A,N: Okay, so I am going to appologise now for not uploading sooner. I have been stuck in hospital and they aren't letting me leave and I am only allowed to go online for half an hour a day - major fail! So - me being a ninja, and whatnot - I hand wrote this (all of it!) and handed it to my lovely friend, Call, who typed this all up, so thank you! I trust he has not made any mistakes etc, but I don't have the time to check it all! Right, I'm off before the Nurse comes back and tries to knock me out again.
Oh! And a word of warning; most of this was written whilst I was very high on pain medications, so I have no idea what I actually put. So, good luck. I'm going to check this out once I am out of this hell hole. Cheers Call, for doing this and bringing it in to me so I can post it! And cheers readers for sticking to this mental story. I'm-a gonna let you go now... Enjoy!


Sam chuckled as his target sat besides him, fluttering her long eyelashes at him and gazing at him with lust filled blue eyes. If she wasn't a job, Sam would've bought her a drink, maybe got talking to her, possibly take her back to his afterwards… Well, he was doing all that now, but he would do it without being watched over by a damned angel.

The Candy Man, as he liked to be called, was at the opposite end of the bar, drink in hand but eyes locked onto Sam – he could feel it. He had gotten rid of his ruined overcoat now, as Sam had told him to, and his suit had been washed, a chore the angel had seemed inspired by, watching the clothes roll around in the machine.

Sam pushed away the thought of the angel wearing just his boxers and one of Sam's shirts as it invaded his head and turned all of his attention back to the redhead.

"-so, we then got into the car, and here we are," she concluded in her gorgeous British accent, twirling a flaming lock between her fingers with a secret smile. "So what's your story, big boy?"

"Not much to tell," Sam smiled, swigging back the rest of his beer and taking her hand in his cool ones. "But I would love to hear more about you, Callie. Maybe I could have your number, or…"

"Or," she whispered, leaning in close so she could press her lips to his ear and give him a good view down the front of her dress and cleavage, "we could just go back to your place… and get to know each other a little better."

'Yes!'

"I'd love that," he agreed, grabbing his jacket and helping her from her seat and wrapping a protective arm around her as he led her out of the bar. They walked silently away and to the car the angel had leant him, acting the gentleman and opening the door and assisting her into the seat. From the infatuated look she gave him when he did it, he knew she was ready.

The angel couldn't fly anymore, that much he had admitted to Sam, without explaining the entire situation. Sam had guessed that he had lost a lot of his angel mojo from the fact that he had a cut on his back which had not healed – something which usually happened instantly with celestial beings. He seemed to be able to move swiftly, like he had seen many angels do before, but he hadn't pressed the subject, yet he kept his eyes open, watching the strange little things the Candy Man did. He had a terrible sweet tooth and always seemed to be cracking jokes; two things which Sam knew should be jumping out at him, screaming in his face the name of this being but his brain couldn't remember. Who the hell – or in his case, heaven – was he?

Sam drove slowly, taking the long route back to the angels home to give him the chance to take a taxi back himself and be prepared. The woman in the passenger seat, Callie, kept sneaking glances at him from beneath her lashes but she had not dare moved yet, simply sitting with her right leg slung over her left and her hands clasped on her lap. She had hair a range of colours from red to gold to white blonde that clung to the bottom of her shoulders in soft waves, clipped away from her face with a white sparkling flower. She wore a simple, low cut black dress that clung to her perfect curves, which had ridden up her legs as she sat on the low seats, showing a large amount of delicious looking thighs.

He swallowed down whatever thoughts were trying to take over his mind and focussed on the road. Ahead of them was the house, and pulling away from the driveway was a late night taxi. Perfect.

He pulled over and ran around to help her out, taking her arm and leading her to the house, letting her walk in first, straight into the devils trap. She continued walking for a second then stopped with a sudden backwards drag as she tried to cross the hidden circle. "What…"

"Yeah, I don't think you are walking out of that one," Sam frowned, letting the happy pretence fall. "What's your name?"

"Huh? What are you on about…?" A sharp look of disbelief crossed over her eyes as she fell to the floor, curling her knees beneath her. "You're a hunter?" At his silent nod a few tears rolled down her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "First week out of the pit and the first guy I like turns out to e a freaking hunter…"

"What's your name?" he repeated again, glaring at her downcast face.

"Callie. Callie Rosa… Are you going to kill me again? Send me back?"

"I mean you, demon. Not the meat-suit you're wearing."

"No… I'm Callie. The real Callie… I came back."

Sam was leaning against the closed front door, watching the woman cry as she sat on the rug hiding his handiwork. She looked up for a second and at seeing his expression she whimpered, covering her face with her eyes.

"I died," she explained, taking deep, shaky breaths as she did so. "And they sent me to hell. Trust me, it isn't flames and a guy with horns... trust me. It's really hell… I was tortured. They pulled the flesh from my bones and burned me daily for years… Three years, they did it for. Three years I held on… then I just stopped. They stopped. Next thing, I'm back and in my body again…"

"Why." It was not a question, she noticed. It was an order.

"They need us. Good souls in hell. They are stealing us and turning us into… this!" she growled, indicating her body. When she looked up again, her eyes had turned completely black. "Help me… Please."

"Okay… I'll help you." He stood fully and walked around the devils trap so she could not get to him, and entered the kitchen on the other side. Leaning against the sink counter, was the stupid angel. "What do you think?"

The Candy Man – damn, Sam hated that name! – gave his usual grin and gave Sam an appreciative once over with his eyes. "She isn't lying, Sammy-boy."

"So what are we supposed to do then? Just hog tie her and beam her up to Scotty?"

The angels grin widened and he let out a low chuckle. "Sorta. But first we need more information. Like why the hell they want good souls. And how they're getting them. Otherwise, it'll all be a little bit pointless, eh, Moosey?"

"Okay... how do I do that? I haven't got the knife, or the colt, or holy water or anything that the girl would be scared of. Hell, I don't even think she would know she should be scared of it, if she is so new!"

"Then appeal to her human side."

Sam nodded in agreement and walked back to the demon.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Don't! Dear God, don't!" Callie screamed, her nails digging deep into her palms as she watched the scene before her, clutching a tartan blanket to her chest and letting her tears soak into the soft fabric. "Do not hurt my sister!"

Sam just looked at her, waiting for her to take the hint that he already had. It only took a second before she screamed again, the sound vibrating off of the walls with her anguish.

"I am going to kill you, you stupid hunter!"

"Unlikely. I just need some more information, and I will let you go and promise to leave your family be. Can we come to that agreement?"

"Not unless you add your head on a plate!"

Sam stood from his position just outside of the devils trap on the floor and paced for a moment, giving her time to reconsider. Again, it did not take long before the demon whispered, "you promise to leave my family be?"

"I swear it on my parents' souls in heaven." The look he gave her shone with his honesty and she knew he could not go against it. "Now, all I want to know is why hell is collecting good souls. I want a reason and I want to know how. Then I will fulfil my part of our deal."

Callie took a breath and tightened her grip on the blanket, inhaling the familiar scent of her younger sister, Sara, giving herself the boost she needed to answer. "Hell hounds... They have hell hounds working with and attacking Reapers. They find the good souls and when they are going to send them to heaven, the hounds attack and another demon comes and steals the soul..."

"Like with Famine? The horseman?"

"I – I do not understand the reference... But all I know is that there is something out there which has even our... masters shaking in fear. And it is not another demon. It is something else...It is higher up and more powerful than any of us... That is all I know."

"Thank you. Now, tell me how they turned you. I would like to know this, if you do not mind. If we know, we can try and stop it from happening to others like you."

The girl shivered uncontrollably. She knew what would happen if she did, but the little part of her that was still human compelled her to. "My name is Calledonia Rosa. I was walking home from work one day, when I was attacked by the cloud of smoke... It forced itself inside of me and took control. It led me to the tallest building nearby and made me jump. Then it left me. Next thing I know, I'm in hell and in a horrendous amount of pain. There was this man who came every day; said I had a job to do, and offered me the blade. I refused. I did not want to hurt anybody the way he was hurting me, but after three years I was tired... I had to give up. I accepted. But instead of doing what he had implied, I find myself back up here. He came to me and told me I had to find people – special people, people like me. I had to take over them, like someone else had done to me and send them down to him. They had to be truly good people, not sinners or blasphemers or cruel. And trust me, in today's world, that is a lot harder to do than you would think, you know.

"I have only been here a few days, but I have not found anyone who met up to his standards yet... and then I met you. I thought that you would be my first collection, but then you started to be nice to me. As in, really nice. No one has ever been that nice to me. Even when I was alive... I was the geek, the goody-two-shoes. I sat in the corner and got called names my entire life. So when you began to talk to me, I knew I couldn't do it. I cannot do this job... I know they are going to kill me when they find out what I've told you. So I do not expect or ask you to keep that first part of your promise – I do not wish to be set free. I would certainly be dead then... Perhaps I could assist you in some way?"

"You already have, Callie," Sam smiled, showing her the only way he knew how that he was proud of this demon, in what small way a hunter could be allowed to be. "But... if that is what you wish, I could have you talk to a friend of mine, help him. But you must promise not to freak out. Okay?"

She nodded and Sam turned to watch the kitchen door as it opened and the angel walked in, his eyes glaring at Sam as he moved to stand opposite the demon before him. "Thank you, Miss Rosa. You have been of great assistance to heaven."

Calledonia shrieked as she saw him, clearly seeing beneath the vessel which Sam saw, obviously terrified of the sight.

"He will not hurt you, Callie," Sam promised, bending down so he was at eye level with her. "He's with me."

"He-"

"-listens to me," Sam told her, extending his hand inside of the devils trap to her, trusting her implicitly. She took his hand and the Candy Man kicked the rug to the side and scratched at the markings on the floor and destroying the hold the sigil had on the demon.

Sam pulled her out of the circle and gave her another small smile as she turned to face the angel. "So what are you?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper as she gave him a small curtsy in respect and kept her face lowered to the ground.

"I am an angel. And I intend to keep you safe from demons, Miss Rosa. Is that alright with you?"

She nodded and watched as he held his hand out to her before accepting it. The angel pulled her away from Sam and towards his own body and began chanting in enochian. With a flash of white light, both the angel and the demon had vanished from where they had once stood.

Sam just sighed and kicked the rug back into place. He spent the night pacing and cursing beneath his breath. He went over the previous days' events; trying to piece together all of the clues had been given to work out the identity of the angel but again fell short. He could not think past who he was now, not who he had been. It was frustrating!

He thought of the incident not to long after their moment in the garden and chuckled to himself. The angel had not seen why he should dispense of the tattered overcoat he had been wearing, which was so ruined it was barely hanging on by its threads. Sam had swiftly thrown it into the bin and told him his clothes needed washing, another concept the angel was befuddled by.

Sam had had to give him the shirt from his back as he washed the angels' suit and shirt. The Candy Man had knelt before the machine in his boxer shorts and Sam's shirt with childish curiosity as Sam had leant against the counter, his arms folded over his bare chest and observing the angel.

Somehow, he felt that he would never work out the angels' identity without him telling him. It was so stupid to think that he could outwit monsters and demons and find things from halfway across the earth within minutes with his laptop and Bobby's book collection, yet he could not figure out one angel's name.

Sam fell asleep in the angel's room, curled up in the dark red blanket, trying to forget what had happened that day. Tried to forget the angel. Tried to forget the letter and the dust and why the hell his hip and ass still hurt like hell. He tried... but he did not succeed.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam was awoken by the feel of something brushing his hair away from his face. Groaning and pushing the hand away, he grumbled "Dean, the girls in the other bed," smiling slightly as he thought of his brothers shock.

"Wrong guy, Sammy-boy - again."

Sam's eyes shot open and he jumped into sitting position as he assessed the man beside him. The angel was back. "Y- You're back."

"And you are in my bed! Shove over," he grinned, pushing Sam across and sliding onto the bed next to him, lying back so their faces were side by side. "Mornin' boy-o."

"Good morning... So what happened last night?"

The man did not look happy at this question but he proceeded to answer "I took the girl upstairs. Well, I summoned assistance and they 'beamed us up to Scotty,'" he grinned as he finished Sam's quote. "They have her in a holding room, keeping her safe. I told them everything we know and I got some things in return."

"Like what? Elaborate, for me."

"Before, I could not do much. This... being, I suppose, is fairly new and unused to all things like this," he replied, gesturing with a small hand his body. "But they gave me back some of my abilities." He was going to leave it there but he caught sight of the bitch face Sam was about to pull and continued. "Before, all I could do is move small objects – as in really small, lollypop small, in fact – minor compulsion, and the usual lie detector gimmick we are all landed with. Now - from what they informed me - I can transport larger objects and project my voice out as well as all my previous doo-lolly's. It means we have a better chance of succeeding this mission."

'So we are going to complete a mission... with voice projection?'

"So, Moosey... remember me yet?"

"No. Give me a clue and maybe then I will."

"Nah... I will take my chances," he smirked, pushing Sam in the chest playfully. "I raised you; I can have some fun, too."

"Alright, Chuckles. So... what happens today?"

The angel looked away from his eyes and down, eyes widening when he finally noticed Sam was lying shirtless in his bed. His mind was clearly running into overdrive and Sam could practically hear his mind scream 'is he wearing anything under those covers?'

"Hey, Angel - focus!"

His eyes snapped back upwards, his tongue escaping from his mouth to try and moisten his suddenly dry lips, a movement the man beside him noticed instantly. Sam couldn't help it when his cheeks flushed pink and his pupils dilated, alerting the angel of what was happening.

"Sammy… are you in my bed, naked?"

"No, Chuckle-head, I'm not," he replied, pulling his last ounce of strength to rein in the sudden warmth that flooded his body and giving the angel his best bitch-face. "So what happens today?"

"First off," the angel replied, letting his gaze rest on Sam's pentagram tattoo, watching it move whilst his chest rose and fell, "and trust me when I say that I am really sorry for this, you need to put some clothes on."

Sam nodded and sat up, leaning over the bed to grab his shirt. The angels eyes instantly fell to where the sheets had rode down as Sam bent over, revealing his boxer shorts and his perfect arse. Sam heard the groan that fell from the angels lips but did not bother acknowledging it. Pulling it on, he jumped up and found his jeans on the floor at the foot of the bed, pulling them on quickly.

"Now what?" Sam asked sarcastically, turning back to the angel. The trademark smirk which he had become accustomed to had vanished, leaving in its wake a face that was devoid of any emotion, any sign of life. But the angel met his gaze and sighed silently, before answering.

"We go after the reaper. I think I've got some information on the man we think is linked to this, but let's not get our hopes up, okay? The man I got this information off is not the best person on earth, or in the state, for that matter. I do not hold it on high authority to trust him… but it is all we have, at the moment."

Sam gave him a small smile and made a move to leave. He took his time walking down the steps and into the kitchen to begin on breakfast, ignoring the angels' slow, light footsteps behind him.

"Sammy, don't," the Candy Man stopped him, tugging on his arm and pulling him to a halt. "You go look over the papers in the dining room – I'll cook you some breakfast. My treat." Sam looked him over before obeying the silent order, taking in the sombre expression and nearly guilty eyes.

"What are you hiding?" he couldn't help but ask when he was a few feet away from him. "What is so bad that you think you cannot tell me your name?"

The angel did not look at him for a few seconds, but shot out a hand to the wall to steady himself. When he had composed himself, and felt prepared he turned to face the youngest Winchester with sad, guilt ridden brown eyes. "Because, Sammy, I was not – am not – a very nice person. When we knew each other, you hated me. I betrayed you… I hurt you and your brother – mainly your brother – and destroyed whatever faith you still held for angels. Then, in a stupid, stupid attempt to redeem myself and save your Winchester asses, I put myself in the line of fire… got myself shanked withan archangel's blade… and you still never forgave me. I got sent up, my father brought me back but I was so broken that nobody thought I could survive… Then, I got my orders. Zachariah told me of all the crap you boys were doing, what he was going to do to you both. What the angels were going to do with the world," he growled, his upper lip snaring upwards and baring his teeth in anger. "And I couldn't do a single thing to stop those…"

"Don't worry about it, Candy Man. You tried. That's a hell of a lot more than most of those feathery dicks can say." Sam gave him a smile and reached forward, without consciously realising what he was doing, to brush a wayward strand of the mans hair away from his eyes. "I think that it is who you are now, Angel, which counts. You seem like a nice guy. Don't go panicking about stuff you cannot change – namely the past."

"Actually, Winchester, us from upstairs can change past events, you know," he teased, finally letting out a small smirk, but not big enough to make Sam feel any better.

"Trust me, I know. Way too much has happened with angels for me to think of you guys as incapable."

Now the angel grinned, his eyes sparkling with his amusement. "Thanks, Sammy. Go research, I'll cook."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam had it all worked out. The reaper was going to have to be summoned, and tonight was the last night they could do it, according to the lunar position, or something like that. He had the blood, he had the sigils… What he didn't have, was the angel – again.

'Junkless, angel.' Sam thought to himself, shuffling on his feet as he stood in the abandoned warehouse, waiting for midnight to near. It was freezing in there, and his jacket simply wasn't enough to stop the shudders. 'Why the hell did I agree to this?'

'Because of my charming good looks, and probably my gorgeous ass, too,' a voice chimed inside his head, startling him for a moment before he recognised it as his partner in this missions voice. 'Sam-o, you need to relax. I am here, just out of the way. There is holy oil down there, and I know what you Winchesters are like for throwing that stuff around – oh, yeah, I never meant to say congratulations on the worlds first holy fire Molotov! If it wasn't my brother you destroyed, I would be very proud.'

'Is this what you meant by voice projection? Talking inside my mind?'

'That and I can do it outside of your head, so everyone else can hear it without me being there. I can also change my voice to sound like anyone I wanna be, as well.' If the angel could have chuckled when doing his 'voice projection' thing, Sam realised, then he surely would have now. 'Any preferences?'

'Yeah, you. Now let me finish this damn thing so I can go get some sleep, okay?' He assumed the answer was yes as he received no reply.

Sam worked quickly, drawing out the sigils and setting up everything that would be required. It did not take long, and quite soon after, he was stood before a man dressed in a suit.

'Seriously? A suit? Who are they trying to impress?'

"Hello there, Samuel Winchester," the man nodded, his face emotionless and impossibly pale. His eyes were nearly white they were such a pale blue and his long dark hair was swooped back into a neat ponytail. "Why on Earth did you summon me, I wonder?"

"I need some, err, information. I need you to tell me what is going on with the souls."

The man nodded again, a slight tug at his lips as he replied sullenly, "ah, that is why. I do not know much, young hunter, but I will say that I am all yours for whatever you need. Now that our daddy dearest has gone missing, there are a lot of urgent issues I need to be dealing with right now, so helping you will not matter at all."

"Death has gone missing?"

"Taken, we presume. But without him to tell us who to reap, a lot of my brothers have gone rogue. A thousand or so years of seeing the evil in the world and not able to do anything can do that to you. That is why all the bad souls are being taken before their time."

"Not bad souls; the good souls. A reaper is helping something evil take good souls and taking them to hell. What do you know of this?"

"There would be no such thing. Reapers and Death itself are neutral. Admittedly, a few think of themselves, now, as mavericks, but none of my siblings would work with hell-" he stopped as if caught on his words. "They just wouldn't, alright? Can I go now? People to kill, time of the essence, etcetera, etcetera."

'It's him, Sammy. We have our guy. I can smell them on him.'

"So none of your siblings would," Sam accused him, "but you being the little bitch fell for it. You are the one with hell hounds. All I want to know is why."

"What on Earth are you-?"

A shock wave went through the building, shaking its structure to the bolts as a scream erupted from somewhere unseen. Angel!

"Okay," the reaper agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners whilst he shuddered off the fear. "It is me. But what do you want? An explanation? You will not get one. And you will not get anything else, either. The person whom I work for is greater than anything you have ever seen before, Samuel. I should warn you against looking for her. The moment you are within smelling distance of her, she will kill you. And not even then will your angel friend be able to save you."

'I'm coming in, Sammy. I'm taking him up top.'

The angel walked in then, his dark hair caught up on one side like he had been pressed against something for a while. 'Hiding?' He came up to the reaper and gave him a rather large grin. "Hey there, Jonathan."

The reapers eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he saw the man. He took a half step back then, trying to compose himself, straightened his tie as he looked down at his feet. "You are dead! I reaped you myself!"

"Yeah, not quite. I guess my Daddy is bigger than your Daddy," he taunted, scoring off a point on an invisible chalkboard. "C'mon, big shot. We need to have a little chat." He took a step forward and stopped, tilting his head to the side in a curious listening way just like Cas did – was it an angel thing that made them look like puppies? "A moment," he dismissed the reaper, turning and gripping Sams forearm and pulling him away.

Once they were an acceptable distance away, but still with sight of the reaper, the angel stopped and tilted his head so he could look Sam in the eyes. "I have some news," he began, his eyes void of emotion. "Valoel is dead."

Sam couldn't think of anything to answer that with. He supposed he could say "I am sorry for your loss", but he had lost count of the amount of times people had said that to him. He knew it meant nothing. The sentiment was true, sometimes, but the words did nothing to comfort, so instead he took a chance and hugged the shorter man in front of him, letting him know he was sorry in the only way he knew how.

The angel returned the embrace for a moment before releasing him and putting a foot or so between them. "She did what she planned on doing… and Zadkiel says that my body is ready. He has been working on fixing it since the incident with L-… Well, my body is ready. When I take Jonathan up, I'm upgrading."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sam asked, unsure of why the shorter man did not looked at least a little pleased about it, even though his sister and best friend had just passed on.

"Yeah, it is… I just – I mean, I don't know what is gonna happen when I come back. You're gonna know who I am and what I have done and you will hate me again-"

"Okay, I get it. Listen, Angel, we went through all this at breakfast, remember? I like you, and whatever the hell happened before does not matter to me anymore. Okay? Now you do that, get your body back and then we will see if we can find this bitch before something else happens."

The angel just grinned up at him, as Sam moved another strand of hair away from his face, something he had done on several occasions that day and leaned into the touch. "I hope you remember that later, Sam." He turned and walked back to the reaper before the man could reply, stepping into his personal space and gripping his arm as he began chanting and subsequently disappeared.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam was stretching as he walked into the Candy Mans house. His muscles ached from his long day and he was beyond tired by this point. He felt filthy, his hair hanging limply by his eyes, so he decided on taking a much needed shower.

The bathroom was large and overly decorated, each wall a mirror outlined with sparkling gemstones and the floor was scattered with a thousand different shades of coloured shards of glass covered in clear resin. The tub was shining white and the shower cubicle was shielded by frosted glass.

Sam locked the door and began to remove his clothes. As he bent to remove his shoes, a shock of pain went through him again from his hip, causing him to lose his breath. He leant against the wall for a moment taking in ragged breaths, giving himself a moment before he continued. He peeled off the remainder of his clothes and was about to step into the shower when he saw it.

The sight made him run cold. When he had first felt it, he thought he had simply pulled something whilst sleeping on that crappy sofa, or one of the many times he had been thrown on his ass in his hunts. But just as his leg was raised to walk into the cubicle, his eyes strayed to the mirror and saw the welt that was raised on his hip; a welt in the perfect shape of a handprint.

Again, all breath left him as he walked closer to the wall to examine it, taking it in as he turned to get a better view of it. The palm of it – the most raised part - was on his side, directly lined up to his crotch and the fingers curled around to his ass, scaring him completely.

Bile rose in his throat as he recognised it; his brother, Dean, had a similar mark on his shoulder from where Castiel had pulled him out of hell. Hell.

Parts of his conversations with the angel rang through his mind, making him feeling queasy with each remembered word. "You died. It had to happen, so your soul could come to heaven, as proof to the big guys that you had agreed. But… it doesn't matter." "I raised you; I can have some fun, too."

Sam had gone to hell. Not heaven. Hell. And the angel had had to bring him back.

'Okay,' he thought to himself, taking a deep breath and stepping into the shower to wash away the past days grime. 'I will talk to him when he comes back. He will explain it all.'

The shower ran for longer than he usually took, he was taking his time and letting all of his troubles run down the drain along with the water. The fact that it didn't run out of hot water after five minutes, as well, held a big part in it, too.

When he was done, he slung a towel around his hips and walked through to the angels room, looking for some clothes that were not tiny, and found only a pair of boxers in his size and a shirt which looked remarkably familiar. He pulled them on and put on his own jeans, leaving his shoes and socks in the corner of the bedroom.

He spent the rest of the night lying on the previously mentioned crappy sofa, flipping through an old book that he had found holding a table straight. The title had him smiling 'Our Father, who art no longer in Heaven,' so he began to read it. It turned out to be better than he had expected and he was four chapters in when the doors burst open and a violent wind slammed the cover shut.

Jumping up, he pulled the silver knife from the kitchen which he had kept by his side since he had gotten there, and aimed it at the door, waiting for whatever the hell had done it to appear. It soon clattered to the floor when a very smug, grinning angel came around the corner and jumped in front of him, his shaggy blonde hair pushed back and his amber eyes locked onto Sams brown ones.

Sams mouth dropped open as the voice he had never thought he would hear again spoke. "Heyya, Sammy-boy," the arch-angel grinned.

Gabriel…