Words: 634

AN: Sorry this is so late! Some actual Sam and Cas interactions in this one. Sorry that it's short.

Angels are Watching Over You

Chapter Three: Panic

When Sam awoke, he was in a small confined area. Well, not too small, but smaller than normal. He could hear the small swish of a fan and his body ached miserably.

It took Sam a moment to realize that the fan from overhead was the one he had seen in the panic room. It took him a moment longer to confirm his thoughts as the agonizing fire gripped him and the feeling of knives piercing his body took his sight away for a moment.

And he was so... thirsty.

Sam gave a cry as he pulled himself from the bed in the reinforced room. The first step he took was shaky, but he made it to the door. He wondered if something had attacked them while he was out because for some reason he could not see from one of his eyes. He had to lean against the iron door, composing himself and trying to push away the pain.

Moments later, he opened the door.

Or he tried to. The door was bolted shut, locked tight. He jiggled the handle and tugged hoping that the door was simply stuck. Panic rose in the pit of his stomach as he realized the door would not open.

"Dean!" he called desperately even though his throat ached. He didn't know how long he was calling, but his voice gave out and he stopped trying.

So he was locked in Bobby's panic room, tucked away like some freak of nature. He closed his eyes tight at the thought, heavy against his body. He knew he was. Maybe it was for the best that they had locked him away.

Sam was curled against the cold iron door when he heard a soft fluttering sound. He lifted his eyes, red with pain, to see the brown of the trench coat. Cas. He tried to call the Angel's name, but he couldn't even whimper with his throat scratched and raw.

He wanted to cry right at this moment, hoping that the angel would turn around and look at him. He nearly sobbed in relief when Cas turn, brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you on the floor?" He asked, stepping closer to the boy with demon blood

Sam couldn't answer though. He opened his mouth had gave a gave a cough. He curled in on himself, covering his mouth with his arms. It took a long moment of the violent barks to subside, but his throat hurt now more than ever. He pulled back, hands dripping with blood, and his face scrunched in disgust.

Cas moved over to him, pulling him from the floor. He could feel the hurt in his throat lessening, but only a little. He was pressed onto the bed by the (un)surprisingly strong angel. Sam gave another weak cough in response and curled halfway into himself.

"Cas," he croaked out, and the angel sat in the space Sam's large body didn't take up. His back was pressed to Sam's stomach, and he could feel the hot skin even through the layers of clothing between them.

"Shhh," he hushed the prone figure. Cas brushed his fingers against Sam's forehead, feeling the sweat from the fever and frowning. He couldn't heal this - a symptom of the withdrawal, but he could allow Sam to sleep through it. He brushed the sticky hair away from Sam's face. "Sleep now," he murmured, pressing his fingers briefly against Sam's forehead, coaxing him to unconsciousness with a simple brush of grace.

Sam gave a small whimper before dropping off, and Castiel tried not to think on it too much. But he couldn't help but stay to make sure Sam would wake up. He brushed his hands soothingly through Sam's hair, chasing away the pain and panic if only for a brief moment.