#we are made from the sharpest things you'd say. (chapter ii)

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@fallenangelwings || a meme continuation || from here.

long frame still stretched out and down for the count upon the sofa--sam drifted off into a sleep brought on by blood loss and exhaustion. the bullet had done a number on him. too much blood was lost and the only remedy for that was rest. grace did its job of keeping him alive. that's for damn sure. without castiel being there? had the situation unfolded exactly the same? there's a good chance that his outcome would've been tragically different.

the angel's supply is weak but effective. kept him breathing. shallow and unsteady as it is. turns out? doesn't substitute a blood bank and that's alright. it was enough. a particularly loud crash (aka his brother venting frustration in the way his brother vents it) against the wall is echoed by a barely unconscious, knee jerk grunt. the noise startles sam awake in a violent yank of limbs that finishes with one knee bent and his hands cupping his face to rub off the sudden jolt his sleep being ripped out of his brain rattled his body by.

gold brimmed hazel stare tiredly towards the ceiling. dark circles underneath and pale skin serve to make them appear lighter than they should. "sorry. i..yeah..sorry." apologetic murmur barely above a whisper issued from a pair of lips that form a weak smile to greet the angel with upon turning his head against the armrest that's seen better, fluffier days by about three or more decades worth of years and use.

"dean okay," he asks knowing in his gut where that noise came from. what caused it. even though he's been out, he knows down to his bones what the sound of something smashing against a wall sounds like. for reasons he'd rather not talk about or focus on. pretty much ever.

"..and..uhm. thanks," voice temporarily trails off as his eyelids fight to stay up. they find their willpower after a couple blinks. even focus more on his company. "i owe you. big time."

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@hcpewings || inbox meme sent from this tag! || boops ya there!

"I didn't know who else to turn to." [ from cas! ]

a sudden voice catches him off guard. startles him enough that he jerks his chin up. lips part to draw in a steadying breath. the familiarity of the murmur catches up with castiel swinging into view. setting the remote he was busy using to flip mindlessly through dozens of cheap motel cable channels with nothing on, sam focuses on the angel that randomly appeared from out of nowhere.

asking him for help..

concern fills the younger winchester's expression. a wrinkle of worry stamps itself between his brows. crinkles up his forehead. "what's going on, cas? what happened?"

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@bansheeslain || the other line || accepting!

11﹕ a  text  sent  from  across  the  room . (Eileen)

[ text : eileen ] Wanna make a deal? [ text : eileen ] I'll give you the best back rub you've ever had.. [ text : eileen ] ...If you make up a reason to get out of here.

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@bansheeslain || halloween aesthetic prompts || accepting!

smoke curling into the sky on the horizon

booted feet rest on cool grass. sat upon a blanket on top of the biggest hill he could find--tall trees with their leaves dozens of hues of red, yellow, orange, brown stretch towards the cloudless sky full of millions of bright, twinkling stars. a round, huge moon shines bright in the dark. enough that their colors can be made out even in the night. he's never been one for celebrating halloween. chalks it up to thinking it's sorta dumb. or for kids. most of the time. that's all it takes for people to pry. though he might get a ribbing or two from the true enthusiasts he had as friends throughout the years. goes far deeper than that. those closest to him know..

..when they were kids, dean always tried to get him in some sorta costume. even if it was a hotel room sheet he could con out of a kind, empathetic desk lady (or take directly from the bed itself) with a couple holes cut for eyes. get him out trick-or-treating. anything to throw them into some normalcy this time of year. even if the light of fake enthusiasm never reached either one of their eyes. they pretended. for each other. because that's what brothers do.

tonight, though? he's enjoying himself. warm cider in green thermoses with their metal lids you can use as cups. a blanket slung around both their shoulders. pumpkin treats and cinnamon apples with brown sugar he put together himself. kept warm inside their container til he made them both a bowl and offered eileen hers. in the distance? the town's pumpkin patch is having it's county famous fireworks show. smoke coils up into the sky. but splashes of bright colors explode here, there, all over. once it starts.

"thanks for coming with me," he murmurs--head turned so he can smile thankfully down at her. sam's chest is warm. so's his face. "don't know if this is your thing or not." sam signs the words he knows. makes a promise, in his head, to figure out the ones he doesn't. but he thought, maybe, they could try and make it something for them to enjoy. god knows they've earned it.

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@snnynatural || meme continuation || from this bullshit!

the impala rolls up to the safehouse with sam silent as hell in the passenger seat. he's been buried into research even while they were on the road. much to his older brother's dislike for lack of most conversation and only hmphs and huffs of noises that were supposed to be the obligatory chuckles he knew dean was expecting at mostly self-depreciating humor or making light of the situation he was in. when sam brought it up. which he did. around the fourth time dean kept asking him what was so damn important that he was buried so deep.

as if he didn't know what the answer was gonna be.

searching. board after board. text after text. journal page after journal page. a plethora of knowledge at his fingertips at any given time and there was nothing that he could find that equalled to.. get older brother out of deal with a demon to save younger brother's soul. jack and squat. frustration marred the younger winchester's face. knotted together brows. clenching and unclenching teeth. more than once he sat backwards with his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as he vented some sort've frustration in long exhales against the delicate skin lining the inside of his wrist.

dean was getting pissed. arrived even more pissed but before they pulled off the road, dean--in typical dean fashion--plastered on the same lackadasial grin he is known for and swore that he'd kick sam's ass if he said anything to anyone. including the safehouse's owner.

soles of his shoes against gravel, sam stands up out of the impala and gently swings the door closed. deer-caught-in-the-headlights pause. he meets sonny's reddened eyes and then quickly looks down. a scratch against the back of his head later, he starts approaching while plastering a careful curve onto his lips. "hey, sonny," his voice is quiet--dean's pressing a smooch to her forehead and glaring over his shoulder at sam once he's behind her on his way in. leaving the two of them on the porch and sam holding the bag of shit sandwiches he's been left with.

"....you okay?" how much did she know? how much did she hear?

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@snnynatural || meme continuation || from this baby!

their foreheads pressed together. fingers run along the back of her neck and bury into her hair while she holds his free hand. sam twists his palm around until he can lace all his fingers through hers. as if that simple grip wasn't enough. she draws nearer and a sigh escapes. there's something about her. she brings comfort. quiet. peace. she asks nothing in return. maybe she should if she knew what was good for her. tell him to keep his distance. that smiles at the door, hugs, the occasional stich-up and good food is all there can and will ever be. she doesn't, though. she hasn't. not for a while now. this closeness keeps getting closer. nearer. and the way he feels about her? dangerously warm.

golden hazel eyes close. he nods against her forehead. he knows. she's here. cherishes the moment they are stealing where it's just the two of them and silence. all but their voices, heartbeats and breath. they had a long day. an even longer night. emotions ran high and in their wake? this. "thanks..." he falters. what starts as a kiss to the corner of her temple to express gratitude ends with parted lips grazing over her cheekbone. his fingers curl in dark strands of hair that spill through their lengths. his air's knocked out of him when he touches noses with her and their lips nearly brush.

instead, he hovers above them--eyes barely open. a glance flicked towards them and he seems as if he'll kiss her just before he rolls his tongue out to catch his bottom lip and drag it between white rows of teeth. their eyes meet. his half-veiled by lashes until they drift shut again and, with a duck down, his lips graze the corner of her chin and along her jawline. not fully kissing. his mouth explores her skin and the bone underneath until he's made it next to her ear--her name's whispered just below her earlobe. fingers curl tighter inside silken locks. his fingers clutching hers twitch. an attempt to rein himself in. seems to work. least a little bit. cause his forehead falls to her shoulder with a thud and, "sorry..," is murmured against her collarbone. the last thing he wants is to ruin them. or worse? ruin her and snuff out that spark that's in her eyes when she looks at him. and yet he still holds onto her, so damn tight.

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@untilthcyrot || a meme from this tag! || accepting!

[ stormy ] sender arrives at receiver's doorstep soaking wet ( eileen )

dean's drug cas back to the diner next to their little, rundown but comfortable hotel room. turns out the cooking? way better than the road to get here. with it's potholes and barely there median that left dean cursing under his breath more than once when his beloved car took a particularly hard jerk thanks to pavement that saw it's glory days in the late 50s. what can you expect for an interstate pitstop (cause the only people living there are the ones that've been there since before the road was in its prime) on the outskirts of an abandoned mine town? they've stayed in worse. slept in nastier.

it'll do..

ears perk up at the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof. the pavement outside. a downpour of big, round drops that are prone to lure you to sleep if you tune in. he's got work to do. still--his eyes would be closing a hell of a lot more often if it weren't for the lukewarm coffee beside the laptop he's hunched over when she knocks. sam's outta bed and hurrying to the door expecting to see dean and cas outside with an annoyed angel telling him his brother left the key again. doesn't expect to see her there at this hour. in this weather. not that it is a bad thing! quite the opposite! just.. you know.. unexpected.

sam scrambles to mutter a quick, "h-hey! come in," as he steps back and swings open the door gesturing for her to enter. a warm, content smile lightens his eyes--tints his cheeks. "can't sleep? figured you were long out.. but. guess none of us have a normal sleep schedule." all a part of the gig.

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@huntingxlegacy || a meme reply || doing some inbox!

"You're not fooling me, I can see the bags under your eyes." (From DJ because he is going to call out his old man on his bad habits lol)

you're not supposed to call out your dad like that, dj. sam blows out a breath and replies with an unintelligible murmur at first. muffled by the palm that rubs over his mouth. elbows bent on the tabletop, both hands smooth his hair back out of his face before he cups the back of his neck with the right and angles his sight up to the young man standing beside the chair he's been hunched on for the better part of the last couple hours.

meeting dj's eyes--his father stays silent for a few beats. reading back and forth across that expectant gaze that puts a pang in his belly when he's reminded of a face long gone. the one dj was named after. it's exactly the same kind've look dean would've given him two decades ago. makes him homesick in a way that the soul misses half of something it knows it can't ever get back and yet--is waiting for it when the road comes to an end. whenever that may be.

hands fall to cup palms towards one another. long, deft fingers lace together and sam turns his attention towards the thumbs. left starts to dig some imagined dirt out from underneath the right. "alright. one of those long days. mind sort've got ahead of me before i could flip a u-turn and get it straight again. nothing to worry about, dj. promise. it'll pass. you see your mom anywhere?" look at that attempt to change the subject? like butter! or is it?

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@fcllederage || a meme reply || from the inbox!

"You can barely stand, you need to lie down."

pained eyes squint against the burn of smeared blood that continues to drip down his cheek. the back of his palm accidentally smearing some of it across his eyelid as he rubbed at his face wasn't the plan. but! a wobbly hand worked against him and now he was damn near blind inside the darkened alleyway outside a club that boomed with music playing past it's thick cement walls. you'd swear he was nowhere near the inside of a city as big as the one he and dean rolled into less than twenty-four hours ago with how dark and desolate the side streeet was. around him the city lived and breathed like a sentinent being. her veins filled with people from all walks of life. all having their own stories. all pulled together to be near one another at this point in time. mingling one chapter with another and another until they all blended into the tale that is new york city.

granted. that same throng of people that create the lifesblood of the big apple attract all sorts of evil that is far worse than most of the humans calling this place home can come up with. trust him. he's seen what humans can do to one another. it's been a toss up which was worse.. human or not.. since he was a kid. and what he and his brother (who was missing and sam was killing his way towards finding when he was jumped..) were hunting. a DEMON. one hellbent on drawing sam closer by taking dean. and it is working. only that asshole has back up. and a lot of it. so say the bruises, concussion and cuts into his skin that still spew crimson onto battered fabric clinging to his frame. stopping isn't an option..

yet, sam was leaning against the wall. unaware that the door to the club opened until they were standing in front of him. painted mouth moved with words sam didn't quite get. til he tuned in. voiced concern. an interjection when he chalked himself up to being fine. and his brain kicked into gear trying to come up with some reason he looked the way he did. please don't notice the dead body of the demon's vessel in the dumpster he swung closed before the others arrived. lips roll between his teeth. a shaking hand swings from his side. "i'm okay..," he attempts to reassure as he pushes off the wall, "i need to find my brother," and ends up stumbling right against the poor bystander that seemed like all they were doing before they landed in his world was trying to leave work.

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@cursedhunting || meme catch up || ahh! you're amazin'!

i'm pretty sure you said that to me last time.

" i mean it, though. there's nothing to worry about. i'm good. dean's good. we're just.. doing what we always do." sam buries the truth so deep inside that statement that you'd need both winchesters with shovels to dig that one out. fingers come up to scratch the side of his cheek. golden hazel eyes comb across nat's gaze. he even polishes off his promise with a quick, flittering smile that barely lasts. a sure sign he's done exactly what he's trying to hide. minimalize. drain the meaning of every word down to it's base meaning. give himself a get out of jail free card because no one else is gonna.

and he always gets nervous when attempting this bullshit on people who matter. nat matters. she really does. which fills his gut with guilt that he isn't telling her more. they got this. that's the promise. i mean when don't they? another understatement. sam can count on one hand, immediately without even THINKING, the times they really didn't have it. in spite of what they thought.

one arm slings around her shoulders. he tucks his chin towards his collar. attempting to give her some sorta level look. "i promise. if anything gets too out of hand? i'd tell you. you know i would.." and that much is the truth. right? right.

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a cold splash of dread hits the deepest pit of his stomach. spreads through his veins and sends a chill up his spine. jess starts to let him into parts of herself that he knows she's kept hidden. under lock and key. and he's let her. there hasn't been some hard push for him to shove down her walls and go stomping in without a care to what she might need. what she might feel. what plaster and bricks she's slathered together to build a haven around herself where she feels she's protecting him, he gets it. fuck. down to the core of who he is. sam's done the same thing since he can remember.

always holding his emotions in check because dean's had enough on his shoulders doing the best he could to raise them both. always treading carefully around his own walls because he knows they were built on ground that's getting chipped away. he kept shoving them backwards trying his best to maintain that comfort and peace he found inside them. even if dean attempted to dig in. see what was bothering him. sam would double down and swear it was nothing and the way he could flip a switch and go from pensive thoughts displayed upon his face to bright and happy? should've been frightening to a parent or anyone other than stressed out, spread thin, child himself--dean. who would back off but always knew there was more..

..and yet didn't push. didn't shove. didn't come crashing through any cracks or blacked out windows forcing sam to talk. he always respected his brother for knowing when to back off. kinda iffy on it now and then currently but--it was enough that sam learned valuable lessons. sometimes walls are needed. sometimes walls are what someone truly believes they are gifting you with. sometimes walls are meant to be waited outside until the other person's ready to step through on their own time. and now that she's begun? sam listens. fingers drift through blonde locks in an attempt to soothe. to let her know he's there. that he's not going anywhere..

..even as she begs him not to. he stays silent. lets her get out what she's thinking. feeling. lets what she's thinking and feeling sink in. there's tears that well up in his eyes hearing the worst. so he closes them and nuzzles down into the soft curls atop her head. breathes her in and holds her so damn close that his breath is against her chest. slow and steady. purposefully. breathe with me. we're okay. we're safe. just breathe.

eyes pinch together tight to chase away the tears as she starts to fall into despair over brady. he can see the scene so clearly and yes there's guilt because he loves her more than he loves himself and he'll always feel guilt over this because it's who he is and he can't change that. wishes he could but he can't. there's always gonna be a part of him that blames himself for what happened. but that's selfish to speak about. because she's pleading with him not to believe exactly that. god, he wishes he could give that to her but he can't. drawing in a breath--sam shifts so that he's curled into her side--propped up on one elbow.. most of his frame covers hers. the other arm wraps across her chest, fingertips graze over her temple and he purposefully locks eyes with her.

"jess.. honey." yes, there's redness in his eyes. forgive him. he didn't hide it enough. "honey.. brady wasn't there anymore. i know you know that. it's so damn hard to believe but he was gone. and i'm so sorry he was. but what you did? was exactly what you should've done. god. anything else? would've been---" he shakes his head, a crease of need for her to believe him forms between dark golden hazel. "i love you. i love you with every part of me and no matter what? i'm not going anywhere. jess. sweetheart. i don't think you should go anywhere. i'm not going to push you away. do i want you putting yourself in danger? no. but if that's what you need? then you need it but i want you to let me be there with you when you do. do you see what i am saying?" he hopes she does. cause her running off? disappearing on him? is a nightmare that happens regularly. he'd be devastated. lost. and not give up til he found her again.

"if you ever want out of this.. then you tell me and that's what happens. i'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to. EVER. understand," his chin tucks down and then lips press to her forehead. temple just above where he's not stopped caressing. the corners of each eye. anywhere he can think to pepper another after another. "trust me. please trust me. let me be where you feel safe to say or not say whatever is on your mind. i just want you with me. happy. let me help you through this? as much as you feel like you can. please?"

@crispyblonde

being close to him brought a sense of security and comfort she hadn't felt at all in the time she had spent alive without him. those months were spent in a near constant state of panic and paranoia. was someone coming for her? what was she brought back for? how could she put a stop to any plans others had to use her against sam? she viewed everyone around her as a potential threat -- a potential demon, because that was a life lesson hard-learned.

if she closed her eyes, she could pretend for a moment that they had never been separated. that they were still at stanford, tired after a long day of studying -- rather than the completely different people that now lay together in a motel room bed on their way across the country to the next case. she leans into his hand, the simple touch enough to bring tears to her eyes at the mix of emotions she seemed to be constantly feeling. the loss of her perspective of the world and who she had been, the loss of the life she and sam had been planning out, and the unknown of what the future held from them all in opposition against how natural it still felt between them and how desperately she wished he could have had the life he wanted.

on the subject of talking about it, there's so much she asn't been open about yet. she didn't want him to take that personally, but she worries that there's an invisible line in the sand that she'll one day cross where he'll be pushing her toward living that normal life he likely has lost hope of having for himself. but if she keeps it all in, the nightmares that seep into the waking hours were going to make her implode. memories of the hours before her death are the ones she would do anything to forget.

❝ i love you, sam. so much. that's not something i've ever questioned. and i want to be honest with you. i just -- i know you carry so much trauma with you. you've seen a lot more than me... and i don't want to add to it. i don't want you to feel guilty because what happened was going to happen no matter what either of us did. ❞ a few tears are already trailing down her face as she fails miserably to speak with an even tone, rather than a breathy one full of cracks. ❝ i don't want you to convince yourself that i'd be better off without you because i wouldn't. i don't want you to think i can't handle all of this because -- i can. i know i can. ❞ maybe that comes off a little delusionally self-assured, but she's had plenty of days where she's been mostly fine since they reunited.

❝ i stabbed him. i don't think i've told you that. brady. something seemed so off when i invited him in and when he started -- when he started in on me... i got away long enough to grab one. ❞ even as her own life was hanging in the balance that night, she was beside herself for ever getting to the point of picking up that knife toward a friend that had yet to reveal he was a monster straight from hell. the tears are falling more steadily now and her shaky fingers grip the fabric of his shirt. her chest is tightening and she can't bear to see his reaction. ❝ he laughed -- he just laughed. looked down at the chef knife sticking out of his chest and -- laughed. ❞

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@homelander-rp-blog || ghostbusters original meme! || accepting!

"i want you to concentrate.this is big, this is very big. there is definitely something here." ( thank you so much, friend! that was incredibly sweet for you to say! you're rad yourself! )

"alright. alright. you have my attention. now.. if you don't mind? can you tell me exactly what i'm supposed to be concentrating on? when you say big? that can mean a lot of things in my book.." like end of the world big? pack of werewolves big? god deciding he's going to create another world where everyone's in a super mario game and toss them all in it? in sam winchester's book? big has dozens of definitions.

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@justsurv1vor || prompts for found families / adopted families || accepting!

maybe you should stick around for a while. ( from aiyla )

balled up hands are shoved in sam's pockets. he smiles an uneven sorta half-grin before he tucks his chin down and aims it towards the ground instead. a brow's arched when he looks up without lifting his head and meets her eyes. "you think so?" he's not sure how long dean's giving them in this town now that the job's done. only til they get the next one, no doubt. or they're back on their dad's tail again. it won't be long. it never is. something he's been used to his whole life. except a tiny fraction of it where he was able to stay put. fleeting as that was.

"don't know how long dean's gonna let us stick around but.. anyway. we're here for now.. what is there to do? besides. you know? get in trouble with the locals for being too nosey?"

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@hellsfavor || a meme continuation || from here!

sam gets it. shitty coping skills are a dime a dozen in the winchester family line. from bottling troubles up. to drinking them away. punching til your knuckles bleed. or, hell, running face first into a battle that you damn well might lose. those are just tiny drop in a bucket full of examples that he could list off the top of his head. yeah. he understands. which is why when he asks if she wants to be left alone? seeing as how the mere approach of his footsteps seemed to grate on her nerves? sam doesn't stand there trying to rationalize with her and let her know that she might just need someone to talk to. not with that amount of vitrol spit in his direction. a brow lifts. his head cocks to the side. and he takes what she dishes out without it digging under his skin. he's had much worse from flesh and blood. considering who his brother and father are?

hands come up. palms out. as if someone showing they have no weapons. or are giving up. "i'll make it much less impossible. deal? fucking off as we speak." and with that? the younger winchester shoves his fists into his pockets, abruptly turns on his heel and starts walking back in the direction of his and dean's crappy motel of the day. not a word to the contrary. everyone's got shit on their plate. he gets that. but the last thing either one of them need? is for him to stay where it's clear to see he is very unwanted.

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tongue sneaks out over dried lips. sam didn't realize his mouth was cracked open--confusion--until they felt like the sahara on a dry spell from breathing over them. slow and steady. an attempt to keep himself calm. not resort to voicing the growing frustration that started this freaking mess. the look of someone who needs help. keeps bouncing in his head. fighting his resolve.. but he hangs on. desperately.

wasn't supposed to wind up this way. asking dean to join. sam's been going solo and doing a damn good job keeping his lack of retirement to himself. except dean. he knows. when nostalgia hits. sam picks up that phone and whether needed or not.. he calls him.

maybe it's selfish. no, not maybe. it is. surprise turn of events in their lives. dean being the one who got out. while sam keeps getting pulled back in. who would'a thought? supposed to be the other way around in most people's eyes..

sam just has a hard time sleeping at night and not doing something. or maybe it's the bone gnawing quiet. he's working towards it. taking on less and less. dean--though? as sam tentatively leans against the opening of the kitchen--tells him this is it. the last one. will it be? maybe.. with that look on his brother's face? probably..

there were some sort've agreeable written on sam's tongue. waiting for him to give them a voice. that dean should stick to his life. call it quits. might be what pushes sam to toss in the tattered pieces of the towel he keeps hanging onto. they are torn off before they see the light of day. by a good ol' fashioned dean finisher. sam's hand swings up and out, pulling his head cocked to the side with an invisible thread. "shoulder the.. wh--what?" eyes search dean's. a raw nerve was just hit. hard.

"..you think i need you to protect me? you think i'd ask you for help if i did? dean.." a hurt flustered huff, sam cracks a smile that doesn't meet his eyes. "i just wanted you here, man. maybe i.." he caves. "it's not important. you're right. it was a mistake. for both of us. i'm sorry, dean. go back to..whatever." a kick of his elbow against the wall shoves him in the trajectory walking past dean to get anywhere that isn't here.

𝐓he look of someone lost ˏturning to the nearest eldest person for some ounce of guidance 。He’s seen it before to many times 。Visage managed to tighten a bit ˏ shit ˏ he has caused more issues now more than ever 。Discussion 。A never ending discussion of the stress he has been put through ˏ a part of him wished he never took this job 。A small sigh escaped his throat as thick digits carefully ran through blonde locks gaze averting elsewhere 。

❛ 𝐈 don’t think we should talk about this Sam 。The case is closed the most we can do now is return to our lives so I’m going to call it a night 。 ❜

Avoiding another fight ˏ it’s the least he can do in this moment 。Allowing his arms to stretch to release any built up tension his eyes fixated elsewhere before his body turned to walk the opposite direction 。Keep going 。Yet he opted to moving into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water instead 。

❛ 𝐈 think this is going to be the last case ˏ It was wrong of me to miss the action the thrill of the hunt Sam 。I got a life outside this ˏ my life ˏ finally has meaning to it outside of saving people 。 So tell me Sammy why do you still give me the look that you always do when you need protecting .ᐣ The look of something raw and innocent .ᐣ Like you’ve lost all the hope in the world and need someone to shoulder the burden instead .ᐣ ❜

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@murderdeals || not sure where this came from but i heard his voice so clearly! || always accepting crowley!

" don't make promises you can't keep, darling. " Crowley

desperate times call for equally desperate measures. judging by who sam was reaching out to for HELP? must be glaringly obvious the younger winchester decided that desperate levels had been reached, bypassed and circled back to half a dozen times. the stone steps outside the closed library is home to their secret rendevous. outside of ear and eyeshot of the person he's attempting to help. of course it'd involve saving dean from something. it wouldn't be for himself that sam drew on the attention of crowley for.

"no. i mean it. you help me get this taken care of before he pulls off this idea he's got?" sam's tone. his expression. the way his gaze is locked directly into crowley's dark stare? i mean it doesn't cover his determination. "i'll do whatever it takes. owe you whatever you want. just--i can't have him that close to the edge again. not now. and this stays between us. promise me."