Chapter Text
Unfortunately for Sam, Dean's worries are warranted. He hasn't been improving, a week rolls into another and he is still sick. Rather than getting better, he is gaining new symptoms and the others aren't going away. What time isn't spent in pain, he's unconscious. It was a reprieve from his worsening condition until the nightmares started (a very recent development). Sam's had nightmares his whole life, but these are ridiculous. He can't remember anything besides the end-- he's pinned on his stomach, fighting the grip of something on his back, teeth are wrapping around his neck from behind him as he struggles. Before they can kill him, he wakes up gasping. Which does not feel good when you already can't breathe.
Sam's breaths come out laboriously, his chest stuttering with the effort. His heart races in his chest. The pounding aggravating his tender head. Instead of Dean at his side, he senses Castiel at the foot of the bed. The angel is paging through a book. His hand lightly touches Sam's ankle-- a burst of angelic grace flows through him, soothing his panic and clearing his airways. Sam exhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut, willing the stinging to cease.
"I'm afraid I was wrong about your condition, Sam." Great wake up call.
Sam groans. Castiel puts his book to the side. He shifts so he is facing Sam. Sam turns his head, blinking in the brightness of the room. Sunlight streams from open curtains, bouncing off the light walls and blinding him. Or it was Castiel? Sam can't keep his eyes open long enough to find out.
"Your nightmares. They appear to be the last memories of that ghost you and Dean put to rest. He was killed by a demonic creature, it must have left some mark on him. Whatever the case, you are being inflicted with his illness now, I am sure it was attracted to you given your... nature."
Of course. Sam had his suspicions, but the last the thing he needed was to give Dean a reminder of what he was up to while Dean was in Hell. Sam opens the eye not smushed against his pillow.
"So you're saying Dean was right?"
"Yes. I do not know what that has to with this conversation."
Sam groans. "Can you heal me then? Since it's not really uhm, human sickeness."
"I believe I can, but I have to be sparing in the amount of grace I give you, least I shock your body. You have significantly weakened since my last visit. Dean should have said something sooner."
"He didn't know it was this bad, I don't think it was-- but I'm not the one to ask."
Sam realizes he's been muffled by his pillow this whole time, his face pressed against it still. He moves onto his back, propping his head on it rather than hiding his face in it. "Dean gone again?"
Castiel nods. Sam has a good guess where he scurried off to. "You did not feel a demonic presence in the cabin?"
Sam shuts his eyes, envisioning the walk into the cabin, "No. We weren't sure what was happening, Dean thought Black dog but the attacks weren't animalistic enough."
"It was a ghost, how were you uncertain?"
"Well, some monsters mimic others, they are quite ingenue and this one had a demon illness stuck to it apparently." Sam sighs, trying not to cough. The spot between his eyes aches. He clenches his jaw and pushes on, "His body was months into decomposition when I found it." Sam concentrates as hard as he can, but he is met with nothing else. "He might not have been burned."
Castiel's eyebrow raises. Sam kinda hopes he wasn't, it would explain why he's sick, or the demon blood won't shake the latest demonic presence. Like a substitute for the real thing. He shutters at the thought.
"I haven't been in the right head space to ask," Sam mutters.
"I will when Dean returns. You should rest."
"I've done nothing but that."
"What else can you do?"
Sam frowns but compiles. No use in arguing with him over it. A strong rush of grace flows through him, and he slips into the dark embrace of sleep.
~*~
"I told you something was wrong!"
"Yes, I am aware. I could not differentiate between what the ghost left behind and what is already there."
Dean says nothing, whatever smugness he had fizzling out. "He will be alright? It's not killing him is it?"
"Not anymore. Dean you should have informed me sooner."
"Anymore? He was dying?!"
Sam winces but tries to stay quiet. He relaxes as much as he can as to not alert them.
"Slowly, but yes. Whatever killed that man infected him and he died of madness. I do not know what you saw on those bodies but I would guess it was self inflicted."
"Sam isn't dying anymore."
"No. Would listen to me?"
"I am."
"Other than the parts about your brother, have you heard me?"
"Yeah." Very convincing.
A long, suffering sigh leaves Castiel. "No matter, is the ghost dead?"
"He was a ghost."
"Did you burn the remains?"
"Yeah? What do you take me for?"
"Then I don't understand how Sam has fallen ill, if he is gone, Sam shouldn't be infected, unless it is the demon that must be killed."
"You can't heal it all the way?"
"I can, but others may be attacked."
"Right, yeah." Dean clears his throat." I can get on that. We weren't looking for it so I'm sure we missed the demonic signs." Dean claps Castiel's shoulder. Sam can feel it hitting with how loud it is.
"If that is all, I must be going now."
"Angel stuff, got it."
Castiel leaves with a soft fluttering of his wings. Dean plops himself down on his bed, the springs creak with the force.
"You are terrible at pretending to be asleep."
Sam snorts and ends up in a coughing fit. Dean places a cup of water on the nightstand for him. "You feeling better?"
"Kinda. Cas' grace is doing a lot of heavy lifting."
"Well, since you are the nosiest person ever, I'm sure you heard all that."
"Sorry, I'll leave the room next time you wanna talk about my worsening condition without my knowledge." Sam has the right to be an asshole. He may not be able to do much, but he can chew Dean out for not wanting to have that conversation when Sam was conscious.
"Hey, I'm not the one who knew that." Dean's jaw clenches. His eyes narrow but he backs off. "You gonna try eating?"
Mad but not angry. "Sure, no promises it won't end up all over you again."
"Haha so funny." Dean shuffles around the kitchen, making an effort not to look at Sam.
"It's a little funny."
"Maybe when you were five."
Sam can't be too bitter, not like Dean knew. He would like if they'd stop excluding him from these conversations though, but what say does he have? It's only him that was dying. He watches Dean prepare broth, not soup. Solid food of any kind made him gag. Dean pours the broth into a bowl and deposits it in Sam's lap.
"Bon appetite. Warn me if you're gonna chuck it, kay?"
Sam steels himself and begins the arduous task of sipping broth. He can't wait to be able to chew again.
~*~
Grace washes over him, putting the worst of the pain at bay. Castiel is frowning at him. Sam is getting used to the accusatory stares from the two. Sam braces himself on the table, tucking his legs under it. Castiel's hand drops from his head.
"No luck in demon hunting?" Sam tilts his body to the side, trying to gauge Castiel's expression better. He looks mildly constipated, but nothing else comes out at him. His face isn't as... inhuman? Sam's been staring at it an awful lot these past few days.
"Unfortunately not, Dean is coming up blank and I am not faring any better."
"Figured. You've been here more often than not."
"You worsen when I leave."
And he did. The first healing had given Sam hope that he would get better from the boost, but he had gotten worse not even a day later-- and the nightmares started the day after that. Sam scuffs his foot against the floor. Even with the angelic boost he was weak. Whatever he has is eating at him from the inside, which explains most of the things that he experienced up until now.
"The demon could have gone anywhere. It's been months," he bites the inside of his cheek. Sam looks off to the side anywhere but the angel he was dragging away from his home. A part of him relishes the feeling of purity that sings in him. It feels right, when all he's felt is the wrongness of his existence-- like he deserves to be here after all. It's dampened only by the reason he is being helped, but does it matter? (It does, of course it does, but Sam can lie to himself like no other.)
"The ghost was taken care of, so it's the only explanation."
"What happens if you can't find it?"
"Do not worry Sam, we will locate it." Castiel sounds so certain that Sam doesn't have the heart to explain himself. Sam might be imagining it, but Castiel looks worried.
"Thanks. Uh for everything, again." Sam laughs humorlessly. "Sorry you're stuck with me."
"I can leave anytime I want." Castiel says it so plainly. Matter of fact.
It hits Sam hard for such a simple statement. He could-- Castiel can go anywhere at anytime but he's delegating his time here. Sam had written Uriel's words off as nothing but the angel trying to freak him out(which he did), but maybe... Sam cuts the thought off, turning to face Castiel. He was across the room studying the wallpaper. Wishful thinking gets you nowhere. He'd learned that the hard way. You see what you want to, even if it's not there.
"Something else is bothering you." Castiel walks back over to him. He holds eye contact with Sam, unblinking. His deep blue eyes bear into him, demanding and righteous. Sam shrinks in his seat, trying not to break it too obvious. He lets his bangs covers his eyes. "I would prefer if you are truthful."
Sam can't even begin to articulate what he wants to say. They stare at each other for a long time. The silence is coated in electricity. Castiel's grace reaches out to him, not unlike Uriel's had. Last thing he needs is Castiel poking around in his head.
"How will you know you've found the right one? The guy's been dead for months-- the demon could be anywhere now, not to mention you didn't know there was something wrong me." No matter how many times Sam admits it, knowing that he has demon blood in him-- that was what made him different, it eats at him. It ways he didn't think possible. Putting a name to the issue didn't make him feel better. "You can't guarantee it won't infect someone else or..."
"If nothing else, you will be fine Sam."
Sam scoffs, but bites his lip and nods. "Okay."
The intensity drains from Castiel's face. He pats Sam's knee stiffly in an attempt to comfort him.
~*~
Sam shuts his laptop forlornly. Castiel left a few hours ago, as much as he enjoys the angel's company, time to himself is needed after... everything. He's not sick anymore, meaning Dean found the demon. He'd have liked to have been informed that Dean was doing it and by himself no less. Sam slumps in his chair, putting his knees on the edge of the table to keep him in place.
The front door opens and Dean stumbles in. He drops his duffel on the floor and with it his jacket and shoes.
"You killed it?"
Dean sheds his other layers until he's just in his under shirt and jeans. He looks dead tired and filthy. "Are you feeling better? No more symptoms." He isn't looking at Sam. His gaze is on the wall behind him. Sam adjusts himself, trying to get Dean to look at him.
"Healthy as a horse."
Dean drops onto his bed unceremoniously. "You should shower first," Sam says. His words fall on deaf ears. Dean snores loudly in lieu of a reply. Sam rocks back in his seat. He's antsy and with Dean back knowing he's not dying, he can finally go out. Being in here with his brother is making his stomach churn.
Sam pulls on his jacket and leaves the room hastily. It's not he couldn't have gone outside in those final days, but Dean would have thrown a fit, and while Sam can handle it, Castiel might've killed him. The angel seemed pretty worn down before he left and Sam has a few guesses as to why. He clears his head, breathing in the chill of the spring air. He loves spring. The beginning is normally wet and dreary but even that isn't the worst. Renewal of life and all that. Sam sidesteps puddles occasionally as he walks. There aren't many street lamps here, small town perks. Stars twinkle above him and as much as he'd like to lay and watch them, he's done more than enough laying around these past weeks than he has probably ever.
Sam only stops walking when his right leg begins cramping. He takes in his surroundings-- not too far from town, he can see the diner Dean'd been buying food from just beyond the trees. The tree line is expansive. It goes on for miles, only stopping at the mini bridge, but continuing on the other side. Sam settles on the bridge, swinging his legs over the ledge to sit. He sees his blurry reflection in the creek, around him are the glittering light from the stars. Now he allows himself to enjoy them. Head tipped back and a cool breeze billowing over him. Bugs chitter around the creek bed, leaves rustle and shift as animals creep behind cover.
The gentle cacophony stops all at once. Sam feels electricity build in the air, he turns around to face Uriel. His wings flutter behind him, Sam thinks he sees the outline in the shadows. The angel is as pristine the last time they spoke. Those brown eyes bear into him, demanding his attention.
"Samuel, you are looking well." Sam snaps into reality then. He scrambles up from his seat and smooths his hands over sleep rumbled clothes. Uriel watches him with thinly veiled disgust. "You do not listen well, do you?"
Doesn't take a genius to know what Uriel is talking about. "I didn't make him stay."
"You pull him from his duties, if something were to happen to him, that would be your fault."
"What?" Sam blinks at him in what must be a very idiotic fashion. Uriel's face remains impassive as he watches Sam work through what he's implying. With his message sent, Uriel takes off. His wings flap powerfully, disturbing the water below them and a few of the surrounding trees' leaves. Sam stares at the spot Uriel has stood in, uncomprehendingly.
Sam wishes that demon illness had killed him.