Evelyn

You obviously kept it a secret. Curiosity, in most angel’s eyes, was close to doubt and they were right. As time went by, you started doubting, you started becoming more and more human.

There were few angels that would understand, one of them was your dearest brother: Castiel. He didn’t doubt yet, he still feared, but you saw in his eyes a spark of curiosity from the moment he first saved that Winchester boy, and that made him your favorite. So today, as his call came, you answered.

You appeared in some sort of basement in the middle of South Dakota. In front of you were two men and one angel.

“Hello sister.”

“Good morning, Cass. Do you need something?” He looked at the men beside him.

“Dean, Bobby, this is my sister” he said your name.

“Dean Winchester and Robert Singer, it is a pleasure to meet you.” You extended your hand and shook theirs with polite confidence.

“So, you do know social cues.” Dean said.

You laughed. “Yes, well, I have been in Earth a bit longer than my dear brother. I descended from heaven in 1968.”

“Rough time.” Bobby muttered.

“Indeed. That is exactly why I came. I am a protector of mankind and it hurt to watch everything from heaven without at least trying to help a bit.” You paused after the sincere moment. “So, gentleman, what do you need from me?”

Dean breathed deep. You could smell the nerves coming out of his body. “You see, my brother Sam…he has a problem.”

“Yes, I have heard.”

“So, you know about the demon blood.”

“I am aware your brother has been taking demon blood to enhance the psychic powers the demon Azazel gave him, am I wrong?

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, well, news travel fast and I tend to keep an eye on Castiel and, therefore, you troublemakers.”

“Cass said you might know how to help. That true?” His voice broke a bit. “It’s just…please, please the withdrawal is making him sick and I can’t help him, it’s-it’s killing me not being able to cure him. Please, please help him.” You placed a hand on his arm to ground him.

“It’s okay, calm down. There is a solution. It would make him stop craving demon blood forever, but it would require a lifelong treatment.”

Hope filled his eyes. “Well, what is it?”

“You see, where demon blood is like venom, angel blood is more like… medicine, it is one of the purest things in the universe and it can cure one’s body. It won’t make him powerful like a demons’, but it would protect him from ever wanting to consume it. That’s what I clearly know, but I don’t know about any other effects it could have. This, however, is not a detox, it could still cause an addiction. Addictions are behavioral, they are one’s choice. I can’t change that.”

“So, you want to, what? Change his drug basically?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. This “drug” he’s taking is destroying him. Look, I will give him mine personally, think of it like taking medication for a chronic disease. You must take it every day, but it cures you.” Despite the justification, both Dean and Bobby still seemed skeptical. “Look, Dean, I know it’s scary, and I know it hurts to see your brother be like this, Father knows if I had to watch Cassie in this situation it would pain me greatly. However, this is the best solution I am aware of. It’s all I can give.” They seemed to relax with that. “Look, I love humans. You are my father’s creation, hurting you would be blasphemy. I just want to help. But I respect your wishes and Sam’s and I won’t do anything you don’t want.” Your voice was kind and soft, Dean couldn’t help but melt. He was stressed and angry with his brother and himself for not protecting him, hearing that comforting tone made him trust her. He had hope.

“Okay.” He finally said. “I am going to ask Sam.”

He opened a door in the back of the wall. You could see a tall figure inside a hidden room, you assumed it was Sam. You turned to Cass.

“I missed you, Cassie.” You hugged him. That always seemed to surprise him. As you had mentioned, he had lived among humans for much less time and wasn’t as used to these displays of affection.

“I missed you too, dear sister.”

“I see taking care of the Winchesters Is proving to be difficult.” You looked at both Cass and Bobby. The last one chuckled.

“Tell me about it. Those idjits have been trouble since they were born.” The fatherly tone those words carried made you smile. You wished you could hear Father speak in that tone. A hidden part of yourself wished he spoke about you. Wished he spoke to you. How could He let humans suffer like you had seen Dean suffer for his brother? How could He leave his children alone? You decided not to think about it, those thoughts only made you sad and confused. Your attention rapidly changed when the door to the little room opened.

“You can come in.” Dean offered.

As you entered you discovered a circular chamber filled with protective sigils. There were books in the walls, a little table, and a bed where the tall man was seated.

“Sam?” You presented yourself with your name. “I have come here to help you. I understand Dean told you how.”

“He did.” He looked pale, tired and had a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite describe as something else than light madness. It saddened you to see him like this. Humans were beautiful creatures, full of life and joy. Human smiles were fascinating. You wondered how such a simple movement could change so many things. It could make one laugh, cry or fall in love. Sam looked anything but happy and you, as a protector of humanity (and therefore of their happiness) took it as your mission to cure him so you could see him smile. “Thank you.”

“What for? It is my duty to help you.” His eyes somehow lost a bit of that sadness as he gained a similar reaction to Dean’s. It seemed these boys hadn’t had a lot of gentleness in their lives, but you had plenty to spare. “Dean,” you turned and looked at him “could you leave us alone for a moment?”

“Sure. Thank you” he said your name and left closing the door.

“Well, I have obviously never done this before, so I don’t really know how it’s going to feel. So, I want you to be as comfortable as possible in case it kind of feels bad or something- “you saw fear in his eyes “which I sincerely doubt it will.”

“Okay.” His voice was soft, but unlike yours, it was born of exhaustion and pain. He sat further on the bed and looked at his side as if he was inviting you to take the place. You did.

“I think it would be best if you laid down.” He did. You approached his frame and sat beside his hips. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” You took off your coat and your angel blade. You placed the garment at the foot of the bed and the knife on your thighs. Sam was enchanted by your movements, they seemed slow and careful. You handled everything with a sweetness and attention that, in his state, made him almost jealous of the blade.

You took the sleave of your shirt and folded it. Then you placed the knife against your wrist. Finally, you made an incision and watched as bright red blood started to make its way out. With the same meticulous care with which you handled everything you put your wrist against his lips. He looked at you, his eyes filled with shyness at the strangely intimate atmosphere as if asking for permission. You nodded. He dove right in.

At first the taste surprised him. It was very different from a demon’s blood’s. Where it had been more flavored, almost salty, this one was like sweet water. It tasted pure and clean; it filled his mouth so gently like those candies that melted in your tongue. It made tingles travel from his nose to his neck and down his spine leaving a trace of goosebumps. It was a hundred times better than demon’s blood. It was a million times better than anything he had ever tasted. His heart started beating faster, his senses regained their precision. He now could smell her: vanilla, clean; he could hear her breathing: low and deep; and he could feel her smooth skin under the tips of the fingers that had engulfed her little -by comparison- forearm so naturally. He opened his eyes, and he was met with an extraordinary view.

You stood with your eyes closed and brows furrowed, your chest raised slowly, and he could see the outlines of your breasts trembling as it did. You seemed as lost in the feeling as he was. Finally, he felt satisfied and let go of your wrist.

You gradually opened your eyelids as he stood and returned to the seated position. His face was now so close to yours you could smell your blood in his mouth. He now could almost taste that vanilla his nose had noticed. He then started to focus on the features he hadn’t cared to note in his previous state. He observed your eyelashes and their gentle curve, your neat eyebrows, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks and their gentle blush, your chin and its perfect curvature and finally, your lips. They looked so singular to him, he thought he had never seen lips with such a soft texture and beautiful color. They looked as if you had bitten them. He didn’t know why, maybe it was because of the intimate act you just had shared, maybe it was because of those attributes he had just noticed, but he felt something push him to place his lips against hers and their perfect shape.

While he was busy looking at you, you were frozen on the spot. Your wrist had already healed, and you were a bit lightheaded. You looked at his face and saw a mole on the side of his nose. You don’t know why but it was the first thing that caught your attention. You loved that about humans: moles. They were so unique, it reminded you of how diverse and special each person could be. Unlike angels, humans were more peculiar. They had desires and feelings, different thoughts, distinctive features. You don’t know why, but you suddenly had the urge to kiss it. And you did.

You closed the space between you two and kissed his mole. Sam closed his eyes, he felt you everywhere. In his hand that now rested in your shoulder gently as if he was touching something precious, in his mind that now held all the data his senses were receiving, inside his veins pumping and fighting the pain and suffering. You were everywhere like a bubble of intimacy and sweet care.

You finally parted and looked at him with a shy smile. God, he was fucked. “You should go upstairs and get some rest.” You tried to avoid acknowledging the sudden act of boldness. He nodded; he didn’t think he could speak right now.

The next day you returned to Bobby’s house and repeated the action and, after a week, it became a routine. You also started to get to know the boys. The need to be close to Sam grew uncontrollably. Day after day, you spent your time trying to fight the urge to bury your lips in his skin, to feel its warmth, to sense its smell.

The stress of the job usually helped him forget. He found solace in endless lore, interviews, and hunts. They gave him something else to focus on. They also gave Dean a reason to stay by his side. Oh, and they gave him the perfect excuse to keep you close.

Sam hated himself for it. You and Dean were the two most important people in his life, and he was dangerous. The things that wanted him were dangerous. Still, the need was stronger than his conscience. He loved you and he couldn't let go.

This afternoon, however, you and the boys had wrapped up the hunt much faster than expected. It had turned out to be nothing more than a simple salt-and-burn. So Sam found himself alone in the motel bathroom, unable to quiet his thoughts.

Back when he was a kid, the bathroom had been the only place where he could find privacy. The only place where he could escape John's critical stare, where he could feel clean after long, violent days. He would take long showers and let the warm water boil away the dirt and blood until it turned cold, the chill eventually soothing his mind. Dean would often tease him when he got out, making jokes about "taking care of his little problems" and using all the hot water. It had embarrassed him at the time, but it had also confirmed just how much comfort he found inside that room. So, even now, the bathroom remained one of the places where he felt safest.

Dean had gone to some bar you had passed on the way to an interview to “gift the woman of the town with his precious talents.” You, on the other hand, had gone for a walk, as you always did when you had free time.

Sam normally would have joined you. He liked how happy those simple walks made you. He liked the casual conversations you shared and he loved watching you walk. Loved the way you seemed to breathe differently when you weren't surrounded by creatures, weapons, and the constant threat of death. He loved your easy smile, the way you talked about nothing and everything, the way your hand sometimes brushed against his when you walked beside him. It was such a small thing. Such a normal thing. And somehow, it meant so much. It was a kind of domesticity he had never known. A life that felt almost within reach. It was torture, but a very precious one.

This time, however, he hadn't gone. He had wanted to with all his heart, and being away from you had tortured him. He was always worrying about you, and missed the opportunity to see what would make you smile today.

But the hunts and their cruel rhythm, the guilt and its constant pursuit… He was exhausted. Every muscle burned and every bone ached. His head throbbed like a bitch. Unlike the headaches he'd suffered when he was having visions, this one was less sharp and more consuming. He could feel the blood pounding behind his ears and across his forehead. He wondered if it still carried traces of demonic venom. If it was spreading silently through him. If, little by little, it was consuming him until there was nothing left but a monster-

The door opened and closed with an irritating sound. Sam felt his head threaten to split apart.

“Sam?” Your voice sounded worried. So even though he barely had the energy to raise his voice, he answered.

“Bathroom. You can come in.”

“Hi, Sam. What are you doing here?” You paused when you saw him. He looked pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Why are the lights off? Wait, let me turn them–”

“No.” The answer came so quickly that it startled you.

“Sam, are you okay?” The words were soft and low. He loved that about you. The affection and warmth. The pure, selfless care you gave to someone as tarnished as him. It made something inside him break. He looked at you with wide, hazel puppy eyes, almost as if he were silently begging for something.

You always seemed to know what to do, even when he didn't know what he was asking for. So you stepped closer, took his head, and pulled him against your stomach. The soft sounds it made were strangely soothing. When your fingers began tracing slow patterns along the nape of his neck, he almost started purring. He held you desperately, pressing his face against your shirt. It didn't really smell like you -he wished it did- but it smelled clean, like floral detergent.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He could barely focus on your questions. Your nails were drawing little circles against his skin, and it felt so good.

“My head.” The words finally came out, muffled against the fabric.

“Okay. It's okay. I know just the thing that can help.” You always do, he thought. “But we have to lie you down. You can't stay here; you'll only get more uncomfortable.” He didn't answer, he simply followed you into the main room and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Come on. Lie down on your back.” You placed a pillow across your crossed legs. Sam lay down and rested his head against it. Then you took his temples between your fingers and began massaging them. “You know, I think I might have mentioned this before, but my grandmother owned a hair salon. I loved spending time there.” Your fingers moved into his hair, gently tangling through his scalp as you applied more pressure. “My father hated it because it took time away from training and helping with lore research and everything else, but I loved it. I used to clean things, handle appointments, all kinds of stuff.” Your fingers slowly moved toward the nape of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. “Sometimes, when we were about to close, my grandmother would take me to the fancy chairs. She'd wash my hair and massage my scalp.” Sam's eyes drifted shut. “I always found it fascinating that such a simple thing could mean so much. Whenever she did it, I felt every ounce of hurt, pressure, and stress disappear.” Your voice softened. “It felt intimate. I used to be jealous of her hands. I wanted to be able to make someone feel as safe and cared for as she made me feel with such a simple gesture.” Your fingers continued their slow movements through his hair. “One day, I asked her to teach me. After that, I started practicing on my mom every day.” You weren't entirely sure why you were telling him all this. You simply felt comfortable with him, and it seemed like the right thing to say. Maybe all he needed was a few soft words and something to distract him from the pain. “It's been a while since I've done this, though. Tell me if the pressure is too much.”

“It's perfect.” He answered so quickly that you couldn't help but giggle. God, he loved that sound. A small smile tugged at his lips. If Dean saw me now, I would die of embarrassment. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do. You're always taking care of everyone else. Saving people. Saving me and Dean when we need help on hunts.” Your fingers continued moving gently through his hair. “Who takes care of you?”

Sam's breath caught. How could someone so precious exist? He was putting you in danger every day, and here you were, saying the most beautiful things while taking his pain away without asking for anything in return. That was it. The dam broke. A couple of tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, dying into his hair. You noticed immediately and stopped.

“Hey. Are you sure it's not too much?” That only made him cry harder. You were so gentle and loving. He didn't know what to do with it. He had never been treated like this before. Sure, Dean had always taken care of him. But this was different. This was soft. There was no screaming, no sacrifice. Just your hands in his hair and your voice in the dark of the room. Your body close enough for him to feel the warmth of you. You weren't even his. That was the problem. You were his best friend. And maybe best friends could be like this. Maybe best friends could hold each other and touch each other with this kind of care.

Sam sat up and turned away from you, embarrassed by his reaction. “Hey, Sammy. Please. Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me.” The nickname was what finally shattered the last of his composure.

“Why are you like this?”

“What? What do you mean, why am I like this?”

He finally turned around. His cheeks were wet, his nose red, his lips slightly swollen. They looked beautiful. Your fingers ached to touch them. Your lips yearned to kiss them to taste the salt of his tears.

Focus.

“Why are you so nice?” His voice trembled. “Why do you stick around?” He swallowed hard, hoping the tight feeling on his throat dissapeared. “Look, I'm dangerous. I'm a monster. I have this disease inside me. In my blood. This venom that's destroying every ounce of humanity I've ever had.” You couldn't speak. Sam's voice broke. “I'm begging you. I can't get away from you and Dean. I can't. I need you.” His eyes were full of fear. “So you have to leave. Because if you don't, you're going to end up dead like everyone else who ever got too close to me. Like my mom and dad, like Jess.” You stood frozen. He was standing in the center of the room, his large frame usually taking up so much space. Now, somehow, he looked small like a child trying to hide from an angry beast. You understood why he believed what he was saying. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, you just didn't know how to make him believe you. So you tried.

“Sam, listen to me.” He looked at you reluctantly. “Monsters are scary. They're cruel... ugly things.” You struggled to find the right words. “Some might look good on the outside, but inside, they're rotten. They feed on fear and power.” You took a step closer slowly, as if you were trying to talk to a wild scared animal without making it run. “Sammy, how could you possibly think you're like them? You're brave. You care about people. You work every day to make the world safer for strangers who will never even know your name.” Your voice grew softer. “You try to do the right thing every day, even when the right choice is harder than the wrong one.” You smiled faintly. God, you loved him so much. “You're kind. You're stubborn, in the best way possible...and you're beautiful.” Sam's breath caught. “Your soul is beautiful. I've seen it every time you've saved someone. I've seen it in the way you care, in the way you fight, in the way you keep going even when you're exhausted and afraid, and I see it now. Even when you're sad and angry.” Your voice trembled from the emotion of such honesty. “It's still beautiful.” Sam's eyes filled with tears again. “You are loved.” You wanted to reach for his hand. “And I need you to let me show you that.” He didn't move. “Let me take care of you. Let me stay by your side. Let me help you see how perfectly human you are.”

For a moment, Sam was speechless. He looked into your eyes and found no hesitation there, no lies nor pity. Only care. So he let his body do what it wanted.

He closed the distance between you in a few quick steps, took your face between his large hands, and kissed you. The kiss was passionate, filled with raw want and love. It tasted like salt, just what you had thought. All the things he had spent years refusing to say poured into it. All his fear and need, all his lonliness and devotion. And he worshiped you with his lips.

When you finally separated, both of you were breathless. “I love you,” he said.

“I know.” You smiled, teasing. “I love you too.” He wanted to hear those words a million more times.

You took his hand and guided him back toward the bed. He lay down, and you gently pulled his head against your chest.

“Does your head feel better?” You stroked his hair.

“So much better. Thanks.”

“Anytime you need it, just ask.” Your fingers continued their gentle movements. “It's okay to ask, Sam. I'm here for you. Always.” Warm tingles spread beneath his skin like fluttering butterflies.

Then your voice grew lighter. “I also give incredible back rubs, if you're interested…”

And that was how Dean found the two of you.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, watching television while giving a very shirtless Sam, sitting on the floor in front of you, a back rub.