#itshellfiredean

dang, didn't see this til now (sorry!!) Urgh that user is always reposting and it's so OBVIOUS. I always just ignore normanna but sometimes you just want something to happen about it. I'll report her now!!

"Cas, I know he's an evil little dude, but you know he's not real, right?"

"He's a usurper, Sam. He thinks he has a right to take whatever he wants, and he doesn't even care that he hurts people." Cas glared at Sam in a way that made him a little uncomfortable.

"Well, yeah, he's a villain. That's kind of how it works."

"No, Sam, you don't understand. Joffrey betrays people. He attacks those who mean him no harm. It's his fault the Starks have to flee, and hide, and fight for their lives." Cas took a deep breath, and Sam's heart stopped as he realized what was going on. He took Cas's hands in his own, stroking them until his fists loosened.

"He reminds you of Metatron, doesn't he?" he asked quietly. Cas just nodded, the rage draining out of his face and replaced by a deep sadness.

I wasn’t following you either WHAT THE HELL I am glad we fixed that, and I am very not sorry about your conflicted feelings because ME, TOO, FRIEND.

The piece on his back was the most difficult, and it took him a long time to find an artist who could render it the way it needed to be done. It was important that the details be right. At first glance, it was a pair of dark wings folded against his back, falling from his shoulders all the way to his thighs. On closer inspection, each feather was carefully outlined in black and contained, in Enochian, inscribed in shades of red or green or purple, one name. The name of someone he'd hurt.

Some were family--Balthazar, Samandriel, the other angels he'd killed or betrayed or both. There were three feathers for the Novak family, and more for Bobby, Kevin, Ezekiel, Meg, anyone for whom he felt responsible. Anyone who weighed on his heart. There were many, many feathers.

Perhaps that was why it took so long for Sam to find his own name among them. But he had been studying Enochian almost as carefully as he had been studying Castiel's body, and as often as Cas would let him, he would lie in bed tracing the feathers with his fingers and his lips, sometimes reading the names out loud but more often not, more often simply pressing kisses through the ink and into Castiel's skin, blessings and love and absolution, insofar as it was his to give, and the promise that he would love Castiel completely and through all things, despite his past.

Sam found his feather one morning, just as the sun was coming up and they were both waking slowly, Cas hugging his pillow and Sam kissing lazy lines down his naked back along the edges of the wings. He discovered his feather near the tip of the left wing, almost hidden in the crease at the top of Castiel's thigh, where his body was soft and welcoming and where Sam's tongue drew sighs and moans from the angel with every touch. It was startling to meet himself there, not least because he hadn't known he was there at all.

"Cas?"

"Mhm."

"Is this...is this my name?" Sam traced the feather with his fingers.

"Yes. At least, I think so. That is the general area where I put you."

Sam sat up, pulling away from Cas's body so that the angel looked over his shoulder with a frown.

"What's wrong?"

"I just...I didn't know. I wish you'd asked before you put me in," Sam answered. Cas looked at Sam for a long moment before turning to face him, hiding his wings and sitting in front of Sam so that their legs almost touched.

"I didn't know it would upset you, Sam. You know I wanted to include as many of the people I hurt as I could. That it was important to me to carry them with me as reminders of what I owe them. Sam, how could you think that you aren't one of them? One of the most important?" He reached out his hand, but Sam kept his hands twisted together in his lap.

"Am I just someone you owe, Cas? Are you...are you trying to make it up to me? Is that why..." Sam trailed off, glancing at their pillows, crumpled and half on top of each other at the head of the bed, and Castiel followed his gaze in shock.

"No," he said, almost angrily. "Is that what you think of me? That I would be with someone in this way to settle a debt? That I would..." But he couldn't speak anymore, hurt and sadness and anger filling his throat and making his chest tight.

"You put me on your back, Cas. Like a burden. Another thing to feel guilty about."

"No," Castiel pushed a hand through his hair. "No, Sam, please don't think that. Please. You are so much to me, Sam. Please, tell me you know that."

But Sam could barely meet the angel's eyes. Cas knew, he knew from long experience how hard it was for Sam to believe how worthy and beautiful and loved he was, and he had tried so hard to love Sam the way he deserved and to make sure he knew it was the least he deserved. And now he'd fucked up, didn't know how to explain himself, how to convince Sam that he wasn't a burden or a debt. Both of their hearts were breaking. How do I fix this?

He loves me, Sam thought as Castiel pushed himself off the bed and started getting dressed. But love isn't supposed to be a debt, and Sam had spent too much of his life weighing people down. He started to panic as Cas headed for the door, but he didn't know what to say to stop him, and when Cas glanced over his shoulder to say he'd be back later, Sam just nodded. He kept thinking about the feather, about the purple ink and Cas's soft skin, and he wanted to chase after him, to unwrap him so he could see him again, to touch and kiss that spot until the ink faded away, to take away a small part of the weight of those dark wings. To tell Cas he was sorry, to ask Cas not to hurt for him.

It was a long morning, waiting for Cas to come home. When he finally did, Sam was in the library, hiding in Oz. Or trying to--he couldn't really remember what he'd read or the last time he'd turned a page. When Cas came in and knelt in front of him, Sam didn't put the book aside; he just held it in his hands, tight, afraid of what would come next.

Castiel didn't say anything; he just slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a fresh bandage on his chest. Sam's heart skipped a beat, thinking that he'd been injured, but as Cas peeled off the bandage, he realized he was wrong. It's wasn't a wound; it was a new tattoo.

It was just under the wing of a swallow that swooped low over Castiel's heart, in the spot where Sam liked to lay his head at night and listen to Cas's heartbeat. The skin around it was red, but the letters were clear. "S. W."

"Cas..."

"Sam, you're not a burden. You don't weigh me down, you never weigh me down. The wings...they're my past. You're my future, Sam." Cas choked on the words. Sam dropped the book in his haste to reach out and take his hands, and Cas clung to him. "Please say you understand."

Sam leaned forward and put a hand on the back of Cas's neck, pressing their foreheads together.

"I understand, Cas. I really, really do," he said, kissing him deeply, murmuring apologies and reassurances against his lips.

"Good," Cas laughed between kisses. "Because this one really fucking hurt."