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The motel room was the weirdest one Castiel had ever seen. He’d been in some weird ones with the Winchesters over the years, but this one took the cake. A nautical theme, he understood, was perfectly normal. He’d also understood it to mean boats, naval uniforms, and related things – not an actual under-the-sea theme. This room was painted varying shades of blue and green, and decorated with fish, jellyfish, octopuses, and other oceanic creatures. It was completely inaccurate, but it was pretty. Sam even commented how peaceful it was.
Dean, on the other hand, had taken one look inside and said “Nope.” He was glad Sam liked it, this could be his and Cas’s room, he was going to take the one next door that was decorated like a desert. Much more his speed, much fewer tentacles. More fitting environment for a cowboy.
Castiel was torn. On the one hand, any room that made Sam feel at peace could only be a good thing. On the other… he agreed with Dean. The tentacles could be problematic. In particular, the large jellyfish with its tentacles streaming across the ceiling could cause Castiel a great deal of embarrassment if he couldn’t figure out a way to deal with it. Even with his grace diminishing, turning off the lights wouldn’t prevent him from knowing they were up there, twisting and twining around the other creatures swimming up there to end tangled with the arms of an octopus.
For once, Sam didn’t understand. “What’s wrong with tentacles? I know Dean went through a phase of watching tentacles do naughty things to schoolgirls, but I’m having trouble imagining that bothering you.”
How did he explain this to Sam? The easiest way would be to just show him enough of it that he could use his imagination from there, but there were huge risks to that. Yes, his grace was diminished, though at least entirely his own again. Diminished enough? Sam was strong, and after all they had been through together, it was possible that Sam was strong enough to take even his full power. There was a test, one that wouldn’t guarantee anything unless it caused problems itself. He manifested his wings and waited for Sam to notice.
It didn’t take long, although longer than it would have if Dean had been in the room. Diminished grace or not, Castiel would not have taken this risk with Dean; the romantic relationship with Sam that had grown while they tracked Dean as a demon was what made this a risk worth taking. When Sam looked up from getting his laptop plugged in, he was unlikely to suffer vision damage. As it was, he simply gasped. “Castiel… your wings… why am I seeing your wings? I thought you told me that could blind me!”
“When you asked, during the Apocalypse, it likely would have. Things have changed so much since then, I thought it might be safe. I was right.” Castiel watched Sam as he explored the wings with his eyes, soaking in the look of joy and awe on his beloved’s face. “Are you experiencing any discomfort? Anything, whether you think it worth mentioning or not?”
“No. No, this isn’t bothering me a bit. Well…” Castiel braced himself. Of course Sam would try to play off any discomfort, but this was important. “You probably expect this, but I really want to touch them. I don’t know if that’s what you meant, but you said anything…”
Now Castiel relaxed, letting one wing sweep forward to brush against Sam’s arm. When the only reaction was Sam’s hand coming up to brush over the feathers in a gentle caress, he relaxed even further. “Sam, this was a test. I wanted to show you something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be possible. Now I believe it is, though not without risk. May I?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Sam pulled his hand back, allowing Castiel to pull his wings in close to use as a shield during the actual transformation.
His vessel went to the pocket dimension that usually held his wings; his true form started taking form, although Castiel compressed it to be reasonable to have in the motel room. The compression wasn’t nearly as much as it should have been, but Castiel was pleased to find it necessary. His grace wasn’t diminished as badly as he’d feared. One last check to make sure he was presentable, and he carefully opened his wings to reveal his true form: a mass of writhing tentacles with eyes opening and closing from between them. From the way Sam was staring, he assumed that, at least, it wasn’t painful to do so. “Sam? Are you okay?”
“I… wow,” Sam said after a couple tries at sound failed. “I thought you might be planning to show me your true form, but that’s… not what I expected. It’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, just… never pictured angels as quite so Lovecraftian, you know?”
“I know,” Castiel whispered as quietly as he could, without his vessel’s voice to offer Sam protection from his true voice. Fortunately, Sam didn’t flinch or show any sign of discomfort. Therefore Castiel didn’t bother changing back before continuing his explanation. “You asked why the room bothered me. The jellyfish’s tentacles strongly resemble those of an angel I knew in Heaven, Phillip, long ago. Phillip died in the drowning of the Nephilim, refusing to accept the death of his children along with those whose angelic parent didn’t try to control them. He argued that angels needed Nephilim, and after recent events, I strongly agree with him.”
“Why? If Nephilim are so important, why drown them all?”
Castiel let all of his eyes close at once, a sign of distress and confusion. “Other than God, only Nephilim have the power to create new angels. I assume that when the drowning was ordered, God believed that with Lucifer caged it was unlikely that any more angels would die, and that if some were killed in tragic accidents or something, he could create replacements as needed. Now, after the Apocalypse claiming so many lives, the civil wars claiming so many more… if we had Nephilim out there, we could create new angels. In theory, anyway. If any of those among the survivors know the rituals.” Castiel parted his tentacles, letting a thicker one emerge through a gap. Sam looked between it and the octopus on the ceiling, and his mouth fell open as he realized the implications. “This limb is special. In a male vessel, it corresponds to…”
Sam held up his hands. “I think I get it. The room bothers you because there’s porn on the ceiling. And, unlike human porn…”
“Exactly. You find the room peaceful, so I’m willing to stay, but I wanted you to understand my discomfort.”
“Well, you know, the only reason we’re not having sex is because you’re not interested in the strictly human version. If that’s changed now that you can show me your true form, might make it easier for you to be in here if you’re doing something about it.”