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A thought occurs to Sam as they trek through the woods, following the GPS trail left by Dean’s phone to the place he’d been hexed just that morning. All things considered, Sam would basically be doing Dean a favor. Is it a little manipulative? Maybe. But then again, Dean let an angel set up shop in his body for months, so getting some information from him while he’s got amnesia is just tit for tat.
Because Sam knows. He knows. But it would be nice to know for sure. To hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
And with the last dying breath of his guilty conscience rattling out into the cold night air, he reasons with himself that according to Rowena, Dean most likely won’t remember any of this when it’s all said and done. So. No harm, no foul, right?
Dean’s plodding along behind him, boots seemingly finding every single snappy stick on the forest floor. They’re not trying to be sneaky, but it’s habit now for them to try and walk lightly.
Not anymore. Not for this Dean, anyway.
“So, wait, the demon that we killed with the yellow eyes,” Dean says, continuing the conversation they’d been having in the car.
“Azazel,” Sam supplies.
“Azazel, yeah. So we beat him? Like, on our own? Just like that?”
“Well, Dad was there. He sort of…sacrificed himself.”
“Oh jeez,” Dean replies and Sam has to glance backwards to see the look of sincerity on Dean’s face to believe it. He looks genuinely upset at the news. Sam is so used to the emotional constipation, it’s a bit jarring seeing it all out in the open like this.
“But, hey!” Dean adds. “No more demons, right?”
Sam snorts a laugh. “I wish it were that easy. Sorry, dude, but there’re, like, a billion demons. Well, more like thousands if I had to guess."
“Shit,” Dean replies, shock apparent in his voice.
Sam sees his chance and he takes it. “And, you know, there’re other monsters, too. Like, uh, sirens.”
“What, like the singing mermaid things?”
“Yeah, not so much.”
“Okay, well, they’re at least hot chicks who lure men to their deaths, right? We need more hot chick monsters.”
Sam rolls his eyes and checks the GPS tracker on his phone again. Maybe another quarter mile to go.
“Yeah, actually, everyone kinda has their own siren specially for them that gives them, y’know, what they most desire.” Sam swallows but figures now or never. “Your siren was a dude, actually.” He keeps his tone light and casual. He itches to change the subject, because if this were fully Dean, they’d be so far away from this conversation it’d be in a different state.
Instead, Dean is quiet, then says, “Huh.” It’s thoughtful, not defensive, and Sam barely resists turning around to see what his face looks like.
“Well, uh, it’s not all monsters!” Sam powers through. “There’s angels, too, for example.”
“What, for real?” Dean seems more surprised by that than anything else Sam has said. Maybe the angry atheism was more nature than nurture after all. But then Dean adds, “So I guess God’s real then? That’s cool.”
“Uh, yeah.” Not enough time to get into that particular nugget of truth. “You’re actually— Well, we are both, I guess, friends with one. An angel, I mean. Um, Cas. Castiel.”
“No friggin’ way,” Dean says, quiet, but delighted. “We are so awesome, dude!”
Sam huffs out a laugh.
“How the hell did we get an angel on our side?” Dean asks.
“That’s…probably a longer story than we have time for, but the short version?” Sam stops walking and turns to Dean. “You went to hell. It was to save me and…we tried to stop it. Tried everything to—to keep you from going, but…”
Dean’s hand grips Sam’s arm tightly. “Hey, it’s okay, man. It’s in the past, right?”
Sam shakes his head slightly but says, “Yeah, well, anyway, wasn’t a few months later Castiel had risen you from hell himself.”
Dean’s hand drops to his side, his mouth agape. “For…me? What— Why? Am I that important?”
“Well, yeah, actually,” Sam says. “But that’s a story for another time, too. And yeah, so Cas kinda joined our team. He’s our best friend, but…” Sam hesitates, knowing this is a line he would never cross under normal circumstances. “You and him, you and Cas. You sort of… Well, he once said he and you share a ‘more profound bond’.” Sam rolls his eyes as he makes little bunny ears with his fingers. It’s an escape hatch, if Dean wants it. He can turn this into a joke. If Dean, unburdened by their haunted past of oppression and twisted lies, still doesn’t see what Sam has been seeing these past 7 years…
“That’s…” Dean looks thoughtful as he rubs at the stubble of his cheek, eyes pointed upward at the dark branches of the wood blotting out the night sky. “That must be nice. To be…chosen, I guess, by an angel.”
Sam can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, it is nice. He’s smart and kind and funny sometimes and you guys fight like an old married couple, but it’s…yeah, it’s nice. Couldn’t have chosen a better angel for my brother, if that were a thing.”
Dean’s brow furrows as he looks at Sam again. “Wait, are we— Am I shacked up with an angel?!”
“Uh, well—“
Dean presses his hand to his forehead and says, “Holy shit, I am, aren’t I? I can kinda… It’s weird, but I can actually kinda feel something. It’s, uh…” He puts a hand over his heart and pats it a couple times. “Here. It’s weird. Like, I can feel the truth of that here.” He pauses. “That’s so friggin’ sappy. Am I usually this sappy?” He lets out a long breath. “Damn, that angel must’ve done a number on me, huh?”
Sam swallows thickly and says, “Yeah, I think he did.”
“Cas,” Dean says, trying the name out. He frowns. “Can’t say I remember the name but…” He pats his chest once more before letting his hand fall. “Good for me,” he concludes.
Sam tries to hide his feelings, but that’s never been his strong suit, and the flood of joy mixed with self-righteous triumph (because he knew!) is overwhelming.
“You okay, dude?” Dean asks.
Sam clears his throat and turns back to the trail. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.”