Please, stay.”

After what felt like an eternity, Dean burst through the door, wasting no time with the key and doing in the hinges instead.

“Oh, god, Sammy.”

Dean gave him a once over, peeling back his sticky shirt and glanced at the wound. “Shit.”

“His arm is also bent unnaturally, broken.”

“Yeah, thanks, I can see that.” Dean gritted out through bared teeth before jumping into action. He grabbed their first aid kit which was entirely lacking for two men who were so commonly gravely injured.

Dean placed himself besides the injured Sam and began pouring liquor over the wound, a sickly sizzling sound filling the tense air. This pulled sam out of unconsciousness briefly, and he writhed into castiel’s body, finding solace in the Angel.

Castiel didn’t notice their face going pink.

“Dean… please.. sorry.. stop…” the words were barely intelligible through the heavy blood-loss induced slur.

“Sorry, Sammy. No can do.” Dean offered up, as empathetic as always.

Sam flashed what can only be known as his “puppy dog eyes’ at Castiel, full of fear and pain. They were an obvious plea at Castiel to make the pain go away and they actively fought the instinct to fight Dean off of him. Sadly, the only alternative to this pain was oblivion, so Castiel guiltily shook their head. At this, Sam pushed their face into castiel’s chest deliriously and once again passed out.

“Recon he’ll sleep through now. Kid normally passes out at this point.”

Castiel nodded in relief. They couldn’t take another bout of pained Sam.

As Dean patched his wound up, eyeing up the red stain on sam’s lips as if it were personally offending him, he hummed some gentle tunes as if to sooth the sleeping man. Castiel’s body felt wired with tension and they ground their teeth so intensely that their head was beginning to hurt.

After a heavy silence Dean spoke up “I’m gonna kill the bastard that did this.” The rage was flowing off of Dean in waves, he saw red.

“I could attempt to find them, but it would prove difficult.”

“You do that.” Dean seemed to be thinking on overtime. “Why didn’t you just.. heal him? You trying to get it so he does die but I ain’t offended by you? That’s why you called me?you had it look like you tried. Some sick… angelic prick trick of yours?” Dean had to actively calm his hands from shaking.

“If that were the case I wouldn’t keep my arm on him in such an uncomfortable position.” Dean glared dangerously at the Angel at this response, believing it to be sarcastic.

“No, Dean. I’m not connected to heaven in the same way anymore, my grace is much weaker. When I use it too often, as I have been to heal you on your hunts, it begins to fatigue. Think of it as an overworked muscle. I didn’t believe it would’ve been a problem since you two were at a usually calm point in your hunts, but clearly I cannot trust that danger doesn’t find you.”

Dean stared into castiel’s eyes, analysing the statement. After a debilitating heavy pause he decided “okay, yeah. That makes sense.”

Dean finished up. “Okay, you can move now, right?”

“I’d rather stay here to ensure his safety. I will be able to heal his arm in a day or two.”

Dean looked lovingly at his younger brother, squeezed his hand, and then collapsed into the bed next to them, succumbing to exhaustion and adrenaline crash immediately.

Castiel felt Sam’s health stabilise and smiled weakly to themselves.

Castiel spent a long time staring at Sam, counting the rate of his breathing, the clotting on the wound, anything to ensure to themselves sam was safe.

After what May have been minutes, probably was hours, sam cracked his eyes open slightly and looked drowsily up at Castiel.

“Thanks… cas..” he mumbled, somehow leaning even further into the angel’s calming embrace. Sam felt at peace despite the pain.

“It’s okay, Samuel. You’re safe.”

The Angel went to move the covers over Sam, but couldn’t do that without moving him, and they didn’t want to aggravate the wound. Castiel wondered for a second about how best to keep Sam warm to help with shock symptoms, and came to a conclusion. Hopefully this wouldn’t bother the Winchester, who was falling lazily in and out of consciousness.

Castiel climbed up onto the bed awkwardly, wrapping their arms around Sam in order to protect him. They would’ve got their wings out, but was unable to with such fatigue. They breathed out shallowly, aware of their body not disturbing Sam, but upon hearing Sam’s relieved sigh they trusted their decision.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

Chapter Text

Castiel had drifted into a calm state of letting time pass around them, and was roughly ripped out of it as dean finally dragged himself awake. He took one look at the two connected at the hip and several separate emotions flashed across his face, enough to give anyone whiplash.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m ensuring Sam’s body temperature doesn’t drop below optimal.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, we got blankets.” Came Dean’s sarcastic reply.

“Dean, I am aware you are protective of your brother but I would not be doing this if it wasn’t helpful. I had to move him to get the blankets, this was much safer.” Castiel bit back with none of the ferocity Dean can muster.

A laughter of disbelief flowed freely out of Dean, and the noise, whilst confusing to Cas, made them relax happily.

“Well, thanks, dude. God, I am in a fucking Rom-com.”

Cas cocked their head at this but decided to leave it as Dean trudged to the bathroom. They already felt stronger and pressed a small amount of healing energy into the sleeping Winchester.

After a few minutes sam hazily opened his eyes, acutely aware of the pain surrounding his body. He produced a weak noise of discomfort, alerting both Castiel and Dean to his situation. Dean rushed in, quickly pressing a swig of liquor to Sam’s mouth, of which he accepted gratefully.

Castiel looked affronted. “Doesn’t alcohol negatively affect you?”

“You guys literally give wine to children in the name of communion, you cannot talk.”

“No, I can talk. I’m talking right now.”

“No- I meant-“ Dean huffed, quickly giving up on an explanation and returning to the previous comment. “It’ll make him feel a little fuzzy round the edges, that’s all. Our Sam’s a lightweight, so he doesn’t need much. Just makes it manageable, the pain.”

Castiel took this in and nodded in response. Upon sam’s next grunt of pain they provided the bottle just as Dean had done. As this happened a few more times Dean intervened, chuckling.

“Id hold off on the drink for now, Cas. Not that I’m complaining, we just don’t want him puking on the carpet. We already have one hell of a cleaning fee to dodge.”

Castiel was quick to remove the bottle from his reach, instead returning to warning Sam. The man would probably be okay, but something about the position was making the Angel happy and they felt reluctant to leave.

“Come on, Cas. You must be bored. He’s survived worse, why don’t you stretch your legs?” Despite the face they didn’t want to leave nor have any need to stretch their limbs out they decided to get up, choosing to divert any suspicion. They, in place of their own warm body, repositioned the trench coat over Sam.

“Would you like me to work on research?” Castiel offered helpfully

“Honestly? No, thanks. I want a break and with Sam conked out I can get one. He needs one too. Let’s enjoy the quiet.”

“Dean, I worry about you two. You need more breaks more often, and I apologise that we’ve all been sucked into this horrible war. I care for the both of you.”

Dean stared, dumbfounded, for a few seconds, before blinking the shock away and diverting his eyes. He cleared his throat nervously. “Thanks, man- uh, Cas. That means a lot. Thanks for your help.”

To avoid the heavier conversation topic, Dean chose to turn the tv on, flicking onto a soap. Castiel realised that despite Sam’s near-death experience, the whole room had a cosy, relaxed aura for once. Castiel distantly wished for this to last, though they wouldn’t admit it.

After an entire episode of both figures eyes’ being glued to the tv, Sam began to wake again. He whined to find Castiel wasn’t there, and seemed to be far more relaxed with the grace-alcohol concoction flowing through his veins. “Cas..?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“C’mere.”

Castiel crossed the distance. “You called?”

Sam, thankfully, had a rosy hue painted across his cheeks. “I… yeah.”

“Do you want something?” Sam stared blankly at Castiel for a second before giggling.

“You’re an Angel.”

“….yes, that is correct.”

“And I’m… like.. a demon.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed “no, sam, you are not. You’re a good soul.”

Sam briefly waved his hand, attempting to shoo away the conversation. “But.. you.. cuddled me.” He, once again, dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Dude, I told you he was a lightweight.” Came the voice of a very amused Dean.

“Yes, sam, to keep you warm.”

“Was that all?” Sam asked, lengthening the ‘all’ playfully.

Castiel swallowed. “Uhm… yes?” Lie.

To break the tension, Dean’s snorting laughter was heard in the background.

Sam pouted dramatically. “Well, I’m cold.”

“Your internal body temperature is slightly warm, if anything. Are you sure?”

Sam huffed at the failed attempt. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, then.” Castiel resumed their previous position, but then decided it’d be smart to get Sam some water. “Ah- I’ll be one minute, sam.”

At Castiel’s absence Sam practically whined, putting on a ridiculously sad face. He looked as though you’d taken away his favourite toy. He felt it, too. Sam, in his state, felt completely incapable of steadying his heightened emotions.

“Sammy, shut up, you are not about to cry.”

“‘Not.” He grumbled insolently.

“Alright then.” Dean replied in a sing-song voice, thoroughly enjoying his brother’s state.

Once Castiel returned Sam’s gentle sniffling stopped, replaced with joy at the sight of the Angel. He sipped at the water Castiel gave him. “Thanks..”

“No problem, Sam.”

The room span as Sam moved his arm, and he made quick work of digging his face into Castiel to steady himself. Said Angel then awkwardly placed a hand to the back of Sam’s hair.

“Does he usually act like this when drunk?”

“No, that’ll be the combination of blood loss. He’s always clung to me as a kid, painfully honest too, I’ve gotten so much blackmail. Looks like you’re the lucky victim.”

Castiel didn’t let on to the fact they truly did feel lucky to be on the receiving end of Sam’s relaxed state.

“Cas..?”

“Mmhm?”

“You’re strong, you saved Dean.”

The compliment blossomed throughout Castiel’s chest. “I have to be strong. I’m an Angel.”

Sam smiled to himself “and you saved me.”

“Dean did most of the saving.”

“Welllll… you chose to not let me die. Means I’m not that evil.”

“Of course you’re not, sam. You’re a very kind soul.”

Sam smiled a watery grin, overwhelmingly relieved. After a long period of thought, Sam spoke up. “You’re a handsome Angel, too. Chose a good… vessel.” He then scrunched his face up, quietly muttering a ‘weird’.

Dean squeaked a laugh in the background, surprised at how forward he was being. “Jeez, someone has a school boy crush.”

Castiel was unsure of how to reply. “Thank you.. Sam.”

“Glad you’re with us..” he slurred.

Castiel quickly, but with no surprise, realised that neither heaven nor earth was worth more than this moment. “I’m glad I am, too.”

“Nice… hands.”

“If he says one more thing I’m gonna smack him into next Tuesday, we’re nearing unpleasant territory.” Dean piped up, not wanting to hear whatever his brother found appealing.

Castiel, at the prompt, ignored their burning red face, and began to massage Sam’s scalp. This action quickly sent the man to sleep, having him slump and let out a sigh of contentment against the Angel.

They, once slightly recovered from this moment of bliss, looked up at Dean with a poorly concealed smile. Dean was staring back with a playful but sincere glare.

“If you hurt him I’m sending you to turbo hell.”

Castiel pretended they didn’t understand, playing coy at Sam’s intentions and their own emotions, but felt joy grow hot in their chest at the sight of the relaxed Winchester. They turned their attention back to the TV, never having felt more needed. Each soul in that room felt content.

Chapter Text

As the sun streamed in through the cracks in the motel curtains Sam Winchester pried open his eyes. Upon the immediate assault upon his senses he quickly closed them, favouring a low groan of pain. His head was killing him and he felt quite nauseas, stomach rolling slowly. His wound throbbed with a muscle deep ache that sharpened with every breath.

Sam then slowly became aware of something else. Castiel was wrapped around him.

Sam took this confusing but not unwelcome situation in. Upon a few minutes of deep concentration it came back to him
And his face set alight.

“Sam? Are you awake?”

Sam’s face pinched in pain “shhh.. quieter.. please.”

Castiel nodded, lowering their voice to a whisper. “How are you, Samuel?”

Sam went to answer but was quickly distracted by the angel’s strong arms at his waist, feeding him a steady stream of grace. “I’m.. okay?”

“Your face is hot, do you feel feverish?”

“No- no. I’m.. I’m okay, thanks.”

“May I get you something?”

Sam shook his head, grumbling. “I- I need to grab a shower, actually. I stink.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Sam. You must let your body heal first.”

Sam, suddenly extremely self conscious of all the grime and sweat that accumulated, shook his head once again. “Need to, sorry.”

He went to push himself up but immediately yanked his arm to his chest.

“Ah, yes. It’s broken.”

“I can see that.”

Castiel’s face flashed with amusement at the Winchester’s sarcasm. “You sound like Dean.”

“I sound like me in pain.”

Castiel rolled their eyes, aware that Sam would have a rather irritable mood for the rest of the day. “Let me help.”

Castiel slowly helped him up, both feeling a loss at the contact breaking. Sam nearly toppled over.

“Woah, woah.” Castiel steadied him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Wait, allow me..” Castiel, feeling rested and content enough, was able to heal the bone in Sam’s arm. There was a sickly crunch heard and then a sigh of relief from Sam.

“God, thank you.”

“Not God.” Castiel stated in a way that couldn’t be easily construed as either sarcasm or honesty. Sam looked awkwardly for an answer.

Castiel simply continued their aid, walking Sam to the bathroom. Sam stayed silent, waves of self-aggression coming off him at his self-perceived weakness.

“Please understand you are a very strong fighter.”

“Mmh.” They arrived at the bathroom, sam expectantly waiting for Cas to leave.

“Cas, thank you, but… road ends here.”

“No, sam. I will allow you to shower on your own with help of the grace I just used, but I must be nearby. Your body is very… tired. Working on healing itself. You may collapse and cause yourself more damage.”

Sam’s face shone with humiliation but didn’t bother arguing. “Alright..”

Sam made quick work of the shower considering his state and emerged to find Castiel still in the same spot. Sam, at this point, looked exhausted. His face was white, eyes unfocused, and body clutching the side. Castiel quickly shot into action, supporting sam upright.

“I’m fine, cas…”

“No, you’re not.” They left no room for arguments. They placed Sam down on the bed once again.

“You must eat something. I will make food.”

Sam, in response, let out a long pained and nauseated grumble.

“I believe the proper response is thank you.”

Guilt flashed across sam’s face momentarily. “Please, don’t think I can stomach it.”

Castiel sighed. “You will eat by this evening.”

Sam nodded, relieved he had some time. “Where’s Dean?”

“Uhh, he went out. Said he needed to ‘de-stress’” Castiel emphasised with air quotes.

Sam groaned once again, nauseated at the thought of his brother hooking up. He quickly dispelled the thought. The rest of the day passed lazily, Sam drifting in and out of rest and Castiel keeping an eye on the weak boy. When night fell Castiel woke him up with a bowl of soup, which Sam accepted gracefully, but only ate a few spoons of.

The Angel encouraged him to eat, but Sam only managed a few more mouthfuls. Sam seemed distant after being woken up, all the edge and irritation having left his body.

Castiel picked up on this. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam attempted to bat the question away, but it ate up inside of him. He had to know. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Castiel’s eyes widened in shock. “Why- why would I?”

Sam scoffed, hurting. “You know why.”

“Sam, I won’t let lucifer take you. Dean won’t let them take you.”

“Bullshit.” Sam averted his eyes, choosing to look at the window. “Dean knows I’m going to fail. He’s said as much.”

“Dean lashes out when he’s angry. We’re all afraid, but Sam.. you have free will. Please, trust that I will do everything in my power to save you.”

“I shouldn’t have to be saved, Cas!” Sam was swallowing thickly to counteract the tears threatening to cloud his voice. “I am dark, and twisted, and evil enough to be lucifer’s true vessel! What the hell could be so wrong with me?!”

“It’s all to do with your blood, Sam. That’s all.”

“I make the choices, Cas. Dean’s Michael’s vessel, heavens and earths saviour. I drag everyone down. It’s not fair.”

“I know, Sam..”

“I prayed every day! I volunteered, I’ve saved so many lives, hell- I’ve given up my life for strangers! Why am I such an abomination?”

“Sam, this was not up to you. Never about you.”

“You should have let me bleed out, Cas. I was relieved.”

“Don’t you dare.” Castiel’s voice went gruff and low, threatening.

“I was glad.”

Castiel broke and their voice boomed, the room around them shook. “For heavens sake, Sam Winchester! I fell for you! I have put all of this work into freeing the two of you from the grasps of fate, had everything I know turned upside down, and you were just going to take it without a thought?!”

“Why do you stay if I’m such a fucking burden, Castiel?”

“Because-“ their eyes went frantic, searching the room for something to steel them against the truth.

“Because?” Sam pushed.

“Because- because from what I understand about human emotion, I love you, Sam!” Their face was a picture of shock, not having wanted that to come out willingly.

“You do?” Sam’s voice sounded weak, young.

Castiel exhaled anxiously. “Yes.”