The Damage Done, Part 2/2

[raise_a_glass]

Part 1

Castiel had thought it had been bad before. It was nothing compared to now. There was no respite. Ever. Lucifer never left him alone. He couldn’t, apparently struck with the same sickening and uncontrollable separation anxiety that Castiel was whenever they were apart. So he didn’t leave. They stayed in the same room, and Lucifer never left. Sometimes someone would come to the door, and hushed words would be exchanged, but Lucifer would always send them away. After this had happened several times, it dawned on Castiel that Lucifer was neglecting his war effort, whatever plans and activities he’d been pursuing towards Armageddon, and his underlings were not pleased. But Lucifer didn’t seem to care, his attention completely focused on Castiel.

All of Lucifer’s previous control was gone. His previous tortures had been calculated, exercises in his own amusement. Now they were all about his rage and obsession. Even as he cursed Castiel for their situation, still blaming him, his focus was also becoming increasingly… personal. He vacillated between rages where he’d beat Castiel to within an inch of his life and then beyond, reviving him to do it all over again, and fucking him into the mattress while whispering filthy declarations of ownership in his ear.

And Heaven help him, those claims on his very being struck a chord in him. He wanted to belong to Lucifer. He deserved whatever Lucifer wanted to do to him because he was his. The stun baton made more appearances. The knife, too. Even the cat o’ nine tails. Lucifer attacked him with those tools with a fervency that made the previous instances seem like child’s play. Sometimes he took him from the bed and strung him up from the ceiling in order to better reach every inch of his body and hurt him as badly as he could. And still somehow in some dark corner of his mind Castiel felt that it was right, that it was deserved, that he was Lucifer’s to do with as he pleased. He tried to tell himself that it was another part of the magic that was holding them together, but he still felt shamed to his core.

The days bled together, his constant pain and disorientation making it no easier to keep track of time than it had been when Lucifer had still been putting him out. If anything, Lucifer’s constant presence and attention made it even harder. He thought perhaps that at least a couple of weeks had passed.

He had feared losing his mind, but now it seemed that Lucifer was the one who was going crazy. The wild look in his eyes, in Sam’s eyes, whenever he looked at Castiel frightened him more than any of the horrible things he did to him.

Castiel wished for death, and even then a traitorous voice in his head whispered that his life was Lucifer’s and he had no right to want escape from it.

Lucifer started taking to fits of pacing between the rounds of rape and torture, agitated circuits of the room during which he muttered to himself. Castiel couldn’t even begin to imagine what might be going through his mind at such times. All he knew was that it meant he was being left alone, however briefly. He was even able to drift, sometimes, in something that was not quite sleep but also not exactly wakefulness.

Sometimes during those times he wondered about Dean. Wondered if he was okay, if he and Bobby were both okay. If they were still out there fighting somehow. He had no idea, really, of what exactly Lucifer had been doing before they’d been bound together, or if his demon underlings were still out there doing it while their leader was… occupied. Did they… did they think Castiel was dead?

He hoped that they did. He couldn’t bear the thought of them ever finding out what had happened to him. Finding out what he’d become.

The Devil’s whore.

He tried not to think of Sam at all, of what he might be going through, trapped inside his own body. It hurt too much. But it was hard when he was staring at his face all the time.

He was roused out of his daze one day by an insistent pounding on the door. Lucifer stalked over and threw it open with an annoyed snarl. Castiel almost expected the usual hushed conversation, but some instinct in his gut told him that this time was different. He suddenly felt… unsettled. Something big was happening. He just knew it.

“What?” Lucifer growled. “That’s impossible.” He stalked away from the door in agitation, leaving it open. Castiel caught sight of a brawny, dark-haired man in the doorway. When his eyes turned in Castiel’s direction, his eyes flashed demon black and a sneer twisted his lips.

“You don’t look at him!” Lucifer screamed, moving back towards the door and shoving the demon back out into the hallway. “He’s mine!”

“We are under attack, sir. We need you in the fight, not here playing with your whore,” the demon sneered.

The first thing that registered in Castiel’s mind was to be amazed that the demons had become so unhappy with Lucifer’s absence from the war effort that they would speak to him with such a lack of respect. The second was to feel a hot flush of shame at being called a whore. Even if it was true.

And then finally… attack? What did he mean, they were under attack?

He heard it then. Faintly, in the distance. Gunfire. Shouting.

Some un-nameable emotion swelled in his chest. He couldn’t even tell if it was hope, it had been so long since he’d felt it.

Lucifer looked back into the room, his eyes locking with Castiel’s. They both knew that he couldn’t leave, not without feeling the undeniable compulsion to return to Castiel. He snarled again, marching over to the bed. With sharp movements he freed Castiel’s wrists from the bed only to retie them together before hauling him to his feet. Castiel grunted in shock. Lucifer dug into one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of pants, thrusting them in Castiel’s direction.

“Put these on. You’re not going out there with what’s mine on display for everyone,” Lucifer hissed.

“W-what?” Castiel stuttered. Go out there? He couldn’t be serious.

“Put them on!” Lucifer barked. Castiel fumbled to obey. It was awkward, his wrists bound together, his body aching, the movements unfamiliar after so long. When he finally managed to pull them up over his hips, Lucifer grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the door. They joined the demon in the hallway. Castiel blinked in disorientation. Out there the sound of fighting was louder, perhaps one floor below them. As he frantically swept his gaze around he saw that they seemed to be in the upper hallway of a mansion, the décor speaking of wealth. The original owners were doubtlessly now amongst Lucifer’s underlings.

The demon shot Castiel a disdainful sneer before leading the way towards a grand staircase. Down below, in what appeared to be an opulent foyer, other demons were engaged in battle with what could only be hunters.

Hunters.

Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t… he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want anyone to see him. Half-naked, scars covering his body, a doubtlessly wild look in his eyes. All that he was, all that had happened to him, all that he’d become… he was sure that it was written all over him.

At the same time, some deep recess of his heart was beating out a staccato rhythm….

Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean… Dean might be down there….

The demon who was leading them raced down the stairs with a snarl to join the fight. Lucifer remained frozen at the top of the stairs, his grip on Castiel’s arm like steel. He watched the combat with a manic look in his eyes, but did not descend to join in. Castiel wondered numbly why that was. Lucifer’s gaze cut sideways at him for a moment, and suddenly Castiel understood. The binding. He couldn’t leave Castiel, and he couldn’t risk losing his obsession by bringing him into the fight. His priorities had become that skewed.

“SAM!”

The voice jolted something deep inside of Castiel’s chest. He snapped his attention back down to the foyer. The fighting was over. The hunters had won. A few new faces had joined the others from another room, showing signs of having been engaged in their own battle.

Dean. And Bobby.

Castiel’s knees gave way. Lucifer’s grip on his arm was the only thing that held him up.

Dean and Bobby stared up at the two of them with horror plain on their faces. Castiel suddenly wanted to hide. He found himself pulling weakly at Lucifer’s grip, wanting to run. He’d never felt more pathetic in his entire existence. Lucifer seemed to pull himself together, yanking Castiel closer against him. He smirked, an echo of his earlier self, before the binding. Castiel could still see the crazed glint in his eyes, though.

“Sam’s not driving this bus right now, Dean. Sorry to disappoint,” he drawled.

“Well, we’ll just have to do something about that then, won’t we?” a new voice said. A very familiar voice. Castiel’s eyes widened in shock.

Gabriel.

He strolled into the foyer from the same adjacent room that Dean and Bobby had appeared from, holding a small, ornate box.

“You’re dead,” Lucifer growled. “I killed you.”

“Please,” Gabriel scoffed. “Like you’re the first person to think that. They didn’t call me the Trickster for nothing.”

Castiel was trembling. That voice. It was the voice. He was sure of it. Gabriel was the one who’d done this to him. To them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucifer sneered. “What do you think you can do?”

“Actually, there’s quite a lot I can do, brother,” Gabriel said with a smirk. He held the box aloft and started reciting in a language Castiel didn’t recognize. Lucifer cocked his head, puzzled, and drew Castiel even closer, holding him close to his body. It was frighteningly, publicly intimate. Castiel couldn’t bear to look at his former comrades, afraid of what he might see on their faces, what knowledge they might be guessing at.

Suddenly Lucifer went rigid, his arm clamping around Castiel’s shoulders. Gabriel’s voice continued on.

It was a spell, Castiel realized. Some kind of magic like what had already been cast on them.

“W-what are you doing?” Lucifer gasped. He fell to his knees, drawing Castiel down with him. Then he screamed. Light started to pulsate through his eyes and mouth.

He’s drawing him out, Castiel realized with wonder. Somehow, he’s drawing him out!

“Close your eyes, everybody!” Gabriel suddenly yelled, the spell apparently finished. Castiel instinctively obeyed. White light flared across his eyelids, and his skin thrummed with the passing of powerful magic. Slowly, it faded out, and Castiel blinked his eyes open. Lucifer was still clutching him tightly, his face turned down towards the ground.

Only… only it wasn’t Lucifer anymore.

Slowly, the shaggy head raised up. Brown eyes met his own, and it was only Sam who was staring back at him.

Lucifer was gone.

Tears spilled down Sam’s face, his eyes filled with unspeakable anguish.

“Cas…. God, Cas,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken.

Castiel could only stare in amazement.

“Sam!” And suddenly Dean was there, gripping Sam’s shoulders and shaking him, dislodging his grip on Castiel. Castiel let himself fall to the side, his mind trying to process what had just happened. “Sam, it’s you, right? Sam!” Dean demanded fervently.

“Y-yeah. It’s me,” Sam replied. His eyes were still on Castiel. Castiel looked away. He wasn’t important now. He huddled against the railing to the stairs.

“It worked. It really freaking worked,” Dean breathed. He pulled Sam into a fierce hug. “I don’t believe it. I don’t freaking believe it. Sam.”

“Cas?” a tentative voice said. Castiel looked up. It was Bobby. He and Gabriel had climbed up the stairs to the landing as well. Gabriel was still holding the box.

Castiel couldn’t even begin to formulate a response. He looked down again.

“This is a touching reunion and all but we have to take care of business. This nuke is still hot, so to speak,” Gabriel said.

“Right,” Bobby said. “Dean?”

“Take care of it, Bobby,” Dean snapped impatiently, still clutching Sam. He pulled away just enough to fish in his pocket and toss a few items to Bobby, then returned to clutching his brother. Sam was shaking, his head buried in Dean’s shoulder.

The Horseman’s rings. They were going to open the cage. But where was Lucifer?

Bobby and Gabriel moved further down the hall. Bobby spoke a few words and tossed the rings onto the floor, which fell away to reveal a swirling black pit. Gabriel tossed the box inside, and the vortex closed up again.

The box. They’d pulled Lucifer out of Sam and trapped him in a box?

Castiel thought he’d known shock before. He kept being surprised by just how frayed his mind could feel.

Uneasiness was stirring in his stomach. A pale imitation of what the binding had produced before, but there all the same.

Did the binding still hold, even with Lucifer back in the cage? The thought was terrifying.

Someone crouched in front of him. He jerked back when they reached for him, but they only took his bound hands and started slicing through the rope with a knife. He chanced a glance up. Bobby, with Gabriel standing close behind. He couldn’t meet their eyes.

He was still trembling. He thought maybe that he might never stop.

“Weren’t sure we were going to find you alive, kid,” Bobby said in an uncharacteristically soft voice once he’d cut Castiel’s hands free.

Kid? He must look pretty damn awful if Bobby was calling him kid. But who was he kidding? He knew just how awful he looked. He glanced over to where Dean was still huddled with Sam. He wanted to be with them.

He wanted to be with Sam.

His eyes shot up to Gabriel’s strangely somber face before looking down again.

“What did you do?” he murmured. His voice sounded just as weak as he felt.

“I don’t think this is the time or place for that conversation, little brother,” Gabriel answered briskly. “In fact, we really should be on our way.” Bobby seemed to take that as his cue, rising to his feet and moving towards Dean and Sam.

“Time to go, boys,” he said, clamping a hand down on Sam’s shoulder. “Damn good to have you back, Sam.” Sam nodded shakily, pulling back from Dean with obvious reluctance. Dean was clearly just as reluctant to let him go. Bobby and Dean both helped to pull Sam to his feet. He was pale and shaking.

“Cas?” he murmured, suddenly looking around wildly.

“He’s right here,” Gabriel said, reaching down to pull Castiel to his feet. He was surprisingly gentle but Castiel still flinched at the touch. “Here, little brother, let me help you out a bit.” Healing magic washed through him, wiping away every last shred of physical pain. For the first time in who knew how long, he didn’t hurt. At least, his body didn’t. He opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them. The scars were gone. His skin was smooth and unmarked. When he looked up, his eyes locked with Sam’s. Sam looked… wrecked. Something charged passed between them. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean and Bobby exchange a perplexed look. Sam twitched, an abortive movement that looked as if he’d almost reached towards Castiel but had stopped himself. He looked away.

“Dean. Your jacket.” Sam murmured.

“Huh?” Dean asked, frowning a little but then understanding dawned. “Oh, right. Of course.” He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out towards Castiel, who could only blink at it in confusion. With a sigh, Dean moved to help him put it on. Again, he flinched at the touch. He just couldn’t help it. “It’s good to have you back, too, Cas,” Dean murmured. Castiel nodded numbly.

“How long?” Castiel asked softly. His voice still sounded alien in his ears. He pulled Dean’s jacket tighter around his shoulders, enveloping himself in his scent. Wearing clothes felt alien, too. Dean and Bobby exchanged another look.

“Again, not the time and place, little brother,” Gabriel said. “All will be explained shortly.” He waved his arms as if trying to herd them down the stairs.

“Don’t call me that,” Castiel said, his voice brittle. Sam flinched. Gabriel was quiet for a long moment, regarding him seriously.

“Okay, fair enough,” he finally said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

The other hunters they had been working with had already left in their own vehicles. Gabriel disappeared, apparently going to meet up with them at their destination. Dean bitched under his breath about him not just zapping them all back, too.

Sitting in the backseat of the Impala with Bobby was… unreal. He half-expected to wake up back in that bedroom, still tied to the bed. It didn’t seem possible that it was really over.

Except… he was pretty sure that it wasn’t over. He could still feel something. The separation anxiety that had come with being away from Lucifer was thrumming under his skin, only more like an echo of the feeling rather than the full strength. But it wasn’t just that. His eyes kept being drawn towards Sam, sitting quietly in the passenger seat. He wanted to be near him. He wanted to belong to him.

Whatever Gabriel had done to them, it was still having an effect.

When they drove past the battered wooden sign, Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Camp Chitaqua?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “Turned out this dump is actually a pretty good place to hole up in when the world goes to shit, even if things didn’t exactly play out the way Zachariah showed me.”

“Because you changed them,” Castiel said softly.

“Because we changed them,” Dean said firmly, his jaw set. Castiel had no response to that.

Gabriel was waiting for them in the main room of the largest cabin. It seemed to be more of a command center than a place where anyone lived.

“You all look like crap,” he announced when they filed in. Bobby snorted. “If we were smart we’d save this conversation until after everyone’s gotten some shut-eye. But I have a feeling that these two are probably eager to find out what the hell is going on. And, truthfully, there’s some stuff we need to discuss that probably shouldn’t wait.” There was a grim expression on his face.

It was true, Castiel felt physically healthier than he had in ages but mentally he was completely exhausted. And he doubted Sam was faring any better. He still looked pale and shaken. And though he wouldn’t look at Castiel, he also couldn’t seem to bring himself to move more than a few feet away from him. All Castiel wanted to do was collapse into unconsciousness. But he needed to know. He could see the same determination in Sam’s face. They both needed to know. With a sigh Bobby gestured at the chairs set up around a rickety folding table and they all sat. Castiel huddled deeper into Dean’s jacket.

For a long moment there was silence, no one seeming to know where to start. Finally, it was Sam’s uncertain voice that spoke up.

“How did you do it? How you get him out of me?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, a very excellent question. First off, when you spend many a century hanging out with powerful pagan spirits who fancy themselves gods, you sometimes stumble upon some interesting bits of magic. While your friends here were driving themselves mad with research, trying to come up with some kind of plan, the subject of curse boxes came up. I remembered this box that Kali had told me about once. An ancient legend, older even than she could guess. It was designed to draw in incredible malevolent power and seal it. It was probably, in fact, the very first curse box. Intrigued, I went on a hunt and after much searching I was finally able to find it. It seemed like the perfect solution to the Lucifer question.” A smirk twisted Gabriel’s mouth. “But if we’re being perfectly honest here, I was only about fifty-fifty sure that it would even work.” He laughed as Dean and Bobby gaped at him.

“You said you were sure! Absolutely positive!” Dean barked. “What the hell would we have done if it hadn’t worked?”

“We would have died, probably,” Gabriel said nonchalantly. “But it was the only thing that even might have worked. So, you know, why not have you guys go in with a positive attitude?” Dean rubbed his face wearily and Bobby shook his head in disgust. Castiel was struck suddenly with the incongruous image of the three of them working together for who knew how long. It was baffling to say the least.

“Why are you even here?” he found himself asking softly. He was suddenly conscious of every gaze in the room settling on him, and he fidgeted nervously, something he never would have done… before. But he continued, because he wanted to know. “I mean, we all thought you were dead. Why get involved now?”

“You’re right," Gabriel sighed. "I faked my death and was in hiding again and could have continued on, not getting involved in either side. But… after Lucifer marched on Heaven, and killed so many of our brothers and sisters… I couldn’t stomach playing Switzerland anymore. I had to do something. Maybe your nobility is catching, lit-, uh, Castiel.” Castiel shuddered at the mention of Lucifer’s attack on Heaven and the confirmation that many had died. He almost wanted to ask more, to know how things stood after the attack. But… it could wait for later. He remained silent.

“Anyway,” Gabriel continued. “Even after I’d found a possible tool for tossing Lucifer back in his cage, that was only half the problem. The other half was finding the bastard in order to stuff him in the box. He was moving around the globe seemingly at random, setting off disasters and causing mayhem.” He looked at Castiel. “Dean and Bobby told me they figured that he had you, after the clusterfuck that was what happened in the cemetery. They didn’t know if you were still alive, though. Unlike Lucifer, I knew you wouldn’t be powerful enough to be hiding your essence. But it was so weak, it still took me awhile to pin it down. After I finally did, I used that tentative connection to cast a spell, another relic of my pagan buddies.” Castiel swallowed nervously, feeling suddenly much more tense. He glanced at Sam and caught him staring back. He looked away again. Gabriel sighed, a grimace twisting his lips.

“It was a very powerful spell, some really dark magic. The aim was to get Lucifer… distracted. So he would stay in one place and we could track him down. It worked. There are… consequences, though. More so than I let on to you,” he added, glancing at Dean.

“What?” Dean asked sharply.

“Trust me, I would never have done this if it hadn’t been our only choice. You have to understand that, okay? It was our only choice. If I had explained everything before you wouldn’t have agreed, and this was the only option. Binding Lucifer and Castiel together didn’t just distract Lucifer, it made him obsessed. I can’t even begin to imagine what Castiel suffered in order to keep Lucifer ‘distracted’ for us,” Gabriel said. There was a heavy moment of silence. Castiel stared at the table. “And there’s more.”

“More?” Dean groaned.

“They’re still bound together,” Gabriel said, confirming what Castiel already suspected. “In fact, I’m not sure if there even is a way to undo the spell, though I’m going to try to find one, believe me. And… well. Sam may not have been in control but he was there in the body, so he’s included in the binding, too. On the, uh, dominant end.” Dean stared hard at Gabriel for a long moment.

“What exactly does that mean?” Dean finally asked, his voice deadly.

“They can’t be apart. Physically. Not sure exactly what the allowable space is but go too far apart and they will both become ill. Force them apart and eventually they’ll die. Both will be fixated on the other, but as the dominant Sam’s fixation will be more about obsession and control. As the, uh, submissive, Castiel’s fixation will be, well, submission to him.” Gabriel grimaced again, as if anticipating Dean’s response. “And… well, a big part of the binding is, uh, sexual in nature. If they don’t have sex regularly, Sam will eventually lose control and uh, force the issue.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed.

“Never!” Sam barked, slamming his hand down on the table. Castiel flinched. “If you think that I could ever do that, especially after… after…. Well, you’re wrong!” Gabrel looked at him with pity.

“It’s not a matter of self-control, Sam,” he said. “It’s not a temptation that you’ll be able to resist if you’re just strong enough. Fight it and you will lose. And the longer you do try to fight it, the worse it will be when it happens. And it will happen.” Sam’s hands clenched into fists and he stared down at the table, anguish written all over his face. Castiel wanted to comfort him, needed to do something to help him, but he had no idea what he could do. Of course Sam wouldn’t want to touch Lucifer’s whore.

He recognized the thought as unreasonable even as it passed through his mind, but felt it anyway.

“Lucifer raped Cas, didn’t he? He didn’t just torture him, he raped him, too,” Dean stated angrily, staring at Gabriel. Castiel flinched, dread flooding through him. Of course they would guess. It was all too obvious. He still shrank with the knowledge that they knew.

“That wasn’t solely from the binding,” Gabriel stated evenly. “It was already happening before I cast the spell.”

Bobby cursed under his breath and then there was a deafening silence. Castiel had never felt more ashamed in his entire existence. He wished he could just… disappear.

“So you bound your little brother to his rapist,” Dean finally said. “And then you shoved said rapist into a cage in hell. Now, if this binding means they can’t be apart, what exactly does that mean for Cas?”

“Well, it’s physically apart that’s key, and Lucifer doesn’t currently have physical form. The distress should be minimal compared to when he was possessing Sam, and it almost certainly shouldn't be fatal.” Gabriel glanced at Castiel. “I’m guessing… some uneasiness and discomfort, an awareness of his absence maybe, but it should be bearable.” He seemed to expect some response, so Castiel gave a sharp nod.

“So he’s what, pining for him?” Dean asked.

“That’s probably a pretty good analogy, yeah,” Gabriel replied.

“Great. He’s being forced to pine for his rapist. That’s just fabulous. And you don’t know if you can ever reverse it? That’s just absolutely wonderful,” Dean sneered.

“Hey, if you think I don’t feel bad about this, you’re wrong. But let me just remind you again that this was our only choice. You wanted to save the world, right? To keep everyone from dying? Well, this is the price that had to be paid. And would you rather that Castiel was dead? That Sam was dead? I don’t think you have much room to be complaining here at all!” Gabriel barked. “I am going to continue searching for a way to reverse the spell but it simply might not exist. Besides which, a lot of my attention is going to have to go to rebuilding Heaven. I’m the only archangel left. They need me. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

“How about you guys stop talking about us as if we’re not here?” Sam interrupted. Both Gabriel and Dean looked at him. Sam took a deep, unsteady breath. “Right or wrong, this is the situation as it stands,” he said evenly. “We’ll deal with it. It’s not going to be… pleasant, but we’ll figure it out. After everything we’ve been through… all things considered this is a pretty good outcome. Lucifer is… gone.” He couldn’t quite suppress a shudder at the name and Castiel had to fight not to reach out and touch his hand. “The Apocalypse is over. If we still have shit to deal with, well, that’s just life. We’ll deal.” He turned pleading eyes on Gabriel. “But please, do everything you can to find a way to reverse this. Cas doesn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t have to let me…. He shouldn’t have to…. Fuck, you guys have no idea….” His voice trailed off and he looked away.

Castiel couldn’t help himself anymore. Before he was even fully aware of it happening he’d reached out and touched his fingers to the back of Sam’s hand, a small, pathetic gesture of comfort. Sam flinched but then grasped Castiel’s hand in his own, the grip almost painful.

“I… I have no right to anything from you,” Sam said, his voice heavy with anguish.

“It wasn’t you,” Castiel replied, his voice just as charged with emotion.

“I was there. I was there for all of it,” Sam said. Castiel could only nod, too overcome to speak. It was his worst fear confirmed, but in his heart he’d always known. Lucifer wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Gabriel cleared his throat and Castiel was suddenly acutely aware of the others in the room again.

“Well, I’m going to be on my way. As I mentioned, there’s a lot of work to be done in Heaven. But I will keep searching, I promise. I’m also going to try to figure out how Raphael and Michael cut you off from the heavenly grapevine, Cas. Until then I’m afraid you’ll be stuck in your nearly-human state. If you guys need anything, you know how to get in touch,” Gabriel said. “Take care of yourself,” he added, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch him,” Sam snarled. Gabriel jerked his hand back and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone stared at Sam until realization passed over his face and he flushed, lowering his gaze. But his grip on Castiel’s hand tightened.

Castiel told himself that it was just comforting, that there was no simultaneous stirring of fear in his gut.

And then Gabriel was gone, leaving behind the echo of fluttering wings.

“Time to turn in,” Bobby said wearily. “We could all use the rest.” No one disagreed.

Dean led Sam and Castiel towards his cabin. It had gone unspoken that Castiel would stay with Sam. As they walked along the path Sam’s arm reached out and pulled Castiel against him, but when Castiel glanced up he was studiously staring straight forward, his expression troubled.

Castiel forced his tense muscles to relax, fitting himself more easily against Sam’s side. His stomach flipped uncertainly, but this was Sam and no one else. Another glance up showed that Sam’s expression had softened a little as well. He met Castiel’s gaze briefly and gave him a quick, uncertain smile before he looked away.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Even under the pull of the binding spell, Castiel knew that he was afraid. Afraid to be so close to the person who had done such unspeakable things to him. Afraid of what was going to happen when they had to give in. Everything in his mind was still… frayed.

But this was the body that had hurt him, not the man.

If he could just remember that, everything would be okay. He could make Sam see it, too. Everything really would be okay.

He had to believe it. There was no other option.

The End