(kinda early today as I got out of work early 😀 I hope you like cuteness.)
Neither Winchester tended to make much of his respective Birthday. Growing up on the road meant that there was little time or resource to really celebrate them. There might have been a cupcake here, or a bottle of beer there, but neither Sam or Dean had ever felt like doing much on their Birthdays. At least when they had been on the road.
But in those times when they had homes (Stanford for Sam, or Lisa’s for Dean) they had celebrated like everyone else. Now with the Bunker all to themselves, plus an angel that they were always super happy to induct into human rituals, Sam and Dean were celebrating Birthdays.
One year, Castiel wanted to surprise Sam on his Birthday. But he really didn’t know what to do. So he talked with Dean about how he should go about this. Asked Dean how he thought Cas should surprise his boyfriend on such a special day. It took some choking on beer and a few tears, but Dean managed to sensibly (just about) detail what a good Birthday surprise or two might look like.
Blowjob. Breakfast in bed (“Gotta be pancakes, with syrup and bacon. Yep. And coffee.”). A really thoughtful present that Sam wouldn’t think to buy for himself. And going out for a nice meal.
Castiel had a pretty good idea of how to go about three of those four things. But he struggled with the idea of getting Sam a present he would really want. Sam wasn’t one for accumulating things, the most he collected was books of magic and monster lore.
So Castiel decided to study Sam. Observe what he seemed to like, over the course of several weeks. He found that Sam liked beer and green salads. A good book. French cinema. New shirts. All things that Sam bought for himself as they were very everyday things.
But then one day Castiel decided to join Sam on one of his morning runs. From the Bunker, they moved into the town of Lebanon along its streets. Making their way to the place that Castiel knew had a park.
“Um, thanks for coming out with me,” Sam said nervously as he stretched in the park.
“It is nice to have done so,” Castiel replied. He kept his eyes on his surroundings and Sam, watching where Sam looked.
And then Cas saw it. Sam was looking out across the grass and paths, to several dog owners who had their hounds out for a morning walk. Looking at the dogs, Sam’s face had grown soft and fond. One particular dog recognized Sam and came over to them for head scratches.
Castiel watched the joy playing with the dog brought to Sam. And he knew what he had to do.
Two weeks later, which included a lengthy conversation with Dean and the possibility of Sam finding out about his surprise ahead of time—it was finally Sam’s Birthday.
Working through the blowjob with adept ease and bringing Sam the breakfast Dean had helped Cas make, Castiel waited until Sam had eaten, washed and dressed. Finally it was time.
They walked towards the map room, Cas with the intention of driving Sam a few towns over to a nice restaurant, supposedly, when a bark sounded through the map room. Claws scurried over the tiles and suddenly Sam and Cas were greeted by an Australian sheepdog puppy.
She wasn’t that old, but the puppy ran to Sam and started sniffing at him and yelping happily.
“Oh my gosh, Cas!” Sam scooped up the puppy into his arms.
“Happy Birthday, Sam,” Cas said.
Sam hugged Cas and the puppy.
In the weeks, months and years to come, little Roxy would become a big part of Sam and Castiel’s lives (and Dean’s). Nothing certainly beat a lazy Sunday walk in Fall sunshine.
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! ❤
(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 was so worried and excited, the nerves bubbled in his stomach and his made his hands shake but at the same time he was trying his best to keep calm. He didn’t want his date to think he was a nervous mess.
Sam had never imagined he would actually be able to get to this point. He thought Castiel didn’t care much for him, or even knew who he was, but he had accepted his offer for a date happily and, even Sam thought naively.
Sam thought about the future, maybe if this went well they could even go on a second date and then start dating officially.
You’re foolish, Sam thinks to himself, but even the chance that this might work out, that they might even have a second date is enough to keep him focused the evening.
Sam had prepared everything and he thinks, momentarily, that Castiel would think he was trying to hard or overbearing. But at the same time he might would think it was sweet and charming. Should he bring the flowers? Was that too much?
Sam stared frustratingly at the flowers he’d gotten earlier that day. He didn’t know what do and he put his head in his hands and sat on his bed.
He had exactly two hours to decide and he just wanted to crawl into bed and pretend the entire thing was a dream.
Still ran his hands over his face, sitting here would only make things worse right? Plus he didn’t want to disappoint Castiel or, worse, or stand him up.
He showered, got dressed in a the nicest shirt he could find. Sam grabbed his phone, tucked his wallet into his back pocket and tucked the bouquet of flowers under his arm and headed towards the restaurant.
***
Sam meets Castiel at a local restaurant and he could hardly believe his eyes when he sees his date.
Castiel was wearing a wonderfully bright sweater that matched his blue eyes and Sam was at loses for words almost instantly.
With nervous shaking hands Sam handed the bouquet to Castiel and watched his bright light up even brighter. Castiel stared shocked before his face broke out into a huge smile. Castiel thanked him and stared graciously at the bouquet of flowers.
They sat and Sam’s nerves quickly bubbling away as they were able to easily talk. The food was excellent for diner food and Castiel listened to everything Sam said with interest he rarely saw from anyone. Even when he talked about his love for cooking healthy food and his crime shows. Castiel smiled brightly the whole time and even talked about his favourite tv shows. The conversation was easy and just peaceful, and Sam found time flew by until the sun was setting.
They paid for dinner and Sam stood near the door, he had to walk home and he wasn’t sure how to end their date. Despite how well it went he was tongue tied but thankfully Castiel spoke up.
“Thank you Sam, I enjoyed this night a lot,” He said with another sunshine smile and Sam’s heart soared.
“I think we should go out another time,” He clutched the bouquet of flowers to his chest gratefully.
Sam smiled, he thought he misheard but he nodded rapidly, he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Castiel smiled, “I’ll message you when I’m free,”
Sam nodded, “Sounds great,” He was trying to settle his breathing because this seemed like a dream.
Castiel left and Sam let out a breath he wasn’t realized he was holding. He smiled brightly to himself as he walked home hardly believing this evening had been real.
Awwww!!!! Sam is so anxious!!! I feel you buddy!!! Like, why did I decide to do this I must have been crazy? This is so cuuuuttteee!!!! 😀
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 