Sam woke up in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar presence on the other side of the room. He stayed calm, didn’t let his breathing give away that he was awake. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and looked over, only to find that it was only Castiel, who he just wasn’t used to yet but who wasn’t dangerous. He was sitting on a chair by Dean’s bed, and he seemed deep in thought. 

Maybe not dangerous, but creepy. “Why are you watching my brother sleep?” Sam asked, sitting up in bed. 

Castiel looked at Sam and didn’t answer. He got up from his chair though and crossed the room to sit on the edge of Sam’s bed. 

“Sam.”

Sam scooted slightly away. “…Yeah?”

“I’ve been intending to ask you this. Now that we have a minute alone, I’d like to use the opportunity.”

Oh, God. Is it about demon blood or his impurity or his starting of the apocalypse?

“Why does Dean call you ‘she’?”

“W-What?”

“I comprehend that physically you appear to be a she. Strangers call you she. But has Dean not seen your soul yet after all this time?”

Sam’s head was spinning. Cas knew? Cas knew?

“My … my soul?” Sam asked, mouth dry. 

“Yes. It’s quite bright, actually. And it’s a he.”

Really? That was so validating, and so freaky, and so humiliating. “How can you tell?”

“It’s obvious. In the same way that I know I’m a he, and that this body would suit me, I know that you’re a he. Dean is a he. I just know.”

“Okay, well—“ Sam took a deep breath. “It doesn’t work that way down here, alright? Dean can call me she. It’s fine.”

Castiel tilted his head. “But that is not what you wish to be called.”

How was he able to read him, just like that? Sam couldn’t deny it. He nodded. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not ready to tell Dean,” Sam explained. He left out the part about how he’d never be ready. He was as fucked up as it was without this thing to add too. “Can you just pretend we didn’t have this conversation?”

“Very well.” After a beat, Castiel awkwardly laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder before getting up and promptly returning to his chair.