Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel is a botanist. So inevitably, he's got some weird plants around the house. But Sam is a library archivist, a "man of letters," if you will, and he's pretty sure he's seen this before someplace...

After two days of research, Sam is sitting in the dining room, waiting for Castiel to come home from work. When he walks in and finds Sam with several of his herbs and satchels lined up on the table, Castiel knows it's over.

"Hello, Sam," he sighs.

Sam smiles grimly. "Hey, Cas. So when were you going to tell me I'm sleeping with a witch?"

Blue eyes close. Castiel knows better than to lie.

"And more importantly...as Frank L. Baum put it...are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

When he looks back in surprise, he finds Sam grinning. He smiles back. Maybe this won't go as badly as he always feared it would.

***

“Babe? What did I just find under my side of the bed?”

Castiel looked up from the basil he was clipping to see a small beige satchel offered for his inspection. “Oh. That’s thyme. It’s good for you.”

Sam headed for the coffee machine with a yawn. “Thyme, huh?”

“And a tiny bit of ginger.”

His lover pulled a mug out of the cabinet and set the machine to drip. “Why is that good for me?”

“You’d been having nightmares,” Castiel responded absently.

“I haven’t had a nightmare for weeks.”

“That’s how long it’s been under the bed. It’s placed directly beneath your pillow. Or it was, before you moved it.”

Sam was watching him. He could feel it. “Really? You cast a spell on me so I wouldn’t have bad dreams? I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

Castiel slowly realized what Sam was saying, and turned to face him again. “What? No! I wouldn’t-It’s just a bit of herb, meant to ease your sleep. I wouldn’t do more than that without you knowing. I promise.”

He nodded. “I hope not. I guess I should be grateful you protected my sleep. Does that stuff work?”

The witch sighed and put the basil down to dry. He moved to the sink to wash his hands. “It does if you know what to do with it. Just like the cacti.”

“The ones in the corners of the house?”

“Yes. They have protective qualities for those who utilize them the right way. Real spellwork is different. I wouldn’t use that on you without your permission. I never have.”

“You get why that might make me nervous. You showed me what sorts of things you can do, and it was a little scary.”

Castiel frowned up at him. “Sam! I’m a hedge witch. And a botanist. I’m not going to hurt anyone! That goes against everything I believe in. I use what I know to help and to heal. Never to harm. You know that. And I certainly would never hurt you!”

Sam was nodding in that quiet way that said he was still not convinced. “Yeah. No, I know you wouldn’t. But maybe if you think you’re helping, you can justify something I wouldn’t agree with. You know? I appreciate that you care about me. But what if we get into a situation where you think you know better than I do what’s good for me?”

He had spent the few hours before Sam awoke meditating on a new spell, and the strain of it was wearing on him. The concentration necessary to create spellwork from one’s own creativity and intimate connection to nature was extremely taxing. For most witches, just the energy needed to cast someone else’s spells was difficult enough. True craft was laborious, and it was quite a powerful individual, with genius level intelligence, who could take on such arduous work. Castiel was a rare creature indeed.

Right now, he was mentally and physically spent.

So when he snapped at Sam, it came from a place of frustration and exhaustion, not spite. “If you think we haven’t been in that very situation many times before now, you’re wrong. So you’ll just have to take my word for it that I’ve restrained myself admirably along the way!”

Sam stared at him with a growing frown. A spark of anger lit his eyes, and the sleepiness was gone in an instant.

Castiel sighed with a cringe. “I’m sorry. Sam, I’m sorry. I have a migraine. Please don’t-“

“So you’re saying I should trust you that your judgment is better than mine, but that you’re generous enough to not exert your will over me. Is that about it?”

He shook his head. “It sounds terrible when you-Sam, I only mean to say that there have been times when I wished that...that you would take better care of yourself, and I felt tempted to-“

“To make me see things your way? To make me do something or not do something?”

“To care for you myself!” he cried in exasperation.

Sam’s nostrils flared, and his eyes were glowering now. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m a grown man.”

“Of course, my love. Which is why I wouldn’t ever use what I know against your wishes.” He tried to soften his voice, and he took a step toward him to touch his hand. “Sam, please. Any couple will have differences of opinion now and then. This is no different.”

“It is different! Because, while I could try to persuade you to take my argument, you could literally compel me to take yours!”

“And I wouldn’t!” he shouted finally. “You know me better than that! Sam, do you remember the first thing you asked me when you found out? You asked if I was good. You wouldn’t be here if I weren’t good. Everyone makes mistakes over time, but I have always tried to be good.”

There was quiet between them for a moment, and the smell of coffee permeated the air in the kitchen. At last, Sam sighed and turned to prepare his cup, releasing Castiel’s gaze.

“Sam?”

The man gave him a glance of warning, and continued his task in silence.

Castiel’s head was pounding. The work he had done that morning had been worth his effort, he was certain, but the birth of new magic always took its toll on its parent. It would take days to recover fully, and the spell wasn’t even complete yet. He didn’t blame Sam for needing reassurance now and then; of course he didn’t. But he couldn’t help wishing this morning was not one of those times.

His lover’s quiet voice reached him with caution. “Cas, I know you’re good. But a lot of bad things can happen when someone with a lot of power thinks he knows better than others what’s best for them. You need to know how I feel about it. It would break us in ways that couldn’t be repaired if you ever violated my trust by forcing something on me that I haven’t agreed to. I don’t know what you can do. And I don’t know what you’re capable of. I know you mean well, and I know you love me. But I don’t think that’s the same thing as being able to trust you to never hurt me without meaning to. So even if it’s something little, something completely benign, I want you to tell me before you do it.”

Castiel swallowed hard. It hurt his pride to agree to that aloud. He wanted to continue to argue that he wouldn’t hurt him, that he wouldn’t break their trust, not for anything. But maybe Sam had a point. Maybe being as powerful as he was, maybe being as in love with this man as he was, maybe his judgment could become clouded without Sam’s clarity. In any case, it was how Sam felt, so Castiel needed to honor it, even if he didn’t agree. “I promise, my love. I won’t do anything, not so much as make a bag, without addressing it with you first.”

Relief smoothed Sam’s forehead, and he took Castiel’s hand in his. “That’s all I want. And...seriously, thank you for helping me sleep easier. I do appreciate what you do for me. Just...let me know that you’re doing it?”

“Yes, Sam,” he promised soberly. “In exchange, please recognize that I have enough self-control to not use my abilities without careful thought.”

Sam smiled and kissed him. “You’re right. I know you do. So? A migraine. Did you take anything for it?”

He grimaced. “Just some bay leaf tea. I used the butterbur extract I made a while back. It helped a little. But it’s not a usual migraine. I’m drained.”

His lover went back to frowning. “Why? What have you been working on?”

He gave him a tired smile. “Crafting something new.”

“What is it?”

“That remains to be seen. In any case, it is far from finished. I’ve been up for hours, and I’ve only just begun the crafting of it.”

“Cas, if it wears you out like this, why do it? What is it that you’re crafting?”

The fog was pushing him down, and he moved to sit on the bench by the window, where he could look out at his climbing roses and past them to the garden rows. “Just something for my friends out there,” he murmured. “Just something to infuse them with a bit of this and that, to attract just the right pollinators, and to reward them with better nutrition. They’ll be more fragrant for a few weeks’ time too, but I don’t think it will be very noticeable, except to the bees and other pollinators.”

Sam sat beside him. “Don’t you worry about throwing off the ecosystem with stuff like that?”

He laughed wearily. “You worry too much, sweetheart. The ecosystem is exactly what I’m trying to save. A tiny boost to make the bees in the area a bit more hardy will not bring on the apocalypse. I promise. And if I’m wrong, I’ll be sure to say you told me so before you have to say it yourself.”

Sam gave him a sheepish smile, and tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing pink cheekbones. It was gorgeous. “Yeah. I know. I just like to prepare for the worst while you’re hoping for the best.”

Castiel continued watching his garden happily, even as the pain continued to throb in his head. “I don’t hope for the best. I make it.”

His lover put his arm around him, and held him while they both looked out over the acre of experiments both witchy and scientific. “You do make things better, you know. For me.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. To help and heal. And you’re the best reason I have to keep trying to do it.”

Chapter Text

Sam loved Sundays. There was a bit of urgency about them, of course, a nagging feeling that the work week and the rest of the world was lurking just around the corner for them. But when he could ignore that, Sundays were the best days. Sometimes Castiel went to church in the morning, to an eclectic little Unitarian Universalist community where a gay man, a scientist, and a witch, and even a gay male witch scientist, could sit beside one another to study the wise teachings of all the world’s traditions and glean what peace and guidance they could find from it all. Sam had been with him a few times, and had enjoyed it, especially the feeling of belonging and welcome, but he was content just sleeping in or reading on his own most Sunday mornings.

These were his daydream days. His older brother had always teased him growing up, that he spent most of his time either reading or staring into space at things no one else could see. He couldn’t help it. The inside of his own head had always been a more interesting place than reality.

He smirked to himself as he thought of it.

Reality was certainly more interesting than it used to be, that was for sure. He remembered his first conversations with Castiel about magic, and settled on his fondest memory.

Castiel rarely blushed. He didn’t fluster easily. But he had been a mess just then, pink all over and at a loss for coherent sentences. “I’ve been...tempted...in the past. Of course I have. Anyone would be, and I’m no angel.”

“You’re a witch.”

“Exact-Look, I was in college before I-So I was already resigned to being an awkward loner. And-and that was okay, because-because it was. Because I always had been. And then I met you, and you’re so...I mean, look at you!”

Sam couldn’t help snickering. He was not entirely unaware that he was somewhat good looking. But once anyone got through that first layer, they found quickly that Castiel wasn’t the only awkward loner out there. Sam’s own love life had been one disaster after another, so he found it unceasingly amusing that Castiel always seemed so in awe of him. After all, Castiel had been the only one who had ever seen the layers underneath and not been completely at a loss as to what to do with him.

The witch was shifting his weight on the couch uncomfortably. “Don’t laugh at me,” he whined, which only made Sam giggle. Castiel smiled too finally, with a bit of melancholy. “Look. You were this beautiful thing so far out of my reach. And I was so lonely all of the sudden. I had never felt it much before but suddenly there you were, everything I wanted and couldn’t have, and it just burned me down.”

“I liked you right away, Cas.” Then he blinked. “But...that’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it? Did you...do something to make me…”

Frustration eased out of those blue eyes in a tear, and Castiel smeared it away quickly. “No! That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve never been so tempted in all these years as I was then. I kept thinking, if ever I was going to do it, cast something to make someone feel something for me, it may as well be with the man I wanted like nobody else, who I had the least possible chance with.”

Sam nodded. “But you didn’t?”

He shook his head miserably. “I went so far as to find the spell, and plan how I would use it. But I was never really going to. It was just childish. A fantasy.”

“So...there was no magic between us.”

A tiny, guilty smile came over his lover, and he shrugged. “Not...exactly.”

“Cas?”

“Look, I just think of it as leveling the playing field a bit. You’re intimidating!”

Sam stared at him. “What?” he shrieked.

“You are! You’re gorgeous and enormous and so smart, and...So I gave myself a bit of confidence.”

He waited.

The man was turning red by this time, and he couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “It’s sort of like throwing back a shot or two before asking someone to dance. Except my head was clearer. I didn’t cast anything on you, or to change how you saw me. I just...needed a bit of nerve so I didn’t run away instead. I didn’t make you want me. I made me believe you could.”

Sam burst into peals of laughter until he was having trouble taking in a full breath. God, he adored this man!

“Here’s where you aren’t supposed to laugh at me,” Castiel sighed wryly.

“So clearly that wore off pretty quickly,” Sam sniggered.

His lover scowled. “There’s no magic in the world powerful enough to make me permanently believe I’m in the same league as Sam Winchester. It wore off within a few hours. But by then I had somehow managed to make you think I was worth getting to know better.”

He moved across the couch and took his lover into his arms. “Cas, you were absolutely worth getting to know better. I’m grateful that I had the chance to know you better. It’s been the best adventure of my life, and that was before I even knew about all the witchy stuff.”

Castiel sighed happily into his shoulder. “I love you, Sam,” he whispered.

Sam’s heart soared. “Yeah?”

He was pushed back to arm’s length. Blue eyes stared at him. “Yes. And considering how insecure I still am about you, you might say it back.” He began to lose the color in his face. “Unless...unless you don’t feel the same-“

“I’m in love with you, Castiel,” he murmured into the other man’s lips as he pursued a kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Sam.”

They had been together for many months by then, but it was the first time they allowed themselves to say it. Sam found out what had held Castiel back till then, a few days later.

He had come home from work and unbuttoned his collar above his sweater vest as he looked around for his lover. “Cas? You here? Your car is outside. Where are you?”

He had practically tripped over the man, who was seated cross-legged on the floor inside the dark bedroom.

Sam swore aloud, and flipped on the lights. “Cas! Are you-“

“Ow.”

“Cas?”

The man groaned. “Can you turn the lights out?”

“Oh. Sorry! I didn’t know you were there.” He slapped at the light switch again, then stood still as he waited awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “Cas?”

“Can I have just another minute?”

“Um. Sure.” He stepped back out of the room, and stood in the hall instead.

At last, Castiel had stood and joined him. “Hello, Sam.”

“What, uh...What was that all about?”

His lover reached up to kiss him gently. “I’d been meditating for about three hours before you arrived. In the dark. You startled me when you turned on the light.”

“It’s my bedroom, Cas. I didn’t expect to find you on the floor. You’re lucky I didn’t fall and smush you.”

The man smiled finally. “If I’m going to be smushed, there’s no one I would rather be smushed by.”

“Meditating, huh?”

“It’s how I craft spells.”

“I thought you said you read spells and make the recipes or something.”

Castiel was looking up at him with adoration. “That’s how a witch casts spells,” he corrected. “But creating them requires extraordinary focus. When I realized you were working late tonight, I made the most of my time alone, and continued crafting a spell I began a while ago.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. But is that dangerous at all?”

“Not unless a six foot four man smushes me during a critical moment.”

His eyes widened, but he sighed when he realized Castiel was smirking at him.

“Just kidding. No, of course it isn’t dangerous. Taxing, but not dangerous.”

“So it wears you out to do it?” He could see the strain in Castiel’s eyes now. “How can I help?”

A smile of pure pleasure lit Castiel’s face. “I love you, Sam. I love you so much.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I love you too?”

Castiel lifted his hand to put his long fingers through Sam’s mane. “I worried for so long that I was falling too hard for you. I stayed up nights worrying about it. How could I love you if you didn’t even know this part of me? I told myself that if I could never tell you about my magic, I could never tell you I loved you. I wanted so deeply to tell you everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would you have believed me? Wouldn’t you have just assumed I was a little crazy? Cut your losses and thrown me out of your life? I couldn’t tell you who I really am, and so it seemed wrong to tell you that I loved you, as if we could possibly have a future together. I’m so glad you’re curious. That you’re a researcher at heart. And I’m so, so glad that you kept an open mind about it all, long enough for me to show you and explain. So I could finally admit that I’m in love with you, and the way you care for me. If I had known how amazing it would feel to have a man like you offer to help me recover from the toll crafting takes on me, I’d have known to want it, to dream about it.”

Sam shook his head. Sometimes he didn’t quite understand Castiel’s poetry. “You didn’t answer me. How can I help you feel better?”

The smile never waned. “Something to eat and someone to sit with. That’s all I need. Just my quiet, sweet Sam.”

He smiled back contentedly. “And dinner.”

“We have some leftover soup, I think.”

“Yes. I’ll get us some.”

“I do love you, Sam. With all my heart.”

He thought back on days like that, before they had even moved in together, and he couldn’t help falling in love with Castiel all over again. This Sunday, Castiel was humming in their kitchen, preparing some sort of snack for them, while Sam alternated between reading his book and daydreaming to his heart’s content.

The soft touch at his shoulder made him sigh. He reached back to grip the hand there in his own. “Cas?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Are you feeling any better? After your crafting? Has your headache gone away?”

He was rewarded with that tone of devotion in his lover’s voice. “Thank you for asking. I’m all right. Just tired. It’s nice that you check on me.”

“I love you. If I can help you recover, let me know.”

The man appeared at last, kneeling in front of Sam’s chair and looking up at him with complete awe. “Just be here with me. It’s all I need. Thank you for being here with me.”

It pleased Sam to hear the happiness in that deep voice. “What have you made?” he wondered.

The plate was lifted for him to see. “Honey, banana and cashew yogurt with granola. I think you’ll like it.”

“How long did this take?”

“Six hours for the yogurt to thicken. But I did most of the prep this morning before my work, and let it sit all day. Then about ten minutes just now. Try it?”

Castiel was the only person who could coax a cashew plant to grow in rural Kansas, and he harvested his own nuts from the fruit, to use in special treats like this. Sam knew how much effort it took to do so, even if Castiel pretended it was no big deal. As for the potted banana tree, it was in a perpetual state of battle with Castiel, in spite of everything the witch knew about plants. It was simply stubborn, Castiel complained under his breath without explanation every now and then.

So Sam knew he should accept this dish with the right amount of gratitude for the work which had gone into making it, in spite of Castiel’s words. “Thank you, Cas. This looks amazing. I’m never going to get used to the things you can do and make, or that you use your abilities on me.”

Quiet pleasure beamed from his lover. He watched with anxious anticipation while Sam took his first bite.

He grinned. “Wow! Cas, that’s incredible!”

The witch sighed with relief. “I’m glad you like it. I thought you would. And it’s loaded with probiotics and prebiotics. Full disclaimer, so I don’t get accused of taking care of you without your knowledge and consent,” he teased.

“I appreciate that,” he answered dryly. “Are you having any?”

“Yes. I wanted to be sure you liked it. Mine is waiting for me in the kitchen. Go back to reading, my love. I didn’t want to interrupt your Sunday routine, just feed you a bit.”

“You’re not interrupting anything but me thinking of you,” he confessed. He set his book aside, and took another bite thoughtfully. “Bring your food in.”

Castiel hopped up and soon returned with ice water for each of them and his own dish of yogurt and granola. He sat on the floor, and gazed up at Sam. “What were you thinking of?” he asked.

“How much I love you,” Sam sighed. “How happy I am with you. How glad I am that we met.”

The small smile on Castiel’s face meant the world to him. “Oh,” he said.

Sam was about to tell him what memories he had been indulging in, when the door to the house blew open suddenly. He shot out of his chair. “Dean?” he cried in shock.

His older brother was stumbling into the house, face pale gray and eyes clouded over. There was blood all over him. “Sammy,” he wheezed, and then he dropped, completely unconscious, onto the floor.

Chapter Text

“I’m calling for an ambulance.”

Castiel continued to frown. “Wait, Sam. Just another moment. Please.”

“Cas, he’s lost a lot of blood! He’s completely ripped up! What could’ve-an animal, you think? Could a bobcat do that?”

He had to block out his lover’s panic and focus on his task at hand. This man, whoever he was, wouldn’t survive long enough for Sam to get him to a hospital. His only chance was Castiel’s healing. He could feel the life draining out of the man. Finally, he turned to Sam. “I’m going to cast. If I don’t, he will die. I can feel it.”

Sam was gray all over. He looked from the man on the floor to his lover and back again.

“Sam? I want your permission to heal this man. I’m running out of time. You let me check him out, but now I must act or he will be gone. I can’t...Sam, you have to let me help him.”

His lover was trembling as he nodded. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. Do whatever you can. Save him.”

He sighed with relief. He tugged away the leather jacket and tore open the threadbare flannel shirt to rest his hands on the man’s chest. The pulse was faint, and the scent of death was filling Castiel’s extra senses. He poured his power through his fingertips into the man below, digging his blunt nails into the skin savagely. He had to get as close to the heart as he could-There. “There it is. Prendi da me ciò di cui hai bisogno per prosperare.”

“What are you doing? Cas?”

“Io do della mia vita per darti la vita. Prendi ciò di cui hai bisogno con la mia benedizione.”

“Castiel!” Sam screamed behind him.

But the witch’s own cry drowned out that of his lover’s, as his life force was suddenly yanked from him by this broken man’s soul. It was so forceful that he had to fight to remain conscious. He had never felt anything like this soul’s will to survive. “Sam, stay back!” he growled through his teeth. “He will take what he needs from me. I won’t allow him to take from you.”

“Whatever he needs!” Sam shouted back. “What can I give him? My blood? What?”

Blood. Castiel watched in morbid fascination as the wounds on the man’s skin sewed themselves together, glowing faintly, and he could practically hear the strong heart pounding again beneath his hands. At last, he put up a force, a wall, to prevent the man from stealing any more of his life than he already had. Castiel had given the unfortunate soul everything it needed. Now he needed to mend himself.

“Sammy,” the man croaked.

Sam leapt past Castiel to grab for the man’s face, to search him all over. “Dean? Are you all right? Can you move?”

Castiel sat back against the wall, gasping for his stolen breath.

“Sam? What happened?”

“You tell me! You fly into my house bleeding everywhere and pass out-What happened to you?”

The man’s green eyes were sharp now, and he sat up to look around them with suspicion. “No. I was dead. I was two seconds from the Reaper, man. How am I not dead?”

Sam took a deep breath. Some color was returning to his face. He gestured to Castiel, who still sat on the floor, winded and exhausted. “He saved you. Dean, this is Cas. Cas...this is my brother. This is Dean.”

The witch tried to smile. “You’re very strong, Dean,” he heaved.

The green eyes blinked at him. “What the hell did you do to me? Who are you?”

Sam helped him to stand, and took another long breath. “He’s my boyfriend, Dean. And he saved you. Now what happened?”

Dean continued to watch Castiel, who put his elbows on his knees and focused most of his energy on catching the breath that was evading him. But he nodded. “Sam, I need to talk to you. Alone.”

“No! Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Cas!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Sam, I found the thing from Dad’s nightmares. It nearly killed me. And I need your help.”

Castiel watched Sam’s mouth drop. “Cas? Could you...excuse us for a minute?”

He frowned. “Sam, who is this man? You said your brother was estranged, that you had no contact-“

“He is. I don’t.” Then Sam’s gaze flitted to his lover, still on the floor. “Cas? Are you all right? What did healing him do to you?”

“Healing me? What, like an EMT?”

Castiel shook his head. “I used my own life to save his. I didn’t know how strong he would be.”

Sam’s eyes widened in fear. “Cas, what’s that going to do to you? What does that even mean?”

“Sammy-“

“No, you shut up! You come tearing back in here, into my life, after years away, and you’re already talking about chasing Dad’s delusions-Just shut up! Cas, tell me you’re all right!”

Castiel nodded. His breath was beginning to return to him slowly. “Yes. Just...got the wind knocked out of me. I’ll recover. I gave him of my own life freely, so it should return to me by and by, as he heals and has less need of it. Had it been forced from me, there would be no recovery, and it would wilt in him as I died myself. Since it was gifted...we will both be all right. He’s very strong. I can already feel my own health returning bit by bit.”

“Sam, what the hell is he talking about? Is he high? First I find out you’re gay and now I find out you’re sleeping with a pothead?”

Sam whirled on him angrily. “Don’t you dare. You’ve been gone for years! Don’t you dare try to step back into my life after all this time and criticize-“

“Whoa, whoa! Easy, tiger! Give me a chance to-“

“To what? To tell me again how you found the thing from Dad’s nightmares? Dean, those delusions are why I had to leave! He put us through hell, training us-Dean, we were raised like warriors! Until I was old enough to see how crazy the whole thing was! When I finally understood that the man was completely schizophrenic, and that our entire childhood was built on his hallucinations! On his paranoia! When he died, that crap should have died with him, except that you never wanted to believe he was just sick!”

Dean’s face was reddening, his eyes flashing with fury. “He was sick!” he barked back. “But some of those things were real! They are real, Sam! I know because one just mauled me!”

“Dean, you were attacked by some animal! Where were you? You still living at campsites and sleeping in your car?”

Castiel caught his breath long enough to interject. “Sam, that was no animal. Not a natural one anyway. There was something evil in his wounds. Something that didn’t want me to heal it. It fought me, but he fought it, and took from me what he needed. It was like a venom. But it wasn’t natural. It was evil.”

Sam stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“Whatever hurt your brother isn’t a natural animal, nor a human. That’s all I know, except that it was dark and powerful. Between my talents and his strength, we overcame it, but it was horrible, Sam.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about all this? What talents?”

Sam heaved a shuddered sigh. “Dean, Cas isn’t a pothead. Or an EMT. He’s...he’s a witch. He used his magic to save you.”

Dean went very still. “Bullshit,” he snapped.

Sam threw his hands in the air with exasperation.

Castiel smiled shakily. “It’s good to meet you, Dean. It sounds like we all have a lot of catching up to do. Assuming the unnatural nightmare beast didn’t follow you here, would you care to shower off some of your blood while I make you something to eat, so we can do this properly?”

Chapter Text

The perpetual kid brother in him couldn’t help smirking a little. “Looks like the shirt is a little long on you,” he teased.

Dean glared at him. “Only because you have a stupidly long torso. The jeans fit fine, asshat. We have the same inseam. All your extra inches are in your stomach and neck.”

“Not all of them,” he muttered smugly.

This earned him a roll of the eyes, and a small smile. “I don’t want to hear about those.”

Sam laughed and gestured for Dean to sit. He sighed wearily. “Dean, what actually happened?”

The older man dropped onto the couch. “I found it, Sammy. All these years, all that research, all those leads, all those hunts. I finally found the thing that killed Mom and messed up Dad.”

A tangle of fear began choking off his throat. “But...but that’s just…”

“Dad’s delusion? No. Dad’s head wasn’t right, Sam, but that’s because he was trying to make sense of what he had seen. You know there are things out there.”

He swallowed hard. “People. Bad people are out there. Everything had an explanation. Really screwed up people.”

Dean watched him. “That’s what you tell yourself, but you know better. Just like Dad, people don’t completely change from one day to the next. Something happens to them. People describe blacking out and then waking up to realize they’ve done things they never would’ve done, couldn’t have done, even if they wanted to.”

“Yeah. Temporary insanity brought on by overwhelming emotions and maybe underlying mental health issues-“

“Demon possession.”

He let his eyes widen. “What?”

His brother sighed and shook his head. “You heard me. Turns out the Catholics weren’t wrong about that crap. When a human is particularly stressed out, and their adrenaline is pumping, it’s like a...a…”

“A pollinator being attracted to a bloom.”

Sam looked up to find Castiel setting three bowls onto the coffee table for them. He stared. “What?” he said again.

Dean’s eyes were narrowing at Castiel in suspicion. “Yeah, I guess. Like that. A demon can possess a guy that just walked in to find his wife with another man, and it turns into a bloodbath. Or somebody gets pissed off at their neighbor or gets road rage, and the demon takes the wheel, and it ends really, really bad.”

“His high emotion and stress not only attracts the demon, but gives it access.”

Sam shook his head. “You saying you believe in this crap?” he demanded.

Castiel looked away from Dean finally, and let his gaze fall hard on his lover. “Sam? I’m a witch. You live with a witch. Why can’t you believe in demons?”

Dean snickered. “Sammy-“

“It’s Sam,” he snapped.

His brother ignored that. “I need you to trust me on this, okay? Because the demon that killed Mom is out there, and it’s a monster. I can’t do this on my own.”

“The thing that killed Mom was Dad, Dean!” he shouted at last.

Dean’s eyes flashed in anger. “Because he was possessed by this yellow-eyed demon. I saw it, Sam. His eyes flashed bright yellow before I grabbed you and ran, fast as I could. It wasn’t Dad, Sammy. You don’t believe him, but you gotta believe me.”

Castiel looked from one brother to the other. “Your father murdered your mother,” he murmured softly.

“No,” Dean barked. “A demon did while he was wearing my dad like a suit. And then Dad took the two of us and ran, and we were fugitives our whole lives. Genius here managed a four-point-oh doing all his work from libraries, moving from one school to another, living under different names. I don’t know how many times the poor kid had to hack into a school’s files and change his transcript to match our new last name so it would transfer. I always told him if he was going to do that, he may as well just give himself the grades he wanted, instead of work so hard at every school-“

Painful memories flooded Sam’s mind and heart. “And the whole time, we should have been in one school, living in foster care, because Dad was crazy!”

Dean closed his eyes. “Sammy? Stop saying that. Don’t talk about him that way. He was a victim who taught us to be survivors. So we would be strong enough to handle what was coming, what we had to do. And it’s here. Okay? It’s here again, I’ve found it, and I need your help.”

“Dean-“

Castiel cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could eat, and continue on full stomachs with clear heads.”

Dean seemed to suddenly realize he was famished. He grabbed at the bowl on the small table before him and then his urgency froze. “The hell is this?”

Sam groaned and took his own bowl. “Food. Real food.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at that. “It’s udon, bell peppers, fresh basil, a sweet and spicy sauce, ginger, onion and-“

“What is that?”

The witch stared as Dean lifted his fork warily. “That’s...basil.” He looked at Sam for guidance.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Cas, Dean only eats processed foods. He’s probably never seen a vegetable, let alone an herb.”

Dean was still poking at his meal with disgust and fascination. “I eat real food. Not rabbit food. I’m a warrior.”

Castiel looked caught between amusement and annoyance. “I can prepare something else-“

“No, Cas,” Sam said firmly. “You aren’t a short order cook. You were gracious enough to cook for him, after saving his freaking life, and he can try it or be hungry. He’s not a child. He doesn’t need to act like one.”

Dean was sniffing at his forkful.

Castiel watched. “I did add some lean beef to yours,” he said. “Sam eats it sometimes, so we had some around. You didn’t strike me as a vegetarian.”

The man blinked. Then he made a face. “Definitely not.” But he lifted the fork to his mouth at last, and chewed thoughtfully. He shrugged, and began plowing through in earnest. “Ain’t bad. It’s like a stir fry, but with vegetables.”

Castiel turned very slowly to his lover. “You two were raised by the same person?”

It was difficult not to laugh. “Yeah. Don’t you see the resemblance?”

“Not yet,” he muttered. “But I’ll keep watching for it.”

Sam chuckled, and settled in to eat his own food. He had finished his snack belatedly, while Dean was showering off his near-death experience. He wasn’t truly hungry himself, but Castiel was always able to tempt him, and something about Dean being back brought on an appetite by proxy.

“So I’ve got all my notes in the car. I’ll go over them with you, see if we can guess this son of a bitch’s next move.”

He put his fork down with a sigh. “You still didn’t tell me his last move.”

Dean choked down his bite. “I told you. I found him. Possessing some dentist or something. And he nearly killed me. I got away, got into my car and drove, but I don’t remember much of it. Lucky I got here at all.”

“Dean? I never told you where I live.” It was said quietly, and a little ball of regret sank in his stomach.

His brother waved that away with his fork. “I always know where you are. It’s my job. Look out for my pain in the ass kid brother. Since when are you living with a dude, by the way?”

He dropped his face into his palm. “He has a name.”

“Yeah. Cas something. I heard. When did he show up?”

“I can hear you both. I’m right here.”

Sam sighed. “He’s asking since when am I gay, Cas. Since forever. I just never said anything.”

His brother’s green eyes seemed a tiny bit hurt at that, which surprised him. “Why not? I’m not an asshole.”

“First? Yeah. You are. And second, when would I have ever told you? It didn’t matter in high school, because I was never in one school long enough to even make friends! And after that, I lost your number and told you and Dad to lose mine! I only ever saw you again for the funeral weekend. That didn’t seem like the time!”

Castiel was watching with interest.

“Anyway, it was none of your business.”

“And dude’s a witch.”

“Again. Right here.”

Sam set his bowl down and stood. “You know what? I need a minute. Just...eat and try not to embarrass me.” He stormed out of the room and onto the porch outside to stare darkly at the old Impala which had been his home for most of his life.

Too late, he realized the window was open, and he could hear their voices.

“So,” Castiel’s deep timbre murmured. “Was that last remark directed at me or you?”

Dean burst into surprised laughter. “Me, I’m sure. I’m the embarrassment.”

“Don’t give yourself all the credit. I’ve got my moments.”

They shared a laugh now, and Sam closed his eyes. A hundred emotions were tangling inside him as he listened to an older brother he had idolized growing up laughing with the man he had grown to love with all his heart.

“Did you really fight a demon?”

Sam flinched.

“Yeah. I really did. It kicked my ass. Thanks for the heal, buddy. You’ll have to teach me that trick one day.”

“It would require a great deal of study. It’s a difficult spell to cast, especially without preparation. Doing it blind was...challenging. I wouldn’t like to have to do it again. And I’m not at my full strength at the moment anyway. I’m just glad it worked.”

Dean’s voice was softer now. “Me too. Because what I didn’t tell Sammy yet is that I think this yellow-eyed bastard is coming for him next, and I got to be ready for him. Gotta protect him.”

A stinging chill went through Sam, and he straightened to his full height.

“Coming for Sam? Why? What does it want with Sam?” Castiel demanded in a growl. It was a tone Sam had never heard from him before, and for just a moment, it frightened him as much as the threat of the demon which had haunted his childhood.

“I don’t know yet. But the bastard was taunting me, saying I was too weak to stop him from taking my brother, that before I died, he wanted me to know I was failing my brother. I got to the sprinkler system at that point, managed to set it off, but-“

“Sprinklers?”

Dean huffed. “Yeah. Rosary and blessing in the water tank. Pisses off a demon real bad. He wasn’t laughing after that shower. But I was bleeding out, and it was all I could do to get to my car. Even if I could have found a way to kill the bitch, I wasn’t in any shape for it. But I’m here now, and I’ll be ready for him.”

“Yes. As will I. I’m glad you made it to warn him.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” Dean’s voice was deepening. “Witch. I’ve run into a few. Can’t say I ever met one that would give up their own lifeforce for a stranger. Or even kin.”

Sam turned then, and looked into the window, but he couldn’t see Castiel’s face.

“You haven’t met the right kind,” Castiel was saying. “Dark magic goes against everything I believe. Help and heal, never to harm or hinder. It’s the path I’ve chosen, and it will always lead me the right way. You were a stranger, but I could help you, so I did. That’s how it should be.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well, it’s the only reason I didn’t shove a knife into your chest the minute I found out you’re witchy. I hate witches. Always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere, playing with chicken bones…”

Sam’s eyes widened. What sort of adventures had his brother been on since the last time they had met?

But Castiel laughed. “Dean, I’m a vegetarian. I don’t have any use for chicken bones. Again, you’ve encountered the wrong kind of witch. There are some, like me, who just practice to help here and there. I’m what’s called a hedge witch. I mostly work with herbs and such.”

“So...you’re a hippie witch.”

“A-a hedge...Yes, if it makes you feel better. I’m a hippie witch.”

Sam smiled at last, and started toward the door to rejoin them inside, when he heard that terrible tone in Castiel’s voice again.

“But make no mistake. I’m more powerful than most, and if something is coming for Sam, I will use every ounce of that power to protect him.”

“You willing to kill for him?”

Sam held his breath.

“I don’t use dark magic, Dean. But I know how. And if it came to keeping your brother safe, there’s nothing I have that I won’t use.”

His blood ran cold in his veins, and Sam felt himself beginning to tremble.

Chapter Text

Tabhair neart dom, a Mháthair.

They were the first words of power he had learned.

Give me strength, Mother.

He had learned countless words of power over the years, had even created his own once, in an excruciating, forty-two hour crafting marathon that had nearly killed him. But he always returned to that first phrase in times of darkness, seeking strength from the universe which had borne them all.

This was a dark time.

Sam and his brother had talked into the night, argued, growled and nearly came to blows at one point. Castiel had said very little, except once when it seemed they might endanger his peace lily with their angry gesturing. The brothers both startled at his quiet but firm voice, as though they had forgotten he was with them in the house. He wasn’t surprised by that.

Finally, he had convinced Sam that he needed to sleep, and persuaded Dean that in order to best protect Sam, he must be at his best, which also required sleep.

Now he was digging the never-used guest bedroom out from under his spider and snake plants, moving experiments to the kitchen, and generally making enough space for another very large Winchester. He worked while the others talked. When he felt there was a reasonably minute chance of Dean strangling in English ivy while he slept, he returned to them.

The mood had changed. Sam was weeping, and Dean was holding him and whispering to him in a husky, reassuring voice. Castiel frowned at them as he watched. He knew Sam was emotional and weary, but it was unusual for him to let anyone near enough to hug him. That, and the fact that the brothers had spent the evening at one another’s throats, made it especially strange to see them leaning on one another’s shoulders instead.

He cleared his throat. “Sam, the guest room is ready for Dean.”

The two moved apart slowly, and Dean looked into his little brother’s eyes while patting him gently on the cheek. “I told you,” he murmured. “We got this. Okay? What happened to Mom, that’s not happening to you. And what happened to Dad...I won’t let that happen to anybody again. This ends here, when he comes for you. Get some sleep.”

Sam nodded, and sniffed. “Yeah. You too. And, Dean? Thank you for being here. I’m sorry I didn’t believe...Wish I could tell Dad I’m sorry…”

The older man snorted. “Plenty of times he should’ve said it to you, and didn’t. And you and me? No matter what happens, we’re good. Okay? We’re always good.”

“Yeah. Okay. I just…”

Dean sighed. “Sammy? You’re still worrying about me and Cas. Stop.”

“If anything happened to him…”

“He’s in the fight, just like we are. If you think this bastard won’t come after him, just because he’s somebody you care about, you’re wrong. Hell, I’m not entirely sure he ain’t coming for you just because you’re somebody I care about. Except I don’t think I’m as important to him as you. He’s playing with me, but he’s serious about you. So whatever we gotta do, and whoever we gotta deputize, we do it.”

Sam was nodding. “Yeah.” He gazed across the room to where Castiel stood in the dark hall alone. “Yeah. Well, he’s gotta go through you two to get to me, but he’s gotta go through me to get to you two. So bring it.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “As I understand immortal demonic entities, they’re rarely in any hurry to do anything. Even if he is coming for Sam, especially if he’s conceited about his capability for overpowering him, he won’t need to be urgent about it. You should both be able to sleep.”

“You too?” Sam wondered softly.

He smiled in a grim way. “Soon. I’m going to ward the house properly. So that our sleep is protected as well as it can be. It may take me a while. Please go on without me.”

Dean watched him. “Salt,” he barked. “A salt line across all windows and doors keeps a demon from entering.”

“I’ll do that too, then.”

His new friend sighed again. “I got some holy water. And anything iron will hurt it enough to buy some time. I gave Sam my other knife.”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ll make do. Go sleep. Nothing evil will get past my warding.”

Sam touched his hand briefly on the way past him to the bedroom. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Of course.”

Dean watched the bedroom door close behind him and then looked at Castiel. “What are you really going to do?”

The man was smarter than he had seemed at first glance. Castiel smiled. “I’m warding against evil. And then I’m contacting a few friends to watch over us too. But Sam doesn’t need to worry about that.”

“The more people in the loop, the more likely somebody gets hurt.”

Castiel gave him a smirk. “These friends aren’t people, Dean. And they won’t speak with me if you’re near. Please go to sleep, and trust me.”

Green eyes narrowed at him, but then the man retreated to the guest room without another word.

The witch took the time necessary to ward the house against evil intent, and he poured salt across every egress. He whispered to the cacti at the corners of the home to be particularly vigilant. Then he stepped outside the salt line to speak with the land.

“Tabhair dom lucht féachana le do thoil.”

There was no physical change, but at once, he was certain they were listening.

“Help me, if you can,” he breathed out into the night air. “The other soul who lives with mine, someone is trying to bring him harm.”

The roses and ivies, the trees and stalks, and all the rest shifted as if in a breeze, though the air was still. They were questioning him.

He nodded. “Yes, the third soul too. He is a friend, a brother to my lover. I know he seems angry. But I’ve taken a measure of him, and he’s good. He grew from the same cutting as did my Sam, and though parts of him may be sharp, he grows in goodness as does Sam. You’ve accepted Sam. Accept this one he loves too, if you deem him good, as I do. But most importantly, help me to protect Sam.”

The roses were dominant as always. They responded to his requests in the curl of their leaves, in the glistening of their thorns, and in this way, they spoke for the rest.

Castiel bowed his head in respect. “Thank you, my dear friends. Do not endanger yourselves unnecessarily, but warn me of danger.” He listened carefully. “We don’t know. But we believe it is a demon.” He smiled. “Yes. I am more trouble than most humans,” he agreed. “But in my defense, I care more than most humans.” He sighed with relief. “Thank you, my friends. You are generous, and I am humbled.” Then he turned specifically to the roses, since he knew they appreciated the deference. “Thank you for granting me audience. Please let my bid for help spread as far and wide as your influence allows. And stay safe.”

The roses shifted slightly, and Castiel could feel the energy pulsing from them, could hear the buzz of the wavelength, the frequency he had come to think of as Plant Radio, extending in all directions. He could hear the lazy willows nearby pick up the message, heard them yawn and connect the order from the roses to broadcast to every blade of grass and massive red oak in the area. That was the only occupation of the willows among the community, amplifying a message, and then they fell back to sleep without care. Castiel could hear the wildlife begin to react in alarm, the birds and insects, who were especially in tune with the flora, understood the message and began their own conversations among them. The silt clay loam vibrated gently beneath his feet as the soil itself received the request.

“Now, I request an audience with the spirits, if you’ll allow the gateway.”

The roses coiled in response, and there was a breath of wind among them.

The spirit which attended him appeared as a meadowlark, resting on a rose’s thorned stem for support. She watched him thoughtfully, and then opened her beak. “You are Castiel.”

He nodded. “I am. Thank you for granting me an audience.”

She bowed her head slightly. “I am familiar with you.”

“May I know your name, spirit?”

“Dionaea. Do not speak it, but know it.”

It was a gift of respect between equals. Well, mostly equals. She made a point to say his name aloud, thereby claiming superiority over him. But it was a small thing. “Thank you. I ask a favor of the spirits who know me.”

“Those are many, Castiel. No green witch has garnered so much attention since one we called Charwin.”

This gave him a shiver of delight. “You mean Charles Darwin, of course.”

“So the humans called him. He was a personal favorite of my own. His connection to all living things was impressive. He was powerful in his understanding, though you are more so in your application.”

“Am I?”

The bird seemed to snort at him. “Your false modesty disappoints me.”

He hurried to correct himself. “No, I know that I am a strong witch. I just didn’t imagine I was stronger than he.”

“His capacity was for understanding the universe and its populace. Yours is the ability to tap into the strength of it. And yes. The spirits have noticed you.”

“I have only convened with the spirits twice before.”

The little bird shrugged. “And yet we always know where you are.”

He smiled. It was the same thing Dean had said to Sam, and what should have been unnerving about it simply felt safe instead. “The favor I ask is for information.”

“Knowledge is the source of strength. It will not be free.”

Castiel swallowed. “I know that. I’m willing to pay for it. There is a demon, with yellow eyes-“

“There are several of those. Be specific.”

He took a breath to concentrate. Conversations with spirits were tricky. It was like using a language common to both but native to neither. If he didn’t get his words right, he might get bad information or offend the spirit somehow, which could be dangerous in and of itself.

“Castiel?”

“They think his name-He calls himself Azazel. And he plans to bring harm to my lover Sam.”

The bird’s eyes flicked about, and if Castiel didn’t know better, he would think Dionaea was suddenly anxious. “Sam. The Winchester? You are connected to The Winchester?”

The roses gave a low hum of disturbance. He stared at them. “Yes? Is that...What is it that makes you-“

The bird extended her wings nervously, and the roses shivered. “The Winchester is dangerous.”

“Sam? Dangerous? No, it’s not the same man.”

“The Winchester of Azazel is destined to become Destruction. He is to become like Death.”

Castiel frowned darkly. “You’ve got the wrong man. Dean? Could it be Dean?”

“He is to roll through the forests and prairies and marshes and seas, and only Death will accompany him. So say the prophecies. So say the oldest of our spirits. Time in this world isn’t linear for us as for you, and we’ve lost track. Is it now? The end of times? Is it today?”

“Please. I need help to protect him!”

“You ally yourself with he who will be Destruction. He who will close off the spirit world to this place forever. You would make every spirit your enemy, and be loved by darkness!”

The soil and plants around him trembled. But he shook his head. “No!” he snapped. “This must be what the demon wants with him. To possess him and make him do these terrible things!”

The bird tipped her head in thought. “It may be. But it is not a possession which is foretold. It is an activation. And it is already in motion, if The Winchester is already here.”

“Then help me to stop it!”

The power in his voice stilled the roses and their allies. They were listening, he realized. They were deciding if he or this spirit was the authority here. The natural world around him was deciding who it could trust, whom to bind their loyalties to.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly. “This demon wants Sam Winchester, and I’m not going to give him up. I ask for the help of the spirits to protect him, to give me information I need to be ready. But if you will not aid me, I will defeat the demon myself. Neither Sam nor his brother will become any Destruction, not while I live and breathe. Help me now, or I will remember when you did not, Dionaea.”

The flora all around began to chitter in astonishment at his boldness. But he kept his gaze steady on the bird, even while his heart raced inside his chest.

“Ally with me to protect us all, or consider yourself my enemy, at your own peril.”

The bird stared him down for another moment, then seemed to smile. “We respect strength above other qualities, and you have that. Pray that you do not suffer from overconfidence, witch. We will aid you as well as we can.”

His eyes softened, and he lowered his head in deference. “I thank you for it.”

The bird took one last moment to search his face, then snipped at a rose thorn, breaking it off in her beak. She offered it to Castiel. “Defend that which you love, and if it becomes something you cannot love, kill it before it can kill us all.”

The thorn in his palm grew into a wicked, curved dagger, beautiful and deadly. He closed his eyes. “It won’t come to that.”

“Be safe, witch. And do not disappoint us.”

Castiel stared at the dagger, as a tangled ivy of fear grew inside him. He returned to his house, corrected the salt barrier, and when he went to sleep, he placed the dagger in his desk drawer. Then he curled around Sam’s sleeping form protectively, and promised himself that his last words to the spirit were true.

Give me strength, Mother...

Chapter Text

A claw scraped across Sam’s cheek, gashing it open to weep red, and he cried out with pain. The creature smiled at him, eyes burning yellow and wicked. “Been a long time, Sammy,” it snarled. “You better be worth all the trouble. All the waiting. Look around you. What do you see?”

He felt his breath running too shallow, and his heart was pounding in his throat. He tried to close his eyes, but the thing grabbed him and forced him to see his surroundings. The darkness became illuminated very slightly.

It hummed in satisfaction. “That’s right. Keep looking. When you think of home, what do you see? Give me more.”

Sam steeled himself against the creature’s will. He fought to think of anything else. “Get off of me!” he growled. Why couldn’t he throw a punch? Why couldn’t he use what his father had taught him, what Dean had helped him train to do, to get out of this thing’s grip? Why was he so weak?

“Home. Family.” The voice was grinding into him, forcing his mind toward the visions.

The illumination rose, until it seemed like just a thick morning fog, though Sam couldn’t remember ever seeing such a thing in this area before. There were three figures, dark and formless, ahead of them, and a fourth, large feature about the size of a…

“Car?” The demon began to laugh. “You sad thing. I tell you to think of home, and that’s what you give me?”

With his words, the Impala came into view, along with two of the three figures. John and Dean were there, though their faces were yet too dark to see. Sam began to sob. “I’m so sorry,” he cried out to his father and brother. “I’m so sorry! I tried to keep him away from you!”

“There’s big brother! I owe him a world of pain for what he did to my last meatsuit. And this must be Johnny! Pleased to meet you finally, Padre, this time from outside your body! I already met the lady of the house. Cooked her myself.”

Sam screamed in anguish. John and Dean stood still, staring as though they could neither hear nor see. The third figure was the only one to move, and it was entirely blue-black, like the night hadn’t been disturbed by the light of Sam’s visions.

“And who have we here?” The voice laughed again, but there was a lilt of doubt to it suddenly. “Show me his face, Sam. Who is this? Not your mother. Too tall, and anyway, you can’t possibly remember her. It’s a man, I think.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, though he knew it would make no difference. “Leave him alone!”

The third figure was stalking toward them like a warrior into battle. Wind that hadn’t been there before suddenly rose up like a whip, and beat itself between Sam and his captor, ripping them apart, tearing him free. He ran, without looking back, grabbed his brother’s arm, and pushed him toward the Impala.

“Go! Run! Hurry! Keep Dad safe! I’ll fight him off!”

But Dean was shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you. You know that,” he shouted into the wind.

The third figure was as dark and unrecognizable as ever, but as he approached the creature, he raised his arms and screamed. It sounded inhuman, and it chilled Sam to his core. Then he spoke, but the voice seemed to be all around them, seemed to shake the earth itself with its strength. “You’re not taking Sam Winchester. I won’t let you.”

Just hearing Castiel’s words filled him with relief. Too late, he realized how dangerous that emotion was.

The scene brightened around him, and he could see Castiel’s gardens, the wooded area near their house, and the house itself. Everything that made this place home was revealed, except for Castiel.

“No,” he breathed.

The demon turned its yellow glare on him. “I see you now,” he snarled.

Sam started awake with a horrified sobbing gasp.

His lover turned to him in concern. “Sam? Are you-“

He jumped from the bed and began tearing around the room, grabbing at his clothes. “We have to get out of here. Cas, we have to go! Now!”

Castiel was beside him instantly. “What do you mean? Sam?”

After the third drawer slammed, the door blew open to reveal Dean with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. “Sammy? What’s going on?”

Castiel stared at them both, but Sam swallowed hard and looked straight into his brother’s eyes. “Poughkeepsie,” he choked out through a sob.

Dean’s mouth dropped open. Then he snapped it shut, and stumbled back into the guest room without another word. Immediately, they could hear the same sort of hurry coming from that room. Sam continued his work, grabbing clothes and tossing them into a bag he pulled from under the bed.

“Sam, what’s happening? Why-Are you going to New York?”

He laughed a little hysterically. “No. I mean, maybe. Poughkeepsie, it’s-it’s a code word for-for dropping everything and running. And we have to run, Cas. Come on! Please pack something. Dean will get the car packed. We can get anything else we need on the road.”

Castiel grabbed his arm. “Sam! Stop!”

The young man was gasping, and he was trembling so hard he felt off-balance. But he stilled and looked at his lover.

“You were dead asleep just a minute ago! Now you’re saying, we have to pack a bag and go? Go where? And why?”

“He’s coming for me,” he hissed out. “He couldn’t find me, but now he knows where we are. He saw the house, he saw everything. He saw me.”

“Who? The demon? What-“

Tears streamed down his cheeks now. “This is the only home I’ve ever had, beyond that car out there. We’ve made it so perfect for us, you’ve made it all so beautiful, and...and now I’ve shown him where to find it. Our home, Cas. What I’ve wanted my whole life. I’ve given it to him.”

“This doesn’t make any…” Then his blue eyes narrowed. “Dream magic. Did he-Sam, wait. Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“It wasn’t a dream, Cas! He was there! He wanted me to show him where to find me! And you were there, and you promised not to let him take me, but as soon as I heard your voice, all I could think was how much I love you, and-and it revealed our home!”

A strange expression came over him. “And me? Did it reveal me?”

“What?”

“Sam, think. Did you see my face in your dream?”

He frowned down at Castiel, and shook his head. “No, I...I don’t think so. You were dark, like I couldn’t quite remember what you looked like. Which is crazy, except...except that’s how you always are in my dreams. I don’t know why.”

Castiel sighed with relief, and led Sam to sit on the bed. He called out to their guest. “Dean? It’s all right.”

The handsome face of his big brother appeared again in the doorway. “What?”

“It’s all right,” he said again. “It was just a dream.”

Dean frowned severely. “What? Sam?”

Sam was watching his lover. “It was a dream, but-“

“The demon is utilizing dream magic, something I’ve warded myself against since first learning of it many years ago. And when I first warded our home so long ago, I included protection against dream magic. I renewed all its wards last night, and that was part of it. We are safe here. In fact, if he’s employing dream magic, this is the safest place to be. It’s the one place he can’t find.”

Dean stared at him. “Want to tell me what we’re even talking about?”

Sam closed his eyes, and recalled the dream for them as well as he could. Each of the men listened carefully, without interruption. Gradually, he felt his racing heart steady.

Castiel nodded. “He’s searching for you. That’s good. That means he doesn’t know where you are.”

Dean agreed. “But you said he saw my face, recognized me, figured who Dad was. And then Cas stayed dark, but the place around the house lit up. I got that right? So maybe he didn’t see Cas, but it sounds to me like he saw the house.”

“No,” the witch corrected. “No, he saw something. But not this place. He thinks he saw what Sam saw, but my spells would have prevented that. He would see someplace else entirely, someplace that looked very similar but is far from here. My own ward is rudimentary,” he sighed with an eye roll. “I was less adept at my art when I created it, and so I will appear just as a shadow in the dream world. But I’ve learned some finesse since then, and the spellwork on this house and its land is far more subtle and complex.”

Dean shrugged at Sam. “That mean anything to you?”

A shaky smile played on his lips. “Sort of. I’ve done a lot of research on witchcraft since falling in love with a witch. Everything that isn’t pure bullshit, the real stuff, is pretty intricate. And Cas is especially powerful, apparently. If he says we’re safest here, we are.”

“For now,” Castiel clarified. “Should he try another method, he may have more success. But so long as he thinks he knows where you are, you’re safe here. We can all sleep without worry.”

Sam looked back at him to find dark circles of exhaustion around Castiel’s lovely eyes. “Cas? You were already tired by the time you saved Dean last night. And you did God knows what after I went to bed, protecting us. Are you going to be all right?”

Castiel gave him a weak smile. “Of course. I’ll hold out as long as you need me to. Just...some rest would help.”

Dean was still watching the witch, but he began to nod. “Okay. Yeah, okay, us too. Sammy, bunk down for now, and try to keep the dreams to a low roar. If you can’t sleep, at least rest. Turn your brain off.”

Were there people who could do that? “I’ll try. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The older man stared at Castiel for one last moment, then turned and walked away, dragging his hand down his face wearily. He closed the door behind him.

“He doesn’t trust me,” his lover murmured.

Sam snorted. “Welcome to the family. We’re all paranoid bastards. Dean trusts you as much as he trusts anybody who isn’t me. So take it as a compliment.”

Castiel heaved a sigh, and nodded. He curled back onto the bed with effort.

“You’ll be okay, right, babe?”

The man’s eyes were already closed, but he smiled. “I’ll be anything you need me to be, my love. Always.”

Sam lay beside him and whispered, “I need you to be okay.”

“So I will be. Can you sleep?”

“After what just happened? Not a chance. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”

Castiel’s eyes opened slowly, and he wet his lips in concentration. “May I help you sleep? I’ve protected you from nightmares before,” he reminded him.

“Cas, you’re so tired already-“

“Please, Sam. Let me do this one last thing, to let you sleep safely.”

He took a deep breath. “What else have you done tonight? Before coming to bed?”

A darkness seemed to float over the witch then, and he shook his head on the pillow. “I asked for help.”

“From who?”

“The land. The plants I know as friends, and those they know as friends. They watch over us. They will alert me if trouble comes here.”

Sam nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing that?”

Castiel sighed. “Sam, I have the right to protect myself and my home. I promised I wouldn’t cast anything that would affect you directly, but I didn’t promise not to use what I know to protect your home. Maybe you don’t see it that way, but I do. This is my home too. Ours. I’m not allowing anything to threaten us while we are in it. My power works best within these grounds, where I’m connected to the earth, where I’ve cultivated and nurtured what grows. Elsewhere, I can work with strangers, but here, I am among friends. And so long as you are here, you are among them as well.”

His gaze had softened throughout the speech. “Your plants. They consider me a friend too?”

A new brightness came over Castiel’s tired face. “They do. It began as them simply accepting you because I asked them to, for me. But it didn’t take long for them to recognize you as a good soul, and they consider you theirs now too.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. That’s...that’s an honor, isn’t it?”

Castiel surged toward him to press his lips against his own. He sighed happily. “It is. And I love you so much for knowing that, for understanding.”

“I don’t understand. But I respect it all anyway. And I’m grateful that your friends...our friends will look after us.”

“Should I cast something simple to help you sleep?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I still don’t want you using your magic on me. I don’t like the idea of not being in control. I know you’re only trying to help. But more than ever, I need to be in complete control. A demon just played inside my mind, Cas. I don’t want anyone in there, not even you. Can you...You get that it isn’t about trust, right? It’s about autonomy.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes. I think I get that. Will you promise to ask me for help if you feel you need it?”

“I will. Of course I will.”

“Then I’ll back off. I don’t want to be inside your mind, Sam, affecting you in any way. I just want to know you’re all right.”

“I will be. I’m stronger than you think. You and Dean are so hellbent on protecting me that you forget that I’m a grown man. I appreciate the help. But I can take care of myself too.”

An odd look passed over Castiel’s eyes. “Yes, Sam,” he murmured. “And...and you would tell me if you weren’t feeling right. If you weren’t feeling like yourself.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know. Just...just don’t block me out, okay? I need to know how you’re feeling, and I’m promising not to investigate on my own, so you have to tell me. Okay?”

“Sure. Okay.” He stood out of the bed again. “I’m going to spend some time in my den, researching a little. If I’m not going to sleep, I might as well educate myself on what the hell is going on, if I can. It’s what I do, after all.”

“Goodnight, my love. Wake me if you need me.”

He smiled grimly into the dark as he turned off his lamp. “I need you. So sleep while you can.”

With that, he walked with determination toward his den, where he would spend the rest of the night studying ancient lore and folktales about a demon with yellow eyes, called Azazel, protection against evil, and the terrifying thing called dream magic.

Chapter Text

Dean looked up as his brother emerged from his bedroom groggily. He smirked at the bed head. “You know, just give me five minutes with some clippers…”

Sam scowled at him and ran his hand through his hair. “Shut up.” He dropped into the chair across from him at the breakfast table.

“Cas awake?”

The younger man shook his head and yawned. “No. And he must be fried. It’s not like him to sleep this long in the morning. We both called out of work all week. We said we had the flu. He and I never use our sick leave, so…”

He nodded. “Huh. Kind of forget sometimes that Mondays mean jobs for some people.”

His kid brother snorted. “Yeah. Normal people. Normal people have jobs and responsibilities.”

“That sounds like it sucks.” He wasn’t about to let Sam rile him. Not when Dean was on the most important job of his life right at that moment.

He was rewarded with a tiny smile. “Sometimes it does,” he confessed with a chuckle. “I love my job. I do. But…”

Realization came over him then. “You miss it! You miss the road!”

“No.” Sam put his hand up firmly. “I do not miss the road. Every day, I’m grateful to have a roof and four walls with no wheels. I especially don’t miss the road food! But sometimes I do miss the action. Dad had us on some wild adventures as kids. Chasing his ghosts, training to fight demons. Even after I knew…” He smiled sadly. “Even after I thought I knew it was all in his head, it was still pretty exciting. He must’ve taken us to every haunted house out there.”

“Trying to find the thing that killed Mom. He brought us in the daylight to help salt and burn bones in graveyards, and then locked us in the Impala or a motel room at night, to go make sure the job was finished. If it wasn’t, he tangled with the spirit himself. But he never found this Azazel thing that’s looking for you now.”

Sam shook his head. “God, it’s still so hard to believe, after so long. And you? You’ve been...hunting these things all this time? Alone?”

He shrugged and warmed his hands on his coffee mug, and ignored its cheery message about eating local and organic. “Not always. I’ve met up with a handful of hunters over the years. Some Dad knew, some he didn’t. But they all knew him. John Winchester...He’s a legend, Sammy. Dad was an obsessed bastard, not going to win any Dad of the Year awards, but he really was a hero, man. We never knew all the people he saved along the way. Even when the thing he was hunting was just a mirage, just a-a fantasy in his head, he was still fighting to protect us.”

The young man leaned across the table to look into his eyes. “So you do think some of it wasn’t real.”

Dean gave him a sigh and sat back. “Yeah. Dad...Dad was messed up, Sammy, and the drinking didn’t help. There were times he got something in his head and he chased after it, and it turned out to be a lot of nothing. But when he was right, he was the best at what he did. You can be proud of him, man. Some of what he was fighting were the demons in his own head, and that ain’t any easier than the real thing. I think maybe it’s harder.”

Those hazel eyes were just as expressive and emotional as ever, and they sparkled with tears before blinking them away. “Yeah,” Sam murmured. “Yeah. Wish I could talk to him one last time.”

“Don’t do that, man. You’ll make yourself crazy as him thinking in circles like that. What could’ve been. He knew you loved him. You knew he loved you. Everything else is just talk. And you know he hated chick flick moments.”

Sam laughed finally, through the emotion in his throat. “Right. Um, did you find something to eat?”

“About an hour back. You get any sleep last night after the panic attack?”

“It wasn’t-Shut up. And no. I dozed a little after dawn, but I spent most of the night researching.”

His brother smiled at him. “Right. That’s what you do now, right? Work for a library or a museum or something. Little Sammy, same old encyclopedia of weirdness.”

“It’s Sam,” came the dry response.

“Find out anything?”

Sam sighed and lifted himself to track down breakfast. “Nothing helpful. Mostly scary crap. Like demon possession and exorcisms, which I’m not sure even work.”

“Some do. I can never remember all the Latin crap. But Dad’s journal talked about using them.”

“I found one that seems pretty solid, and I memorized it. Again, who knows if it’ll work, or if just a random guy can say the words and that’s all it takes. Like, maybe it has to be a priest or someone.”

Dean watched him, fondly noting all the things that had changed about the kid since he had last seen him. “You’re a lot of things, man, but you’ll never be just a random guy.”

Sam snorted again, but did not respond.

“So? Witch, huh, Sammy?”

“Let it drop, Dean. He saved your life.”

“No, I know. But he’s mostly just a weird, nerdy little guy like you, isn’t he?” He laughed at the look Sam threw him. “You’re right. Nothing little about you anymore. What are you, six three?”

There was the smug smirk Dean had loved and hated his whole childhood. “Six four and a quarter.”

“The quarter inch is all hair.”

“Screw you.”

They were bantering and teasing like old times all morning, when a knock came at the door just before noon.

Dean sobered immediately. “You expecting company?”

“You know I’m not. But nowhere in the lore did it talk about demons knocking on the front door.”

All the same, Dean pulled his gun and Sam went to the door with fear in his eyes.

Just as Sam opened the door, a startling wind crashed through the air around them, and every tree and plant in the vicinity shook in it. The cacophony shocked the brothers, and caused them both to take a step back.

There was no one on the front step.

Dean frowned sharply. “Get back inside. Close the door.”

Sam hurried to do so, then pulled a curtain aside to look out at the way the sudden wind was blowing violently through the trees.

“What are you doing?”

The men turned to find Castiel standing in the hall in just a pair of jogging pants, with blue lines cutting designs across his chest, neck and even his hands and feet.

“Cas,” Sam breathed.

Dean wanted to raise his weapon, but he forced himself to hold it down. “What the hell happened to you?”

Even Castiel’s eyes were shining bright blue like the spidery lines across his skin. “What are you doing?” he demanded again in a growl.

Sam’s breath had caught in his throat, but he cleared it now. He took a step toward his lover with a hand out as though approaching a wild animal. “Cas? I just heard a knock, so I answered the door. But no one is there. It’s just the wind.”

The lines pulsed with a blue glow, and Castiel shook his head. “I can feel it. The land is warning us. Something is here.”

“What happened to your skin? Your eyes?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I’m storing power. Or I was, until every alarm in a two mile radius began screaming for my attention.”

“What’s here?” Dean said quietly. “Is it the demon?”

“It is something the natural world does not trust. It may be the demon. I don’t know, because they don’t know.”

“That’s the best you can give me?” Dean snapped. “Something’s here that’s pissing off your shrubs?”

Castiel glared at him. “A mighty demon hunter like you needs more than that?”

Sam threw his hands up. “All right, all right. Stop.” He pointed outside. “Cas, what the hell is going on? What’s the land telling you?”

The lines of blue all over Castiel’s skin were dimming now, but Dean continued to stare at them until he realized they were not random. They formed symbols, glyphs, like glowing tattoos. Witchy glyphs. “What spells are you using?” he demanded.

Castiel turned back to him with narrowed eyes. “I told you. I’m storing power in case I need it. I’m burned out, but there are ways of recharging that...So long as I don’t do it all the time, I can recharge my energy and spirit by borrowing the strength of the universe around me. If it allows me to do so.”

“Is that...hurting you?” Sam fretted.

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Dean was watching those eyes intently, and his stomach tightened. “He likes it,” he murmured. “The power. He likes it.”

A jagged streak of blue flashed down Castiel’s throat to his left hip like angry lightning. Both brothers took an involuntary step back. Castiel glowered at Dean. “Of course I like it,” he snapped. “It’s more strength than you will ever be able to understand. But I’ve never sought it simply for its own sake. You don’t know me. Don’t try to judge me. I’m more than you could ever comprehend.” Another angry blue slash cut across the right side of his face, below his eye, then a smaller one on his right hand, which ran along his veins.

Dean’s own hand was on his weapon.

“Cas.”

The sound of Sam’s voice caused Castiel’s eyes to focus and then soften. He took a breath and turned away from Dean to address his lover. “I’m sorry, Sam. Everything is going to be fine. I need to be ready if you need my protection. And the land tells me I’m running out of time. Without recharging, I would be essentially useless at best, a hindrance at worst. Bringing Dean back from death yesterday, and everything else in the past two days, has completely drained me. And I can’t be defenseless right when you need me most. I’d never be able to forgive myself if you were hurt.”

Sam was nodding slowly. “Cas, I trust you. But you have to keep yourself in check. I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s scaring me.”

The witch flinched at these words, and the conceit faded away from his features and voice. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time it sounded more genuine. “Please don’t be scared. You don’t have to be scared. I just want to be prepared for anything that might-“

The knock came at the door again, and they all froze. Dean’s gaze flicked from one to another, then he shook his head as Sam stepped toward the door. Instead, he reached up to move the curtain aside again.

A large figure in a long, dark coat was walking-no, limping-away from the front step. Dean frowned. He yanked the door open, then held his gun in both hands in front of him. “Hey! Who are you? What do you want?”

The man stopped, and turned toward him very slowly.

Dean’s hands lowered the weapon even as his mouth dropped open.

The man smiled grimly. “Hey, Dean. It’s going to be okay. I’m here now. We can protect him together.”

Dean stared. He could feel the others behind him, but it was like a dream, and everything was surreal. “Dad?”

John Winchester nodded. “Let me in. I can explain. And together, we can get Sammy through this.”

Chapter Text

A roommate in college had once teased Castiel about the contradiction of being enamored of botany and also a vegetarian. He had simply smiled, and launched into a lecture about how much water and plant mass it took to raise livestock for consumption. However, as true as that was, Castiel knew there was more to it. Everything in the world was connected. Every living thing, whether a bee or a redwood or a fungus, a pig or a tiger or an algae, was connected to every other living thing in the world. And sometimes, they were even connected to otherworldly things.

The earth was a living, breathing entity, which was infinitely connected to the energy and materials of the universe as a whole. Humans were cells of that creature, just like every other living thing was. Humans, though, tended to be cancerous. The earth’s immune system fought against these destructive cells with varying degrees of success, at times, but in general, humans were tolerated by the grace of the universe, even at the expense of other cells which suffered at their hands. Castiel’s fascination was primarily with the lungs of the earth, and the metabolic system, the way the world fed itself and perpetuated itself and cleansed itself of waste left by this process. Throughout history, there had been some groups of people or individuals who had reached an understanding of this inter-connectivity, and who learned to live within this system. Many of them had been burned at the stake, crucified as heretics, or crushed by invading forces. But there were yet some, and Castiel was one.

There existed some gateways to the synchronous world of spirits. One, which Castiel hoped to see himself one day, was the nearly eight hundred year old ring of Infundibulicybe geotropa in northeastern France, which spanned two thousand feet in diameter, according to some estimates. There were tiny, shorter-lived ones which popped up unexpectedly, and those who happened across them knew them colloquially as fairy circles or pixie rings. The Lomatia tasmanica, older than 43,000 years, was the last living gateway to one particular part of the spirit world which used only that clonal colony as passage. Castiel had once made a pilgrimage to Methuselah in California’s White Mountains, to pay respects to the oldest known living individual tree in the world, and he was unsurprised to find that he guarded a portal to the spirit world.

That was where he had met Gabriel.

He had spoken directly to spirits twice before this week. The first time was at the foot of Methuselah, where he had humbly begged a conference and had gotten far more than he had bargained for.

Gabriel had appeared as a Sierra Nevada red fox, and had winked at him first thing.

Castiel had been a very young witch at that point, and he had stared in awe.

The fox snickered quietly. “Really? I was last summoned by Besa-Yoona, an artistic genius, and now this dummy? What do you want? Make it quick. The last time somebody got my attention from this site, then annoyed me, I created the Flood of the Sagehen. The original one, the one that wiped nearly all the people from this region.”

Castiel blinked several times. “I don’t intend to annoy you! I’m-“

Gabriel had used his back leg to scratch at an ear. “I know who you are. Cassie, Cassie, cute and sassy.”

He was certain great Methuselah had chuckled at that. “May I know your name, great spirit?”

“No. That’s rude and annoying. A few hundred miles north, they called me Mishaabooz. So you can call me Misha. I always liked that one. Of course, half a world away, I’m Eleguá. I like that one too. People bring me candy and cigars in that form, and I dig the Santería vibe.”

The candy was a tip-off. “Ah. A Trickster spirit. Like Coyote.”

The fox scowled at him. “He’s a bitch. Also goes by Loki in some parts, Anansi in others. Always trying to work my corners.” He yawned then. “Did you call just to chat, or…?”

“I called to learn.”

The fox tilted its head and examined him carefully. “Learn what?”

“Anything you’ll teach me. I’m an apt student.”

“Knowledge is strength. Never free, kiddo.”

He nodded. “I understand. How do I pay you, Misha?”

At last, the fox gave him a true smile. “Gabriel,” he said quietly. “They call me Gabriel.”

Castiel smiled with triumph.

Among the wonderful things Gabriel had taught him was illusion. In between the rambling lectures about pleasuring females, which sounded more like boasting than tutoring, the amiable spirit had gifted him with the understanding of magical deception and transformation which came so naturally to spirits and so clumsily to humans. Obfuscation, he called it. After all these years, it came to Castiel’s call as easy as breathing.

“Ajagun,” he whispered as Dean stumbled back and allowed for the entry of this large stranger. “Maṣe wo.”

Sam was staring at this man, but he looked at Dean as though he were the only one in the room. “Where is he?”

Dean’s face looked quite young suddenly, and it seemed as though he were caught between terror and hope. “Dad?” he choked out. “But how?”

The stranger shook his head. “We don’t have time for this. Where is your brother?”

Sam’s voice sounded deeper than Castiel could ever remember hearing it. “Dad? I’m...right here.”

Castiel could hear the plants in the area singing to him, warning him of darkness, unnatural and malicious. “He can’t see or hear you, Sam. I’ve hidden us from him.”

“He’s…” Dean glanced back at Castiel, then took a deep breath. “How are you here, Dad? I buried you. Next to Mom’s ashes. How are you here?”

“It doesn’t matter how! Sam, where is he?”

Dean shook his head, and pain tightened his face. “He’s out. It’s just me.”

John, if that was who this was, sighed and tossed his hands up. “Okay. He’s coming back here?”

The older son nodded, and tried to clear his throat. “Yeah. Should be on his way any minute.” He slid his gaze to Castiel, who watched with a raised brow and narrow eyes. “Dad…”

The man smiled at him finally. “Hey, son. I know you’re confused, but you’ve gotta trust me. Okay? This demon you’ve been tracking; I’ve been tracking him too. I had to let it think I was dead, and that meant making you and Sam think so too. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Sam let out a breath, and gasped it back in. Tears were easing out of his eyes. “Dad’s been alive? All this time?” he whispered.

Dean glanced at him quickly, then turned back to his father. “The demon, his name is Azazel. I caught up with him-“

“I know. You did a great job, son.”

At last, Dean began to breathe shallowly. “I nearly died. Had to retreat.”

“You did right. Your life is the most important thing. That comes before the job, you know that.”

Dean went silent.

Sam looked at his lover. “God, Cas, stop. Whatever you’re doing to hide me, please stop. I need to talk to him!”

But Castiel caught the flash in Dean’s green eyes, and he kept his illusion steady. “Not yet, Sam.”

Dean cleared his throat again. “Dad, where have you been? Are you okay? And how did you find us?”

“I’m good, son. I found the Impala. We should really hide that before the demon finds it.”

“Yeah. I will. But, see, the car is off the road. And you’d have to have had some idea where to look if-“

“I’ve got contacts, Dean. They keep an eye out for that car. This isn’t important right now.”

He nodded slowly. “When...when I tangled with Azazel, I nearly died, but...but I was real close to killing him.”

John laughed quietly. “Can’t kill a demon, son.”

“I can. I found a weapon. It’ll kill anything.”

His father frowned. “No such thing.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty incredible. But I had to decide between killing it and saving me, and...and so I got myself safe. I’m sorry, Dad.”

Sam stared. “What weapon? What is he talking about?”

John put a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You made the right choice,” he said again. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean shook his head and took a step back. “No. He wouldn’t be proud of me. He’d be pissed that I missed my chance to end this. He’d be shouting at me…”

Sam gasped in a small breath. “The job comes before everything.”

“What are you talking about? Dean, where is your brother? I have to know he’s safe.”

“He would be drilling me about the demon, about the weapon, about Sam-“

“Where is he?” John growled.

“Dean, it’s not Dad!”

Castiel sucked in his breath as John threw his fist into Dean’s face, slamming him across the room on the floor. “Dean!” he cried.

His new friend put up a hand to stop Castiel, eyes glaring in warning. Then he turned back to this large man. “You’re not my father. And I’m not telling you jack about my brother.”

Finally, John’s eyes flashed a sickening yellow, and he raised his hand again. This time, an invisible force lifted Dean as though by his throat and pinned him against the far wall. “You are so much trouble,” the demon complained.

“Bite me.”

“You know, there are very few pieces of this brain left. Worms ate most of it. But the leftovers don’t show many thoughts of you, Deano.”

Dean was gasping for his breath.

“Cas!” Sam cried.

“Wait, Sam. I can’t determine how powerful he is. If I let down the block, and he finds you, I may not be able to protect you!”

“Now, Sam, that’s a different story. He doted on Sam, didn’t he? You got the extra cookie for being obedient, but Sam got the scarred up strips of steak left of his heart. Even when they fought, that was more attention than he ever gave you. Johnny didn’t care whether you lived or died, and you know it. That was my mistake, thinking maybe you didn’t realize killing me came before saving you.”

“My dad would have gone to hell for me, you bastard.”

The demon tightened his grip, forcing a hoarse cry of pain from Dean’s lips. “He did. That’s where he is now, because he died saving you in that last hunt. But if that last fight had been with me? He would have sacrificed you to have even a shot at killing me. I’m Azazel, you infant. The only thing he cared about was Sam and me!”

“Enough of this!” Sam shoved past Castiel. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...”

The demon stopped and sniffed the air. “I smell an exorcism,” he sang out.

“Sam!” Castiel cried.

“Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare…”

Dean’s eyes were rolling back and closing, his body stilling.

“Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis…”

Castiel took a deep breath and shifted the spell so that Sam’s voice could be heard but its source could not be located. Sweat formed on his forehead at the effort.

“Sammy,” Dean croaked.

“Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine...quem inferi tremunt…”

Azazel searched the room, tossing the table aside, and releasing his victim to fall to the floor in a heap. “Where are you, Sammy boy?”

“Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

Azazel froze, and for an instant, Castiel felt the demon peer through the illusion long enough to lock eyes with Sam, and smile. Then black smoke billowed from John Winchester’s body, and burned into the floor below.

Sam dropped to the floor beside his brother. “Dean! Dean! Are you all right? Dean!”

Castiel stared down at the dead body on the floor as it crackled and collapsed into ash and dust before them, and dissolved into nothing. “He wasn’t here,” he hissed.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open slowly. “Sam?”

“What does that mean?” Sam shrieked.

The witch dropped his head into his hands. “He was never really here. He projected himself, like with the dream magic. He didn’t know where we were, not really. But now he does. He saw you, Sam. I’m so sorry. In order to allow you to work your exorcism, I-I allowed him to find you. I thought...but it wasn’t enough. Azazel knows where you are now, Sam. He will be coming here.”

Sam lifted Dean to a sit against the wall. He hardened his eyes. “Good,” he barked. “I’m done hiding. I won’t live like this. Let him come, and I’ll face him.”

“You’ll die,” Dean coughed out.

“No,” Castiel sighed. “I’m afraid it’s something far worse than that which this demon wants from Sam.”

“Like what?”

“Unfortunately, we are soon to find out.”

Chapter Text

An exorcism sent a demon back to Hell, and from what Sam could tell from his research, it was no simple thing to crawl back out, at least not for average hellspawn. But everything he could find on Azazel referred to him as a Prince of Hell, among the first Lucifer had created during his chaotic bender.

Two days ago, Sam had not believed in demons. Now he had exorcised a Prince of Hell, who was seeking him personally for some wicked plot. “I don’t know, man. Demons. Isn’t that a little beyond our pay grade?” Sam had sighed at Dean while Castiel healed him as well as he could.

Dean smirked at him. Pain hid in those green eyes, and Sam knew it was not only physical damage that Azazel had inflicted upon his brother. “You kidding? A hunter, a witch and an overgrown nerd against one little demon? We got this!”

Now Dean was resting, and Castiel was sitting quietly in the middle of the floor, murmuring words that worried Sam.

“He’s going to be all right?”

The witch cleared his throat softly. “Bruised windpipe. I was able to fix nearly everything else. He’s quite strong.”

“You keep saying that.” Sam sighed again, and lowered himself to the floor beside his lover.

“It remains true. He is resilient in ways most people are not. It makes the job of healing him simpler.”

“Except that it takes energy away from you to do it.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed that eerie blue again, and he smiled. “I have some to spare now. I was able to complete my work from earlier. I will now be at full strength for as long as we need me to be. I hope it is enough.”

Sam nodded. “And...what’s that doing to you?”

The eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and put his hand on Castiel’s. “I’ve researched witches and magic, Cas. No two books seemed to have the same ideas, except this. Power comes at a price. Everything I read, no matter what else it said, it always said that.”

Castiel gave him a quiet smile. For a moment, he was the same shy, awkward, endearing man as always, staring up at Sam the way he always had, with utter devotion and adoration. “I should have known you would know that. You’re really remarkable, Sam. The way you absorb information, make sense of puzzles from ancient to contemporary, the way you store away knowledge...Like the exorcism. Neither Dean nor I could have done that. My words of power are written into my soul. If I had to memorize long passages like that, in a non-native language-“

“I’m smart,” Sam interrupted dryly. “And you’re avoiding my question.”

“What does access to this power cost me? That depends upon that from which I borrow it. Sometimes it is as simple as an exchange of knowledge. Sometimes a promise for a future favor. Sometimes...sometimes it is a debt of time.”

“What does that mean?”

He continued to smile, but there was a sadness there which bothered Sam. “Time. Time from the future or the past, bargained away for the sake of power at present. That’s what this will cost me, and I’ll never regret it. The spirit, Patrick, whom I met once before, came when I called this morning, and offered a trade. He would recharge my strength, and he would take from me one year’s time.”

Sam watched him in horror. “What? How-how do you even-“

“Patrick is straightforward and fair, and never, ever does he forget to collect. At his leisure, he will extract a year of time from me. He has offered to take it in small increments, in maybe as many as twenty-five parts, so that I miss it as little as possible.”

“Twenty-five...Cas! That’s nearly two-week increments! What are you even talking about?”

“I suspect he will take most from my past, and a bit from the end of my life.”

“How can he take...This is insane! How can he take parts of your life you’ve already lived?” Sam shouted.

“Shh. Let Dean rest. Sam, this is a low price to pay in order to be able to protect you, and heal Dean, and it will likely extend my own life-perhaps already has! So don’t-“

Sam shook his head and stood on shaky legs. “What if he takes time we’ve had together?”

Castiel closed his mouth suddenly.

“Or what if he takes time during which you learned something important? What if-“

“Sam, it’s done. It’s my life, belovéd, and I will sacrifice all of it for your safety. Dean is willing to die for you, and he has no such protection as I’ve got. He is willing to sacrifice his entire life and receive nothing in return. This was a calculated bargain, Sam, and I made it without hesitation. Patrick gave me access to my full strength, with nothing to hold me back. It’s a price worth paying.”

Sam began to argue again, but at that moment, Castiel shot to his feet. “What is it?”

The witch stalked toward the front door like the warrior from Sam’s dream had walked through the fog. “Wake Dean. My plants are warning of danger. Wake Dean and stay here, locked in the house.”

“Cas-“

But the blue eyes shone with that incredible magic again, and his words caught in his throat. “Sam? No matter what happens, you are a good man. Remember that. I believe that with my whole heart. And with that whole heart, I love you.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Sam stared after him, then tore into the guest room to wake his brother. “Dean? It’s here. Something is here. Cas-He went out to-I don’t know what he went to do. He told us-“

“Breathe, little brother.”

“He said to stay here, locked in. God, Dean, he’s putting himself between us and it!”

Dean was up and checking his handgun, but he nodded. “He’s a good guy, Sammy. He’s warded the place, so we should be safe for now.”

“But Cas!”

Green eyes locked onto his mercilessly. “Sammy? I’ve seen a lot of witches in my time. They can do some crazy shit. And this one is more powerful than any I ever saw, and he’s also the only one I ever knew willing to use it for somebody else’s sake. Let him do what he thinks he can do. My job is to protect my kid brother, and that’s what I’m going to do. You get in line with me and Cas. We can’t afford to not be on the same page. Come on.”

Sam’s throat was closing up, and he felt sick. He was breathing too shallowly. “Dean?” he groaned desperately as his chest tightened. “I love him.”

His brother had been heading for the living room, but he stopped and looked back at him. “I know, man. And if I gotta go out and try to save his ass, I will. But you saw what this demon can do. I got nothing that will take him out, Sammy. You know I’ll do anything I can. Go grab the holy water. Go.”

“As long as you know,” Sam said quietly, “I’ll do whatever I can too. For both of you.”

***

Despair filled the witch’s chest as the bright sky filled with black clouds. He could feel the tremble of the younger creatures in his gardens, the determination of the elders, the bracing of the warriors among them.

“Thank you for fighting with me, my friends,” Castiel whispered. “You could simply watch and protect yourselves. But instead you prepare for battle with me against what evil comes for my belovéd.”

The response was a ripple of breeze through the leaves nearby, and he smiled at the correction.

“Our belovéd,” he confirmed with an ache of pride. “You’re right. He belongs to all of us.”

The roses scratched a question with their thorns, and he took a step toward them.

“He is good, friends. You know that. Ignore what the spirit said. She doesn’t know what we know of Sam.”

It seemed to be all they needed to hear.

He went back to staring at the black smoke racing toward them from the distance, and he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet fragrances and power of the plants around him.

Just as the smoke darkened the fields as black as night, Castiel murmured very ancient words, “Fás agus sroicheadh…urghabháil!”

The roses and the stalks and trees all acted with him. Sinewy vines erupted from Castiel’s forearms, below his palms, and stretched toward the jets of black smoke coming toward his home. He cast several spells in rapid succession, not even feeling the strain of the effort, not with his adrenaline rushing in his veins. The plants around him all stretched impossibly to capture the smoke inside buds and branch cages. His own lianas tore through the smoke, dispersing it into chaos and deflecting its aim.

The wind obeyed him, and soon the black smoke which had escaped the assault was ripped to pieces inside a tornadic funnel too strong to escape.

“Minions,” Castiel snarled, and the roses scratched back in agreement. These were only the front line fighters, and though he had dealt with them quite effectively, he suspected this was the easiest of what was coming.

If there was anything his friends despised, it was black smoke. Demonic or otherwise, the plants were perfectly happy to tear this smog into nothing. The tendrils of fumes seemed entirely unprepared for the vicious attack by the vegetation. All of the smoke had been heading for Castiel’s house, and not a single puff reached it. What became of a demon in the form of black smoke when that form has been shredded and sent gasping to a tornado? Castiel would have to ask Sam later. For now, he reveled in the sunlight, having vanquished the darkness which blocked it.

He spared a glance at the nearest window. Sam was staring in terror at Castiel. Dean was pulling him away. Castiel turned back to the oncoming fight. He may have survived the first round, but he had no delusions that this was over. He would have to trust Dean to keep Sam safe while he fought whatever came at them next.

And when Castiel was inevitably killed?

“Protect him,” he murmured to his land. “Grow over this home until nothing can slip in, and he cannot come out for me. Cover every wall, the roof, every window and the foundation, until he and his brother cannot be reached by any evil. Provide for him. Do this for me, for the love I’ve given you. If I fall today, do this for me, and use what remains of me and my magic to fuel you. I give myself and my magic to you freely, and ask that you use it to seal him in away from evil, and provide for him what he needs for as long as you can.”

The roses sighed, and Castiel could smell their promises. At the same time, a great oak shuddered its leaves angrily from the front line of the forest.

Castiel smiled. “No, old warrior,” he agreed. “That’s not plan A.”

He could feel massive surges of power flowing from him in waves, feeding his friends and grounding him stubbornly among them. When Patrick had agreed to give him his full strength, Castiel had not had any idea what that might truly mean.

“I cannot give you more than you can naturally wield,” he had said quietly.

“I understand. Give me access to my potential. It’s all I ask.”

Patrick had shrugged, and taken the toothpick from his lips. He was a rare spirit, who took the form of a human, though the tips of his ears came to a bit of a point, and his fingers, which always held a deck of cards with ominous symbols on them, were just a little too long. “Right. Off you go then. An hour’s meditation should give you everything you need. Good luck in your fight, witch. I’ve got odds against you.”

He had snickered dryly. “What is a bet like that worth, I wonder?”

The spirit had given him that handsome grin. “A cat called Gabriel and I are negotiating terms back home.”

Castiel had widened his eyes. “Gabriel? He’s betting on me?”

“Gabriel is a sly bitch and a high roller, but he tends to take the safe bet. He’s betting on the demon prince. I’m betting on you.”

He stared. “Why?”

“Because I got the house edge, my friend,” Patrick said cooly. “I know what power you’ve got because I’m the one topping off your tank. Gabe knows you’re clever. But I can see you’re also strong.” He gave the witch a smart wink. “I wouldn’t like to be going into a battle like this myself. But I’m going to have fun watching from a safe distance. And, Castiel?”

“Yes?”

“Do remember that you’re playing for the sake of the world, not just your human friend. And most importantly, remember I’ve got a bet riding on you.”

The witch smirked as he thought of those words. It summarized beautifully how spirits felt about the human world in general. Individual humans were unimportant, with very rare exceptions. Humanity itself was only slightly more important; the natural world ranking still higher. But at the top level of concern was always the spirit itself.

So when he received a message by way of his roses, it shocked him.

“Droseraceae” came the hiss.

Castiel stared down at the roses. From every thorn erupted a slithering snake, a cacophony of colors and sounds breaking through. “Dros…”

It was the name of a carnivorous plant family, one he had studied for years as a graduate student. Nearly two hundred species of plants which feasted very differently from most other plant life.

“Droseraceae,” the snakes repeated, and now there were hundreds of them, spilling out all around him.

“What are you-“

“We are sent by a spirit who has pledged herself as an ally to the Droseraceae,” the largest of the serpents whispered. “We fight with the Droseraceae against that which threatens those whom the plants of this world have accepted as their patron.”

Castiel huffed out a short laugh. “Joke’s on you, Dionaea. I’m a vegetarian.”

He had just enough time to be relieved that he had acquired an unexpected small army before eight figures in dark coats slammed into the field before him, including one with bright yellow eyes who gently touched down behind the others. He pushed down his fear, and spoke without allowing a tremble in his voice.

“You’re not taking Sam Winchester,” he said. The wind and his natural deep timbre carried his words easily. “I won’t let you.”

The demon with the yellow eyes simply smiled.

Chapter Text

Dean was salting the window. It was as salted as it was going to get, but Sam figured it helped him to be doing something.

Sam just stared in horror at the scene outside the house. “He’s just a botanist,” he murmured. “He’s the shyest, most awkward guy I have ever met.”

“He’s a freaking witch, Sammy. Look at him!” Dean was shaking his head. “Whoever wins this fight, I’m stabbing it in the face. Demon, witch-Hell, I don’t care if it is a freaking angel or a fairy, we’re killing it. Nothing that powerful-“

“You’re not hurting Cas…Cas!”

Dean looked up at the cry, in time to see the witch out in the conjured windstorm crash to the ground with a gesture from the blond bitch who was stalking toward him. “Shit. There goes our front line.”

Sam was clawing at the door, but Dean’s strong arms held him back. “Let me go!”

“No! Sam, dammit, you go out there, and everything he’s doing is for nothing! You get that? Stop! Just stop! He’s protecting you! You go out there and that’s it! We are all done!”

“He’s hurt! Dean, I can’t let him fight without-“

His brother’s voice was a roar now. “Sam, I got nothing that’ll kill that damn demon! If I did, I’d be out there in a heartbeat. What he did to Mom, to Dad, what he’s trying to do to you-But I don’t! So my job is to keep you out of its reach! Let Cas do what he can, and when we gotta run...Sam, we gotta run.”

“But Cas!”

He could hear the emotion in his brother’s growl. “If we gotta run, Sammy, it’ll be because Cas didn’t make it. Get your head together. Look, he’s back on his feet!”

“He’s hurt,” Sam breathed again, but he went still in Dean’s grasp.

Castiel was, in fact, standing. He was speaking without pause, casting, Sam guessed, and gesturing back at the dark figures he was blocking from the house. Sam and Dean both gasped as two of the intruders were suddenly set upon by throngs of snakes, seemingly from nowhere. The snakes covered the bodies so completely that nothing of them could be seen until moments later when black smoke coughed out of the writhing mass, only to be caught in the funnel and ripped apart.

When one demon rushed the house, Dean and Sam gripped their weapons tightly, but the creature was caught by a sudden mass of thorned branches from the roses which had seemed so innocuous just yesterday. Before their eyes, the demon was shredded to bloody ribbons by the angry plant, and its black smoke was also caught and obliterated.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered. “Don’t piss off the nerd witches.”

Castiel himself was literally tangling with two others, using the vines he had somehow sprouted, and tossing them toward the oaks, who battered them mercilessly with strong limbs. The blond female who had thrown the witch to the side whipped around to see Castiel dispose of her comrades, and she actually grabbed hold of one of the two remaining to use as a shield when Castiel tossed a bolt of energy her way. The unfortunate male demon screamed as ivies took root in his flesh and grew from inside until the black smoke surrendered.

Through it all, the last remaining male demon seemed to be smirking. Sam swallowed hard. “That’s him. Dean, that’s him. That’s Azazel.”

“Cas!” Dean shouted suddenly.

Sam whirled around to see his lover fly from his feet and land hard on his side. The blond was reaching out toward him, holding him with an invisible force, and Sam could see the incredible pain in his eyes.

“No,” he breathed voicelessly. “No!”

Before Dean could stop him, he tore from the house in a sprint, firing his gun several times at the demon holding his witch. He could hear Dean behind him, firing his own weapon, cursing and threatening. But long before he could reach Castiel or the demon hurting him, a smiling face with bright yellow eyes appeared before him. He stopped so suddenly that he lost his footing and fell. The gun flew from his hands, but that hardly mattered, since it had done exactly nothing to damage these demons. He could only stare in horror as Azazel closed his fist and raised Dean into the air behind him.

“Stop!” he screamed. “Stop! Don’t hurt them! Stop hurting them! What do you want from me?”

Castiel’s deep voice shook with pain and effort, as though he was being choked. “Sam, no! Run! Sam, just-“

“Sammy!” Dean cried out with the same hoarse gasp. “Go!”

“No!” Sam shot to his feet again, and pushed Azazel as hard as he could with his bare hands. To everyone’s surprise, the yellow-eyed demon stumbled, and he lost his grip on Dean, who fell to the ground in a crash.

“Father?” the last of the entourage called in shock.

Azazel righted himself with a laugh. “Do you see, Meg? Do you see why he’s the one?”

Meg shrugged. “He’s the one. Who am I to guess why? Do you want me to kill the witch?”

“It’s because of his anger,” Azazel hissed without answering. “Because he’s full of so much promise! He’s one hundred percent pure power.”

Sam watched with suspicion. “I said, what do you want with me?”

“Time to meet your destiny, Sammy boy. You know how hard it was to find you? Warded from all the creepiest and crawliest things of Hell. But here we are. And you are going to take your throne. Our King will take you as vessel and you’ll rule as the Boy King of Hell, and raise us all to seize Earth and Heaven!” He sneered. “But to make sure you don’t get lost again, I’m going to go ahead and take custody right now.”

“What are you-“

But before he could finish, the strangest sensation filled him. It felt like he was being shoved aside in his own mind, sent flying against his own skull like a concussion, separated from his own muscle. He watched his brother’s heart break while someone else was peering out from his eyes.

“Sammy! You son of a bitch! What did you do to my brother!” he screamed.

Meg was cackling. “Same thing Lucifer is going to do with him. He’s taken possession of what was promised to us from the beginning. Do I kill the witch and Michael’s sword, Father?”

“Kill them both. With pain appropriate to how much trouble they made this endeavor from the beginning.”

The smile on Meg’s face was terrifying. She took a step toward Castiel, still lying prone on the ground, still struggling to breathe.

The snakes and plants had receded, watching for an opening but unable to assist. Dean was shouting for attention, threatening and spitting insults, trying unsuccessfully to draw Meg’s fire from Castiel.

Part of Sam smiled softly.

His big brother, always looking out for him, was using what must be his last minutes of life to try to save the man Sam loved. Castiel was their best chance, Dean figured, and that was reason enough to launch this fruitless effort to keep him alive. And Dean would ever put himself between a civilian and a monster; it was his job. But Sam knew that it was mostly because Dean had promised Sam.

Well, Sam had promised him too.

“Get out,” he heard himself growl darkly.

He could feel the jerk, the shocked little movement inside his own body. He felt his own lips move to speak again. “Oh, hello, Sam. You must think this is a friendly invitation rather than a coup. That’s adorable.”

“You have one last chance.”

He could smell the tiny tendril of fear burning in his own throat. “You don’t have access to any of your powers. You’re an infant. Meg, kill them.”

Sam gathered his will to him, his stubborn, unfailing will, and grabbed hold of his own fists. “Access to what powers, Azazel?” he muttered. “If you’re so sure, you won’t mind me trying them out.”

The thunderous world around him went quiet as he focused all his strength and will on moving his own hands to reach toward Meg as he had seen her do to Castiel, as Azazel had done to Dean.

Shock crashed over the blond demon, and she grasped at her own throat. “Father?” she croaked.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Azazel shouted from Sam’s lips. “You have no power yet!”

Sam forced his head to turn, to allow him to see Dean’s face. It was all he needed. He ground his teeth and gave a mighty yank with his fist, and Meg screamed until black smoke shot from her mouth. Sam began the exorcism, continuing even as the demons shrieked and Dean yelled for Sam to stop, that they didn’t know what it would do to him if he continued.

The Meg demon scorched through the ground, and her body dropped lifeless.

Castiel coughed, and struggled to his feet. Dean did the same.

Azazel’s laugh was nearly hysterical. “Can’t exorcise me from inside you, kiddo! Can’t hurt me without hurting you! And neither can they!”

Dean had been barreling forward, but now he stopped. Doubt and dread came over him. “Sam? What’s the play?”

Sam felt power surging through him. He suddenly knew exactly what Castiel had felt when given access to his own strength. But Sam’s was more. It was better, stronger. It was so much more!

He was in control now, and Azazel was simply fuel to be burned. He was metabolizing the demon somehow, and the feeling was like nothing Sam had ever known.

“Sam?” Castiel was stumbling toward him. He had fear in his eyes, and a dagger Sam had not seen before in his hands. “Sam, we have to find a way to help you.”

“No,” he heard himself saying. “No, this is incredible. This is...Cas, you think you know power, but it’s nothing like this. I’m more powerful than you. More than Azazel too. I can feel it. I know now! This is the destiny they were talking about! Cas...Dean, I can save the world like this!”

Dean was frowning severely. “Cas? What’s he talking about? How do we get the demon out? How do we know if that’s Sam talking?”

He laughed. “It’s me, man! Dean, you don’t understand what this feels like! I know what he knows now! It’s like I’m possessing him instead of the other way around! This is what I was meant to be! This is what I was made for!”

Grief clouded Castiel’s blue eyes. “Dean, stand behind me, please. He isn’t himself.”

“Cas, what’s going on? This is my brother! We have to-“

“Stop!” Sam shouted. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here! I can hear you both! I’m some kind of infernal being!”

Dean took another step toward him, but Sam swiped the air between them, and tossed the man to the ground again.

“Don’t get in my way, Dean. You don’t understand. You never understood me. His blood-It’s his blood! It’s in me. It’s grabbing hold of him, and I can control it!”

“Sam, stand down, little brother. He’s messing with your head!”

Sam’s nostrils flared with fury. “The one who has always messed with my head is you.” He tossed Dean aside when he tried to stand again. “But you! Cas, you understand, don’t you? With this power, we could do anything! I can save the world!”

Castiel nodded slowly. He held the dagger close to his side. “Sam, I do understand. I know what it’s like to have a rush of power. That’s what my magic feels like, when the universe accepts me and lets me borrow from it. But, Sam, this power...It comes from an evil source.”

“I’m not going to let it hurt anyone! Don’t you see-“

“You’ve already used it to hurt someone, Sam. Your brother. He’s got no protection from your attacks.”

“He’s trying to stop me!”

“I’m trying to stop Azazel from screwing with your brain!” Dean argued.

“Sam? You have to let me help you. You can’t allow a demon to use you, to turn you into something else. This is what we’ve been fighting, Sam. This is what he wants.”

Sam began to laugh again. “He’s terrified! I can feel him! Clawing to be let out! Cas, I know now, demons and ghosts and monsters, it’s all real! Just like my dad said! Now I can be strong enough to fight them!”

His lover took a deep breath. “Sam, spirits are real too. And though they experience the world very differently from us, they are not inherently bad. But they’re afraid right now too. I can feel them. Maybe you frighten the demon, but did you hear them? You were meant for Lucifer! The devil himself! If we don’t save you, you could be vulnerable to him! And the spirits believe you will destroy everything. That you will be like Death.”

For the first time since the wave of power came over him, Sam felt doubt creeping in. “I can protect you both like this. You two would never have to protect me again. I can be the one looking out for you!”

Dean approached very slowly, with his empty hands up. “I want my brother back. Whatever this is, it’s wrong. You gotta believe us, man. You can’t see it, but...Sammy, your eyes. They’re yellow.”

Strangling fear rose in him suddenly. Yellow eyes. It was what his father had hunted their whole lives. It was what they had learned to hate and fear since before Sam could remember. He was becoming that thing. “How-how do I stop?”

Castiel sighed with relief, and let the dagger fall to the ground.

“Just let go, little brother.” Dean took his hand. “It’s okay. Just let it go.”

Expelling a demon felt a lot like drowning while holding himself under the water. But when the smoke had pulsed out of him, he dropped to his knees and took a deep, clean breath.

Dean dropped with him, braced him with steady, strong hands.

Castiel sneered, and spat out several phrases in a language Sam couldn’t identify, and the black smoke exploded into a million puffs in the air. At last, everything around them was still and quiet. The plants seemed to never have even moved, and Sam could see no signs of the snakes. Trees with broken limbs and blood on rose thorns were the only evidence remaining, aside from the small circle burned in the grass nearby.

Sam knew Dean was talking, but he couldn’t hear any longer. He closed his eyes, hoped they were the right color, and faded into darkness.

Chapter Text

The last spell Castiel set into motion before collapsing into a hard sleep for two days was what he referred to as coaxing a healing rain for his friends outside. Dean had to admit that something about the storm seemed to be calming, like it was slowing everything around them and cleansing everything it touched. He watched it wash the Impala outside and it was meditative for him somehow.

Dean was no nurse, but he had been a pretty decent big brother, and he had taken care of both Sam and John for most of his life. So finding himself caring for Sam and Castiel now was weirdly okay with him. Better than okay. It felt good to be able to do this for his kid brother. He missed John every day, but he felt hollow without Sam. Being his caretaker now, and that of the kid’s badass, nerdy boyfriend, felt right. Besides, he had some healing to do himself before he could hit the road again.

So he watched the rain, watched some sports on television, helped himself to the hard cider in the refrigerator, and checked on the two recovering men obsessively.

Sam awoke first, and had cried while asking Dean to forgive him. Dean waved this away. They were good. No matter what, he and Sam would always be good. Then the kid had turned his attention to Castiel.

Watching the devotion with which Sam tended to his lover filled Dean with an unexpected bout of pride. He couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Sam had learned some of that from him.

***

Castiel blinked very slowly, like a cat. Sam was lying beside him in the bed. He smiled at his witch. “Hey.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“How do you feel?”

Castiel frowned a little as he did a self-assessment. “I ache all over. What happened?”

Sam watched him. “What do you remember?”

It took only a moment for those blue eyes to widen. Castiel raised himself to his elbow. “Sam!” He reached for Sam’s face in an insistent, desperate touch. “Are you-are you Sam?”

Guilt simmered in his chest, but he nodded. “I’m so sorry, Cas. Yeah. It’s me. You and Dean, you talked me down. After so long worrying about what you might do with your power, Cas, the moment I had some myself-“

“Shh,” he whispered. “My love, you are safe now.”

“You’re safe from me,” Sam added bitterly.

Castiel continued as though he had not been interrupted. “Power, true power, takes years to harness properly. Years of study, years of self-discipline, years of painful dedication. Sam, you had it all thrust upon you without any preparation, and yet your only thoughts were to use it for good. That power was corrupt, my love, and it would have corrupted you from the inside. You had to give it up. It was power that was entirely antithetical to my own. Destruction instead of creation. I could feel it, like-like magnets meeting at the wrong poles, pushing us away from one another.”

Just the idea that something in Sam had made him a threat to Castiel, had made Castiel recoil from him, was closing his airway. It was difficult to breathe. “I never want to push you from me,” he gasped.

“No,” the witch agreed. His voice was hoarse, and Sam suddenly remembered the way he had been shouting his words while casting during the battle with Azazel’s demons. “Sam, we have always been drawn together. I’m grateful for that in ways I could never describe. Having a companion at all...but having you! Sam, I would give everything to keep that. I would give...everything.”

“I’m so sorry I scared you.” A tear slipped silently down his face.

“No, my love! Don’t you see? I would give everything for you. But you did. You gave up more power than I’ve ever felt before, for me. For me and your brother, Sam, you did that, because it was the right thing. Sam, for that time, you were more powerful than even Azazel. Something in you had its own dormant strength, and it wasn’t because of anything Azazel had done. It was one hundred percent pure Sam. That was why they sought you out. They wanted that strength hidden in you.”

Sam swallowed hard. “There were others,” he hissed. “Others that Azazel thought of as acceptable alternatives. But-but none of them...I know now what Azazel did, that I wasn’t the only one, but I was the favorite. He did exactly the same thing to each of us, but I was…” He huffed a laugh. “I was special somehow. And so he abandoned the others to seek me out. Before I gave up the power, I sent out a wave of warning, that you and Dean and this land, that it was under my protection. That if anyone else tried to hurt any of you, I would destroy everything I deemed a threat to what I love. I wasn’t their king as they wanted, but I was what would tear it all down. There will be no new king of hell. Anyone who wants that will have to go through me. And I could feel it, Cas. The fear. It was fear of me. Not of Azazel’s power. Me.”

Castiel nodded. “It’s dormant again. But I can feel it now. It radiates from you. But your own strength isn’t pushing me away, Sam. It isn’t corrupt like Azazel’s. It’s comforting. Protective, not destructive.”

“Not pushing you away?” He wanted to hear Castiel say it again. He wanted to know for sure.

His lover smiled at him happily. There was still pain and weariness there, but the blue eyes were bright with love and devotion. “No. Our powers are compatible with one another again. We align, like we always did before. Better than before.”

“You’ll recover, right?” Sam whispered. “Completely? What you did for me, it isn’t going to...You’ll get better?”

His witch touched his face again, gently this time. “I’m stronger every minute I’m with you. Give me time, give me your love, and I will be battle-ready again soon.”

Sam smiled shakily. “Let’s hope you don’t have to be.”

Castiel shrugged, and lay back down beside him. “If ever there is a threat against you, Sam, I will put myself between it and you. And if there is never a supernatural threat again, I will be ready for anything mundane life throws at you too. You’re my everything, Sam. My power comes from the grace of the universe. So far as I can tell, that means it comes from you, because that’s what you are to me. Everything.”

As Castiel’s eyes closed again, Sam combed his fingers through his lover’s dark hair with constance. He felt the man sink into sleep beside him. There was silver in Castiel’s hair which Sam had never noticed before, just around his temples. Sam smiled at it. He had found a few grays on his own head over the last year, and he had seen that his brother was developing crinkles around his eyes. They weren’t old yet, not even close. But they were entering a new phase of life which brought more confidence, more patience, more forgiveness.

This adventure was over, but there would be others. The three of them would face the world with strength among them, each determined to protect the other two, and fight for what was good. Sam had seen it, in his head, in a vision. He wouldn’t bother either of them with that now. Let them all rest up. There was time for now. Soon, there would be work to do, work which could only be done by the three of them. For now, let them rest.

***

“You put meat in this one, right?”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow. “Taste it. If you like it, good. If not, you can starve.”

Sam snickered. “It’s so nice that you two have learned to communicate so well.”

The witch hummed irritably. They all knew he would cook something else for Dean if the man wasn’t satisfied, but he was determined to at least make him try it. He and Sam liked this dish, and Sam was the one recovering from his ordeal. Dean could get over it. Sam needed his veggies.

“Like staying with Sophia and Dorothy.”

Castiel watched Sam’s handsome face twist. “What, the Golden-“

“You’re Dorothy,” Dean snapped.

The witch took a slow breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand that reference.”

Sam began to laugh, and finally Dean did too. As it turned out, most of the time Patrick had taken from Castiel was time spent watching television over his life. Castiel had been cleaned of nearly every pop culture reference he had ever known. Sam had been the one to realize it, when he had referenced Monty Python, and Castiel had stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Now it was like Dean was trying to come up with every reference, popular or obscure, to test him, and ultimately to laugh at his blank expression. Sam had promised to rectify the situation by reintroducing him to the Star Wars and DC universes, and Dean had announced that a Star Trek binge would begin that very night. Castiel had to assume they knew what they were doing.

While the brothers bantered noisily inside, Castiel slipped out of the house for a few minutes of fresh air. He had always been introverted, and Dean sometimes felt like a crowd by himself. He liked Dean. He really did, now that he was able to get to know him. He was even planning to talk to Sam about making their house something of a home base for Dean to operate his hunting adventures out of. It made sense, and Dean made Sam so happy.

Just for a few minutes, though, Castiel needed time alone in his land.

“Thank you again for your protection, for your sacrifices, my friends,” the witch whispered to the willows, who would pass the message along dutifully before falling back to sleep. “Thank you for aiding me against evil. Thank you for trusting me that our Sam is good, that his brother is too. Thank you for siding with me when I thought the spirits might not. You’ve helped save the world, and I’m so proud of you for that.”

The only response was a rustle from his roses.

He smiled happily. “Yes, my friends,” he agreed. “Some things are worth fighting for.”