Sincerely Sorry

Summary: Written for Gwenhwyfar1984 as part of the FandomGiftBox challenge. Sam has a serious conversation with Castiel
Warning(s): Minor spoilers from seasons one to six

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Guilt was an almost constant bedfellow for Sam Winchester. He’d grown used to it; perhaps too used to it. It ranged from the big feelings of responsible guilt (Jessica had only been in danger because of him), through to the guilt of what he’d done without his soul (including allowing Dean to be turned into a vampire. What the hell?) and all the way to taking advantage of his friends. Though could he really call Cas a friend anymore? After everything?

“Hey, Earth to Sammy.”

Sam focused on Dean, standing across the other side of the room. Right by the door. Preparing to leave. “Yeah?”

Dean huffed out a breath. “We’re not getting anywhere online. I figure you can stick with the computers and I’ll go round asking the questions. And bring us back takeout. You want a salad, right?”

Sam stared at his brother and then looked back at his laptop, opened up in front of him on the small side table. “Why don’t you stay here and do the research? And I’ll go out and get all of the numbers from the hot girls?”

“Yeah, sure. Nice try, Sammy. I’ll get you a salad on the way back. You want anything more substantial? You know what to do.” Dean opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him.

Sam sighed, turning his gaze back to the computer screen. For a minute; maybe two, tops. Who was he kidding? Focusing on research was next to impossible right now. Dean didn’t seem bothered; didn’t seem to care. Or maybe his brother just hid it far better than Sam could?

His cell phone was on the desk, just in front of the computer. Sam picked it up and stared at the screen. Knew all he needed to do was press speed dial. He could reach out. It didn’t mean he’d get any response, but at least he could try. At least he could make the effort. Make the first move; reach a hand out in peace, for a change.

He dialled.

After only two rings, Castiel’s long-suffering voice responded. “Sam. What do you need?”

“To talk.” Sam swallowed; stared at the news headline lighting up the screen without taking it in. “This a bad time, Cas?”

There was silence; silence that lasted for so long, Castiel could have disappeared from the call entirely. Sam gave another resigned sigh and reached out to disconnect the call.

The sound of wings behind him had Sam casting a glance back over his shoulder and then quickly standing as he saw Castiel standing between the two single beds, looking around the tiny motel room with an expressionless face.

“Cas….” Sam paused, hesitated, took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean you had to come now. I just….”

“You call only when you need something, Sam. You or Dean.” Castiel’s stare was hard; his stance wary. “And if I do not do what you want, or am delayed for any reason, you make threats.”

It would be easy, far too easy, to blame that particular time on his lack of a soul. Soulless or not, he’d still retained enough of himself to want to hunt things. “There are a lot of things I need to apologise for.” Was it just his imagination, or did Castiel’s eyes soften just a little? His stance relax slightly? Emboldened by the angel’s softening, or at least willingness to listen to him, Sam continued, “I know we’ve been taking you for granted for a long time.”

“Is this really an apology, Sam, or another demand for aid disguised in pretty words?” Castiel asked. He glanced around the room. “This is the second time you have summoned me when Dean isn’t present.”

“Not summoned, Cas. Look, I just want to talk. Without threats. Just as friends. Which we always used to be.” Sam spread his hands out, like he was showing his hands were empty. That he was unarmed. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

Castiel moved to the bed closest to Sam and sat down on the edge of it. “Did something happen, Sam?” A genuine note of concern crept into his voice. “Humans only want to right wrongs when they’re dying. Or on their deathbeds.”

“I’ve certainly died plenty of times,” Sam admitted. His voice trailed off, as he remembered. The last time. Of course, that had been about jumping into hell than outright dying. “Guilt’s been a constant companion for me, Cas. There’s a lot I can’t make right. A lot of things I can’t say sorry for. People I can’t say sorry to. I don’t want you to be another regret. Another person I can’t make peace with.”

Castiel looked at him for a long, silent moment before speaking. “What if I tell you that I can’t accept your apology? That everything that’s happened is between us and I don’t see a way to move past it?”

“Then I’ll accept that.” Sam lowered his hands. “I’ll hope you can change your mind, but I won’t force you to forgive me. And I won’t abuse your friendship and trust again,” he promised. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t mean anything if I don’t change. I’ll prove my sincerity through my actions along with my words.”

Castiel stood up, slowly. He stepped nearer to Sam, looking into his eyes for a long, searching moment. Then, he reached out and grasped Sam’s forearm. “I believe you. I believe you’re sorry, Sam.”

“Does it change anything?” Sam whispered.

Castiel nodded. “You weren’t entirely yourself when you were ripped out of hell. Without your soul, you took actions you would never have done when you were whole. I can easily forgive you for those.”

“What about the rest?” Sam asked.

“It will take time,” Castiel replied. “As you said. Actions will prove your sincerity more than words will. But I will give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Okay.” Sam took a deep breath. “Well, Dean’s gone out to get intel on a case. What say you and I do some bonding over Pay Per View?” He picked up the television remote and closed his laptop. “If you have time, that is.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “I have time,” he agreed.

The End