Gibberings: For Moogs, who is an awesome friend and beta. Love you giiirl -hugs- Inspired by my need to whump Sam and my love of Castiel. Hope everyone had an awesome Christmas!
Betaed by Mo also...because she's awesome.
Spoilers: Season 4, Ep 10- Heaven and Hell
We feel isolated and lonely, and it's not necessary. Each of us has a guardian angel who works with us as much as we will allow. –Eileen Elias Freeman
For last night an angel of the God to Whom I belong and Whom I serve stood by me. –Acts 27:23
Now I lay me down to sleep…
Sam laid his head back against the decadent tree. After everything they had been through, after every ill omen of the future, to die there alone in the forest from a simple mistake was a little disappointing. He might have even been embarrassed if he wasn't so tired. As it was his vision misted, his head swam, his limbs felt like wet noodles, and his drifting mind wondered why so many pain metaphors related back to water.
It wasn't supposed to go like this. He and Dean were hunting a simple Yeti. They split up to try and corner it. What they didn't know was that the Yeti was working for a snow witch.
It was a mistake that would probably cost him his life.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
A flutter made its way through the barricade of pain around his mind. "Dean?" He opened his eyes heavily. The tawny trench coat and the untorn jeans that flitted in front of his vision told him otherwise. He couldn't seem to manage lifting his eyes higher than the man's kneecaps so he was glad when the stranger kneeled down beside him.
Then he realized it wasn't a stranger at all.
"Castiel?" The angel's face always seemed to hold concern and anxiety, his features never seeming at peace, but the softness in those blue eyes was new. A warm hand ghosted over Sam's wound. There were a thousand perfectly reasonable questions that he should ask, but somehow Sam couldn't get past the first one. "Where's Dean?"
"Trying furiously to get to you," the angel replied, "The storm will have set him back. He won't make it before morning." Sam felt the hand move to his other wound, the one that ran clean through his gut. Castiel's expression didn't waiver, but the compassion in his eyes only grew.
When the angel didn't respond Sam had his answer.
"I guess this is a good thing for your side," the young hunter mused. Castiel tilted his head toward him. "If I die you don't have to worry about the other side using me anymore."
"Not all of us have given up on you, Sam Winchester."
Sam felt himself drifting, swept up in a wave of pain, until a hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He blinked up at Castiel, but the angel didn't speak. Sam wanted to ask him more questions. Wanted to know more about Heaven, about Hell, and about everything they faced; but his tired mind looked up at the stars instead. They were always so clear on the coldest nights.
And if I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take
The angel watched each snowflake as it sailed down to the earth, catching moonlight in their crystal surface and holding it in.
"Do you like the snow Castiel?" Sam questioned softly, watching the reflection of it in angel's blue eyes.
"I love all of my father's creations."
"I know…but I mean do you like the snow?" the young hunter attempted to explain. Castiel took in the scenery around them, deceptively calm with such danger around.
"I do have a special affection for it, yes," he answered honestly.
"Does it remind you of home?"
The angel turned slowly and met Sam's gaze but he saw only earnest inquiry, the haze of fever clinging to the young hunter's dark irises.
"People say snow is 'heavenly'. I'm just…" his words trailed as a bitter cough escaped his cracked lips. Sam sunk back against the tree too exhausted to even shudder. Castiel placed his hand against the hunter's forehead, and warmth spread out from them. Sam sighed softly, his eyes falling shut again.
"Heaven is better than you can imagine, Sam," the angel replied, breaking the silence.
"It's nice to know…that…there's good out there." The words were slow, darkness creeping into his mind. "Castiel…" Sam breathed, "Thank you…for not letting me die alone." The angel moved forward into Sam's air space, blue eyes piercing.
"I'm not going to let you die at all."
"SAAAAM!" The young hunter's eyes snapped open, sluggishly pulling toward the voice. The leather jacket blurred with the dead trees, and Dean was there. His brother kneeled in front of him, worry laced in those expressive eyes. "Sammy?" it was a plea this time.
"De…" A lethargic smile crossed Sam's lips. He forced a glance sideways, the movement taking far more effort than normal, but Castiel was gone.
"I don't understand it," Bobby said, shaking his head.
"Is he ok?" Dean asked, looking up at his friend—his father.
"That's just it. Dean, the wound went clean through him. He shouldn't be alive."
"But?" Dean begged, because there had to be a but. He needed there to be one.
"He didn't bleed out, he barely bled at all," Bobby responded.
"Was something blocking it?" Dean furrowed his brow, looking closer at the hole—the huge friggin hole—in his brother's stomach as Bobby stitched it.
"No," the older hunter replied, "But it gets weirder. He doesn't have hypothermia. Not even frost bite. You said he was awake when you found him?"
"Dean if he had fallen asleep he would have died."
The words came out before his mind even registered them, "Thank God."
May angels watch me through the night and keep me safe till morning's light.