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Mrs. Butters, of all people, was the one to figure out Sam’s secret after he'd had to leave Thanksgiving dinner early to hide his coughing - and more importantly, the buttercups that were coming up with it. She tutted at him worriedly. “It’s just a spell, dear. Spells can be broken, if you just figure out who to kill or what to destroy or the appropriate counterspell. The thing is, you can’t figure this out on your own. Whoever cast this is good – whoever cast it didn’t want you to be able to solve it.” Her smile turned a bit smug. “Luckily for you, her spellwork doesn’t have any effect on my kind, and I worked with the Men of Letters. I’ve seen this many times before.”
“Yeah? What is it?” Sam stared at the flowers slowly piling up on his desk. “Don’t suppose you know how to break it?”
“Well… we’ll have to tell the others about it,” Mrs. Butters said as gently as she could, patting Sam’s arm. “You know I can’t leave the Bunker, and no one here would have done this to you. You’re family, and that means everything to them.”
Sam sighed. That was the problem. They were family. Sam was the sick freak who didn’t deserve to be a part of this family, but as long as he could keep it secret, he at least wouldn’t get himself kicked out. It would take a lot for Dean to tell Sam to get lost and lose his number, but finding out that his freak of a little brother was in love with him just might do it. Finding out that that wasn’t enough for him, that the freak had to be in love with his boyfriend too? That could put it over the top easily.
After the coughing fit passed, Sam looked miserably at Mrs. Butters. “You can’t tell them. If I die, they’ll find a way to get me back, and…” Then he noticed that he was too late. Mrs. Butters was gone.
Dean and Castiel listened to Mrs. Butters explain the situation. When she finished, she glared between them. “That boy is literally willing to die to keep this secret because he is so scared of being kicked out of the family over it. I don’t know what the two of you have done to him over the years that made him think that could happen, but he’s probably packing right now because he knows I’m telling you everything.”
Castiel stared, brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I know that many people believe that Dean and I are a romantic couple, but Sam, of all people? Does he really think I would get into a romantic relationship with one Winchester and agree to keep it a secret from the other? He knows how I feel about them keeping things from each other ‘in their best interests!’”
“This curse thingie,” Dean said slowly. “You said it’s meant as a means of dissuading the people who have watched one too many movies where persistence wins the girl and think that all a guy has to do to convince a girl to date him or sleep with him is to keep bothering her. I know Sam can take a no, and would be the first to throw hands with anyone else who couldn’t, so why the hell is he the one cursed? This my fault? I was kinda pushy with Glessie last month, but she seemed to be enjoying the pushiness instead of bothered by it.”
“She wouldn’t know how to cast such a difficult spell, either,” Castiel said. “But remember two weeks ago, when we needed help from the witch Callie Hampton and she was reluctant to help a Winchester? Sam was able to convince her to help, but she might have misinterpreted it.”
Dean stared blankly at Castiel. “Callie Hampton. The witch we needed help from who turned out to be working for the shifter all along. The witch I ganked because she was trying to protect the shifter.”
“Not all spells end with the witch’s death,” Mrs. Butters said. “So either you need to figure out her exact ritual, which would mean getting back to Oklahoma and finding her grimoire, or take the risk of letting Jack heal everything which could mean Sam forgetting the two of you, or…”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to know if there was someone I needed to gank after the two of us went and talked to Sammy and put him out of his misery,” he grumbled. “Callie would certainly fit. Sam got pushy, she thought he was coming onto her and figured this would get him to back off if she were right and wouldn’t hurt him if she were wrong, and was wrong again. Come on, Cas, let’s go.”
“What happened to all the angst? I believe the words ‘sick freak’ and ‘pervert’ have come up often in your prayers about it, and now…?”
“Now I know Sammy feels the same about me so at least he’s not gonna throw a punch if I say something, and I don’t give a shit about being a sick freak if he’s right there with me. I’m not a predator, he’s not doing this to make me happy or because he knows it’s what I want and I don’t exactly take it well when he tries to do his own thing, and in case you missed it? He’s fucking dying if I don’t tell him his feelings aren’t unrequited! You think I’m gonna let Sammy die because I’m too chickenshit to own up to this?” Castiel didn’t answer, so Dean walked out of the room. Stupid angel anyway.
Sam rolled his eyes when he opened the door for Dean and Castiel. “I told Mrs. Butters not to tell you about this. This is too big to settle by hitting me and moving on, right?”
“Hitting you is not happening,” Castiel said firmly. He reached out, gently brushing Sam’s hair back so that he could see his friend’s eyes. “Hitting on you will, but first, Sam, please explain. I can easily believe you’re aware of my feelings for Dean, but how could you ever believe that I would be in a romantic relationship with him without insisting that you be told?”
“Well… if you… I know you wouldn’t be happy about it, but Dean can be…” Sam stammered, cutting himself off. “Dean, you know I love you, but you can be pushy when you want something, and Cas and I usually end up going along with it.”
“Yeah, that’s something we should probably work on,” Dean admitted. He pulled Sam into a hug. “Sammy, I can easily understand why you’d rather die than admit to this, because we could bring you back without this stupid curse and you and me could go on living with these goddamn secrets and killing ourselves over wanting what we can’t have. Thing is? Turns out, we can have it. You, uh…” Dean turned to Castiel. “Dude, I’ve been doing my best to ignore your feelings for me, because I don’t return them. Always hoped you and Sam would figure shit out and get together, because I know you like him too and he does feel the same way about you, so it’s better for the both of you. I’m sorry, man, but…”
“I was aware,” Castiel said. “I can’t help how I feel, but I never meant to make you feel obligated to do anything about them. You can’t help how you don’t feel. I understand.”
Sam looked between them. “Wait, you’re not together?”
“No, we’re not,” Castiel said. “And Sam, I hope that you won’t think that is the only reason I want to be with you. Monogamy is an unnatural state for an angel. I am willing to agree to it if that is what you want, but I don’t expect it of you. If, knowing that your feelings for Dean are requited, you wish to be with him, I would not interfere with that or ask you to choose between us.”
“I’m okay with sharing you with Cas,” Dean said. “Others, I don’t know about, but Cas is one of us. He’s family. Hell, the two of you are coparenting a kid.”
“You, uh… wait, what?” Sam said, eloquent as ever. “What’s happening here?”
“You owe Mrs. Butters a thank you letter for telling us about your condition and your feelings, because Dean has already ganked the witch who did this, so this is your best hope for surviving,” Castiel said. “It’s about the only thing that could have pushed you and Dean to admit your desire for one another, or for me to believe that your forgiveness of me extends far enough to love me in this way.”
Mrs. Butters tutted from the doorway. “I’ll be giving the three of you some privacy to explore your new relationships, but I just wanted you to know that Sam’s going to be all right. I felt the spell break.”
“Wait!” Sam went after her, giving her a hug. “Thank you. You were right.”