DON'T SHOOT THE MESSENGER
PART 2

The moment Sam heard Mary gasp, his hands shot up to cover his mouth as though he could physically force the words back in. He stared wide-eyed into Gabriel's face, unable to turn around and look at his mother. Her anger filled the room with ice-cold fury. Sam felt it press against him and he shivered as goosebumps rose unpleasantly along his skin. He bit into his palm when nausea forced bile up into his throat.

Come on, kiddo, she isn't mad at you. Gabriel's voice boomed in Sam's mind, a deafening explosion of thunder in the immediate vicinity of a lightning strike. He slapped the hand not shoved in his mouth over one ear and curled over, missing Gabriel's wince.

"Sorry, buddy, guess you're not quite ready for angel-radio yet, huh? Shh, it's okay, let me fix that..." The archangel whispered, brushing fingers through the messy curls and easing the sharp stabbing inside his skull. Sam also felt the mental barriers return, buffering Mary's anger. "That's better, yeah?"

Sam nodded but stayed hunched over, torn between exhaustion and mounting frustration. Everything from the last few days made him want to curl into a ball and hide and sleep for a few weeks. Why expose himself to this constant barrage of humiliation and anxiety when he was powerless against it all? He heard the voices of Mary and Castiel fade into the hall leaving nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

"You okay, Sam?" Gabriel asked without a trace of teasing or use of a nickname. It was a relief—knowing how serious the archangel was treating this moment. Sam needed to be taken seriously, and not just be seen as some strange new child.

"How tell her? Demon blood, Azazel...No!" Sam grabbed Gabriel's jacket collar and pushed himself into the other's space for the first time. "No tell her."

"Whoa there! Don't tell her what? About Azazel's plan? That's kinda the only part of the story she's directly involved in—it might be hard to leave that blank." Gabriel said in English, looking confused.

Sam shook his head and pushed back against the rising tide of anxiety. If he could focus on the words and logic, then maybe he could relearn how to disconnect his emotional response in some situations. Situations like this one. "No! If her know Azazel, next know...Lucifer. Too soon."

Gabriel sighed sadly, "I'm sorry, Sam. But your mother already knows about Lucifer. She wanted to know why your soul needed to be healed—why and how it was broken in the first place."

Sam froze at the words, his grasp on the cool, logical argument slipping away at the realization that the plan was useless. "She know?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, she knows—about vessels, and how Heaven and Hell tried manipulating you both into saying yes, and how you saved the world by tricking the devil. Oh, just for the record—you and I are definitely going to have a long talk about how it is you came to the conclusion that jumping was the best application of my porn-hidden plan. But not right now, and not today," Gabriel said as he calmly eased Sam's fingers down from his jacket and held them loosely between them. "Now, she knows about Luci, but not Azazel. She needs to know what happened to you boys after she died. Needs to know why she died—why Azazel made these deals in the first place. Do you understand?" Sam nodded, devastated at not preventing his mom from learning about the cage. "Okay, kiddo. Hold on a sec, Castiel's asking me something."

Sam sat on the counter, staring at his smaller hands against Gabriel's larger palms. Part of him recognized what the archangel had said, and understood the truth of it. Considering she already knew the one thing he was hoping to keep from her, everything else in their history seemed to pale in comparison. What's the horror in her learning Azazel's part in their story when she knows the ending?

The sight of Gabriel's fingers curling to completely cover Sam's own hand made him jump. Looking up, he realized he'd missed hearing his name. "Sam? Saammmy?" Gabriel's voice sang until he had his attention. "There you are," he smiled and gently let go of Sam's hands so he could raise his own in invitation, "So, Castiel is going to fill your mom in on the basics. I think we need to go wake up your brother and catch him up on the morning. What do you say?"

"He mad I say bad things..." Sam ignored the offered arms.

"What? I don't..." he cut himself off as he remembered the statement that started this whole mess, "You mean the thing about John? You think Dean will be angry because you said something negative about your dad?"

Sam shook his head, knowing he could never explain how their father had turned into a mixed symbol in the decade since his death. The brothers had tried so hard to reconcile their conflicting feelings for the man who'd raised them in empty rooms with empty bellies. Their own monumental mistakes softened the boys' memories of John's actions. But for Sam to have said what he did in front of Mary would be unforgivable. "She hear bad things," he clarified.

"Oh, Dean will be mad your mom heard what you said," Gabriel pulled a face, understanding that their morning chat with the older Winchester brother could get rough. "Well, he may not like it, but he will move on. Believe me, the more I learn about you boys, the more I know not to underestimate either of you."

Sam raised an eyebrow, silently asking for further explanation.

"I'll explain it later—it goes along with the talk about you jumping into the cage. Let's focus on one thing at a time, and right now..." Gabriel wiggled his fingers where they still hung, suspended between them, waiting for Sam to lean forward.

Sam knew he couldn't ignore Gabriel's requests to pick him up. He doubted the archangel would allow him to jump down, or try to climb off the counter. Besides, Sam didn't think he could make the long walk back to their new bedroom, and he appreciated the fact that Gabriel wasn't just grabbing him without permission. So he begrudgingly leaned into the offered arms.

Gabriel held him to his chest and Sam allowed himself to rest his chin on the broad shoulder. For a moment, they just stood there in the kitchen. "You are going to be just fine, Samuel. Your family loves you, and you have at least two angels who will do everything in their power to keep all of you—all of us—safe. I promise."

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the jacket material. He felt something shift in Gabriel and then something like the sun's rays in a gentle wind drifted across his arms and ruffled his hair. It was warm and playful and like nothing he remembered experiencing. Opening his eyes, he found his vision filled with golden light. It took several hard blinks to make out the shape of feathers and he felt an involuntary laugh rise through him in wonder.

Gabriel laughed with him, a sound both musical and magical when Sam could hear their graces respond in kind. "That's better," the archangel said warmly, "now let's get Deano. Then, we can have a real breakfast."

He gave himself the walk through the bunker to focus solely on the feeling of Sam being calm. Every once in a while, fingers would lazily run through his wings and it felt like electricity on wind. My Dad, I've missed little siblings! he thought to himself. The boy really deserved a break. Not just a grace-patch on his soul, but a chance to breathe without constant crisis. "After breakfast, we are going to focus on as much hardcore relaxing as is physically possible with an angel and archangel at your disposal," he mumbled but Sam wasn't paying attention to anything outside the feathers draped over him like a blanket.

Outside the bedroom, Gabriel reluctantly pulled back his wing and returned Sam's over-stimulated mind to the present situation. "Alright, Sammy, you ready to wake this bear? We can ply him with extra food if he starts roaring and eating people's faces."

"See, it's people like you who get their face eaten when they wake others up with rude name calling," a sleep-graveled voice interrupted the pep talk.

Mary was frantic. Why would her husband—a man who adored and doted on his children—ever say that? "Please tell me that I misunderstood what I heard?" Her voice rose above the sound of Gabriel and Sam whispering to each other.

"Mary," Castiel's voice was low but full of command that made her instantly focus on him, "Let's sit down and give them a minute. Then we'll answer your questions. Would you like some coffee?" He ushered her out of the kitchen toward the couches from the night before.

"Do I want coffee? No—I need someone to explain why John would ever say those words to Dean!" she tried to push past the angel, but Castiel was like stone.

"Please," he insisted, "I will explain, but you must calm down if you wish to speak with Sam about this issue. You have the right to be angry—but not at your sons."

Mary searched his face for any hint of deceit. When she found only honesty and compassion, she nodded and allowed him to lead her away from Sam.

Gabriel, will you be able to join us? Castiel mentally inquired.

Not any time soon. This may take a little while. Sammy really didn't want to tell his mom the story of being fed demon blood because he didn't want her to learn about Lucifer and the cage. I've explained that she already knows. He's not happy, but he understands why she needs to be told...Go ahead and explain it to her for now and we can have the boys answer questions later. There was a pause and Castiel could almost feel his brother sighing. Well, she can ask them anyway. There's no guarantee that Sam will switch back to English.

He speaks Enochian when he is upset. And...Lucifer was not a kind teacher. Castiel stumbled as he tried to subtly explain Sam's broken speech, then winced when he felt the boy's growing inner turmoil from the other room.

That...that actually explains a lot. Gabriel answered.

Gabriel, I do not want to tell her things without Dean's knowledge. He will feel...betrayed. Perhaps you and Sam should go talk to him. It may help Samuel as well—he seems upset.

Yeeaahhh, gotta go.

He likes our wings, Castiel offered up as his brother went silent. He focused back on Mary as they sat down. "Gabriel says he needs some time to calm Sam and that I should go ahead and explain what I can now."

"Is Sammy alright?" she asked, worry clear on her face.

"He is..." he thought of the right words to describe Sam's current condition, "sensitive to the emotions of others. The grace gives him an enormous empathic ability as well as heightening his own emotional state. Before you joined us, he was already struggling with own fear of being no longer accepted by his family due to the change he underwent. Especially after last night's episode."

Mary frowned, "I figured he'd be embarrassed, but why would we not accept him?"

"As you know, John raised the boys to be hunters," Castiel shifted uncomfortably, worried that Dean would be angry at him for revealing any amount of details. But it needed to be said, and he didn't trust the brothers to not skip out on important details that would cast John in a bad light. "He taught them that anything supernatural was to be killed, anything non-human destroyed on principle. After several years of tracking the yellow-eyed demon, he learned what it had done to Sam in the nursery the night of your death. Yellow-eyes, Azazel, fed him demon blood. Your sons later discovered that he had done this to many children around the same time—children he had access to thanks to demon deals with their mothers."

"Oh God!" she gasped, covering her mouth, "He fed my baby demon blood? Why?"

"It activates latent abilities—telekinesis, pyrokinesis, mind-control, super strength, visions of the future. Sam had visions, and later could exorcise demons with his mind without harming the host."

"But why?" she asked again.

"It was to prepare possible vessels for Lucifer." Castiel sighed and turned to fully face her on the sofa, "Everything that every happened to your family was done as a prelude to the apocalypse. Azazel was tasked with finding dozens of potential vessels, but everyone knew it would come down to Sam. He and Dean were destined for their roles. Everyone else was really just a back up plan."

"So, feeding them blood as babies..."

"Prepared their bodies and minds to house an archangel. Remember how angels are compatible with certain bloodlines? Well, all of the children Azazel fed were from the bloodline of Cain, which is tied to Lucifer. For most, the relation was very distant, and they probably would have never been able to contain the archangel. But Sam is a direct descendant through the Campbell line. Just as Dean is a direct descendant of Abel through the Winchester line—which houses Michael. So, it was always meant to end with those two because Heaven ensured their creation and manipulated their lives' events to push them into their roles." Castiel gave her time to absorb everything he'd said.

"So why did John tell Dean that he would have to either save or kill Sammy?" she finally asked.

"Because he was told that the yellow-eyed demon was creating soldiers to lead a demon army. He knew nothing of angels, let alone the plans for the apocalypse. And Sam was meant to lead a demon army. Azazel forced all the ones who showed potential into a death match where the winner gets crowned leader. It would have given Hell time to mold Lucifer's vessel into a powerful, willing tool."

Mary managed to look even more horrified. "What happened?"

Castiel looked away. It was not his place to tell about Sam's death, nor Dean's demon deal and his own trip to Hell. "I do not know all the specifics, and some is not my story to tell. I can say that it did not go to plan, and there was no demon army.

She nodded, accepting his incomplete answer. He had told her plenty for now, although she still had one more question. "Castiel?"

"Yes?" he replied, looking at her again.

"Earlier, you said I had the right to be angry, just not at my sons. Did you mean I should be angry with the demons and angels who were involved in all that? Or were you talking about John?" She held his gaze unblinking.

Castiel's eyes widened, unprepared for her insight. He wanted to look away, but knew Mary would interpret it as deceit rather than shame. "All of them deserve your anger, Mary Winchester."

"But not equally," she kept pushing.

"It is not my place to determine who is worthy to receive greater portions of your anger." Castiel tried to avoid being straightforward.

"Castiel!" she said, exasperated.

"John was not the man you remember," he sighed, "and, while telling Dean to either kill or save Sam was possibly the worst thing he said, it was not the only thing. However, that is also not for me to tell, and that conversation needs to wait until another day." Mary opened her mouth to say something, but Castiel cut her off, "No, I have already said more than I wanted to without Dean present, and the boys need to learn how to trust you before answering questions about their father."

Mary surprised Castiel when, instead of insisting on more answers, she reached up and wrapped the angel in a hug. "Thank you for telling me the truth," she whispered, "and thank you for protecting them when you could."

"You...you are welcome," Castiel responded in a bewildered tone, then added, "They are my family."

"I'm glad. It sounds like they needed one."

The angel jerked back a little and she let him go. He had always seen the boys as a complete unit—two lives completely bound together by trauma and sacrifice and blood. They were The Brothers, a supernatural entity unto themselves, and they were already a family. He'd been adopted by the Winchesters, and while he'd wrestled with his place in their family Castiel had never questioned how they saw him. Never questioned if they needed more than each other.

"You don't think they need you?" she asked with a laugh, seeing his reaction, "I may be new around here, but I knew as soon as we met that he looked to you."

"For what?" his voice was rougher than usual.

"Everything. Support, comfort, confirmation—things that I don't even know how to offer to him because I don't know him yet," she smiled like she was in awe of Castiel, like she wasn't jealous or hurt that he had somehow replaced her, "When I first saw this Dean, he was terrifying. Tall and dangerous and he came storming out of a dark wooded area full of mist. I didn't know who he was, but I was really surprised how easy it was to take him to the ground.

"After we got past our introductions and we made our way to the bunker, I remember thinking how confident and unshakable he seemed. Just broad stunning smiles and witty optimism. I never realized he'd just come from saving the whole damn universe, or that he was worried because Sammy wasn't answering the phone. But when we pulled up and he saw you—I realized I'd only seen a mask because I watched it crumble and get replaced by such relief."

Castiel tilted his head in confusion, "I do not understand."

Mary smiled, "Dean had just spent three hours pretending like it was perfectly normal to drive around with his dead mom. It was cold and distant now that I've gotten to know him better. But when he saw you, and knew he could finally be himself, it was the first time I really saw Dean. My Dean. And he's looked to you ever since that moment. When we found the blood, and then Sam, he looked to you for guidance and support. He defers to your judgment, even when he fights about it first. He trusts you. They both do. Don't think I've missed how Sam soaks up your attention like summer sun."

Castiel felt a smile settle on his face and rubbed the back of his neck, "I honestly never saw them as needing me. I've tried to remain useful to them, even when I was reduced to living as a human. But they've always been my family. I didn't think they saw me as their family."

"Well, allow me to reassure you. They do. You're a very special person, Castiel, and I hope one day you and I can consider each other family too."

Dean had been content drifting through the space between sleep and consciousness. It was a rare event for the hunter to wake relaxed instead of alert and tense. That bubble of contentment was burst when the echo of footsteps broke through his awareness and he recognized the snarky voice of the Trickster.

The silence that followed Dean's own sassy comeback was unsettling enough to make him sit up and try to get his eyes to focus past his mental fog. Checking his watch proved it was still early, but a glance around the empty room worked to clear the sleepiness faster than anything else. "Gabriel, where is everyone? Where's Sam? Where's my mom and Cas?" Dean ordered as he turned on a table lamp and stood up.

"Whoa there, cowboy! Do all humans wake up assuming the world is ending, or is that a Winchester special? Relax, man, I got Sam right here," he turned as he walked into the light to show mini-Sam, in his footie pajamas, perched on the archangel's hip. It would have been cute if not for the fact that his brother was face-planting into Gabriel's jacket in obvious distress.

"Yeah? What's wrong with him? What did you do to upset him? I swear to God, if you've..." Dean's voice was calculating and calm as his eyes took in every detail of the two. The kid was letting their newest stray house-guest parade him through the house while clearly upset. Wait, not just upset—he was hiding from Dean. "Sammy?" the hunter's voice softened to a tone reserved just for assessing and reassuring his brother.

Sam shook his head without lifting it, rubbing his face against the fabric. "S'r'y," came the mumbled reply.

"About...last night? Dude, I promise, you did not need to make a special apology at six in the morning," Dean reassured, and a little confused how this constituted a crisis before sunrise.

"Not just that," Sam said as he pulled back from Gabriel's shoulder enough to be clearly heard, but still wouldn't look at Dean.

"What else are you sorry about?" he asked, bewildered.

"I promise, I didn't mean to say it! I didn't know...didn't know she was there. I never..." the kid was hyperventilating as he tried to start the story half a dozen times.

Dean's eyes moved from his brother to Gabriel, eyebrows raised to demand explanation.

The archangel sighed, "Cassie and I took Sam to the kitchen when he woke up so we could discuss stuff without waking you and your mom. We got to talking about his concern over not being human anymore," Gabriel's eyes stayed locked on Dean, encouraging him silently to listen between the lines. The hunter knew 'concern' was Sam's default mode, and on a topic like that 'concern' probably more closely resembled 'tripping into terror.' He nodded to Gabriel that he understood what he was really saying and he was surprised to see relief on the shorter man's face before he kept speaking, "Sam mentioned something John said before he died. And...your mom heard."

It took a second for Dean to figure out what Sam had said. His eyes widened and his hand flew up to his hair, "Oh shit, you said...you said that Dad told me I'd have to...and Mom heard you? What did she do?" Morbid curiosity mixed with his need to assess the situation with their mother.

"She demanded answers. I had Castiel explain the basics of Azazel's part in your lives. If I heard correctly, he told your mother how John only knew about the plans for Sam to lead the demon army and that the demon's plan failed. Cas didn't go into Sam's death or your deal. He wouldn't betray your confidence." Gabriel's eyes shone with a seriousness and understanding that was starting to unnerve Dean.

"Did she say anything stupid?"

That question wiped all the understanding from Gabriel as he laughed, his face scrunched up in bewilderment, "Like what? Ask for Azazel's blood type?"

"No," Dean's aggressive protectiveness wasn't distracted by the sass, "I mean did she upset Sam? Did she try to defend our dad."

"Oh," Gabriel looked down at the kid who was staring holes into the archangel's shirt. He used his free hand to rub Sam's back in what appeared to be an unconscious gesture, "No, I'm pretty sure there is no defense for your dad. And last I saw Mary, she was more likely to resurrect John and kill him again than she was to defend him."

"Good," the hunter said gruffly, then softened as he turned all his focus to his brother, "So what's got you upset, Sammy? Did you think I'd freak out? Or is this about last night?"

At first, it wasn't clear if Sam was going to answer, but then they heard a small voice whisper, "Both."

"Hey Gabe, you mind sitting him on the bed for me?" Dean sat on the edge of his mattress and patted the space beside him. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but lowered the kid to the requested spot. Without the archangel distracting him, Sam quickly seemed to realize there was no escaping a talk with his brother. The problem for Dean was that Sam was too short for this conversation to happen side-by-side.

With a sigh, Dean eased himself off the bed, joints popping, and knelt facing Sam. "Alright, dude, talk to me."

Sam shrugged, but his brother waited him out, knowing the kid could never pass up the chance to talk. His patience was rewarded when Sam squirmed after only thirty seconds and caved in, "I just worry...that it's a lot. A lot to accept at once."

"Is it a lot for you to accept?" Dean asked.

"What? That's not..." Sam huffed, knowing his brother had deliberately turned his words against him, "I mean, yes, it's been hard. Less than a week ago, I was prepared to take the Mark, God almost died, then you almost died and I was shot and now mom's back and Gabriel's back. It hasn't all sunk in yet."

Dean nodded, "I agree, those are all big things that will take time to process. But you didn't wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and have an existential crisis over any of them."

"I...I guess that the thing from last night was still fresh in my mind when I first woke up. The angel-squad was worried I'd still be upset and wanted to talk. That's all."

"That's all, huh? You just talked about Michael and Raphael returning?" the hunter's voice was quiet and intense.

Sam flinched and his breath caught at the resurgence of fear caused by that thought, "N-no."

"Then what did you talk about?"

"I told you! That all of this would be too much accept." Sam gestured vaguely around them.

Dean's eyes lit up in understanding, "You think we won't accept you now that you're different?"

"What?! No, that's not what..." Sam rushed to deny his brother's words.

"Really Sam?" he used his 'how dumb do you think I am' voice, "So what, you were just casually discussing your 'concerns' about being turned into some kind of baby angel, and happened to mention John's dying words?"

"No...no..." the kid kept shaking his head.

"Who else in this universe knows the hell those words put us through besides me and you? No one! You can lie to everyone else and gloss over what you 'really meant,' but not me. I know, and I'm tired of those words haunting us." Dean framed his little brother's face with his hands, forcing the kid to look at him and quit shaking his head. "Dad. Was. Wrong. I don't give a shit how scared he was, or how hard he tried, because he was wrong for even thinking it. Saving you will always be my priority. You will always be my priority, understand?"

Tears fell over the baby-round cheeks and Dean promptly wiped them with his thumbs. Sam stared at him in confusion, "But I'm not human, Dean!"

Rolling his eyes, "So? What, I should be mad because Chuck saved your life? I mean, if my options are a tiny angel brother or a dead human brother, I'll take my chances and try not to trip over you."

"That's...you're not..." Sam tripped over his words, "You're not taking this seriously!"

"I couldn't be more serious, kiddo. How many times have we been changed by the supernatural? We've been infected, bitten, healed, put under spells, swapped bodies, possessed, killed, and resurrected. I've lost count it happens so often! And we've always rolled with it. I was a demon—a full knight of hell—and you stayed by my side. Now you've got some angel-grace and I should get out the holy oil? Fuck that, dude."

"You really think that?" Sam asked, breathless with the possibility.

"Yeah, Sammy, I really think that," Dean smoothed down the boy's curls and pulled him into a hug, "And I think mom is a little relieved that one of us is kid-sized."

Sam gave a laugh through his tears and gently smacked the back of his brother's head, "I can't believe you let her dress me."

"Ha! You try stopping her. She even had Cas and Gabe jumping to do her bidding," he smirked over to the archangel who was leaning against the wall watching them.

Gabriel took the invitation to rejoin the conversation, "Hey, no fair. She was in total mom-mode! Angels don't even have moms...we had no defense against her."

"Whatever, mamma's boy. Let's get out there before she has Cas spilling inappropriate insights about pizza men or bees," he pulled back from Sam to look him over. His brother was still shaken and emotionally unsteady, but he was smiling and making eye contact. "You ready?"

Sam chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. "I guess. It's not like we can hide in here forever, right?"

"I love you, but I'm not spending eternity in this room. Come on," he helped Sam off the bed and didn't let go until the boy had his balance, "Are your feet warm enough, or should we get some slippers you can fit your footsies into?" Dean laughed when the only response he was given was a tiny middle finger.