sastiel, anything involving consent please <3
(I wanted to do something a little different from the other consent fics so, uh, yeah, warning for blood I guess?)
The angel had arrived just in time, so it seemed.
“Fuck, Cas, I don’t know what to do,” Dean said, pacing back and forth across the expanse of the bunker’s living quarters, hands cupped over his face as the panic sunk in. “God, he’s completely totalled and he wouldn’t let me help him. He wouldn’t, he- fuck, just go fix him please.”
“Point me in the right direction and I will do what I can.”
“Okay, yeah, just follow me.”
From what he’d garnered up until that point, Dean and Sam had gone on a particularly dangerous hunt with an extremely detailed plan of attack that had gone awry. Suffice to say, Sam had pulled the short end of the stick and, in turn, ended up getting severely injured in the process.
The only problem being was, due to the disconnect in the brothers relationship, Sam had refused any medical treatment Dean could’ve offered him. He’d stuck it out by putting pressure down on his wounds with a torn up t-shirt on their way back, before heading himself off to the bathroom which he’d shut himself in for the better portion of an hour. It left Dean in an absolute frenzy.
“He’s, uh, he’s in there,” Dean said, gesturing towards the door before turning his back on it, eyes staring up at the ceiling as he took in another shaky breath. His fists had balled up quite tightly as he mustered another shallow exhale. “Help him, okay. Just help him.”
“This is not your fault, Dean.”
The hunter only grimaced further before walking down the hallway, clearly too stressed to be near the perimeter till after what needed to be done had been completed. It was hard watching Dean digress, but it was harder knowing that whatever he was about to face on the other side of the door was not going to be pretty.
After taking a moment to assess the situation a little more thoroughly, he knocked on the large mahogany door, voice gravelly and tight. “May I come in, Sam?”
He was greeted with silence at first, which was definitely not a good sign. He’d counted the seconds in his head, willing himself to open the door if ten had gone by without response. After a good six though, the answer finally came, albeit gritty and far too low.
As it turned out, even Cas couldn’t have imagined the sight he’d been greeted with.
Blood appeared everywhere and on everything: streaked across the mirror, dripping from the edge of the sink, puddled on the floor by the bloodied, discarded clothing. It was a sea of red that filled and consumed his senses, eyes wide as he turned towards the tub where the younger Winchester had drawn a shallow bath and was currently sitting in, face scrunched up and eyes shut tight.
There were jagged wounds everywhere from what he wasn’t certain. Serrated cuts along Sam’s left wrist, bicep, and down across the incline of his spine and back. There was even a small cut leaking just below his right eye, somewhat clotted from having not had the chance to soak like the rest of him had, though it had been wetted down at some point, most likely when Sam had dunked his head.
And the water. Cas found himself almost oddly fixated with the bright shade it had taken from the obvious blood loss. Thick and sharply scented, like rust. It was enough to cement the immediate need.
“You’re bleeding out,” Cas said flatly, though if he were being honest with himself, he would have responded with much more urgency.
Sam merely opened his eyes slowly, lids barely seeming to make the journey, hanging across his irises like half-closed set of blinds. “Wanted to get the blood off, is all.”
Cas took a step forward than stilled, pausing for just as moment as he watched the younger man take small, shallow breaths through his mouth. He should have responded impulsively. Should have had his hand on Sam’s forehead by now. Shouldn’t have felt the need to ask what it was Sam wanted first, but he did. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything Sam wouldn’t have wanted him to.
“I wish to heal you,” he said then, almost awkwardly as it was strange asking if were okay to save someone’s life. “Would you allow me that right?”
Sam didn’t respond for a few seconds, though his eyes had finally snapped open fully, mouth forming a silent ‘o’ as he turned his attention towards Castiel. It was most likely a surprising question to him as it had been a difficult question for the angel to ask. In any case, after the initial shock had worn off, he nodded his head, teeth clenching when the movement caused pain to shoot up his spine.
This time, Cas didn’t hesitate to clear the space between them, pressing his fingers against Sam’s forehead with a practiced ease. The healing sparked quick, inflammation reducing as the cuts moulded back up and in until healing over completely. He made sure that each wound was fully mended before dropping his hand back down to his side.
At first, Sam said nothing. He looked at Cas, then back at his wrist which he raised, stretching the joint experimentally just in case. When it appeared his whole body was in order, he let his eyes wander back towards the angel, teeth sinking into his lower lips sharply.
“May I get you a towel?” Castiel asked then, still riddled with a certain amount of concern. Sam had nodded, watching the angel cross the expanse of the bathroom, reaching under the counters to where the towels had been folded and stacked. He’d removed two, one which he’d handed to Sam right away while the other he’d kept in his hands, fixating on it while the younger man pulled himself up from the bloody water.
After Sam had stepped out of the tub and had secured the article tightly around his waist, he turned his full attention back on Cas, brows furrowed as if he were searching for words. And Castiel, who’d had very few answers to give, was now caught like a deer in headlights.
“You asked me,” he said, imploring but softer still. “To save my life, you asked me. Why?”
Cas deliberated, unfolding the secondary towel as he did so before answering in the only way he knew how. “It is not fair of me to assume anything when it comes to your life, Sam. I just want you to continue living it. Now, may I dry your hair? Your body temperature is not optimal.”
Sam nodded, eyes glistening, though he hadn’t said a word about it. He’d just ducked his head, letting the angel run a towel through his hair gently, carefully, as Cas had always been with him. When he’d finished, he’d set the towel around Sam’s shoulders, concentrating on his task with the same attention to detail Sam had seen him depict from the start.
When he’d finished, he let his hands drop back down to his sides. “I should let Dean know you’re alright.”
Sam nodded, watching him with that same look of curiousness mixed with confusion. It was almost enough to keep Cas still. To keep him searching, because he liked searching Sam. He was always fascinated by what he found.
As soon as he’d turned towards the door, though, a hand quickly jetted for his wrist, soft but obvious, stilling him for just a moment longer.
“Thank you,” Sam said, voice thick. “For everything. Cas, thank you.”
Castiel merely nodded, letting his hand clear the distance between them, fingers pressing softly against the young Winchester’s cheek.
