She leaned her back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. There had been silence for about five minutes straight, her head was starting to ache slightly from focusing too hard. Pain pulsed it's way up her side, making her clench her side harder and wince. Finally there was noise.

"What the hell you doing, Sam?" Dean's voice sounded heartbroken. She could only imagine what he saw in there. Knowing Sam, and how he'd been acting lately, he probably was ready to end it all. Knowing Dean, he wasn't ready to let go of his little brother. Her heart called out to him, wishing that she could turn back time.

"As you can see, there's not much time," Ezekiel said softly, Seraphiel bit her bottom lip roughly. She was torn. On one hand she wanted Sam with them, on the other she did not condone this decision. Even if he could heal Sam, Sam wouldn't be himself. She wouldn't know who to trust and that would destroy her.

" I know, damn it. I know," Dean snapped softly. From the way his voice wavered she could tell he was leaning towards the possession. She sighed heavily and slid down to the ground.

"How will it work?"

"Mutual benefit I suppose," Ezekiel mussed. She scoffed at that. "I heal Sam while healing myself,"

"Bastard." She muttered under a hushed breath as if he could hear her.

"And when he's healed?" Dean's words were cautious, still flip flopping between trusting the Angel and abandoning the whole thing. From where she sat outside the room, she was inwardly begging Dean not to do it.

"I leave. It's the best of a bad situation, Dean."

"Even if I said yes, it don't mean squat. Sam will never say yes—not to you," Sera could almost hear the clocks in Dean's head turn as he concocted a plan. Ezekiel seemed to have gotten the hint.

"But he would say yes to you."

She pushed herself up, opening the door and walking in. Her arms crossed tightly and her glare shifting between the two men. They looked at her but her gaze flew to Ezekiel. He clung to his side as if putting pressure on an open wound. No doubt his vessel was injured and in need of repair. His woodsy green eyes watched her and for a moment she wanted to forget her anger and spite.

"Of course he'll say yes, dumbass. You are about to trick Sam into finding a will to live. I can't talk you out of it, I know that, but remember this when shit hits the fan— because it will— I do not condone any of this. I am not supporting this but as of right now this is the only way to get him to live. So do what you're gonna do, but remember that all of this is on you two." She said through pressed teeth. Dean nodded, accepting the blame. She watched with baited breath as Ezekiel once again pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and Sam's. Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head, leaving only white blankets behind. She found herself alone again, her world seeming to turn upside down in front of her. She walked over to Sam, sinking into the chair and leaning forward, her finger tips stroking the soft chestnut hair on the top of his head that peeked through the bandages. She sniffled, cocking her head to the side gently.

"Listen, Sammy. I know things seem hard right now but you have to come back, Dean's not going to make it without you. He's going crazy already. Plus, I'll miss you. I'll miss our late night banters and our snarky moments. I'll miss riding in the Impala and listening to Dean's stupid music with you. So fight, you ass muffin." She pleaded softly, her voice thick with sadness and tears. The crystalline droplets fell onto the sheets. She didn't know how things would work out, and she wasn't exactly the praying type of person. She just needed things to be like they once were.

The minutes ticked by, her leg began to bounce anxiously. It was then that the white light escaped Ezekiel's vessel, a high pitched whistling sound making her clasp her hand over her sensitive ears. The white stream flooded into Sam, his back arching sharply as the essence filled him. Ezekiel's vessel slumped to the floor, unconscious and limp. Dean gasped, his eyes rolling back to the front, finding a saddened Seraphiel staring in shock as Sam's body slowly lowered back onto the bed.

"Sammy?" She reaches a shaking hand towards his face. Sam's eyes shot open and he sat up, his gaze never leaving hers. He stared at her knowingly, as if he'd heard her. There was something different in his sea blue eyes.

"We should leave." He advised, pulling his IV out and unhooked himself from the machines. Dean hurriedly collected his clothes, handing them to him. Seraphiel's shoulders slumped forward, she should have expected that it would be Ezekiel who would greet her first. She politely walked out of the room and down the corridor, leaving Sam to get dressed. She'd meet them outside, she was sure that they would be grateful for the privacy.

She grimaced, pain rocketing up her side again. She snuck into the supply room, grabbing a few bandages and some morphine for the pain. She'd need it, even though her metabolism would probably burn through the medicine within 15–20 minutes. Thinking of Sam, she grabbed a few more bottles of morphine and syringes, and some penicillin for Dean. She knew how adventurous he was with his women, no doubt he'd need this in the future. She left the room, shutting the door behind her and keeping her head down and out of view of the cameras as she made her way downstairs.