The Brink of Madness
Summary: In a last ditch effort to stop Sam from going after Lilith, Castiel decides to show the kid his future.
Sam tumbled crazily from the bed, a mass of long arms and legs clamoring to escape his fate. He stumbled to his feet, and shuffled backwards. He almost fell into the wall of the motel room, his back pressed hard against the plaster as he struggled to get away. His face was drawn up, pain evident on his features as his incoherent eyes stared blankly forward. His long brown hair fell plastered to his forehead as sweat beaded quickly to his skin and rolled in little rivets down his opaque face. He didn't see anything, just a replay of the horrors that he had just witnessed. He stared vacantly forward, liquid hazel eyes looking wildly at nothing in particular as his body panted just for air.
No, No, No, No…his mind screamed at him as the reality of what he saw slammed against him. Huge tears welled against his eyelids and tumbled uncontrollably down his colorless cheeks. He whimpered. He could only see death and destruction. The fear took a hold and squeezed him tightly across his chest, his limbs beginning to shudder. His long legs buckled beneath his weight and he slumped downward, his butt thudding hard against the dirty brown carpet. He blinked incoherently at the scenes that continued to play over and over in his manic mind.
A key in the motel doorway signaled to Castiel that Dean had returned, and he momentarily questioned whether he had done the right thing. He did what Sam had asked him to do, but now, looking at the incoherent kid in front of him, he wasn't sure it was the best thing. He knew beforehand the magnitude of what he was showing Sam, how it could overwhelm him; he had just hoped that the young hunter's fragile human mind could withstand it. Showing Sam Winchester the future, the destiny he was preordained to be apart of, well, now, he decided, it may not have been his best idea to date.
"Hey," Dean yelled as he dropped the Chinese take out bags to the floor, and pushed Castiel roughly to the side. He moved abruptly around the bed in three large steps, anxious to get to Sam, to help his little brother. Sam just continued to scoot farther away, moving sideways, crab crawling across the room and away from Dean.
"Sam?" Dean whispered as his callous fingers grasped Sam firmly by both arms.
"What's the matter? Sammy?" Dean paused and stared, green eyes heavy with concern as he looked inquisitively at his little brother's pale face. What the hell?
The older brother's hands tightened around Sam's biceps holding his flailing sibling steady as he whipped his head around to glare angrily over at Castiel.
"What the hell did you do to him?"
Castiel shook his head slightly, sad eyes' staring at Sam's shuddering form.
"I did what he asked me to, what I had to do." The angel whispered quietly, "he had to see, Dean, it was the only way to stop him."
Dean loosed his grip on his brother, Castiel's words stunning him momentary.
He watched blankly as Sam moved frenetically down the wall, fraught to escape from whatever was playing over and over in his head. He stared in stunned silence as Sam pushed wildly, eyes darting incomprehensibly around the room. He could tell that Sam wasn't seeing him; his little brother's eyes blown, pupils dilated, showing very little hazel.
Fear immediately gripped the older brother's chest and he pondered the magnitude of Castiel's words, of what his baby brother may have really seen.
In what seemed like a lifetime, but was actually only a few seconds, Sam hit a corner and there was nowhere else for him to go, then, his long fingers came up and grabbed uselessly at his own hair, tearing at it, tugging and pulling. His long fingers gouged at his eyes, scratching and clawing at his face with fierce deliberate strokes. Then, his head flung backward and banged roughly against the wall with a loud resounding thud.
The noise sprang Dean into action. Sam's hurting himself. A large wave of anger bubbled in his chest, and he stumbled forward to Sam's side. His urge to be the big brother overtook the anger and the disapproval he may be experiencing at the moment.
"Hey," He kneeled down quickly beside Sam, pulling his brother's hands hastily away from his face, fighting with him to stop the fanatical movement. "Hey, hey, hey, stop it, Sam;" he yelled loudly, "Sammy…."
But Sam didn't seem to hear him, caught up in his own little world as he fought against Dean's grasp and the nightmare that Castiel had revealed to him. The younger hunger babbled something about demons, and death, and evil as he thrashed against his brother.
Dean glared at Castiel as he pulled his gangly limbed sibling up against him, his chin resting firmly against the top of the matted, sweaty hair. He moved one arm to wrap firmly around his flailing brother, pulling both Sam's arms tightly against his chest to stop their frantic motion. His other hand reached firmly against the back of the Sam's neck and held him steady, pushing Sam's face against his own chest. Tears welled into his eyes as he pleaded for Sam to stop.
"Please Sammy, calm down."
He could feel the tenseness of Sam's muscles as he continued to squirm against him, as he fought against the horrors in his mind. He listened as Sam whimpered and moaned, and made feral little hissing noises as he strained to pull oxygen into his deprived lungs.
"Easy, Sammy….I got'cha….Sh…I got'cha."
Sam shuddered beneath him. "He's in shock, what the hell…freak'n angels…" Dean hissed angrily. He nodded toward the bed. "Give me that damn bedspread," his emerald green eyes daring Castiel to defy.
The angel moved quickly to reach the tattered blanket on the end of the motel bed and draped it silently across Sam's shaking shoulders.
"Get out," Dean muttered.
"I'm sorry Dean, but I had to do it, Sam had to know that finding Lilith would break the last seal, he had to see it, and he had to be stopped. This….this was the only way."
Dean just glared at the angel, and then glanced back down at Sam. He held his brother tightly in a hug, one that they had not experienced in a long time, since before he went to hell, since Sam had died in Cold Oak. He felt Sam swaying slightly beneath his arms, a light rocking motion that Dean remembered from their youth. He remembered when a tiny Sam would climb up in his lap, tears welling in his little eyes, needing Dean to make it all better. Dean remembered and he responded, comforting his incoherent little brother, fingers tugging through the sweaty chestnut hair. He unconsciously hummed, and rocked. "Easy, Sammy….it's okay…you're okay. It's not happening….shhhhhh, it was just a nightmare…it's not happening, kiddo."
He didn't know how long he sat like that, holding onto his little brother, but finally, he pulled his deep green eyes upward to look at Castiel, to implore him to make this all go away, to make Sammy be okay, but the angel was no longer in the room.
A/N- Okay, thanks for reading- I was doing this as a one shot, but then decided it might need a little more time than that, so there will be more to come.