He did manage to doze, but every slight noise roused him.
Not long after he'd returned to the room, the nurse he'd spoken to at the station slipped inside with two breakfast trays obviously meant for patients. He acted polite and courteous, and Gabriel figured he probably wanted to make up for being such an ass earlier.
Sati woke up, oblivious to all but the food in front of her. She seemed satisfied with Gabriel's quick explanation of Sam in surgery, and even knowing how big of a deal it could be, she didn't get overly frustrated like Gabriel had. She remembered what Gabriel had trouble holding onto: it's why they came here.
Gabriel picked at his own food, unable to stomach much. After Sati had finished eating and fallen back asleep, he shut his eyes and tried to rest again. He tried. In the end, he settled for sitting quietly with his eyes closed, trying to keep from imagining all the worst scenarios. After all, Sam had serious, life-threatening injuries. The magnitude of his condition had kept him confined to a bed for almost four months. And in that time, he'd only healed somewhat, and only because of angelic power driving it. And Sam had even died once. Pseudo-died.
Though he doubted it felt like a pseudo-death to Sam. The archangel had been clear; the experience of dying terrified him. And Gabriel couldn't imagine the horror he must have experienced every single time he went through it. What would it do to someone to become so ill they went through a terrifying cycle of pseudo-death and resurrection, all with the knowledge that each time might be the last time?
But it gave Sam a grim sort of hope; a safety blanket of sorts. And since Gabriel had drained the Grace right out of Sam, he'd had that guarantee removed. Cut away. Only the tiniest sliver of his own Grace remained inside him, and it wouldn't protect him this time.
Gabriel hoped Sam hadn't misplaced his trust in him.
He could only wait. And wait. How long did surgery take, anyway? For a broken leg and a broken forearm? And yet, Gabriel had been there from the beginning, and knew exactly how badly the fall into their world had injured him. The first time he'd tried to assess Sam's forearm, it had felt crumbly, like dust. Broken in so many places. And his leg had worried him most of all.
After several minutes of trying to reason with himself to just rest already, he heard the door creak. He cracked open an eye to see a woman standing just inside, in surgical scrubs and a bloody apron. She didn't appear the least bit gloomy, and Gabriel's heart leapt.
"Hi," she greeted, taking a few steps closer. "I'm Doctor Amelia Richardson."
"The surgeon," Gabriel said, hopeful.
She nodded. "I operated on your cousin."
Gabriel set Sati down in the seat, tucking the blanket around her and approaching, his voice low. "Is he... Is Sam okay?"
"Just fine," she said, smiling. "Tough cousin you've got there. The chart says he fell off the roof of a barn?"
He nodded, his limbs numb, his stomach done up in knots.
"Must have been a tall barn. Can't believe it didn't kill him," she breathed, shaking her head. "So, we've set the bones in his leg and gave him a sturdy splint. When the wound closes up he needs a solid cast. "The doctor who did the cast on his forearm did well, so when you take him home, I'd see them again."
Gabriel thought about telling her he'd made the last cast, but thought better of it. Not the point right now.
"I've prescribed high doses of antibiotics for the next few days, but I think unless someone gets careless, the threat of septic infection has passed. He's going to feel out of it until we discharge him, but so far as his bones go, he'll recover."
Gabriel exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd held.
"There is, however, another problem."
His eyes fluttered shut, and he wanted to curse the universe. Of fucking course. Nothing could ever go smoothly, could it?
But his irritation grew into fear, stone-heavy and cold in his gut. What if they'd discovered Sam's angelic origin?
"His lungs worry me," she said. "I had a CT scan done, and he's got all the classic signs of early silicosis. Silica grains have embedded in the filia of his lungs, and the body has responded. His lungs are inflamed. It's why his voice has become so raspy and thin."
Gabriel grimaced. That wasn't good. Not at all. They had no cure for silicosis, for dust pneumonia. Everyone knew that.
"He's breathing oxygen right now," she said. "We're going to keep it on him while he's here. I recommend he stay on it, and if you can get your hands on it, something to improve his inflammation."
He considered her words carefully. "How bad is it? He hasn't been coughing for long..."
She sighed. "You know how dust pneumonia works by now, right?"
Gabriel frowned. "Just... how bad?"
She crossed her arms, her eyes downcast, and shook her head. "If he has an oxygen mask and proper medication, I think his lungs might have a few more years."
The lines of his face twisted, and he had to remind himself they'd have Sam's Grace back back inside him within days, and all this wouldn't give him trouble anymore. He'd figure out a way to fix his Grace, and he'd stay impervious to all of this.
"He's in post-op now," she told him. "Do you want to go see him?"
Gabriel's wanted to shout 'yes', but he glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping daughter, and….
"The nurse will keep an eye on her," the surgeon said. "She'll be okay."
Gabriel frowned, but relented. The nurse had been sticking his head in quite often.
He followed her down the hallways, considering Sam's condition on the way. The worst of it had passed, he told himself. The chance of the angel meeting a horrible end from infection had gone, so long as they kept him medicated. Gabriel tried hard not to think of things like antibiotic-resistant infections, or, just as bad, the encroaching suffocation of dust pneumonia.
It seemed like a maze, like every other hospital he'd ever been inside. And when they finally arrived, Gabriel knew he'd have to ask for directions to get back. But when he saw Sam, all thoughts of returning evaporated away.
He seemed asleep, or nearly so, his eyes shut. His head moved, just slightly, and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. Gabriel approached him, flustered and careful, unsure of what to do. And for a long time, he didn't have to do anything, because Sam didn't awaken. He sank into a chair beside Sam's bed.
But slowly, the angel became aware of the world again. A groan from his parted lips alerted Gabriel, and he leapt to his feet. Sam's brow furrowed, his eyes screwed shut in pain, and he reached up with his good arm, tugging at the oxygen mask.
Gabriel pulled at his wrist, gentle and careful. "No, Sam," he breathed, his other hand resting on the angel's shoulder. "You can't do that. You need it to breathe."
Sam muttered something wholly unintelligible, but he stopped trying to rip the mask away. Gabriel laid his arm back down on the bed, tucking the blanket around him.
The staff had kept the recovery room exceptionally clean. They'd cleaned Sam to a level Gabriel had never seen him. They'd gathered his long hair in a surgical cap, and scrubbed all the dust from his skin. He smelled like antiseptic. They'd done much better than anything Gabriel had managed so far.
Sam gargled again, and Gabriel wondered if he might be trying to talk, or just trying to breathe. But maybe the drugs drowned his senses so much that speaking had become impossible.
"Don't try to talk," he told him, just in case. He hesitated, then touched his forehead, flattening his palm there. His thumb stroked a strand of hair which had fallen out of his cap. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here. Sati is down the hall. You're okay, Sam."
Sam stilled under his touch, so long as Gabriel kept whispering to him.
Sam's recovery would take a while, but he would not spend this time in the hospital.
They'd been clear about their need for space from the beginning. As soon as they knew for certain Sam would escape septic infection, they'd write out a prescription for Gabriel to fill at the hospital pharmacy and kick them out. And Gabriel understood, he really did.
But still. It had been nearly a day, and Sam had not woken up, and his breathing had become worse than ever. The hospital wouldn't touch dust pneumonia. No point in wasting their resources on something incurable, right? It made Gabriel bitter to think about it.
But he had to admit, the drugs they did had him dosed up on were impressive. A human Sam's size would be hard to drug into unconsciousness, but add in the angelic component, and...
But without most of his Grace, wasn't he just as easy to subdue and as vulnerable as a human? But he didn't like to think about Sam as vulnerable or weak. It didn't seem fitting.
When Sam woke up, really woke up, for the first time, Gabriel had realized he had his hands full with a panicked archangel.
"Calm down," he told Sam. "You're okay. I know you feel heavy and weird, but it's the medicine. You're fine."
His breathing continued to worsen, and he stared up at Gabriel, eyes misty and bloodshot.
"Take it easy," Gabriel repeated, and placed his hand on Sam's chest. "You're drugged. It's hard to think. It's hard to breathe. It's hard to move. Don't panic, Sam. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."
He tried to talk, but Gabriel shook his head, placing his fingers lightly over the mask.
"Don't," he cautioned. "Try not to speak."
Without thinking, his hand reached for Sam, palm flattening on his forehead, bushing loose hair from his face. Sam's eyes fluttered shut, and tears squeezed out from behind the closed lids. But he seemed to still, just a little.
Gabriel reached for a cloth, wiping at his face. "It's okay," he breathed. "You're okay. You did great in surgery, kiddo. Those bones of yours are going to heal up just fine."
Sam's eyes slowly opened, and he met Gabriel's gaze. God. It looked like he wanted to talk, so much.
"Shh," he preemptively shushed him. "Just relax. We're here. Sati's asleep over there. You did good. You're fine. Just try and sleep as much as you can, okay?"
Sam made a noise, half-anguished and choked with the heaving of his breath. More tears snaked down his face.
"Are you in pain?" Gabriel asked him.
Sam shook his head, and another sound, dangerously like a whine, sounded in his throat.
"Breathing okay? Okay enough?"
Sam nodded. More tears.
Gabriel wiped at them, careful not to chap the skin of his cheeks. He searched his mind, trying to figure out what might have Sam so upset. But maybe it all distressed him. Maybe being without his Grace, painful and poisonous as it had become, frightened him.
"Feeling overwhelmed?" he asked. "Without... you know."
Sam looked like he might sob, and nodded. Gabriel's chest lurched at the sight, and he found himself stroking Sam's hair. The angel shut his eyes, exhaling as he did so, as though the gesture gave him some relief.
"Hey," Gabriel told him. "You're not going to die. You're doing great. You're past the risk of infection unless you manage to re-break your leg somehow... and we're not going to let that happen, are we?"
Sam didn't seem so certain, but he shook his head. More tears snaked from his eyes, and Gabriel carefully wiped at those, too. Gabriel's hand lowered to Sam's cheek, because hell, the angel needed some comfort right now, and he was too selfish not to give it.
"I promise you," Gabriel murmured, voice soft, "I will watch over you until you're a big strong angel again, okay? I won't let anything happen to you. You're going to stay with us, and eat Cas' food, and listen to Sati's stories, and I'll bother you with my science experiments, okay? Equal opportunity bothering all around."
Sam's eyes slid shut, and a smile began to warm his lips, pained, but real. Gabriel stroked the swell of a cheekbone with his thumb.
"Now tell me the truth," he said. "You're not pain-free, are you?"
Sam's eyes opened, slow and drowsy, but he didn't respond.
"Come on, Sam," Gabriel told him. "You'll be safe. I'll stay here with you while you sleep."
After several moments of hesitation, the angel finally shook his head.
Gabriel patted his cheek. "I'll get the nurse."
Sam made a noise of protest, his working hand reaching for Gabriel. It missed, but he managed to weakly grasp the hem of his shirt.
"I'll come right back, I promise," he told him. "And I'll sit right here with you until you're asleep."
Reluctantly, slowly, his fingers released Gabriel's shirt.
Sam's agony seemed to morph into something even more horrible, as though despair had swallowed him whole. Gabriel didn't know what to make of it, and had no idea how, or even if, he could help.
It wasn't that Gabriel didn't understand it. Sam dealt with a rotten situation, after all. It was a strange universe Sam had fallen into, and a doomed one. He'd been ill for months, lost literal limbs, and he now had no hope of escaping to better circumstances. And Sam had been sick because of his Grace for a long while, with all the traveling he did. But for a far longer period of time—most of his life, Gabriel remembered—he'd been a powerful archangel. One of the most fearsome things in his own universe.
And now he'd become powerless, wracked with pain, and dependant upon mere mortals for help.
As Gabriel kept a vigil by his bedside, leaving only when Sati needed food, he tried to ponder the archangel's predicament as best as he could. But try as he might, he couldn't draw any sort of parallel. Gabriel had never held an angel's power, and so he didn't know how it might feel to have the power to affect life and death on such a scale.
Sam had periods of wakefulness, drowsy as he was under the influence of the powerful medicines he took. He spoke little, but he had no more outbursts of tears as he'd had before. His mood seemed to lift only when Sati crawled into the bed with him, talking about stories and school projects and holidays in his ear.
Of course she would remember the holidays. Only a few weeks remained until Thanksgiving, and another month until Christmas. Magical times all around for a little kid.
Once while she slept, Sam's eyes stared through the ceiling as though he could see the sky. Those sorts of lifeless stares alarmed Gabriel, because he'd seen more than one person in the leadup to death hallucinating any and all things, including angels and Heaven.
"Sam?" he breathed, voice soft. When the angel didn't respond, Gabriel scooted closer, his hand clamping on his shoulder, shaking gently. "Samael!"
He blinked, long and slow, and turned his gaze upon Gabriel, but said nothing.
"You all right there, kiddo? Come on, I need you to talk to me."
Sam exhaled, the most anguished noise Gabriel had heard pass his lips yet. His eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, Gabriel thought he would ignore him again.
"Forgive me," he finally answered. "I find I am experiencing difficulty in expressing myself adequately."
Gabriel squeezed his shoulder, gentle but firm. "I just need to know you're not dying on us, kiddo. You don't have to recite the Bhagavad Gita."
"I could, once," he said, his eyelids twitching. "It seems so long ago, but once I could. I knew it all, word for word. I knew each word of every book ever written. No longer. I am forgetting many things I've always known" His eyes opened, and they held so much exhaustion it made Gabriel ache to see them. "I would be grateful for something to focus my mind upon, but I cannot remember any of it."
"Yeah, I can't recite it either," Gabriel answered, his great attempt at humor. "I read it once, a long time ago. Can't remember a thing." He shrugged. "Guess it makes us alike, eh?"
Sam's lips quirked, just the tiniest bit. He sighed, a rumble of his crackling lungs in the air. "I'm hardly a person," he breathed. "I'm hardly an angel. I am like both, and yet neither." His tired eyes met Gabriel's. "What does that make me?"
Gabriel squeezed his shoulder again. "It makes you Sam." He paused. "Samael." He sighed, forcing himself to retract his hand before he got too touchy-feely. "You don't have to try so hard to be a human or an angel. You're just you."
Sam stared up at him, clearly growing more tired by the moment. He said nothing, but the tired lines of his face relaxed in something akin to acknowledgement. Gabriel patted his arm.
"Just try to rest, kiddo," he said. "You don't have to solve these mysteries tonight."
His eyes darkened, but he nodded.
It took another two days for the hospital to discharge Sam. Gabriel felt kind of glad they didn't have to stay longer, yet irritated because it had absolutely not been long enough. Back in the day, Sam would probably have been discharged earlier, after some sort of arthroscopic surgery. The end of the world, however, really put a cork in the convenient stuff of the past.
It wasn't enough time because Sam's breathing kept getting worse, bad enough to frighten Gabriel. But the hospital wouldn't touch disorders of the lungs, because everyone had them and they just continued to get worse as the dust kept blowing.
Silicosis. Dust pneumonia. Two words for the same thing. And no cure.
He needed to get Sam out of town, and away from any prying eyes, and put his Grace back inside, and fast. Somewhere quiet and abandoned.
The angel didn't complain as Gabriel and two nurses helped maneuver him up and into the backseat of the truck. He didn't complain when Gabriel stopped off to bargain for medicine and supplies at a local market. He didn't say much about anything. He sat quietly in the backseat and endured it all.
Sati stayed with him, talking the whole time, and it probably helped. It wore on Gabriel's nerves, but it seemed to pleasantly distract Sam.
Gabriel hated stopping off at the local marketplace (the setup reminded him of an old fashioned flea market more than anything), but couldn't afford to miss the opportunity. Only a fool would come all the way to place like Saint Louis and not stock up while they had the chance. But while he needed more time to search for scraps and tools, he couldn't afford to gamble with Sam's health. So he found and bought essentials and medicines as fast as he could, and booked it back to the truck. When Sam got better, they'd come back.
When. Not if. Gabriel would ensure Sam got better.
Leaving Saint Louis, however, presented far more of a challenge than getting there.
The road he'd taken in had gotten blocked off from their side of town. Someone told him a crazy story about something god-awful happening a few miles down the way, so it meant he either had to take the truck off-road—usually a terrible idea, as he'd discovered once before—or find an entirely new path back to Kansas.
He'd had to rack his brain for possible routes, and in the end, gave up and took the old Interstate.
Just as Cas had predicted, the elements had left the road pock-marked and scarred, with some portions of the road washed away entirely. Gabriel wished fervently he'd had some other path available, because all the bumps and uneven surfaces didn't do any good for Sam's leg.
The angel sat in the backseat, quiet but growing increasingly distressed. He talked with Sati, and responded to Gabriel's attempts at conversation, but as time passed, he talked less and less. And they still weren't comfortably far enough away from Saint Louis for Gabriel to attempt anything to do with Grace.
But a new situation cropped up, and had Gabriel staring warily at the sky. There had, for a while, been a pleasant westward tailwind following them out of the city. But the pleasant wind kept picking up, and picking up, until gusts would shake the truck just so. And while Gabriel couldn't see over the mountains behind him, he knew in his bones a dust storm raged behind them. And with the wind blowing in their direction, it would catch up. Damn things popping up without any warning...
And worse, it was late, and their daylight faded by the minute. Gabriel had spent so much time navigating the damaged and broken road he'd not made much progress at all. Too far from home, and too far to return to Saint Louis. They'd have to burrow down and ride the storm out.
The sky hazed over ahead of him. With a frown, he knew his prediction had been correct: they had a storm catching up to them, and fast. He took the truck slowly off the battered interstate, navigating through sand and dirt to take them far off the roadway. He didn't want to risk some idiot yahoo following the road, only to strike them in the middle of the road.
He parked the truck and cut the exterior lights, throwing an apologetic glance back at Sam. But in the meantime, it gave him an opportunity to give the angel his medicine, and return his Grace.
A lot of rotten things could happen out here on the road. He'd managed to get them all the way to Saint Louis without incident, but it had been one hell of a drive… and not to mention the weather had cooperated. He'd known getting back home, even if he successfully drugged Sam up, would be hell. No one felt awesome after major surgery.
"Stay in the truck," he told Sati.
He scooted out the driver's side door and shut it behind him, moving to hop up onto the truck's bed. He double checked the straps on all their supplies, and pulled a tarp from the toolbox to cover everything, just for occasions like this.
He coughed in the thick air, wishing he'd put a mask on first. But he knew he didn't have much time. The sky had gone from mostly clear to hazy in mere minutes, so he had to hurry. Everything stayed in the bed of the truck, all except for water and medicine. He couldn't chance either one freezing, or their containers getting pelted to shreds.
He clambered back into the driver's seat, wiping at his stinging eyes. Aside from the wind and the sounds of dust pelting against the truck, the cabin remained eerily silent.
"Hey, no worries, gang," he told them, clearing his throat. "We've ridden out a ton of dust storms in this truck, haven't we?"
Sati grinned at him in the fading light, and nodded. She didn't seem worried.
"I haven't," Sam helpfully added.
"Well then, kiddo, you're about to get your first lesson," Gabriel replied, grinning the brightest fake grin he could muster. "It won't be the last dust storm we ride out in this tin can."
In the shadows, Gabriel had difficulty making out his expression. But Gabriel thought he spied something dark beneath the humor; something grim and frightened.
Well. Time to do something. With a jingling of keys, he unlocked the glove box, and pulled free the vial of Grace. As he unwrapped the glassware, light softly spilled into the cabin, swirling and beautiful inside its confinement. Under his microscope, when exposed to his equipment, Gabriel could see all the constituent pieces of Grace. Right now, though, it just appeared white, like glimmering smoke inside the tiny vial.
He crawled over the hump of the seat, careful not to fall or tip over. He didn't think Sam would much appreciate him falling on his broken leg.
"Ready?" he asked.
Sam nodded. "Indeed."
Gabriel cast a glance at Sati, who had pressed up against the back of the front seat. She laid her chin on the back of her hands, her eyes darting up at Gabriel, watching intently.
He sighed, and turned back to the bottle, uncorking it and moving to hold it close to Sam's mouth.
Nothing happened.
Gabriel blinked. He checked the bottle to make sure nothing blocked the flow of Grace, and held it up to Sam's mouth once more. And again, nothing happened.
Sam's brow furrowed in the dim light, his eyes trained upon the bottle. "I do not understand."
"Me neither," Gabriel answered, quickly corking the bottle. "I don't get it. It should have worked. It's your Grace, after all." He frowned, staring down at it. "Can't you command it?"
Sam seemed confused. "If it is not from this universe or my own, it does not listen to me."
Sam had told him this many times, and Gabriel had taken it into account during his many experiments. He'd stared at alien Grace for weeks now, trying to understand how it worked, how to separate one part from another. He'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to separate out Sam's native Grace and the energy which seeped in from their universe. Hopefully, one wouldn't hurt the other.
Gabriel's heart dropped.
"Oh my god," he breathed. "It's not going to go back in. It's all from other universes, and… and it's not like Grace here. None of it wants to go back in."
The angel's brow furrowed once more, but slow as syrup, faded into grim realization.
"But any angel can absorb Grace not their own," he argued.
"Yeah, but… oh Jesus Christ, I can't believe I didn't think of this." Gabriel paused, taking a moment to shut his eyes and tamp down on the panic he felt rising in his throat. "The Grace from other universes isn't like Grace here. It's more chaotic, and it doesn't move in an orderly fashion. And governed by the rules of this universe, it won't act like Grace now."
Sam frowned, staring down at the bottle. He didn't panic, not like Gabriel. He just seemed tired. Resigned.
"Put it away for safekeeping," he said, voice soft. "For when you succeed in your experiments, you can return the portion of Grace belonging to my universe."
He didn't know if Sam actually believed what he said. If he did, he gave Gabriel far too much credit, what with his dingy basement and old equipment and zero ideas.
Sam's hand closed over his own, and Gabriel realized he'd started to shake.
"You could not have known," Sam told him. "I would have died, even with my Grace within me, if you had not taken me to the hospital. And remember, I am not entirely without Grace. I yet have a tiny sliver of my own, and this universe's Grace will eventually gather around it to fortify me."
But Gabriel didn't hear his words. He heard the moistness in Sam's voice, and the choking rasp of his breath. In his head, he feared he'd killed Sam. Everything he'd tried to do to help the wayward archangel had ended here, with a careless mistake that would kill him. Sam wouldn't—couldn't—survive without it. Not long term. Not unless he gathered new Grace at lightning speed, and they already knew he couldn't.
Gabriel shut his eyes, steeling himself. He couldn't freak out, not with Sati there with them.
He turned his eyes on the bottle again. Think, he told himself. Think.
"I shall be fine," Sam told him.
Hah. So the victim thanked the guy who'd screwed him over?
He pocketed the bottle of Grace, his fingers closing instead around bottles of medicine. Until he figured out something better, he had to hope medicine could help. He had to.
In the darkness of the night, the storm only got worse. Gusts shook the truck. Gabriel hoped to god this storm passed by the morning.
The cabin had grown cold. Freezing, actually, but it was just the time of year for such frigid nights. He'd given his blanket to Sam, and held Sati in his arms in the front seat, wrapped tight in her own blanket.
And he listened, as the hours ticked on, as Sam's breathing grew worse. The storm didn't help matters. Gabriel had to do something, but what?
At one point, with a flashlight in his mouth, he'd fished out a needle and syringe full of dexamethasone. When he turned the light on Sam, he sat in the backseat, eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead.
"I… I am fine," he rasped.
"The hell you are," Gabriel answered, reaching up to tilt Sam's head.
He allowed Gabriel easy access, exposing his neck and pulse point to Gabriel. Carefully, expertly, he inserted the needle.
Sam winced, but mostly held still. "What are you giving me?" he rasped.
"Dexamethasone, or dex, for short," he said. "When people still went mountain climbing, they used it above a certain altitude to keep from getting cerebral edema. But it also has some use in treating symptoms of dust pneumonia."
He pulled the syringe free, capping it for its next use.
He could hear Sati stirring in the front seat, and he turned to see her eyes peeking over the edge of the seat.
"Are you cold?" she asked, her brown eyes settling on Sam.
He offered her a weak smile. "No. Do not worry. I merely have a fever. It will pass."
She frowned, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "I had the flu three times. It wasn't fun at all."
"I imagine not," Sam answered.
"Sati," Gabriel cautioned, his voice soft. "Let's not bother Sam."
Her eyes flitted up to him. "But if he's cold, then why don't we all get into the backseat and keep warm? We can share our blankets."
"Sam's leg, sweetheart," Gabriel told her. "We can't move him."
"We can sit in the floorboard. I'm small enough."
Gabriel didn't think he would fit, and... wait, why was he thinking of this at all? Of course they couldn't all crawl back there.
"I am agreeable," Sam hummed.
"It's all right, Sam," Gabriel told him. "Really."
"No," he argued. "I am sincere. If the both of you could rest comfortably in such a position, I would welcome the extra heat."
Oh, lord. Gabriel wasn't strong enough to say no to that.
He slid down into the hollow dip, pleased to find he could just fit. He motioned to Sati, who clambered over the front seat and settled in his lap, blanket and all.
He had to admit: it was warmer. Part of his torso pressed up against Sam's, while Sati brought her own heat—and blanket—to his aid. He'd been shivering up in the front seat, but this way, he might just get some rest.
Sam's warmth didn't hurt. Not at all. Gabriel tried to ignore how much he wanted to enjoy the it.
Sam sighed, one long arm wrapping around Gabriel's shoulders, his broad hand coming to rest just on Sati's shoulder. She hoisted the blanket up and around his hand, tucking the linen just underneath her chin.
"Everyone comfortable before I turn out the light?" he asked. "Otherwise, we'll accidentally poke each other in the dark."
"Yep!" Sati answered enthusiastically.
"I am comfortable," Sam answered, but cast a worrisome glance down at Gabriel. "But are you?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Good enough. Wouldn't mind having my own bed, but this is fine. I'll rest."
The angel didn't seemed convinced, and stared at him with some scrutiny, but eventually nodded. "Very well."
With a final glance towards a window, Gabriel switched the flashlight off, blanketing the three in utter darkness.
For a long time, only the wind and dust pelting the truck broke the silence. The storm became so loud he couldn't hear himself breathe, and wondered how they'd held a conversation only minutes ago.
The storm worried him for other reasons. Just days ago they'd had one hell of a storm over in Lebanon, and this storm front could possibly keep sweeping across the plains and hit it again. Sure, he'd seen dust storms in quick succession before... a few weeks apart.
It meant the blight had worsened. More grasses had died, weeds and plants of all sorts had succumbed, and so nothing could hold the soil still when the wind blew through.
He clutched Sati tighter in his arms, and she squirmed, resettling in his lap and resting her head on his shoulder, quickly falling back asleep. Sleeping away the storm, as she had so many others. Once upon a time, not too long ago, she'd been terrified of these storms. What had changed?
He let his head rest back against the wall of the truck's cabin, his eyes wide open in the darkness. So many things to worry about. He had to keep working, to try and solve some of these problems. Maybe he couldn't fix the blight, though he'd probably never stop trying, but if he could fix Sam, maybe... maybe Sam could take Sati away from this awful place. Take her somewhere where she'd flourish. He had no doubt he'd care for her.
Sam's arm shifted, and fitting into the crook of his neck.
"Stop fretting," he murmured, voice only just audible above the wind. "Just rest, Gabriel. Whatever thoughts keep you awake, you can do nothing about them now."
"What makes you think I'm worrying?"
"You always worry. But at this juncture, I can feel the tension in your muscles. It is not a posture conducive to good rest."
Even in the pitch darkness, Sam could read him like a book.
"I'll try," he offered.
"As will I."
Gabriel tried to make a concerted effort to relax, the top of his head resting against the truck's interior wall. But Sam's arm moved just so it cradled his neck, and it felt ridiculously comfortable.
"Your arm's going to go to sleep like this," Gabriel warned.
"I will remove it if it does," he answered. "Sleep."
Gabriel chuckled in the darkness, and shut his eyes. Sleep. He sorely needed sleep if he wanted to drive safely in the morning.