"I won't help him."
The fledgling stared up at the archangel, despite being dwarfed in size by him, in challenge to his authority. The Messenger stared right back, eyes narrowing at her defiance, and leaned over her in superiority. She stepped forward and opened her arms in challenge to his stance.
"You will if I tell you that you will."
"Do it and find out."
They stared heavily at one another, the two hunters beside them watching, eyes bouncing from one to the other. Sam was mystified but Dean was starting to get annoyed but the wait.
"Dude, you're an Archangel, can't you just, like, order her to do it?"
"I could but—"
"You're not my Archangel."
Gabriel felt his temper starting to boil beneath his skin at the open defiance to his order in the fledgling that stood before him, and his hands clenched into fists, whether she saw or not she made no indication that she neither had nor cared if she did.
"No, I may not be yours, but rest assured I'll tell him."
"Do it! I don't even care!" she stared right back at him just as hard "Still won't help him."
"You know that Raph want's you to practice at it, it's just a little sprain, just do it."
"Let it hurt then."
"You're being a brat."
"No! I'm being realistic!"
"Do it, or, you're going to bed early. No playing. No sitting with us at the table. No snacks. Just bed."
"Then I better get back and get ready."
The Messenger threw his hands up in defeat, "Fine, brat, I'll heal his sprain."
"Good. 'Cause I wasn't gonna."