Beating Like Moth’s Wings

Beating like moth's wingsTitle: Beating Like Moth’s Wings
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Castiel
Warning: post season-4
Word Count: 1150
Rating: R
Summary: Sam has withdrawals. Castiel tries some tough love.
Notes: Lyrics prompts game! For .

Whose side are you on?
What side is this anyways?
Put down your sword and crown
Come lay with me on the ground

You come beating like moth’s wings
Spastic and violently
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core
But you run away from me
And you left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the floor

“Moth’s Wings,” Passion Pit

“You must go,” Castiel said to Dean, his voice pitched low under the sounds of Sam banging on the bathroom door. “I’ll look after him.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him!” Dean exclaimed.

“I’ll tend to him,” Castiel said. “It will be better if you’re not here.”

“Better how?” Dean said.

“Just better.” The hollow-core door cracked under the force of Sam’s fury, and Castiel said, “Go. Find a bar, go to the library, drive until you run out of gas. Just stay away for a while.”

“What are you going to do?” Dean said, taking a step back towards the hotel room door. Castiel looked away and Dean sighed. “You know I’ve figured you out–you don’t say anything when you think I’m not going to like the answer.” Castiel looked at him, and Dean huffed. “Okay. I’ll go. Just don’t knock the building down or anything like that, okay?”

“I won’t hurt him,” Castiel said. When Dean was gone he turned back to the bathroom door. Sam was shouting threats and curses between begging for just a little, just a little more, God, please, he was hurting, didn’t they care?

Castiel grasped the knob and opened the door, and Sam fell onto the floor in mid-kick. He glared up at Castiel and pushed himself to his feet. “Where’s Dean?”

“He is out,” Castiel said.

“He just left you?” Sam said as he advanced on Castiel, and Castiel let Sam crowd him against the wall. He had a good six inches on the vessel and outweighed him by many pounds, but Castiel gazed up at him calmly, unafraid. “He left you alone with me?” Sam licked his lower lip, and Castiel was distracted by the movement, the texture of Sam’s mouth, his frantic breath puffing against Castiel’s mouth. “I need blood, Cas,” Sam whispered. “I need demon blood. You know how to get me some, right? That’s why you sent Dean away, right? ”

“I will not give you demon blood,” Castiel said.

“Cas,” Sam begged, “it hurt.” He pounded himself in the stomach with his fist. “It hurt!”

Castiel caught his hand. “Stop.”

Sam leaned his head on the wall, still breathing hard. “Why won’t you help me?” he whispered. “Please. Be my angel, Cas. Please.”

“I am your angel,” Castiel said as he took hold of Sam’s head, and he tried to give Sam feelings of warmth and ease from his pain. “You are stronger than this.”

“I’m not,” Sam whispered against Castiel’s cheek, “I’m not, I’m not…”

There was suddenly a mouth on Castiel’s, hard and desperate, as Sam twisted his fists into the trench coat. Castiel felt teeth sink into his lips and then tasted blood. Sam’s tongue swept into his mouth and lapped up the blood until Castiel shoved Sam away.

Sam stumbled back against the bed and held his hand to his mouth. “Cas,” he whispered. “That–it’s–you taste like them.”

Castiel wiped his mouth, the wound already healed. “Many demons were angels once,” he said, weary. “We have the same effect on mortal blood.”

Sam crouched a moment, coiled as a leopard. “I want more.”

“You’re not getting more.”

Sam sprang up, grabbed Castiel by the lapels and yanked him off his feet. There was a dangerous glitter in Sam’s eyes, a feral curl to his lips. Castiel let himself fall, but the moment Sam’s heavy body landed on top of his he pushed Sam onto his back and held him fast with his fingertips to Sam’s forehead. Sam inhaled and his body went limp, though his eyes stayed open wide, darting frantically back and forth. Castiel bent over him, gazing into his eyes without blinking, until the ravenous look faded into something much less malevolent.

“I know you hurt,” Castiel said. “I know your body craves the blood. I know if I bled into your mouth it would ease the hunger, but it would only be exchanging one addiction for another. That is not what you want, Sam. It is not what you need.”

“Castiel,” Sam whispered, and he sounded lost and exhausted. “Help me.”

“I’m trying to, Sam.” He drew his fingers slowly across Sam’s forehead, and when it appeared Sam would remain docile Castiel moved off him and sat cross-legged at his side. He petted Sam’s hair as he had seen Dean do, gingerly at first, and then let his fingers slip deep into Sam’s shaggy hair when Sam didn’t protest.

“These are withdrawals, aren’t they,” Sam whispered and curled onto his side, drawing up his legs. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

“I believe so. It will end.”

“I’ll just feel like hell until it does.” He laughed without humor. “No pun intended.”

Castiel smiled and continued stroking Sam’s hair. “We will get you through it.” Sam made a whimpering sound, and Castiel felt his heart tug with sympathy. He lay down and cradled Sam’s body awkwardly against his. “You will survive this,” he whispered. “You will. You will get through this night, and tomorrow will be a new day.”

“A new day to suffer through.” He pressed their foreheads together.

“A new day to survive,” Castiel said.

They lay together for a while on the floor. Sam’s eyes were closed and his breathing was measured and deep, so that Castiel thought he had fallen asleep when he whispered, “What are you going to tell Dean?”

“I will tell him I held you until you slept.”

Sam laughed that humorless laugh again. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Then I will hold you until he returns.”

“I feel a little better,” Sam said in a grudging tone. He turned his head so they could look at each other. A small smile crept onto Sam’s lips as Castiel gazed at him. “Castiel?” he whispered. “If I promised not to bite you again, would you kiss me?”

“If that will help,” Castiel said. Sam nodded, so Castiel did.

Sam was asleep the moment Castiel lifted his mouth, as Castiel intended. He moved Sam to the bed and stayed close, to soothe him if he wept or cried out in the night. He did a few times, but not, Castiel suspected, as often as he had the night before.

It would be a long road, but Sam had taken his first steps.

In the morning Dean returned, a gritty look to him that said he hadn’t slept, and took them in with a glance. “He made it,” he said in an exhausted tone.

“He did. He is strong.”

Dean slumped onto the bed beside him. “I don’t know what to do, Cas,” he whispered, and leaned against him when Castiel put a hand on his shoulder.

“You will let him rest,” Castiel said, and Dean nodded. Castiel held him and held Sam’s hand, and hoped he would be enough to keep them both going for a little while longer.


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