Sundance, Wyoming.

Rest was necessary for the living. Sam Winchester could only continue driving for so long until his body finally came to a point that he needed to recharge. Shortly after midnight, a room at the Bear Lodge Motel was inhabited and the exhausted hunter who now slept still upon one of the beds. Perhaps it was out of habit that he checked in to a double room, momentarily forgetting that angels do not, in fact, sleep … but there was always the concern in the back of his mind that Selaphiel could have another of her 'overloads' and might require rest as well. In fact, he had hesitations about sleeping at all.

But somehow, he managed amid the golden glow of the bedside lamps. Perhaps there was something comforting in the angel's presence as she sat at the head of the other bed, the occasional 'click' of her needles almost too quiet to hear. One might think it would be difficult to find ease in such a scene, but Sam didn't question just how comfortable he felt; it never once registered to him that this scenario would be considered weird even in the slightest.

So he slept. And nearly an hour after the hunter drifted into dreamland, Selaphiel calmly finished a row and set her needles aside and moved from the bed. She still had plenty of yarn, but this time, she had another agenda as she reached for Sam's cell phone, soundlessly plucking it from the nightstand as he continued his quiet breaths of slumber. Cradling the device close to her chest, her bare feet led her to the door and outside where she climbed onto the Lincoln's trunk, toes contouring to the curve of the bumper.

Carefully, she unlocked the phone, scrolling through the contacts and pausing briefly to glance back at the door to the room, as though reassuring herself that Sam continued to sleep soundly. Her eyes returned to the display as she lightly tapped one of the listed names and lifted it to her ear.

One ring. That was all it took.

"Sam?" asked Castiel's familiar voice.

The archangel's lashes fluttered briefly at the incorrect address, though it was expected considering the fact she was using the hunter's phone. What was more bizarre to her, at least, was the fact that Castiel didn't know who was truly calling him. This was a situation Selaphiel had never faced before and was thereby at a loss for words, staring blankly ahead.

After a couple beats of silence, the realization settled within Castiel. "Selaphiel?" he asked carefully.

How odd that he had to ask. The archangel's brows arched and furrowed at the strangeness of the moment. A very soft whisper escaped her lips. "Where are you?"

Castiel could hear the overwhelming sadness in his sibling's voice. "Laurel, Montana. Where are you?" That question sounded so foreign coming from his own tongue, no matter the language. Something he'd never had to ask before; he'd always known.

"Bear Lodge Motel … Sundance, Wyoming …" she replied.

Not even one second passed and the familiar sound of rustling wings could be heard, and her brother sat still at her side, mimicking Selaphiel's posture. With synchronized movements, the two angels slipped their respective phones into their pockets and folded their hands upon their laps, staring ahead and not looking to each other. Not yet.

"Why do they call it a 'lodge motel'?" Castiel asked with a slight tilt of his head. "Isn't that redundant?"

Selaphiel did not respond to his question, knowing full well that it was meant to break the awkward yet comfortable silence between them; instead, her gaze simply shifted to the dry asphalt. After a beat, she finally murmured, "... sorry about your car ..."

The younger angel arched a brow and glanced over his shoulder to the cracked windows of the Lincoln, then sighed slowly as he faced forward again, not seeming fazed in the least … at least, not by the physical damage. Instead, his brow creased from worry at just what had caused such a state. "How are you feeling?" he asked, changing the subject as he was more concerned for the well-being of the archangel than that of a machine.

Again, she didn't answer, only sitting quietly at her brother's side and bowing her head without a word.

"Are you okay?" Castiel pressed. "I mean, obviously you're not okay, but … given the circumstances …" His voice faded, words lingering on the air, unfinished. Selaphiel swallowed once and closed her eyes. Castiel's lips pressed together as his gaze melted into that of a desperate and lost child. "... talk to me?" he gently pleaded. This was not a request he often made of Selaphiel; in fact, he couldn't recall the last time he asked the archangel to speak to him.

Selaphiel's lips parted briefly as her eyes reopened to glance sadly to her brother; her expression was one of repressed pain and mourning. She quickly looked to the ground once more, several beats of silence passing before she again spoke. "I still … hear … everything …"

Castiel leaned forward to watch her with an empathic gaze, sympathetic as she continued. "... still receiving … and …" She drew a trembling breath. "I can hear … them …"

"Hell?" he asked sadly.

She offered a solemn nod in confirmation. "Among … others."

Castiel straightened his posture a bit; sometimes, he forgot about the many other worlds beyond those to which he'd been charged. "You can't tune them out?" he suggested; the way she shook her head in silent reply, however subtle the movement, told him that she was not without trying. "I'm … sorry, Selaphiel."

Again, she closed her eyes and bowed her head; perhaps what caused more worry within the younger angel was the way she clasped her hands ever tighter, her already pale knuckles whitening even more within the grip. After a moment of hesitation, he finally stated. "You're scared."

Ever honest and humble, Selaphiel nodded once in reply. "I believe in you," she confessed with quiet sincerity. "And I believe in the Winchesters … but … there is still a chance I … may not survive this. You and the others must prepare for what will happen when I am-"

"No, Selaphiel," Castiel said suddenly, quickly moving from the trunk to stand in front of her, face to face. "We are not doing this. You will not die."

"If I do-"

"You won't." He was adamant about this. Everything about his posture, his demeanor, the firm confidence in his voice, told Selaphiel that Castiel was tenacious and firm in his belief … in his Faith … that she would survive this, that this was only a temporary setback. "We need you."

"I know," she whispered as she lifted her gaze to meet his pleading and cerulean eyes, her own lined with tears. "And that is why I am so afraid of failing …"

{{ To be continued in Chapter 15: All Along the Watchtower }}

{{ Author's Note: There was originally much more to this chapter (well over 3,000 words), but this is why I love writing outlines for myself; once I reach a certain point, I read over notes for chapters I haven't yet written and I ask myself "is that really necessary?" then trim the excess. And this is what you get. Enjoy the short angst! }}

{{ P.S. The title of this chapter was brought to you by the band Tyr and their awesome Norse Rock track "By the Light of the Northern Star". Give it a listen and rock out. }}