Chapter 6

Sam hated the idea of trapping his angel. While he didn't mind summoning the being since he had given his permission, Sam hated the thought of trying to catch him. Bobby had just finished painting the new symbols along the side of the barn they would be using. It was covered in charms and warding to try and keep everything they could think of locked inside. If this were a regular hunt, there would be no hesitation. This wasn't a usual hunt though; this was trying to trap an angel, one who had done nothing but soothe and protect Sam when he didn't have to.

It was wrong.

Opening his mouth to protest again, Sam was interrupted by a harsh glare from Dean. They had been arguing since Dean came into their shared bedroom that morning. While it had been joking and teasing at first, it had soon turned into serious arguments. The older Winchester wouldn't even consider the possibility of the feather being from an angel, while Sam wouldn't believe anything different. If it wasn't for Bobby cutting between them, the younger brother was confident it would have come to blows hours ago. As it stood, while neither were happy with the other, they had yet to raise a fist.

If Dean didn't stop with his eye rolls and snorting whenever Sam mentioned his angel that was going to change.

Barely able to ignore another jab from Dean, Sam sighed before making his way to their alter. Not knowing any ritual which would summon an angel, they had resorted to combining a few pagan rituals. The spell consisted of some candles, some Latin, a bit of blood, the feather and they hoped the angel would appear. If not, it would be back to the books until Sam either convinced them the angel meant no harm or someone took the feather from him.

He hoped this worked.

Slicing a cut along the palm of his hand, Sam chanted the words Bobby had modified from an ancient ritual for summoning a god long-since forgotten. Letting his blood drop onto the feather where it rested inside a stone bowl, Sam could see the feather glow brightly for a moment before it dulled, the plume absorbed his blood and burned the red liquid until nothing remained else remained but it's golden light. Waiting for a moment, Sam looked around the barn, hopeful for something, anything to appear. Bobby and Dean were standing behind him, each holding a gun, one of rock-salt and the other with silver bullets.

Holding his breath, Sam shifted slightly in place while waiting for his angel. It must have been five minutes before Bobby sighed heavily, Dean echoing the sound. Turning to try and argue against another summoning, Sam barely opened his mouth when he heard a somewhat familiar voice come from behind him.

"Well, you guys sure know how to throw a welcoming party. Where're the drinks? The food? The strippers?"

Quickly Sam turned to face a man he didn't think he would see again. It took only a moment to place him, but Sam remembered speaking with the janitor when they were working their last case. The custodian wasn't what Sam was expecting when he turned around, but one look in his honey-golden eyes and the hunter didn't question this was the angel he had been waiting for. There was a certain glow to him, the same light Sam had seen on the feather, and though they didn't have confirmation of what he was, Sam knew he was looking at one of God's angels.

"Sorry, we decided against Vegas night. So, what are you? I bet you were the one who pushed the professor out of his damn window! I knew there was something off with you the moment I saw you. What are you trying to pull, slumming it with the humans?" Dean postured.

Sam hoped Bobby would stop Dean from speaking soon. Watching as the angel shrugged before taking a few steps closer, the brunet couldn't take his eyes off the creature before him.

"What can I say? While not Dad, I stole the idea from Joan Osborne."

The man paused then and looked at Sam directly. He didn't seem worried about both Dean and Bobby pointing guns at him. With a snap of his fingers the janitor created a throne out of thin air, it was elaborate in design, with high back and winged arms, Sam watched as the blond man flopped down on it gracefully. With one leg hooked over an armrest, the angel propped his head up with his palm.

"I thought this was going to be a Q and A?" stated the man, causing Sam to speak before anyone else could. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to start questioning the angel.

"Why did you answer me?"

The question wasn't one they had agreed upon. First, they were supposed to establish a base with the man, to see if they could figure out his motives and name. Sam didn't care about what kind of powers the other had or what his endgame was. What he wanted to know was why the angel had answered his prayer in the first place. Sam watched as the angel shook his head with a small half-smile on his face.

"Not going to beat around the bush I take it?" Sam couldn't help but rub at the back of his neck, offering an apologetic shrug. "Well, I should probably answer your brother's question first before I get to yours, yeah? Yes, I was the one who pushed the rapist out his window. Well, technically it was the ghost of the girl who killed herself after he forced himself on her. She chose the sin of suicide over the sin of abortion."

Before Dean could get more than a grunt out, the man continued. "I'm sure you'll have more to say about that Big Boy, and you can - once Jolly Green is done asking his questions." The man focused his attention back on Sam, his eyes observing the taller man for a moment before he spoke.

"I answered your prayer for a number of reasons Sam. First, I was in the neighborhood and while I don't answer every one that comes my way, I was curious about what a hunter would pray for. Second, what was done to you by those demons wasn't your fault, it was wearing down on your very soul, and there was no need for it when you were trying so hard to fight against it."

Sam looked downward for a moment before bringing his eyes back to the golden ones who had captured his, the angel continuing once they established eye contact. "Third it wasn't completely by choice. The second I was close to you my grace acted. It shouldn't have been like that you know? Humans weren't designed to take grace, but you did. Instinct should have kicked in and had you fighting but you embraced it, and in doing so allowed my grace to purge any trace of demon from you; body and soul," explained the angel, taking a breath before continuing.

"I gave you my feather for a reason Samuel Winchester. You are an exceptional human, and I wish to protect you, something I haven't done since Jesus walked the earth. My feather will always seek you out, and through a small connection with my grace, it will allow me to sense if you are fatally wounded or in need of me. It can not be taken from you or removed, once it leaves your presence it will return, always." The look in those whiskey-colored eyes wiped away any lingering doubt Sam might have had.

"And I suppose you pass those out like candy?" asked Bobby, his voice holding a warning edge. Sam barely noticed his hand was now holding the feather against his chest, the same feather which had been sitting in a bowl a few minutes before.

"Of course not it's typically not done any longer. I mean, sure if angels were around all the time and not upstairs there might be one or two every century or so, but nobody leaves the home office anymore."

"Why did you leave?" Sam asked, his fingers still clutched around the golden feather. The angel had a haunted look to his eyes then, one Sam wanted nothing more than to erase. "Heaven for angels isn't the same as humans; I'm not getting into my history now. Needless to say, it's been a while since I was last upstairs, so I can't say for certain that it hasn't been done, but I doubt it," said the blond with a shrug.

Bobby must have gestured to Dean to let the subject drop as it wasn't mentioned again. Instead, the older hunter asked his next question, surprising Sam. "So you're claiming to be an angel? Where is your garrison or your sign of Divine Wrath? What proof do we have you're not something else trying to squeeze their way close to John's boy?"

The angel shook his head for a moment, the half-smile still on his face. "Told you, most angels are upstairs, haven't used any Divine anything for ages now, so they can't find me. As far as The Host is aware? I died with my last charge. I made it appear like there were Knights of Hell trying to get at him, top-notch demons, in case you're wondering what they are. Faked my death after my charge promised not to say anything when he got upstairs."

"And the angels would believe that these arch-demons were after your charge? Who was he? Jesus?" Though it was said with a laugh from Dean, Sam watched as the angel's half-smile turned into a full smirk. When he didn't say anything for a moment it went quiet, Dean stopped laughing, and Sam couldn't help but gasp.

"It was, wasn't it? Your last charge was Jesus… which would make you…"

The angel raised his eyebrow for a moment before sitting properly on his throne and slowly clapping his hands. There was a curse of 'balls' behind him, but Sam didn't turn around. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find his voice as the angel stood from his throne and it vanished behind him.

"Gabriel," the angel answered for him, his tone a combination of resignation and pride. "They call me Gabriel."