Words: 1152

Author's Note: This is my first chaptered fic in a long time. I'm sorry for any disjointedness, I'm not particularly in my right mind. This is mostly for myself, but it'll be kind of Sam/Cas I suppose. I have no idea where it'll end up at this point. This is unbeta'd and it will be chaptered!


Angels Are Watching Over You

Chapter 1: Withdrawal

Demon blood was a terrible addiction. Everyone knew that, but none so much as Sam. When he drank, sucking down the vile blood like a starving dog, it would burn. Not a pleasant burn, but like someone pressed hot iron to his organs as the new blood coursed through his veins.

But still, that horrid feeling was nowhere near as bad as not having demon's blood coursing through his veins. Burns he could handle - burns were nothing.

But the feeling of someone tearing off every piece of you and putting you back together over and over again. It was a terrible feeling and it hurt. It hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced, and he was afraid of it.

He was afraid of the blinding pain, and he was afraid of the hallucinations.

He was afraid to lose himself, to not know the hallucinations from reality. He wanted to stop - he did, but he was afraid. And Dean - he wouldn't understand. He knew Dean wouldn't.

Which was why Sam was crouched in the bathroom, shaking, and trying to unscrew the cap on a vial of Demon's blood he had nicked from Ruby before she had gone. Frustration and desperation creeped into him as his hands kept slipping and the pain got worse and worse.

A small sob of relief ripped from his throat as he finally uncapped the vial, tossing the contents back into his throat. He could already feel the pain lessening to a harsh burn and the shaking was already slowing.

The sobs didn't stop however. Shame creeped up from his belly, biting at him as he crawled closer to the motel shower, curling up within the small basin of the bottom. He hated himself and if Dean knew... Dean would hate him too.

Bile burned his throat and he felt like he could vomit, but he couldn't - the blood would come back up.

This feeling happened often when he was first introduced to Demon Blood. It had taken two months before he actually stopped vomitting the blood back up while his body was still accepting it into his system. Slowly the feeling wore off though.

But this time, it was different. Dean knew now and he wanted him to stop. He didn't know how though - how was he supposed to stop when it hurt so much.

Sam choked another sob, trying to hold the blood in his stomach. Her curled tighter, keeping his mouth clamped shut through the sobs that shook his body and the absolute self loathing that continued to torment his body.

In the end, the blood decided not to stay in his system. Sam leaned over the disgusting bowl of the motel's toilet and heaved the red-black substance into the bowl.

After the third heave, he realized someone was holding his lengthening hair out of his face, but he couldn't turn his face to look as bile and water a blood poured from his mouth. He felt like someone had set him on fire, but something pressed to the back of his neck was battling the flames.

And suddenly nothing was left in his stomach, but he body was still trying to reject what he had swallowed. The dry-heaves were painful and made his throat burn and his ribs ache.

He didn't know how long he was heaving, but he was glad when they stopped. His body ached, but the blood... He flushed the contents of the toilet, pressing his eyes shut. The pain from the withdrawal would not doubt come soon - within an hour, two if he was lucky.

Sam was startled when he heard a voice sound from behind him. "You should be alright now, Samuel," a rough, low voice stated. He gave a small jump, not expecting his brother's angel to even be near him.

"Thank you, Cas," Sam murmured, voice rough and scratchy. He shyed away from the angel, not wanting to force the Angel to be near him. Dean had probably asked the being to check on him or something. Sam murmured an apology, brushing the long hair out of his face. It stayed slicked back with the sweat that had previously made them stick awkwardly to his forehead.

Sam gave a small smile, not looking up at the Angel.

But Cas continued to stare at him, watching Sam's every move, even as the tall, lanky man fiddles with the empty vial for a moment before recapping it and standing.

He watched at the young man stumbled, holding onto the sink to right himself, never looking the angel in the face. He stayed within the bathroom for a moment until he heard a crash within the room.

Cas sighed when he saw Sam had stumbled over and fallen - he was not a very elegant man when he was sick... Cas contemplated taking away the man's pain but he rather felt the young man deserved it.

It was Sam's fault for drinking the blood in the first place. He was an abomination. But he couldn't really think that when Sam had simply curled in on himself instead of trying to move again. He couldn't when a small sob choked from the youngest Winchester and he realized that he had been trying not to cry in front of him.

Cas was at a loss of what to do. This young man was obviously suffering, but he did not know whether or not he should help him. He had done so much wrong - so much that the Angels did not want him in the picture any longer.

He gave a sigh, pulling the young Winchester up like the tall man weighed little more than a feather. Startled, Sam had clung to him, a sob escaping from his broke-n concentration. Castiel set him in one of the beds, closest to the both of them.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured and he could feel the heaviness in the boy's words and the genuine sorrow.

Castiel frowned, "What are you apologizing for...?" Sam curled up again, making himself almost impossibly small compared to his normal height. Tears were welling in the young one's eyes and Cas settled next to Sam on the bed, sitting and brushing away some of the tears that had fallen.

Sam was so desperate not to be a bad person. He just wanted everyone to be safe and he thought, he believed, that what he was doing was right. Somewhere though, it had become a desperate need to not be in pain.

But maybe he deserved the pain.

Cas scowled when Sam didn't answer, but his brow furrowed when the tall lanky man began shaking. He pressed a hand against Sam's forehead, feeling a fever start to develop under Sam's skin. He did not look healthy at all, but this was beyond him.

Castiel was at a loss for the first time in a long time...