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SPN fic - "Same Time, Same Place" - Sam, Castiel
OMG SOMEONE POSTED THE NETWORK TREATMENT OF "THE RAPTURE". It's like getting new canon! It's like my birthday! A Novak-filled post is surely inevitable, but first, let's talk about Sam.
Apparently I'm back in COMMENTFIC WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME mode. (I doubt I have any other kind of mode, to be honest.) Here is Commentfic #1 from the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ohsam commentfic meme, touched up for reposting.
Same Time, Same Place
Supernatural. Sam, Castiel. PG.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vail_kagami's prompt: "Cas desperately needs to power up a lot and often to fight his war, and the soul of Lucifer's vessel is the most powerful one around. Sam helps him willingly, but it's still extremely unpleasant and draining." ~850 words
"Okay," Sam says, and swallows. He looks away. "Okay, but don't tell Dean."
+
After it's over, there are always a few moments of panic where Sam thinks the world has finally managed to end itself. All the pain, fire, and whatever it is that makes an angel had so consumed him that when the fury of it recedes, the absence is violent, vertiginous. The first time they did this, Sam threw up over the side of the bed, threw up until he dry-heaved, and eventually the world did stop spinning. Eventually the burn inside him did fade.
Sam has come to recognize the times when Castiel would appear. Dean'd be out getting dinner or negotiating a supply of bullets, and there would be a sudden gust of wind, the sound of wingbeats. He almost expects the caw of a bird. This time, Sam is washing his socks in the sink with the door open when Castiel appears in the motel room, sudden aberration in the landscape. Sam looks up and meets his eyes in the mirror.
"Sam, I'm sorry," says Castiel, with that same old sorrow in his eyes.
Sam leaves the socks in the sink. "You say 'I'm sorry' like 'hello' these days."
"Hello."
He tells himself to not be afraid.
+
Maybe this is what Hell was like. Maybe this is what the Cage was like, Lucifer raging and raging inside him, trying to claw a way out, knock it all down. Sam doesn't remember any of it and has only glimpsed flashes of it in dreams, perhaps, if those were in fact what they were. Then again, they could just be run-of-the-mill nightmares. He can't tell. Sam hasn't been able to differentiate between memory and nightmares for years now.
It lasts for a minute. It lasts for an eternity. His chest is the epicenter of a great unraveling, and Castiel looms over him like some terrifying creature, his true form leaking out of Jimmy Novak's body. Even when Sam closes his eyes, he can't escape the afterimages - six wings made of lightning, the roar of ancient beasts, a thousand eyes, a thousand spinning wheels. And all of this, all of it, burning him up from the inside. It is greedy for him and demands entrance. The word 'stop' is on the tip of Sam's tongue. He cannot speak.
The aftermath leaves them drained: Sam lies on the bed and watches Castiel stumble backwards and collapse into a chair. They are breathless, disparate once more, and Sam has always thought it funny how Castiel looks the most human, the most vulnerable, after he just finished doing the most unhuman of acts. 'Funny'. He'll think of a better word later.
Sam's hand is shaking. He makes a fist to still it.
Castiel says, "Are you--"
"I'm fine," Sam says, and it's possibly a lie. There is never a physical mark on him after these things - and Sam has checked, just to be sure - but he always feels violated in some irreparable way. He suddenly wants Dean by his side. He suddenly misses Jessica, who is never far from his thoughts. He wants her hand on his cheek, her lips on his. He wants what is familiar and human.
Castiel has touched his soul, and what does that even mean? Has Castiel seen him laid bare, then - all his secrets, all his dark proclivities, the desires he never admits he still has? If he does, Castiel treats him no different, but Sam doesn't know whether this soothes him or makes it worse. Sam Winchester, angelic pit-stop. Better than demonic meatsuit, at least.
"Is this..." Sam's throat is dry. It hurts to speak. "Is this what the other angels do? Does Balthazar have his own personal soul-charger too?"
Castiel just looks at him and Sam can't parse the expression. Anger? Sadness? Three years of this guy popping in and out of their lives, and Sam doesn't feel like he understands Castiel any better. The past year has only seen him grown more mercurial. Castiel may not be able to undo a year's worth of mortality, but perhaps even a year is not enough. In him, humanity is transliterated. The cues are all wrong. Sam doesn't understand Castiel's loyalty to them. On some days, Sam thinks he fears it, and some days he thinks they both fear it.
From outside comes the unmistakable rumble of the Impala pulling up.
"I have to go," Castiel rasps, to the surprise of exactly no one.
Sam makes himself sit up on the bed and rubs his face with one hand. "Yeah," he mutters. "Fine."
"Sam."
Sam looks up. From outside, the sound of a car door slamming shut.
"Thank you," Castiel says softly.
"I wish I knew what you were thanking me for."
Castiel frowns. "For letting me touch your soul."
"Yeah, not that. You know what I mean."
And Castiel does; Sam can see it in his eyes.
The angel looks away and says, "Take care of yourself."
When Dean opens the door, Sam is alone.
Apparently I'm back in COMMENTFIC WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME mode. (I doubt I have any other kind of mode, to be honest.) Here is Commentfic #1 from the
ohsam commentfic meme, touched up for reposting.Same Time, Same Place
Supernatural. Sam, Castiel. PG.
Written for
vail_kagami's prompt: "Cas desperately needs to power up a lot and often to fight his war, and the soul of Lucifer's vessel is the most powerful one around. Sam helps him willingly, but it's still extremely unpleasant and draining." ~850 words"Okay," Sam says, and swallows. He looks away. "Okay, but don't tell Dean."
+
After it's over, there are always a few moments of panic where Sam thinks the world has finally managed to end itself. All the pain, fire, and whatever it is that makes an angel had so consumed him that when the fury of it recedes, the absence is violent, vertiginous. The first time they did this, Sam threw up over the side of the bed, threw up until he dry-heaved, and eventually the world did stop spinning. Eventually the burn inside him did fade.
Sam has come to recognize the times when Castiel would appear. Dean'd be out getting dinner or negotiating a supply of bullets, and there would be a sudden gust of wind, the sound of wingbeats. He almost expects the caw of a bird. This time, Sam is washing his socks in the sink with the door open when Castiel appears in the motel room, sudden aberration in the landscape. Sam looks up and meets his eyes in the mirror.
"Sam, I'm sorry," says Castiel, with that same old sorrow in his eyes.
Sam leaves the socks in the sink. "You say 'I'm sorry' like 'hello' these days."
"Hello."
He tells himself to not be afraid.
+
Maybe this is what Hell was like. Maybe this is what the Cage was like, Lucifer raging and raging inside him, trying to claw a way out, knock it all down. Sam doesn't remember any of it and has only glimpsed flashes of it in dreams, perhaps, if those were in fact what they were. Then again, they could just be run-of-the-mill nightmares. He can't tell. Sam hasn't been able to differentiate between memory and nightmares for years now.
It lasts for a minute. It lasts for an eternity. His chest is the epicenter of a great unraveling, and Castiel looms over him like some terrifying creature, his true form leaking out of Jimmy Novak's body. Even when Sam closes his eyes, he can't escape the afterimages - six wings made of lightning, the roar of ancient beasts, a thousand eyes, a thousand spinning wheels. And all of this, all of it, burning him up from the inside. It is greedy for him and demands entrance. The word 'stop' is on the tip of Sam's tongue. He cannot speak.
The aftermath leaves them drained: Sam lies on the bed and watches Castiel stumble backwards and collapse into a chair. They are breathless, disparate once more, and Sam has always thought it funny how Castiel looks the most human, the most vulnerable, after he just finished doing the most unhuman of acts. 'Funny'. He'll think of a better word later.
Sam's hand is shaking. He makes a fist to still it.
Castiel says, "Are you--"
"I'm fine," Sam says, and it's possibly a lie. There is never a physical mark on him after these things - and Sam has checked, just to be sure - but he always feels violated in some irreparable way. He suddenly wants Dean by his side. He suddenly misses Jessica, who is never far from his thoughts. He wants her hand on his cheek, her lips on his. He wants what is familiar and human.
Castiel has touched his soul, and what does that even mean? Has Castiel seen him laid bare, then - all his secrets, all his dark proclivities, the desires he never admits he still has? If he does, Castiel treats him no different, but Sam doesn't know whether this soothes him or makes it worse. Sam Winchester, angelic pit-stop. Better than demonic meatsuit, at least.
"Is this..." Sam's throat is dry. It hurts to speak. "Is this what the other angels do? Does Balthazar have his own personal soul-charger too?"
Castiel just looks at him and Sam can't parse the expression. Anger? Sadness? Three years of this guy popping in and out of their lives, and Sam doesn't feel like he understands Castiel any better. The past year has only seen him grown more mercurial. Castiel may not be able to undo a year's worth of mortality, but perhaps even a year is not enough. In him, humanity is transliterated. The cues are all wrong. Sam doesn't understand Castiel's loyalty to them. On some days, Sam thinks he fears it, and some days he thinks they both fear it.
From outside comes the unmistakable rumble of the Impala pulling up.
"I have to go," Castiel rasps, to the surprise of exactly no one.
Sam makes himself sit up on the bed and rubs his face with one hand. "Yeah," he mutters. "Fine."
"Sam."
Sam looks up. From outside, the sound of a car door slamming shut.
"Thank you," Castiel says softly.
"I wish I knew what you were thanking me for."
Castiel frowns. "For letting me touch your soul."
"Yeah, not that. You know what I mean."
And Castiel does; Sam can see it in his eyes.
The angel looks away and says, "Take care of yourself."
When Dean opens the door, Sam is alone.