SASSY \o/

[hils]

SASSY COMMENT FIC MEME

1. Leave prompts - All prompts should be Sam and Castiel centric. Either as a pairing or gen about them and their friendship

2. Fill the prompts - If your fic is too long for one comment just reply to part one with part 2 (don't leave a new comment with each part or it makes it hard to follow the thread) or leave a link

3. Have fun and PIMP

Comments

[obstinatrix.livejournal.com]

Cas doesn't know who he is and he doesn't know who Sam is, but he knows he's someone important. SO do the nurses, if only because Cas keeps writing I LIKE SAM on the wall in the asylum.

Fill: Oblivion, amnesiac!Castiel/Sam [1/?]

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

NB: Absolutely zero research has been carried out as to what real asylums are like for the purpose of this fic, so if you require a realistic asylum to enjoy a story, I apologise for the Hollywoodism of this.

- - -

DEAN

DEAN

SAM

I LIKE SAM

I LIKE SAM

I LIKE SAM

I LIKE SAM



Castiel was tired of answering questions to which the doctors should have known he did not have an answer. He did not know the names that kept coming up when he was sleep-walking, or how he burned them into his cell wall. He'd been searched repeatedly for lighters and matches, and he did not remember any of the guards or other patients passing him anything. He just knew that Sam and Dean kept coming up in the words that were recognisable, while others were just shapes - familiar shapes, but nothing English and nothing he could understand.

In hypnotherapy he was much the same, talking in guttural syllables but occasionally lapsing into English when mentioning the elusive Sam and Dean. He didn't know who they were, just that he couldn't forget their names.

And, apparently, that he liked Sam.



After he woke up to find his cell in flames, they had moved him into one specifically designed for observation. He couldn't explain how his room had caught fire, or why he was miserable to have lost the writing on the walls. He didn't understand it, so why did he miss it?

He did know that he hated sleeping. He told them he didn't need to, but they refused to believe him - maintaining mental health was easier with normal sleeping patterns, apparently - and every night they administered shots to keep him sleeping.

They didn't take very well to monitoring him. No one would show him why - excuses were made about the recording stream having been interfered with - but he knew something was wrong. Everyone who had seen it looked at him strangely - even stranger than they did the other patients - and he heard whispers about the burn marks that had appeared while he was asleep.

He hadn't written them. They had appeared around him.

[obstinatrix.livejournal.com]

Sam has a superhumanly massive dick. Cas would like to ride it.

Pony Up

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Sometimes Sam was sure Castiel is looking at him strangely. There's this focus in his stare that makes Sam feel uncomfortable. At first he put it down to the fact Cas knew all the things he had done - had told him about them too - while soulless.

It was a cold night. Dean was off wrapping the Impala in swaddling cloth or something and Sam was trying to stay warm in the old house they'd squatted in this time. With squatting, they tended to sleep in different rooms, privacy at a cost. Sam was so focused on ensuring that his every inch was covered by as many layers as possible that he missed Castiel’s entrance. He missed Castiel coming close enough to lay a hand on Sam’s shoulder and warm every one of the layers through.

“Cas. Hey. Dean’s-“ Sam thought he covered his start well. Castiel didn’t even pick up on it, kneeling down beside Sam, keeping a grip on his shoulder.

“I have been thinking.” That seemed to be all Cas was willing to say. Sam even tried nodding, encouraging. Cas smelled clean, cleaner than someone who just stepped fresh from a shower. There was a freshness in the way that Castiel smelled, like he had been newly minted. Sam knew everything the angel had been through but it didn’t make him seem any less otherworldly. “I have been thinking,” Castiel repeated.

“About what?” Sam had to know.

“About you.” Okay then.

“That’s nice.” What was Sam supposed to say? “Anything wrong?”

“I do not know. I want to look at…you.” Sam picked up on the hesitation but he allowed Castiel to push him back, flat on the mattress of dubious origin that he’d claimed for his own. Better than the floor. He didn’t even object when Cas started pulling away the layers. He seemed focused on Sam’s belly, something Sam didn’t want to think too much about. Maybe he was checking for scars from the time he’d shoved his fist inside Sam. Then his hands brushed lower, definitely focusing on Sam’s crotch. He lay as still as he could, trying not to enjoy the feel of someone else’s hands on his cock.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam had to interrupt when Castiel went for his zipper.

Castiel stopped and pinned Sam with his eyes. His pupils were huge in the darkness, drowning out the unearthly blue. Sam’s protest caught in his throat and Castiel returned to his task, drawing out Sam’s cock. It hardened in Cas’ tentative hands and Sam bucked up into them, unwilling and unaware. “Sorry. Uh. It’s been a while.”

“I know.” Castiel’s voice didn’t sound any different but when he looked at Sam that strange uncomfortable look made sense. “It is as I remembered.”

Castiel rose to his heels, leaving Sam’s cock to smack once against his belly. Sam circled his hand around it, feeling the familiar weight and heft. “Okay.”

Then Cas was naked. His body was slender, paler, with skin utterly devoid of scars. It wasn’t free of imperfections, although it felt blasphemy to term them such. Small freckles dotted Cas’ pale skin and Sam was suddenly taken with the urge to lick them, especially the one tantalisingly close to Castiel’s nipple which strained in the cold air, hard and pointed. Sam felt his cock twitch.

“I dreamed of you, Sam. I dreamed of you even when I knew it was wrong.” Castiel’s words were hushed as if he was speaking to himself. Sam found himself unable to move – not through any supernatural means, just pinioned by the sight of Castiel’s fluidity as he rose up and straddled Sam on the dingy, stained mattress. Castiel held Sam’s cock steady, ignoring the half formed protest on Sam’s lips as he lowered himself down, stretching around Sam’s girth as if he had been made to do it. “I dreamed of this.”

[obstinatrix.livejournal.com]

SAM WAS GLITTERY AND CAS LICKED IT OFF.

[majestic-shriek.livejournal.com]

WANT! I may have to write this on the train.

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Soul fisting. Sam likes it.

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Cas is fascinated with Sam's hair - petting it, sniffing it and so on...

[hils.livejournal.com]

ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL OVER THIS ONE! Obviously.

I shall be back to fill when I am not at work.

[hils.livejournal.com]

Cas is the only thing that keeps Hallucifer at bay so he becomes Sam's comfort blanket

[orbiting-saturn.livejournal.com]

Not sure what this is, but it's a little all over the place stylistically. There's a jump from past to present tense that may or may not work.

~*~

When Castiel returned, he was something new. Again. For unknown eons, Castiel was an angel, constant and unchangeable, cold and obedient. Four years in the company of the Winchesters and Castiel has become a kaleidoscope, prismatic, color moving and riotous. Once an angel, then a rebel, rebel angel turned human, human angel rebuilt. He became a general, a traitor, a god and a madman. Castiel knelt as a penitent to creatures less than him and housed creatures greater. And then Castiel was a sinking ship, dipping under cold waters and abandoned to the black.

Sam can relate. There’s no other lifeline that’s taken so many detours and careened off the map quite so wildly as Sam’s, none other than Castiel’s. Who would have thought that the boy with the demon blood would find a kindred spirit in a broken angel?

Now, Castiel is not quite an angel and he’s not quite a man. He isn’t a monster, but he’s not a saint either. Castiel can’t fly anymore, but he can still mask himself from detection. He can’t burn out demons, but he can bind them. Castiel can’t travel through time and journey to Heaven and Hell, but he still packs one hell of a punch and speaks languages that have been dead for centuries. What powers he retains aren’t waning, so Castiel remains this changed thing, half of what he was with no hope of becoming more.

Castiel is not Dean’s friend anymore, but he’s Sam’s and that’s possibly the most jarring change of them all. Dean suffers Castiel’s company reluctantly, too hurt by his perceived betrayal, but unable to deny the calming effect he has on Sam.

Whatever Castiel is now, whatever he has been or will be, Sam will happily accept, so long as he stays. Sam only knows that when Castiel is with him, Lucifer is gone. Sam’s aware, in some vague way, that Lucifer is a product of his imagination, nothing more than a mocking embodiment of Sam’s tortured psyche. But if Lucifer is bad, then Castiel is the good. Lucifer is dark and Castiel is light. Even if the connection is just another creation of Sam’s half-gone mind, he can’t find any shame in the groaning relief it gives him.

Castiel sleeps now, but must remain with Sam at all times. So, at first, they shared a room. Now they share a bed, or a pallet, two sleeping bags tucked side by side. If Sam wakes in the night, sweating and gasping from nightmares, one of them can reach for the other and all of the despair will just slip away under the slide of skin on skin.

[hils.livejournal.com]

Cas goes overboard trying to make up for bringing down Sam's wall

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

LOL. THISSS.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

S7 AU, I guess?

Fallen!Cas doesn't have much by way of grace anymore, but he can still sense whatever traces of Lucifer linger in Sam. He finds he more than likes it, starts finding excuses to be with Sam all the time and touch him more than usual...

fill: are in your favor (human!cas/sam, ~600 words)

[ricketyhands.livejournal.com]

i hope this is enough along the lines of what you wanted! wonderful prompt, hope i did it at least partial justice.

--


They put up with it because he’s their friend. Dean says words like fragile, and he might break at any time, but Sam isn’t sure what he means. Castiel looks the same as ever, except maybe he wrings his hands more often and walks into the bathroom sometimes just to stand and stare in the mirror. Often Dean walks out of motel rooms with a sigh and says, “Do some research,” and Sam knows he doesn’t mean about Leviathans.

The world crumbling just doesn’t matter. Sam used to be a fighter, but he also used to believe in angels.

Sometimes Castiel’s fingers grip his arm and Sam will turn around to look at him – often Cas doesn’t say anything but stares instead and then smiles just barely. It’s almost frightening, but Sam smiles back and hopes he makes it easier.

“I’m very tired,” Castiel says, sitting on the bed. It creeks under his weight and he rests his head in his hands. Sam turns his eyes away and then sits on the second bed. Castiel looks up, shifting his head to the side. “Are you alright, Sam?” There’s something changed in his voice that Sam can’t place. He hardly asks questions like this anymore. His concern is replaced by disorientation and though Sam doesn’t know what it feels like to be an angel, he does know the aches that come with being human.

“I know you’re tired,” Sam answers slowly, trying to shift the topic from himself. “I’m tired, too.” It takes a moment for him to admit it. “I can still feel him.”

“I know.”

-

Castiel’s mouth is soft and warm and welcoming when it opens against Sam’s. He doesn’t want this – he tries to convince himself that this is wrong but Castiel’s fingers are on the nape of his neck and he finds himself gripping Cas’ hair and pulling him in tight at the waist. Sam isn’t sure what he’s looking for – what he expects to find – but maybe Castiel knows.

They’re both breathing deeply when Castiel sets himself back down on the soles of his feet, hands moving to cup Sam’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers but his voice is hollow and he’s staring at Sam’s open mouth like he’s waiting for something to come out. “He tortures you daily and I can feel it, but I can’t stop it.”

Sam moves to wrap his fingers around Cas’ wrist. “Lucifer,” he whispers, “can you taste him?”

Castiel’s fingers trail down his chin and rest on Sam’s collar bone. “Whenever I touch you.”

Sam shivers and leans down. Their foreheads brush together first before Castiel tilts his head up and their lips meet again. It’s a kindness on both of their parts, a mutual connection where Sam gets to pour Lucifer’s vengeance back into Cas' human soul. His heart pounds in his chest, and he still feels broken but it’s somehow more bearable.

“He was my brother,” Castiel manages quietly, his free hand finding Sam’s jaw and cupping it. “And I’m so very sorry.”

It’s oddly soothing to hear Castiel say those words, and they kiss again, more slowly. Dean won’t be back for a while, this Sam knows, because Dean rarely comes back anymore.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

Entirely AU.

Sculptor!Sam becomes enthralled with the live model posing for him. (Or, you know, vice versa. I can totally live with that.)

Happy Thoughts

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Seriously, fuck you, I spent my whole day writing this XD

He imagines, when he shapes the clay, that he's not so much creating as discovering. Casting aside obstructions and needless space, pulling the figure out of shapeless space and into definition and reality. He's always seen clay as a medium of potential -- the sculpture is there, living inside it. All Sam has to do is pull away everything that's not him, and he will emerge, perfect as life, each muscle and sinew the immaculate echo of reality.

Now as he works, the line of a thigh emerges, the bent crook of an elbow. And it's different this time, with this model. Sam has been sculpting him for a week now. He’s also seen him walking down the street on the way home from work, strangely awkward and stiff. He’d seemed then like the kind of man who was anxious about everything, but here in the studio he's languid and comfortable, like he's shed his anxieties along with his clothes and is now in his natural state of (beautiful) repose and tranquility. His head tips to the side as he lounges on the floor, cheek coming to a rest on the seat of the chair the studio has provided for him.

It's twilight, and the studio's mostly emptied for the day, though it's technically open until midnight. The night owls will flock in soon, but for now it's Sam and it's this model, whose name Sam doesn't know, but who waits patiently, not breaking the stillness to urge Sam to hurry, though Sam thinks he must be getting tired. The setting sun, filtered through New York's awakening streetlights, hits the model's face, and Sam wishes for a moment he worked in colors just so he could capture the effect.

"Um," he says, clearing his throat to get the roughness out of his tone, "if you want to take off, you're welcome to."

"Are you finished?" The model's voice is unusually low. Far different than Sam expected. Earthier, more gravelly, and Sam has to fight down a rush of arousal.

"I--" He's not finished, but the shapes he wants to sculpt are burned into his head now, and he doesn't need to delay the model any longer. "I'm close enough."

"I'll stay until you're finished," the model says.

More...

[hils.livejournal.com]

Cas/Robo!Sam doing anything really

[rayvlin.livejournal.com]

Cas can't stop masturbating, it gets complicated.

Fill: Trial Run [1/2]

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

As in most things, it was all Dean's fault.

Dean was the one who suggested that Castiel get used to being the sole occupant of his vessel by enjoying solo privileges. He'd even gone as far as to show Castiel how to browse the Internet for porn - "human research", as Dean put it - before leaving him to it.

Sam was the one left clearing up the figurative mess. Not the literal mess, thank God, Castiel at least grasped the use of tissues, but he was the one who Castiel chose to ask for advice when his hands were no longer "satisfactory".

Sam could honestly say there was no world in which he could have predicted that he would some day end up taking an angel into a sex shop to advise him on different sorts of toys.



Sam liked that Castiel had taken to staying with them overnight since his escape from Leviathan, but the buzzing was starting to be an issue. Why couldn't Castiel have chosen a fleshlight? Why had Sam bought the vibrator for him?

Why were these questions he was having to ask?

Dean was a lucky son of a bitch, able to simply say, "I don't wanna know" before going to sleep, while Sam was left restless courtesy of the rhythmic buzzing from the room next to them.

At least Castiel understood that this wasn't something you did in company, but that didn't save Sam's ears from the buzzing - or from noticing that the buzzing had been going on for half an hour.



Three days of not sleeping properly ensued before Castiel finally took Sam aside and said, "I have not yet orgasmed. Would you help?"

Sam probably should have started running, but sometimes his dick was a fair bit louder than his brain, and he couldn't begin to pretend it was a completely altruistic decision when he squeaked, "Okay."

[eosrose]

Robo!Sam's sexcapades inevitably lead to trouble. Cas takes action, demanding that if Sam needs release, he'll turn to Cas and no one else.

Maybe slight D/s? Mostly I want Cas all bossy and possessive (with a dash of guilt and angst, if you're so inclined).

Mating fic!

[eosrose]

Cas claims Sam as his mate and taunts Lucifer while he does it. Maybe Lucifer got to Sam first, but Cas will be Sam's last.

Lucifer seethes with jealous fury.

[eosrose]

Sam thinks Cas has forgotten the rules of "personal space" and appropriate/inappropriate touching and reverted to old habits. He goes with it, amused but unconcerned. Maybe angels are just more tactile than humans; it's not like a little cuddling or hand-holding will kill him...

Months later Sam finally realizes that he and Cas are actually dating.

Good Touch, Bad Touch

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Fluffiest thing ever. Sorry.

Cas was standing too close to him again. Sam had turned to put his coffee cup on the table and Cas was there, right as his elbow. Sam controlled his urge to jump and was grateful when Cas took the cup from him and placed it out of danger. Sam turned back to the witness and tried to ignore the angel plastered along his side.

Personal space. It had been one of those on-going discussions that always made Sam feel mildly uncomfortable. Dean had taken to stepping back, out the sphere of Castiel’s influence but Sam felt uncomfortable doing it. Cas had been through so much and if he wanted to stick close by, it lessened the whole “might possibly turn evil” thing that Cas had admitted to being worried about.

It was kinda nice to have the warmth of another person pressed up close beside him in restaurants and bars, and in supermarkets. And when questioning witnesses… The best one was the time Sam and Dean had headed to the movies for a little R’n’R (and to check whether the old movie theatre was as haunted as rumour suggested. Which it wasn’t). Castiel had plastered his hand to Sam’s, clutching it tight. Sam had let him hold on, even stroking his fingers over the top to help Cas calm down and provide some comfort.

After that, Cas seemed to clutch to Sam even more – holding hands in places where two men walking down the street holding hands would not quite be advisable. Sam made it work, glaring at anyone who looked askance. Dean bit back a million comments, eyes dancing, but mainly he seemed to enjoy the coos from waitresses and “adventurous girls, Sammy, looking for a little spice”. Cas even lay beside him in bed, tucked under his arm. Manly it was not, but everyone needed a comforting touch now and again. It was as if that aborted hug had never happened.

It was three months later, when Sam turned to Cas, who, as usual, had his arm slung around Sam’s waist while Sam had his arm across Cas’ shoulders. Sam dipped his head and dropped a kiss onto Cas’ upturned mouth without even thinking. They were in the middle of the street, outside a pet store, watching the kittens fall over each other in the window. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. Sam stopped, mouth over Cas’, and the thoughts raced through his brain. What was he doing? Cas wasn’t gay? He was mostly not gay? They were buddies, not boyfriends.

No. Wait.

Cas pressed up, kissing Sam a little more firmly. When Sam drew back, he saw the look in Cas’ eyes and decided, all at once, that yes, boyfriends sounded right.

[rrrowr.livejournal.com]

Sam and Castiel have an arranged marriage. Sam is sure that he's going to dislike Cas right off the bat because what he's met of Cas' family have all been assholes, but when they finally meet...

[rrrowr.livejournal.com]

Accidentally telepathic bonds leading to the best sex ever.

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

How long will we be like this? Sam wonders, to which Castiel thinks, Until the effects of the incantation wear thin, I suppose.

"Damn it, Cas," Sam huffs, turning to glare at the angel in the passenger seat. "I told you not to--"

"My apologies." Cas frowns. "I thought that was directed at me."

"Well, it wasn't." Sam returns his attention to the road. The fields on either side are flat and colorless in the night. The Impala growls along, the only car on the highway. Somewhere up ahead in town, Dean is waiting, having saved the girl from a vengeful spirit while Sam salted and burned. What was supposed to be routine had turned, well, not.

Sam sighs. He feels the shape of Castiel's thoughts pressing in his brain. A low hum of concern overlaid by this man, this one, my charge, under my protection, must not, cannot, please Father, must not...

"Can you," Sam asks sharply, "I don't know, turn it down a little?"

Castiel lifts his head. Sam watches the bright blue of his eyes reflected in the windshield. "I am trying," the angel grates out.

Sam's not even sure what these thoughts point to; they're jumbled and shapeless, more of a feeling than an idea. He wonders if that is how Cas is receiving his thoughts too, or if his human mind is different. Maybe it crawls with black things, doubt and self-hatred and fear. Sam tries to think of something inconsequential and biege, but instead red memories leap to the front of his mind: Dean walking in on him masturbating when he was thirteen, the way he still thinks about how Jess looked naked, all the things he wants to keep hidden and private.

Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his seat. One look at his drawn, pale face and Sam knows he's heard. He grips the wheel and grits his teeth.

"There's no need to be ashamed," Castiel whispers more to the passenger window than to Sam.

"Oh really?" Sam snaps. "Thanks, Cas. That makes it all so much better."

This man, his beautiful thoughts, Sam, the boy with the demon blood, the boy who prays, please don't, Heavenly Father, don't let him hear--

"Hear what?" Sam tears his eyes from the road to stare at the angel, curled small in the black leather seat. "What are you hiding?" Sam's mind is in a whirl, and he hopes desperately that Cas isn't picking up on the thoughts he's had of the angel, the little dreams and fleeting images he holds onto in the dark when he lies in a lonely motel bed with nothing but his brother's snores for company. He prays Cas won't see himself there in Sam's mind, an angel splayed out before him, a pure being in a world that has none left, his arms strong enough to hold Sam, his naked skin warmer than any blood. And of course once he tries not to think about it, he can think of nothing else.

Sam jerks the wheel and brings the Impala to a rolling stop beside the road. He squeezes his eyes shut and cuts the engine. The engine ticks, the wind rustles through the wheat fields, and the rest is silence. The image in Sam's head will not go away, and he doesn't want to open his eyes and see Castiel's reaction. The guy is angelic, hasn't even kissed anyone yet, and fuck if Sam is going to see what he thinks of an abomination fantasizing about his mouth.

[rrrowr.livejournal.com]

What Sam doesn't realize about angels is that they like to mark their territory, but he can't say he minds all the hickeys.

[rrrowr.livejournal.com]

Castiel goes into heat. Cue: Sam getting protective and then jealous and then possessive, and then, you know, helpful.

The Scent of Temptation : part 1

[shirley007.livejournal.com]

For five days, they'd been on this case and Sam was growing wary of the lack of clues to point them in the right direction. He didn't even bother crossing the small distance from and to the motel, spending all his time at the tiny, brown table in the farthest corner of the library. It was pretty secluded and allowed his thoughts to wander from time to time without having to justify himself to Dean who was a permanent fixture at the computer by now.

Heaving another heavy sigh as he thumbed through the section about local ghost stories, knowing it definitely couldn't be a spirit, he nearly dropped his book in surprise when a disheveled Castiel appeared in front of him. Of course, the angel always looked like someone had been running his fingers all through that soft, dark hair, but this time there was something more and whatever it was, it went straight down to Sam's cock.

Twitching in his pants, he narrowed his eyes as he slowly allowed his gaze to travel from the bed hair to Castiel's flushed face, and Sam couldn't help but swallow thickly at the sheen of sweat above his brow, the ragged breathing and the way the angel's body pressed against a bookcase for support. Whatever was going on, it was serious, and intoxicating.

Licking his lips, Sam got up and moved closer to the angel, wanting to offer his help, even despite the raging hardness making its presence known. He didn't make it there though as his entire body froze and shuddered at the silent plea falling from the celestial being's lips, "Sam, please."

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Castiel is cursed to speak only in memes. This becomes a problem when he accidentally a Winchester.

[rrrowr.livejournal.com]

omg ldkashg

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Castiel returns with Sam's body and his soul, but Sam is convinced he belongs to hell. In order to proof he is not dammed, Cas takes Sam to a church to bless him/let a priest bless him.

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Sam keeps chickening out of telling Dean that he and Cas are an Item, so he begs Cas to do it. Castiel agrees on the condition that Sam has to break the news to Balthazar.

This is mine

[verucasalt123.livejournal.com]

I am writing it now.

Heeeeeeeeeehehehehehe.

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Sam kinda hates it when Castiel gets drunk. He's pushy, annoying, and hates everything and anything he encounters. The sex, however, is fantastic.

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Can I please have an alternative version of the "Don't ask stupid questions" scene from season five, with Cas on a bender? 8]

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

(last prompt, sorry)

Sam Wesson hates his goddamn stupid, entirely unrewarding IT job. Except for Thursdays, when he works the late shift, and the guy in marketing with the rough voice calls down for some reason or another. As the weeks progress, the reasons (excuses) get more and more flimsy, and Sam wonders if the guy's maybe just really bad at making normal conversation.

[hils.livejournal.com]

DO WANT!

[ladyeternal.livejournal.com]

S4 AU. Castiel finds out about the Winchesters being Michael & Lucifer's Vessels. The Host is watching his interactions with Dean too closely to warn his friend/beloved/ward of what's coming; they sense his partiality to the Righteous Man.

But they've entirely missed how drawn he is to Sam as well, because of the distance he's kept on their Orders, and if Sam were to know the truth before the last Seal is broken...