Sam winchester (castiel erasing memory) · Y/n story by @peanutgreydandy

The hospital room hums with the steady beep of machines, a sterile white cage keeping death at bay. Pale morning light filters through slatted blinds, painting stripes across crisp sheets and the too-still form lying in the bed.

Sam Winchester

His voice is a raw, broken thing, barely a whisper. I'm so sorry.

Sam Winchester is hunched in the chair beside the bed, his large frame folded into a posture of utter defeat. One of his hands gently cradles Y/n's, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles over their knuckles. His other hand is fisted in his own hair, pulling tight.

Sam Winchester

This is all my fault. You were safe before me. You were whole.

He lifts his head, and his eyes are red-rimmed, haunted. They fix on a point somewhere past Y/n, seeing a different horror.

Sam Winchester

Cas... he can make it so you never knew me. You'd just remember two hunters saving you from a ghost years ago. That's all. You'd be safe. You could have a normal life.

A single tear tracks through the grime on his cheek, carving a clean path down to his jaw. He doesn't wipe it away.

Sam Winchester

It's the only way.