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It was a very weak, very lonely, very drunk mistake. It was inexcusably weak for a hunter who had bested Lucifer more than once, who had brought down gods and demons and Purgatory’s nastiest spew. It was stupid for a man who had carried an enviable grade point average at Stanford University, who had memorized every exorcism ever uncovered by Bobby Singer, Moishe Campbell or the Men of Letters, and could literally say them backward and forward under extreme pressure, who routinely hacked into the most secure databases on the continent. And it was despicable for a man whose whole life was purportedly dedicated to protecting the innocent and good from the world’s most evil.
But he was weak. He was lonely. And he was definitely very drunk.
Too much heart.
Too much heart was Castiel’s problem. Someone had said that to Dean once. Sam couldn’t remember who. Another angel, probably. They didn’t approve of heart. Sam did.
Dean called him the smart one. John had even said it more than once. Sam and Dean, the brain and the brawn. Sam knew better. Dean was a genius, with lore, with strategy. He could be an idiot at times, but that didn’t negate those other days, when Dean’s quick thinking saved their asses. Maybe Sam could tell a gorgon’s tooth from a basilisk’s claw by its weight, but when it came down to it, Sam would always trust Dean to call the play when the heat was on. Sam had once led a team of hunters into the gut of a Men of Letters stronghold, and won the day. But he would always be more comfortable letting Dean take charge.
It was something John had never gotten to see for himself. Dean wasn’t the brawn. He was the leader. Sam wasn’t the brain. He was the heart.
“Too much heart,” he murmured. “Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem.” Sam tossed the last bit of diamond dust into the mixture, with the siren’s blood, then lit the yarrow powder. He threw back another half shot of whiskey; he hadn’t had the dexterity to pour properly for at least a half hour now. Then he smirked up at the ceiling.
“You always come when Dean calls. Profound bond, and all that,” he slurred. “Ever think maybe the other brother needed a bond? Profound or shallow, I don’t care.”
He cared. He cared a lot. But he would take whatever he could get.
“Well? Come on down. I’m ready to be whatever I gotta be to get your attention. Let’s be honest, right? I helped save the whole damn world, lots of times. But I’m not a good person. So let’s just be disgusting and pathetic and horrible tonight. I’ve never had your attention any other way. So? Let’s try cheating.”
With this, he tossed the match into the second bowl, and completed the summoning.
The object of the summoning appeared, and it nearly startled Sam. Castiel frowned in confusion, and tipped his head in that way that always made Sam smile. “Sam? Did you...did you summon me?”
“Looks like.”
The eyes narrowed. “How?”
Sam snorted. “Crazy the shit you can find in the Men of Letters library. Apparently I can manage to summon an angel in spite of the gate issue and the no fly zone.”
Castiel nodded slowly. “Interesting. And potentially useful. Yet you seemed surprised to see me. Was I not the angel you were looking for? Or did you think it might not work?”
He stared up at his friend in open lechery, and leaned back in his chair. Castiel was always the angel he was looking for. “I knew it would work,” he answered absently, letting his gaze paint over the beautiful vessel.
Blue eyes watched him thoughtfully. “Sam? You’re quite inebriated. It isn’t a healthy idea to play with magic while imbibing.”
He snorted a laugh. “You know what’s not healthy, Cas? Being alone on Christmas.”
“I see. Where is Dean?”
“Not alone,” he said in a sardonic voice. “He’s out. Because he can be. Because that’s all he needs and all he wants. Because hooking up with some lonely woman in a bar on Christmas is a win for him. Mr. Right-Now.”
“You sometimes do the same,” Castiel said mildly.
“Not like he does. I do it when I can’t stand being alone anymore, when I need somebody to touch me so bad my skin hurts.”
Fascination lit those intense blue eyes now, and the angel took a step toward him.
One more step was probably all it would take.
“I didn’t know you felt that way, Sam. Dean has always been more…”
“Whorish?” Sam snorted, as he reached for his bottle again.
Castiel smiled with a bit of amusement. He stepped forward to take hold of the bottle. “Affectionate,” he corrected gently, and he put the bottle out of reach, then rested his hand on Sam’s arm.
It was working. Sam lifted his gaze from the hand up into the angel’s handsome face. When he spoke, it was with quiet awe. “What do you see? Right now. What do I seem like to you?”
Castiel’s smile took on some of its earlier confusion. “I see Sam.”
The hunter waved this away. “No, no. I mean, what am I for you? Another angel? A woman? It’s not Dean, is it? God, please don’t let it be Dean.”
“Sam, you’re very drunk. I see you.”
A twinge of anger made him look away. “Yeah, I’m drunk. I’m drunk a lot. But I’m something else, something you want, and I want to know what!” When he looked back up, he couldn’t help the hurt written into his expression. He hoped it didn’t mar the illusion.
Castiel licked at his lips. “Sam? There are two casting bowls here. One is needed for my summoning, and other than experimentation with a new spell, you’ve given me no explanation for bringing me to the bunker, except perhaps that you desired company in Dean’s absence. The other bowl seems to have also been used. What other magic have you indulged in while drunk?”
Sam blinked back sudden tears, and shoved the angel’s hand away. He stood shakily, and stumbled back. “It doesn’t matter. It clearly didn’t work.”
But Castiel’s hands were back, gripping his arms to steady him, and he was so strong, but so full of gentle concern, and Sam wanted to laugh nearly as much as he wanted to cry until he passed out. “What was the spell for, Sam? I can smell the components, but I don’t know what their purpose-“
Laughter won out, but the tears streamed down his cheeks anyway, and he wasn’t sure which alarmed the angel more, or which was more humiliating. “The purpose doesn’t matter!” he spat. “It didn’t work! You still see nothing when you look at me!”
“Sam, I don’t see nothing. I see you.”
“Yeah! Nothing!” He shoved Castiel away, and backed up, then moved forward again with an accusing stab of his finger. “Just once! Just once, I wanted to be what you wanted! I don’t even care what! Whatever you wanted, whatever made you want me, I wanted to be that just once! So what is it? What would a siren have to be for you? I figured it had to be an angel in a female vessel. Dark hair, right, or red? That’s what you like. What is it that makes you want? It doesn’t matter, because I can’t be it, but I want to know!” His voice broke now, but he didn’t even hear it. “I just...I just want to know…”
Castiel was staring at him now. “A siren? Sam, I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered a siren, but they are truly horrible creatures-“
He burst into laughter again, until he fell back into his chair with exhaustion. “Horrible creatures. Cas, I’m the most horrible creature you know. A siren at least is doing what’s in its nature to do, and that might be horrible, but...But me!”
“Sam, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”
“You can’t understand. Everything you do is for the greater good. Even when you’re screwing up, it’s for the greater good. You can’t even imagine doing something selfish.”
Suddenly, Castiel’s expression became unreadable. There was a small smile there, but Sam couldn’t tell why. “No? Have I never been selfish? Am I so different from the humans I love that you think I can’t be selfish at times? Don’t you think I ever do something just because I want to?”
“You?” Sam snorted. “Cas, did you ever hear about the time I got myself roofied? By a demon and a psycho fangirl. It was awful. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Ever. But I told myself this was different. I’m not doing anything to you. I’m just changing me into something you want. So I could have what I need. Win win, right? Except that’s probably how Becky saw it too. And now I gotta live with being as bad and pathetic as Becky Rosen and her demonic dealer, and it didn’t even work. Because you still look at me and see nothing.”
Understanding lit Castiel’s eyes, and he shook his head. “You think...Sam, how can you think I see nothing when I see you?”
Frustration forced him into a cringe, and the alcohol churned angrily in his stomach. “Not like that! Of course you can see me, Cas! You can’t understand!”
But the angel was frowning now. “I think you are the one who doesn’t understand, Sam,” he said quietly. “Did you work with magic to make yourself appear pleasing? To me?”
Humiliation and shame made his vision blur as surely as his tears. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work.”
“Of course it didn’t!”
“Because you’re an angel.”
“Because you’re Sam!”
The words stumbled through a whiskey-drenched, guilt-ridden path, pocked with self-loathing, in Sam’s mind before he found a way to make sense of them. He nodded miserably then. “Because I’m Sam, and there’s no way I could ever be what you want. The spell didn’t work because I’m so antithetic to what you want that even magic can’t make it seem like I’m-“
“What? Sam, stop. You’re very drunk, and you’re twisting my words. The spell didn’t work, because I already see who I want!”
Sam swallowed hard. Suddenly he was certain he was going to vomit. “You...you met someone? God, Cas,” he gasped through a sob. “That’s-that’s great! I’m so sorry I tried to...No, it’s really great. Really, I’m glad. I know it’s probably been lonely for you, and...and I’m glad. An angel, right? In a female vessel, who-who is...It’s good. I hope she’s good to you. You know we can’t always-or even usually-trust angels, but I hope she-I want someone to be good to you.” He couldn’t calm his gasping, or control his speech. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, but it sounded like it was becoming a hysterical apology. “Someone should be good to you. I just wanted to be good to you.”
Then Castiel’s hands were on his face, lifting him to lock their gazes, and, while Sam was lost deep in a sea of blue, two fingers caressed his temple.
The sick feeling disappeared. So too did the intoxicating poison, and the dizzy disorientation. Relief fell heavy onto him, and he sighed it out just as he might have if Castiel had healed him of a wound. Just as quickly, the shame draped over him too. “Oh, my god. Cas, I’m so sorry! What the hell was I thinking?” He stumbled to his feet, and backed away from his friend in horror. “Castiel,” he breathed. “I’m so, so sorry. I got messed up. Really messed up. I started screwing around with some spells I found while I was drinking, and...Please, let’s forget this whole stupid night. Can we?”
The angel licked his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Sam? You’ve talked a lot tonight. You sometimes use a lot more words than you really need to. Did you know that? And you use far too many when you are trying not to say something in particular.”
Sam could feel his face flushing hot, in spite of suddenly being clean of alcohol. “Yeah. I-I know. You complain about my voice messages sometimes.”
“And you often seem to speak before you’ve thought of something to say.”
Where was Dean when Sam needed someone to hide behind?
Castiel continued, in his slow and cautious way. “Sam, if you’re now free of the effects of alcohol, I’d like to say something myself. Will you listen?”
“Of-of course!”
He nodded, then paused. It was two terrifying beats before he spoke again. “Sam, you cast a spell to make yourself appear pleasing to me, in a way similar to a siren seeking prey.”
Sam cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.
“While I don’t know the spell itself, I can explain its impotence. Sam Winchester, you have always appeared pleasing to me. Therefore, when I look at you while you are affected by that spell, I yet see Sam, as you have always been, because I have always found you desirable. You don’t change in any way, because I already love you exactly as you have always been. I don’t see nothing. I see Sam, and Sam is everything.”
Salty lips parted in silent shock, and his eyes opened again to stare.
Castiel sighed, and reached to take hold of Sam’s hand. He wrapped his other hand over them warmly, the way he had when they met for the first time, when Sam had been so in awe that he had, as Castiel said, spoken before he had thought of something to say.
“Cas?” It was a breath, the last one he had, since he suddenly couldn’t take another.
The angel smiled sadly. “Sam, I’m sorry you’ve been lonely. I have been too. And when I look at you...I see exactly what I want, always. Had I thought for even an instant that you might feel the same, I promise you that I never would have let you spend a moment in loneliness.”
Then came the breath, and it was a shaky, gasping sob, but it was also a stuttered laugh. Sam held tight to the hands that held tight to him. “Castiel. Please, Cas. Even if it’s just the magic, I want to believe it’s true, just for a little while.”
Castiel looked into his eyes, seeking permission no other angel, demon, monster or human had ever bothered to find before taking from Sam what they wanted. Even Lucifer had never truly given him a choice. Castiel was the only one who cared about his will. It made it that much more beautiful to give it up to him.
The hunter languished in the kiss as long as the universe would let him. It was soft and sweet and full of truth.
Then Castiel was speaking, so near that his lips still brushed Sam’s. “You have never known true free will, and you have had only your brother to love you freely. You think manipulation is the only way anyone will want something from you. That the only way you can be loved is by someone taking from you, twisting you into what they want you to be. Sam, you never have to be or allow anything that isn’t simply Sam. I will love and adore you just as you are, and if things about you change, I will love you then too. I will not force you to be what you are not, and I will never ask you to change any part of you for me.”
Tears streamed down his face, splashing into Castiel’s coat, and soaking into the fabric, leaving little dark parts of Sam behind. They would dry, but they would always be there when Sam saw the pale coat, and he would always remember the Christmas night he had literally cried onto Castiel’s shoulder. “How do you know?” he hissed brokenly.
“That you have been used so many times, by so many monsters, that you think it is the only way you can be loved? Because so have I.” Castiel lifted his chin to look deep into his worried gaze. “I have always measured my worth by my usefulness, to Heaven, to my brethren, to the Winchesters. It is why I sometimes disappear for long periods of time, because I cannot make myself return to you and Dean without some kind of win, some information or something I can show as a contribution to the team.”
“God, Cas! I didn’t realize…”
But the angel shook his head. “But we both deserve more than that. We are each worth more than what we can contribute. We each, Sam, deserve to be loved for what we are and not for what purpose we can serve. So you will not change yourself to suit my needs or desires, through magic or any other way. You will simply be Sam, and I will love you for that, and neither of us will face loneliness so long as we can be loved for ourselves between one another.”
Tears splashed down as he nodded. He grabbed Castiel into his arms, and held fast to the promise. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted with an anxious laugh.
Castiel closed him into his arms protectively, and spoke with gentle confidence. “This is the part where you love back.”