Chapter 4: What is this archangel you speak of?

"You want to make an archangel? Out of me?", the words came out slowly and with stress on each word. Sam was genuinely perplexed now. What kind of new game is this?

"Can you do that, make angels?", Sam asked in disbelief.

"I can. But not alone. I'll need my partner in crime. Him", she gestured to someone who was standing behind Sam. He flipped around in a swift motion and his eyes became big, just like it did when he first saw Him.

"Chuck?"

A sharp gasp left him and he found himself balancing by clutching the handle of the chair. Did he just stumble? How pathetic!

"Whoa, son!", a hand caught him by his left arm and he saw it was Chuck or God? His vision was blurry. Why it was blurry? Oh! That's right, it was tear! How pathetic, Sam again said to himself. A pair of concerned eyes stared at him for a moment. "Why aren't you eating Sam?", the husky kind voice spoke.

Sam sat on the chair and rubbed his hand over his face in a failed attempt to grasp the concept that God was asking him of his well being. He didn't deserve it! He cringed internally while thinking of Cass's words on their first encounter, "boy with the demon blood".

Death came around and stood beside Chuck, lifting an eyebrow and said, "you have met Him before, right boy?"

"It's not that. He didn't expect me to come and meet him privately without Dean's presence. He thinks my existence is sacred and he doesn't consider himself to be worthy enough to be in front of me. Isn't that right Sam?" He smiled softly while looking at Sam.

Sam, whose head was hanging low, slowly turned away his face because he didn't want Chuck to see the tear that was despite his struggle, betrayed him and left their home to embarrass and free him all at the same time. With all that was going on with Dean and then Jack's deteriorating health, he almost forgot how evil and tainted he felt every forlorn moment he got to himself. Among this chaos, he considered himself to be the least of anybody's concern, even his own. His focus should be on Dean and his turmoil. But seeing Chuck and Death has come to talk to him alone, brought back old suppressed feelings. He made a fist and his knuckles were white by its force, how pathetic!

Death exhaled sharply on the hanging silence, "I think you two should talk" and left.

Note: Aren't you guys liking the story anymore? If so, please let me know, I'll stop updating. Thank you to all who are reading.