The bunker was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fireplace. Castiel sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs of the library, an ancient tome on his lap. Sam was curled up on a couch across from him, the scratching of his pen on the sketchbook resting on his knees barely audible. They both enjoyed these quiet moments when there was no hunt, Dean was singing off key in the garage to his tapes and they had time to just relax.
Castiel sighed and looked up from his book, watching Sam scribbling in his sketchbook. It was something Sam had started a while ago when their lives started to slow down a little, Castiel noticed. He tilted his head a little and watched Sam for a few more moments until he looked down at his book again. But before he could even finish the first sentence, he heard Sam softly clear his throat and say: “Cas?”
Castiel looked up again to find Sam staring at his sketchbook, tapping irregularly with his pen. “Yes, Sam?”, he asked.
“Do you remember what Lucifer looked like?”, Sam asked, still not looking up.
Castiel hesitated, somewhat taken aback by the question.
“Why do you ask?”
A chill ran through Castiel, fear for his friend creeping up inside him and making the hair on his neck stand.
“I never told anyone but the visions I had, I knew it wasn't Lucifer.”
“Oh?”, Castiel said and watched Sam, who just smiled lightly and with a shake of his head started to work on his sketchbook again.
“It was Michael. That's what he did, disguised himself as Lucifer and tortured me. Lucifer never did.”, Sam continued.
Castiel tilted his head slightly and furrowed his brows.
“Torture me, I mean. It was always Micheal. Sometimes he got bored...Lucifer was there. He couldn't do much, I guess the second Fall took too much out of him. But he was there.”, Sam said and slowly stopped scribbling in his sketchbook. He set it aside and uncurled himself, took his feet of the couch. Eyes locked on the floor he smiled. It was a sad smile Castiel noticed.
“He...”, Sam started but then shook his head and stood up. “I'll go see what Dean is up to.”
After Sam had left the room Castiel slowly closed his book, laid it on the small coffee table and picked up the sketchbook Sam had left behind.
It was the most accurate drawing of an angels true form he had ever seen.
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