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The first thing Castiel notices that morning is that something's the matter with Sam.Dean hasn’t left to work yet. That’s not unusual in itself — Castiel has taken the earlier bus many mornings, just because he feels safer that way for the case that something happens with the vehicle or the busy morning transport, and those times Dean has been at home. The difference is that this time Dean isn’t making any attempts to leave. On the contrary, he sits on Sam’s bed, holding Sam against his chest and stroking his hands up and down Sam’s back and upper arm.The alarming part is the mindset Sam seems to be in. He is sobbing softly and shivering something terrible, cuddled tightly against his older brother. Castiel can see that Sam is in pain, his arched back a clear indication of it as well as the pained whimpers he lets out every now and then.Dean has Sam on his lap, the head with a tousled mop of hair tucked under his chin, his arms cocooning the boy safely as he moves his hands slowly and soothingly up and down.-I know, Sam, I know, he murmurs. -I’m here, buddy, right here. Shhh. I got you, Sammy.The older brother hums softly, rocking Sam gently, pressing the softest kisses on the boy’s temple as the reassurances flow in an even stream from his lips. His whole being radiates confident calmness, but Castiel can see his eyes from where he stands on the door, and they are anything but that.Castiel blinks just for a second, then he gets his senses back and scurries towards the bathroom. He snatches the clean cloth from the drawer Dean has shown him before and wrings it under cool water from the tap, grabs the heating pad from the cabinet under his arm and gets back to the boys. In Sam’s room, he gives Dean the cloth and plugs the pad in.Dean takes the cloth without a word, without stopping his soothes, gently untangling himself from Sam just enough to wipe the sweat from Sam’s forehead and under his eyes. When he does that, Sam tenses and whimpers louder, and Dean casts the cloth away and goes back to the tight hug that calms Sam down the best, shushing at him again. From Sam’s tense posture and crumpled expression Castiel can see he’s either anxious or in pain, maybe both.-What do you need? He asks softly when Dean’s ministrations are rewarded and Sam rests still for a moment.-Valium, Dean says between his soothing hums, Sam’s head tucked against his chest, rocking gently. -It will take hold in five to ten minutes tops. After that he may be able to stand the TENS machine.-Oral or injection?-Oral. Dean’s voice is confident, stopping for a second as Sam tenses even more, wincing. -Shh, got you, Sammy… Yeah, it’s slightly harder to give, but I can’t move right now.Like underlining Dean’s words, Sam screeches and presses against Dean even harder, seeming really afraid of him disappearing away, and Dean’s concerned attention is right back at him.-Shh, buddy, not going anywhere, he soothes, stroking the hair back from Sam’s face and hugging him close. -I’m here, I’m right here. It’s okay.Castiel nods. Sam’s anxiety medicines are not kept in his bedroom as they are usually given to Sam after his breakfast and if Sam needs them during the day, there’s a bigger possibility that another bathroom is closer to them than the bedroom.Dean’s soft hum escorts Castiel as he takes his another short leave, coming back in a minute with the half-full plastic syringe. Dean gingerly reaches his other hand to take the medicine. He glances approvingly at the pale pink, translucent liquid — the medicine itself has no color, but Castiel remembered Dean giving him earlier a hint of using some strawberry juice concentrate to make the bitter taste of the oral suspension better for Sam —, looks at Sam and adjusts Sam better in his lap.-Here we go, Sammy, open up, he coaxes softly as the boy blinks groggily up at the position change. -It’s the juice spray. Come on. It’ll make you feel better.Sam twitches his head to the side, frowning irritatedly, but opens his lips to a slit anyway. Dean doesn’t miss a beat in pressing the depressor and emptying the pinkish transparent liquid into Sam’s mouth at one go. The boy arches with an angry whimper, but Dean keeps him securely in place.-Good, that’s my boy, Sammy, he coos. -Not long now, buddy. You get to pick the next song, how about that? Smoke in the Water?Dean presses his lips to Sam’s temple, gently guiding Sam’s ear back against his chest, and the boy calms down there, sobbing softly but not seeming so anxious anymore. They keep rocking like that, Dean’s low baritone rumbling through the air and Sam’s sniffles further and further apart by the minute. Castiel takes the seat from the armchair in the corner, wanting to grant the brothers some privacy but still staying close, ready to help if needed.Sam seems almost to have succumbed to a rest when his body jerks abruptly, drawing an agonized wail from between his lips. Dean is right there, with his kisses, his calming rubs, his soothing words.Castiel stands up, and Dean glances at him shortly. -Heating pad, he mouths inaudibly, and Castiel nods and unplugs the equipment, bringing it closer.Dean shifts so that he and Sam are in the middle of the bed, and Castiel slips the pad behind the small of Sam’s back.-How about some counting, Sam? Dean suggests softly as Sam whimpers again. -Do you remember our little game? Count with me, man, come on.Dean speaks slowly, counting the numbers backwards starting from ten and repeating every number, waiting for Sam to get back at him. At first Sam doesn’t react, but slowly he starts to let out a soft voice after every number. Not long, and Castiel realizes that the boy’s quick, almost panicked breathing and vocalizations of pain start to calm down.He watches as Dean lowers his arm gingerly towards Sam’s lower back, so that at the end the pad stays in place between his arm and Sam. When they are ready, Castiel covers Sam gingerly with the comforter. He feels little apprehensive to take this close contact to the distressed boy, but Sam doesn’t react to his closeness, and Castiel ponders if he can fit into the anxious boy’s current reality at all. In his current mindset, Sam could react to foreign presence with even stronger panic, so Castiel takes the gift as it is.-Thanks, Dean mouths again, nods subtly towards the bathroom. -One more dose ready? Just in case.He lowers his head down, listening to Sam’s breathing, and looks quickly up. -And a sneezer too, he says even softer.Sneezer is something Castiel has never used before. It’s Sam and Dean’s private language, referring to Sam’s suctioning device, meant for cleaning Sam’s airways whenever needed. Castiel leaves silently, filling the syringe with medicine and strawberry juice in the bathroom. When he comes back, he puts the medicine into the table for later and takes Sam’s suctioning tube from its place in the corner, giving the head to Dean. It’s not until now that he hears a soft gurgle and wheezes Sam sports on every breath.Sam seems much more relaxed, the antispasmolytic and sedative effect in his medicine kicking in. He lays eyes half closed, humming brokenly every now and then. Dean still holds him in his arms, stroking him softly as he takes the tube under Sam’s nostrils.-That’s right, Sammy, he reassures. -Just take it easy now. Just a quick sneeze, nothing more, alright?Still humming and providing the close contact, he presses the button that whirls the device alive and swiftly moves the tube under Sam’s nose, cleaning Sam’s mouth and nose from the snot and saliva and then taking it quickly away. The tube is already gone when Sam reacts with a wince and a wail, groggily twitching away from the discomfort. But he’s already back against his older brother's chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and feeling the familiar touch before he can know it, and the warmth and safety cocooning him calms him back down.As Sam calms down, so does Dean, and the brothers stay like that for a long time. Eventually Sam’s whimpers and even the tiniest of winces die down as the boy finally succumbs to a light, drugged sleep.
Castiel lets out a sigh of relief seeing that, the small sound sounding enormous in the confined space.Dean lifts his head gingerly, glances at Castiel shortly and flashes a little smile to him.-He’s feeling better, Dean whispers, not making any attempts to move though. -Thank you, Castiel.-That’s why I’m here, Castiel says softly, meticulously following Sam’s face, now all smooth and restful in a slumber of a kind. -Is this a common thing with Sam?-Not so common, Dean explains, starting gingerly a slow process of untangling himself and laying Sam properly down to sleep. -It’s a vicious circle though: pain causes anxiety and anxiety worsens the pain. The fact that Sam doesn’t completely understand what is happening here makes it even worse.He quiets to concentrate on maneuvering Sam, stopping every now and then as Sam winces and murmurs softly, soon calming back down. It’s a long silence before he goes on.-There has been… a lot going on in our life for quite some time, he eventually says, sounding unsure. -Not you, the other things that happened before you came that still are a pain in the — mmhhh. Dean’s eyes flicker swiftly away, and he gathers himself for a moment. -Sam reads me so well. Too well.He sighs and chuckles, aiming for a nonchalant attitude but Castiel can sense a hint of bitterness underneath. He nods, not wanting the older brother to worry too much.He has read about the connection of anxiety and pain. “Body keeps the score”, he remembers someone saying in the lectures he has sat on during the years. His heart aches at the thought of what kind of things Dean might refer to that are making him feel so distraught and Sam reacting this strongly. But he knows that to ask about those things is a line he can’t cross. It has to be Dean’s decision and initiative. If he ever even wants to tell, that is.-When this kind of thing happens with Sam, do you ever call an ambulance? He asks after a moment of hesitation.Dean’s eyes turn to stone for a second, but then he glances at his brother sleeping now comfortably under his comforters and relaxes again. -No if there’s no palpitations, severe breathing difficulties or if he doesn’t develop a high fever or a seizure from hell, he says. -You saw how he is when he’s anxious. If I call an ambulance in the middle of something like this, the foreign guys come barging in, tell me to back off and give them room to work and they will insert needles and put the clips around and have all those beeping machines. All that… It’s just too much for Sam. Even worse if the guys have no experience with people with disabilities, which is more than usual.Castiel nods, getting the reasoning very well. Dean’s eyes, meticulous and piercing, follow him defensively though, maybe even slightly defiantly.-That’s how we roll, Castiel, he says. -Take it or leave it. I’m not some anti-hospital folio hat. I just know what’s best for my Sammy.Castiel nods, not sure what else there is for him to do. -I’m sure of that, Dean, he says. He arranges the words in his mind for a moment, not sure how to put them the right way for Dean to understand. -I’m not here to judge or evaluate your choices. That’s not my place. I’m simply here to help you, make your everyday life more fluent. I won’t interfere unless you ask me to.It seems the words came out right, because Dean seems to relax a notch more. He looks at Sam again, his face softening instantly. -I just don’t want him to panic even more, is all, he says softly. -He’s had enough of that shit.-I believe you, Dean.They sit in silence for a while, the two men barely knowing each other but brought together by the sleeping younger guy resting in his brother’s lap. It’s peculiar how life has a tendency to bring people to each other’s lives, Castiel ponders. In some other reality, the three of them might pass each other in the supermarket, not acknowledging one another at all or maybe with a little glance or a smile. But here they are, intertwined already although they’ve just met.And somehow Castiel has a feeling that he, a foreign guy, has already heard and seen more of the brothers’ struggles than many.They stay where they are, Dean seemingly not in a hurry to go anywhere. Castiel soon feels, however, that he has to do something. He’s working here anyway now, isn’t he?-Coffee? He asks, almost feeling bad when Dean flinches out of his thoughts.-Yeah, he complies softly. -Black, no sugar. My mug is in the edge of the sink, the one with the text “Sonofa” —Suddenly the man blushes, just a little, and his teeth flash out to gnaw his lower lip in a way Castiel notices to find absolutely adorable.-Sorry, Dean says sheepishly.Castiel shrugs, the smile on his lips growing much bigger than he intended to. -Your house, your rules, he quips, frowning inwards at the levity of his words.But Dean only chuckles at that. -Yeah, he complies. -I guess so.They both stop, looking at Sam, all succumbed to a sleep and looking like nothing unordinary hasn’t happened at all.-It seems I will show you Sam’s TENS machine some other time, Dean says. His voice sounds relieved, and Castiel shares the sentiment full heartedly.When Castiel walks out of the room, he can hear the low baritone hum starting to waft behind him again. It’s soft, and it’s broken, but it carries a message of protection and comfort with it, and Castiel knows it’s the best possible medicine to help Sam resurface and get better again. He smiles softly to himself as he heads for the kitchen and the coffee mug that’s waiting for him already on the counter.