Title: Wings of Yellow and White
Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Spoilers/warnings: Takes place post 5.22. AU.
Summary: Sam listens and watches his brother, delighting in the sound of his voice and the play of expression across his face, and the unique feel of his soul in proximity to Sam's own.
Author notes: Third in the 'Son of the Morning' sequence. Sequel to Morning Star.
Wings of Yellow and White
The beer is nice, Sam thinks, despite the fact that the taste and sensation of it is muted, as though someone else is drinking it and Sam is merely getting the experience second-hand. Sitting next to Dean is better.
Dean is telling him stories about the Earth-year Sam spent in Hell and Dean spent at Lisa's, his mind running through so many thoughts and his soul pulsing with happiness and gratefulness. Sam, Sam, Sam, he might as well be saying.
Sam listens and watches his brother, delighting in the sound of his voice and the play of expression across his face, and the unique feel of his soul in proximity to Sam's own.
Dean's presence makes Sam feel warm and his Grace hum with contentment and joy, strong enough that Sam can't quite stop himself from broadcasting the feeling to everything around him.
The effect is subtle, but potent all the same; hell, Dean should have tried to kill or incapacitate him half a dozen times by now, because trusting is not exactly a familiar part of Dean's vocabulary. Instead they're sitting here drinking beer and chatting, Dean 100% convinced that Sam is really his brother with barely any effort on Sam's part.
Sam should probably feel at least a little guilty about this, but it's not as though anyone else is going to be doing this to Dean and honestly it makes things that much easier.
Besides, all he's doing is making Dean more inclined to accept and trust him. It's not like it's mind control, or anything.
"So," Dean says, during a lull in the conversation, after they've been sitting in companionable silence for a while, "you said someone pulled you out. Any idea who?"
Sam raised his eyebrows, even as he watches his brother keenly.
In all of Dean's stories, there's one name he hasn't mentioned even once, which is unlike him. Sam doesn't like what it implies.
"Honestly? I think it might have been Cas."
Because Sam is watching him, both physically and otherwise, he sees how the name hits Dean like a punch in the chest.
"It felt like him, anyway," Sam continues calmly, "although a lot more powerful than I remember. Like, archangel-level."
In reality Sam knows with utter certainty that it was Castiel, and at the first brush of his Grace Sam had immediately identified Castiel as an archangel. An archangel's Grace is unmistakeable. It had taken all Sam's efforts to mask his own newly-acquired Grace so that Castiel wouldn't sense it.
But Sam doesn't want to freak Dean out too much with this stuff, so for the moment, he's acting as human as he can.
He likes to think he's doing a good job so far.
Dean is trying to control his expression, but he still looks like a house has fallen on him. Sam begins to feel a slow burn of anger, because he had trusted Castiel to look after his brother while Sam was in the Cage, but it looks as though the moment he got his promotion the angel dumped Dean and took off.
If it's true…
Well. Sam's suspects he's inherited Lucifer's temper, and his own was never exactly easy-going to begin with.
"How is Cas, anyway?" Sam asks, keeping his tone of voice unsuspecting and innocent.
Dean shoots him a suspicious look with narrowed eyes, and looks away.
"You tell me, Sam. I haven't seen him since he told me he was going to be the new sheriff of Heaven right after Detroit."
Sam closes his eyes as he feels the change sweep over him, burning and focused and cold.
"Dean," he says evenly, "do you still have Cas programmed into your phone?"
Dean snorts.
"Yeah, for all the good that does. The bastard's ignoring his voicemail."
Castiel has been deliberately ignoring Dean's attempts to contact him. The knowledge just fans the flame of fury rising in Sam's Grace.
He does his best to keep projecting peace and serenity in spite of his own emotions.
"Can you go and grab it for me, please?"
Sam can feel Dean looking at him, but after a moment Dean gets up and goes into the house. He comes back a few minutes later, with the phone, and Sam opens his eyes and takes it.
He rings Castiel's number, and waits for the voicemail to pick up.
"Hello Castiel," Sam says, his voice mellifluous and smooth. "It's Sam. I hear you've been ignoring my brother. You know, I expected better of you. I figured that even if Dean was tearing himself apart because I was gone, at least you'd be there to offer him support. It disappoints me to discover I was wrong. How are things in Heaven? It must be chaotic up there. Still, that's convenient for me, isn't it?" Sam feels his lips curve into a cold smile. "Later, Cas."
Dean is staring at Sam like he has three heads. Sam closes his eyes again.
"Dude –" Dean begins.
"He abandoned you, Dean," Sam says, his voice low and fierce and still sounding just like Lucifer. "I can't forgive that."
There's a short silence.
"You really meant it when you said you're kind of Lucifer, huh?" Dean's voice is wary and difficult to read.
Sam shrugs.
"Yeah."
Before either can say any more there's a rush of madly-beating wings and Sam feels Castiel's presence suddenly pressing on the world.
He opens his eyes, feeling the light burning from them, and sees Castiel standing staring in absolute wide-eyed horror.
Sam smiles.
"Hi, Cas. Congratulations on the promotion."
Sam radiates a little more harmony and light, in direct contrast with the rage flooding his soul. It's not that difficult. Lucifer might have lost the role of Lightbringer when he rejected Heaven, but Sam himself is an angel who has never fallen, and his gifted Grace reflects that.
"Dean," Castiel says urgently, "you need to get away from him."
"Why, Cas?" Dean retorts. "Because Lucifer gave him his Grace? Yeah, I got the memo."
Sam tries not to grin. Dean is on his side. Castiel should know by now that if there's one thing Dean can't forgive it's abandoning family, and as far as Sam and Dean were concerned Castiel had been exactly that.
Which means, of course, that it must have been like daggers in Dean's heart when Castiel left, which Sam doesn't appreciate, but he'll deal with Castiel accordingly later on.
"Really, Cas," Sam chides. "That's not exactly welcoming." He stands, unfolding to his body's full height, unfolding further as his wings stretch out and up and wide to encompass half the horizon.
Castiel's eyes are wide, pupils blown, and Sam can see his mind working furiously even as the blue eyes are riveted to Sam's yellow-banded wings, huge and white. They're nothing like Lucifer's burnt orange and umber.
"You're not… you're Sam," Castiel says hesitantly. "How…"
Sam shrugs, graceful and fluid, his wings fluttering with the movement. Castiel's own wings are steel and silver, Sam is interested to see. He's always wondered.
"Lucifer was dying," he tells Castiel easily enough. "Between the choice of total death, or elevating his Vessel to his former place, it wasn't hard to decide."
"I don't understand," Castiel frowns. "How is that possible?"
Sam throws his head back and laughs.
"Oh, Cas," he says, his voice low and amused, "even as an archangel, they're still keeping secrets from you."
Castiel stiffens almost imperceptibly, his wings flaring. Sam's happy enough to explain, however.
"There's Vessels, and then there's Vessels. No human on earth could possibly contain and channel an archangel's Grace for long. I'm guessing that when…"
Sam's voice trails off for a second, as he ponders what name to use. Huh. He hadn't previously considered the issue.
"… when Granddad brought you back, he fiddled around with your new Vessel's bloodline a bit. Because your standard archangelic Vessel? They're never just human, Cas. They're the very distant offspring of archangels themselves, because nothing else can take that kind of power."
"What?" Dean's exclamation is short and sharp. "The fuck, Sammy? You're saying…"
"You're descended from Michael and Lucifer," Sam grins. "Congratulations, Dean. Your ancestors were assholes."
"The Nephilim," Castiel says, sounding shaken.
"Exactly," Sam confirms. He throws in a bit of scripture for the hell of it. "'When the sons of God came into the daughters of men and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.' The children of angels, stronger and more powerful than ordinary humans."
"But the Nephilim were destroyed," Castiel argues, even though he's already worked out the answer, Sam can tell.
"Except for the archangel's kids," Sam agrees.
"That's messed-up," Dean says bluntly.
He feels distressed, and Sam automatically reaches out with tranquillity and comfort.
"Stop that," Castiel says, his eyes sharpening.
"Stop what?" Dean asks, as Sam turns to frown at the other angel.
"He is manipulating your emotions," Castiel tells Dean.
"Not exactly manipulating," Sam protests. "Just… easing them a little."
"You're what?" Dean snaps.
"Dude, I don't like it when you're upset, okay?" Sam defends himself. "Besides, it's not exactly like I can help it. I'm a walking harmony-broadcasting machine and you're all tuned to receive."
"Don't mislead him, Sam," Castiel says, eyes glaring. "You were affecting Dean deliberately."
Sam makes a face, and wishes he could just smite the other angel. First he abandons Dean, now he's making trouble over this…
Geez, all Sam wants is to make Dean feel better, what's so wrong about that?
"Sam?" Dean's eyes have narrowed, and Sam can hear him putting it together, the fact that he wasn't nearly as suspicious and belligerent as he should have been when Sam first showed up, how relaxed he's been feeling…
"I was just lightening your mood, I wasn't changing your feelings or anything, I swear," Sam says quickly, giving Dean hurt eyes and a crumpled, hurt face. "I mean, think about it. You were feeling upset about the Vessel thing, and then you didn't feel quite as upset, but I didn't stop you feeling upset, did I?"
"Dude," Dean says, trying to speak evenly, "that is seriously not okay. You can't just…"
Sam raises his eyebrows.
"I can't what, Dean? Make you feel better?"
"You know exactly what!" Dean snaps. "Don't act like it's no big deal, Sam!"
Sam sighs theatrically. He thinks it's completely stupid, but right now the last thing he wants is to risk alienating his brother.
"Fine, I won't deliberately soothe your emotions." Why can't his brother be reasonable about these things? "But I can't help the whole 'beacon of peace and love' thing. That you're just going to have to put up with."
"Fine."
Sam and Dean stare at each other.
Dean is looking guarded and a little afraid now, which is so not what Sam wanted. He shoots Castiel a darkly irritated look.
"Anyway," Sam says, "I guess I should leave you two to talk. I have some things to sort out, anyway."
Dean's expression flashes into alarm.
"Sam, don't –"
Sam leaves before Dean can try to stop him.
He can catch up with Castiel later, privately, when Dean isn't there to witness their discussion. Sam is seriously unhappy about the fact that Castiel hasn't been near his brother for a year. What the hell was he thinking?
Right now, though, Sam has things to do.
First stop, Hell.