So Not An Angel!

Chapter Three Rutting Stags

Raguel moved swiftly across the short distance from the SUV in response to Sam's cry of distress; as Dean's long legs folded beneath him and he toppled forward, whilst Sam grabbed wildly at the back of his shirt trying to break his fall. The powerfully built angel caught the older hunter effortlessly in his strong arms; preventing his total collapse and letting Dean's head roll softly against his shoulder, as Sam leapt to his brother's side.

"Dean!"

Soft green eyes fluttered open as Sam gently steadied his brother's drooping head; but there was no focus to the older man's gaze, and a whispered moan was his only answer.

Raphael beckoned to Jo; keen to get to the stricken man, but unwilling to abandon Uri. She hastened to the tall angel's side and Uriel transferred his weight from Raphe's arm to Jo's, leaving the healer free to go to Dean's side.

"Let's get him back inside, Sam"

Raguel spoke quickly glancing at his brother for confirmation, and Raphe nodded. Between them Sam and Raguel carefully lifted the injured man; Sam cringing as Dean gasped repeatedly in pain, and carried him back into the familiar motel room laying him on the bed he had so recently vacated.

Michael followed his brother's into the room, sorrowful in the awareness that his countenance was, at least in some part, responsible for Dean's acute distress.

wWw

Raguel stood back from the side of the bed and made way for Raphe; Sam hovering anxiously at the other side, as Raphael began his gentle examination.

Jo settled Uriel on one of the chairs by the table taking the seat opposite him her deep brown eyes focussed on the figure in the bed, her concern apparent.

Uriel reached forward; his hand gently wrapping around the tiny hunter's cold fingers, as she glanced into his pale eyes. He held her hand purposefully and she made no effort to withdraw it.

"So, Sam, it would seem that Dean's been struggling since we left you?"

Raphe glanced at the younger hunter as his practised hands hovered over Dean's various wounds.

"He's been in a lot of pain, Raphe..."

Sam paused; conscious of all the people in the small room and of how pissed Dean would be at becoming the unconscious centre of attention.

Raphe noted Sam's discomfort; and knowing a little about the Winchester's life and specifically Dean's character, understood Sam's reluctance to disclose too much.

He lowered his voice, discretely limiting his next question primarily to Sam's ears.

"I can help with his pain, to a degree anyway, in the time we have to spend here."

Perceptive grey eyes held Sam's gaze, compassion overtly evident in the angel's thin face and Sam relaxed a little knowing that Raphe would ease Dean's suffering.

"But there's something else?"

Raphael saw the worry and fear in the young hunter's tiredness and pallor; and he easily diagnosed the cause.

"Nightmares?"

Sam nodded biting his lip the memory of Dean's abject terror robbing him of his voice to answer.

wWw

Raphael's gentle hands reached Dean's shoulder as they spoke; and the older hunter stirred as the angel's long fingers hovered over his shattered joint, threatening to tease already over stimulated neurones with renewed sound bites of pain.

Dean's consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly swimming up through suffocating layers of confusion and fear. His head felt scrambled; full of sensations he didn't recognise, and most certainly didn't want.

It was disorientating, and the older hunter felt his recent, too frequently present sense of panic return with a vengeance.

He could 'feel' the presence of the angels in the cloyingly small room, feel waves of power emanate from their collective presence, but was also bemused to find that he could begin to distinguish between them sensing where each of them was in the room, even with his eyes resolutely closed.

He knew without doubt, for example, that Raphe was close to him; but he was not disturbed by that as the angel's cool and tranquil energy felt soothing to Dean's fevered mind and broken body.

Dean worked on opening his eyes; needing to rely on his regular senses, rather than acknowledging in any way the newer sensations, shuddering through his bruised and battered psyche.

Lifting the hundred pound weight of each eyelid was an immense challenge, but he persevered, only to have the world spin nauseatingly before him as he achieved his aim. And so Dean reached out for the only true stability he knew.

"S...Sam?"

Sam put his hand on his brother's arm; feeling the tremble there, and knowing that Dean was fighting desperately to hide that perceived weakness from him.

"Right here, Bro"

"Wanna...sit up"

Sam cast his worried gaze quickly to Raphe; to see the angel nod as he helped Sam gently raise Dean and lean him back against the pillows.

Dean squirmed under the collective gaze of the 6 other occupants of the small room; his wide fearful eyes locked onto his brother's, silently seeking solace and protection in their hazel depths.

His reluctance to make eye contact with the others tangible and Sam tightened his grip on his brother's arm, desperate to ease his unvoiced terror.

"What is it, Dean?"

Sam's words were soft as he attempted to stay calm but Dean's distress was oozing into him and he could feel his heart racing almost as quickly as his brother's.

Raphael watched the exchange between the hunter brothers before him; and suspected he knew the cause.

Reluctantly, he looked towards Michael; and saw matched understanding on the face of the elder angel, as he rose and walked nearer to the bed and its trembling occupant.

666

Sam saw Michael rise from the table and walk the few steps towards the bed out of the corner of his eye; but had he not been able to see, he would still have been able to measure the event in the effect it had on his brother.

Dean's body tensed as adrenaline coursed through him; contracting obviously sore, reluctant muscles, and painfully jarring barely healed wounds.

The older man recognised and loathed the manifestation of panic in himself but he could not control it; and he was helpless as his breathing rate increased and sweat stuck his T-shirt to his back, his brain shrieking at him to 'fight or flee' but his body was unwilling to comply.

He longed to close his eyes; to simply shut out the terror that made his breath hike noisily in his chest, but he couldn't and so reluctantly shifted his gaze to settle fearfully on the angel at the foot of the bed.

Sam watched his brother's eyes widen as they fell on Michael's face, colour leaching from them, until pale jade was virtually lost to shining white.

He saw Dean engage all his defensive shields; desperate to hide his vulnerability and panic from the others in the room, especially Michael, and to deny it even to himself.

Dean's struggle tore at Sam's heart and he ached for a way to help but was impotent in his powerlessness to comfort.

Dean gazed upon the face of the Prince of Angels. He took in the strong aquiline nose; intelligent, intuitive eyes and strong jaw, and every fibre of his being recoiled in horror, as the divine being before him metamorphosed into the daemon that had brutalised him to the point of death.

He unconsciously pressed back against the pillows; seeking the reassurance of physical distance from the being who was the manifestation of the daemon, his hands bunching into bed sheets that were patterned with his own blood.

"Dean, I..."

Michael's voice was soft and made every attempt to reassure and calm the agitated hunter but to no avail.

Dean could not see past the vivid image of Mikey's lustful pleasure as he slowly pierced the flesh of his hand with the exquisitely sharp dagger, or feel anything but the pain of his shattered shoulder grinding beneath the daemon's agonising grasp.

"S...stay...away from...me!"

Dean's voice was uncontrolled, his panic evident in his breathlessness, as his wide eyes sought for an escape.

Blood pounded in his ears; making him dizzy and lightheaded' making it harder and harder to distinguish reality from nightmare. He stared into Michael's violet eyes; and watched them widen until their colour was lost to obsidian, and the voice in his head – Mikey's voice, whispered to him.

"I will come back for you, Dean. You will be mine!"

wWw

Raphe rose from his place on the bed beside Dean and turned to the other occupants of the room, his soft yet authoritative voice breaking the silence that was only heightened by Dean's ragged breathing.

"I need the room please"

He looked to Raguel; expecting and receiving his brothers understanding, as the powerful angel shepherded Uri and Jo from the table and towards the door.

"We'll be in Jo's room when you are finished, Raphe."

Raguel placed his hand firmly on Michael's shoulder as he drew level with him; and urged him through the door with his other charges, as Raphael nodded his thanks.

"You too, Sam."

Sam's shocked eyes turned quickly to the healer; his hold on Dean's arm tightening in possessive concern.

"No, I'm not leaving him in this state."

Sam's jaw was set for a fight; the cadence of Dean's panicky breathing beating out the rhythm of Sam's protectiveness.

The angel saw and understood the hunter's reluctance to leave his brother but knew he needed to engineer space and safety for Dean to be able to talk through his fears, and he knew absolutely that the older man would never do that in front of Sam.

He braced himself reluctantly to compel Sam to leave; but was halted as Dean's breathy voice whispered into the room.

"S...okay...S...Sam!"

Dean's smile was weak; his face pale and drained, but Sam was surprised to see determination in his countenance.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded; forcing his body to relax so his breathing would calm allowing him to speak without hiccupping.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm sure. Give me a little time with Raphe."

Sam released his brother's arm and moved reluctantly to the door, Raphe following him.

Sam paused at the threshold of the shabby room, turning to face the tall angel.

"Call if he needs me?"

"Of course, Sam."

Raphe placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; and Sam fought the urge to shake it off, an irrational jealousy that Dean needed the angel, and not himself, burning in his gut.

Sam's last impression of his brother; as the angel softly closed the door, was of Dean's defencelessness, and barely contained panic and pain.

wWw

Sam found himself seated at the table in Jo's room; a mug of coffee in his hand, without being aware of the steps he had reluctantly taken to walk there.

He looked up and found Jo's soft brown eyes staring into his; concern written across her pretty face.

He smiled to reassure her and himself, his ears tuning in finally to the conversation in the room.

"It's understandable, Michael."

Raguel was speaking.

"It's hard for him to recognise you as Michael when all he remembers is days of your possessed form torturing him."

Michael nodded; and placed his hand over Raguel's as it rested on the table, grateful to his brother for the reassurance.

"I know, Raguel, it must be terrifying for Dean to essentially see his tormentor return; but..."

Uriel cut into the conversation; his irritation apparent and undisguised.

"Jeez, Michael! He's gonna have to realise that wasn't you! I won't have him..."

Uriel's devotion to his brother spilled out as anger; and though Sam understood where he was coming from, the angel's implied criticism of Dean burned in his chest.

"Won't have him what, Uriel?"

Sam was on his feet in an instant; his coffee tipped over to drip from the shabby table, as his long legs quickly covered the few steps to the bed Uri sat on. The white blond haired angel met the tall hunter head on; both of them spoiling for a fight, both unwilling to have their brother disrespected in any way.

"It's not Michael's fault; he was possessed for Christ's sake."

"And I suppose you think Dean should shake you all by the fucking hand do ya and say thanks for the experience?"

The veins stood out in Sam's temple as he spoke; and he stared down at the smaller man with undisguised contempt and rage.

"Oh, no wait. Now that'd be difficult with his hand hacked to pieces by your beloved Michael's knife frenzy, wouldn't it? Or shall we talk about his ruined shoulder, or busted ribs, or smashed cheekbone? Let me see, oh yeah, they were all courtesy of your divine brother too as I remember!"

Raguel stepped forcefully between Uriel and Sam; and placed a firm restraining hand on each of the rutting stags, forcefully pushing them apart.

"Down, boys!"

His voice was low and controlled; but held an unmistakable edge of implied menace, and both men absorbed his threat backing off to their former seats eyeing each other warily.

Michael's resonant voice cut the belligerent atmosphere in the room with its hurt but dignified serenity. His etheric eyes commanded both sulking angel and simmering hunter; leaching their anger for each other, and stilling the swirling antipathy to shared embarrassment.

"Sam, I am truly sorry for Dean's ordeal; and my part in it but I cannot undo what has been done."

Sam felt his cheeks burning with dissipating rage and newly dawning shame as he looked into Michael's face and saw the truth of the angel's words. He looked towards Uriel's pale face, and saw matched high spots of colour blossoming there.

"I'm sorry, Michael. It's just that Dean's been through such a lot, and he thinks it's left him different somehow, and although I've tried to tell him that it's just because he was hurt so badly and that he's just as he always has been..."

Sam stopped abruptly; his eyes intent on Michael's face and the reaction therein to his statement.

"He is..."

The words muddled in Sam's head.

"He isn't...changed? Is he, Michael?"

Sam sat down; his legs suddenly new born foal-like beneath his tall frame.

Michael took in the hunter's wide eyes; and sought in his heart for his next vitally important words.

"Sam. Dean is right. His time with the daemon, the painful choices he had to make and his instrumental part in the binding ritual, have inevitably changed him."

Sam swallowed, seeking his voice but his throat was suddenly too dry for words. He accepted the glass of water that Jo thrust into his hand gratefully, raising it shakily to his lips, and swallowing the contents as his mind reverberated in turmoil.

"Changed him how?"

Sam whispered; his large hands wrapping around the cool glass; feeling the droplets of condensation on its outer surface, tickle his palm.

Michael sighed; his eyes seeking Raguel's before he continued.

"That's difficult to say, Sam."

"What do you mean, difficult to say? You mean you don't know or you won't tell me?"

Sam's rage threatened to emerge again and he found himself rising to his feet; his urge to protect Dean churning his gut.

Raguel placed his hand carefully on the furious man's shoulder; his movements deliberately slow and measured, gently forcing Sam to reclaim his seat.

"It's not that I won't tell you, Sam, it's more, as you have guessed that I..."

Michael paused, his hand indicating his brother angels.

"That we, don't really know what this all means for Dean. It's rare, inconceivably rare, that we meet someone like him, and we simply don't know how his gift will manifest."

"Gift?"

Sam felt partially detached from the conversation going on before him; he had an overwhelming urge to run from the room, grab Dean, and make a break for the Impala and sanity. However, that was tempered by his theorist's desire to know all that Michael and the other angels could tell him; anything that might help him to help Dean.

"Yes, Sam, Dean is one of the Gifted."

Jo leaned forward; her hand fluttering to rest on Michael's, drawing his attention momentarily to her honey brown eyes.

"One of the Gifted? Do you mean he's like you all? He's an..?"

She hesitated unable to say the word.

"An angel, Jo?"

Michael smiled despite himself.

"No, Jo! Dean's not an angel...in fact I would go as far as to say 'So Not An Angel'!"

Chapter ends