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Castiel didn't like storms. Sam didn't pick up on it right away, but after six months of traveling with the angel, he started to notice that dark skies usually led to an empty backseat. He didn't know why, if maybe angels were like cats, in that they hated to get wet, or if maybe there was actually some truth to those old stories about thunder coming from angels bowling, and he wasn't about to ask. But it was something to think about, and turning the question over in his mind helped while away the long hours and miles spent cooped up in the car watching the countryside slide by.
He'd actually considered asking Castiel about it once or twice, but almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind he realized what a stupid idea that was. Sam wasn't Dean; he couldn't call the angel Cas with his brother's easy manner, couldn't continually push chili cheese fries on a being that had seen the creation of everything or tell something that could destroy him with a thought to 'lighten up' the way Dean did. And while Castiel might actually answer Dean if he asked, Sam was more likely to get that tilt of the head that said clearer than words that the angel couldn't even begin to fathom why he existed, let alone what right he thought he had to question whatever Castiel might choose to do. So he kept his mouth shut and confined himself to theories and speculation.
Personally, Sam loved storms - the boom of thunder overhead, the flash of lightning as it lit the sky and turned night to day, the gentle kiss of rain against the windows and on his skin. Especially the rain, that was his favorite. He liked the smell of ozone in the hours before a storm broke and the changing light as it rolled in, liked to sit in the car with the soft patter of raindrops on the window and the low hum of the radio in the background, and he especially liked going outside after a storm. Everything always looked so bright, like the rain had washed it all back to the start. When he was younger, he used to think that Eden had been like that, every day like the world after the rain, fresh and clean and new.
It was the longing for that feeling that drove him out into the rain just outside of Charlotte. A summer storm had materialized seemingly out of nowhere, the light rain sending welcome tendrils of cool air creeping into their motel room, and it wasn't long before Sam made an excuse to slip outside, claiming that he wanted a soda from the gas station down the street. Dean grunted in acknowledgment, too tired or too used to his brother's absences during rainstorms to notice, and that was all it took for Sam to grab his wallet and motel key and hurry outside.
Summer rains had always been some of his favorites; they cooled his overheated skin but didn't chill him to the bone, and the sound of the raindrops always seemed softer and more welcoming, like the rain itself was beckoning him outside. Sam headed for the station, but he kept his steps slow and didn't take the shortest route, like he knew Dean would have. They'd had so little pleasure in their lives lately that he felt almost guilty at the thrill of freedom and happiness that just walking in the rain gave him, but he figured they were both due a little something. Surely the God that had sent Castiel to retrieve Dean from Hell was the same one that had made summer rains, so He wouldn't begrudge Sam a little respite from the war to walk in one... would He?
Sam tried to ignore the niggling thought at the back of his mind that Castiel's God probably wouldn't approve of him and his demonic heritage any more than Castiel did. He didn't want to dwell on angels or demons or wars right now, not when there was a sweet, soft rain to walk in. When he got to the station, he went in and bought a bottle of Snapple, grinning to himself when he thought about the teasing he'd take if Dean had come with him. It'd probably be yet another 'girly drink' for Dean to scoff at, but the crisp apple taste was light and refreshing, and he sipped it slowly as he strolled back to the motel, feeling lighter and more at peace than he had in quite some time.
But if there was one thing Sam had learned by now, it was that the universe was rarely willing to suffer peace to least for long. So it really shouldn't have come as any surprise that waiting for him outside the door to their room was one exceptionally grumpy angel. Sam sighed and finished off the Snapple, tossing it into the trash can outside before he walked up to the door, Castiel's fierce scowl following him every step of the way. "Hi, Castiel," he greeted the angel.
"You are not to leave your brother's sight without my knowledge," he spat back. "If I am to keep you both safe, I must be aware of your whereabouts at all times."
Sam blinked, caught off-guard by Castiel's vitriol. It was no secret that he didn't approve of him, but he'd never attacked him like that. "I just went for a walk," he pointed out. "It was raining and -"
"Exactly! And what if you and Dean were needed immediately?"
"Look, Cas -" When the angel's scowl deepened, Sam quickly added, "-tiel. I just wanted a little time to myself to enjoy the rain, okay? I promise I won't do it again without telling Dean where I'm going, how's that?"
When Castiel frowned, Sam was sure he was going to reject the offer and do something to magically chain him to Dean's side, but instead he sighed and nodded. The jerky bob of his head made it clear he wasn't exactly thrilled with the deal, that he found it wanting just like he'd found the Winchesters to be very far from what he wanted them to be, but at least he was trying. And that deserved a reward, didn't it, some kind of olive branch to keep whatever peace they could have going a little while longer?
Sam held his hand out with a smile. "C'mon, I'll show you where I went if you want." Maybe a walk in the summer rain and a Snapple could ease some of the tight set to Castiel's shoulders.
Castiel's eyes flicked down to his hand and he turned away without a word, his contempt for Sam clear in every line of his body. Without thinking, Sam lunged forward to grab his arm, yanking him off-balance, his grip the only thing that kept the angel from sprawling across the pavement. He ignored the inarticulate cry in favor of shoving Castiel up against the wall next to the door. "Okay, that's it. I've been trying to be nice and you're - terrified."
It was true. There was no denying the flash of fear in the wide blue eyes that shot up to meet his before they slid away, or the fine tremor he could feel working its way through the angel's frame. His arm under Sam's grip was tense, as though he'd vanish the second Sam let go, which only made him tighten his grip until he was sure he was bruising him. But it was the thought of Castiel's eyes that turned his stomach and made him swallow thickly as he stepped back. "I'm sorry." God, was he really such an abomination, that his very existence was enough to frighten an angel?
He turned towards the door when a hand closed over his wrist and tugged him backward. "I am not afraid of you, Samuel," Castiel said in a low voice.
Sam let out a choking laugh. "Just of whatever made me? Because you were - I didn't mean to, but -"
"God made you," Castiel said firmly. "And I fear nothing God made." Sam might've believed him if a lightning flash hadn't lit up the sky and he didn't see Castiel flinch at the roll of thunder that followed it.
"It's the rain, isn't it?" he asked softly. "You're afraid of it." He felt like kicking himself, wondering how he'd never thought that it might be fear that caused Castiel to leave whenever a storm was close. Castiel's grip tightened briefly on his wrist and Sam took a step closer, drawn towards those blue eyes almost against his will. "Why - I mean, is it your wings or something?"
Castiel looked puzzled. "My wings? What would that have to do with -" Another lightning flash and thunderclap cut him off, and this time Sam saw him shudder. And yeah, Castiel was a dick a fair percentage of the time, but that didn't mean Sam had to be, as well.
He brought his free hand up to the angel's shoulder, giving him the same gentle squeeze that Dean had always used to calm him down after his nightmares. "It's okay," Sam assured him. "Whatever it is, it's okay."
For a long minute, Castiel didn't reply, just looked down at the hand he had wrapped Sam's wrist. "Do you know what lightning is?" he finally asked quietly. "Not what humans perceive it as, but what it truly is."
From the sound of the question, Sam doubted he was looking for an explanation of electricity, so he just shook his head. "It's the remnants of Lucifer's Fall," Castiel explained. His thumb stroked slowly over the inside of Sam's wrist, a slow sweep that Sam doubted he was even aware of. "When he was cast down, he tore through the sky so quickly that he - a part of his Grace was torn from him, and it stayed there. An archangel's Grace remains connected to them as long as they live, and when Lucifer -"
"When he suffers?" Sam guessed, remembering some of the stories he'd read in Bobby's books when he was younger, stories of unhappy gods being the cause of lightning. Apparently people used to know more of the truth than he'd realized. It made sense, though; both the part about Lucifer's Grace and the reason Castiel hated storms so much. If he'd had to witness some kind of natural phenomenon every time Dean hurt in Hell, Sam was sure he'd have gone mad within a month, and Castiel had seen lightning for thousands of years. No wonder he feared storms.
"I have not taken human form in a long time," Castiel said, shuddering when another flash lit the sky around them. "I had forgotten how... difficult it is to witness his pain so closely."
Sam had no idea why he did it; one second he was looking down at Castiel's face, where a sorrow more profound than anything he'd ever seen was clearly visible, and the next, he'd closed the distance between them, his lips settling lightly over the angel's. The kiss was chaste and short, but Sam was smiling as he pulled back. "I won't go for any more walks in the rain for a while," he promised. He wasn't quite sure how that might help ease some of Castiel's distress, but if it could, it was a small thing to give up. Wide blue eyes stared at him and it was tempting to steal another kiss before Castiel realized what he'd just done and called the wrath of Heaven down him. Sam settled on squeezing his shoulder instead. "Come on, let's go inside. We can order pizza and see if there's a halfway decent movie on TV."
The angel answered with another of those jerky head bobs and Sam grinned, then hurried to get the door open. If he agreed to make both pizzas meat lover's, he could probably get Dean to give him the remote for the rest of the night and he fully intended to find something loud to watch, something that might drown out at least a little of the thunder and make the storm more bearable for Castiel until it passed.