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Sam stares at her.
His mother.
She's here. Really here, her faded blonde hair haloing her head on the pillow, all over the place from the thrashing she does in her sleep. He and Dean sit side by side for the first half-day, just watching her sleep, one or the other of them reaching out to calm her when she starts to get agitated. Dean hums sometimes. Sam reads sometimes.
When Cas finally comes to drag Dean away, Sam stays. He knows they won't be leaving her alone anytime soon, and even Winchesters need to sleep occasionally. Now that he's alone with her, he finds his own words come easily.
He starts talking and doesn't stop for hours. He tells her how Dean took good care of him when he was little – the one well-traveled "diaper incident" aside – and how Jess's hair smelled when it was warm from being in the sun. He talks about dad, sometimes strained and sometimes wistful. He talks about their friends and support systems, and how everyone they love seems to die, even him and Dean, though they can't seem to make that stick.
He talks about Cas. He talks a lot about Cas, about Dean and Cas and how he wasn't sure they were ever going to figure things out but then they did. About how Cas is so different as a human and yet somehow essentially the same. How Cas makes Dean's eyes crinkle up, happy in a way Sam can barely remember, it's been so long. He talks about how Cas makes the bunker home, how he loves holidays and always goes overboard on the decorating, which is why there is a twenty foot tree in the foyer covered in white lights and red and silver ornaments.
He talks about how he kind of wants to see Dean and Cas get married, just to see what kind of a fuss Cas will put up about their tuxes.
Cas relieves him after four hours. Sam thinks he should wait for Dean; it doesn't seem right to leave mom with Cas, even though she's still unconscious and probably won't come to for hours, or maybe days. In the end he's too tired to fight about it and he trusts Cas. They're just down the hall; Sam can leave his door open and he knows he and Dean will both come running if Cas raises his voice.
He sleeps lightly, waking often to snatches of dreams that don't make a lot of sense. As soon as he does a mental perimeter check (listening for Cas's voice – apparently he feels like talking to mom, too), he slips back under, new dreams dragging him awake a short while later.
Cas's voice switches to Dean's at some point – between the dream about kissing the girl chewing cinnamon gum and the half-dream, half-memory of using the clippers on Dean's hair sometime in high school. Dean's voice must be more comforting than Cas's because once Dean takes over, Sam sleeps straight through for four hours, waking to the smell of coffee and sweet baked goods.
Dean may be able to cook, but Cas took to baking like a champion. Sam can bake too – it's mostly chemistry – but Cas loves it and is better at messing with flavors. Sam basically makes the banana bread and peanut butter cookies and leaves the rest to Cas.
This morning it's cinnamon rolls. Two batches – one with pecans (for Sam) and one without (for Dean). Cas is always thoughtful that way. He's still puttering around the kitchen, washing the dishes with a towel slung over his shoulder.
"These smell amazing," Sam says, leaning over the pan to sniff appreciatively. "Can I have one?"
Cas smiles, like he was just waiting for Sam to come in and compliment his baking. "Of course. They're just cool enough to eat, I think." He hands Sam a knife and holds out a plate for him. Sometimes Sam cannot believe how thoughtful Cas is; like when he realized he was going to be human, suddenly he understood how all the little things count. It's a lesson that neither he nor Dean have learned, and Sam's sorry for it some days.
Once Sam's cut one out for himself, Cas takes over and cuts one out of Dean's pan and sets it on the counter while he pours three mugs of coffee. "Here," he says, setting a mug down at Sam's elbow. Sam's finished half his cinnamon roll already and is debating whether or not he wants seconds right away.
"Thanks, Cas."
He watches Cas prepare Dean's coffee – he's taken to milk now that they're not drinking it on the road all the time (and because Cas will take the time to do it for him, Sam privately thinks), and there's something about the set of his shoulders that makes Sam ask, "Is everything okay?"
Cas freezes, and Sam instantly knows the answer to his question is "no." He doesn't know exactly what the problem is, but he's willing to bet it's one Cas can't bring up with Dean. "What is it?"
Cas continues fixing Dean's coffee and sighs. "Will you take this to your brother? He needs to eat something."
Sam's not sure if that's avoidance or not; it could be an honest request, that ends with a silent "come back and we'll talk after" or it could be a way for Cas to escape deep into their archives to avoid talking about his feelings like a good Winchester.
"Yeah, of course." Sam gulps down the rest of his own coffee, lamenting the second cinnamon roll he's going to forgo, and takes the plate and mug for Dean. He hesitates before leaving the room, wondering if it's necessary to tell Cas that he can talk to Sam if he wants to, and then deciding it's best to stick with things you know and just gives him a sympathetic smile as he leaves to bring Dean breakfast.
Dean's smiling down at mom, a lock of her hair between his fingers. He looks so happy, ten years younger, at least. Mom looks better, too, like the rest is actually doing her some good. "Cas sent breakfast," he says loudly, giving Dean enough time to hide his girly feelings if he wants to.
He doesn't. He doesn't let go of mom's hair, and the smile he gives Sam is the purest look Sam's seen from him in a long time. Nothing calculating or hiding or trying to figure Sam out – just plain happiness. Sam smiles and hands over the coffee and roll.
"Wow," Dean says, picking up the roll and stuffing half of it in his mouth, ignoring the fork tucked daintily on the plate. "Yum."
"You're such a pig, Dean."
As if to prove the point, Dean opens his mouth to grin, and several crumbs drop down the front of his shirt. Sam just shakes his head and hands over the coffee. Dean takes the mug and raises it in a salute, taking two big swallows to wash down the sweet roll.
"You okay for a while?" Sam asks. "I want to shower."
"I'm good, Sammy," Dean says, leaning forward to grab the lock of hair again. "Take your time."
Sam mumbles an answer and leaves Dean to it. He can hear Dean say, "He's a good kid, mom, never met anyone that tried so hard." He thinks Dean meant for him to hear it, or at least didn't care that he did, and it's comforting and saddening at the same time.
He shakes it off and heads back to the kitchen. If nothing else, he's going to get his second cinnamon roll. Cas is waiting for him, sitting at their little table with his coffee mug in hand, hardly any of it drunk. He looks up at Sam as he comes in and smiles tightly. He waves a hand at the place across from him, Sam's plate with a second roll on it and coffee mug with steaming coffee in it waiting for him.
"Thanks, Cas," Sam says, sitting down and scooping a forkful into his mouth. He hums his praise and Cas smiles, always happy to receive compliments. "What's up?" Sam asks, though it's probably unnecessary – when Cas is ready to talk about something, he's going to talk about it. It's the opposite of Dean, who requires every one of Sam's tricks to talk about his feelings – and a lot of them don't work now that Sam's not a kid anymore.
"I need to know if I should leave."
Sam can feel the shock register on his face and Cas notices too, but he plows on, explaining even though he doesn't need to – Sam got it, loud and clear. "I don't think it will be long before Mary wakes up, and you have so much to catch up on, and I know Dean feels that your father would not approve –"
"Hey," Sam says, putting his hands up to stop Cas. "First of all, this is your home. You're staying, and that's the end of it."
"But –"
"No buts. And you're not taking another room, either." He stares at Cas until Cas nods his agreement. "And I don't know what dad would've thought, but I know he wasn't a bigot, and he would've appreciated that you make Dean happy. I'm sure mom'll see the same thing. You have nothing to worry about."
Cas still looks uncertain. He's clutching his mug against his chest like a lifeline, and Sam could kick himself for interrupting. Cas is very logical and always has an endpoint; Sam jumped the gun and must have missed something. He nods. "What else?"
Cas chuckles. He probably followed Sam's thoughts easily. Cas is a lot better at reading intention than he and Dean are. "Dean has been… distant."
Sam nods. He'd watched Dean close down as they'd planned the whole operation, and how he was back to his pure hunter self in Purgatory. He's been different since they got back, though, the way he looks at mom. Sam looks at Cas's face, tries to read his expression. When he doesn't get anything, he waits for more explanation.
Cas sighs. "He won't touch me. He stands farther away. He… I think he's worried about what your mother might think."
Sam's not surprised. Cas told him that Dean had worried about telling Sam for weeks after they'd been together. Sam had thought that was pretty funny at the time, considering he'd known where Dean and Cas were headed a lot longer than Dean seemed to. He still figures it was Dean coming to terms with it himself more than deciding what to tell Sam.
"And?" Sam asks. "There are really only a few options here. She loves you and it's fine; she hates you and… what? Dean has to choose? Do you really think mom would make Dean choose?"
Cas shakes his head. "Mary is a good soul. It's Dean's discomfort I wish to alleviate. If I left for a while, perhaps it would be easier for him to tell her about it?"
Sam catches Cas's eyes, waits until Cas is looking back before he answers. "Dean's discomfort is his own problem, Cas. He's got to get over it and you shouldn't have to leave because he's an insecure ass."
Cas nods again, looking down into the coffee mug like it might tell him if Sam is right. Sam knows he's right, though, and he takes a fortifying bite of cinnamon roll and stands. "I'm going to go talk to him."
Cas looks up at him, uncertain. Sam will probably never get used to that particular look on Cas's face; he sometimes misses when Cas was so sure of purpose. Then he remembers what came of it and decides the uncertainty has its own charms. "Don't leave," Sam says, hoping Cas knows he means the bunker and not the kitchen.
Dean's right where Sam left him, apparently done talking to mom because he's humming Metallica to her like it's soothing.
"Dean?" Sam asks, nodding his head toward the hallway. "Can I talk to you?"
Dean makes a face that says he'd rather die than talk, but Sam knows that's not true – not with mom here. He can tell Dean's been bursting to talk to someone about everything going on with him. He understands why Dean doesn't talk to him about mom – they've always had fundamentally different ways of dealing with her memory – but why hasn't he talked to Cas?
Dean steps out of the room, pulling the door mostly closed behind him. "Yeah?"
"You need to get your head on straight," Sam says, figuring he might as well go on the offensive. "You know mom is going to love Cas. There's no reason to shut him out."
"Excuse me?" The surprise on Dean's face lasts just long enough for Sam to catch a glimpse before it goes straight into pissed off. "I don't think I asked you for relationship advice."
"No, but Cas did," Sam answers calmly. He knows it irks Dean to talk about relationships, but this is just stupid and Sam's not going to let Dean ruin the best thing that's ever happened to him.
"Cas… what?" Dean throws his hands up. "Dude, mom's been back for less than twenty-four hours – she's not even conscious yet."
"Yeah, and you've been..." Sam stops mid-thought. Dean's right. It hasn't even been a whole day.
"I've been what?" Dean asks. "I've seen Cas for all of ten minutes total since we brought mom home."
Sam nods, trying for apologetic. "Well, I guess he's feeling insecure about what mom will think. Sorry, I just assumed it was your fault."
"That's nice," Dean says, but there's no real anger in it. Both of them know that the biggest problem with their relationships is usually them.
"Well, he asked if he should leave, so maybe you better go figure things out."
"The things I put up with." Dean rolls his eyes but hurries down the hallway like the thinks Cas might bolt without packing. It's probably not an unfair assumption – they're all pretty bad at dealing with relationships.
Sam takes up the vigil at mom's bedside and immediately starts talking again – about how he forgets sometimes Cas has bad judgment, too, and how Dean's actually pretty good to the people he cares about.
He wakes from a doze hours later, stretching and listening to the creak of his bones. He's old for his age, so much older than he should be. He's tired, too – he can't really match Dean hour for hour of staying awake any more, not since trying to close the gates.
He checks to make sure mom is still sleeping and heads out to the main area to see if he can get someone to relieve him while he takes a nap. He stops when he sees Cas and Dean staring at the Christmas tree, Dean with his arms around Cas, whispering in his ear, Cas with a smile on his face a mile wide.
Something in his stomach unclenches, and he turns to leave them alone, nearly knocking mom over in the process. "Mom!" he squawks, and Dean and Cas both turn to stare. Cas tries to separate himself, pulling away from Dean, but Dean doesn't let go, and Cas ends up standing awkwardly in Dean's arms. Sam can't help the laugh the bubbles out of him.
Mom puts a hand on his arm and he looks down at her, so unreal to see her here. "Sam," she says, lifting one hand up to cup his cheek. "What a handsome man you've become."
He folds her into a hug, leaning down so she can get her arms around his neck. He has to be careful of how hard he holds on; his instinct is to hug tightly, and she's still fragile from her ordeal. She kisses his cheek and he lets go, watches her cross the room to where Dean still hasn't let go of Cas and Cas is fidgeting.
"Dean," mom says, and he opens one arm to her, still holding on to Cas with the other. She fits herself easily into his embrace, and he can see Dean holding back the same way he did, not wanting to squeeze her too tightly, though all their instincts say "hold on tight because this might not be real."
Sam wanders over, watching mom pull away from Dean just enough to touch Cas. "I'm Dean's mom," she says, and Cas looks at her reverently.
"Castiel," he says, sticking his hand out awkwardly for a handshake. She takes his hand and clasps it in both of hers.
"Castiel," she says. "That is a lovely name."
Cas ducks his head and mumbles a thank you. Dean leans in to kiss him on the side of the mouth. He's always a sucker for Cas when he's shy and awkward.
"I am very pleased to meet you at last," Cas says. "I have always wanted to meet the woman to bear such wonderful sons."
Mom smiles widely and Dean cuffs Cas on the head. "Dude, seriously?"
"Hey," she says, cuffing Dean on the back of the head in turn. "Don't smack someone who just complimented your mother."
"Sorry, mom," Dean says, and sounds about five.
Cas clears his throat. "I was just talking to Dean about making some hot chocolate. Would you like some?"
"That would be wonderful," she says.
"Sam?" Cas asks, like he doesn't know the answer to that question. No one ever turns down Cas's hot chocolate.
"Please," Sam answers, grinning at how relaxed Cas seems, like he passed some gauntlet only he knew about.
"I'll help," Dean says, and kisses mom on the head before leading Cas into the kitchen by their linked hands.
Sam pulls out one of the chairs for her and she sits, staring at the gigantic Christmas tree. Sam chuckles. "Cas. He really likes Christmas. And New Year's. And anything remotely holiday-like, especially if it involves decorations."
She smiles. "I always loved Christmas, too." She puts her hand over Sam's, her eyes earnest now, looking for years' worth of answers in one question. "Are you happy? You and Dean?"
"Yeah," Sam says, looking up at the tree and remembering the day they brought it in and decorated it – and the snowball fight they had outside where he and Cas ganged up on Dean so he was completely covered in snow. "We are."
Later, as they sip their cocoa in front of the twinkling lights of the tree and trade stories like presents, Sam watches Dean lean back against Cas, hands gesturing wildly as he tells some tall tale, sees his mom's warm smile and happy eyes as she takes in the same thing, and thinks this place finally feels like home.