#samcasdean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostwinchesters · 6 years

Text

lost in the in-between, or so it seems // i'm out of control

@sahwen asked: “That’s it. If you throw up on more time we’re going to the hospital.” with sam and cas? platonic or romantic, either is good!

anonymous asked: “If you didn’t just blink I would’ve sworn you were dead, that’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!” w whoever ?? i rlly like that prompt sldkfjlskf

im allegedly still alive yo

it’s s8 trials!sam + samcasdean but like,, vv queer platonic which i fuckin love okay. he’s doing terrible both physically and mentally and dean and cas are desperately trying to take care of him and obviously there’s some vomiting so like,,,,, , just a warning my dudes xoxo

ao3

Sam is sitting huddled at one of the library tables, chilled despite the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the burning heat of his feverish body. He’s clutching a bloody tissue in one hand in case he needs to cough up his lungs again, but the other hand is methodically flipping pages and scrolling through his laptop. Maybe he should sleep.

Maybe he should die.

Dean is sitting in the war room, doing G-d only knows what on his laptop, but he keeps glancing at Sam every few minutes—if not every few seconds— to make sure he’s okay. Or at the very least not collapsing. He’s probably also hoping that Sam will eat a little more than one g-ddamn bite of the grilled cheese sandwich he’d brought him two hours ago for dinner. And Sam wants to, for Dean if not for himself, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The smell and the sight itself makes his stomach turn a little, and he can’t.

Sam sees Castiel come into the war room and talk quietly to Dean out of the corner of his eye, and that probably means they’re both gonna come in here and try to take care of him. It’s sweet, but Sam doesn’t even deserve it.

And they’re both so worried about him. It makes him feel terrible, even though the rational part of his brain is telling him that it’s illogical. That they’re two grown people who can decide who or what they want to worry about. That, possibly, he even deserves the worry. The last one is the hardest to believe, and maybe it’s really not coming from the rational part of his brain.

Castiel and Dean are walking into the library, which means Sam was right.

“Yo, Sam, you gotta eat something, man.” Dean is staring at him, his jaw obviously clenched, trying to keep himself from going into full on Big Brother mode.

“If you didn’t just blink, I would’ve sworn you were dead, Samuel.” Castiel touches his shoulder gingerly, almost like he’s scared Sam is just gonna… shatter and turn to dust. “That’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!”

Sam knows how awful he looks. He’s refused to look in a mirror in over a week and every time he accidentally catches a glance he just wants to shrink into himself because he knows and it almost makes him feel ashamed because he can barely do the basics like brush his hair and wash his face. Shame and guilt are apparently his main emotions currently.

“I’m fi—” He starts coughing again and instead of letting them see the kleenex with the blood splotches on it and making them more worried, he coughs into his elbow, which is a mistake because he now has splatters of red on his pink flannel.

Dean’s whole face crashes with concern but he laughs shakily. “Oh, yeah, Sammy. Spitting blood out onto your clothes is totally fine.” Sam attempts a weak smile, and that breaks Dean completely because he’s kneeling next to Sam’s chair and holding his hand a little too tightly. “Sam, what the hell, just let us take care of you for once. Please.”

“You don’t have to, Dee. It’s okay.”

“Sammy…” Dean always complains about Sam’s puppy dog eyes, but Dean. G-d, Dean puts everything into his pleading when he deems it’s necessary.

Sam nods hesitantly, and Cas, who’s been standing there with his hand on Sam’s shoulder this whole time, helps him stand up. “You need sleep, but as Dean said, you should eat something first. Does… anything sound appealing?”

“Uh… Just not something greasy? I don’t… Actually whatever, I’ll just eat a little of whatever you give me.”

“Nuh-uh, Sammy. You’re telling us what you want, and you’re not gonna feel bad about it.” Dean is glaring at him, but it’s a… kind, concerned glare.

“Uhm… Not anything super greasy because it makes me feel kinda nauseous.” Sam notices Dean glance at the grilled cheese sandwich on the table and wince. “Maybe uhh… some fruits? Or something? Really it’s fi—” This time his “fine” gets interrupted by Cas kissing his cheek quickly instead of another coughing fit, which is a relief, really.

They help him to their room, the biggest bedroom in the bunker, where they have two beds pushed together so it’s big enough for the three of them. Dean follows Castiel out because “he wants to do something for Sam” despite Castiel’s protests.

Sam smiles and shakes his head slightly as they argue down the hall and let’s himself sink into the pillow. It’s soft and nice, and Sam is so tired, but he can’t sleep because 1) Dean and Cas want him to eat and 2) it’s hard for him to sleep alone right now. He can’t really do it when he’s feeling this shitty.

He glances down at his pink flannel and feels a flash of disappointment, which just adds to the feeling of despair and exhaustion, because it’s one of his favorite shirts and now it has blood on the sleeve.

“Cas fuckin’ kicked me out of the kitchen. Said I’d—” Sam looks up as Dean airquotes “—make it take longer.” He sits down on the bed next to Sam shaking his head. “I’m good at slicing fruits and shit. Hell, I make food for you all the time! I’m perfectly capable!”

Sam is trying to hide a grin, and Dean rolls his eyes at him. “Hey, it’s not funny!” He knows it’s more about Dean just wanting to be helpful than the actual cooking thing but it’s still amusing.

“It kinda is actually.”

Dean makes a face before his eyes slide down to Sam’s flannel. “You love that shirt…” He meets Sam’s gaze again. “I can get the blood out if you want…?” His eyes look hopeful and expectant and Sam nods.

“You’d do that?”

“Anything for my little brother.”

Sam winces as he sits up, and Dean gently unbuttons the front and gets it off Sam. “You maybe want a clean hoodie and sweats? Sleeping in jeans is bullshit.”

Sam sighs in exasperation but he appreciates it. “I… yeah, sure.”

Dean helps him tug the white shirt he was wearing under the flannel off and finds him a freshly washed sweater before getting him to his feet and trying to help him change out of his jeans even though Sam just shakes his head because he’s making it more complicated. Sam crashes back onto the bed, a little harder than he intended because his tiredness just made him drop. “Dude, be careful, dammit.” Dean pulls the blanket over Sam’s shoulder and presses his lips against his hair. “I’ll be back in a sec, and I swear I’m getting that blood out of your flannel. I’ve gotten blood out of so many clothes, I’m practically an expert.” He flashes him a grin and leaves with the shirt.

Castiel comes back a little after Dean leaves with a bowl of fruit salad on top of a tray. “Where’s Dean?”

“Washing my shirt since you shoved him out of the kitchen.”

Cas shakes his head with a dramatic eyeroll and sits down, putting the tray on Sam’s lap after he sits up against the headboard. “I hope this tastes good and won’t make you feel sick?”

“Thank you, Cas.”

“Of course.”

Sam’s too tired and wrecked to eat it all but he manages to swallow down more than half of it but it’s better than usual. He feels even more tired after Cas leaves to put the dishes away, turning off one of the bedside lights so it’s dimmer, but it’s a more content exhaustion now except for the uncomfortable churning in his stomach after actually eating again.

“Hey,” Dean whispers as he walks into the room and Sam squints his eyes open from where he was trying to fall asleep alone. “I got your flannel all cleaned up and it’s drying now.” Sam smiles softly in thanks. Dean strips down to his boxers and slips under the blankets.

“Dude, Dean, you don’t have to sleep yet. It’s barely nine.”

Dean grins his lopsided grin and curls up against Sam, his chest radiating welcome heat again Sam’s back through his sweater. “You sleep better with people and besides, I’m getting old and maybe I need to sleep more.” Sam can feel his lips twist into a smile against his neck and he shakes his head.

“Okay, old man.”

When Castiel comes to bed Sam pulls him as close as he can, feeling even colder than usual.

“G-d, you’re a fucking furnace, Sammy,” Dean whines but he doesn’t move away. “Like, more than usual. You okay, man?”

“I’m fine. My stomach feels a little weird but it’s okay.”

“Are you sure, Sam?” Castiel shifts against him and Sam nods.

“Yeah, really, I’m okay.”

Cas makes a noise like he’s not sure he believes him but neither of them say anything and Sam falls asleep for the first time in almost forty hours.

He wakes up to feeling straight up nauseous and he awkwardly clambers to his knees, almost elbowing Dean in the face and definitely kneeing Cas in the stomach.

“Sam-Sammy?” Dean mumbles, confused and half asleep. Castiel who wasn’t really asleep as so much as lying there with his eyes closed sits up and grabs Sam’s arm.

“Bathroom, G-d, fuck, I need to get to the bathroom.” He stumbles to his feet with Castiel still holding onto his arm and at this point Dean’s protective instinct has overridden his lack of consciousness and he’s off the bed.

“Sammy, what’s wrong?”

“I feel really sick, man, I don’t know.” Another wave of nausea hits him and he has to bite down on his tongue to keep from vomiting right here and now in the hallway. He pulls away from Castiel, somehow thinking that’ll help him get through the door to the bathroom quicker. Cas catches him as he drops to his knees in front of the toilet, barely pulling his hair away from his face before Sam throws up the little food he forced himself to swallow down.

Dean’s next to Sam and pushing away a few extra strands of hair from his sweaty forehead when he stops dry heaving. He groans and presses his forehead against the toilet seat. He feels exhausted, which is a normal feeling but it’s worse all of a sudden.

“Do you want some water?” Cas doesn’t even wait for a reply before leaving the bathroom and Sam mumbles a raspy thank you after him.

Dean rubs his back slowly, trying to help him relax. “Shh, it’s okay, Sammy. Just take some deep breaths.”

“G-d, Dean, I feel so sick.” Sam knows he sounds whiney but he can’t actually bring himself to care enough to stop.

“I know and I’m sorry,” Dean says quietly, still rythmically running his hand over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ll feel better here in a little bit, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Castiel comes back with the water and Sam gulps it down quicker than he should, his throat aching. He’s not sure whether it hurts more before, during, or after and for some reason he laughs; it’s a little high pitched and delirious. “It’s gonna come up again in a second.”

Dean gives him a concerned smile. “Jesus, okay.”

It takes closer to thirty seconds, but he vomits again, and by now both Castiel and Dean are on the tile, trying to soothe him by rubbing his back and keeping his hair out of his face. A hand presses against his hot forehead and he thinks it’s Castiel. “That’s it. If you throw up one more time, we’re going to the hospital.

“No, Cas, please. No—” He coughs. “Please don’t take me to the hospital. Please. They can’t do anything anyway.”

“Okay, shh, it’s okay. We won’t go then.” Castiel runs his fingers through Sam’s greasy hair gently. “It’s okay.”

Sam gives him a weak smile but it breaks into a another painful round of spitting absolutely nothing into the toilet bowl. “Could you… Could you get more water maybe?” He looks up at Cas pleadingly.

He ends up throwing that up too, but he’s slowly starting to feel a little less absolutely and completely horrible. Dean’s tugging on his shoulders and pulling him back against him and Sam just lets himself collapse against his chest. This time when he opens his mouth, it’s a tired fucking yawn.

“Hey, if you’re feeling okay enough to get up, you need to get to bed, big guy,” Dean whispers softly and Sam nods a little. Castiel grips his hand and they both help him back to their room after he washes his face by the sink.

Sam presses his face against Dean’s neck and he can feel the comforting thereness of Castiel against his back and he lets out a sigh of what might actually be contentedness.

lol validation welcome // come talk to me [peace sign]

#sam winchester #spnlittlebro #sam love club #sam whump #wincestiel #sam fic #jo writes #tfw #samcasdean #trials!sam #sick!sam #sam and mental health #s8 #what's up motherfuckers i wrote smth again #shout out to yngve bc he loves the Pink Shirt™#and huge shout out to judah for being super supportive thru this absolute writing drought

107 notes · View notes

honey-bri-books · 4 years

Text

Afraid of the Dark: SamCasDean

Un-related to any specific point in the series, but presumed to have happened after Cas and Dean have known each other a considerable length of time. SPN/Destiel fan fic. Fluff.

Characters created by Eric Kripke.

****

The Winchesters pull up in the Impala, just outside of an abandoned theater, which is now run-down and barely standing up in its decrepit state. Both Dean and Sam get out of the car and look up at the marquis, skeptically. Several letters are randomly stuck in a corner making up a mesh of black curves and criss-crosses, but just off-center and spelled out by the locals as a lame prank for the non-existent business owners read the “Movie Title” Are You Afraid of the Dark without the question mark, at the end. Dean makes a face.

DEAN: Didn’t know there was a movie that actually made it to the theater. I thought they just did a TV special thing...I remember seeing a commercial for it. You would’ve loved it, Sammy. Clowns and everything!

SAM: I don’t think they ever released a movie or that it played here, Dean. Probably some kids just joking around. Would’ve been smarter if they had thought to put up a warning that the place is haunted.

DEAN: And that the only way out is in a body bag, if you’re dumb enough to go inside...

SAM: Let’s be hopeful. No one’s reported any bodies turning up.

DEAN: Not yet, you mean.

Sam and Dean had been bombarded with messages that morning from other hunters and friends who were “in-the-know” that several disappearances had taken place within the past few months, since the closing of a local theater building, which had struggled to bring in an audience. The owners had just packed up and left, not leaving a note for anyone interested in taking up the building and re-vamping the theater for themselves. No one had even bothered to schedule a demolition of the premises, to open up a new mall or grocery store or apartment complex. It was left to collect dust and debris and according to recent rumors, kids from the local high-school and community college.

Amy, a friend of the Winchesters from a previous case, had claimed she was out for a run when she saw a few kids sneaking in, one of them wearing his boyfriend’s letter-head jacket. She wasn’t in the mood to go in after them and just continued on home, forgetting about them until noticing an article with their pictures highlighted. It read with the heading LOST in giant letters heading the article, and said they hadn’t shown up to school for several days, and that two of them were honor students and very reliable and responsible people. Amy had remembered that it was so cold outside when she was by the theater that she could see her own breath. Combined with so many cases being reported of missing people, all teenagers or young adults, Amy got a gut feeling and called Dean just as Sam was looking up the same story on his laptop.

Now, Dean and Sam open up the trunk of the impala and start to fill their guns with rock salt. Sam picks up a third. The most popular theory among the remaining hunters in the district, was that anyone who entered the building died and that their spirits remained to haunt the building, in the form of ghosts.

SAM: Do you think Cas will need one?

DEAN: I think he keeps one in the truck. Load that one anyway, just in case. Castiel arrives right at that moment, pulling up next to the impala. He gets out of the driver’s side and moves towards the Winchesters, wielding his own weapon, as Dean predicted. Thanks for coming. Usually, you’re too busy to even answer your phone. Castiel starts to protest but Dean slams the trunk down, nearly knocking Sam in the head, and cutting Castiel off.

SAM: Hey!! Careful! Then shaking his head, Please don’t tell me you two are still....

CASTIEL: [Tartly] Have either of you been inside of the building, yet? He sounds defeated and uncaring. He looks at Sam, a bit desperately. Sam just sighs, still upset from the night Castiel left the bunker. He had been in his room trying to read when he heard Dean yelling from the kitchen..

******

DEAN: Never mind about me, it’s YOU who we should be worrying about right now. Why can’t you ever look after yourself, for once!?!? For all of his concern, Sam didn't like the way Dean attempted to get through to Cas about his grace failing him, again. They had come back from a hunt that morning, Dean bleeding and battered, and Dean refused Castiel’s help. He argued that his injuries were minor, and would ignore Cas or walk away to avoid Castiel having to use his powers in order to heal him. Both he and Sam were afraid that if Castiel used them unnecessarily, that it would only be a matter of time before he lay dying before them both.

Their concern was well-founded. But finally, Castiel had had enough. Sam was walking down the hall with an armful of books, when Cas stormed past him and went up to Dean’s bedroom door. Sam didn’t have time to react when Castiel crashed into Dean’s room and crawled on top of him, on his bed. Sam ran to the door to see Dean struggling (pathetically) while Castiel put a hand to Dean’s forehead. With visible effort and strain, Castiel eyes began to glow, and light seemed to fill the room, as Castiel succeeded in healing Dean of his injuries...before passing out on top of him. When Castiel finally woke up, Dean let out a huge sigh of relief. He asked Castiel if he was alright...and then gave him the silent treatment for a week, before finally confronting him in the kitchen.

DEAN: It’s like you don’t even care if you die right in front of me. What were you thinking?!?! What kind of a person could ever do that to someone he cared about?! How would you feel if I cut myself up and bled to death, in order to save you?! Would you want that for me?! Dean had been on the verge of tears. Sam could hear his voice getting hoarse..

CASTIEL: [weakly] Dean, please....I didn’t have a choice...

DEAN: One day you’re gonna have to make a choice, and it’s gonna be the right one, next time. You should have let me die! In fact...you know what....I’m finally done! You don’t wanna give a damn about yourself, then that means I don’t have to either.

CASTIEL: I’m sorry. I wish...Dean, I couldn’t stand to see you hurt like that and not be able to do anything. I wouldn’t ever ...It...I’m not...I...

DEAN: Whatever, just get out. All the time I’ve wasted, wondering if you’re gonna get yourself killed...There’s only so much I can take. You feel like helping out with a case or two, I’ll give you a call, but until then...Good luck to you!

The next morning Sam had gone into Castiel’s room hoping to mediate the situation, but by that time, Castiel was gone.

******

Now, Sam could recognize the same tension between his brother and his friend as they faced each other for the first time in several weeks. Castiel appeared as if he were struggling to just stay standing. Dean can’t help but show concern on his face, looking Cas up and down.

SAM: Cas, are you sure you’re up to this? Are you, I mean...are you getting any better? Dean presses his lips together, not trusting himself to say anything. Castiel still avoids Dean’s gaze and tries to hide the fact that he’s swaying slightly.

CASTIEL: I’m fine. What do you need me to do?

Sam and Dean look at each other, and then they all look at the theater together. Castiel takes a step forward. He furrows his brows and tilts his head slightly.

CASTIEL: Dean, there are people in there.. Sam and Dean look at each other, confused.

DEAN: What do you mean? All of their last fight forgotten, Dean now feels hopeful. The missing teens had never been declared dead. They could still be alive...Castiel shakes his head.

CASTIEL: I’m not sure, but.... I sense we’re not the only living ones in the vicinity. That we’re not alone.. Without saying anything else, Castiel heads towards the theater. Sam and Dean follow after him and they all enter the building together.

Once inside the lobby, the three are enveloped in darkness, save for a glimmer of light coming from the front doors. The three decide to split up and each take a different level of the theater to explore.

*****

Sam finds himself in the basement. He can hear something leaking nearby and hopes to himself that it’s only water. With the little light from his flash light, Sam feels along the walls as he stumbles down the basement stairs. There are extra theater seats and old show posters underneath an old tarp. He thinks he’s alone when he hears someone sneeze behind him. Sam jumps and turns around to see eight different sets of eyes staring back at him. The missing teens are wearing the outfits they disappeared in, now dirty and torn, and with dirt and sweat covering their faces. Some hide behind their friends, not knowing who Sam is. Though pale and hollow-eyed Sam breathes a sigh of relief...They’re alive!

SAM: Hey! It’s okay, I’m here to help...Some of the kids start to relax, and then one of them starts to scream. Sam turns around to see an old man with a gun aimed at him. The girl who screamed starts crying and before Sam can even blink, a woman appears from behind the group of kids and grabs the girl by the hair, dragging her back against her with one hand, a butcher knife in the other....

*****

Castiel made his way down the aisle of the theater and to the stage. He had to use a flashlight now, since he had weakened considerably over the past several months.

Sam and Dean had expressed their concern for his failing grace on many occasions, and Castiel had always lied by saying he was ignorant of the cause. The truth was that an angel’s grace could be manipulated in its strength from Heaven’s Headquarters.

Awhile ago, a group of angels had threatened Castiel, ordering him to stop aiding the Winchesters and to ignore their calls for help. When Castiel refused, they had warned Castiel that his life was on the line and he would eventually drain of his grace and then finally die, if he didn’t change his ways. Castiel had of course ignored the threats, continuing to work and then live with the Winchesters at the bunker, before Dean ordered him to leave...

As Castiel crawls up onto the stage he struggles to make out the wings and the backdrop depicting a forest scene for whatever production last closed at the theater. There is a star drop, as well. Castiel doesn’t notice anything unusual. Just a lot of left over props and lights piled up back stage and old programs, covered in dust. He moves backstage and sees a door that must lead to the dressing rooms. Upon opening it, he finds himself in a darkened hallway. After walking down it for a few minutes Castiel stops. What was that noise? His flashlight had stopped working, so he left it back on the stage. He can’t see anything, but he knows he heard someone curse to his left. Suddenly, there is a sharp noise, like a door is slamming shut. Whatever made the sound, it was close. Without seeing it, Castiel turns and reaches out until he makes contact with a door handle.

Not thinking of the consequences, Castiel turns the handle and enters into the room. A pair of hands lock onto his arms and pulls him inside the room, slamming him against the wall. Castiel drops his gun...

******

Dean directs his flash light back and forth, unimpressed with the lack of bodies, the lack of clues, the lack of anything in this nothing hallway. Just a lot of dust and dark. There are several closed doors, but all of them have been locked up to now. Dean trudges on to the end of the hallway, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try the last door, and is surprised when it actually opens for him. Yeah right, he thinks. Dean walks inside, out of habit, not really expecting anything interesting....

DEAN: What the hell? The closet is full of weapons. Dean at first thinks that they are props used for the theater, but then gets closer and realizes it’s all real. Guns, machetes, pitch forks, a hatchet, and even rat poison! He sets down his own gun full of rock salt and reaches towards one of the machetes when his light flickers out. Dean curses and backs into the door, slamming it shut and dropping his flash light. He fumbles around on the ground looking for it.. I can’t see anything, it’s so damn dark!

All of a sudden, the door opens. Someone is directly behind Dean, standing above him. Dean reacts quickly, springing to his feet and turning to grab the dark figure by his arms, pulling him into the closet and slamming him against the wall. The person’s breathing is heavy and Dean realizes that he’s pressing himself up against his assailant, who struggles for a moment before stilling, his breath catching in his throat.

Then Dean realizes that he’s not threatened by his attacker, that he doesn't feel as if he’s in danger. The body in front of him is familiar, and...Dean leans his head forward against the other’s and the person pressed against the wall submits, pushing back slightly. Dean’s breathing becomes heavy as his grip tightens on Castiel who tilts his head back, so that Dean can feel the stubble on his chin brush against his lips.

Dean is afraid to say anything. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, right now. He lowers his mouth onto Castiel’s neck and traces kisses along it. When Castiel lets out a soft cry, Dean takes his face in his hands and kisses him roughly on the mouth. Castiel brings his hands up to Dean’s face and presses his body against him, as the lights to the closet and the hallway turn on. Neither hear Sam calling out to them from the hallway, or notice the sudden burst of light, at first...Their eyes are closed, and their lips are desperate for each other... Sam finds them in a closet full of weapons, in each other’s arms, crumpled in a heap on floor. Dean covering Castiel with kisses as Cas whimpers out “Sorry,..I’m...sorry...:”

*****

The old theater owners, Dale and Margaret Blanche, sit cuffed in the back seat of a police car. Once Old Lady Blanche had attempted to silence the crying girl, Dale had lowered his gun, letting his guard down and thinking they were in control. Sam kicked upwards into Dale’s nuts and retrieved his gun when he dropped it, howling in pain. Margaret had been distracted and another of the teen captives leapt at her ankle, biting as hard as he could. Margaret screamed and let the girl and the butcher knife go.

The other kids leapt into action and helped Sam to overcome and defeat the couple of criminals, weak as they were from being denied adequate food and sleeping quarters. By Sam’s orders, they helped find rope. Some helped in tying their captors up and dragging them both upstairs. Sam gave one of the hostages his cell phone to call the police, while he looked for a way to turn on the lights. Apparently, there was nothing wrong with the lights or the electicity, though they had been turned off since the theater’s closing. When Sam tried turning them all on, he had little to no problem. Apparently, the town had cared so little about the theater at that point, that no one had bothered to cut off electricity through to the building. The Blanches had just not wanted to let on that anyone was living there, and kept them off at all times.

When the theater closed, all had assumed that the couple had left the place for dead, but in fact they had both stayed hidden in the old theater, and lived off of killing cats, rats and all of the above, determined to stay. A nearby pond, spare candles, and other necessities had done the couple fine for resources...until local kids had spread a rumor that the building was haunted and had set off in pairs and groups to explore the place.

Finally, the couple decided to get back at everyone for ignoring their establishment in the first place, by kidnapping and torturing anyone who trespassed, taking away the town’s children in revenge for running their business to the ground. They had stored a closet full of weapons to use as a means to torture their victims and kept rat poison to permanently silence the ones who made too much of a racket.

Now, the surviving kids were split up among sobbing parents, paramedics and police officers, in front of the theater. One boy pulled Sam aside to thank him, for reminding them all of how capable they had always been in getting themselves out of their captors hands, and waking them from their stupor. He said he felt it had been in him to stand up for himself all the while, he just needed to see that if could be done and Sam making the first move is what made it happen.

******

Dean and Castiel sat on a nearby bench, watching the rescue take place. They hadn't said a word (and neither had Sam, thankfully) about what happened back in the closet, all night, though many hours had passed since then. Dean’s face is an unfeeling mask, and Cas is almost afraid to breath. Nothing had to be said to determine Castiel was going back to the bunker that night. Dean would ask Sam to drive Castiel’s truck while Cas rode shot gun to Dean in the impala.

Dean had wondered what he’d do when he saw Cas again, after their fight. He’d wondered if Castiel could forgive him for being such an asshole to him when they finally confronted each other in the kitchen. He worried that Castiel was much weaker than he’d let on earlier, and thought he knew for certain that things weren’t getting any better for the angel. And now...everything was so much worse than Dean could have ever imagined.

The darkness had acted as a veil, had tricked Dean into thinking they were safe, that they were completely alone, and maybe they could both feel happiness, pleasure, for just a moment..but something told him that somehow they had failed each other, back in that closet. To have opened his eyes and seen Castiel, trembling underneath him, surrounded by deadly weapons and blinding, accusing light, to see the tears in Castiel’s eyes... If the lights had stayed off until after they’d let go of each other, Dean wouldn’t have had to see it end...It wasn’t meant to last longer than a moment, but somehow...

CASTIEL: [Sadly] Are you afraid of the Dark.. Dean shakes his head from his thoughts, and looks at Castiel, worried. Castiel is looking up at the theater marquis, not really caring about it, but feeling one of them needed to say something to break the ice. Dean has never seen Castiel look so weak as he did at this moment. He fixes the expression on his face, trying to seem nonchalant.

DEAN: You know, there’s a movie I’ve been trying to get Sammy to watch with me. One of those new revivals. This one, I think, it’s from an old Nickelodeon program or whatever. Funny, right? Castiel nods. It hurts Dean to look at Cas when he’s this weak, this afraid. He’s in so much pain. What can I do to take it away? How can I save him?

A tear escapes from Castiel’s eye and Dean’s heart breaks in two. They were never going to talk about it. And Dean knew Castiel would never let him touch him like that, ever again. Dean wants nothing more than to take Castiel into his arms, and to hold him underneath the stars, to just be close to him in the dark..but instead he puts both hands in his pockets and waits for the police to leave, waits for Sam to signal that they should be heading home. Castiel has his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat. He leans into the back of the bench and turns his head away from Dean, knowing he can’t hold back his tears any longer.

CASTIEL: Dean..forgive me. I keep hurting you. I can’t stop.. He shuts his eyes, ashamed. Back in the theater, I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t...stop....I.... Biting his lip, Castiel can’t continue.

Dean knows that if he doesn’t get up and walk away, that his lips would find their way to Castiel’s again. He knew that the next time he put his hands on Castiel that he would never let go.

DEAN: I’ll wait in the car. When you’re ready, join me, and we’ll head on home. Sam is going to drive the truck. Then after a moment.. Don’t think that I’m ever letting you go after tonight. And don’t you dare think about using your powers again, until Sam and I can figure out what’s wrong. I won’t hear of it. I’ll trap you in a ring of holy oil before I let you go and get yourself killed. Hate me for the rest of my life. I don’t care. And don’t take too long, I’m beat... Dean ignores the small cry coming from Castiel and stands up, hesitating for a moment, before heading determinedly back towards the impala. Castiel covers his face with his hands, the darkness enveloping him like a never-ending nightmare...

The End...

#Castiel #Dean #CasDean #DeanCas #Sam #Destiel #Supernatural #Fan Fic #Fluff #Slash #SPN #SPN Fan Fiction #Winchester #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Are You Afraid of the Dark #Afraid of the Dark

5 notes · View notes