Archive of Our Own

Dean had always said there was nothing worse than witches. As their latest hunt went south, no matter how far Rowena had come toward showing Sam the advantages of having a friendly witch on retainer, Sam was inclined to agree with him.

Cas and Dean had circled around the little cabin in the woods to cut off any chance for the witch they'd tracked there to escape, while Sam charged through the front door alone. That had apparently been the moment the witch had been waiting for. He’d lobbed a hex bag at Sam’s head, shouted out an incantation, and then bowled Sam down in a bid for freedom. Sam lay on the floor and rubbed purple glitter out of his eyes, choking on a cloud of acrid smoke.

“A little parting gift for you,” the witch shouted over his shoulder as he jumped on a motorcycle and sped off into the night.

And then the voices had started.

At first, Sam thought Dean and Cas were just speaking aloud as they ran to his side.  It’s not like he could see them yet, still blinded by the flash bang of the spell, and for all he knew they were both standing in the room with him already. It was obvious they didn’t have a hope of catching up to the witch on the treacherous hiking trails on foot, so Dean and Cas had quickly run to Sam’s aid. Only the words he heard didn’t entirely make sense.

“Holy shit that witch is dead if he so much as singed Sammy’s eyebrows,” and “Dean will be very upset if Sam is injured and I can’t heal him immediately,” and “Why the fuck did I let Sam go through the front door alone, I knew we should’ve had a better plan,” and “Sam seems to be physically unharmed, at least Dean won’t spend the rest of the night blaming himself for this.”

Yeah, definitely not quite right.

“I’m okay, guys,” Sam said, getting unsteadily to his feet as Dean and Cas found their way to him through the freshly kicked-in back door. “He hit me with some sort of magical smoke bomb and then ran me over on his way out the door.”

He brushed sparkly dust from his shoulders, wobbled, and coughed again as he breathed even more of it in. Dean tried to rush to his side to help steady him, but Cas held him back. Remarkably, Dean let him.

“We don’t know what sort of spell the witch attempted to cast,” Cas told Dean. “Or if it’s still potentially active.”

That’s what Cas said out loud, but Sam could hear what Cas wasn’t saying. “I can’t let you get yourself cursed if I have the power to save you from it.”

Dean didn’t say anything at all, and yet… Sam heard him. “Shit, he probably just saved my ass again. He’s still got his hand around my wrist. If I fight him, he might hold on a little longer. Maybe squeeze a little harder."  And Sam watched Dean do just that.

“Dean, be reasonable,” Cas scolded him, holding his wrist tighter and turning slightly to block Dean’s forward progress with his own body, while glancing over at Sam. “Let’s figure out what happened before putting all of us in danger for nothing.” I can’t lose you again.

Well, this was interesting, Sam thought, watching this half-silent drama unfold. He nearly forgot that he’d been the subject of their concern until Dean finally turned his glare from Cas to him.

“You sure you’re good, Sam? Not about to melt down into a puddle of goo we’re gonna have to scoop into a bucket to carry you home?”

Sam watched the two of them curiously for a moment, listening to the ongoing rumble of bizarrely fascinating things they very obviously were not saying with their mouths before finally tearing his eyes away to look down at himself. The cloud of purple dust had all but disappeared, fading away with whatever spell the witch had hurled at him. The last of the sparkles twinkled out of existence as he watched, and a quick examination of his hands showed no sign of the magical residue.

Except Dean and Cas were still lowkey mumbling in his direction, even though neither of them said a single word out loud.

Sam cleared his throat, and the murmur died away. “Yeah, I think the danger’s past.”

Dean immediately tried to come closer for a more thorough examination, but Cas still held him back. For the first time in his life, Sam actually heard one of Dean and Cas’s silent conversations.

“He said he’s fine, Cas. You gotta let me make sure for myself.” Dean’s pleading eyes, locked on Cas, conveyed the sentiment perfectly, Sam thought.

“At least let me confirm it’s safe before you risk yourself ,” Cas’s return glare seemed to imply. “I’m far less likely to be injured by a fading spell, and far more likely to be able to detect any lingering effect. Let me do this for you, Dean. It’s one of the few things I can still spare you from.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod, assuring Cas enough to release his wrist and cautiously approach Sam. All of Sam’s attention was still on Dean, though.

“You better not get yourself hurt because of me, Cas.”

As Cas got closer, though, Sam turned his attention to the jumble of words that it was becoming clearer and clearer that Cas was only thinking, and not actually saying out loud. Only some of which he understood, while a good number of others sounded like Latin or Enochian. Sam held out a hand in front of him to stop Cas from getting any closer, and this time it was Dean who reached out a hand to stop Cas.

“Uh, um… I think I know what the witch did to me,” Sam said cautiously as Dean tugged Cas back to his side with a relieved gush of emotion that barely contained any sort of rational words at all. He decided to focus as much as he could on Cas, instead. “Is it possible to hex someone into being psychic?”

Cas tilted his head while Dean said, “You mean like you used to get visions years ago? Are you having some sort of premonition again?”

Sam shook his head. “No, but I think I’m hearing every thought that goes through your minds. Uh, both of you.”

Cas gave him a slow once over from head to toe and back, as if trying to give Sam’s entire soul a three dimensional scan. “Interesting,” was all Cas said out loud to that.

“Wait, so you’re tapping into our brains?” Dean said. “What am I thinking about right now?” he asked, and then stared at Sam with comic levels of intensity, as if that would help beam his thoughts into Sam’s head.

“You’re hoping I’m just messing with you, because you want to get back to civilization where you can get some burgers and figure out what the witch’s next move is gonna be.”

Dean scoffed and let go of Cas’s arm so he could stomp dramatically across the room, right up into Sam's face. “You forgot the pie. Again. Burgers and pie .”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That’s the part of this that you’re upset about?”

“What, you can’t tell?” Dean shot back.

Sam just shook his head. He could tell perfectly, unfortunately.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to tune into the witch’s thoughts and know where he’s going now?” Cas asked, putting aside the freakiness of this situation to think about how they might turn this little hiccup to their advantage.

Sam concentrated for a minute, focusing on the split-second glimpse he'd gotten of the witch before everything went hazy, even closing his eyes, but let out a disappointed sigh. “No, sorry. Either I’m just tuned into the two of you, or it might be a proximity thing and he’s just too far away now.”

“Right, well, he was headed toward town when he sped outta here,” Dean said. “And if proximity’s a factor, maybe you’ll pick up his brainwaves if we get close enough to him again.”

“Dean, I don’t think--” Cas started, but Dean cut him off.

“I don’t think he’s gonna be coming back here any time soon, anyway,” Dean said, gesturing around at the empty cabin, now complete with two shattered doors. “We need to start hiking back before he skips town altogether.” He cast a glance at Sam and added, “And see how far Sam’s psychic radio range extends. If he’s gonna be picking up all our stray thoughts, I’d like to know if there’s a limit.”

Cas nodded appreciatively at Dean, and Sam was taken aback at the difference between what ran through Cas’s mind and what came out of his mouth. The fondly affectionate thought about Dean’s intellect and care was swallowed up under his acceptance of the practical difficulties their immediate situation posed.

“That’s probably a good idea. Sam will be overwhelmed if we discover he can pick up the thoughts of everyone in his vicinity. It will be good to know how much distance he needs to keep to avoid picking up the thoughts of random strangers. If this effect is merely limited to the two of us and our thoughts, regardless of range, that is also something we probably need to know,” Cas said, frowning.

“Guess we should break out the tinfoil hats, then,” Dean said, then stormed out the front door. “Come on, Cas. We should take the lead and let Sam bring up the rear.” He turned back to Sam as Cas caught up to him. “And you, let us know if we get far enough away you can’t hear what we’re thinking. Capisce?”

“Just… try to think unsexy thoughts anyway,” Sam said with a shudder. “For my sake.”

Dean smirked at him, but Sam could tell he was at least trying to keep his thoughts from straying too far from their current predicament, so the lascivious look Dean threw his way lost its usual power to taunt him. He gave the two of them a five minute head start, and then headed off down the trail after them for the twenty minute walk back to town.

For the first few minutes, Sam didn’t really get much insight into their innermost thoughts. He was grateful they really were focused entirely on the witch, and what the consequences of Sam’s psychic curse might be. They kept up a steady conversation out loud, and Sam only caught occasional stray thoughts that didn’t seem to line up with the words he could still hear in the distance. He let them get a little farther ahead, wondering whether letting them get out of shouting range would also get them out of psychic range. Unfortunately the curse didn’t seem to work that way, and he could still hear both halves of their conversation, as well as their silent reactions, clear as a bell inside his mind.

While Dean and Cas hatched plans for research into the curse and whether they could reverse it, little stray notes of concern crept into each of their minds, only to be forcefully squashed down and redirected into safer lines of thought. Sam, unfortunately, bore witness to all of them.

Dean’s fear that Sam would not take this specific curse well after his history of demon blood-related psychic trauma. Cas’s fear that Sam would simply be overwhelmed by psychic information and suffer as a result of the sheer volume of thoughts assaulting him from all sides. Yeah, they both worried about him, and in a strange way, it actually warmed his heart and bolstered his spirits. But there were other thoughts, as well. Thoughts that he really, really wished he hadn’t been forced to overhear. It was bad enough that he’d been watching their… whatever it was… play out for the last decade, but being subjected to the full force of their combined idiocy was almost too much to bear.

In addition to Dean’s very real concerns about Sam’s well being, Sam picked up random twinges of fear that he’d see things inside Dean’s mind that he really had no business seeing. At least, Dean didn’t think Sam had any business seeing it. Stray thoughts about Cas were quickly stifled by what sounded like well worn reminders of his own personal unworthiness, and then even those thoughts were squashed down in a panicked rush to get back to the subject at hand.

Cas, too, occasionally let his thoughts drift while distracted by Dean talking, only to forcefully lock down what felt to Sam like a comfortable and comforting contemplation of Dean. Sam almost felt bad that this curse was probably the only reason Cas wasn’t allowing himself that tiny bit of what was obviously a great source of happiness.

Cas didn’t really engage in a lot of casual happiness. Sure, he’d go along with whatever he thought would make Dean happy, but spending more than a decade mooning over Dean and getting so little back for it struck Sam as more of an act of self-flagellation than anything approaching conventional happiness. Meanwhile, Dean spent most of his time hating himself for even thinking he was entitled to get what he wanted. It was a vicious cycle that left Sam feeling exhausted after less than half an hour subjected to it. He couldn’t even imagine how Dean or Cas lived with it 24/7.

Or how he was gonna live with it much longer, if they couldn’t find the witch again. Or if this curse didn’t start to show some signs of breaking on its own. Yeah, for now he was running through the facts of the case over and over again to keep himself from unintentionally eavesdropping on anything he didn’t want to hear. The closer they got to town, though, and the longer Dean and Cas tried to rehash the same conversation over and over again to keep their thoughts from straying, the less effective that became. By the time he felt Dean’s relief on finding Baby exactly where he’d left her, unharmed by the witch or anyone else, Sam had resorted to repeating the multiplication tables, reciting the states in alphabetical order, and conjugating Spanish verbs to avoid paying too much attention to their increasingly unguarded thoughts. So much so that he didn’t even notice when he almost ran into a dude walking his dog along the sidewalk between the edge of the woods and the parking lot where they’d stashed Baby.

“Watch where you’re going,” the guy complained, glaring at Sam.

He apologized and then stood there, watching the man go. He hadn’t heard him coming at all, not a single stray thought. Not even from the dog, who’d seemed far less judgmental over the near collision than his owner was. He was startled out of his thoughts by an internal groan from Dean and a feeling of immediate concern from Cas, both of whom he could now see sitting in the front seat of the Impala waiting for him. Cas was first out of the car, practically running to his side.

Is he already experiencing psychic trauma? Is there too much mental activity in town for Sam to feel at ease here?

He held up his hands and tried to paste a smile on his face, despite the concern wafting off both Cas and Dean as they got closer.

“I’m good,” he called out to them. “I can still only hear the two of you, though. So I guess we can rule out proximity as a factor.”

“So, what, you just got a direct line into both of our heads?” Dean asked, stopping a few yards away from Cas as if that might keep him from having any inappropriate thoughts with Sam standing right there.

Sam knew that’s exactly what he was thinking, and it took everything in him to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Sam said, no longer caring that his face clearly displayed his discontent. If he had a direct line into their thoughts, the least they deserved was an honest reply from him. “And distance doesn’t seem to help, either.”

Cas frowned while Dean threw his hands in the air, spun on his heel and stomped back to the car.

“So we got no idea where the witch went from here, no idea how to disconnect Sam’s brain from ours, and no idea why the fuck a witch thought that spell would be a good idea in any universe,” Dean said, opening the driver’s side door and glaring at Sam and Cas to get in the car already.

Sam may have heard that request loud and clear, and acted on it without thinking. He was only mildly surprised when Cas did, as well.

“I suppose we’re going to get burgers and pie now?” Cas asked from the back seat when Dean started the engine.

Sam rubbed a hand over his eyes, already exhausted from this mental ordeal, and answered when Dean only rolled his eyes at Cas in the rear view mirror. “We passed a diner last night that Dean wants to check out. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

Cas took a deep breath, nodded, and relaxed into the back seat, content with this course of action.

It wasn’t a long ride, but almost as soon as Dean started driving, he began thinking in a specifically focused manner, giving Sam several significant looks out the corner of his eye to confirm that Sam was picking up everything he was trying to tell him without speaking aloud.

“So, uh, if you’re gonna be stuck eavesdropping on everything that runs through my head until we get that fixed, you know I can’t control what goes on up there 24/7.” Dean paused and rolled his head just enough to raise an eyebrow at Sam.

Sam assumed Dean was trying to be cool and not let Cas know he was having this silent conversation with Sam. Meanwhile he could hear Cas holding an internal debate over whether he should attempt this exact sort of conversation without letting Dean in on it. Until Cas made his decision, Sam chose to focus as much as possible on Dean, since he’d already committed to it. He gave a very slight nod of his head, which seemed to satisfy Dean.

“There’s probably gonna be some stuff in there that you’re not gonna want to see.”

Sam was about to cut him off out loud, but Dean just glared at him until Sam subsided, forcing himself to listen to whatever it was Dean needed to tell him. Sam just wanted Dean to put his eyes back on the road, so he held up his hands in surrender.

“I’m not talking about Hell or anything like that,” Dean said in his head, assuming that’s what Sam was going to object to. “I mean… personal shit. Private shit. I, uh… just, stuff I have never said out loud, and maybe never would say out loud. Fuck, why is this so hard…”

Sam was perfectly willing to let Dean have the space to sort through his muddled thoughts, as much as he could with a bird’s eye view of the entire process whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t have to wait long before Dean heaved a huge sigh, gritted his teeth, and pulled into a parking spot in front of the diner. He shut off the engine and then just sat there, staring out the front window at the pink and blue neon lights reflected in the shiny aluminum siding of the building and blurring together on the gleaming black hood of the car.

“Please tell me you already figured it out that I’m not the womanizing jerk I pretend to be.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he slowly turned to look at Dean, who just kept staring out the front window. Cas chose that moment to break into their conversation, leaning over the front seat between them.

“I take it you’re having a moment,” he said, using the finger quotes he hadn’t brought out in a while. “If you’d like a few minutes, I can go inside and get a table for us…”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam replied. “Yeah, we’ll be right in.”

Dean just glanced at him in the rear view mirror and gave him a little nod. Cas returned it, and then slid out of the car. He walked into the diner without a glance back at them, picking up a menu and focusing his entire attention on it. Sam only found it a little bit distracting, but it was kinda nice that he’d already decided what he wanted to order for dinner before Dean finally spoke out loud.

“So you probably already know what I’m trying to say, here, right?” Dean said, bringing Sam’s attention back to him.

Dean still stared out the front window, but Sam didn’t need Dean to look at him, or even to think at him to see the technicolor ball of tangled thoughts flying through Dean’s mind. Dean just sat there letting it all run like a fast forward movie, hoping that Sam would get it without him having to put words to it. Sam saw all of it-- from the girlfriends he’d known about like Amanda Heckerling and Cassie Robinson to a slew of others that seemed vaguely familiar, alongside a long string of men he’d mostly never met. Lisa was in there for a hot minute, but toward the end, as he watched Dean squeeze his eyes shut as if that would make this any easier, he caught glimpses of Hell and flashes of light that resolved into Cas. Nothing but Cas, and an overwhelming feeling of warmth, safety, comfort, and happiness. Sam recognized that feeling, knew exactly what it was.

“I’ve been trying to let you know for years I was okay with you being bi,” Sam said when Dean's current line of thought showed no sign of ending. “I mean you never said anything about it, but it’s kinda hard to miss. I figured as long as you weren’t talking about it, you understood it didn’t bother me or anything.”

Dean opened his eyes, but stared down at his hands in his lap, nodding slowly. He heaved a huge breath and then looked up through the window of the diner, spotting Cas standing there by the door, still intently focused on the menu. Sam didn’t miss the soft smile on Dean’s face as his thoughts returned to a low-level fondness.

“How many times has he read through the whole menu?” Dean asked quietly.

“He just started in on the entrees for the fourth time,” Sam replied.

“You can’t tell him, Sam,” Dean said, sounding resigned. “Don’t matter what you might see in my head. You gotta fucking keep it to yourself.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “How long have you been keeping that bottled up?”

Dean shrugged and finally glanced over at Sam. “Years. So please don’t fuck this up for me now, okay? We finally got him sticking around for once. Last thing I need is to scare him off permanently, you know? I never even would’ve told you if you weren’t Young Frankenstein’ed into my brain.”

“Dean, it's not--” Sam started, but Dean cut him off with a glare.

“No, Sam. I know it ain’t your fault, and you can’t help seeing what you see in my head. I will do my damnedest to make sure it stays PG up in there, but that does not give you the right to fuck up my life over it. Or his life, for that matter.”

“But--”

“Sam…” Dean said, refusing to budge while Sam wrestled over what to do with any of this.

“Fine,” he huffed, getting out of the car. “But just remember, I’ve got a hotline hooked up to his brain, too.”

Dean sat in the car for another minute until Sam made it inside the diner, and then followed behind them slowly as a waitress led Sam and Cas to a table. He swung by the table, told them to order him a bacon cheeseburger with extra onions, and then headed to the men’s room. Sam assumed he was just going there to sulk in private for a few minutes, and was disappointed that he’d been right.

“Would you like to see the menu?” Cas asked Sam, sliding it across the table slowly.

Sam laughed. “You read it through four times. I think I’m getting the mandarin chicken salad.”

“That did sound pleasant,” Cas replied, letting go of the menu and dropping his hand to his lap as the waitress came over and filled their water glasses.

Sam surprised her by placing his order already, and then Cas surprised Sam by ordering himself the same bacon cheeseburger that he’d ordered for Dean. When the waitress left, Dean still hadn’t returned, and Sam could hear him working up the nerve to face both him and Cas again.

“I, uh, hope your conversation with Dean wasn’t too uncomfortable,” Cas began hesitantly. “It must be difficult for both of you, this loss of privacy.”

Sam nodded, still aware that there was something that Cas was carefully avoiding thinking about. It made him realize that this was probably something that Cas was actually used to.

“I kinda feel like I’m eavesdropping on angel radio here,” Sam said.

Cas laughed bitterly. “Yes, though it’s a conscious choice for angels to enter another’s thoughts, or to broadcast our thoughts for anyone to hear. I’m sorry this happened to you against your will, Sam.”

Sam shrugged a little awkwardly. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, reverse the spell. Or maybe it’ll just wear off on its own.”

“That would be ideal,” Cas agreed. “But we shouldn’t count on that happening. Perhaps you should contact Rowena for advice.”

Sam sat up straight, eyes gone wide. “Huh, that’s probably not a bad idea. She might at least have some ideas for how to break the spell.”

This probably wasn’t gonna be the sort of phone call he wanted to make inside the crowded diner. He was about to slide out of the booth to step outside for a minute when Cas grabbed his wrist and held him back. When he had Sam’s startled attention, Cas spoke out loud, low, quiet, and filled with tension that Sam could see in his eyes.

“I’ve been using my grace to shield some of my thoughts from you, and to... redirect others as best I can. But it’s been taxing, and I’m not sure how much longer I can maintain that control.”

Sam blinked at him for a second and settled back into the booth, leaning his elbows on the table between them and speaking quietly as Cas released his wrist.

“Is that why you ordered yourself food? You don’t have to wear yourself down like that on my account, Cas.”

Cas shook his head, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “There’s things I think you might find… distressing… to see in my mind.”

“What, like… angel stuff? It’s not gonna burn my eyes out or anything, right?” It hadn’t even occurred to him before that, but the last psychic he knew of who pushed directly into Cas telepathically had suffered that exact fate.

Cas’s mouth dropped open before he slammed it shut again, leaning across the table to reassure Sam. “Oh, no, Sam. That shouldn’t be an issue at all. First of all, Pamela forced me to reveal my true form to her. She didn't attempt to read my thoughts. And that was years ago. I, uh…” He looked down at himself, plucking at the lapel of his coat. “I think this is my true form now. I don’t even have the power to maintain a complete defense against a witch’s spell without draining what little grace I have left. I think you will be physically safe, regardless.”

“Shit, Cas, you really don’t have to worry about it, then. Whatever I see in there, I swear it can’t be worse than that. You don’t have to waste your grace trying to protect me, okay?”

Cas shrugged. “It’s immaterial at this point. But I need to confess that when my control inevitably fails, there are things that you may see that are potentially… compromising.”

He looked down at the table, unable to hold Sam’s gawping stare any longer. Sam almost laughed at that, after watching him and Dean perfect their weird staring contests over the years.

“I feel particularly ill at ease knowing that my secrets won’t be my own anymore. All I ask is that you keep whatever you might see to yourself.”

Sam scoffed at that, which drew Cas’s attention back to him, at least. “You can’t think I’d violate your trust like that. I swear, whatever I see or hear I plan to do my best to forget entirely. In fact, if it makes you happier, I’ll give you permission to zap those thoughts outta my head afterward.”

“No, Sam. I won’t do that to you. I don’t even think I can anymore, but I wouldn’t attempt it under any circumstances. The risk isn't worth it. I do trust you. I just need to know that you won’t share anything you might see with your brother under any circumstances.” He glanced back toward the bathrooms where Dean still hadn’t emerged yet. “Our relationship is far to important to me to put it at risk for any reason. Do you understand?”

Again, Sam did his best not to laugh, because yeah, it was painfully, agonizingly ridiculous. If Cas’s deepest, darkest thoughts ran anywhere near parallel to Dean’s then they were both a couple of dumbasses. But Sam agreed, it wasn’t his place to interfere if they both insisted on being so completely obtuse with each other. And when he really thought about it, he figured it might be best to at least unhook his mind from theirs before doing anything about their mutual idiocy. If he thought having to endure a double dose of their pining was bad now, he didn’t really want to have a direct mental link with both of them when they finally figured themselves out. He shuddered at the thought of it.

“You have my word, Cas,” Sam said solemnly, which seemed to relieve Cas’s mind a little bit. “I’m just gonna step outside for a minute to give Rowena a call. The sooner we get this fixed, the better.”

Cas nodded, took a deep breath, and gave him a tiny smile. Only moments later, as Sam turned toward the door, he felt Cas psych himself up and let go of the thread of grace holding back his thoughts. Sam stumbled under the weight of them, knocking into the table next to theirs before righting himself and quickly turning back to Cas with his hands raised.

“It’s okay,” Sam reassured him. “It’s just… a lot…”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas replied, frowning.

Sam just gave him a tight nod and changed course, heading for the men’s room instead of the parking lot. The absolute tsunami of thoughts was almost more than he could bear, and he needed just a few minutes to adjust to the influx of information and get his bearings before attempting to call Rowena.

The influx of Cas’s thoughts had momentarily overridden the pep talk Dean had been giving himself in the bathroom mirror, so when Sam barreled through the door of the men’s room he was confronted with a startled stare from his brother. He ignored Dean and staggered to the closest sink, bracing himself against the cold porcelain and squeezing his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Dean asked, hesitantly holding out a hand but obviously remembering Cas’s warnings from earlier and not actually touching Sam.

Sam opened his eyes and shook his head, glancing at Dean in the mirror and gulping in a few deep breaths. “Nothing,” he said, and then laughed at himself. “Well, not nothing, exactly. But Cas couldn’t hold on to his thoughts anymore, and he warned me he was gonna have to let go of them, and it’s just more than I was expecting, I guess.”

What he wanted to say was dude has six billion years worth of memories and all he thinks about is you, but he promised he wouldn’t, so instead he just stood there, breathing slowly and letting himself adjust to the rip current of thoughts flowing through him. He saw Dean nod over his shoulder in the mirror, and bent over to splash some cold water on his face.

“Yeah, guess he’s still got the angel memories in there,” Dean said in a hollow voice. “You gonna be able to handle it?”

“I think so,” Sam said, standing up and pulling a few paper towels out of the dispenser on the wall to dry his face. “I’m gonna go outside and give Rowena a call. See if she has a counterspell, or barring that, any idea how we can track down this witch.”

“Good idea. You want me to call her, or can you handle another conversation?” Dean asked, pointing vaguely at Sam’s head.

“Yeah, I got it under control,” Sam said. “I think a bit of fresh air might help, too. I’ll be right back, okay? But you might wanna go out there and tell Cas I’m okay. Poor guy doesn’t need to feel even worse about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Dean replied.

And Sam could just see him pulling himself together now that he had a mission. He watched Dean build up a mental wall and just… shoved everything else down, exactly the way he’d always told Sam he did, but now he could see the process was horrifyingly, deliberately literal. He heard Dean plan to saunter back to their table like nothing was wrong, give Cas a hearty pat on the shoulder and a few bolstering words, the way he always had in the past. And Sam just couldn’t let him get away with that, not when he’d seen the whole, heartbreaking truth. Before Dean could walk past him to the door, Sam reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Dude, do not be that dick right now,” he said angrily, and Dean turned a confused face to him before he remembered that Sam had seen his entire thought process unfold. Before Dean could protest or get angry about it himself, Sam cut him off with a little shake. “He doesn’t need a fucking pep talk. He doesn’t need to pack his feelings away and push through to the next round of problem solving, okay? Just… just be his friend for once. Commiserate with him, or at least be honest with him, and let him be honest with you for once. And burn that bullshit swagger shtick you were about to pull on him again. He doesn’t need that shit from you. Not right now.”

Before Dean could say anything, Sam let him go and stormed out of the bathroom, through the diner, and out to the parking lot. The air outside was a hell of a lot easier to breathe, especially now that Dean was actually thoughtfully considering what Sam may have picked out of Cas’s head to make him react like that. Maybe he could teach a couple of old dogs some new tricks. He pulled out his phone and called Rowena as he walked to the Impala. She answered just as he opened the door to the car and sat down.

“Samuel, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi, Rowena,” he said, choking out a laugh as he heard Dean finally join Cas at their table. At least Dean wasn’t being a jerk about it. “I, uh, kinda got myself in a bit of trouble, and I think I need you to save me from Dean and Cas.”

He rubbed his temple and did his best to ignore the world’s most awkward tapdance of a conversation going on inside the diner. Rowena didn’t respond for a moment, but then cautiously pressed for more information.

“What have you done, Sam? Are they trying to kill you?”

He let out a near hysterical laugh, and then launched into a quick description of their hunt gone wrong. Rowena listened patiently to his increasingly rambling report, as he was distracted by Dean and Cas’s increasingly erratic thoughts. He shoved them away as best he could and finished his vague description at a near whisper.

“I don’t think I can handle them not talking to each other much longer, but I think I’m even more terrified one of them will actually say something. I do not need to be on the party line if that happens.”

Luckily for him, Rowena seemed to understand exactly what he was trying very hard not to say. “Well, I think that’s all going according to plan, then.”

“Plan? What are you talking about?” Sam asked, just as someone tapped on the window of the car.

“Hello, Samuel,” Rowena said through the glass, bending down to look him right in the face. “Close your mouth before you start catching flies, and at least roll down the window,” she added, hanging up her phone and pulling a small vial out of her pocket. “Drink this and you’ll be right as rain.”

Sam opened the door and glared at her as he got to his feet and she stepped quickly out of his way. “You did this? The other witch, the case? All of it?”

She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been living with them like this for what, a decade? Did you really think they’d ever figure it out on their own?”

Sam gaped at her. “B-but… then why did you have some guy throw a spell at me? Why not just hex them into actually talking to each other?”

Rowena shrugged. “I did consider it, but it seemed unsporting. Plus one should never meddle directly in matters of love. The couple in question typically resents it after the fact, and it blows up in the witch’s face. And I don’t think there’s anything either of them wouldn’t do for you, so I thought I’d give them a little nudge through you. I hope you’re not too upset with me,” she said, frowning while Sam worked through the implications of what she’d done until she lost patience with him. “Is it working yet?” She asked, casting a slow glance through the window at Dean and Cas sitting huddled together at the booth inside.

Sam couldn’t believe he’d become so distracted by her arrival and subsequent revelations that he’d kind of forgotten he had the Dean and Cas soundtrack running at low volume at the back of his mind. Or maybe it was because the entire tone and nature of their thoughts had shifted, drastically, in the last ten minutes. Their food had arrived, but neither of them had really even touched it yet, too caught up in the quiet words they exchanged with one another. Sam wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed for having missed the big moment after a decade of watching their weird mating dance, or relieved that he didn’t have an uninvited front row seat to it. Probably a little of both. He glanced down at Rowena, at the complete care and concern on her face, the worry that she’d done the right thing, and the hope that she had. She looked up at him expectantly and he felt a strange warmth surge in his chest. She truly cared about them. About all of them.

“Well?” she asked impatiently, waving the bottle containing the antidote to her spell. “Are they on their way to fifth base, and do you really want front row seats to that ballgame?”

“Uh… yeah…” he said, taking the bottle and carefully unscrewing the cap. “So this won’t have any lingering side effects?”

Rowena smiled softly at him. “Samuel, I would never do anything to hurt you, my boy. Don’t you get that by now? We can’t really hurt each other, can we?”

Sam blinked at her, torn between really seeing her and being carried away on the new rush of thoughts coming from inside the diner. And holy hell, the two of them weren’t wasting any time. He grimaced at the bottle, not because he was afraid of drinking Rowena’s potion, but because it was his last hope of severing that mental connection before he’d be subjected to any more of Dean and Cas’s emotional outpouring. Whatever the side effects might be, it couldn’t be as bad as the combination of acute diabetes and the oncoming aneurism listening to any more of their thoughts would surely give him.

Sam gave Rowena a grateful smile and chugged the contents of the bottle. It tasted like concentrated flowers with a slightly minty aftertaste, and it warmed his insides going down. By the time he swallowed the last drop, his mind had gone blissfully quiet. He held his breath for a moment, but when he was sure that the only thoughts in his head were entirely his own, he was so relieved he grabbed Rowena’s face and planted an ecstatic kiss on her mouth.

“I’m free! Thank you so much for that. If you hadn’t been here to stop it, I think I would’ve had to do something drastic, like stealing Dean’s car and going on the run. Anything to stop him and Cas from talking to each other for five minutes.”

“So they’re actually talking? Miracle of miracles,” Rowena said, grinning delightedly at her handiwork and still looking a bit overcome by the unexpected kiss. “But now what are you going to do? Are you going back in there to awkwardly sit at the table and interrupt their little date? You wouldn't want to undo all our handiwork now, would you?”

Sam frowned at her, and then glanced back at Dean and Cas.

“You should probably put them out of their misery, at least. Let them know you’re cured and that the witch has been properly dealt with,” she said, picking up Sam’s phone from where he’d left it on the seat of the car and handing it to him.

Sam raised an eyebrow at her as he called Dean. “But have I really dealt with the witch yet?”

Rowena gave him an inviting and flirtatious smile and shrugged as Dean answered. Sam made a split second decision.

“Dean, just letting you know Rowena had a cure, and it worked. She also knows the witch who did this. We’re gonna go take care of it. I’ll meet you and Cas back at the bunker in a few days. Just… enjoy yourselves, and congrats on finally getting your shit together.”

He hung up before Dean could do more than sputter at him, and held out an elbow for Rowena. She smiled at him and slid her hand around his arm.

“So, do you have a car, or are you staying in town?”

“What, you’re so quick to abandon your brother at a time like this? Or do you have a better suggestion on how we can pass a few quiet days on our own?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I think I might. Though I'm not sure how quiet it'll be.”

Rowena just held his arm tighter and picked up the pace. Nope, Dean was all wrong about witches. There was definitely nothing better than witches.