Sam had went to Stanford. The family business had been left far, far behind. When he had made the leap from East Coast to West Coast he had hoped it would stay that way. No death, no blood, no crime.
He was ready to be a boring lawyer with a boring family and die a boring death. Hopefully from an ailing organ or some kind of disease. Old people things.
Half these thoughts went out the window when Castiel wandered into his life, quite literally as he mistook his dorm room for his own in a drunken haze. He spoke nothing but broken, disoriented Russian before puking in the corner and passing out on his bed. It had been a terrifying experience, and Sam wouldn’t be able to speak honestly if he were asked if Cas hadn’t almost been greeted with a bullet to the head. It had still been early in his college career, and he had been easily startled due to paranoia of being dragged back to the family and made an example of.
Sam was a deserter. And the mob didn’t look down kindly on those who turn their backs on the family.
That had been two years ago. Cas had been highly apologetic upon waking up, offering to take him to breakfast and to clean up the mess he had made. He actually did a decent job for a guy that was still hungover enough to stagger into Sam more than a few times (though looking back, some of those had to be intentional. The mob would have even been impressed. Cleaning up a crime scene was half the battle, and there hadn’t been a fiber out of place when the exchange student had finished.
Breakfast had gone better than Sam could have ever expected. Cas was funny, smart, and had a mouth that just promised trouble. He never had thought he would be able to find someone to match his sass line for line. They talked about family, with Sam saying he had lived in New York for most of his life, and had only recently come to California. He didn’t have any family, and was ready to settle down in a new place. Cas had a similar background. He had come to Stanford as an international student, having nothing to tie him to his home country.
Meetings became a weekly thing, and very quickly a daily thing before Sam confessed to Cas he had liked the other, and dating followed shortly. It made him feel alive again, willing to take risks and be reckless with his hard earned freedom. It scared him a little. But not enough to stop.
Though now looking at his boyfriend, bound and gagged on his laptop screen, he wished they had. The camera quality was awful, but he knew it was him. Not even grainy footage could disguise the dark, ruffled hair or blue eyes that Sam had come to adore.
“We shouldn’t have gone to that baseball game. Ignored the kiss cam at least… oh god Cas..” Sam whimpered, wanting to do nothing more than to kiss the other until the look of fear had disappeared. He hoped Dean and John would be gentle. He would come back if they were-
an unfamiliar man crossed into the camera’s view, causing Cas to yell into his gag and jerk around in an attempt to escape. With how genuine the fear was in Cas’s eyes, he had to have known the other.
He tore his eyes away as he heard the punishment begin, pulling out his phone and entering Dean’s number. The screen became a bright blur as Cas’s muffled screams brought tears to his eyes.
The mob hated deserters. Sam never thought he could bring up that fear with Cas. In a dream world, he would have discovered that Cas was the one person that could have understood what Sam was feeling more than anybody. But it wasn’t. All he could hope that if he begged forgiveness that his family would be more merciful than Cas’s.
(I want to say sorry, but angst is my jam… so I’m sooo not)
NOOOOO!!!! Where’s the rest of this?!?! Oh god, Romeo and Juliet the mob! This is so awesome, I love it so much. NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR ANGST! My heart, just amazing. You got me so worried and tortured. Wow
The apartment at the end of the hall was both comfort and torment for Castiel Vienatve. No, Castiel thought to himself, that was imprecise, because the apartment itself was immaterial. It was the man who lived in the apartment who caused both comfort and torment in the introverted, socially awkward former pilot.
Comfort, he felt, because the man was an angel. Well, probably not a literal angel, as years of involuntary Catholicism had left him with the impression of angels as divine automatons, following God’s will without thought or motivation of their own. But if true angels existed in the world, made of the love God felt for all of his children, then surely Sam Winchester must be one of them. He was kind, always having a friendly smile and a helping hand for any of his neighbors, Castiel included. He was gentle despite his greater height and broad, strong shoulders, treating children and animals kindly without being condescending and always considerate of physical or verbal cues for personal space.
And he was agonizingly, infuriatingly gorgeous, whether pressed into a three-piece suit and tie, or sweat-slicked in shorts and a singlet from his morning run, or even wearing muddy jeans and ragged flannel with his hair full of leaves and brambles. It was the last that caught and held Castiel’s attention now, blue eyes wide as he stared at the approaching figure which looked very much like he had been rolled down a muddy embankment and into a blackberry thicket. And then Sam looked up, and Castiel was treated to the sight of that weary countenance melting into a sheepish smile that showed dimples beneath the dirt and stubble.
Unfair! shouted his brain.
Please? whispered his heart.
What actually came out of his mouth was, “That must have been quite a trip.”
If Castiel had thought that bashful smile full of dimples was unfair, it was nothing compared to the full on beaming grin that spread across Sam’s face in answer to his words. He very nearly swallowed his tongue when Sam laughed, the sound bubbling up like some sort of fountain made of joy and sound, and oh, God above, there was no way this man could still be mortal and also be real.
“Yeah, things kinda went sideways on us,” Sam was saying as Castiel wrestled his brain and heart back under control. “The good news is, the horse survived. The bad news is, Uncle Bobby’s old truck didn’t.” While Castiel was trying to figure out what a horse had to do with anything, no matter how glad he was that it had apparently survived its recent ordeal, Sam shoved a hand back through his hair and grimaced. “Not sure my hair survived, either.”
“Need some help with that?”
The surprise that crossed Sam’s face coincided with the realization that Castiel had said that out loud. Castiel cringed internally as he felt the all too familiar heat suffusing his face the way it so often did around Sam. He floundered, casting around desperately in his unhelpful brain for something to say that would make the situation less awkward, when Sam surprised him yet again with a new kind of smile, one that looked to Castiel to be some sort of cross between hopeful and pleased.
“Really?” he asked. Castiel could almost swear the man had sprouted puppy ears and a wagging tail to go with those eyes. “I mean, I was just going to try and wash as much off in the shower as possible and hope the barber wouldn’t have to cut too much off tomorrow, but if you’re serious–”
“I’m completely serious,” Castiel found himself breaking in, and he meant it. It would be a crime to see that normally soft mane of chestnut hair chopped short because of a few brambles. That, however, was probably not something he should admit to Sam’s face, and so he added, “And I would not mind hearing more about the predicament of the horse and how you came to its rescue.”
“I guess it’s only fair to tell you why you’re probably going to be pulling half a blackberry patch out of my hair,” Sam said with a return of that dimpled grin that made Castiel’s knees feel significantly less solid. He glanced at the sealed envelopes still clutched, forgotten, in Castiel’s hand, and asked, “Do you have time now, or were you on your way out?”
“Just got back,” Castiel lied, lifting the post that could honestly wait another few hours before they had to be in the post box for the carrier to pick up. “Just let me toss these on the table and hang up my jacket and I’ll be right there. Three-oh-seven?”
“Three-oh-seven,” Sam confirmed with a nod as he turned to head down the hall. Casting another bright grin over his shoulder, he added, “I’ll be waiting!”
Castiel felt that he could be forgiven for just dropping the post on the table and flinging his jacket across the nearest chair in his haste to get out of his apartment so as not to keep Sam waiting for long.
Just this once.
Cas messing with Sam’s hair is one of the CUTEST THINGS EVER. Thank you so much for this lovely pining fluff with a whiff of reverse!verse! ❤
Sam knew he shouldn’t be here that it was forbidden for him to travel into the mortal realm but he couldn’t stay away.
Not from him.
Hidden in the tree Sam parted a couple of leaves as a soft smile appeared on his face as he watched the mortal known as Castiel.
All around Castiel were human younglings listening in awe as the man weaved a tale of a brave prince, his loyal knight and the dragon they befriended as they battled evil after evil saving the innocent no matter what the cost to them personally.
That is what had drawn Sam to Castiel the great story teller, he had always been interested in humans even though it set him apart from the rest of his kind well all but his brother Dean. But Sam didn’t care he knew that humans were not perfect and long ago sought to destroy all those of magic but surely they have changed.
“Mr Castiel?” One of the young girl’s asked raising her hand.
A soft smile appeared on Castiel’s face one that made Sam’s heart flutter. “Yes, Jo?”
“Do you believe in magic and creatures from your story?” Jo asked interest in her eyes and in her voice.
Castiel’s smile turned a little sad as he glanced at the tree that had Sam hidden in and Sam ducked down a little more afraid that he had been seen.
“I do believe in magic and creatures such as fairies, dragons, mermaids and so on. All myths and legends have some truth to them. I am afraid that long ago humans feared what was different and drove them away.” Castiel explained to his group.
The other small blond Ruby let out a huff, “Well that was stupid of them. Do you think that they will ever come back?”
“I do.” Castiel said with such certainly that Sam felt his heart beat all the faster. “We just have to show them that we have changed and would happily welcome them.” Castiel’s voice rose a little bit as he said his next part, “Who knows there might be one right here now say a fairy who loves to come to our story time and listen in to the stories. And maybe someday they will show themselves to us and tell us their own tales letting us get to know them and them to know us.”
Sam felt his wings flutter yes he would like that and held onto the hope of someday close to his heart.
(I wrote way, way, way too much. It took me a while. Anyway, the idea behind the AU was that it was sort of meant to be an AU where Cas was a superhero, and Sam was a mostly ordinary citizen. Then, I decided to reflect canon, like a lot. so Angels are like symbiotes, instead of angels, and possess people and are similar to canon, except they’re alien, but like I don’t know. and Hunting is public knowledge, but hunters are consider heroes, and usually have powers, and in this AU angels are one of those methods of which people have powers. Also, Brady is fucked up and creepy in this. Well, I tried my best. I hope it’s at least even somewhat enjoyable. I think will do something shorter tomorrow.)
Sam was doing his daily morning jog, when he passed by the billboard, he passes them every day, but this one in particular, usually reserved for something about heroes, stopped him still. There, today, on the billboards, was an advertisement for HEAVEN in custom font, smooth, thick, black letters over their many-eyed logo, and beside ‘HEAVEN,’ was a new photogenic man, bright green eyes, freckles, plush lips in a smirk, male model features, and uncharacteristically, in a dark and elegant suit. That was.. Dean. And he was the new Michael Sword.
Sam left the family business, and Dean went straight to the top of it, obviously. Sam remembers their draconian childhood, no, training. They were treated more soldier than child by John, no matter how much he loved them. The family business was hunting the monsters that came out at night, and hid in the daylight, that all of humanity knew and feared, ‘heroing,’ as the public like to call it, although Sam and Dean and John were the furthest from typical hunters, furthest from what the people might imagine as ‘heroes’, and despite being probably some of the best, they kept themselves obscure. Most people who hunted had powers, or had unearthly patrons providing them the power and know-how. But the Winchesters didn’t have any of that. They had vengeance, and if you’re a Winchester, you don’t need much more. John was primarily after the thing that killed the mother that Sam couldn’t even remember, but they hunted anything as long as it wasn’t human, and caught their attention in a bad way. Sam couldn’t stand it, the traveling, and the not fitting-in, and feeling like he didn’t even fit into his family’s black and white morality shaped world. So, he left for Stanford, after an argument with John, and he left, tears in his eyes as he told Dean, “Goodbye, I hope… I can see you again, Dean. But without all this..” But Dean couldn’t even look Sam in the eye, or maybe he did, and Sam didn’t see. Sam doesn’t like thinking about it.
HEAVEN was one of the biggest agencies of Heroes, they supported heroes until they eventually fully recruited them, and offered them an Angel, a symbiotic life-form, which would give them powers strong enough to take care of anything they might encounter. HEAVEN had great publicity, when you said anything about, ‘hunting monsters.’ They’d think about the glamorous and powerful HEAVEN, and all the great things HEAVEN has done, and all the lives it’s saved and improved. They’d think about their beautiful, saviors, ‘Trickster,’ ’King’s Knight,’ and, ‘Recovery,’ and more, and the most legendary of them all, ‘Michael Sword.’ The other Angels didn’t even compare to Michael, experiencing symbiosis with Michael and becoming the, ‘Michael Sword’ was a great honor, only capable for the most righteous of men.
Sam had heard that the former Michael Sword retired but, he never would have imagined that.. Dean. But it’s perfect for Dean. Dean always thought of himself as a hero, and Sam always thought Dean was one at heart, and so Sam’s glad Dean’s had the chance to follow his dreams, and feels a welling of pride for him.
It’s sad that Dean didn’t call Sam to tell him, but Sam understood. Sam was scared to call too.
But there was something off about the photo of Dean, and Sam’s hoped it was just photoshop.
He wasn’t expecting the billboard, and memories, nor the vision of following a man at night, in a dimly lit parking lot, and reaching out to grab the man, and electrocuting him, burning flesh with a single touch of his hand and chars the man to the bone, and ozone overwhelms his nose– that sent him crumpling back against some public fence, his head feeling like it encountered a freight train, and with squinting eyes, he checked his hands for the sparks he swore he could still feel tingling in his fingers.
God, these weren’t nightmares anymore. And he was beginning to suspect they never were, with the way they were matching death’s in distant ‘local’ news papers, and something dark and guilty settled in his stomach reading each one.
He took out his burner phone, and dialed HEAVEN’s emergency line. Please, be Dean, please, don’t be Dean, please, be Dean, please, don’t be–”State the emergency for HEAVEN?” A rough, raspy voice asks, far too tired and jaded, and really, more attractive and different than Sam’s limited preparation set him up for. It’s not Dean, that’s for sure.
Sam kept his voice level, years of making calls, real and fake are excellent practice, but he can’t help some of the frightened exhaustion leaking in. “I think a murder is going to happen at-at,” Sam just describes the parking lot, details, and his own conclusions that speak of past experience of identifying locations with limited information, “So, I think it might be somewhere there,” The man scoffs doubtfully on the other end, Sam ignores it, “The man has powers. Electrical. He could burn a man with just a touch. It’s going to happen–” It looked mid-day, and considering its location, “In about 4-6 hours, and I think it can be prevented. Look, I know this is–”
“Unconventional,” the voice on the other end, finished for him, and Sam can’t find it in him to be annoyed at the sound of the phone-line voice completing his sentence. “Consider HEAVEN on it. Can I ask your name, and how you know this? It’s–”
“Unconventional,” Sam echoed, “Yeah, I know. It’s not easy for me either. Just, consider me an anonymous tipster.” The voice on the other end breathes, and Sam, trepidation building in the back of his mind, Sam pleads, “Please,” before hanging up, his hands definitely not shaking as he slid his phone back into his pocket.
This doesn’t have to be his life. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. Sam got out, somebody else can deal with it.
Sam finished his jog, and then, went home to have an aspirin or two and wait.
Sam should try to sleep off the pain in his head, but he can’t, not until.. On the news, he sees an agent of HEAVEN, ‘Thursday,’ Thursday apparently took down the powered man with electrokinesis as he was attempting to murder a man. Sam sighs and his tension deflates. The man on HEAVEN’s emergency line took him seriously. Nobody died, not this time.
It became a part of Sam’s routine, receiving a horrible vision, sometimes too late, sometimes, just in time, and calling HEAVEN’s Emergency line, and it’s always the same man. The same man who asked him questions every time, at first, questions about his identity and suspicions about Sam’s knowledge, but Sam doesn’t let it get to him.. Sam is suspicious, untrustworthy, possibly even a dangerous person.. And the man still believed him anyway, consistently. Sam can’t make sense of why, but he’s thankful.. But soon the man, changed his questions, asking about Sam’s days, and how he felt, and asking whether Sam was taking care of himself. It was nice, like a blanket you didn’t know you needed to deal with the constant chill.
And he would tell Sam when Thursday got to the scene. Thursday is the hero that always goes out to the scenes Sam describes to Cas.
And Sam’s learned some things about the man too, like, his name is Castiel, and the way his harsh voice softens with kindness and concern is beautiful. Castiel doesn’t like talking about his job much, but he admits to Sam, that he thinks most of his coworkers can be thoughtless, unquestioning machines, that the employees of HEAVEN don’t actually agree with the values that are core to the agency.
Sam felt honored to be trusted with the knowledge. Castiel seemed so uncertain of himself, sharing it. It was a spur of the moment reply, but Sam would have said it every time, “Castiel, I promise I won’t tell anybody. You can tell me anything, call me anytime. You’re my friend.” Castiel doesn’t ever really gasp, but he holds his breath, and that’s what he did then. Castiel ended the call that time.
—-
Castiel disliked this part of HEAVEN, waiting at a desk, waiting for a call, a prayer, an order. He disliked the way Zachariah runs this branch of HEAVEN. Castiel disliked a lot of HEAVEN, not that he’d ever say any of it loud. Castiel knew the consequences.
Castiel was apart of the recent mission inducting a Dean Winchester into experiencing symbiosis with Michael, fulfilling his destiny in becoming the ‘Michael Sword’… It was unpleasant, among other things. It had jaded Castiel.
On one of the days that blend into millennia, one of the HEAVEN’s Emergency phone lines ringing. Castiel’s, to be exact. “State the emergency for HEAVEN?” He asked tiredly.
A voice answered, even and composed, “I think a murder is going to happen at-at,” and the man continues with thought and consideration, painting a scene as if it’s happened inside his head, but there’s unsurety towards things like location, “So, I think it might be somewhere there.“ Castiel scoffs, this is the most suspicious call he has ever recieved besides that one time ‘a pizza-man’ was on the other end, and besides that, is this the sort of emergency HEAVEN is required for? “The man has powers. Electrical. He could burn a man with just a touch. It’s going to happen–” The man on the other takes a breather, and Cas found himself unexpectedly drawn to the steadfast cool in his voice, “In about 4-6 hours, and I think it can be prevented. Look, I know this is–”
“Unconventional,” Castiel says, sarcasm in his voice recognizable only to a limited few. Castiel wants to do it, to Castiel, that’s the more unconventional thing. “Consider HEAVEN on it.”
But Castiel is still curious, even against his symbiote’s inner nature, “Can I ask your name, and how you know this? It’s–”
“Unconventional,” The man replied drily, just as Cas had done. “Yeah, I know. It’s not easy for me either. Just, consider me an anonymous tipster.” Cas lets out a frustrated breath.
“Please.” Hung-up. Hung up the phone and Cas on that desperate note, hears that thing that had been threading all through the man’s voice the entire time, distress. Cas guiltily found himself admiring the man, and the voice, more than ever.
Castiel goes out immediately to investigate, and found it happening exactly as the voice recounted. Castiel stops the man, Scott Carey, and takes him to the HEAVEN’s interrogation facilities. Castiel is displayed on the news, as Thursday, the hero identity HEAVEN chose for him, taking down the man.
The anonymous tipster called frequently, with more yet-to-be’s and existing crime scenes. Castiel shouldn’t have been so curious. And Cas goes out as Thursday and Cas always find something, whether it’s in progress or all that’s left. It drives so many questions into Cas’ head. Who is he? Where does he get his information from? Castiel should have reported him a long time ago, to Zachariah. But for as long as Castiel had two thoughts, this would stay with Castiel and that voice.
Castiel’s interest in the man developed into other areas, so he asked different questions. Worse, it grew into concern. These ‘visions’ as the voice called them, seem to take a toll on the young-sounding man. This led the calls into conversations.
Which is unfortunate. Because Castiel hated that voice. It’s calm, conjures the kind of person you could share secrets, and stresses, and intimacies with, reassuring and gentle, and the way his voice raises with his hopes, it’s too nice to hear.
Castiel admitted things to that damned voice, things he would never say to anybody else. The genuine, honest way the man spoke, lured him like a siren to bad decisions. Well, not a literal siren.
Somebody, a coworker was talking while he was on the phone, “Wow, Castiel, not scowling when he’s on the phone? Wonder who he’s talking to.”
Castiel doesn’t take his hands off his phone, or move it from it’s position, but he glares at Hester before he returns to his call. “So, your name is Castiel,” There’s a hint of awe in the way he says the name, “It’s pretty. So, I-I mean, so, you’re one of the Angels?.. I would love to ask you about–I mean, it’s just I’m worried about my brother, if it’s something bad, I’m sure I’d have a vision about it.” That remained cryptic, no matter what blunt way Castiel asked.
But in return, Castiel learned the man’s first name. Sam. Simple. Not uncomfortable. Castiel liked it too.
One day, Sam called him twice in a row. Once to share a vision, and then, the second time. It’s not clear at first. But Sam is shaken, alone, and all he is requesting is Cas’ voice. And Cas was happy to talk ‘til his throat is sore for this cause.
Cas thinks he embarrassed himself when he starts accidentally flirting with Sam. Castiel has no idea how such a relationship would even be feasible, or happen. But Sam laughs, and he feels a little less bad about it.
Eventually, Sam has to go to sleep, and Castiel offers to keep the phone on and listen, but Sam denies the help. Castiel would have like to listen to his breathing as Sam slept. It’s very disappointing. It’s a reminder that he shouldn’t feel this much, or that way. It’s also a reminder, that he doesn’t care about should or shouldn’t right now.
—
Sam was having a really nice day, the kind he came to Stanford for, but then came along a vision of some poor girl coming across her fiance’s bloody remains, more scattered gore, than any recognizable human shape, and the frantic panic attack she went into until she blacked out. It was horrible to experience, and he knew it must have been even worse for her… Or was going to be. He can’t quite always discern the time the visions take place at, but he thinks a lot of them can be prevented from coming to pass. And all he was doing is making a phone call. He’s not doing enough.
Sam opened his phone again, went to the number and hovered, he and Castiel didn’t even use HEAVEN’s emergency line anymore, he was so weak, eventually gave in and tentatively pressed the ‘Call’ button..
“Sam? Are you okay? We’re already looking for the girl… Did you have another vision?” Sam feels bad about making Castiel worry for him, feels bad for wanting to hear Castiel’s voice. “Sam, please, talk to me,” Castiel said, his voice commanding, and it’d be scary, really, if Sam couldn’t hear the concern under it. Sam has to answer, “I’m okay, Cas. I didn’t have another vision.. I just wanted to hear your voice…” Sam trailed off, he didn’t want to explain more, all the weighty things in his head and heart, he can’t just keep dumping it on people like he always does.
It’s a miracle, because Castiel paused, as if analyzing what Sam just said, and then he goes back to talking as if Sam said nothing at all, didn’t request Sam to talk, just shared inanities, updates on heroes, complained about watching netflix alone, before apologizing for even saying that. Sam laughed at that. Castiel on the other end, bashfully chuckled, and talked some more, in that enthrallingly raspy voice, until Sam admitted he was nodding off, which was quite an achievement because he was having insomnia and nightmares together like a combo meal. Castiel offered to stay on the line while Sam slept, but Sam declined, not wanting to waste even more of Castiel’s time. Sam wasn’t going to pretend that Castiel sounded disappointed when he hung up. Sam feels better, just having Castiel as his friend through the phone. Wanting more than what he already had was what his greedy twelve-year old self would be doing.
Which leads him to now.
—
Sam is making toast.
And, then, he’s burning hot, and his barking laughter is long and malicious. Jess is crying and confused, her blonde hair is splayed all over her face, and she’s trembling against the dorm wall, pinned with an easy extension of force, and easier to raise her to the ceiling but.. First, he wants to see her beg. And she does, “Wh-what’s happen-Oh my god, Brady! Please-please, let me go! I don’t understand–Can’t you –Help me! Don’t do this, please. I-I-I– I can’t– Oh God. Pleapleasepleasepleasepleas–!” He’s pretty sure his eyes are more than black now, and the snarl he’s making isn’t even humanly possible, and his barking more intermittent howling, but it’s satisfying getting to reveal the monster he really is. Her expression of fear is porn-perfect. Jesus fuck. He’ll want to remember this for years, especially her face as it burns. How did little Sammy never fuck her, he wonders. He raises her body to the roof, and watches the plumes of fire surround her, flame flaying her ski—
Sam frantically unplugs the now smoking toaster, and there’s smoke and tears pricking at his eyes.
Sam sounds distantly calm as he recites the horrific details and facts of the vision, describes the demon, leaves out its resemblance to other things in Sam’s history, and Jess’ location within the vision, which was just her apartment. Sam had been over a few times. Castiel assures him, Thursday will be on the scene. Sam hangs up.
It’s sudden, Sam remembers the digital wall clock hanging in her room. That’s-That’s thirty minutes from now. He’s not sure Thursday can make it in time. He feels foolish for not mentioning it. Sam’s going to have go himself.
Sam was a fool to think he could escape the family business forever.
Sam still has the exorcisms memorized, and he blesses the water, easily into holy water. He remembers Dean calling him ‘a natural, his genius little brother,’ full of pride and cheer. While John looked on, not really seeing them and seeing his two sons too clearly, all manner of miserable emotions on his face, and none of them pride.
Sam takes a marker, too, but he’s not sure if he’s going to have enough time to draw a Devil’s Trap.
Sam isn’t aware when it happened, but he’s standing in front of Jessica’s door. He knocks. No time to waste. Jessica answers the door, and he wishes he could smile because she’s not dead yet. He peeks around her, Thursday doesn’t seem to be anywhere near. That’s okay, Sam’s prepared to do it himself.
Jessica invites him in, and Sam smiles at that, like Dean had taught him to. Dean is better at smiling when he doesn’t mean it, but Sam has dimples.
“It’s good to see you, Sam, are you okay? I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”
Sam cuts straight to the point, he’s not going to lie to Jessica. “There’s a demon on the way here, I think it’s possessed Brady.” Sam doesn’t want to think about how long Brady’s been possessed. Did he even remember to mention Brady to Castiel? Sam’s not sure.
Jessica’s expression falters and there is fear in her eyes, but she’s still cool-headed. “So, I suppose you called HEAVEN?” Sam nods. “Are they going to get here on time?” Sam speaks to that one, “No, but, we can prepare for the demon. Get your carpet, we’ll need it to cover up the Devil’s Trap.” Jessica doesn’t ask him any questions just does as he says.
Sam draws the Devil’s Trap, in red marker, the kind that’s permanent-permanent. As his hand draws, not shaking, hasn’t shook in a long time, he’s singing the exorcisms in his head like a song, a habit. Sam smiles up at Jessica as she hands him the shag carpet, which he places on the Devil’s Trap and smoothes out the wrinkles of the carpet, anything to make it look like it wasn’t a hasty attempt to hide a Devil’s Trap..
There’s a knock at the door. Sam knows who it is. Sam opens the door, sees the face of his friend, and watches a demon walk in. His eyes are black as soon as he realizes. “Oh, Sammy.” Sam operates on rehearsed instinct, splatters the holy water at Brady, not Brady, the demon, hears the sizzle, and Sam says the exorcism perfectly-it goes perfectl– A blow to the back of his head, and he’s tumbling, and Jess’ eyes aren’t green, but black.
And Jess speaks, “Oh, Sammy, you’re probably wondering now why the vision lied. Well, they’re demonic in origin. Congratulations. Yellow Eyes altered this one specifically, just for you. Oh, Yellow Eyes? He’s the demon who killed your mother. John Winchester’s white whale. You wonder why you’ve always felt different? Demon blood in those veins. Yellow Eyes gave that to you too. Wonder why Daddy didn’t love you? He knew. Big brother hasn’t been calling? He’s learned the truth about his little monster brother. This is your destiny, darling. And you’ve got to a lot to learn. Consider this the first day of the rest of your life.”
Sam wants to ask questions. Sam wants to get up. Sam wants a lot of things.
Sam remembers things too. Sam remembers demons lie, and sometimes, they don’t. Sam remembers a rough estimation of his internal clock too. Sam remembers hope too.
The windows, glass and electronics, it all shatters, the room is dark.
The light, too, is spectacular and out of nowhere. Holy and alien, at once.
The demons curse, as they are burned out, by something more than they are.
Two hands grip him by both shoulders, and he finds himself lifted easily like he wasn’t a six foot plus man, and leaning into a handsome man. Thursday.
It’s really cliche, but Sam wants to kiss the lips of his rescuer.
Thursday speaks and it’s Castiel’s voice. “Are you okay? You weren’t described by–”
Thursday, or Castiel, looks at him, listens to him.
“Wait, you’re Sam? You’re Sam, with the grating voice.” Sam would be offended, if it weren’t filled with so much fondness.
Sam smiles, and it’s not even a portion of the excitement and adrenaline he feels. “And you’re Thursday, and.. And Castiel. I should have seen this coming.” Sam, honestly, wants to kiss him more now.
Castiel doesn’t smile, but Sam can see it anyway, “You should have, considering how many times you foresee things.”
Sam doesn’t want to say what the demon told him, he doesn’t even know if it’s true.
Castiel’s oceany eyes focus on Sam, and then, his face turns unpleasant. Sam really doesn’t want any more bad news. It’s not exactly been a good day.
“Are you Dean Winchester’s brother?”
Sam sees no point in lying, what if.. “Yeah-Did something happen to Dean? Is he okay? What’s happened?”
Castiel looks ashamed, “Something.. Much worse than I had realized. I hope you can forgive me, one day. And HEAVEN has something similar in mind for you.”
There are too many possibilities to even contemplate, yet Sam’s mind is already running through all of them.
“We have to go, Sam.”
“What?”
It’s full of exasperation when he says it, but it’s also desperate, “Just trust me. I have a lot to lose by helping you.”
Sam does trust him, trust that voice he’s heard over the phone, trust in the voice, that has trusted him again and again. Even if Castiel has something that needs to be forgiven, they can still go save Dean, and Sam will forgive him anything then.
Castiel touches Sam, with a few fingers to the forehead, and then. They’re gone, vanished.
Oh, anon that was brilliant! Castiel and Sam slowly falling in love, Castiel risking everything to save Sam. I could read more and more of this story. Thank you so much for righting this.
From the moment Jack had laid eyes on Sam, he had seen it. There were tangles of Grace wrapped around the burning brilliant light that made up this person, Grace that matched what pulsed inside him and other Grace that matched what he had Felt while still inside his mother, the Grace she had told him belonged to Castiel.
“Father?”
The man denied the title, yet he still knew his name, the name his mother had whispered into his heart with her dying breath. The man felt fear, and there was thunder and anger, and so Jack fled, looking for his Father, for Castiel… and the man came for him again. Sat with him in the small room with three walls and a line of metal bars. He felt fear, but he spoke with and even voice that kept the fear behind a wall of kindness. Gentleness. He spoke of Castiel with warmth, and with pain, admitting to Jack that his Father (not Lucifer, though now Jack wondered if that was the name put to the other Grace, the Grace within him that matched the other traces inside Sam which were different from Castiel) was dead.
When the angels came, their Grace harsh and hostile against his own, Jack was not so overwhelmed that he was unaware of how Sam reacted to protect him from the angels despite their greater strength and power. The banishing sigil that Sam used felt so strange, pulling at that deeply-rooted part of him that was an angel as if it might rip him in two, but Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded him, helped him focus and pull himself quite literally back together. The blade that other angel shoved through his chest hurt, but not as bad as hearing Sam’s brother talk about killing him had. If an angel blade couldn’t kill him, though….
He kept those thoughts to himself, even as he watched the burning pyre where his Mother and his Father’s bodies lay and listened to Sam explain what people might say at funerals. Saying goodbye seemed like it would be a good thing to do, but the words got caught behind the lump in Jack’s throat over never having gotten the chance to say “hello” first. He was grateful that neither Sam nor Dean seemed to notice as they grieved the loss of his Father… their friend.
And so it went. Sam continued to help him, to teach him and encourage him. Dean continued to hold himself apart from Jack, critical and unwelcoming despite the way he stopped Jack from stabbing himself. The hole left behind in their family was imperfectly filled by Jack, but he knew it was an imperfect fit, though he had no idea how he could make himself fit better, or even if he should. Even with the fighting that he couldn’t help but overhear, Jack didn’t truly understand what it meant for Sam and Dean that his Father was dead… until he wasn’t.
Castiel’s return showed Jack just how much he had missed, how much he had been acting on incomplete information. Watching Castiel and Dean interact was so much like watching Dean and Sam interact that Jack occasionally had to blink to be sure he was seeing the correct beings in those places. Watching Castiel and Sam just stand next to each other, however, was entirely new and different.
Sam relaxed in Castiel’s presence, the tension leaving him in a way it never had around Jack, or even around Dean when Jack wasn’t in the room. His shoulders lost some of their constant readiness, and the light inside him glowed more brightly. Castiel, by comparison, seemed to burn more brightly, his wings more animated whenever Sam was near. Jack was fascinated to watch how they would spread open whenever Sam appeared, how the tattered feathers seemed to try to fill and fluff up, how whichever wing was nearest to Sam seemed to try and curl around his larger frame in a way that made Jack think of a hug. Jack started trying to mimic those gestures, just a little, but his own wings were still very small and didn’t have very many mature feathers.
When the man died on the case, when he realized that the greatest threat to his Father and his Dad was himself, when Jack realized that he would have to leave to protect them, he hoped that by the time he had control of his powers enough to not be a danger to anyone, he could greet his family as both a human and an angel.
Jack is THE BEST. A total angel. Except not because so many angels are dicks. Sam and Cas’s alternate reactions to each other, Sam letting go to relax and Cas perking up to comfort and protect and show affection… I LOVE THIS. It’s perfection. ❤
Sam sat at the table, nursing a beer as the gentle ticking of the clock filled him with a bitter sense of longing. It had been days since Cas had laid in bed with him, even if just to watch TV. The angel had even limited even coming to his room, with most of his interactions with the angel being in the war room or library.
He and Cas had fought before. There had been betrayals, blows thrown… typical Winchester activity. But he and Cas hasn’t really had a fight while in a relationship. It had started to form during the search for Dean when the elder Winchester had been a demon. He was actually embarrassed he hadn’t considered the idea sooner. It made sense. Cas was smart and sweet, and was what Sam called a cynical optimist. He knew the world wasn’t fair, and that they were always out-gunned and out-manned, but he never left them despite that. He wanted to help make the world better, and to become better despite his mistakes. Sam could heavily relate.
How the hell was he going to recover from this? He wanted to get back in Cas’s good graces, but he still stood by what he had said about Lily. Her family had been murdered. How could he judge her quest for revenge after his whole life being shaped by the need to find the thing that had killed his mother.
“You’re still up?” Dean asked, hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, holding an empty glass.
“Yup. If I’m not sleeping, I’m not going to sit in my room alone.”
“Are you really still fighting with Cas?”
“You just got out of a fight with Cas, don’t give me that look.” Sam huffed.
“Well with you it’s different. One, the dating thing and two… you two don’t get worked up like this. It’s weird.” Dean retorted, walking over to the sink, robe flowing behind him.
“I know.” Sam said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “He just won’t talk to me. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say. I know he’s upset. I can understand why he’s upset. Sometimes it’s just difficult to be dating someone that’s lived several lifetimes longer than you, and has experiences that you don’t know much about. You don’t know where some lines or and how to avoid crossing them.”
“Tell him that. Cas is reasonable. Even though he’s upset, he still loves you. I’m sure he knows that you didn’t actually mean what he thought you meant now. Just please… work it out. Seeing you both mope around is killing me. It’s like living in the fifteen minute sad section of a chick flick.” Dean teased, raising his glass as he left the room. “Now, Cas go talk to him.” Sam overheard once Dean was out of sight.
A sheepish angel passed through the doorway moments later, sitting across from Sam, silently putting his hand over the other’s. Sam turned his hand, taking Cas’s in his. The ticking of the clock didn’t seem so lonely anymore.
Wow! This is some intense angsting! Great to get into this with a first fight to start with. I think it’s really interesting that Dean was the catalyst for their make up (it’s so fun to think about all of Dean’s layers coming together to get them to snap out of it). I really love how beautiful the last paragraph is in particular! Great start!
“It’s like living in the fifteen minute sad section of a chick flick.”
“Life and Death are deeply in love. Life gives Death gifts, and Death keeps them forever.”
Who could tell how long Castiel had known Sam? Time was inconsequential to beings of their position. If asked, they could agree on three general facts relating to the question.
One, against popular belief, Sam was older. He had been around before God, before the Darkness… had occupied the empty and roamed it for what he would describe as millennia. Cas found it odd for death to exist without life, but in a way it did make sense. Emptiness and darkness was the default of the universe without outside influence.
Two, Cas existed before Earth and before the angels, walking among the stars aimlessly. He couldn’t find much out there, only small patches of the universe responded to his touch and blossomed with life and vitality. Now he couldn’t point them out if he tried, but he still knows that somewhere in the distance his touch lingers and life continues to thrive.
Three, it was Earth where the two had finally chanced upon each other. It was rather unplanned, accidental even. Though it was a bit of a celestial hot spot at the time, a brand new creation with endless possibilities.
————————————————————————————————–
While Sam had no reference as to how long he had known Castiel, the moment itself was searing into his memory, one that he visited countless times over the course of his existence.
He had come to Earth with a bit of reluctance, acting on business rather than preference. He preferred a recluse lifestyle, given the extent of his power. Light would dim in his presence, extinguish at his touch. Stars, suns, supernovas, no matter the energy, he was able to snuff it out without any effort. However, God was a bit of a fanatical nuisance and he needed to be sure this creation of his wasn’t going to cause too much trouble for this universe. He planned on visiting, assessing the situation, and returning to the peaceful ether of the universe.
After extensive wandering he caught sight of another being walking around with a gentle expression, eyes full of wonder and excitement. Small leaves and vines stuck haphazardly from his hair, grass sprouting from the ground as his feet made contact with the moist soil. His eyes were a light, pastel green, with glints of gold and blue.
Sam watched, curiosity sparking his interest at the unfamiliar form. It wasn’t often that someone as old as him encountered something unfamiliar. He would have been content watching from a distance, not needing to engage with the new entity one-on-one to satisfy the sense of novelty he felt.
Cas had caught notice of him from the corner of his eye, turning to look at him with a gentle sense of wonder that seemed … different than the initial gleam that Sam had noticed in his eyes prior. A prickle of unease settled in Sam’s chest, nervous at the other’s reaction.
To his surprise, Castiel made his way over, stepping so light he almost floated across the ground. Sam was rooted to his spot, watching warily as the other grew close enough to touch. What could possibly happen if he touched a being so vibrant? He was too scared to discover the answer, not wanting to extinguish the curious newcomer.
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Castiel, the entity of growth and vitality,” the shorter being said, his voice light, yet gruff in a near contradictory tone.
“I’m Death, but you may call me Sam. It is pleasant to make your acquaintance.” Sam answered, lifting his hand in a half-wave as he introduced himself.
“I’ve heard much about you, I have never thought I would have the honor to meet you face to face.” Cas replied, reaching to grab Sam’s hand as the other began to lower it back down. Sam nearly jumped back at the touch, panic attacking his nerves as multiple scenarios flashed in his mind. He was quick to recover upon seeing that Cas still stood before him, bright and vibrant as before, though now wearing a puzzled expression.
“If you did hear much about me, you wouldn’t have been so careless as to grab my hand. It’s dangerous, most of what I touch withers away upon contact.”
“But I didn’t, so it seems I have nothing to worry about.”
Sam let out a single, exasperated laugh. Was this entity for real? He should be thankful to be existence, not brushing this off as if the implications were nothing. He felt a soft shift in his chest, looking at the other with a renewed sense of interest. It was less analytical than before, fueled by something new entirely.
“Would you like a gift?” Cas asked, sounding genuinely excited at the thought.
“…Yeah. I would. I don’t receive many gifts, so that’s kind of you to offer.” Sam said, tone gentle. This entity was awaking a long forgotten part of himself, and in this moment he felt young and carefree. Something he thought he was no longer capable of feeling.
Cas kneeled, digging his fingers into the ground between them, creating a shallow groove in the ground as he lifted up a portion of soil in his cupped hands, feathered clumps of dirt sliding through the cracks of his fingers. A glow of light haloed the entity’s hands, and a small sprout poked out of the soil, growing rapidly into a bright orange flower with a broad, flat face.
“It’s new. Just for you.” Cas said, pushing himself to his feet, stretching his arms towards Sam with a half-smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up shyly.
“I don’t know if I can accept… it wouldn’t fair well with me.”
“I don’t care. I want you to have it. Forever.”
Sam laughed again, choking back a strong wave of emotion the gesture managed to pull from his chest. He took the soil from Cas’s hands, watching the flower dry up. The beauty was preserved, though the life that it once held was extinguished.
From that day forth, Cas continued to give him gifts over the course of millennia, and Sam continued to keep every last one.
Amazing!!! I’m so shook. What a great au!!!!! AU’s are my bread and butter but damn, this is just so cool. I’m stunned. This is so beautiful, and I just love the thought. Actual-cosmic-beings!au is so big, i just. Wow. Stunning
Castiel had never felt guilt before until he broke the wall Death had put up in Sam’s head to keep the memories of the cage locked away.
He had hurt the man he had grown to love, the man he would die for. The man who had become his hero.
Sam had tried to hide it, hide how even now the memories affected him. Castiel couldn’t understand how Sam was still standing after all it had broken him.
He will never forget the day he found Sam curled up in a ball rocking back and forth clutching at his head begging Lucifer to stop in Enochian.
“Oh Sam.” Never had Castiel wished that he had the power to undo the damage he done. “Where are you father? Why can’t you return to at least heal him?” Castiel couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t even tried after all that Sam had done for humanity. He should have been allowed to be free from the suffering that Lucifer had done to Sam’s soul.
With the utter most care Castiel moved towards Sam.
“Samuel, I am here. I am not leaving you alone with him.” Castiel spoke to Sam in enochian.
Teary eyed Sam lifted his head to look at Castiel. “But you’re not real. This is another one of your tricks Lucifer. Using the face of the man I love to torment me.”
“I am here Sam.” Castiel sat down beside Sam and let his grace reach out and touch Sam’s soul.
A sob escaped Sam’s face he knew Castiel’s grace and he flung himself into Castiel’s arms.
Castiel let out a soft coo as he run his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I am here Sam and I am never letting you go. Do you hear me Lucifer, Sam is mine and you will never harm him again.”
—
And the angst was brought. This is f**king beautiful 💙
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 