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It was easily the longest stairway Sam had ever seen in his life. Solid white marble spiraled up, with gold-plated banisters protecting the outer edges as it spiraled around – without touching – a central silver pillar. With the fire burning his feet, Sam figured it was his best bet – running up the stairs would at least get him high enough that the flames couldn’t get to him, and he could figure out what to do next then.
He glanced back after one complete circuit, finding that his footprints were burned black into the marble. Now he felt bad. That was him, ruining everything he touched. Still, the only thing he could do was keep going up, as those flames were still threatening to climb and get him.
After another circuit, it occurred to Sam to wonder what had happened to his shoes, as he now stood barefoot on the marble. Instead of cooling his feet, it still burned, and the black footprints still lingered behind him. Somehow, the flames were still climbing, so Sam gritted his teeth and started back up.
His feet still burning, Sam stopped for a quick rest. He didn’t know how many circuits he’d made, and he could no longer see the bottom of the staircase. He could see the spiral of his footprints, black against the stark whiteness of the marble, all the way down to the flames, but now, he could also see a shadowy figure above him. The figure spread its wings, and a cool breeze wafted down and blew Sam’s hair back from his face.
The coolness gave him the courage to keep climbing. He still couldn’t see the top of the staircase, and he could no longer see the bottom, which gave him a weird sense of being in some kind of… liminal space. Nothing here felt real. Nothing here felt right. Only the wind on his face made any kind of sense at all.
Then it started raining, as if that made sense, either. The rain made the tile slick, but it also cooled Sam’s feet. He was still leaving the black footprints, but they no longer burned as he climbed. The rain didn’t seem to have any effect on the fire below him, which kept climbing, somehow. Sam held tight to the golden banister and climbed as quickly as he could.
Sam’s foot slipped, and he grabbed tightly to the banister to keep from falling down the stairs. He couldn’t stop himself from hitting his head on a step above him, and he heard a vaguely familiar voice shouting. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was clear – someone was getting told off for something. Another voice, also familiar, responded roughly and equally incomprehensibly. Sam carefully pushed himself back to his feet and resumed his climb.
The wind from above resumed – Sam hadn’t even noticed when it had stopped. Despite the rain, it still felt welcome, cooling his face and blowing the rain away from him. Sam glanced up at the shadowy figure, still as far above him as before. The black wings gleamed in the firelight, and Sam squinted at them. They looked… familiar, somehow.
The longer Sam looked, the more familiar the figure appeared, and finally he gasped and started running up the stairs. Never mind the rain and the fire and the wind – whatever was going on, Castiel would know, and would save him from it. Castiel kept rising, but slowly, and Sam could just glimpse the top of the stairway when he finally reached out and caught Castiel’s hand. There was a gateway, gleaming a bright pearly white, but there wasn’t time to really look at it as Castiel’s wings wrapped around Sam and the two of them faded.
Everything was dark now, but Sam felt comfortable, safe in a bed. His bed. His bed in the Bunker.
The shouty voice from earlier spoke again, and this time, Sam recognized it as Dean. “What the fuck. I thought you said his fever had broken. Why’s he still asleep?”
“He’s asleep because he’s still exhausted from fighting off the infection,” Castiel said. Castiel had been the other voice. “Or he’s not asleep, he’s just slow to open his eyes, because he’s exhausted but he wants to know what’s been going on. Sam, you can hear me, can’t you?”
“Yh.” Sam forced his eyes open and tried that again. “Yeah. I can hear you. What… what happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it happened, Dean isn’t exactly being forthcoming, but you had some kind of infection that was slowly killing you. Your feet are badly burned. Dean can’t or won’t tell me how that happened. Do you know?”
Sam shook his head. “No idea. At least, not one that makes any sense. Thanks for saving me, Cas. We don’t say that anywhere near often enough.”
“Thank you. That’s much appreciated.” Castiel smoothed Sam’s hair off of his forehead. “This was a particularly difficult one – it seemed to resist angelic healing. The first time I tried to heal you, your fever spiked, and then you broke out in a rather profuse sweat. Then you started screaming and pushed my hand away, after the second attempt, but I think it did some good anyway. When you had calmed down and let me touch you again, your fever broke.”
“God, Sammy, don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” Dean hauled Sam up into a hug. “Thought I was gonna have to go tussle with a Reaper again, for a second there, before Cas was able to get you healed.”
“If I knew what I did, I’d promise not to do it again, but… I don’t, Dean. I’ll try?”
“Fine. See that you do.” Dean got up and walked out, most likely after a beer.
Castiel continued petting Sam’s hair. “I’m glad you’re all right. I love you.”
“I love you too. I dunno what that was, but I was having the weirdest hallucinations… fire and rain and you. I think my mind was trying to tell me what you were doing, and you saved me. Thanks.”