Where Is God? - Sabriel

ix

TW: reference to abuse

Sam and I cuddle, I tell him jokes to make him laugh, and play with his impossibly soft hair. It's absolutely glorious, and feels more luxurious than the most expensive silk. Exquisite.

Castiel walks into the living room after ten minutes or so, phone in hand.

"Gabe-" He stops when he sees Sam with me, putting the phone to his ear. "Sam is here, Dean... He looks okay, yes. Sam, are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Is Dean okay?" Sam says quickly, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

"Sam says he's okay. Are you okay, Dean? ... Dean says he's fine and that you shouldn't worry about him, Sam... I'll ask him now. Gabriel, can Dean come over to see Sam?"

I nod immediately. "Of course he can."

"You can come over, Dean," Cas reiterates to him. "That's okay, Dean. Do you want me to come meet you?... Are you sure? I don't mind... Okay, I'll see you soon. Goodbye, Dean." Castiel puts his phone in his pocket and looks at us. "Something... happened," he observes.

"Yes, Cas," I confirm for him.

"Is Dean okay?" Sam asks, concern in his voice.

"He sounded..." Cas pauses, frowning in concentration. Cas knows everything about the theory of emotion, and has sort of mental revision cards stored in his brain with descriptions of every emotion, lists of symptoms and signs that help him properly identify how other people are feeling (and often how he's feeling). I can almost physically see him flicking through the cards now, trying to land on the correct emotion. "Stressed, I think. He sounded stressed."

Sam's face cracks, guilt tattooed on his forehead. "Shit... I messed up. I shouldn't have just left. That was a dick move. He's going to be worried about me and I left him alone with dad and he was angry too. What if they argued? I shouldn't have-"

"Sam," I interrupt his spiral into anxiety before he can fall too deep, "you did nothing wrong. You exited a situation that was emotionally harmful to you. That's what you're supposed to do. You did the right thing. Dean's okay. He said he was fine."

"Yeah, but he never says that he's not fine," he presses, nibbling on his lip.

I place my hand on his arm. "He'll be here in a minute, Sam. He's safe. You're safe. It's all going to be alright..."

Castiel is standing awkwardly in the door way, looking uncomfortable, not sure what to do with himself.

"Come sit down, Cas," I tell him to make it easier for him. "Dean will be here in a second."

Cas shuffles uncomfortably before taking my advice, sitting down on the sofa opposite me and Sam.

"Sam," Castiel says.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Do you think Dean lied when he said he was okay?"

Cas genuinely looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed, shoulders tensed, sitting on the edge of his seat as if he might have to launch off of it at any second.

"I... I don't know," Sam admits, looking as concerned as Cas is, his face pale with worry.

"I hope he's okay," Cas tells Sam.

Sam smiles weakly. "Yeah, me too..."

We sit in a thick silence, atmosphere heavy and dreary, like the tension in the air before a storm, the kind that fills your head with fog leaving little room for your brain at all. It's difficult to bear, but probably all the more difficult for poor Sam. I hold his hand, to let him know I'm here, whatever little comfort that may offer.