On the road, prior to Death Takes a Holiday.

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They were somewhere just over the South Dakota border on Interstate 90, driving from Iowa to Wyoming in pursuit of another possible connection to the seals being broken. They had pulled off exit 48 and gotten a room at the Ramada Inn. The nice thing about South Dakota in the off-season was that even the nice hotels were cheap. Plus Sam had gone online and booked the room using a promo code that made it even cheaper. It meant clean towels and decent water pressure, an unlimited supply of hot water even.

It also meant two gigantic queen beds, so they could sleep so far apart they were practically on the other side of the room from each other. The motel itself had a bar and slot machines too. Dean had exited the room almost as soon as he had entered, dropping his duffle bag on the bed closest to the door and leaving again without a word.

Sam sighed, grabbed a quick shower, changed and left the room, intent on the 24-hour diner across the street and something large and hot for dinner. He got as far as the end of the building, turned the corner and ran straight into Raethaniel.

His hunter reflexes made him jump back, his hand reaching for the knife hidden under his shirt.

"Raethaniel," he said, exhaling in relief.

She smiled uncertainly. "Raeth will do," she offered, "I know it's confusing since it rhymes with something that hunters usually kill-"

"Wait," he said, "Wraiths? They exist?"

"Yes," she answered, eyes wide. "You just haven't encountered any. There's probably something in your father's journal about them."

"No, I'd have read it. I've read the thing cover to cover. Umm, how do you know about my father's journal?"

Instead of answered she asked, "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

"I was about to get dinner. The restaurant is probably empty this time of night. Will that do?"

"Yes."

Instinctively, Sam put his hand in the center of her back to guide her to the crosswalk. Usually he was immune to casual touch. But this time the point of contact felt anything but casual. It felt important, a rush of energy similar to the one he'd felt from the ring of Solomon.

Raeth glanced at him and he knew she had felt it too.

They crossed the street against the light but there was no real traffic. A single car made them wait, hovering on the yellow line, until it had passed. Then they ran for the diner.

As he had predicted the place was practically deserted. They got a welcoming smile from the neatly uniformed server.

"Sit wherever you like," she said, "Be right with you."

Sam chose a booth in the extreme far corner of the diner, away from the two other occupied tables. He felt kind of bad making their server walk that far, but he sensed their conversation was going to be about all things supernatural. Therefore, it was better not to sit somewhere they could be overheard.

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hooks attached to the seats. He indicated her jacket with a lift of his eyebrows. Raethaniel hesitated a moment and then took it off, along with her scarf. Under it she was wearing a light blue cable knit sweater.

With his well-honed peripheral vision, Sam admired the way the sweater fit for a moment; then he felt guilty about staring at an angel. So he opened a menu and scanned it.

"Order whatever you want," he said.

"So you can pay with a stolen credit card?"

Sam glanced at her sharply. "Shh," he cautioned. "But no. I have cash. Gambling is legal in this state and I hit a casino with Dean last night."

"Gambling?" She said.

"Yeah," Sam admitted, "I know this might be hard for you to take in."

Raeth reached for a menu. "I have been a guardian of the third Heaven for millennia. I'll just say things have changed."

"Look," Sam said, setting the menu aside and leaning forward, folding his arms on the laminate table. "I'm a hunter. I've accepted that. But I don't get paid for this and I live in a society that demands money in exchange for food and shelter. If you have some suggestions about how to fix that without resorting to less savory means, then please tell me."

"It wasn't a judgment," she protested. "I'm just trying to figure out this new world I'm dealing with."

"I thought you were going back to hea- Back home."

"No. That's been postponed."

Sam was prevented from asking why when their server arrived. He asked a few questions about some of the things offered, earning him a few frowns from their server. But he settled on a turkey club sandwich (with real turkey breast) on whole wheat toast, a salad with dressing on the side and a fruit cup.

"What do you want?" He asked Raeth.

After a pause she said, "Can I just have the same?"

Their server said, "Sure. Couple of decafs to go with that?"

"I'll just have water," Sam said.

"Water is fine," Raeth agreed.

"Coming right up." With that the woman left and headed towards the kitchen.

Sam put the menus back in the little holder behind the condiments and salt and pepper.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Sam asked. "Is it whatever has kept you from going back home?"

"I was never going back home," she answered. "I've been given new orders that will keep me here for a while."

"New orders? From that same very high source?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"Can I ask what they are?"

Raeth waited because their server returned with tall glasses of ice water. Sam gave a nod of gratitude before she walked away.

"You're very nice to her," Raeth observed.

"It's just good manners," Sam said, "I may be a hunter but I try not to be a jerk."

"She serves you."

"It's her job. Doesn't mean she's less than I am."

Raeth sipped her water and considered that. "At home there is a hierarchy that is strictly adhered to. None of my superiors would be required to treat me with anything but indifference and I would not consider questioning that."

"We're not in- your home."

"That much is obvious," she said. "But things at home seem to be changing."

"What do you mean? Sam asked sharply.

But Raethaniel already looked as if she regretted the words. "Nothing I'd be prepared to elaborate on at the moment. Please forget I said anything."

Sam studied her carefully and nodded, even though he knew better than to ever forget anything anyone said to him. "So why are you still here and why do you need to talk to me?"

"I have been assigned to you."

"Assigned to me?"

"As a guardian."

Sam looked off to the side, thinking about that, pondering it, and when it sank in his mouth was pulled by a series of short smiles that ended with an exhale of laughter.

"What? A guardian? You're my guardian angel now?" he laughed a little bit more, looking amused and incredulous.

Raeth's eyes – still an impossible combination of every shade of brown and gold imaginable- narrowed dangerously. "I take this very seriously, Sam."

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm taking it seriously too. I mean you're the first angel I've ever met who actually looks the way I always pictured them and now you're my guardian. It's like one of those pictures they put in kids' nurseries. You know – the little kid walking in a field with flowers with an angel in a white robe and flowing blond hair floating behind him?"

"You are not a little kid," she pointed out, "and I am not wearing a white robe."

Sam grinned again. But he was still looking at her with those incredible eyes, which were somehow more gray/blue this time, a fragment of stormy skies. They were still deep and intelligent eyes and somehow even more striking now, when they were lit with humor. Raethaniel found that she was looking into those eyes for longer than was absolutely necessary.

Their food arrived and Sam dug into it because he hadn't eaten since having a peanut butter sandwich in the Impala hours ago.

He was about halfway through his sandwich and salad when he paused to ask. "How is yours? What do you think?"

She chewed thoughtfully. "I am not certain that I taste things the way you do; and I don't actually need to eat. This is more curiosity. But I think it is….. good."

"Okay," Sam said, feeling unreasonably pleased. "So how does this guardian thing work?"

"I protect you from accidents."

"Can you help when I'm hunting?"

"Only in a limited way," she told him.

"Like how?" Sam demanded.

She leaned forward, imitating the way he had folded his arms on the table.

"Do you remember waking up in the closet when you were hunting the rugaru?"

"Yes. That was you?"

"Yes."

"You couldn't have opened the closet door too?"

"I'm not allowed to do things for you that you can do for yourself, or to stop you from doing things that are your own free choice. You were capable of getting out of the closet, either by picking the lock or just kicking the door out."

Sam considered that. It seemed reasonable. He didn't mind the idea of someone making sure he didn't cut himself with a steak knife. But he got enough of being treated like a child from his brother.

"Okay, so fine," he shrugged, and then finished off the mostly-melon fruit cup.

"I also moved the chain closer to you when you went after the buruburu, so that it was within your reach. I'm also allowed to give you advice," she said.

That made the humor fade from his eyes. "Like what?"

"You never have to take it."

"Fine. Like what?"

"Try to fix whatever is wrong between you and Dean. There is a faction that would like nothing more than to bring this world to its knees with the apocalypse. They are trying to put a wedge between the two of you. They are also trying to undermine your brother's confidence and there is no better way to do that than to make him think you don't believe in him."

"They? You mean demons?"

Raeth looked down at her plate. "Perhaps, yes. But…."

Sam frowned in confusion. "You don't mean angels would try to start the apocalypse?"

"I told you I am not prepared to discuss that right now. I need more information and that will be difficult if I am following you constantly."

"I don't mean to complicate your life," Sam said, drily, rolling his eyes.

"It's not that," she said, quickly. "You come first. My orders are to keep you alive as best I can and I intend to do that. I shouldn't even be thinking about doing anything else. It's close to-"

She broke off and Sam supplied helpfully, "Blasphemy?"

"Yes," she said, seriously, looking miserable. "I don't have any right to ask anything of you, Sam. You barely know me. But we need both of you to be strong right now and you're never strong when you're fighting with each other. I know you love your brother. Just try to make it right?"

Sam shrugged. But he'd already decided to try. It never felt good when he was mad at Dean, or vice versa and certainly not when the anger was mutual.

"Okay, I'll try; and we will get over it, eventually. It just depends on how stubborn he decides to be."

"And you think he'll be stubborn?"

Sam snorted. "Stubborn is Dean's super power," he said and there was no mistaking the genuine affection under the exasperation in his voice. "I think he was kicked by a radioactive mule at some point."

Raeth stared at him blankly. "I don't understand."

Sam stared back. There was something about her that made him forget she literally wasn't from around here. She was easy to talk to, not arrogant or condescending. The fact that she would readily admit there were things she didn't know or understand helped too. Maybe Castiel was right and all angels weren't dicks.

"It's a comic book reference. Super heroes."

She shook her head. "I still don't understand."

"Okay," Sam said, "Look, after we're done eating we can go to the convenience store on the corner and I bet they have comic books. I'll get some and we can go back to the room and I'll try to explain."

"You mean just stay with you, in your room?"

"Yeah. You're supposed to watch over me, right?" When she nodded, he went on, "So, that doesn't mean you can't hang out with me. Right? In fact, I'm thinking it's easier to watch over me if you're right there in the room."

"I guess it doesn't," she admitted.

Sam took a shot at explaining the super hero culture to her as they finished eating. Then he signaled their server again.

"Can I get you some desert?" She asked upon arriving at their table.

"I see you have pies in the case?" Sam asked.

She smiled and rattled off an impressive assortment of flavors. When she was done, Sam said,

"Well take one apple, one cherry and one chocolate cream, to go. I'll also need your biggest cheeseburger with everything you have on it, a giant pile of fries and the check, please."

"You got it," their server said and left them alone again.

"Is all that pie for us?" Raethaniel asked.

"No," Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Though I can probably get you a slice of one if you want to try it. They're for Dean – a peace offering. By the time he finishes the second one at breakfast tomorrow, we'll be friends again."

"I see," she nodded. "Will it work?"

Sam grinned again. "Yeah," he said. "It'll work. We'll have to postpone the trip to the comic book store. I'll need to get that burger to Dean while it's still hot."

"What if he's already eaten?"

Sam snorted and shook his head. "You don't know my brother. Dean is always hungry. Besides, he's a Winchester. We eat whenever food is available."

"I'll keep that in mind," she hesitated and then pushed her plate towards him. There was still half a sandwich and most of the cantaloupe and melon on it. "Do you want to finish this?"

"Are you sure you're done?"

"Yes. Eating is more experimental for me, and besides, you paid for it. It was good, but I don't want to waste it."

Sam eagerly picked the plate up and pushed his to the side to make room. He tried to ignore the way it made him feel. It wasn't like this was a 'date' but it was starting to seem like it. Eating the rest of her food seemed like something too intimate. But he was practical about food and he had just told her that Winchesters ate whatever was available.

And he was still hungry. He wondered if she knew that, if being his guardian meant she could read his mind.

She smiled and said, "No."

"No?"

"I can't read your mind," she said.

"Then how did you just do that?" He wanted to be upset and found that he couldn't. He was fighting another smile.

"A lot of what you think is on your face. You're easy to 'read' but there's nothing psychic about it."

"Okay," Sam said, "I can live with that."

"That's what I am here to help you do," his guardian angel answered.

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