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The familiarity of the routine they've begun to settle into carries with it a terrifying domesticity.
Sam will go out for a case with Dean, Cas will go out for a case with Jack, Dean will go out for a case with Cas, Sam and Cas will take Jack out on a case together. They tend to cycle out who goes where, just so they can give each other increasingly rare opportunities to rest. Sam finally starts to feel like he can breathe a little easier when they fall into a rhythm; they have their own things to occupy their time in between cases, but it doesn't last long enough for anyone to truly become restless. He has plenty of work to do with cataloging and archiving the files and heavy dusted tomes in the Bunker's library anyway, so it works out just fine for him.
And none of that is particularly terrifying on its own. The things that have begun to scare Sam are the little things. The more subtle ones.
Sam will come back from a hunt, and he'll be tired and achy and sometimes covered in some kind of grime and sweat, and he'll make a beeline for his room to take a shower and leave the hamper out so he remembers to do his laundry. When he walks into his room, Cas is usually already laying in bed, wearing the lounging clothes that Sam insisted on buying for him and either reading a book or looking for something to watch on Netflix. He looks comfortable. At ease. Soft, even.
Cas will look up when Sam enters, and he'll offer a fond smile that Sam tentatively returns.
"Hello, Sam," he'll say, and sometimes he'll stand and offer to help Sam with his duffel and other supplies he'd taken with him, but most times he goes right back to whatever it was he was doing and lets Sam stumble into the shower.
Cas has the grace at least to avert his gaze when Sam comes out in his boxers and sifts through the dresser for something comfortable to wear, and he'll scoot over to give Sam enough room to flop down on the bed next to him with a weary sigh.
"How did the hunt go?" Cas will ask, and Sam will spend a few moments briefly talking about his outing, how it went and whether it went successfully or not. And then he'll ask Cas how his day went, and Cas will chat easily about going on a walk with Jack or picking some honey and fruits at a farmer's market nearby that he thought Sam might like. They talk about their days, and sometimes when Sam grabs the remote and puts on a nature documentary Cas will scoot closer so their thighs are touching, just the slightest bit.
Needless to say, this is what scares him.
It's not like he doesn't love Cas. Sam loves him a lot, actually, and thinks of him as his best friend after Dean. The problem lies in this love; Cas is his best friend, yes, but there's an ache for more that eats away at Sam's chest, has him tossing and turning at night when Cas either moves out to the library or sits at Sam's desk so he can continue reading while Sam sleeps. He thinks about tucking Cas's hair behind his ear, longer now in this new body than it was when Jimmy Novak housed him as a vessel. He thinks about once blue eyes, eyes that are an earthy brown now, gazing up at him with warmth and affection, and he's fucking scared. Always scared, always wanting, always aching. Doomed from the start, Dean had said once. Doomed, doomed, doomed.
But this ache isn't for nothing. This ache will sit in his chest, and he'll soak up those moments where Cas will grasp Sam's hand in his own, where Cas will hug him and his hair tickles under Sam's nose, and maybe this ache will be worth it someday. Just maybe.