Summary: Set in the 2014!Verse. Sam visits Castiel the night before he goes to Detroit.

Warnings: Slash, NC-17, some rough play, drug use.

A/N: I've never written this pairing before but I really enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, it's something I might do again in the future. Also I haven't written smut in AGES so be gentle but please feel free to critique.


Castiel flipped a small white tablet into the air, and smiled when it landed easily on his tongue. He relaxed back against his mattress, shifting slightly so he wasn't lying directly on the spots where the springs had poked through the material. Today had been busy, and his initial plan to spend the daylight hours in a pleasant stupor had fallen by the wayside. Now it was late at night, and he was free to lay back with his eyes closed and wait for the cloud of incoherency to overtake him.

He felt the eyes on him before he saw them. Even without his angelic powers, Castiel was incredibly in tune with his surroundings. The air became uncomfortably still, and then began to vibrate, like a new energy was feeding into it. When Castiel opened his eyes and turned his head, he saw a dark silhouette behind the curtain that separated his bedroom and the meditation space. He would know that shape anywhere.

"Sam."

The name left his lips as a hoarse whisper, and Cas was all at once overcome with emotion and doubt. It had been four years since he had seen the younger Winchester - four very long years. Dean had all but convinced him that Sam was dead. No - Sam had to be dead.

But then the curtain pulled back and there he was: six and a half feet of flesh and bone. A brief thought flickered through Castiel's mind: maybe the drugs had finally driven him insane. This didn't feel like a hallucination, however, or a dream. He had only taken a hit five minutes ago, there was very little chance he was even high. So how was Sam standing in front of him?

"Hey, Castiel," Sam said quietly. "It's been awhile."

Castiel stood slowly from his bed and walked towards Sam, to which Sam visibly tensed, but didn't move away. Then, as Cas moved closer to his friend, the air started to hum. It began in his ears, and soon the vibrations cut down to his bones. He tried to ignore it as he closed in on Sam and wrapped his arms around the other man's larger torso, but when his face pressed against Sam's warm chest, the smell hit him like a punch.

He broke the hug and took a quick step back.

"You're back on the demon blood." Castiel swallowed hard as he looked into Sam's eyes. "A lot of it, too."

Sam laughed softly. "You'll never be quite human, will you Cas?"

"I don't think you're in any postition to talk." Castiel's sarcasm would've sounded almost playful if he could've forced the smile to reach his eyes. "What's going on Sam?"

Sam flicked his eyes away from Castiel's probing stare. "I wanted to stop here before...just before. I wanted to say - " Sam seemed to be fighting some internal battle with himself and, oddly enough, losing. He sighed and rolled his eyes back up to meet the blue ones that hadn't yet looked away. "I'm on my way to Detroit."

"Detroit," Cas repeated dumbly.

Sam nodded.

"You're going to say yes."

"I don't expect you to understand." Sam's hands curled into fists at his sides. "And I didn't come here to explain myself."

"Then why are you here?" Castiel snapped. A muscle in Sam's jaw twitched and Castiel quickly shifted into his mediator voice. "Look, why don't you have a seat. Hell, have a joint, take a load off. I'll go get Dean and we will talk this out like rational people - "

"No," Sam said quickly. "Dean can never know I was here."

"Your brother loves you. He's lost right now, but I know if he could just see you, if he could know you're okay, then we could work this out - "

"There's nothing to work out, Castiel. I'm going to Detroit and I'm never coming back. All you're going to do if you tell Dean I was here is cause him more pain. I don't think he can take that, do you?"

Castiel's jaw set in a hard line as he contemplated his options. Dean was his leader, his friend. He trusted him to make choices that were in the best interest of their people. If there was even a small chance of reuniting the Winchester brothers and stopping the war and madness that was swirling around them, he had to take it. If Dean could stop Sam from saying yes to the devil, he had to try...

Then there was Sam, just standing there, looking intimidatingly large in the small cabin. When Castiel looked into Sam's eyes he could see first the electricity from the demon blood running through his veins - but beneath that, there was some part of Sam that was pleading with him. The drugs were working through his system now, making it hard to reign in the insufferable empathy he felt nowadays.

The gears were turning slowly in Castiel's head as he tried to grasp at clarity and figure out what he should do. In all his concentration, he failed to see he had given Sam and advantageous moment to step forward into his space. He barely registered that the air around him was humming again before there was a hand twisting in his hair, gripping and snapping his neck back. Sam cut off Castiel's gasp by forcefully claiming his mouth.

Their tongues danced, and Castiel moaned. His hands found the front of Sam's shirt and wound themselves in the fabric, desperate for something to hold onto. Sam kept his grip on Castiel's hair tight, kept his neck jerked back at an awkward angle, and damn it was uncomfortable, but all Cas could focus on was the wet warmth of their lips mashed together.

Sam finally broke the kiss and moved his hand down to rest on the back of Castiel's neck. He pressed his forehead against the smaller man's and listened to the rasping of Cas trying to get his breath back.

"I'm not here for Dean," Sam murmured. "I'm not interested in his strategy meetings, or his self-righteous rants, or his hare-brained scheme to get the Colt. I'm going to do what I have to do, my way. I just came to say goodbye. To you."

"Sam..." Castiel whispered his name like a prayer and pushed himself up for another kiss. An angelic tingling at the back of his mind told him that Sam tasted wrong, dirty, and the human portion of his brain reacted by clenching at his shoulders and sucking at his bottom lip more feverently. Fuck, he couldn't remember the last time he was this hot, and he had been in three orgies this week. They were nothing, however, compared to Sam holding him the way he was now. Sam Winchester, so broad, so solid, radiating heat and sinful energy. There was a time when Castiel would have turned his stomach at the idea of being man-handled by someone who, at this point, had to be half demon. An almost painful twitch told him that now, in this post-apocalyptic hell, his cock had much different ideas about what was and wasn't acceptable.

An experimental twitch of the hips had Castiel moaning. His thin linen trousers provided a flimsy barrier as he moved his erection against the answering bulge in Sam's jeans. With a devilish smirk Sam pulled back and started to unbutton his own shirt.

"Strip." It was a command that Cas was more than happy to follow. He shimmied out of his clothes with ease - really, his shirt and pants were just two loose pieces of fabric hanging on his thin frame - and was naked by the time Sam was pulling his undershirt off over his head.

His impulse control had long since faded away, and Castiel found himself foggily moving back to Sam. A new haze relaxed his mind and quieted the instinct to pull back as his face got close to Sam's chest again. Instead, he pressed his tongue flat against the skin of Sam's pec and ran it up over the tattooed patch of flesh close to his collarbone. Sam clenched and fought the urge to writhe and Castiel traced the outline of the pentagram with his tongue in slow, languid movements. The action was painfully erotic, but it wasn't what he was after.

Castiel felt Sam's hands pull him back, and then found himself being pushed to his knees. He looked at the - frankly, impressive - sight of Sam straining against his jeans just inches away. Curiously, Castiel brought his hand up and runs a palm over Sam's hidden length. He was rewarded by a soft "fuck, Cas" being hissed out through Sam's clenched teeth.

With nimble fingers, he undid the fly and pushed Sam's pants and boxers down past his knees, where Sam impatiently kicked them off. Slowly, Castiel ran his tongue along the bottom of Sam's cock from base to tip, his hands sliding up Sam's thighs at the same pace. When he'd licked along the entire length, he took the tip in his mouth and sucked gently. He twirled his tongue around the slit and Sam made a guttural noise.

As he continued his ministrations, Castiel snuck a glance up at Sam, who had his eyes closed in an attempt to maximize the sensations the rest of his body was experiencing. It occurred to Cas, perhaps belatedly, that this was the last human experience Sam was ever going to have. There was a sick curling in his gut that he tried to ignore as he gave one last hard suck to the tip of Sam's cock, then relaxed his throat and took the rest of Sam into his mouth at once.

Sam's eyes shot open and Castiel could see that his pupils had expanded - over-expanded, really. They hadn't quite gone demon black but there was no doubt that human eyes didn't turn that dark. It would have been easier to pretend that wasn't a turn on if drops of precome hadn't appeared on the tip of his own neglected cock. He hollowed his cheeks and worked Sam's length for a few thrusts before relaxing back and letting Sam freely fuck his mouth. He hummed as Sam gripped his hair and hit the back of his throat repeatedly, noticeably harder each time.

Suddenly Sam pulled off, staggering backwards with the exertion of regaining control over himself. Castiel sat back on his heels and momentarily wavered on the spot as oxygen came flooding back to him. When his vision cleared he saw Sam standing by a table in corner. He watched with unmasked admiration as Sam dipped his hand into a jar of massage oil, and then started sliding the hand slowly up and down his own swollen, red erection.

"Come here."

Castiel jumped unsteadily to his feet. When he was in arms reach, Sam grabbed him and pushed him up face first up against the wall. A small noise left Castiel's throat and he began to tremble in anticipation. A louder noise escaped him as Sam began to press a slippery finger into his entrance. It was soon joined by a second, and then Sam was stretching and opening him up without much ceremony. Before he withdrew them, he curled his fingertips against Castiel's prostate, and Cas was pretty sure he felt his knees start to give out.

Impatiently, Sam turned Castiel around to face him again. He pressed a rough kiss against his lips and leaned down to hook an arm around the back of his thighs, and then Cas was being lifted effortlessly off his feet. His back was braced against the wall as he wrapped his shaking legs around Sam's waist. Sam kept one hand on Castiel's thigh and used the other to line his cock up with Castiel's ready entrance. Without any warning he relaxed his grip on the other man and bucked his hips forward, thrusting up and Castiel slid down. Both men groaned loudly, and Sam braced his forearm against the wall and he started moving in Castiel with a steady rhythm. Cas didn't have the clarity to be ashamed of the noises that were pouring out of him as the thrusting picked up speed. Sam's fingers dug into his thigh as the thrusting gave way to rough, deliberate pounding. Reaching in between them, Castiel started stroking himself in rhythm, giving a hard tug to the end of his cock each time Sam pushed against that spot, and it wasn't long before he saw a flash of lights behind his eyes blinded him. He came harder than he had in years. When he came down he saw his come painting Sam's neck, and couldn't help but lean in and attempt to lick it clean.

Sam growled when he felt Castiel's tongue against his neck. He was close now, and when the pressure started to build he sunk his teeth into the shoulder in front of him. There was the taste of blood and he half choked, half sobbed his way through his orgasm. Somewhere in the white-hot bliss he ended up sliding out of Cas and sinking down to his knees, and Cas sank down with him, still wrapped around Sam's torso, his hands slipping through Sam's long hair.

They sat like that for a long while, breathing each other's air and clinging to each other's sweat soaked bodies. Castiel ended up resting his head on Sam's shoulder and hugging his body tightly, as if Sam were a giant teddy bear he couldn't bear to let go. After a considerable amount of time had passed, Sam pressed his lips to Castiel's forehead and made a move to get up.

"I have to go."

Castiel whimpered and tightened the grip of both his arms and legs. Sam sighed and untangled himself easily from Castiel's spider monkey embrace.

"Don't," Cas begged, as Sam began collecting his clothes. "Stay with me. Dean will let you stay." Sam looked over his shoulder at the crack in Castiel's voice and saw tears falling unashamedly down his friend's face. "You don't have to do this, Sam."

"Yes I do," Sam whispered. He dressed quietly, then walked over and knelt by Cas, who was still curled up in a puddle on the floor.

"I am so sorry Cas."

Their parting kiss was more tender than the ones before it had been, and Castiel recognized the human part of Sam had come back to his eyes. There was an odd comfort in that, knowing that when Sam had whispered "Goodbye Castiel" into his ear before leaving the small hut, that nothing but the real Sam had been addressing him.

Castiel never told Dean that Sam had come to visit. When they recieved word that Lucifer had claimed his vessel, he acted as surprised as the rest of them. He also never told Dean how he had acquired the crescent shaped scar on his shoulder - the bite mark from Sam that never really healed. But sometimes, when he was alone, Castiel would run his fingers over the blemish, and think maybe, as long as it stayed there, some part of Sam Winchester would still be alive.


R&R