BREAKING THE FAST
PART 2

Gabriel watched the boys leave the kitchen, Mary close on their heels. He let out a long sigh and sank back into his chair next to his brother. The younger angel was sipping coffee like it was wine, swirling each mouthful around to taste it completely before swallowing.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabriel thought over the bits of information he'd gathered through the morning. He couldn't figure out if Sam was more scared of him or being left unprotected. The boy had been a skittish thing since he first saw him in the garage, swinging between anxiety and anger with brief reprieves of safety with Dean. Knowing his history with Lucifer had prepared Gabriel for the prospect of Sam not trusting another archangel, but the continuous argument against him 'wasting his grace' seemed contradictory.

Learning about the Zanna raised some red flags for Gabriel. Most of them were adorable creatures drawn to lonely children, but there were others higher up the chain who dealt with the more extreme cases. For Sully to have been with the kid for six years meant he was a long-term placement, and to have the authority to reveal their existence to two human adults showed how much authority Sam's Zanna friend held. The fact that he'd come to Sam when the boy's brother started school didn't escape him. How cared for had the toddler been without Dean around?

Brother? Castiel's voice broke into Gabriel's thoughts.

Yeah, Cassie.

Castiel's coffee cup clinked against the table as he set it down. I did not think the Zanna stayed with children so long.

They usually don't. He tried not to picture the baby alone in a dirty motel room long enough to draw the attention of the protector-race.

I've heard some have specialized abilities to deal with certain...repeated needs among the children they watch. There was a pause and Gabriel braced himself when he saw his brother reach a similar realization about their charges. I know the brothers struggled with having enough food at a young age, but I did not think it would have been so severe so early. To require intercession at the age of three...do you suppose that was Sully's specialty?

You mean, do I suppose John Winchester failed to care for and feed his toddler because Dean wasn't there to do it for him? Gabriel asked with a raised brow.

Castiel slowly nodded. I was reluctant to phrase it in such a way. I knew nothing of them until I pulled Dean's soul from Hell and reformed his body. They have always been warriors. I do not know how to imagine them as defenseless children. But now that Sam is so...small... his fingers traced the lip of his cup as he struggled for words. I am not sure if it is his size or his grace that makes me feel like I must protect him. There is a need to keep him close, to stay connected. To think of him even younger, fully innocent, and unguarded...

I'm right there with you, baby bro. Talk about wanting to time-hop to the past. Gabriel sat up a bit and faced Castiel. Hey, do you know why Sam is so hung up on my use of grace? He freaked out about me wasting it on making breakfast and the time traveling, worried that I won't have enough grace to fight. What am I missing here?

Castiel winced. There are many valid reasons. Sam witnessed several periods where my power was greatly diminished—including both my gradual fall from the host when I became cut off from Heaven, and the literal fall of all the angels when Metatron cast us from Heaven which burnt our wings and left us mostly human. When I had any grace, I was forced to ration it. We have lost many friends and battles due to my weakened state over the years.

Gabriel felt sick. Your wings burned?

His brother looked away. When we fell through the Earth's atmosphere. It killed some of us. Others couldn't find compatible vessels. Most had never set foot on Earth and had no idea what to make of human cultures.

Our Father, who art in a bar, I had no idea. When you said the Scribe took over Heaven, I never imagined...

Yes, well, my wings and grace have been restored. God healed Lucifer when we were co-inhabiting my vessel. Castiel shifted in his seat. In fact, I think I may know what specific incident set off this particular 'hang-up.'

By all means, share with the class. Gabriel huffed an empty laugh, too upset over all the siblings he'd been too dead to save.

Instead of speaking, Castiel reached over with two fingers and lightly pressed them to the back of Gabriel's hand. Images instantly flooded his mind, layered with sounds and smells and emotion. The archangel had no problem sorting between the dual-perspectives of Castiel and Lucifer as they experienced the scene.

It was the same event Sam had flashed back to during breakfast—the moment Lucifer, wearing Castiel's face, showed himself to the youngest Winchester. Only now, Gabriel sensed everything through the grace of two angels instead of a limited human mind. He felt Lucifer's twisted glee at being able to finally do the big reveal and the rush of violating his true-vessel's soul. He felt Castiel's despair as he fought against the archangel's control, pushing through the agony of burnt grace to save his friend.

Mostly, he saw Sam as the adult he was right before being transformed. The man looked exhausted—gaunt cheeks framed by sharp bone, dirty hair, dark and desperate eyes. The weight of the world was heavy on his shoulders, and Gabriel could see the hunter breaking at the possibility of losing both Dean and Castiel. But all that was secondary to the dying shards of light flickering within Sam's chest. No wonder the kid was so powerful—his Father would have used a great deal of grace to heal so little soul.

Shuddering, Gabriel snapped up a tall mug of his special hot chocolate. For a minute, he sipped the sweet drink and shook off the echos of his older brother's hollow laugh. I don't know what I'll do when I see him again, he growled to Castiel.

Who? Sam? Castiel jerked in surprise, anxiety clear in his expression.

No, Cassie. I meant Lucifer. Gabriel frowned, wondering if Sam's constant fear of rejection was well founded if Castiel was expressing the same concern on the boy's behalf. I don't even recognize him now. He's gotten worse since he killed me.

Castiel ducked his head back over his coffee. To be fair, what I showed you was before he and God...talked.

Oh, to be a fly on that wall! he smirked, but his brother didn't look up.

Father apologized to him. Castiel's true-voice was barely a whisper.

Gabriel froze, speechless. Shock at the unbelievable words and relief at knowing they'd finally been said warred with the hot white anger that screamed "too little too late!" Why had it taken so much devastation and pain for Him to even return to His family? How much could have been avoided had He simply talked to them sooner?

His vision blurred as he stared at the hunched form of his little brother. The seraph was one of the most amazing creatures Gabriel had ever known. How he had survived everything was a miracle. And he suspected Castiel's miracle was intertwined with the Winchesters. The three were a wayward family of orphans who kept each other together—and knowing how volatile all three were, they probably did it even when they tore each other apart.

Using his foot against the angel's chair, Gabriel spun Castiel around to face him. Not giving his startled brother a chance to speak, the archangel leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. Held him just to remind himself that they had a second chance. That Gabriel had a second chance.

Gabriel? Castiel sounded unsure.

"You know, I'm glad Dad didn't let me go back to Heaven like I wanted," Gabriel laughed through his tears and tightened his grip.

"What?" Castiel's voice was rougher than usual.

"I was so ready to rush back home and jump straight into being the big brother again. I missed my family, especially you younger ones," he pulled back, bringing his hands up to rest on Castiel's shoulders, "When Dad first sent me to this abandoned building in nowhere-Kansas, I thought I was being punished. Or that this was a test because He didn't trust me with taking care of everyone so He would try me out with the little angel and his human friends," he laughed, "Boy, have I got a lot to learn. How useless would I be in Heaven when I know so little about what's happened since I left?"

Castiel gave him a rare smile, "I fear you will not learn much staying with us. We frequently rush into situations with faulty assumptions and a lack of information."

It made Gabriel's smile turn from forced to fond. "Yeah, that sounds like you guys. Well, I should say it definitely sounds like Dean, and I could see you following that lemming off the cliff. I'm guessing Sam is usually the one who ends up doing the research and jumping to the wrong conclusion."

Castiel tilted his head in thought, "It varies from case to case, but I would say that is an accurate assessment of our weaker tendencies."

"How did Metatron give you every pop-culture reference and piece of human literature, but you still talk like you learned English from legal documents?"

Blue eyes blinked in confusion as Gabriel chuckled and mussed the already messy hair. He stood, but instead of walking away, he dropped his hand from his brother's hair to his shoulder blades. Reaching with his grace, he felt along the strong wings. There was no sign of past damage, but his brother's grace was a mess. Like his hair.

"Castiel, when is the last time you saw the healers in Heaven?" It was a necessary task to keeping their grace cleansed and unfettered by the muck of the world. Many angels simply groomed each other in close-knit groups as a means of communal care. Some were not naturally drawn to those types of bonds, preferring solitary meditation. But in Heaven, even the lone wanderers would be connected enough for others to intervene.

Some of Gabriel's fondest memories of life prior to running away involved the frequent interventions his older brothers staged whenever he became too distracted to care for himself. Lucifer or Michael would usually be the one to catch him—exhausted from playing with their youngest siblings or wrung out from an obsession to right some wrong on Earth. They'd haul his ass to Raphael and he would sit through all their lectures while the Healer hummed the Father's song for creation and sorted through his grace.

Castiel's wings alone needed a lot of work. Gabriel ran his grace along the feathery edges and took note of all the places in disorder. He felt the muscles twitch under his hand as his brother squirmed away from the sensation.

Castiel turned and scowled when he saw Gabriel's grin. "The healers have not wasted their efforts on something as menial as wing-grooming in a very long time, brother. Not since so many wars decimated our numbers and left us short on healers. My grace is probably in a better condition than most in Heaven."

Gabriel winced as yet another new piece of information gave him a clearer picture of the Heaven's current state. "Well, I can't imagine Raphael will allow that to continue when he returns. It will be like mandatory spay day for years up there."

"That is...a comforting thought. Heaven needs a chance to heal and renew itself. Good leadership will go a long way in restoring hope and order."

"And while they're getting sorted out up there, I'm going to teach you everything I know about angel child care. Because if there's one thing I've learned about fledglings and Winchesters it's that they are a handful. And now that we have a two-for-one special it is gonna be all hands on deck."

Castiel frowned, but looked determined. "I have no experience with children—human or angel. As a soldier, I can protect him, but I do not know how good I will be as a caregiver."

"Well, that's a load of horseshit," Gabriel gave his brother's shoulder a shove, "I've seen you with the kid. You are a natural! Seriously, you should have been a guardian at the very least. A lot of it is instinct once I point a few things out to you. Besides," his tone turned serious and slightly pleading, "Sam trusts you. Learning control requires trust and, while I can intervene when his grace goes crazy, it may be awhile before he feels comfortable working with me alone. So I was thinking we'd do some group lessons."

"That sounds...very interesting," his frown smoothed as he considered Gabriel's plan, "It is wise to be wary of Sam's reaction. He's been amenable to your presence so far, but there is a deep seated fear of archangels and he tends to avoid any angel's grace. It was only at Dean's insistence that Sam even allows me to heal him most times. Now, his sensitivity is greater. Be careful you do not touch him with your grace without talking about it first. He can be...explosive."

"Yikes. I can imagine," Gabriel sucked in a breath, "Alright, no surprise grace-poking. Not a problem. I need the kid to relax, anyway. He's starting to make me nervous with this incessant worrying. That little angel brain is going to short-circuit if he doesn't calm it down soon."

"There has been very little opportunity for relaxation free of stress in recent years." Castiel pointed out.

"I'm starting to get that," Gabriel shook his head, wondering if he may have ended up with the larger task among the archangels. He ran his hand one last time through Castiel's wild hair and tugged on it gently, "Come on, Cassie. We got some stuff to set up for today outside."

With a snap, both angels vanished from the kitchen.

Mary sat on the edge of the bed in Sam's room. Piles of new clothes sat in a mound between her and where Dean perched on the other side of the bed. They had a system where Dean got rid of all the tags (including the kind sewn into items because they irritated Sam's skin the first time around) and Mary would fold them. Sam was supposed to be cleaning out the dresser drawers he could reach, but they were already mostly empty. Adult Sam had been too tall to bother storing things in the bottom drawers.

"What do you think he's planning?" Sam asked for the third time since they'd left the kitchen.

Dean shrugged and pulled another price tag off a pair of jeans.

"Dean..." Sam tried again.

"Sam..." Dean mimicked his brother's tone but threw a pair of socks at Sam's head to let him know he was joking.

Sam picked them up off the floor and set them in a drawer beside the other four pairs he'd had thrown at him so far. "I just...you don't think it's something elaborate, do you? Like, Trickster-elaborate?" Another pair of socks beamed him in the face and he added them to the pile.

"I promise that I have no idea what Gabriel's planning. I'm working off the same amount of information as you are, dude." Dean answered as he tossed a whole package of underwear to his brother. Sam managed to catch these and he put them away with the same level of seriousness as the socks.

"I know you guys mentioned having a history with Gabriel. I take it he hasn't just cooked you two breakfast feasts in the past?" Mary asked. So far, the archangel was like nothing she'd imagined, but she definitely knew that there was tension between her sons and the powerful being.

"That's one way of putting it," Sam muttered.

Dean laughed, but it was edged with anger, "Oh yeah, nothing like trapping us in time-loops and alternative universes to teach us a lesson."

"Castiel mentioned the part about lessons, but not what Gabriel wanted you to learn," she folded a sweater and watched the boys' very different reactions to the conversation. "Just tried to reassure me that he never tried to kill you, which honestly didn't set the bar very high in expectation."

Mary saw Dean's hands nervously pick over a small sweater, his attention hyper-focused on the object. Sam, though...she heard him make a choked sound and turned in time to see his eyes glaze as he stared unseeing at the wall. "Sam?" she gently called, not wanting her son to get stuck in another memory. She wondered if he had always struggled with flash backs, or if it was a recent development tied to his angel abilities.

Dean looked up at her tone and saw his brother. Grabbing another pair of socks, he said, "Heads up, Sammy," and tossed them. Sam didn't catch them, but the perfect strike was enough to jolt him from his daze. He frowned at the offending item before placing it in the drawer. Dean cleared his throat, and glanced over at Mary without turning, "It's complicated. Our past with Gabriel...it's complicated. He's an asshole and he did a lot of stupid, awful things in those 'lessons.' None of it was permanent except the memories. But he did come through for us in the end—after we bitched him out for not standing up to his family," he forced a smile while he kept watch of Sam, "And he made a hell of a breakfast. So, who knows? Maybe Chuck talked some sense into him."

Sam gave a dry laugh that sounded far too cynical coming from such a young voice, "You realize you're practically Heaven's therapist at this point, right? You saw right through Gabriel's act and knew he was an angel just by how he talked about his brothers. And you changed his mind enough that he helped us. You facilitated a whole conversation between God and Lucifer that allowed for an alliance. And to top it all off, you convinced Amara not to destroy the universe and reunited her with Chuck."

"Think I should send them a bill?" Dean smirked, clearly latching on to Sam's teasing with relief.

Sam stood up, "Nah, I don't think Heaven cares enough about currency to pay," he adjusted the pajamas he still wore so he could walk to Mary's side. He carefully gathered the pile of folded clothes, and said a quiet thank you before returning to put them away.

They finished the rest pretty quickly. All the clothes fit into three drawers now that his new shirts folded down to the size of his old socks. Sam picked out an outfit and assured her and Dean that he was fully capable of dressing himself, then proceeded to push them both from the room. His door closed with a soft 'click' and Mary worried he'd have trouble opening it again.

"Are you sure he's about six physically? I feel like he's too small for six. Some of his clothes were meant for toddlers, and I swear he's smaller than you were a week ago," she whispered to him as they walked back toward the war table to retrieve her own bags of clothes.

Dean scoffed, "I'm telling you, it's all about the hair. I'd know Sam's age at any point in time based on his hair alone, and those curls narrow it down to a six month period. But you're right—Sam was small for his age. It wasn't until he hit his teens that he caught up to his age group. By the time he was sixteen I think he mutated because he blew right past me in height. He stayed scrawny until Stanford and he's been putting on bulk since then. I'll have to find you some photos—he was given the nickname 'moose' for a reason."

Mary shook her head in disbelief. She still struggled to see her Dean in the man before her. It was getting easier, but there were moments where he slipped away and she'd panic a little at the sudden stranger. Sam was an even harder adjustment. She saw none of the infant in the child's face. To imagine him as a man larger than Dean was a stretch too far for her. "Photo's would help. Everything helps at this point. I feel like I'll never get caught up on what I've missed."

"Are you..." he coughed and scratched the back of his neck—so like John, "are you doing okay? I know this has to be awful for you. To lose your little kids and husband. To suddenly find yourself with two mostly grown sons who are hunters at the center of every apocalypse that decides to start. That's gotta be hard."

She shook her head again, but this time it was an attempt to stave off the crushing grief that bloomed in her chest. Tears blinded her, so she jumped when she felt strong arms wrap her into an embrace. For a minute, she let herself cry quietly and acknowledge that she would never see her baby and little boy again.

"Don't worry, Mom. It'll be okay. We'll look after you."

Mary heard her little boy speaking to her, and just like that breathing became easier. It didn't change what she'd lost, but she remembered dying. Remembered the despair of not knowing if her family would survive the fire, let alone the demon. Remembered wishing there was something she could do to keep everyone safe. Saw her blood drip onto her baby's face...

That memory made this second chance real. It allowed her to recognize how much she had gained by having the opportunity to return to her children's lives. She smiled at her son's words, wondering if he recalled saying something similar to her as a little boy. "That's still my job."

Dean grunted and tightened his hold, "Well, how about we just look after each other and call it a draw."

"Sounds good. Sounds like something families do."

Castiel was confused. "Why are we putting food in a basket to carry outside when we have a kitchen and table right here?"

"Because this is a picnic basket. Made for picnics. A meal traditionally eaten outside over a blanket on the ground. In sunlight and fresh air." Gabriel rambled as he continued transferring food from the enhanced refrigerator to the never-ending space inside a custom-made basket, "It's a thing humans do to relax with other people. There were whole cultures and traditions surrounding the art of the picnic," he laughed, "The pagans were, of course, my favorite. Live music and rampant nudity. And this whole wooded area is wasted on these boys. I doubt they've spent any time at all outside of this bunker except to get from the door to the car or vice versa."

"Sam usually goes for runs in the mornings. He says the air tastes better at dawn and he likes the quiet." Castiel didn't understand how air could taste better at different times, but he identified with the need for peaceful silence.

"Does he?" Gabriel sounded surprised, "Well maybe this won't be such a culture shock for the kid after all. I'm sure Mary will be fine. I think picnics are part of maternal instincts—unless it's a learned behavior for any parent cooped up with a small child in an enclosed space too long. You and Dean are the two who will probably stand around like a couple of space aliens trying to figure out why we're roasting white puffy sacrifices on sticks over the fire."

Castiel stared at his brother in mild horror at the casual mention that picnics involve sacrifice. "Gabriel, none of the Winchesters will participate in burning sacrifices no matter how relaxing the experience." He could only watch Gabriel laid his head on his arms against the counter and laughed uncontrollably.

"Cas, did you break the archangel?" Dean's voice cut through the echoing cackle.

"This was not my idea, Dean," Castiel turned to his friend, suddenly worried that he'd misplaced his trust in Gabriel, "I did not know what a picnic involved!"

Dean stared at him in bewilderment, "What the hell are you talking about, Cas?"

"Don't worry, I will not allow him to perform any sacrifices."

"Whoa! Okay, Gabriel, what the hell is he talking about?" Dean stalked over to the shorter being and pulled him up by the jacket collar.

It took several tries before the archangel could speak, "Y-you know, Dean! The little white puffy round things you pierce with a stick and roast over a fire, usually while sitting in a circle at night."

Dean did his best impersonation of Sam's bitch-face. "You mean marshmallows?" he smacked Gabriel upside the head, "Quit scaring Cas! He'll never try new things if you freak him out too much." He went over to a pantry shelf and grabbed a bag that had one side rolled down and sealed with a clip. Tossing it to the confused angel, Dean explained, "Here. These are marshmallows. You put them on a stick, and when you cook them in fire they melt and puff up."

Castiel studied the bag. It weighed almost nothing, and the round white things were soft when he squeezed them. He ignored Gabriel's renewed laughter by keeping his attention on Dean. "You use them to make nachos?"

"Ha! Not unless you're my weirdo brother," Dean clapped him on the shoulder and strolled to the coffee pot to get a fresh cup.

"I'm not a weirdo," Sam said from the doorway in a soft brown sweater and a knit cap that pushed his curls down to frame his face. Mary stepped around him to join Dean by the coffee. "What is going on in here? Gabriel sounds like a dying hyena. You can hear him throughout the bunker."

"Nothing," Dean answered him with a smirk, "Gabe just convinced Cas that roasting marshmallows was a sacrifice performed at picnics. Cas tried to save our honor."

Castiel watched Sam's expression waver between pity and humor, and the sight of the boy fighting to not laugh at him made the angel appreciate the joke a little more. "What honor?" Sam asked.

"I didn't even get to the other ingredients used in the ritual!" Gabriel chimed back in, "You know, the dark substance first utilized by the Aztecs that liquefies when placed between the sacrifice and a the delicate baked square."

Sam rolled his eyes, "That is the least appetizing description on how to make s'mores I've ever heard."

"Yeah, but his face..." Gabriel wiped away tears, "It was worth it."

"So, what's the plan for today?" Mary asked, leaning against the counter and blowing on her coffee.

"Well, I need to start working with Sam on his grace-control. It will be easier to do outside, so I figured we'd all make a day of it and enjoy the sunshine before winter." Gabriel took the half-filled bag from Castiel and placed it in the basket.

The angels had discussed how to approach the lessons, and agreed that an open space with Sam's other family members present would be the best environment. While the others sorted clothing, they spent time setting up the space outside the bunker with lounge chairs, hammocks, an over-sized picnic table, and a stone-lined fire pit. Gabriel wanted to add a whole indoor heated pool onto the side of the bunker, but Castiel had insisted his brother discuss it with the Winchesters first.

As Gabriel finalized the food packing, Castiel kept an eye on Sam. The boy looked nervous at the prospect of lessons, but not panicked. Hazel eyes met his, and he saw the brave mask cover the anxiety, "Should I get a notebook or anything?"

Castiel glanced at Gabriel for the answer. "No, no notebooks. This will be all practice and no studying," the archangel told them as he hoisted the basket and turned to them, "Everyone ready? Good, let's go."

Sam followed the others out of the bunker and around to the back part away where they couldn't be seen from the road. It was a familiar route that he usually took on his morning runs. He kicked through the leaves as he walked and wondered how long it would be before he'd be able to go running again.

So far, he hadn't had a chance to really explore this new body's limits. He knew his strength was completely gone, but he wasn't sure about his endurance. Young kids were known for their abundance of energy. Maybe his stamina would make up for the lack of muscle until he got this body trained.

He was pulled from his musings when everyone stopped in front of him. Unable to see around the wall of legs, Sam moved to the side and stared at the new additions. The sky blue cushions of the lounge chairs reflected brightly in the sun, and it took him a second to see everything else. The fire pit was perfect and something he'd always secretly wanted.

Gabriel broke off from the group and set the large basket on the wooden picnic table. With a snap, a pile of brightly colored items appeared beside it. Squinting, Sam could make out sports gear and frisbees and Nerf guns.

Dean gave a low whistle, "Dude, someone has watched way too many kids' movies on Netflix." They never had these types of things growing up. Occasionally, they'd find a stray tennis ball or frisbee left behind in a park or motel playground and they'd pack it with them until it got lost or broken.

"It's not like I snapped up a toy store, Deano. This is a normal amount of stuff most families have on hand for get-togethers." Gabriel gave him a knowing look that told Sam the archangel was probably aware the brothers had grown up playing with guns and knives more than toys. He watched Gabriel grab up an orange frisbee and spun it toward them, "Go long, Cassie!"

The younger angel stood still and passively watched the disc soar past. He turned and looked at Sam in confusion, "What was I supposed to do with it?"

"Catch it," Sam said smiling as he went to retrieve it. The toy was heavy in his hand, and it took some adjusting to get a proper hold on it. Turning, he tried to throw it back but it curved mid-air and landed in the fire pit. "Oops," he winced, glad there was no fire.

"That's why we can't have nice things, Sam," Dean said in a low voice as he picked through the gear. He chose a fuzzy yellow tennis ball and tossed it underhand to Sam. "Try this one."

Sam caught it easily. It fit in his hands much better and the lighter weight made it easier to throw when he lugged it back to his brother. Not expecting it, the ball smacked Dean in the side of the head and bounced back onto the table. Dean jumped and tried to swat away the unexpected attack and Sam hooted with laughter, "That's payback for all the socks you pelted me with this morning, jerk!"

He only had a second to revel, however, as Dean turned with a look of revenge on his face. Sam gulped and backed away. His brother grinned wickedly at the reaction, "Well, I guess you've got one thing in common with payback."

"Uh huh?" Sam hummed warily.

"You're both bitches," Dean said. And then it was on.

Sam sprinted past Gabriel and rounded the fire pit. He saw Dean racing after him with a Nerf gun in hand. He glanced toward the trees and saw one with lower hanging branches. Knowing his brother would make him suffer some form of humiliation if he caught him, Sam grabbed hold of the closest branch and jumped.

The world shifted around him, and he had to blink a couple times to realize he was seeing a wide expanse of sky and tree tops. Gasping, he clung to the trunk and glanced down to the ground far below. A rustle of wings sounded next to him and he managed to turn his head enough to see Gabriel perched on a branch next to him. "What'cha doing up here, Sammy? Not that the view isn't fantastic, but I'm pretty sure you just gave everyone a heart attack." The archangel had his wings fully extended and his arms already wrapped tightly around Sam's middle.

Sam felt his body start to shake with delayed adrenaline and he shook his head, "I d-don't know," his spoke through chattering teeth.

Gabriel smiled, "I forgot how easy it was for you little guys to accidentally fling yourselves into hard-to-reach places. Let's get you back on the ground, okay?" His arms tightened and Sam felt his feet suddenly touch solid ground.

"What the hell, Sam!" Dean ran up, breathless with anxiety.

"I don't know," he repeated as his mother and Castiel rushed over as well.

"Nothing to worry about, folks," Gabriel reassured them, and Sam was grateful for the hands that kept him steady, "It's perfectly normal—kids slip past the baby gate all the time."

"Yeah, except he didn't fall down some stairs. He flew up a tree!" Dean exclaimed, "Do we need to put a kid harness on him or something? What if he fell from five stories up?"

"You are not putting a leash on me!" Sam yelled, and Gabriel's hands squeezed his shoulder.

"Relax, kiddo, you don't need anything so dramatic. It's why we're going to teach you control—so this kind of thing doesn't happen. Or happens less often, anyway," he explained calmly. Sam felt the shaking increase, and there was a flare of heat that prickled along his skin. "Okay, I was going to have you run around and work off some of that energy, but I don't think it'll help now that you're so wound up. Come on, let's settle down."

Gabriel steered Sam toward the fire pit. Thick knit blankets and pillows sat in a neatly folded stack on the ground. With a snap, they were spread out in a comfortable pile. Sam felt himself be maneuvered into the center and pushed to sit on a pillow. Gabriel plopped down next to him and waved Castiel over to join them. The angel shed his trench coat, folding it carefully to place on the blanket, and sat cross-legged on a third pillow.

"Is he okay?" Mary asked quietly, unsure what the angels were preparing to do.

"Oh, yeah," Gabriel grinned as he stretched his arms and grace, cracking knuckles in the process, "Sammy boy is just a bit more super-powered than I'd anticipated. His grace is already over-charged again since I drained it last night. So we are going to do some maintenance—the angelic equivalent to hair brushing, really. There are beers and snacks in the basket if you guys want anything."

Dean studied them for a second, evaluating the risks of leaving them for the beer calling his name. "We'll stick close by in case you need us during your hair braiding, or whatever..." he said directly to his brother, "And stay on the damn ground!"

Sam nodded as the shakes tapered off leaving him tired. He watched Dean walk away with a worried looking Mary. They each got a beer and made their way to the lounge chairs, talking too low for Sam to make out words. The heat ran under his skin like sandpaper and static, and he wrapped his arms around his chest in an attempt to keep it from spreading. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel shift to face him.

"You are alright, Samuel. Take some deep breaths and relax everything. I am going to explain how angels help each other maintain their grace, and then we will show you. Think of a self-generating pool. Sometimes the flow gets jammed up or the pH falls out of balance and it needs adjusting. And in your case, the generator is a little enthusiastic and flooding everything out. Now," Gabriel held up his hands, palms facing out toward Sam, "I am the metaphoric pool boy with a net who can also balance the chemical levels and siphon off the over-flow. Would you like me to show you how on Castiel?"

The modern-day concepts described in the ancient tongue of angels took a second to translate in Sam's brain. He looked to his friend sitting in front of him. The angel was staring at Gabriel, completely fascinated by his words, and seemed startled to find their attention shift his way. Castiel nodded his willingness to Sam and held his arm out to Gabriel.

The archangel ran two fingers above Castiel's wrist to his shoulder without touching the skin or fabric. Soft gold light flowed in his fingers' wake and danced across the limb. Castiel gave a small gasp and Sam saw the tension melt from the arm. It started to fall but Gabriel caught his wrist with a laugh, "Oh, Castiel, imagine how mellowed out Heaven will be when everyone is forced to take a spa day."

Castiel grinned, a little dopey. "In fairness, the healers I saw were not archangels. You may have gone overboard with your 'chemical adjustments.'" He did the finger-quotes with the hand not being supported by his brother.

Gabriel frowned at the arm he held, "No, this is where you should be. I think you have been unconsciously keeping your levels low because you learned to function with them there. I only did one sweep on one arm, you light weight." Castiel giggled and Gabriel covered the seraph's mouth while glancing over toward Mary and Dean. "Cassie, you should not be buzzed out on grace!" he whispered, "You are being a terrible role model for a fledgling who's never been groomed."

Castiel nodded somberly and Sam felt his muscles loosen at the angels' playful interaction. Gabriel removed his hands and turned back to Sam. "Alright, let me look at you," his whiskey eyes flared gold, "Your grace is overflowing because it expects to be in constant use. Like if your body was breathing but instead of using the oxygen it just kept storing it. Now, do you trust me to help you?"

Fear flared at the thought of an archangel touching him with grace. The wings were one thing—they manifested as a physical extension he could touch like a moving stream. Draining his grace the night before had been different too. Sam had lost control, burning from the inside. He'd expected Gabriel to plunge his hand through his chest like all the others, but instead had drawn the fire out like poison from a wound. But to willingly submit to such an invasion?

"Samuel," Castiel's voice was sober and soothing, "what Gabriel said is an accurate description for the mechanics of grace work, but not the experience. The sensation is not that of a net dragging through water, but of a brush gliding through hair. The hair itself is not punctured—merely sorted into place. It is similar to reiki energy work. It tingles in a pleasant way, and you may feel a tugging if there is a tangle or blockage in the flow."

The heat was building again, and Castiel's words sounded so tempting. Sam stared at both angels, hoping any deception would show now before he caved. There was only honest sincerity reflected in pools of blue and gold. "I ask, you stop?"

They nodded in tandem, and Gabriel answered, "I will absolutely stop. I will not let you hurt yourself or others if you start to go nuclear, but if you are still capable of talking then I will listen. In fact, I will talk to you the whole time so you know what I am doing and so I know you are alright."

"You try, first?" Sam held his arm up like Castiel.

"Sure, kiddo," Gabriel smiled in gratitude that grew when his brother reached out and placed his palm under Sam's out-stretched hand, ready to offer support and connection. "Okay. Just this arm, and I'll be super light." He held two fingers out over the small wrist

Gold shimmered along Sam's arm, and he instinctively jerked back. Castiel and Gabriel's hands followed his movements but never tried to stop him. He paused when the fire building under his skin was doused by the glow of Gabriel's grace. The relief was enough to make him push his arm back toward the archangel and allow him to continue. The fingers slowly moved along his arm and stopped at his shoulder.

Castiel was right—it did tingle in a nice way, and left behind a warmth that was comforting instead of consuming. His arm felt weightless and it dipped to rest in Castiel's hand. The glow dissipated almost immediately, but the sensation remained. Gabriel was watching him with an expression somewhere between eager and anxious when Sam looked up.

"Again?" Gabriel asked and Sam nodded. The brush of grace was repeated on the other arm and his eyes grew heavy. Castiel's hold on his wrists was the only thing keeping him upright until Gabriel put an arm around his back. "Let's get some pillows behind you and you can just lean back. There we go, that's better, right?" Sam felt himself sink into a plush bedding and he stared with half-closed eyes at the sky. Colors twinkled in the clouds as sunlight refracted through water and he was lost in the details. He heard a voice talking to him but didn't look away from the clouds. "Sam, you still with us? I need you to answer me before I keep going."

"Here," he whispered a little breathlessly. His focus was intense, and the lack of discomfort made him feel a little paranoid.

"Okay, I'm gonna dial it back more, but we're not done yet. Are you good?" Gabriel asked.

"Keep going, but slow," Sam managed with a little more voice. He heard the angels shift around and when Gabriel spoke again, he was directly above his head.

"I am going to place my fingers on your temples so you know where I am. Castiel is still sitting by your feet. I will direct my grace from here and you tell me if I need to stop." Fingertips rested on his head and Sam tried not to flinch. Gabriel must have felt the muscles tense because he stilled his movements without breaking the connection. "It's just me, Samuel, and I promise not to touch your mind. You focus on the sky and I am going to brush my grace from your head to your toes. It should feel like the sun cascading over you..."

Sam let the words drift over him as he floated on a sea of safety and contentment. This was almost identical to how it had been with Chuck, minus the life-threatening gunshot wound and crushing despair at losing Dean. Now, he could revel in the peace. The tingling in his arms spread through his whole body and he wondered if this is how animals felt being petted. Sam felt his own grace respond to Gabriel's gentle sweeps, reaching for the gold light from within. The archangel chuckled lightly as he continued his ministrations and steady stream of words.

After spending a few days confined and condensed in his new tiny body, Sam was unprepared for the sudden expansion of consciousness. Something inside shifted into place and he merged with his grace. It was like becoming consciously linked with your blood, and then realizing your blood was connected to the universe, and now you feel the universe like it's your own leg. The angels could describe themselves as multi-dimensional beings of celestial intent the size of skyscrapers all day, but the words had been meaningless.

Now, Sam felt larger in a way that went far beyond the physical parameters. He was burrowing below the soil with rodents and worms, in the sky with the clouds of color, in the next town over, in churches and streams and mountains. He stared around, images flickering in layers on top of each other like his vision was constantly changing filters. Only those filters allowed him to see into windows through time, and places, and dimensions.

Sam gasped when he saw Gabriel. The being hovering massively over him made him feel small again.

It truly was like laying at the feet of someone larger than the Statue of Liberty. His eyes traced the way the archangel's true-form folded into his vessel before returning to the faces. So many faces kept shifting—human, animal, and some for which Sam had no name. It would have been terrifying if not for the pure joy and instinctive recognition he felt at the sight of each one.

Laughter rumbled down over Sam's body, the noise like the resonating vibration of tribal drums. "Castiel, look. His eyes are open! He sees me! Hello, little one. Welcome to the world," Gabriel spoke but there was very little of his vessel's voice in the sound. The fingers on Sam's temples moved to pull his hat off and run through his hair. It pulled Sam's awareness back to his body, grounding him, but it didn't diminish his senses.

Slowly, Sam tried to sit up. His limbs wouldn't cooperate and he huffed out a frustrated sigh. The hands on his hair slid down behind his shoulders and lifted him to sitting. He expected to be dizzy from the change in position, but once he was upright his body immediately adjusted. There was no fear of falling back again, but he felt one hand stay against his back.

Castiel filled his vision and he saw the angel lean forward, a being of grace as blue and varied as the ocean. "Hello, Samuel," his voice like rolling thunder that Sam felt in his chest, "How are you doing? Can you distinguish what you are seeing? Do you recognize us?"

"Good grief, Cassie. Give the boy a second before you quiz him!" Gabriel admonished.

But Sam was already nodding, "Yes. Know you Castiel," he hesitantly raised a hand toward his friend, but stopped when he lost track of Castiel's vessel and only saw his true-form. Not wanting to accidentally grope the angel in an inappropriate place, he just kept his hand out waiting for the vessel to come back into focus.

Blue-black feathers landed in his hand and Sam laughed at how familiar they felt even with his new senses. They still embodied warm summer rain but now he could see the grace that formed the wings. There was no shyness in Sam's movements as he ran his fingers through the feathers. He saw a few out that seemed out of place, so he turned them the right way and smoothed them down.

"Oh, look at you grooming Castiel without even being taught! See, that's all I'm doing. Just going over the areas that need some adjustments." Gabriel's fingers traced patterns on Sam's back and the tingling shot up his spine, giving him a chill that shuddered through him. The hand flattened against the knit sweater and soothed the charged feeling away. "Yeah, that was a big one. Sorry if it pulled. I tried to go slow."

"Is fine. No worries," Sam said with a smile over his shoulder.

"'No worries.' That is exactly what I wanted to hear." Soft laughter followed his words like a small reverberation of his previous drums. "Alright, Samuel. I think that is enough for now. We will need to do this every day to train and maintain your grace as you grow. But right now, your brother is walking toward us and he looks concerned."

"We look not sober," Sam offered as his eyesight mostly returned to normal human levels and he realized Dean had probably seen him pawing at the air in front of Castiel's face. The rest of his senses slowly lost their extreme sensitivity, but there was still an echo along those new connections. Castiel and Gabriel now held a shimmer of their respective graces' colors.

Footsteps approaching made Sam turn and see Dean. The concern was obvious on his face, but so was the amusement to anyone who knew how to read the hunter. "So, not to be judgmental," Dean said as he came to a stop at the edge of the blanket and stared down at them, "but Mom and I were wondering if you all dropped acid. Because for over an hour, you three have sat here giggling and chasing lights or something. And for a 'hair-brushing' session, I gotta say Sam's hair is a disaster."

"An hour?!" Sam exclaimed looking to Castiel for confirmation. The angel nodded and reached out to try and straighten Sam's curls where they went in disarray.

Gabriel stood and clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Why acid when I put mushrooms in a third of the dishes at breakfast!?"

Dean scowled and turned to Sam, "Is that why you're always eating veggies? Because they're drugs?"

"Mushrooms aren't vegetables," Sam and Castiel said in unison.

"Thanks, wonder twins. It's so reassuring to hear you call out the vegetable mix-up and ignore the fact that you're all acting high as kites."

"Sam did get stuck in a tree," Castiel added, "Kites do that too, don't..."

"Not helping, Cas!" Sam reached up and tugged on the wing still in front of him. Castiel nearly toppled over from the unexpected pull and he caught himself with his hands.

"What are you two even doing?" Dean asked, then shook his head and put up a hand to stop anyone from answering, "No, never mind. Today is the day I just don't want to know. I'm getting another beer. Try to act like you're not tripping balls by the time mom sees you up close. Okay? Okay, good talk."

Sam watched his brother walk away until his hat was shoved over his head and cut off his sight. "He's right," Gabriel's voice was slightly muffled by the fabric, "We really did mess up your hair."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
"Minor Edits" turned into 3-4 extra pages...oops?
Thanks for all the lovely comments and encouraging words.
May we all be kind and loving with each other...

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