Archive of Our Own

Sam writhed beneath Cas, moaning at every feather-light touch. He was lost in sweet, erotic bliss, yet his body burned with frustration. He arched, trying to bring Cas's body closer to his, against him... he never seemed to be able to get close enough. He was nearly infuriated with thwarted longing, his swollen hardness aching for release. Cas touched him, kissed him, moved against him... but even as Sam felt Cas's lips close around him, he cried out in need. It wasn't enough, it wasn't reaching him.

He rocked with Cas’s movements, clutching his hair, straining to bring him closer. He wanted him everywhere at once—in his mouth, against every pore of his skin, inside him. Please! he cried. God, please, please—

“—just FUCK ME, Cas!” Sam woke up shouting.

“Oh, COME ON!”

A pillow landed on Sam's bed, next to his head, as Dean's voice slapped Sam back to reality. He instinctively twisted to cover his lap and glanced across at Dean, surreptitiously. Dean was sitting up, the set of his shoulders radiating irritability. He gave a gruff sigh. “I can only take so much, Sam.”

There was silence then, as Sam lifted the twisted sheets to surreptitiously check himself for tell-tale stickiness. He could feel Dean restraining himself from making another sharp comment or joke, but not for long. Embarrassment burned Sam, but only briefly... he tried to hold onto it, as an alternative to the crushing heartbreak and frozen loneliness that settled on him, as soon as he was back in waking reality. Without Cas.

Dean felt it, too. The silence grew pained. Dean cleared his throat, then, uncharacteristically quietly, he gathered his clothes and slid into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Sam heard him start the shower a moment later.

Dean might have been thinking of giving Sam some “alone time;” after years of traveling together, they had a sort of unspoken code to deal with each other's needs in that way. (Unspoken by Sam, anyway— Dean was not above making a joke or harassing Sam about it.) But Sam couldn’t do it. He had already gone limp, and even the idea of thinking back on the dream, touching himself while trying to remember what he'd felt, just made him feel cold and sick.

He rolled over and clutched a pillow— the one Dean had thrown at his head. His longing for Cas grew more unbearable every day. In other ways, he felt better than he ever had. Cas had healed something in him, so far beneath the surface that Sam hadn't even known it was there. Despite the looming apocalypse, (when wasn't there one, really?) despite his grief for Bobby and fears about the future, Sam had been— well, at first he'd been downright cheerful, a state neither Winchester brother was used to, and which had freaked out Dean almost as much as Sam’s hallucinations of Lucifer had, before Cas came.

He thought back on the conversation with Dean, after he’d returned from whatever space of unreality Cas had brought him to, where he’d healed Sam and loved him. It had been one of the strangest moments in his life with Dean, and that, of course, was really saying something.

Dean had been rendered uncharacteristically speechless. Finally he’d spluttered, “You mean you… with Cas… and you actually…”

“I had sex with him, Dean.” Sam felt that this was not the most important part of the matter, but he knew he had to speak simply and bluntly for Dean to get past this hurdle.

Dean struggled with incoherency for another long moment, gripping the wheel of the Impala, his eyes darting from the road to glance sidelong at Sam, and back again. Finally, in a tone mixed of helpless curiosity, dread, and slight disgust, he burst out with, “Why?”

Sam chuckled sadly. He didn’t answer for a moment, then he said slowly, “If you could have seen it… if you’d been there…”

“GAH!”

Sam laughed in earnest then. “I don’t mean like that. I just mean… Dean, it felt really right. Like I’d always been meant for it. I dunno, I guess I always loved him.”

Sam could feel the tension in Dean, like he was going to explode at any moment. He seemed to be wrestling with conflicting impulses. Sam was relieved to see a tiny hint of a smile win the battle of his expressions.

“You know, Sammy, it’s OK to love your angel, but I dunno if you should… loo-oo-ooove your angel.”

Sam chuckled appreciatively, and there was silence for a while. Finally Dean said, “So. You’re all better now, and Lucifer’s not partyin’ in your head anymore, right? No more voices messing with you, no more hallucinations?”

“Yeah, I feel great. Totally back to normal. Like, better than normal.”

“And you think it was the sex that did it? Maybe you just really needed to get laid. Maybe if we’d found you a hot girl…”

“Dean…” Sam sighed. “I told you, it was angel healing. His grace. The sex was… well, it was my idea, for one.”

“And Cas? Did he like this idea?”

“Of course, Dean! You think I’d do it if he didn’t?”

“I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like sex was an angel thing, you know? It didn’t work out so well when I took him to that brothel. But maybe that’s why! I dunno, can angels be gay?”

“I don’t think they have a gender even, Dean, much less a sexuality. They can take either gender as a vessel, after all. I mean… I don’t exactly think of Cas as a guy, I guess. But… he says he never felt about any human the way he feels about me.”

Dean smirked. “Awww… you guys gonna get promise rings? Maybe matching his and his towels?”

And that was that. Dean had teased him mercilessly for a few days, but then had seemed to more or less forget about it. But as time went on, Sam often saw Dean looking at him worriedly out of the corner of his eye, especially when Cas’s name came up. And as he became more and more depressed when Cas did not return to them, Dean finally brought it up.

“Look, Sam. I’ve been thinkin’. You’re… better now, like the wall is back up or whatever.”

“Not back up, Dean. I could feel the wall, when it was there. Now those memories, the hell connection—they’re just gone.”

“Well, great! That’s great. But… you know, this isn’t my thing, it’s more your area really—but you know, I think maybe your mind just… healed itself.”

Sam frowned. He felt a sinking dread of what Dean would say next. “What do you mean?”

“Well… you were upset that Cas was dead, on top of everything else. Maybe it’s like, you told yourself if he were only still alive and still himself, not that scary leviathan-God thing, everything would be OK. And you had that… crush on him, or whatever…”

“It wasn’t a crush, Dean!”

“Whatever, you were carrying a torch. So then… you know, your mind thought of something that could make everything better, and it did. You thought Cas came back and… got it on with you to fix you, and so in your mind—”

“Are you saying I made it all up?”

“If it fixed you, what difference—”

“It was real, Dean!”

“How do you know?”

Sam started to shout in response, but then he was caught. The truth was that his memory of the hunter’s cabin—clean, strangely empty, with elements of it appearing only as they were needed, filled with odd, sort of celestial light—did not feel particularly real. But when he remembered Cas there, that felt real.

He rallied his argument quickly. “But then how did I get out of the mental ward? And how were my ribs all healed, and how did I get to the rest stop where you found me?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that. Lots of ways that could have happened. Like, whatever took you erased your memories of it. You could have run into a Djinn, even. And it created that scene with Cas because that was what you really wanted.”

“It wasn’t a Djinn! I wasn’t drained at all!”

“I know. I can’t explain it all, Sammy. But if Cas were alive, don’t you think he’d have found us by now?”

“He did, Dean. He found me and healed me.”

“Well, OK. It’s just… I don’t want you to hang your hopes on him comin’ back. It doesn’t seem like that’s gonna happen, so…”

“I know. I’ll deal.”

But he wasn’t dealing, Sam realized, as he reluctantly got out of bed to get dressed before Dean finished his shower. He could barely focus on the ever-present task of saving the world (again). He barely cared about getting rid of the leviathan; all he could think about was Cas, and how he had said maybe they could see each other again, once Cas’s work was done. He’d even prayed to Cas a couple of times, begging him to come back, but he’d received no answer.

Sam got an idea then, and instead of getting dressed, he powered up his laptop. He started looking for angelic portents—stories of spontaneous healing, miracles, etc. He found them almost immediately. There were many, far more than there had been when he and Dean had had reason to look for them in the past. Hope rose in him as he scrolled through the links, hoping for a description of exactly how these miracles had happened, or even who had performed them, but he stopped abruptly when the bathroom door opened.

“Anything good? Any Dick sightings?” Dean sniggered.

Sam closed the laptop quickly. He didn’t know why, but he really didn’t want to share this with Dean. “Uh, I don’t know. Just checking my e-mail.”

***

That evening, after a day of frustrating research and fruitless interviews in yet another gray, lifeless town, Sam crept surreptitiously into the alley behind the bar where Dean was drinking. He couldn't bear it anymore— the need, the crushing loneliness, the fact that he knew Cas was out there somewhere, even as he doubted. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what Dean had said. If he had learned one thing in his life as a hunter, it was that anything was possible—and what you perceived could never be fully trusted. The conflict, between the truth of what he felt and the logic of Dean's words, tore at him relentlessly. And if Cas was alive, why hadn't he come to them— to Sam?

Glancing around himself to make sure he was alone, Sam closed his eyes. “Castiel,” he prayed aloud, softly. “I'm sorry to be selfish. But I'm in need. I need you. Please...” He fell to his knees and clasped his hands, just as he had when praying as a child. “Dean... doesn't think it was real, what happened between us. When you healed me. He thinks I hallucinated you, that you're dead. I... I've started to believe him, Cas. Maybe I did imagine you, and I... I can't live with it. The world is so dark and ugly, and I don't know what to do....”

“Sam.” A gentle hand touched his face.

Sam jerked back and gasped. “CAS!”

There he was, standing above Sam in the alleyway, dressed as he always had been, including the much-abused trenchcoat. His fingers were warm on Sam's cheek.

Sam leapt to his feet. “You... you're here, you're alive! You heard me!”

“I will always hear you, Sam. And you did not imagine me, before. Healing you. I am sorry if it has been a burden to you, that Dean believes this. But I could feel that you did not believe it. I can still feel the truth in you.”

Sam loomed over Cas, clutching the lapels of his trenchcoat to drag him closer. “Why didn't you answer me before, if you could hear me? Why wouldn't you come to me and Dean?”

Cas was slow to answer. He glanced down at Sam's hands on his coat, but did not ask for release, or move to touch Sam in return. “I do not know,” he said finally.

Sam's fingers flexed; he eased his grip on the coat, and slowly, hesitantly put his arms around Cas instead, watching his reaction carefully. “Dean's not mad at you,” he said quietly. “If that's what you're afraid of. I mean, he’s not happy about the leviathan, of course, but he says that now that you healed me, you guys are square. He's still your friend.”

Cas's expression changed then, to a sorrow so deep Sam couldn't bear it; he instantly pulled Cas closer, gripping his shoulder blades. “I know,” Cas whispered, eyes haunted.

Sam completed the embrace then, pressing Cas against him, folding him against his shoulder and wrapping his long arms around him tightly. He shivered at Cas's closeness, at the solid presence of him. He buried his face in the top of Cas's head and breathed his scent, like leaves and slightly bitter chamomile, always the same. “Then why?” Sam pleaded, his lips in Cas's hair. “What are you afraid of, and what are you doing out there?”

Cas leaned into Sam's embrace, and slowly lifted his arms to return it. He pressed his hands into the solid strength of Sam's back. “I have been... trying to undo the evil, as I told you I would do. I have been... healing people. I have been following the paths... tracing the route of the evil that has come to this world since I unleashed the leviathan. The families of the people who have died... the people who had their identities stolen... there are so many, Sam. My work will never be done.”

Sam took Cas's shoulders in his hands and put him back so he could see his face. It looked intensely tormented. “That's why we're trying to stop them, Cas. If we don't, there'll only be more evil.”

“I have been working on that too, and that... that is partly why I answered your prayer tonight,” he said, a little shakily. “I... I brought you and Dean a present.” His expression brightened, pitifully and a bit forced, like a child who hopes his gift will make his parent forgive some small crime.

It was then that Sam saw that Cas was different. He perceived a strain in him, beyond the tremendous guilt he clearly felt about the leviathan. He looked... sort of ragged and desperate, his hair unbrushed and sticking up at the back. Sam, filled with concern, gripped Cas's shoulders again. “Oh, uh... Cas, you didn't have to do that...” He stopped, confused.

“Would you like to see it?” Cas brightened further, and Sam's heart wrenched.

“Uh... sure,” was all he could think to say.

Cas forced a smile and gestured to the ground next to Sam. A large gray rock, sort of a rounded rectangle a couple of feet long, appeared on the garbage-littered, cracked asphalt.

As Sam looked blank for a moment, Cas said, “I know it doesn't look like much. I was going to open it for you, but didn't have time before I answered your prayer.” He spoke like someone apologizing for failing to wrap a gift. “I don't know what's inside, but I know it is very powerful. I feel it humming away in there. And the leviathan wanted it very much. They have been digging all over the world looking for it.”

“This is what Dick Roman is after?” Sam knelt to pick it up, incredulous. “Cas, Dean and I have been trying to figure out how to get our hands on this— thank you!”

“You are welcome.” Cas looked greatly cheered by Sam's reaction. “I can open it for you, but perhaps here is not the place. Something may happen once it is revealed. I am quite sure it will, in fact.”

Sam put the rock down carefully and turned back to Cas. “OK,” he said, “thanks. Cas...”

He stepped back toward him, and Cas's cheer evaporated immediately. He looked tormented, and retreated a step, but then stepped forward towards Sam's advance, utterly conflicted.

“Cas,” Sam continued, moving forward slowly with his hand outstretched, as with a frightened animal. “What is it? What's wrong?”

Cas flinched when Sam clasped his upper arm, but then clapped his other hand over Sam's, pressing his hand into his shoulder. Then he fell forward into Sam, throwing his arms around him and clutching him desperately. “I am afraid,” he said into Sam’s shoulder.

Sam's breath huffed out when Cas embraced him. He clutched Cas tightly in return, reaching with one hand to stroke his hair. He pressed his lips to his head. “I know,” he said. “But of what? Cas... I would do anything to help you, to protect you... you know that.”

“Yes. And that is why I am afraid. Because... you love me.”

Sam jerked. “What?”

Cas held Sam even closer, moving into his body. Sam groaned softly, helplessly in response. He took Cas's face in his hands, bending over to bring his own face closer. “Why? Will it...” Sam swallowed. “Will it hurt you somehow, for me to love you? Because I... Cas, I can't stop.”

“It will not hurt me. But it may destroy you, and that I could not bear,” Cas said softly.

“It couldn't destroy me! It's healed me, Cas— more than your grace ever could, even. I've never felt better, never as whole, as after you and I were together! Except...” He paused and looked down. “I mean, I was right after, but since then... I'm OK, I just miss you so much.”

He backed Cas against the alley wall, pressing the length of his body against his. “You're all I need to be happy, no matter what else happens! And I want...” He paused, caressing Cas's face, his thumb lingering on his lips. “I want to make you happy, too... I would do anything for that...”

Cas's eyes closed under Sam's touch, and Sam could no longer resist. He kissed him, intending it to be tender and sweet, but after only a moment, when Cas clutched him and rose up against him, it turned wildly passionate. He clutched Cas's hair and pulled his head up to his, consuming him, his mouth frantic for every bit of Cas's. Their tongues tangled together as Sam thrust Cas against the wall, grinding into him, the weeks of loneliness and desperate need all tumbling down on him at once, crying for release. He broke the kiss, panting, and fell on Cas's neck, shoving aside the collar of his shirt with his chin, curling over him, kissing, biting, sucking as he fumbled to untuck Cas's shirt, desperate to touch his skin. He slid his arms up under Cas's shirt finally, gasping as he caressed the warmth of his back.

Cas struggled briefly, perhaps involuntarily, as Sam fumbled for the button of his pants, then gave up unfastening them and simply groped Cas through them, rubbing his straining erection eagerly.

“Cas,” he rasped, kissing him again briefly, sweetly. “I love you. Don't be afraid. I just want you with me... I'll do anything...” As he spoke, Sam fell to his knees, rubbing his face down Cas's torso, shoving his shirt out of the way to kiss his stomach, groping him again with one hand while reaching for the button of his pants again with the other.

Cas shuddered violently. “Sam... no...” But instead of pushing him away, he clutched Sam's hair and moaned softly.

“Yes, yes,” Sam panted, and finally succeed in unbuttoning the pants, but as he tried to unzip them, Cas gave an inarticulate cry, then:

“No!”

And suddenly Sam was alone, kneeling in the alleyway, shivering and desperate, with Cas's scent all over him, and as the loneliness crashed over him again, he wondered for a moment if Cas was right— if loving him actually would destroy him.

***

“He said the alley wasn't a good place to open it.”

“But it was a good place to make out, apparently?”

Sam sighed and took the goggles Dean handed him. Dean had run out into the alley moments after Cas disappeared and found Sam there, still on his knees.

“Sam?” Dean pulled him to his feet. “What the hell? You OK? I thought you were coming back after you called Garth!”

“Cas was here,” Sam said dejectedly, not meeting Dean's eyes.

There was a long silence. Dean cleared his throat finally. “Look, Sammy. I'm sorry. But you're starting to freak me out. God knows I wish Cas wasn't dead, too, but—”

“He was here, Dean. He left this for us. He said it was what Dick Roman was looking for.” He bent over and hefted the craggy cylinder.

Dean eyed it. “A rock?” he said. Sam could tell he was trying to keep the doubt out of his voice.

“He said what's inside is important. Like, really important. He was going to help us open it.”

“Why'd he disappear, then? He afraid to see me?”

Sam flushed and looked away. He led the way back to the car. “I don't think so. I told him you forgive him. I think he believed me.”

“Well, then, why? Hey— what were you saying 'I'm sorry' about?”

Sam winced. He forgot that Dean had heard that, Sam on his knees in the alleyway, apologizing hopelessly for driving Cas away. He cleared his throat. “Never mind. Look, we should take this thing back to our squat and—”

“Sam.” Dean stopped him at the door to the car with a hand on his arm. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! I was just— I was kissing him.” It felt weird to say it aloud to Dean, so soon afterward, the taste of Cas's mouth still in his.

Dean's face went through several emotions underneath the neutral veneer he struggled to maintain. “OK,” he said slowly. “And?”

“And things got a little... heated.” Sam clutched the rock to his chest unhappily. “I guess I scared him. I tried to take it further, and... that's when he disappeared.”

Dean stared at him blankly for a moment, then a look of horror slowly came over his face. “Wait. Is that why you were on your knees?”

Sam clenched his jaw and flushed again. Dean visibly restrained himself, and finally said, “You have no idea how weird it is to hear you talking like this— about Cas.” He shook his head and got in the car.

Sam set the rock on the floor in the back and got in the passenger side. “Dean.” He forced himself to look Dean in the eye as he started the car. “Is it weird because it's Cas, or weird because it's a guy?”

“Pick your weird,” Dean said irritably, and steered the car roughly out of the parking lot.

Sam sighed. He didn’t know how much he should try to explain, or if he should just let Dean get used to the whole idea, but he felt an aversion to letting it fester—he and Dean had been down that road before. “It’s not like I was expecting it, either. I never thought I was gay—”

“Dude, you’re so not gay.”

Sam frowned and eyed Dean speculatively. “You don’t think?”

“You ever been into a human guy?”

Sam considered, then shook his head. “Nope.”

“Still like looking at pretty girls? I know you do.”

Sam wasn’t so sure. “I can’t think of anyone else that way, since Cas.”

“You may not be able to imagine dating them, but you still appreciate ‘em. Hell, you struck a spark just a couple of days ago. Remember that pretty coroner lady? Redhead, kinda short, killer rack? Bookish, like you like ‘em.”

Sam did remember. She had been helpful, quirky and funny, and had ignored Dean’s perfunctory advances to flirt awkwardly with Sam instead. And Dean was right. There had been a spark. She was definitely cute, but in the end it had only made him miss Cas more. He couldn’t consider anyone else.

“See?” Dean said, as if he’d explained this out loud. “There been others like that?”

“Not… really. But…”

“But you still turn your head when a pretty girl walks by. And not like I’d know, but I don’t see you do that with good-looking guys. Or any guy. I don’t know what this thing with Cas is, but I’d bet good money you’re still as straight as ever.”

Sam was stunned. He hadn’t thought about it, but he’d guessed being consumed with lust exclusively for another man—or at least, someone in a man’s body, a body he had come to seriously appreciate—meant he was gay now. It didn’t matter much, but a part of him was a bit relieved, thinking it over. He was glad his image of himself was more or less intact, that he knew and had been true to himself.

There was silence for a little while. Dean seemed to be struggling to find something to say, then finally said. “So. This rock. We’re gonna need some tools; think we have everything back at the squat?”

They did, and they got it open. With all the divine omens, storms and all that had resulted, they felt pretty conspicuous, and decided it would be best not to spend the night there. They packed up quickly and drove about three hours, stopping when they found a nice, isolated, crappy hotel.

That night, long after Dean had started snoring, Sam lay awake. He couldn’t keep his thoughts from Cas. His heart beat harder, remembering the kiss, imagining if Cas had stayed and allowed him to continue. Now that he knew that he’d been right, that Cas was alive and what they’d shared was real, his need had become feverish. He forced himself to lie still, fighting the urge to just get up and go look for the angel. When had that ever worked?

He rolled over restlessly, fighting his next thought. There was one thing that had worked… but he was disgusted with himself for considering it, realizing that he’d basically be praying for sex. He wanted Cas there, desperately. He wouldn’t allow his mind to call out for him. Instead, listening carefully to Dean’s breathing so he’d know if he woke, and struggling to keep his movements quiet, he thought back on his and Cas’s time together in the cabin and began to stroke himself, hoping this dim satisfaction would bring him some measure of relief.

“Sam.”

The quiet voice, almost in his ear, made Sam yelp and struggle upright. “Jesus! Cas?”

The angel sat on the edge of his bed, gazing at Sam gravely. “Yes, Sam. I’m here.”

Sam leaned forward and embraced him tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m sorry I scared you today. I just… I missed you so much…”

Cas touched his face tenderly. “I know, Sam. It’s all right. Your impulse was… generous.” He smiled into Sam’s eyes, then leaned to kiss him, briefly and so sweetly that Sam felt his heart crack further.

Sam leaned into the kiss, embracing Cas tightly. “Then why…”

“It doesn’t matter. Lie back, Sam.”

Bewildered, Sam obeyed, clutching the lapels of Cas’s trenchcoat to bring him with him. Cas lay across him and kissed him, more heatedly than before, more aggressively than he ever had. It had always been Sam who initiated these kinds of kisses.

Sam melted helplessly, and a moan escaped his lips as Cas moved his mouth to his neck. Sam fought the sensuous closing of his eyes and glanced across the room. “But… Dean…”

“He will not wake. I put him into a deep sleep. He will hear nothing.” He slipped cool, gentle hands under Sam’s T-shirt, pushing it aside caressingly. “Lie still, Sam. I will attend to your needs.”

Sam struggled briefly, wanting to touch Cas, to make it more reciprocal. But Cas stopped his groping hands and held them down, restraining him. “Lie still,” he commanded again, his voice harsh now with breathlessness.

With a groan, Sam surrendered, wrists pinned to the bed, as Cas kissed him hard and deep. He released Sam’s wrists to undress him, seemingly impatiently. Sam opened his eyes briefly to see Cas gazing down at him with a hot, covetous gaze. His eyes, blazing blue even in the dim light of streetlights coming through the crack in the curtains, consumed Sam, roving possessively over his nakedness, settling at last on Sam’s nearly-painful erection. Sam gasped; his erection actually pulsed when Cas looked at it. He writhed as Cas buried his face in his belly, kissing the ridges of muscle, even biting briefly, which made Sam buck helplessly. Cas’s tongue explored Sam’s hipbone while his hand slid between his thighs, fondling them open. Cas nudged Sam’s knee with his shoulder, forcing his legs open further. Sam spread himself open willingly, and Cas fondled him with slow, deeply erotic intensity, his breath huffing against Sam’s thighs. When Sam felt Cas’s lips open against his tender, innermost thigh, he gasped, and groaned deeply as Cas took his balls into his mouth, one at a time, caressing with his tongue and tugging with his lips.

Sam almost came then, but held it back, riding the waves of pleasure, forcing himself to lie as still as possible. Cas moved his lips slowly up the shaft and took Sam in his mouth. His hand grasped firmly between Sam’s thighs, massaging in time with the painfully slow movements of his mouth. Sam cried out desperately as Cas sucked deeply, grasping and pulling lower with his hand, his tongue teasing and caressing. He gripped the sheets in his fists, holding back as hard as he could, forcing his hips to be still as Cas moved faster. The pleasure mounted and mounted, white-hot and nearly terrifying in its power, until finally Sam came, wildly and frantically, arching and crying out, flailing on the bed. Cas’s mouth stayed on him, still caressing, swallowing him. He finally released him when Sam at last lay still, limp and trembling, covered in sweat.

“Cas,” Sam whispered, voice cracking. “Cas, come here…” He reached for the angel’s shoulders and Cas obeyed, crawling up to lie next to Sam, who eagerly took him in his arms. “I love you so much,” Sam said, pressing Cas’s face to his shoulder, stroking his hair.

“You should not,” Cas replied in a low, sorrowful voice.

Sam felt this like a wave of cold water thrown over him. “What? Cas… why?”

“I have told you. You should not love me, Sam. I… I thought I could bring pleasure to you, ease your longing in this way. If your needs are met, it might allow you to forget about loving me. But perhaps I have only made things worse.”

Sam frowned. “Wait a second. You thought that if you got me off, I would stop loving you?”

Cas nodded, blue gaze distant. “Your need was great, and only increasing over time. Perhaps you confuse this need with love. I do not know why you do not seek pleasure with another human—perhaps that would be better—but since you will not—”

Sam flipped over to face Cas completely and grabbed his shoulders. “Cas. Listen, I know you don’t know much about human relationships, but… that hurts, man. I love you and I want to be with you. End of story. I don’t understand why you think I shouldn’t. You’re just gonna have to talk to me about it. What’s the deal?”

Cas had turned his face away when Sam grabbed him, and avoided his eyes now. “It will harm you, perhaps destroy you,” he murmured unhappily.

“Why? Are you gonna kill me? Like, if God tells you to or something?”

“No! Sam… I would never… but I can’t explain. I am an angel. You are human. We were never meant even to interact this much, let alone… all we have done. I do not know if this has ever happened. And there are reasons why it should not.”

“Cas…” Sam touched the angel’s face, turning it to him to look in his eyes. “Just… stay with us. With me and Dean. Help us figure out this tablet thing…”

“It is the Word of God,” said Cas abruptly.

Sam was startled. “What? You… knew?”

“Once you and Dean broke it open, yes. I felt it. Everyone felt it.”

Sam didn’t know if he should allow this subject change, but the urgency of the matter prevailed. “Well, can you read it for us?”

“No. But one is coming who can. I will help you and Dean protect him if I can.”

“Someone’s coming to interpret it? Who, an angel?”

“No. A human. A prophet.”

“You mean Chuck?”

“No. Another human. And he will need your kindness, Sam. He is young, and does not know what is happening to him. In fact…” His eyes grew distant for a moment, then he looked directly into Sam’s. “In fact, he is almost here. I estimate that he will try to break into this hotel room in approximately six minutes. I must allow Dean to wake.” He withdrew from Sam’s embrace and stood up.

“Wait! Cas!”

“Cas?” The bedside light came on suddenly. Dean was sitting straight up in bed, caught in the motion of reaching for a weapon. “Son of a bitch! You are here!”

“It is good to see you, Dean.”

“You too, man. Hey, did you really…” He stopped as his gaze caught on Sam, who had flushed when he realized he was completely naked, and who fumbled for the sheet to cover himself.

“HEY! Were you two…” Dean stood up then suddenly, and moved threateningly toward Cas. “You WERE!” He pointed accusingly at Cas. “You… you’re screwing my baby brother!”

“Dean! What the hell?” Sam scrambled into his boxers, having located them on the floor finally. “You knew that, what’s your problem?”

“There is no time for this. It will complicate matters if I am here when the prophet arrives. You must get him to safety, somewhere remote. As quickly as possible. He is here, and will not try to break in if the lights are on, or if he hears us talking.”

“Break in? Prophet? What’s going on?”

The lights went off, and in the darkness, Sam felt Cas’s lips brush his ear. “I will see you again soon, Sam,” he whispered, and was gone.

***

Sam was tremendously relieved that Dean now believed his story about Cas, although Dean wasn’t. Though he was glad Cas was alive, Dean now had to deal with the aspects of the sexual relationship that he was uncomfortable with—which was all of them. Sam managed to defuse Dean’s irrational, initial surge of anger at Cas for “defiling his baby brother” by pointing out the ridiculousness of it, and Dean seemed mostly embarrassed by his outburst now. Sam badgered him until he promised not to bug Cas about it the next time he appeared to them. Dean further dealt with the situation by making as many gay sex jokes as he could work in, and occasionally asking Sam inappropriate, overly detailed questions about his sex life at random intervals. After a day or two of this, though, he seemed to have more or less accepted the situation, and left Sam alone about it.

True to his word, over the next several days, as Sam and Dean traveled with the prophet Kevin and learned the key to defeating the leviathan, Cas appeared to Sam a few times, in moments when he was alone. Sam always tried to discuss a potential relationship, but Cas succeeded in distracting him very quickly. Oddly, though Sam received the greatest pleasure in these encounters, he only grew more frustrated and unsatisfied. It didn’t take him long to notice that something was missing, and he was determined to remedy it the next time Cas came to him.

It happened one night after he’d gotten in the shower. He wiped water from his face and opened his eyes to see Cas outside the glass door.

He was almost never startled anymore; although he was sometimes disappointed when Cas didn’t visit, he often thought he could feel him coming, a smoldering weight gathering in his belly whenever he knew he’d be alone soon. He smiled craftily now. This was perfect.

He turned slowly, conscious of the way the water sluiced over his body, and Cas’s eyes on it. “Hey, Cas,” he said warmly. “Maybe you should undress and join—“

He jumped a little as Cas winked out, then appeared in the shower with him, naked. There was a soft whup as his clothes hit the bathroom floor. Sam laughed gladly, and pulled Cas to him under the water, kissing him joyously. Cas returned the kiss eagerly, pressing Sam back into the tile. The steam enveloped them, their legs tangled together, and Cas ran his hands possessively over Sam, caressing him, squeezing his ass and the backs of his thighs as they kissed.

“I would like to give you pleasure again, Sam,” he panted into Sam’s ear.

Sam chuckled. “Sounds good to me,” he said, cupping Cas’s face and drawing him up for another kiss. “But…” He reached between them, stroking Cas’s belly with one hand and caressing the back of his neck with the other. “There’s something I’ve been missing, Cas, that I’d like to do first.”

Cas was already breathing hard, but it hurt Sam’s heart that there was a faint note of suspicion in his voice. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been touching me a lot, and now I want to touch you.” He gazed down into Cas’s eyes, which widened slightly. “This is the first time since the cabin you haven’t been fully dressed, even. I want to really enjoy that, Cas.” His eyes roved over Cas’s body; he held him at arm’s length and stroked his hips slowly. “You know, for all the times you’ve made me come, you sort of play hard to get.”

He caught Cas close and turned them, so that Cas was the one with his back against the tile. He kissed him with all the seductive force he could muster… which was considerable. His own arousal pounded thunderously through his veins as Cas melted into him, head tipped up to meet his as Sam hunched over him. “But I’ve got you now,” he breathed against Cas’s eager mouth.

He kissed him with rising urgency, again and again, leaving his mouth only to gently bite and suck his neck, pull his earlobe into his mouth, lick his collarbone, rub his lips over his roughly stubbled jawline. He ran his hands over Cas’s body with intense pleasure, caressing his torso, lingering over his nipples. He kissed his way down from Cas’s neck to suck one nipple slowly, teasing it gently with his teeth, flicking it eagerly with his tongue, until Cas moaned and arched against him, fingers clutched in Sam’s hair.

Sam stood upright to kiss him again and caged Cas’s hips between his knees, pressing into him, moving sensuously against him. He rubbed on him, humping his hip, his belly, then moving between his legs. He put his hand between them to assist, finally pressing his dick against Cas’s and enclosing them both, squeezing them together.

But Cas jumped like he’d gotten an electric shock, seized Sam’s wrist and yanked it away almost painfully, jerking his hips back from Sam’s.

“No,” he said sharply.

Sam pulled back, surprised and a little hurt. “What’s wrong, Cas? You liked this before.” Sam happily remembered rubbing himself against Cas in this way, in the hunter’s cabin.

“Not… not here,” Cas stuttered, uncharacteristically flustered.

Sam knew, somehow, that he didn’t mean in the shower. He recalled his reaction when he’d tried to go down on him in the alley; it was similar to this. He wouldn’t try that again, he decided. For now, he gathered Cas close and comfortingly against him, rubbing his back.

“Cas, honey, please tell me what’s wrong.” He’d never used an endearment before, and wasn’t sure it suited Cas, but Sam was so filled with tenderness, desire, love and overwhelming protectiveness, it burst out of him. “Tell me what you need… I can feel how much you need it…” He kissed him, deeply and persuasively.

“I want…” Cas moaned softly as Sam nibbled his neck again, caressing him sweetly. “I just want… your pleasure…”

“Why always mine? What about yours, Cas?”

Sam reached behind him now, rubbing lower, squeezing Cas’s ass while he kissed him with heated tenderness. “I won’t stop loving you,” he breathed, as his fingers inched inward toward penetration, massaging and seeking. “You don’t understand anything if you still think that. No matter how satisfied you make me, I will always love you, and want you, and need your pleasure as much as mine.”

“Sam… Sam,” Cas moaned, pressing himself back into Sam’s hand. “I love you… I love you, too, so much, and I shouldn’t! It’s… my fault, all my fault, I should never have begun this… you don’t understand; this is dangerous, so dangerous…”

He groaned helplessly then as Sam penetrated him fully with his fingers, and he did not resist when Sam turned him and pushed him to face the back of the shower, placing his hands on the wall. Sam gripped Cas’s hips and moved against him, entering him at last with an urgent thrust, and Cas gave a sobbing cry of pleasure and rocked back against him, but then…

“No! Sam… oh, Sam, stop, please!”

With a gasp of surprise, Sam rocked his hips still. He tried not to move, but he was still inside Cas, and he didn’t know what to do. Was he hurting him? “Cas! What…”

Cas was frozen, hands pressed to the tile, head hanging and hair dripping. They were both still for a moment, and Sam realized Cas was on the brink of orgasm, that only a little more stimulation would do the trick. But Cas did not want him to move in him… carefully, he leaned forward, keeping his hips still, and wrapped his arms around him, kissing his back, caressing his chest, trying to soothe him. But Cas shuddered and gasped, and jerked in surprise when Sam kissed him, which moved Sam deeper inside him again.

Cas cried out sharply, then, “No!” He gave a violent shudder, and… disappeared.

Sam felt the shock like a blow. He stumbled forward and caught himself against the wall and shivered, his body and soul rebelling at the abrupt abandonment. He stood shocked and hopeless for a long time, until the water grew cold.

***

A few days later, Sam could feel Dean trying to work up to saying something to him, so finally he asked, “Something you wanna say, Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat, using the road ahead as an excuse not to look at Sam while he drove. “I guess. Everything all right with you and Cas?”

San sighed. He would have laughed wearily, but he wasn’t even up to that. In fact, he was startled when tears came to his eyes as he answered, “No. Definitely not.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, clearly feeling that he was fording treacherous waters. “Well… what’s the problem? You… love each other, right?”

Sam felt a brief surge of gratitude toward his brother. The guy could grow, after all, when he put his mind to it. He’d been so uncomfortable with the whole idea of Sam and Cas at first, but then seeing how happy Sam was whenever Cas was around, he had worked to accept it. It made things easier.

“Yeah, we do,” Sam answered. “Cas seems to have some problem with the whole angel-human thing.”

“What—like you’re just a lowly human, so you’re not good enough?” Dean bristled.

Sam half-smiled. “Nah, I don’t think it’s that. He keeps saying he’s afraid, and—” He stopped, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“And?”

Sam cleared his throat again. “It seems to be a… sex thing,” he said reluctantly.

He expected Dean to immediately say, ‘I’m out,’ but he didn’t. He did shift around uncomfortably for a minute before forging ahead. “Well, what’s the problem? You guys do it, right?”

They’d had to discuss this for logistical reasons. When Dean had offered to get them separate hotel rooms so Sam and Cas could have their privacy, Sam had demurred, saying they should keep close for security purposes. When Dean had pressed the matter, Sam had explained about Cas putting Dean into a deep sleep so he’d never hear them. He’d expected Dean to be angry, but he hadn’t been. “Seems like a good solution,” he’d said, and added, “I wondered why I’d been feeling so well-rested lately.”

Sam thought for a moment before answering Dean. “That’s the problem,” he said. “We don’t, exactly. He just… gets me off. He won’t let me do anything that’s good for him, and when I try, he… gets upset.”

“Can’t believe I of all people am asking you of all people this, but… you tried talking to him about it?”

“Yeah, he won’t. And when I tried to… press the issue, he disappeared. And he hasn’t been back… Dean, what if he doesn’t come back? What if I scared him off for good?”

“I’m not sure how I know this, Sammy, but I know you didn’t. He’s always been flighty and unreliable. You’re just gonna have to pin him down and get it out of him, whatever it is. Then you guys can deal with it.”

They were quiet for a while. Sam was impressed, again. He knew Dean was right, and what’s more, his words gave Sam the seed of a plan, which took root at the back of his mind.

***

That very night, he thought it odd when Dean, who had not seemed very tired, had barely lain down on his bed, probably planning to watch some TV before turning in, when he practically passed out, snoring. It made sense when Cas appeared a moment later.

“Cas,” Sam breathed, relief washing through him. He closed his laptop and set it on the bedside table and looked up at the angel.

Cas looked—awful. Sam started in surprise once he got a good look at him. He was pale and extremely disheveled, with two or three days’ growth of beard rather than his usual five o’clock shadow, and his eyes were puffy and dark-circled. He seemed slightly bent, as if under some terrible weight. He stood mute in the center of the room and said nothing, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Cas!” Sam repeated, and stood up, quickly crossing the room to take Cas by the shoulders and peer into his face. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No. I… do not believe so. I needed…” He leaned into Sam suddenly, embracing him. His hold was not tight, as if he did not have the strength to squeeze. He stumbled a little as Sam hugged him back, barely able to keep himself upright.

“Hey! Hey… take it easy, now. C’mere, Cas,” Sam murmured, and steered Cas to his bed, sitting him down. “You needed what?”

“To see you. To be with you. I wished to lie next to you. I was going to wait until you were ready for sleep, but…” He didn’t finish, but leaned his head into Sam’s shoulder as Sam sat down next to him on the bed. “I am sorry, Sam,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry that I left you in need. And I do not think I can bring you pleasure tonight. I do not wish to disappoint you, but…”

Sam stopped him with a hard embrace, crushing the angel to him, pressing his lips to the top of his head. “Oh, Cas,” he murmured, pained. “God, man. I’m sorry. If I made you think it was about that…” He sighed, and lifted Cas’s face to kiss him, his lips lightly and briefly, then all over his face, softly, while he spoke. “I missed you… so much. And not the sex, Cas… just you. I was afraid I pushed you too far and you’d never come back.” He stroked Cas’s face, gazing down at him. “You know the sex doesn’t matter, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have let you give me so much… I don’t need it, I just need you. It doesn’t matter if you never…” He stopped. “Cas?”

Cas had been leaning more and more heavily against him, and now his eyes blinked woozily, seemingly unable to focus on Sam. “Cas? Have you been drinking?”

“No. I believe I am… tired.”

Sam didn’t know what to say for a moment. The angel had never been tired a moment in his presence, and of course he didn’t sleep. “Why?” Sam asked, finally.

“I do not know. But I felt… I couldn’t do without your presence, and if I could lie next to you while you were sleeping, I might feel better.”

Sam smiled. Despite his concern, his heart lifted. “Did you know I’ve been wishing for that since you came back? Like it was in the cabin,” Sam said, peeling Cas’s trenchcoat off and tossing it over a chair.

“What’s that?” Cas asked, watching Sam uneasily, though he lifted his arms docilely for Sam to remove his coat.

“I’m not gonna undress you all the way,” Sam said, a little sadly. “I’m just gonna make you comfortable for bed. Here,” he said, reaching into Dean’s duffle bag, which was open between the beds. “Let’s put these on you. They should fit you.” He handed Cas a pair of sweat pants.

Cas took them automatically, and took off his pants awkwardly, as if he were not sure how it was done. As he pulled on the sweatpants, he repeated, “What have you been wishing for?”

“To sleep with you. Like we did then, just lying together. I… missed that, so much, before you came back. And now…” Sam didn’t finish, did not add that Cas always left not long after Sam had his orgasm, on his little clandestine visits.

“I… have never slept. I do not know how,” Cas said.

Sam was worried about that, about why Cas would suddenly need to sleep now, but decided not to overcomplicate things. “Well, it’s really easy. And you helped me do it once when I really needed it, so I’ll help you now,” he said simply.

He chuckled then at Cas’s incongruous outfit-- Dean’s old sweats and a button-up shirt and tie. “Here, let me help you with that.” He unknotted Cas’s tie with some difficulty—it seemed like it had been tightly knotted for months—and took off the button-up shirt, leaving Cas in a white undershirt. “There, that should be comfortable.”

Cas sat drooping on the side of the bed, gazing at Sam as if he had no idea what to do next. His expression tore at Sam’s heart: it was unfathomable, helpless, and hopeless on a scale that Sam, even after a lifetime filled with horror and depthless despair, could barely comprehend. He knelt on the bed and pulled Cas close, desperate to erase that look from his face. He enveloped and cradled him, and Cas moaned, but not in pleasure—like a dying thing.

“Cas…” Sam laid him down and crawled into bed facing him, arranging their limbs, settling their bodies against each other as Cas lay unresisting. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right. I’m here.”

“I am glad you are here, Sam. And I… need this so much. Need you touching me. But it is not all right. It’s so far from all right, Sam…”

Sam kissed him lightly, squeezing him tightly and caressing his back. “I know,” he whispered. “But it’s better now. Better when we’re together, Cas. I’ll watch out for you. You can rest…”

Cas’s eyes were drifting closed as he relaxed in Sam’s arms. He started to breathe deeply, then suddenly jerked upright with a start and a cry—and all of the lights in the room went off with a crackling spark and a pop.

“I… Sam! I went away for a moment, and I did not intend to! Where did I go? Why…”

Sam clutched Cas more tightly, his worry rising. “Nowhere! You’re here with me, Cas. It’s OK. That’s… just what falling asleep feels like.”

“Falling,” Cas murmured. “Yes.” He relaxed a little, allowing Sam to draw him back down on the bed.

Sam rubbed his shoulders reassuringly, smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. “You won’t go anywhere. I’ll keep you right here with me, I promise.” He began to kiss Cas all over his face, while he whispered soothingly to him. “It’s OK, Cas. Let it go. Close your eyes…” Sam kissed them closed, gently. “Let your muscles relax. All over. There, that’s better…”

“Will you keep touching me, and hold me while I’m… asleep?” He spoke the word as if it were unfamiliar to him, and he wasn’t sure if he was using it correctly.

“Yeah. Just like this, and nothing more, OK? Just this. I’m with you. I love you…” He kept murmuring, touching Cas tenderly, until he felt the angel surrender into sleep.

He lay awake sometime after Cas slept, just feeling his closeness, inhaling the beloved scent of leaves and bitter chamomile, and thinking back over all that had happened between them, in the phantom hunter’s cabin and since. He remembered Cas telling him he was healed, and that Cas had not been sure it would work. The... connection that you and I forged with our pleasure together. I was afraid, for a moment, that it had released too much of the divine into you. That it would destroy you, he had said.

Destroying him by releasing the divine into him… this was what Cas feared. This was why he refused Sam’s efforts to bring him pleasure, and why he had disappeared when Sam brought him to the brink of orgasm. And in the shower, when Cas had said “Not here,” Sam now understood that he meant “not here on this plane,” in the ordinary world that Sam inhabited. Well, Sam was not prepared to accept this. As he connected this realization with the seed of a plan that Dean had planted, he knew exactly what to do. And like a good Winchester, he would be watching carefully, waiting for the exact right moment to do it.

***

When Sam awoke the next morning, he was slightly surprised that Cas was still there, sleeping like a baby in his arms. He was utterly charmed by the sight of him: rumpled, his expression childlike and uplifted, serene and heart-breakingly beautiful—but very human. He had even drooled a little; there was a wet spot on the pillow under his cheek. Sam sighed and stretched languorously, enjoying the comfort of Cas against him, and leaned to kiss his forehead tenderly.

Dean cleared his throat pointedly from the next bed. Sam looked up, surprised that Dean was awake, since Cas had put him to sleep. He must have released Dean when he had fallen asleep himself, maybe.

“He OK? What, is he actually asleep?” Dean asked, peering at Cas.

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I don’t think he does, either,” Sam answered.

“You guys work stuff out?”

“We didn’t talk, really. He was really wrecked when he got here, just exhausted. And he didn’t know how to sleep, so I had to help him with that.”

“Who doesn’t know how to sleep?” Dean said, getting up and heading toward the bathroom. “Weird. Hey, the light’s broken in here,” he complained.

Cas finally woke a few minutes later, as Dean emerged from the bathroom and started packing up. “How did it become morning?” he asked sleepily.

“Hey, sunshine!” Dean greeted him before Sam could answer. “That’s what happens when you get some good shut-eye. How’d you like it?”

“It was… pleasant,” Cas said, and glanced at Sam. Sam had remained close, but was no longer holding him.

“Dean,” said Cas seriously, after a moment. “I would like a moment to talk with Sam privately.”

“Good, ‘cause I would like some breakfast, and if I eat with Sam, he’ll try to make me eat fruit or something,” Dean said, picking up his duffle. “Text me when you’re ready and I’ll come pick you up,” he said to Sam over his shoulder, and closed the door behind him.

“Do you feel better now, Cas?” Sam asked, moving back to sit cross-legged on the other side of the bed from Cas.

“Yes. I believe sleep was all I needed, though I do not understand why. I will remember how, next time. Thank you for helping me, Sam.”

“Always,” Sam said, and his gaze caught Cas’s and held it. The warmth between them grew, and after a long moment, Sam scooted close to Cas and leaned in for a kiss. But Cas stopped him, and stood up.

“Sam. I am… sorry. I feel I have misled you, perhaps used you, and that was not my intention.”

“What? What are you talking about, Cas?”

“Last night, I was in need. You gave me what I needed, but I did not tell you that… I could not reciprocate, in the future. I do not believe that, among humans, friends can do as we did last night. The… touching, even if it was not carnal in nature, and the sharing of a bed.”

Sam frowned. “Friends?”

“Yes. Friends, Sam, as I am with Dean. That is what I wish to be to you. Will you… accommodate me?”

“Accommodate you? What is this, a business meeting?” Sam was angry now, a flare of rage designed to stave off the crushing of his heart. “Are you… breaking up with me, Cas? With everything that we mean to each other—”

“Sam.” Cas sat down next to him and took his hand awkwardly. “I do not wish to hurt you. I have tried to explain. A human-angel relationship is just not possible. Your feelings are admirable, and do justice to a kind and loving heart. But they are misdirected. I… cannot love you in the way that you wish. It would do harm to you. Please try to understand.”

Sam sat perfectly still, awash in overpowering emotion: heartbreak, anger, outrage and fear. He wanted to seize Cas by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, and he wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe, to pour his desperate love into him.

But Sam had a tool for dealing with intense feelings, one that had served him well his whole life: cool, calculated craftiness. He took a deep breath and quelled the tide inside himself with practiced skill.

“OK. Fine,” he said, shrugging and withdrawing his hand.

Cas’s eyebrows shot up. Sam had rarely seen him look so surprised. “You… you will allow this?

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, Cas. I love you, but I can’t force you to be with me. You want to be friends? Fine, we’re friends. Thanks for all the help you gave me.”

Cas was stunned silent for a moment, then he forced a pathetic smile that hurt Sam’s heart so much, he almost recanted. “Good! That is… very logical, Sam. I am glad that you can be so reasonable about this. So… we will be friends, and I will continue my healing work, and help you and Dean to rid the world of the leviathan.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said calmly, standing up. Cas stepped backward, almost dodging him, clearly expecting Sam to try something. But Sam merely looked at him coolly, and began packing his bag. “Dean and I are going to go find the bone of a righteous person; I think he has a convent crypt in mind. Wanna come along?”

Cas stood dumbstruck. He looked hurt, Sam realized, and he probably didn’t even understand why, himself. It twisted like a knife in Sam’s heart, but he reassured himself that it was temporary. He would fix it.

“Uh… no,” Cas said finally. “I have… other work to attend to.”

“Well, good luck,” Sam said, turning to look at Cas measuringly.

Cas seemed chilled by his look. “Thank you,” he said automatically. “I… will see you and Dean soon.”

“OK,” Sam said, turning toward the bathroom. “Bye, Cas.” He managed to keep the heartbreak out of his voice, but only just.

“Goodbye, Sam,” said Cas forlornly, and Sam felt the air suck in as he disappeared.

***

Sam had plenty to think about over the next few days as he and Dean crafted their plan to deal with Dick Roman. He was especially distracted by finally having to put Bobby to rest. He took time to feel the grief fully, even as his heart broke anew every time he saw Cas, or was reminded of him, or Dean mentioned him. Even Bobby had had something to say about it, before they laid him to rest, telling Sam that whatever he had planned, it probably wasn’t a good idea, and he should just let Cas go.

Dean, of course, was suspicious at first, but when Sam explained that he had a plan to get Cas back, he accepted it surprisingly easily. “Good. Let me know if you need anything from me,” was all he said.

There wasn’t much time now. It was down to the wire—they planned to attack Dick Roman the next day, with Cas on hand to help them find him. There was so much that could go wrong, so much to fear. But they were prepared. All that was left was for Sam to find the right moment to execute his plan.

It was surprisingly easy. Sam didn’t complicate things. He simply warned Dean to steer clear, set up in the abandoned stone church near the cabin they had been using as a squat, and waited for Cas to appear.

He knelt on the floor and focused on his heartbreak and grief. It wasn’t difficult; there was more than enough of it to feel. He allowed through every moment of it that he had suppressed over the last few days—how the idea of life without Cas crushed him, his terrible despair at the thought of losing him, the overwhelming love and protectiveness, the burning ache of thwarted desire he still felt every time he looked at him. He let through his grief for Bobby, too, and for things even beyond that, back to his grief for his father, for Dean’s brokenness, for Jo and Ellen and so many other lost friends, and not least for himself, and his lost dream of a normal life. And as he shook with grief and tears poured down his face, he remembered the hunter’s cabin, and how all that grief was eased when Cas held him, and how Cas’s love had healed him when he was so terribly, unutterably broken he had believed himself beyond repair.

“Castiel,” he prayed aloud, softly. “Cas, I need your help. Please.”

He heard Cas’s footsteps as he entered the church, and heard them quicken when he saw Sam prostrate on the floor.

“Sam!” Cas ran to him, stopping a few feet away to peer uncertainly into his face. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Should I get Dean?”

He took two uncertain steps closer, and Sam sprang his trap.

He pulled a lighter from his pocket, sparked it on and cast it onto the floor. A circle of flames burst to life around them. Cas was trapped in the circle of holy fire with Sam.

***

Cas stood utterly still, rigid as a wax figure, face frozen in a wide-eyed expression of shocked betrayal.

Sam climbed gracefully to his feet and walked toward Cas, circling as he approached. “Cas,” he said, very calmly. “I think we have some things to talk about.”

Cas’s expression flattened as he took in the sight of Sam, all evidence of the intense emotion he’d poured out while praying erased from his face. His eyes bored into Sam’s unblinkingly for a long moment. “Sam,” he said in monotone. “This is a very bad idea.”

Sam paced closer, circling behind, so that Cas had to turn to face him. He moved lightly, poised on the balls of his feet as if ready for battle, never taking his eyes off Cas’s face. “You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?”

“Put out the fire, Sam.”

“No.”

Cas’s expression was melting, undergoing a frightening change. His eyes had narrowed with suppressed pain, and as that slid away, they sparked, his jaw set, and a ripple of anger passed through him and thrummed in the stone of the floor under Sam’s feet. “You fool,” he said, in a hard, quiet voice. “Sam Winchester. I could turn you into a pile of ash where you stand. Without even desiring it.”

“That’s what you’re afraid of,” Sam said caressingly, as he circled closer, “isn’t it?” He reached out as he passed and brushed the back of his hand against Cas’s—the lightest, grazing touch, but the angel jerked away violently, as if from a blow.

Cas was breathing heavily now, turning to keep his eyes locked with Sam’s as he circled him, and Sam pressed his advantage. “You’re afraid that your pleasure…” and Sam brushed close, dangerously close, to breathe the word in Cas’s ear before dodging quickly away, “The same pleasure that healed me, that brought my soul back from hell’s doorstep—” and he brushed Cas’s hand, lingeringly this time, and did not step back when Cas spun, inches away, to face him again. “—is going to destroy me.”

He stood face to face with Cas now, too close for conversation: kissing distance. He loomed over him, blazing eyes locked with Cas’s, unflinching.

But Cas flinched, and stepped back, looking almost frightened when Sam matched his step instantly, moving with him. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty passed over his features, replaced with a dark glower. “Is this the way you choose to have a conversation with me, Sam, presumably about the relationship you wish to have with me?” he enunciated furiously. “Did you trap human girls in a circle of flames when you wished for their attention? Is this an expression of tender—”

“Do you feel vulnerable, Cas?” Sam asked with soft sincerity. “Want me to level the field a little bit?” Eyes still locked on Cas’s, he stripped his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his pants and kicked those aside too, until he stood naked before him. “Does this help? It’s how I always feel when I’m with you, Cas. And I want it that way.”

Cas stood frozen, eyes locked helplessly on Sam’s form. “Not enough?” Sam continued softly. “How about this?” He dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before the angel.

“Sam,” Cas said, and pleading had edged into his voice. “Stop this. Damn it! You…. you ridiculous, foolish, self-destructive Winchesters! Did you stop to think what it would do to me if… if I selfishly indulged myself with you, and it resulted in your demise? What if it only blinded you, Sam, like your friend Pamela? Or turned you into a crippled, drooling vegetable? How do you think Dean would look on me then, Sam? Do you think he would hesitate to kill me, even if it meant the end of the world? Oh, and what about that, Sam? What about the destruction of all humanity already beginning right now that—”

“This could be our last night on Earth, Cas,” Sam interrupted, with a wicked smile.

Cas seized Sam by the hair and jerked his head back. “Damn it, Sam!”

Sam closed his eyes, and Cas’s hand remained clenched in his hair. He felt the heat of Cas’s fingers, the weight of his closeness, and heard his own heart beating in his ears. Cas’s breathing was ragged. Sam’s lips parted. The clench of his hand in Sam’s hair did not loosen, but surged with a wild, electric current that pulsed through them both.

They stood frozen for a moment, then Sam felt Cas crumple to his knees. His mouth came down hard on Sam’s as he crushed him mercilessly to him, kissing him harder than he ever had, teeth clashing, lips bruising. He seized Sam’s flesh in his hands, everywhere, violent, fraught caresses that felt more like a brand of ownership than any touch Sam had ever experienced. And he arched into it, panting and writhing, pressing his flesh desperately into Cas’s hands, pressing his nakedness into Cas’s clothes, seeking the skin beneath.

“I could make you submit to me,” Cas breathed.

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

“You could not stop me.”

“I know.”

Cas turned his face away, panting over Sam’s shoulder. He seemed to be fighting himself, teetering dangerously between rage and desire, fighting the undercurrent of pain and fear.

Sam sought to push him over the edge. He shoved his hands under Cas’s shirt in the back, caressing him, and caught Cas’s gaze with a smoldering, challenging look.

“The only thing you can’t do,” Sam whispered, arching up and wrapping one leg around Cas as he strained to bring him nearer, “is leave me.”

Cas gave a growl, half of anger, half of surrender, and pushed Sam flat on the floor, grinding against him, and blindly, animalistically biting his neck, which he had never done before.

Sam clutched him, rose against him, and fought the raging flood of his own pounding excitement long enough to snake one arm free and grope for his jeans, which lay next to them on the floor. He managed to get his hand in the pocket and pull out the tube of lube he’d brought, and set it next to his shoulder, in Cas’s line of sight.

“Do it, Cas,” he breathed, turning his head to nip and nuzzle Cas’s neck. “Fuck me. I know you want to…” He seized Cas’s hair and pulled his head up to lock eyes with him, and echoed Cas’s words to him, from the first time they’d come together. “I know what you want. Take it.”

Cas froze in Sam’s gaze for a moment, shuddered, and became utterly still. Then, in an explosion of lust, he seized Sam and flipped him over, pulling him up roughly to his knees. He pushed Sam’s chest to the floor with a hand on his shoulder. Sam heard him fumble with his clothes briefly before he gave an infuriated growl and they vanished; Sam felt Cas’s skin all along his back, and this seemed to send Cas into a frenzy. After a fumbling moment with the tube of lube, he was penetrating Sam roughly with his fingers, lubing him. Sam cried out and lifted his hips higher, and Cas thrust into him, mercilessly. Sam cried out again, straining to open himself, but Cas gave him no time. He pumped hard, brutally, holding Sam down by the back of his neck.

Sam crumpled beneath Cas’s onslaught, giving himself over completely. He felt pain at first, but his need was so desperate that soon it shifted into intense pleasure. He hardly recognized the keening, sobbing sounds coming from him as his own voice. He came hard, spilling his heat onto the cold stone floor, and shuddered back against Cas, calling out his name.

Cas’s thrusts didn’t slow; he groaned and panted in time with them, and gasped, “Is this—” he shoved forward hard—“love, Sam?” He squeezed Sam’s hips tightly, fingers digging in, rocking him relentlessly. “Do I do this… because… I love you?” His words were angry on the surface, but really, Sam could hear, they were desperately pleading.

Sam was limp beneath him, laid low by the violent storm of his own pleasure, but he answered, breathlessly, “Yes!”

“I could—I could—ah!” Cas cried out sharply. “I could destroy you, I could kill you, just for this!” His voice broke on the last words, and he sobbed, stilling his thrusts, and collapsed forward onto Sam’s back, wrapping his arms desperately around him, still inside him, and Sam felt his tears drip onto his neck.

“You won’t, Cas,” Sam said tenderly, holding tightly to Cas’s arms where they wrapped around his chest. “It won’t hurt me. I knew it from the moment I figured out what you were afraid of. And you know it too, deep down. You’re just afraid to feel this love.”

Cas moaned desperately, straining to keep his hips still, but they moved a little, instinctually, and Sam moaned in response. His own excitement and pleasure were slowly rising again; he felt himself stiffen as Cas eased forward and pressed his tear-wet face into his neck.

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I wish… I wish I didn’t have the power to destroy you.” He trembled against Sam’s back, knees quaking behind him.

Sam turned his head, managed to graze Cas’s temple with his lips, caressed his arms as he leaned back into him. “Love always gives you the power to destroy someone, Cas,” he said softly. “And to be destroyed, too. You don’t have to be an angel for that.”

“I love you, Sam,” Cas whispered.

“I love you too, Cas. Don’t be afraid anymore. Just let it all go. Love me like you want to. And if we die tomorrow, we’ll die together.”

Cas sighed in assent, and began moving inside Sam again, so much more gently now, touching Sam lovingly with wondering, tentative hands, smoothing the hair that he had pulled, brushing tender kisses across the flesh he had bruised. He brought Sam to his second sweet, blazing climax, and their cries blended together like music as Cas followed, shuddering and sobbing into stillness at last.

Sam felt a blast of white heat release into him when Cas came, but instead of hurting him as Cas had feared, it washed over him as pure joy, filling his body with what felt like light made tactile, sweetness washing his very bones.

“Sam!” cried Cas. He withdrew from him and turned him over to face him, both of them on their knees, gripped Sam’s shoulders and peered into his face. “Sam, are you all right?”

Sam threw his arms around Cas and kissed him. “So much more than all right,” he laughed. I told you, Cas.”

Cas held his face and peered into it, and Sam finally understood what people meant by “piercing eyes;” Cas stared at him, through him, with hard, desperate intensity for a long moment, before he finally gave a moan of relief and kissed him, twice, then pressed kisses all over his face. “I… am so glad,” he said, more stilted and monotone than ever in the extremity of his emotion. “I am filled with… love, and joy, relief, and a very sweet pain, I do not know how to contain it all… Sam…”

“I know the feeling,” Sam laughed. He did; he felt like he would explode with joy and love, and an indefinable feeling of deep, unassailable well-being that was physical as well as emotional.

They exchanged kisses all over their faces and necks, unrestrainedly, for several long minutes, Sam laughing softly, Cas still leaking tears, which Sam kissed away, until he finally pulled Cas down to the floor and draped around him in a full body embrace, drawing him into a deep, intense, almost frenzied kiss. Their physical passion was spent, but it felt like their emotional passion never would be. Sam wanted to literally kiss Cas until the world ended, but knew that would not be nearly long enough.

They rested then, quietly, wrapped in each other’s breath, bathed in the glow of holy fire, its soft hiss the only sound in the room. After lying still for a moment, Sam noticed the flames with a pang of guilt, and at the same time Cas whispered, in a small voice, “Sam. Please put out the fire.”

Sam scrambled quickly to obey, looking around anxiously until he found the loose stone in the floor under which he’d hidden the decelerant. He paused as he pulled it out and looked back at Cas, cleared his throat, and asked meekly, “Are… are you going to disappear when I do?”

Cas smiled sadly. “No, Sam. Never again.”

***

Dean looked tremendously relieved to see the two of them together, eying their clasped hands with a mix of discomfort and satisfaction. “Glad you two lovebirds worked things out, since we’ll all need our best game faces on tomorrow.”

They discussed plans for a while, but there was no real need. Everything was ready. Dean retreated to his bed, saying, “Don’t forget to put me out if you decide to get it on. And wake me up before the end of the world.”

***

Sam did not sleep that night. He was too keyed up, feeling like he could run a marathon or bench press a car, without pausing for breath. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to simply glory in being with Cas while they still had time.

They made love again, languorously and tenderly this time, for hours, spending many minutes on each kiss, each caress. Sam was surprised that his desire rose again so soon, after two orgasms already that day, but it filled him with lingering, smoldering fire. They lay on their sides, Sam behind Cas, curled around him, with Cas’s head cradled on Sam’s arm so he could gaze into his face while he moved in him, so slowly, gently rocking. Cas never broke the gaze, until the last moment of his slow, sweet climax, when his eyes widened, then closed with his soft, musical cry of ecstasy. Moments later, he was asleep for the second time in his life. Sam held him until morning.

***

The battle was intense the next day. There was horror and fear until the last moment. Sam and Kevin raced into the lab just in time to see Cas and Dean dispatch Dick Roman, and then…

Then, when the leviathan exploded, Sam felt something stir in him, like nothing he’d ever felt. His consciousness… expanded, and time slowed down, and he could see everything in minutest, clearest detail, down to motes of dust in the air. More than this, he felt he could see the flow of time, and something like... layers, of hints of worlds lurking just beneath the surface of this one, tendrils curling out of them to touch him. One great, dark, thick tendril burst into view, and Sam shuddered away from its touch… but then saw it reaching for Dean and Cas, opening wide as if to swallow them, and he saw Cas’s face painted with sudden fear as Cas raised one hand, glowing, against the darkness, reaching to clasp Dean’s arm with the other, to pull him back from the opening abyss.

But Sam knew he would be too late. He shouted his brother’s name, then Cas’s, and as he did, his terror exploded out of him in a burst of blue-white light, brighter than the sun, that lashed the maw of darkness, driving it back, and dragged Cas and Dean away from it, back toward Sam. He felt Kevin cling to the back of his jacket as all the glass in the room shattered violently, and Sam’s vision shattered with it, as he felt himself pulled apart in a great vortex that sucked him down into unconsciousness.

***

“Sam! SAM! Cas, what the hell happened? Is he breathing?”

Sam’s eyes blinked open. He was draped across Cas’s lap, and Dean was shoving at Cas’s arm, trying to get close enough to see Sam’s face. There was blood in Sam’s mouth, and more dripping over it onto his chin from his nose. His head ached horribly and his vision was dim. “I’m all right,” he managed weakly.

“Thank God,” Dean said.

Sam looked around. The first thing his eyes fell on was a familiar loose stone, and beyond it a blackened ring on the stone floor. They were in the abandoned church, directly in the middle of the circle he’d made of holy fire the night before.

“How did we get here?” he asked muzzily.

“That’s what I’m asking,” said Dean.

“Sam brought us here.” Cas’s voice was quiet, monotone as usual, but Sam thought he detected a shaky undertone.

“What? Sam did? How?”

Cas did not answer immediately. He placed a cool hand on Sam’s forehead. “How do you feel, Sam?”

Sam felt his growing terror ease as Cas touched him. As he remembered the last few minutes, a realization—a possibility, really—was dawning on him, and he couldn’t deal with the idea at the moment. “I’m… fine,” he said. “My head hurts a little.”

“Yes,” Cas acknowledged, and touched Sam’s forehead again. The pain receded.

“Is someone gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Dean demanded.

“We were being sucked into purgatory with the leviathan,” Cas answered. “I should have predicted it. But Sam—” Cas looked down into Sam’s face, saw the suppressed panic there, and halted. “Sam needs rest now. Disaster was averted. We will discuss the details later.”

Sam let his head fall back against Cas’s shoulder with a grateful sigh. Fatigue washed over him in increasingly heavy waves, and he drifted off in Cas’s arms to the sound of Dean’s argumentative voice, and Cas’s steady, monotone answers.

He woke briefly once or twice in the next hour, vaguely aware that they drove somewhere and checked into a hotel. He fell into bed gratefully after Cas helped him into the room, and slept like the dead.

Cas was there when he woke, on the bed with him. He sat outside the covers, still in his trenchcoat, reading a battered paperback. Sam stretched, sat up, and caught Cas’s eye. When Cas put the book down, he immediately blurted out the question that had formed in his mind while he slept.

“Cas? Am I part angel now?”

Cas tilted his head, regarding Sam with a half-smile. “I am usually the one accused of being too direct.” He scooted closer to Sam, turning to sit cross-legged facing him on the bed. “I would not put it so,” he answered thoughtfully, “but perhaps. In any case, I believe you now have some measure of angelic power. The effect may be temporary.”

Sam eyed Cas carefully. “Is it because… we…”

“I believe so. I believe that I was… not exactly wrong in my original fear of taking pleasure with you.”

“But it didn’t hurt me. In fact, I felt—” Sam stopped.

“Exceptionally well and strong, with no need for rest?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes. Whereas I have had the need to sleep, for the first time in my existence.”

“Oh, no! You mean—is it the same thing?”

“Yes. You felt exceptionally well when I first returned you to Dean, too, did you not?”

“Yeah… I thought it was just relief, you know, since I’d felt so shitty for so long, and then finally got good rest. And… you know.” He paused shyly. “Being in love.”

Cas smiled, and touched his face tenderly. “Perhaps it was that,” he said, “for both of us. In any case, I believe that the consequence is that you are now more angelic, and I am more human. As we continue to love each other, perhaps we will come to a middle. Each half human, and half angel.”

Sam was dismayed. “Cas, I… didn’t mean to steal your power. You’re… a divine being, and I’m just a person. I wouldn’t know what to do with angelic powers. And besides… I think we’ve learned I can’t be trusted with power.”

Cas gazed at him with a sad smile. “Have we not learned the same thing about me?”

Sam could find no answer. He held Cas close for a moment, then said hesitantly, “Was it… really me who brought us back to the church? I felt… I don’t know. It was crazy. But it doesn’t seem real. I don’t understand what happened.”

“You saw the connection of purgatory open up and reach for me and Dean, did you not?”

“I didn’t know that’s what it was, but yeah. And I could tell you couldn’t stop it.”

“No. I was too close to the edge, and I did not have time to gather my power. Even if I had… I did not know how to stop it, exactly, and I could not escape with Dean; that part of my power was closed off to me with purgatory so nearby. I felt… the great expansion of your self, Sam. You reached for me and Dean, not just with the angelic power inside you, but with the human power, too. It was that special combination… whatever is inside you that makes you what you are… that fended off purgatory and brought us back to that holy place.”

“The church… why… I didn’t do it consciously…”

“I know. You chose a holy place for your assignation with me, perhaps subconsciously attracted to it. But that place remembered you, and the power we both released there. When you used that power, reaching for safety for two people you love who were in danger, it brought you back there, to where it was created.”

Sam was stunned silent. He realized that this knowledge, this change occurring in him, was shattering his entire self-image. He wanted it, but could not reconcile it with what he believed about himself. “But… I’m…. since I was a baby, with the demon blood…” He stopped. “I’ve tried to do good, to help people. But every choice I’ve made has turned bad. I broke the seals and unleashed the apocalypse, when I was trying to prevent it. So many times, I tried to save Dean, and ended up hurting him, sometimes with my own hands. I… I let Lucifer in. More than once, in a way. And you…”

“You have never hurt me, Sam.”

Sam was silent, contemplating this. His mind swirled chaotically. Rising underneath the chaos was an unfamiliar feeling… a joyful pride. He had always wanted this—to be the hero, the one who saved everything. He had never been able to feel he really was, even when he had made every sacrifice to accomplish it, including his own soul.

Cas seemed to sense something of his thoughts. “If it had not been for your actions, yesterday’s events would have been far more dire. Dean and I would have been trapped in purgatory, perhaps forever.” He touched Sam’s face again, almost reverently. “You are… so much, Sam. So much of everything that is good and beautiful about humanity.”

Sam was quiet then for a long moment. He wanted it to be true. He would have to work on believing it was. Finally, he looked up at Cas.

“And… you’ll stay with me?”

“I will. Of course I wish to—I have felt so almost since we met. But now… it feels as if I must. There is no other choice. We are…” He paused, and cupped Sam’s face in his hands. “We are part of each other, now. When I tried to leave you, I was… incomplete.”

Sam sighed, leaning his face into Cas’s hands. “I was, too. And I know I can’t do without you. But, Cas… is that OK with you? I mean… being dependent on me in some way, and losing your power? You have to sleep now…”

“I do not think I will have to often. Perhaps more as time goes on, but I enjoy sleep. And I have gained other things as well. The emotions, and the sensations I experience in the human way… it is very different from angelic experience. The physical connection… I could never have imagined it would be so powerful.” He grinned at Sam, an expression Sam had never seen on his face. It was almost… naughty. “I understand now why humans are so obsessed with sex.”

Sam laughed, and leaned in to kiss him, sweetly, lingering for just a moment. “Well. I can tell you it’s not like this for everyone. I never experienced anything like that before, either. It was much more than great sex. Maybe that’s the angel part of it.”

“Or perhaps it is simply our own special alchemy.”

Sam grinned, and drew Cas down on the bed with him, stretching out and taking him in his arms. “Mmm. Maybe so. I think we should conduct further experiments, to find out more.”

Cas kissed him lingeringly, nestling their bodies together in a way that already felt utterly natural, more right than anything Sam had ever felt. “More knowledge,” he said breathlessly, as he slowly slid Sam’s clothes off, “is always a good thing.”

~The End~