[Fic] - The Day the Whole World Went Away, part 4
After Dean leaves, Sam feels empty, useless. Flopping onto the bed, he opens his laptop, then proceeds to find little information of any use. Lucifer mocks him occasionally from the corner of the room. He seems to be curtailing his efforts, though, singing hymns off-key and changing words so the praises become blasphemy.
This Lucifer seems nothing like the archangel who had used him as a vessel. He prattles on constantly, dredging up anything and everything Sam knows. If Lucifer didn't occasionally supply odd tidbits of information that Sam had never learned, he'd think this was an illusion invented entirely by his own mind.
"-way is to get an aqueous solution of sodium borate - that's a type of salt, by the way, an ionic salt, not table-"
He doesn't want to interact with Lucifer since it only seems to urge the archangel on, but this particular lecture seems even more inane than usual. "I know what salt is."
Lucifer snorts. "Rude much? As I was saying, not table salt. Anyway, the solution forces an oxidation state change - kind of like holy water does with demons, only less metaphysical, which I guess wouldn't actually be oxidation so much as-" Lucifer sweeps his hands through the air as though he's wiping something aside "-beside the point. Really, the best way to fight off the leviathans is to use-"
"Borax," Castiel says.
Sam blinks in surprise at the angel's sudden appearance, and then he shakes his head. "What?"
"We need to find borax," he explains, taking a step closer. "It's the most effective way to fight off-"
"-the leviathans," Sam finishes, and Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning. "That's not exactly common knowledge. How did you...?"
"I- well- it's not important," Sam says, standing up and moving closer to Castiel. "You're looking much better."
"I went to take a dust bath in Searles Lake. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Borax nullifies the effects of the leviathan's blood."
Sam tries to erase the image of the angel rolling around and flapping his wings in the powdered minerals like a bird from his mind, and Lucifer giggles. The hunter glares at him, and Lucifer grins back.
His curious eyes follows Sam's gaze, and Castiel's frown deepens. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine." He taps his temple, then indicates to Lucifer. "Just, you know, crazy. Remember?"
Castiel's expression softens. "Sam, I'm so-"
"Don't. Just... don't," Sam orders, bringing a hand up to stop the angel. He reaches out to clasp Castiel's shoulder. He hadn't intended to cast any blame, but he doesn’t have a good handle on this situation. "Dean is worried about you."
Castiel looks away, ashamed. "He just wouldn't stop... touching me. The leviathans - we really should go find the one that escaped."
"My Father cast the leviathans into purgatory because they enjoyed murdering His angels," Lucifer breaks in, chuckling. He sobers up quickly though. "If you could see what your angel really looks like right now, you'd weep." Then he shrugs. "More so than you usually do, you big baby. Wait, is there a term for baby mooses? Meeses?"
"Moose," Sam corrects automatically, then the other words sink in. "Wait, what?"
"Kind of makes you wonder why God would make monsters capable of devouringthe earth down to nothing, that can destroy his own favorite creations so easily - favorites at the time, of course," Lucifer says, tapping a finger against his chin. "Maybe he didn't. Create them, I mean. One has to wonder."
Not even Lucifer would speak against his Father like that. This Lucifer is much too confusing for Sam to parse out, but he glances at Castiel anyway. The other angel seems fine now - concerned and wary, considering Sam's behavior, but fine.
"His real form, dumbass. Have you ever seen what human flesh looks like when eaten away by acid?" Lucifer says, tossing his hand toward Castiel. "Did you know he and Dean have a thing for each other?"
Sam glances back at Castiel, and he inhales sharply at what he sees. Black liquid drips from the angel's ears, traces along beneath his skin like blood in his veins. He closes his eyes when Castiel says his name.
"I wouldn't call it blood. The leviathans aren't so much alive like you or, well... me. I've seen angels drenched in the stuff, screaming as it burns them away. Watching that is not a fun experience, let me tell you."
Sam’s eyes fly open at the words. He chokes as Lucifer wraps his arms around the other angel's shoulders. Castiel willingly settles back into the embrace of his sibling.
"You didn't answer my question, Sam," Lucifer chides, his hand closing around Castiel's throat. He squeezes, and Castiel doesn't struggle, even as his eyes turn black when the capillaries there finally burst.
He hears Castiel call his name again, but Castiel is standing right there, a few feet away, silent and motionless within Lucifer's grasp. Sam feels a strong, tangible hand grab his, and the awful figures blur out of focus. He gasps in surprise, and the touch abruptly withdraws.
The archangel presses his a hand over Castiel's heart and his fingers disappear, sinking into the vessel's chest. Castiel's head drops back to Lucifer's shoulder, his mouth falling open and his eyes flashing a brilliant blue as his grace is pulled out. It clings to the body, as though trying to find a way back to Castiel, then he starts violently as Lucifer severs the remaining threads with a brutal jerk that rips it all loose.
"Wait," Sam whispers, not sure if he's directing the word at the archangel or calling back that fleeting yet substantial touch.
Those fingers wrap around his wrist again, but this time the image flickers only briefly. Castiel's head snaps up, but he's not Castiel anymore, grinning garishly and twitching as myriad leviathans writhe beneath the surface of his flesh. Tendrils of grace twine around Lucifer's fingers as he holds it captive in the palm of his hand, and he leers at Sam.
A whimper breaks from Sam's throat. He knows this isn't actually happening, but sometimes his reality starts to crumble, and it's hard for him to snap himself out of these nightmares. "Again, Cas. Do that ag-"
Hands frame his face, sending static dancing across the ugly vision, and the real Castiel is standing right up in Sam's personal space with a worrisome expression upon his face. He's determined - about what, Sam doesn't know, but he's about to step away when Castiel presses a kiss to his brow.
A hot wind sweeps through his soul, finding the torn edges and stitching them back together again. The tempest within him turns cool and crisp, a benediction to soothe him as Castiel's grace withdraws. When Sam glances up, the hallucinations fracture, becoming flat and dimensionless with long, spiraling lines that spread like spider webs across their bodies. Then, they explode into glittering shards of light.
"I am truly sorry," Castiel says, his hands sliding to Sam's chest for support; he makes as though to push away, but Sam grabs Castiel's wrists gently and holds him in place. There's an honesty in Castiel's words that echo back to Sam with every beat of his heart, perceptible only because of that short, sweet contact between grace and soul.
The angel looks ashen and haggard, and for that, Sam feels guilty. While he appreciates the help, he hadn't asked for it - never does, because he knows that sometimes it just won't do any good. First Dean and now Castiel - they seem too willing to go to exhaustive lengths, only taking short timeouts when the stress finally makes them snap. Sam sighs. "Cas-"
The angel crumples and Sam scrambles to catch him. Castiel is much heavier than he looks, which sends Sam tripping backwards over his own feet. He lands on the bed, narrowly missing his laptop, with Castiel passed out cold, completely deadweight in Sam's arms.
"Cas?" The hunter shakes the unmoving form draped across him. He gets no answer. "Castiel? Damn it...."
Who knows how long Dean will be gone, or what's wrong with Castiel. Sam hopes the angel just needs some sleep to recover his strength. He nudges his computer out of the way, then hauls
Castiel toward the head of the bed, settling back against the pillows, and too tired, at this point, to bother with the blankets.
------
He wakes up around dawn, then hears a knock at the door. Dean, most likely. Sam tries to slide out from Castiel, but the angel shifts restlessly against him so he stays put.
Not surprisingly, he and Dean get into an argument without saying a thing, but Sam brushes it off. Something else has happened, he just knows it, but Dean is doing a remarkable job of keeping it to himself despite the range of emotions that flicker across his face. They promise to deal with it later.
------
"Dean, how do you forget that the King of Hell just popped into your car and-"
"I've been preoccupied!" Dean says, pointing between Sam and Castiel.
"But the other leviathan is dead?"
"Yeah...."
"Good."
"Good? There's nothing good about it, Sam. Well, the part where another leviathan is dead is, sure, but when the King of Hell just pops into your car after taking responsibility for your own business? That tends to come with strings attached!"
"Is this why you've been so jumpy? I mean yeah, you should've told me sooner but-" he shrugs.
Dean eyes him for a moment. "That's part of it. Look, we'll get to it when Cas wakes up. He's a part of this too, and we shouldn't go forming opinions about things we know little about," Dean grumps.
Sam nods carefully, watching his brother for signs that he's really a shapeshifter, or possibly under some sort of spell that makes him more reasonable and agreeable against his will. "Okay."
"...so, why's he laid out in bed?"
"Well, after you left, Lucifer had been nagging at me - nothing too serious - but when Cas blipped back in, well-" Sam shudders at the memory "-things got pretty bad, and he... did something."
"What do you mean?"
Shaking his head, Sam glances back to where Castiel continues to sleep. "I don't know. It's kind of like like what Death did? Less like a wall and more like my soul has been glued back together."
"And you haven't seen any... weird stuff since?"
"Depends on your definition of weird stuff, Dean," Sam says, a small smile gracing his lips. "No hell baggage though."
Dean's gaze lands on Castiel as well, his face pinched and angry.
"Dean-"
"This was the two of you. I ain't sleeping on the couch."
------
Days pass without Castiel waking, and Dean and Sam decide to stick around the place instead since moving around with an unconscious angel would leave them vulnerable to attack. If either of the Winchesters leaves for very long, Castiel tosses and turns.
Dean hadn't been serious, and they've been taking turns on the couch. It's Sam's turn, and his third night. Occasionally, the motels they stay in will have a decent sized couch, but this one barely counts as a loveseat, and he's just too tall to sleep on it. Sam gives up on it.
He kicks off the blankets and grabs his pillow, determined to get some decent sleep. It's not like he and Dean haven't ever shared a bed before.
But Dean is taking up all the space, sprawled across the mattress like a giant, freckled starfish, meaning his brother is in a kicking mood tonight. The little couch would provide Sam with better rest.
Then, Castiel shifts, rolling onto his side as though he's reading Sam's mind despite being asleep. It's not like Sam hasn't ever shared a bed with Castiel either, even if it was just the one time and the angel was seemingly unaware....
Castiel is smaller than Dean anyway, and Sam doesn't think the angel will mind, given the circumstances. He gets into the bed, turning onto his side and faced toward the wall, leaving a space between them just in case Castiel does mind. The beds aren't that big and-
A warm back shoves in against his, ruining the need for his internal rationalization. He just hopes Castiel doesn't sleep-smite.
------
Sam wakes the next morning to find bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. He feels refreshed for the first time in way too long. He's also warm and cozy, considering Castiel is curled along his side, laying half across the hunter. His chin presses into Sam's shoulder, which should be uncomfortable but isn't. None of this is.
A scraping sound draws his attention to the other side of the room.
Dean is sitting at the table by the window, his arms fold across the top and his head tilted to one side, rested against an elbow. The cup of coffee nearby seems forgotten as he watches them, or rather, kind of looks through them, the corner of his lips turning up into a tiny little smile.
When he realizes Sam is looking back, he sits up and wraps his his hands around the mug, his gaze darting over to something outside the window.
Suddenly, Castiel sits up, and Dean startles, nearly spilling his coffee everywhere. "Dude, Cas, you've been asleep for nearly-"
"-a week. Yes, I know." Castiel frowns.
"How do you...?"
Sam rolls his eyes, and so does Castiel, if the tone of his voice is anything to go by. "Much like you know after sleeping that the next morning is the next morning. I'm just more aware of the passage of time than humans- well, you."
Dean gapes, then his eyes narrow as he snaps, "Yeah, okay. So what's going on with Sammy now?"
The angel's fingers brush against his temple as Sam pulls himself upright, and he feels the touch of grace against his soul. Castiel looks crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't completely succeed."
"In what? And, please, stop apologizing, Cas," sighs Sam.
"I tried to mend your soul, but apparently I'm not strong enough. It's not permanent."
"All right," Sam starts but Dean speaks over him, "Hold on, hold on. Why exactly did that put you out of commission - for a week, no less?"
"I didn't think it would. I didn't think I'd expend so much-"
"Energy?" Dean fills in, then his eyes widen. "Your grace?"
"For all intents and purposes, it's the same-"
"I don't think you did think about it, Cas." Dean cuts in. "I'm willing to bet you acted without thinking at all. Which you-" he slaps his hand against the table "-damn it, learned from us."
"Dean, I may have been fulfilling what I thought to be God's will before, but I'm not some impressionable child. I'm millions of years old, and I act of my own conscious volition, then and now," Castiel reminds, his tone stern. "Besides, Sam asked for help."
"That's not- I mean-" Sam stutters out as he rounds on Castiel, feeling guilty all over again. He can feel Dean's eyes turn to him, gauging him. "I was fine when you left, Dean!"
"And we are all fine for the time being," Castiel adds.
Crossing his arms in irritation does nothing to erase the look of fear hiding in Dean's eyes. "That's not the point!"
"What is the point?" Cas asks, his frustration building. "Dean, I'm not even sure what we're arguing about anymore."
"Whatever," Dean snaps, throwing his hands up in defeat. He rises, then, grabbing his packed bag, strides toward the door.
Sam tries, "Dean-"
"Bobby called. Come on, we've got stuff to take care of. More leviathans," he says, leveling a heavy look at Castiel.
"Don't we need-" Sam calls after but Dean storms out, slamming the door behind him. This had gone downhill so quickly. "What the hell just happened...?"