#stanfordsammy

"Sam, what the Hell!" Sam heard his brother before he saw him, but he didn't sound happy. Groaning, he stood up as straight as he could, it wasn't that easy but he tried. Dean appeared in front of him, scowl on his face.

"I called you for help, where the Hell were you?" Dean demanded. Had he called? Sam hadn't heard him, maybe he'd called when Sam had been thrown into the tree. Maybe he just had a concussion and forgot Dean had yelled his name.

"Sorry, man, the ghost caught up with me," Sam mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He must've been hit harder than he thought, it was really starting to hurt.

"Caught up with you? Sam, I was digging up the damn things grave!" Dean yelled. Before Sam could even reply, Dean turned away. "You know what, man, forget it. Just lets get back to the motel."

They didn't speak on the way back to the motel. Dean didn't even say anything when they got back in, just went to sleep. Sam felt guilty, he should have been there to help his brother. But no, because of a petty little argument, they had to split up in the grave yard, Dean had to be the one to find the grave while Sam got beat to Hell. It was still so fucking painful, Sam couldn't go to bed without checking the damage.

Lifting up his shirt, he could see he had bruised ribs. Fuck, that was gonna put him out of action for a few days at least. Would Dean care that he was hurt? Probably not, not with the way he'd been acting lately. Sam bandaged himself up and crawled into bed. It barely took a minute before he was asleep.

Dean didn't ask about the bandages. He didn't ask why Sam was struggling to breath, or even why Sam refused to go out. Nope, he just shrugged it off and continued with his life. Sam didn't care, or at least that's what he told himself. Instead, he tried to carry on doing what they did best; save people.

Ruby sent him a text message telling him a seal was about to be broken a town over. Even though Dean didn't trust her, he couldn't ignore the looming apocalypse. Well, not after Sam pointed out so many clear omens that there were demons nearby. So they set off on the hour drive to Kinsville, Dean driving and Sam laying down in the back seat. Again, Dean didn't ask Sam what was wrong so Sam continued to ignore his brother and try to sleep off the pain.

They pulled up to an abandoned barn. Silence. Then came a shrill cry from inside.

Sam and Dean sprung into action, darting into the decrepit barn. In the centre, there was a young girl pinned to the floor surrounded by five men. As the Winchesters burst through the doors, all five looked up, eyes glinting black. Demons. Without thinking, Sam began reciting an exorcism, but the lead demon gave a feral grin.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you Winchester?" He snarled. A fresh scar peered out from under the guys sleeve - the same scar Meg gave him years ago - the demons were locked into their bodies. Sam's stomach dropped.

Dean charged at the group, tackling the closest demon to them. The rest fought back instantly, one pulling Dean off of the first guy and another pinning him to the floor beside the girl. Sam lunged towards them, knife in hand. It was the only weapon he could use, his power was slipping since Castiel had warned him against using them. He didn't want to stab the demon, he didn't, but he had no choice. Red flashes of light pulsed through the demons veins as Sam plunged the knife into his chest. Dean was preoccupied with the two demons who had him on the ground, but the other two had turned their attention back to the girl. Fuck.

"Sam! Get her outta here!" Dean grunted. Sam took a second to breath, pain radiating out of his ribs, before continuing in action. With a single punch, he knocked one of the demons away and pulled the girl up off the floor. It was getting hard to breathe, the bandages were constricting his chest but the bruises were aching even more. With difficulty, he walked the girl to the door.

"Go wait by the car," Sam instructed. The girl nodded, limping towards the car. Sam turned back to the action, where Dean was struggling against the four demons still alive. Despite the black spots dancing around the edge of his vision, he rushed back over to help his brother.

"DEAN!" Sam garnered his brother's attention, throwing the demon knife straight towards him. Dean caught it and slashed one of the demons necks. The man immediately fell to the floor, but the brothers were still battling on against the others.

There was lull as the demon was mourned, but it didn't give Dean enough time to kill another. As he raised the knife to stab again, the demon in front of him caught his arm and twisted the knife away from his grip. It was lost to the floor, and kicked away from them before Sam could pick it up.

"Give it up. Give us the girl," the demon holding Dean growled out. The brothers looked at each other, panic running through both of their eyes.

The room was bathed in an electric blue light. In a second, the three demons dropped to the ground and the light faded. In the centre of the carnage stood Castiel, a sheer look of anger on his face. Dean relaxed, huffing out a long breath. He began to laugh, as if they hadn't nearly just died.

"You took your damn time," Dean grumbled at Cas, but he was still wearing a smile.

"I didn't know you were in danger. Why did neither of you pray to me?" Castiel chided them. Exactly what Sam needed, another lecture from the angel. He held his side, hoping to stop the pain striking through his side until he could find some painkillers. Cas seemed preoccupied in clearing the dead bodies, but turned to Sam when sensed him move.

"What is that? Are there bandages under your shirt?"

Sam began to shift, arm still pressed to his side. He hated this. The feeling that Cas knew his every move, his every thought. He felt so vulnerable around him, like he was a child again. The intense glare from Castiel gave Sam no option but to reveal his injury. With some hesitation, Sam lifted the edge of his shirt to show the bandages underneath.

"Dean, take the girl home," Cas commanded. Dean tried to protest, but Cas chose to ignore him. Instead, he grabbed Sam's arm and flew them back to the motel.

Before Sam had a chance to catch his breath, Castiel had pushed him down onto the bed. He didn't know what to say, how to break the silence. Despite Sam's feelings for the angel, he still felt confused and awkward around Cas. Thankfully, Cas seemed busy as he paced around the room. The silence hung in the air, stuffy and thick, but Sam could not start a conversation. Instead, he watched Cas stumble around.

"Sam," Castiel started, stopping in his tracks. He turned his full attention back to Sam, staring so intently at Sam began to squirm. "Why are there bandages under your shirt?"

"It's nothing really," Sam laughed it off. "Just got a bit banged up on our last hunt." He moved his arms back to his sides, trying to cover the bandages. It still hurt to breathe, but it was slowly alleviating.

"A bit banged up?" Castiel repeated. He leaned in close to Sam's face. "You have cracked two of your ribs. How?"

"A ghost threw me against a gravestone," Sam shrugged. It wasn't like it didn't happen all the time, for God's sake he'd come back from the dead, Sam couldn't understand why Cas was so bothered about it. "Look, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. It just needs a little time and-"

"We don't have time, Sam," Castiel growled. The bulb in the bedside lamp exploded, fading the light in the room. Sam's eyes lingered on the smouldering light; he forgot how powerful Castiel could be. Cas gently grabbed hold of Sam's face and made him look straight at him. "The seals are breaking fast and we need you at your best." The penny dropped. The angels only wanted Sam healthy so he could help them.

"Yeah because that's all I'm good for, right? Stopping seals from being broken?" Cas stood back, removing himself from Sam's space. He looked shocked - sad even.

"No, Sam, because you're in danger," Cas said stoically, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "You need to be able to protect yourself, otherwise you'll end up hurt."

"And why do you care?" Sam snapped. "I thought I was the bane of Heaven. Hell, Uriel threatened to kill me himself."

"They might not care about you, but I do," Cas whispered gently. It took a second for Sam to process, but he guessed it made sense. He swallowed and nodded, and Cas smiled in return. It could have been the first time Castiel had ever smiled, it was certainly the first time Sam had seen it. With the lull in the room, Castiel returned to Sam's side and gestured for him to take his shirt of. Sam carefully undid the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders.

Down Sam's side were bruises of all colours, vibrant purples and emerald greens. Pain exploded every time he moved, and the bandages cutting into his side didn't help in the slightest. Cas began to unwind the bandages from around Sam's chest, revealing a slight swelling around Sam's ribs. As Cas brushed his finger tips over the bruising, Sam winced. It was like it was hurting more and more as time went on. Cas flashed a sympathetic expression, but ran his hand over the injury again. His palm glowed a bright blue, and Sam could feel the pain leaving his body. He nodded his thanks to Castiel.

"Tell me, why did you not inform Dean of your injuries?" Cas asked. Sam shrugged, he doubted Cas would understand the petty arguments him and Dean had. Before he answered, Sam began to pull on a clean shirt.

"I tried, but I mean he's pissed with me as is," Sam chuckled to himself. He began buttoning up the shirt, not seeing Cas' confused face.

"And telling him you're hurt would upset him more?" Sam could admit it didn't make sense, well not to anyone else. Inside the Winchester's mixed up, muddled up, shook up world it made a whole lot of sense. More sense then the battle between Heaven and Hell they'd been pulled into anyway. Sam searched his mind for a logical answer for Cas.

"Dean's got more important things to deal with," he settled on.

"I don't see what could be more important than you," Castiel replied. He settled his hand on Sam's thigh, stroking his leg tenderly.

The door burst open, and though him and Cas weren't doing anything, Sam flung himself to the other side of the bed. To Sam's surprise, it didn't cause Sam any pain like it would have done only an hour before, and again Sam nodded his thanks at Cas.

"You mind telling me what the Hell that was all about," Dean demanded, throwing his duffle onto the ground by the door. There was a vein bulging in his forehead, Sam thought he might actually explode. He was about to apologise before Cas interrupted.

"What?" Cas asked, so casually that Sam couldn't believe it.

"You, flying off with Sam and leaving me to clean the mess!" There was the explosion. Dean shrugged his jacket off and dumped it on the chair. He refused to even turn to look at Sam, hands gripping the kitchen table so tight that Sam could see his shoulders tense. Beside him, Cas softly hummed before once again answering for Sam.

"Your brother was injured, Dean, he needed healing," Castiel said. The strain in Dean's shoulders immediately melted and he turned around with a soft expression on his face.

"What do you mean injured?" He questioned, eyes scanning over Sam's body.

"He had two cracked ribs and bruising all over his torso," Cas explained, shooting Sam a pointed look. He got a similar glance from Dean, wide eyed and scowling.

"Sammy?" He asked through gritted teeth. Sam couldn't quite meet Dean's eye, knowing the lecture he was in for. How could you not tell me Sam? Do you know how stupid that was Sam? Are you even listening to me Sam? He could do without it. To his surprise, Dean only asked him the one question. "Why didn't you tell me?" He shrugged.

"You seemed preoccupied."

"You idiot," Dean sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. "This was serious, how could you think I was too preoccupied for it?" A hundred and one reasons came to mind, like the looming apocalypse or the fact Dean had been too pissed to talk to him. Sam didn't say anything though, instead he let the silence sit and stir. Dean probably figured that out anyway, he turned away from Sam looking somewhat sheepish. Cas, for once, managed to sense the tension in the room and jumped in.

"Well, I have healed the damage," Cas announced. Dean looked up, his eyes darting between Castiel and Sam's torso. "I think I should stay anyway." There was something short of a grunt that came from Dean. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, instead grumbling something about grabbing a shower. With his wash bag in hand, he quickly disappeared into the bathroom. It left Sam and Cas alone in the bedroom.

Sam perched on his bed and clicked on the TV. There wasn't a lot on, never was. Motels were known for their crappy reception, and so Sam settled for some Spanish soap opera. Cas tilted his head, watching the screen carefully. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, his thighs just brushing Sam's. It sent a shiver up Sam's spine, and Sam couldn't concentrate on whatever drama was unfolding on TV. Cas seemed to notice he was being watched, so he muted the TV and turned to Sam.

"Sam, if you're ever injured like this again, please pray to me," Cas said. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but Cas hadn't really stopped fussing since they'd gotten home.

"Cas, I'm fine, don't worry about me." Cas narrowed his eyes.

"I can't help it," he bit out, almost like an accusation. "You Winchesters have gotten under my skin. Barely a moment goes by when I'm not thinking about you." Sam's eyes widened, he quickly darted his line of sight away from Castiel's face.

"That's nice," he smiled. He was trying not to get his hopes up, he knew Cas was talking about them both talking about them as friends. Even though his heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, he was trying to stop any attraction he had to Cas.

"What is it that humans do to show affection?" Cas asked. Sam's heart stopped.

"Well typically we hug," Sam explained. The melodrama on TV flipped scenes, to a couple who were making out. It was hot and heavy, the woman was pressed up against the wall and her knees were weak. Sam gestured to the TV. "If we really want to show someone we're in love with them, we kiss them." Cas glanced at the TV, then immediately back at Sam. His pupils were dilated, the usual blue disappearing under the pupils.

"Like this?" Cas asked quietly, before pressing his mouth against Sam's.

It wasn't like on the TV, he wasn't pressed against the wall and his knees weren't collapsing under him. But the passion was there. Fireworks were going off in Sam's head, there was a angel choir singing somewhere he was sure of it. Cas held his face in a gentle caress, nothing but soft touches and kindness.

It was perfect.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, am I interrupting something here?" Dean was stood leaning against the bathroom door, a smug look on his face. Sam pushed Cas away from him and offered Dean an awkward smile. He'd never told Dean he was bisexual, he had no idea how he would react.

"Dean, I-I-"

"Sammy, relax, I don't care," Dean chuckled. He strutted into the room and sat on the bed opposite to Sam and Cas. He rubbed his hair with a towel, drying it off. "Just for God's sake use protection." Cas gave Sam a confused look, and Sam shook his head as if to say he'd explain later.

Cas suddenly tensed and he let out a deep breath.

"I must go, the host is calling me," Cas explained. Before Sam could even protest, Cas disappeared into thin air. Sam stared longingly at the blank space he left behind.

Dean stole the remote off of Sam's bed and turned the soap opera back onto full volume. He didn't bother getting dressed, sitting back against the headboard of his bed with just his towel wrapped around his waist. Sam followed suit, laying back against his own pillow. There was a silence in the room, but Sam was good ignoring it for as long as possible. He wasn't looking forward to the comments Dean was going to make.

"So loverboy?" Dean had the biggest, shit eating grin on his face. Sam groaned.

"Dean, drop it please."