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Sam awoke to an empty bedroom. Despite getting a solid six hours of sleep he felt leaden and drained. He started his routine through pure muscle memory and was somewhat surprised to find himself showered and dressed twenty minutes later, staring into a foggy mirror.
The Men of Letters bunker was silent as Sam made coffee for one. It had been a week since Gadreel was evicted and Dean was left to shoulder the burden of his mistakes alone. Sam should’ve been angry. He should’ve made Dean stay. He should’ve forced him to see how absurd his leaving was and how little it would solve. But he didn’t.
Sam drank his coffee at the table alone. For a moment he basked in the solitude of himself, his own thoughts, his body purely and wholly his. But amidst that comfort was a loneliness that had nothing to do with Gadreel’s presence or lack thereof.
Sam heard the bunker door open above him. He recognized the footsteps and looked up in surprise.
“Good morning, Sam,” Castiel appeared at the railing. He was carrying several plastic bags.
“Cas, hey,” Sam gave a weak smile, trying to mask his relief.
Castiel descended the stairs and brought the bags to the kitchen. Sam got up to follow him. He watched curiously as Castiel began unpacking what looked like groceries.
“I thought you left,” Sam said.
Castiel glanced at him. For a moment he looked oblivious, but Sam’s determinedly casual tone seemed to have struck something in him, “You were asleep so I figured I would get some supplies. I should have left a note. I am sorry.”
Sam swallowed. “It’s no problem. Thanks for going out,” he said genuinely. He moved to the counter and began examining Castiel’s purchases. It was an odd assortment of things. The most normal item was a gigantic container or orange juice.
“That’s a lot of OJ,” Sam smiled in amusement.
“When I was human,” Castiel explained as he began putting things away, “I enjoyed drinking ‘oj’. I thought you might, too.”
Sam looked at him fondly. “Thanks, Cas.” He pulled another item from the bag.
“Oh, that… I had never heard of a ‘tofurky’, I’m not sure what kind of animal that is, but the women at the store assured me you would like it.”
Sam chuckled. He couldn’t help but imagine Castiel wandering aimlessly down the isles until a worker asked to help and surely regretted her decision when Castiel started asking questions like ‘what’s a tofurkey?’.
Sam grinned. “Dean’ll like that,” he joked. His grin faded quickly, however. He cleared his throat and continued unpacking while Castiel put everything away.
Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t bring up Dean anymore. He seemed to have admitted temporary defeat in trying to reunite the Winchesters and was now focused on the next more pressing issue.
The last few items gave Sam legitimate pause. He pulled from the bottom of the bag a bottle of children’s cough syrup and a few bottles of vitamins and assorted drugs. Sam sat down on a stool at the counter to examine it, then looked up at Castiel in confusion.
“Uh, what’s all this?”
Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, but that was the most… appetizing flavor they had. Or at least the least disgusting.” He referred to the bottle of strawberry syrup Sam was holding. “I only got a mild strain of influenza when I was human, but that seemed to work.”
Sam stared at it in confusion. “Cas, I’m not sick.”
Castiel looked at him. “Sure you are,” he said matter-of-fact, then resumed putting things away. “I can sense it, Sam. Your molecules are all out of sorts.”
“My… what?”
“Your hippocampus is overflowing with cortisol, your amygdala is enlarged, you have some mild brain inflammation and hypoxia...” Castiel finished unpacking and moved over to Sam, who was staring at him in bewilderment from the kitchen stool. “...you’re obviously fatigued, and you have a f…” he placed his hand on Sam’s head as if to prove his crowning point, then paused, “oh.”
Sam stared at him.
Castiel withdrew his hand awkwardly. “Well, fevers do not always accompany influenza. It’s… good that you don’t have one.” He recovered.
Sam had gone quiet. “Cas, um…” he said patiently, although a trace of guilt weakened his voice.
Castiel watched him pick his words, standing motionless between Sam’s knees.
“Those aren’t symptoms of the flu,” Sam took a deep breath. “They’re symptoms of…depression. And grief.” Sam looked at Castiel, trying to keep his expression light.
Castiel’s certainty faltered at once. “Oh. Oh… I…” He looked at the cough syrup and bottles of pills. “I should not have assumed.”
“It’s okay, Cas. Really,” Sam cleared his throat, regaining some confidence. He set the syrup bottle back down and gave Castiel a small smile.
Castiel didn’t smile back. “Well, what do you take for depression, then? I did not see anything like that at the store.”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t take anything. You can, but… I don’t think there’s treatment for the kind of stuff you and I have been through.”
The more Sam looked relieved, the more Castiel looked worried.
“How do you treat it then?”
“Me? Well, repression, mostly,” he smiled weakly. When Castiel just looked more worried, Sam added, “Time usually helps. A lot of it. And that's… that’s about it.”
Castiel looked crestfallen. “So there is nothing I can do to help?”
Sam studied him for a moment. His patient smile faded and he reached out and touched his arm. “You are helping, Cas. You’re helping a lot, actually.”
Castiel took Sam’s hand reflexively, still peering at him owlishly.
“You, being here, it’s better than any medicine,” Sam gave him a warm yet pained look and squeezed his hand.
Castiel didn’t move. He stood perfectly still between Sam’s knees, holding his hand and looking weary but determined. “Then I will not move from this spot until you are better.” He announced.
Sam blinked, then broke into a nature smile. “Cas, that’s not…”
His smile relieved Castiel’s stiffness. He suddenly realized Sam wasn’t being literal and abandoned his stony sentry, although he continued to look at Sam like a silent guardian. It was the most angelic Sam had ever seen him. Sam’s smile warmed and he leaned forward subtly. Castiel caught the gesture, as if he’d been waiting for it, then completed the motion, kissing Sam on the mouth.
It was a slow, silent kiss. It wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was a desire to be close. As the kiss faded and their lips fell away Sam turned his head and rested against Castiel, maintaining that closeness. He felt Castiel relax, like he always did as the human in him took over. He put an arm around Sam and held him close. His other arm hung by his side, still holding Sam’s hand.
“Hm,” Castiel hummed in interest.
“What is it?” Sam looked up at him.
“You were right. Your cortisol levels have dropped.”
Sam grinned and murmured, “Thanks Dr. Sexy.”
Castiel blinked as if to retort, but then smiled instead. It made him look startlingly human. “You’re welcome.”
Sam closed his eyes and kissed Castiel. He basked in Castiel’s presence, their shared thoughts, the space between them perfectly aligned and whole. Amidst that comfort was still the loneliness left in place of Dean, but Sam thought that with Castiel presence he could maybe handle it a little longer.