AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Enochian is in bold.
Thoughts/angel-radio/telepathy is in italics.

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
PART ONE: SHEPARD

The dawn broke pale through the trees. Fog rolled across the forest floor like a living entity too solid for the weak winter light to dispel. The world slept in silence a moment longer.

A man stood beside a large SUV, dressed in a black suit and unaffected by the temperature. He used binoculars that cut through the fog and dark to stare into the woods. The familiar cement bunker came into focus and the man made a mark in his notepad. He knew the occupants of this building. Knew their names. Knew their routine.

And today was the day.

A scream rang out through the bunker. Gabriel instantly abandoned the notes he was making in his cookbook and appeared in Sam's room next to the boy flailing on the bed. The small figure had blankets wrapped around his entire torso from restless sleeping and now he resembled a mummy. It would have been amusing if it weren't for the heaving sobs and frantic battle against bedding.

"Shh, Sam, it's okay. You're safe," Gabriel tried to soothe as he carefully began to untangle the madness.

This whole thing was breaking his heart. Sam had only allowed himself to sleep in the shared bedroom for two more nights before insisting on returning to his own room. That was a week ago. After one quiet night, the next six had all ended the same way—with Sam screaming himself awake. It seemed as though the boy's grace, in the process of sorting the centuries of memories, was fueling night terrors with constant new material. And each one was like a badly healed bone being re-broken.

I just wish he wouldn't keep us at a distance, he thought. Since returning to his bedroom, Sam had demanded they leave him alone at night and refused the angels' offers to watch over his increasingly troubled sleep. He had agreed to their intervention when the nightmares reached screaming-level, but only because he feared his grace surging and hurting others. Gabriel knew part of building trust included listening and adhering to boundaries, and there was a natural order to healing the mind that just had to happen with time. But that didn't mean he had to be alone.

Gabriel finally got the blanket to fall away from the face streaked with tears and sweat. He resisted the urge to snap everything into order, but they learned the hard way not to use grace until Sam was awake enough to talk to them. He and Castiel still had a few feathers that carried small static shocks—a leftover from the fledgling's electric storm when Gabriel had instinctively reached with his grace to connect and reassure. After that, they stuck with methods limited to the five human senses.

"Get out! Get out! Out! Out! OUT!" the boy shouted in English, which made Gabriel pause. So far, Sam had always woken up speaking Enochian, sometimes sticking with the angel's language for several hours before switching back to his native tongue.

Castiel flew in on the other side of Sam's bed already reaching to help with the blankets. "What do you need?" he asked what was becoming their routine.

"Not sure yet." Gabriel shook his head and continued their conversation silently. He's using English, so it's either an early cage memory, or it's from his life up here.

Opening his senses as much as possible, he tried to catch any stray clues pouring out of the distraught kid. He saw random images of the bunker's library. An Asian boy with burnt out eyes. A terror different from Lucifer.

Hazel eyes snapped open, pupils blown and still focused on his dreams' echos. Sam ripped one arm free and grabbed Gabriel's wrist, sinking tiny sharp nails into his vessel's flesh. "Get OUT! Now!"

"Sam? Sam, it's okay. You are in your bedroom in the bunker. Dean and your mom are down the hallway. There's nothing happening right now. You just need to wake up, Sam." Gabriel coaxed as he ran fingers lightly up and down the arm digging into him.

The boy laughed and it gave the angels chills at the empty sound. "You wish I thought nothing was happening. You think you can just keep me here, ignorant and content in your illusion, while you ride me," he spit out the words though a clenched jaw, his eyes focused somewhere over Gabriel's shoulder, "Get. Out. Now. You murdering piece of shit."

"Cas?" Gabriel breathed without taking his eyes off the furious ball of rage. Little help?

Castiel didn't answer him, but instead sat on the bed facing Sam. He brought his hands to rest on his lap when he spoke, "Samuel, look at me. He is not here. You are in your bedroom, not inside your mind. I promise, Gadreel is dead. Remember?" Gabriel started at the angel's name—no one had been eager to share that story with him yet.

Disbelief shone clear on the fledgling's face. Sam tightened his hold on Gabriel even as the archangel continued trying to calm him with the rhythmic brushing against skin trembling with adrenaline. "I said get out!" Fear broke into his voice and his brow furled in confusion as he muttered to himself, "I don't...I don't understand. It should work. I've cast you out—you have to leave!"

Castiel leaned forward, radiating earnestness, "It is not working because we are not in your mind. Gabriel and I are real, and we are all awake with you in your bedroom. You had a bad dream, Samuel."

"A...what?" Sam's eyes darted from Castiel's face to Gabriel and finally focused when he really saw the golden grace glowing within earthy-brown orbs. Enormous eyes traced where the light flowed back to manifest the wings rising to frame floppy brown hair. The archangel was daily grateful for his brother discovering the boy's fascination with their wings—they were one of the most powerful tools in dealing with Sam in this state.

Today was no different. The trembling stilled in the automatic rush of delight and awe brought on by the sight of the glowing feathers. It provided the necessary jolt to Sam's brain that allowed his most recent memories to rise up and surface. Nails scratched against Gabriel's wrist as the boy tried to release his grip and pull his arm away. Gabriel wrapped his free hand around Sam's and helped pry the unresponsive fingers out of the grooves they were digging. He rubbed the small palm with his thumb to relax the muscles further. Looking up, he caught the guilt pooled in the Sam's eyes as the boy saw the indentations.

"It is fine. You did not hurt me. See?" The skin was returning to its normal state, leaving only red marks that were already fading. Sam's concern remained, but now that the relief of returning to the present was wearing off he began to shake again from the inevitable emotional fallout.

"Everything okay here?" Dean stood at the doorway, wrapped in his robe and looking exhausted. A week of interrupted sleep and no hunting meant naps were starting to become a more frequent event in the bunker. Today was definitely shaping up to be a nap-day.

Gabriel was about to respond when Castiel's hard voice answered first, "We do not need assistance. Go to the kitchen."

Dean took a step back at the tone, and Gabriel stared between the two. He had never heard the angel speak to the hunter with such cold dismissal. Sure, they argued like an old married couple, but this was different—it had both Castiel and Sam on high-alert at the hunter's appearance.

"Cas?" Dean asked hesitantly without coming any closer. His gaze moved to Gabriel, but the archangel shrugged, just as lost. He had absolutely no context for this particular moment.

Static sparked up Gabriel's arm from where he still held Sam's hand. "Whoa there, kiddo. What's going on?"

"Go, Dean." Castiel's order didn't allow for disobedience. Dean frowned but turned to stalk toward the kitchen. They heard Mary's voice from down the hall and Dean's muffled response. Once the two humans had faded through the bunker, the seraph turned back to Sam. The boy yanked his hand free of Gabriel and started tearing angrily at the blankets still trapping the rest of his body.

"Peace, Samuel. We will help you. Just relax." The switch back to Enochian settled the frantic movements long enough for them to unwrap the bedding. The second he was free, Sam scrambled off the bed and stood between the door and them with his arms wrapped around himself. "I know you are angry and upset, and are justified. However, you must try to calm down or Gabriel will have to help, and I do not believe you want that right now."

Sam shook his head violently and shuffled a step away. Electricity ran through him, glowing white-violet as it arced along his skin. His eyes lit like a thunderstorm.

"Can you speak, little one?" Gabriel asked calmly as he stood. Sam never let them get away with calling him such pet names when he was in his right mind—but in moments of pure instinct and distress, the boy usually responded well to them. He shook out his wings to serve as a visual reminder of the archangel's capabilities and a grounding presence for Sam to focus on. It didn't hurt that it also made him more ready to act if the child lost control.

For a moment, he feared Sam wouldn't reply and he'd be forced to drain the building grace again. They'd only had to do that once since leaving the shared bedroom. The first night of nightmares had trapped Sam in a cage flashback, shocking anyone who came near until Gabriel had stepped in. After feeling the archangel's grace against his own, Sam didn't speak English again until the following evening. He really wanted to avoid repeating that experience. Especially when their daily grooming sessions were a much more effective and enjoyable way to maintain grace.

Finally, Sam gave a short nod and took a breath. Some of the sparks settled down. "I talk." Power spilled into his voice—an impressive feat for such a young and inexperienced

Gabriel smiled reassuringly. "Good. We are going to go outside a little early today, and practice how to channel all that energy out safely, okay?" He had promised not to forcibly intervene if the boy could still speak, and he would keep it. "Do you want me to fly us, or should we walk?"

Sam looked toward the door and shook his head. They all knew there was no route from his room to the exit that didn't take them past the kitchen. "Fly," he said, resigned.

The archangel walked to Sam and held out a hand. He would rather pick the shivering child up, but knew the affection wouldn't be accepted yet. Castiel stood and grabbed one of the boy's hoodies that hung off the desk chair. Once they stood together, Gabriel flew them to their nightly-used fire pit.

The morning air, damp and cold, layered frost across the litter in leaves on the ground. The film of ice glistened in the muted sunlight. Grabbing a blanket from the pile they kept beside the ring of rocks, Gabriel shook it out. Grace flooded through the fabric, cleansing and heating each fiber. He laid it out and brought a fire to full blaze in the pit with the flick of his wrist.

Turning, he saw Castiel tugging the hoodie over Sam's head. As soon as the boy was dressed to the seraph's content, they both settled onto heat-infused pillows. Steam filled the air where the two temperatures met.

Gabriel stepped back. "I will be right back. I need to grab something." They nodded and he was off. It took a few minutes of searching through a dust-filled forgotten house before he found what he sought. As soon as his hand grasped it, he returned to the fireside.

Sam sat hugging his knees to himself, face buried in the material of his sleep pants. Castiel was silently running his fingers through the mess of curls to keep the fledgling calm. He looked up when Gabriel arrived and gave a small nod.

So, what do I need to know to maybe not trigger him further? Gabriel asked silently as he sat down carefully next to the two on the blanket.

Castiel studied the boy for a minute, then turned his gaze back to Gabriel. "I asked Samuel who he wanted to have tell you the story, and he decided to tell it himself."

"Oh!" Gabriel was surprised. Getting Sam to volunteer information was never easy. Of course, just keeping Sam verbal was enough of a challenge. To have both occur directly after a nightmare or flashback was an act of Chuck Almighty. It was a show of trust the archangel wasn't expecting. "Thank you. I will be honored to listen. But first we must get you balanced before you flood out. Come on, pill-bug, unroll it."

Between the two of them, the angels were able to draw Sam out of the ball he was curled into. When they were all situated comfortably, Gabriel held up the object he'd retrieved. It was a clear polished quartz with lines of pure gold suspended in bursts throughout the center. The surface was covered in minuscule symbols that appeared burned on.

Pressing it into Sam's palm, Gabriel explained, "This is a focal stone. I made it when I first left Heaven. It allowed me to intentionally drain my grace enough to not be tracked by any of my more ambitious siblings. I used it daily until I found a better long-term solution."

He watched as small fingers wrap themselves around the glittering smooth stone and a look of understanding settled on the too-young face. Sam opened his mouth a few times before actual sound came out, "It pulls." The boy started to hand the stone to Castiel, but paused and looked to Gabriel with the clear question on his face.

Gabriel nodded his permission and sent Castiel a smirk. Do you think the would ever do that to Dean? Because I am not above ensuring that situation comes about...

"This is very warm." Castiel studied the sigils with a squint. It will probably happen without you needing to do any set-up after this morning.

Gabriel grimaced at the reminder of his and Sam's future conversation. Clearly, it was at least as bad as he imagined. Probably much worse, knowing the Winchesters. Out loud, he continued his explanation, "I know, awesome, right? I used it so many times I think it is trained to tug on any grace it touches. Also, I seared strengthening sigils onto it, make that gem virtually indestructible. It's built to withstand a massive influx of power for long periods of time." Gabriel smiled, a little bitter, "I had anger issues in the beginning and no where to direct my energies. Anyway, it is like a pocket grace-compactor. You do not get back what you put in, but it does condense into pretty, pretty colors."

"What do I do?" Sam asked as Castiel returned the stone.

"You know how, when we groom, we follow the natural paths of energy flow until we find a blockage? Well, you are going to push your own grace along those paths, gathering up all that excess energy that is building just under your skin. Push it down through your arms and the stone's draw will guide it right out." He gave Sam an encouraging nod when the boy looked at Gabriel with uncertainty.

It took almost an hour to get Sam's eyes to stop glowing and for the static storm to quit rolling across his skin. Gabriel was fascinated by Sam's grace—energy in the form of lightning was a rare manifestation among the angels. And none were as powerful as this young one. Thankfully, Sam was an exceptional student and picked up on everything rather quickly. They were able to avert a disaster without drastic action. He'd take it as a win.

With a heavy sigh, the boy rested his head against a pillow and curled onto his side away from Gabriel. The shift in mood was sudden and he looked to Castiel for any insight. His brother gazed sadly at the dejected figure. Stretching on his stomach across the blanket, Castiel lowered himself down so he was face-to-face with Sam. The seraph had taken to being on the boy's level as often as possible.

"Are you well, Samuel?" Castiel asked in a whisper.

Gabriel saw the boy nod his head, "It's okay, Cas. You go ahead. I know you want to talk to him. Just don't...don't smite him." The humor was edged with honesty. Castiel's lack of smile turned Gabriel's grace.

"I do not believe I am the one you must convince to not harm your brother. Gabriel is who you should worry about." Castiel said in seriousness.

"Hey!" Gabriel interjected with just a drop of offense. "I have a little more self-control than that, thank you." They ignored him.

Sam put his palm against Castiel's forehead and pushed. "Go on, Cas." The angel flew off without bothering to sit or stand first. The silence was instantly heavy and he watched the boy curl in tighter.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Sam?" Gabriel asked when several minutes ticked by without change. He couldn't see anything but the back of a lumpy hood pulled over tangled hair.

A startled sniffle made Gabriel want to scoop him up. Instead, Sam pushed himself to sitting and failed to discreetly wipe his face before facing the archangel. "Yeah, sorry. It's been a while since these memories were this clear. Some are kinda...new."

"Oh," Gabriel said with understanding. The poor thing was constantly finding buried pieces of his past, mostly from the time his body and soul spent separated. "Take your time. I'm sure those two will stare disapprovingly for twenty minutes or so before someone speaks. There's no rush."

Sam huffed a laugh, "No kidding." He took a deep, shaky breath, "Cas told you about the trials he and Metatron did to close Heaven. Well, while all that was going down, I almost completed the trials...to close the gates of hell."

Gabriel gasped in horror, unable to even form a reply. Apparently, he didn't need words for Sam to understand.

"I know, I should be dead. I was at the very end of the third trial—curing Crowley of being a demon. Then, Dean busted in and stopped me, but the damage was done. He got me to the car just as the angels fell. I saw them burn in the sky right before I fell into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't make it, so Dean..." he swallowed hard, and his breath shook, "Dean put out a prayer to all angels, asking for help. One showed up and said the only way he could save me was if he possessed me as a vessel and fixed the damage from the inside. Dean gave consent. And helped trick me into saying 'yes.'"

"He what?" Gabriel finally reformed a connection between his brain and his tongue. He had never heard of an angel taking a vessel without consent. He didn't even know it was possible.

Sam shrugged and looked down to pick at the blanket, "The guy said he was some angel named Ezekiel. Dean later found out that Ezekiel had died in the fall. It wasn't until I...he killed our friend Kevin and Crowley used Heaven's mind-breaking methods on him that they learned it was Gadreel. So, Dean told Crowley to also possess me and tell me about the angel possessing me so I could kick Gadreel out. Because I didn't know I was possessed and being kept locked away in some illusion while Gadreel carried out Metatron's orders. So I did. Cast him out, I mean."

"You had a the angel Gadreel and Crowley 'king of hell' both possess you at the same time?" Gabriel clarified in a quiet but charged voice.

The boy nodded and unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder before dropping the hand to clutch his left palm. It was a gesture Gabriel had witnessed several times since his arrival. The only real explanation he'd gotten so far was Castiel telling him how Sam had used an old injury to fight off hallucinations of Lucifer. But it did seem like it occurred more frequently during certain discussions. Usually concerning Sam's control over his own body and mind.

When clutching started causing damage, Gabriel intervened. "Hey there, kiddo," he said softly, reaching to rescue the poor palm. He repeated his earlier actions, massaging the muscle with his thumb. "Was that what you dreamed about?"

Sam nodded and looked away from their hands. "I hated it. Cas found leftover grace in me after I evicted Gadreel, and I just wanted him to get it out! I couldn't stand the thought of him leaving something behind in me." His free hand started scratching at his neck, quickly leaving red streaks across the exposed skin.

This time, when Gabriel tried to reach for him, Sam jerked back. "No," he said with panic skirting the edge of his voice, "No, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"It's not so much about holding hands as it is keeping you from hurting yourself," Gabriel said calmly but didn't reach for him again. "Would it help to wear some gloves?"

Sam shuddered as he considered it, then shook his head. "No. It would be worse."

"Why worse?" he kept his tone curious and light.

"Because it cuts off sensation. Makes me feel stuck inside, unable to really feel things directly."

"That makes sense," Gabriel nodded, mind whirling, "Does pinching your palm and scratching help to feel things more clearly?"

Sam's eyes shot up to meet his, surprised to hear his behavior be understood by someone other than Dean. "That's one way of putting it."

"Hmm. What's another way?"

The boy shrugged even as he began to scratch absently at his forearm under the hoodie. "Things feel different in the real world. Or on Earth, anyway. I've spent a lot of time questioning what is real—even before the cage when Meg possessed me and I found out about Azazel bleeding into my mouth as a baby. It just seems like every time I turn around, someone is telling me that everything is either a lie or an illusion, or there's something wrong inside me. Part of me still expects to wake up in the cage with Lucifer telling me it was all just an elaborate game. Especially when reality reaches bizarre levels...like now."

Gabriel's jaw dropped open in shock. Holy shit, Cassie! Holy fucking shit! What in Dad's name...!? Did everyone just lose their fucking minds after the apocalypse?

There was a pause. Yes, frequently.

Did you know Sam still thinks he may be in the cage? Gabriel inhaled heavy through his nose.

I...no! No, he's never said...

And no one's ever asked him. It wasn't a question.

I do not know about others, but that is not a conversation I have had with him. Guilt bled through Castiel's true-voice.

Gabriel mentally waved off his little brother and concentrated on Sam. The kid was wringing his hands to keep from scratching, and he looked miserable. Standing, the archangel brushed out his pants and offered Sam a hand up. "Why don't we take us a morning stroll? I'll show you how to test reality with your grace in a way that doesn't hurt. Did you know we can talk to the trees?"

Sam's eyes lit up as he took Gabriel's hand.

Mary sat in the kitchen, nursing her third cup of coffee in silence. She had been waiting in the kitchen with Dean since he'd stopped her running toward Sam's now-familiar screams. All he would say was that Castiel told him to leave without giving an explanation.

"And Sammy? Was he...sparking?" she'd asked, wanting nothing more than to barge down the hall and into his room. The angels had told them to stand back a few times, but never to flat-out leave. And there hadn't been a whisper of noise coming from the bedroom area since they sat down which made her want to check it even more.

"Not when I first got there," Dean answered, worry etched into his frown, "He just looked mad. But then he zapped Gabriel pretty good, so maybe they knew it was coming?" He looked just as adrift as she felt. There was comfort in their shared confusion.

An hour later, they were still waiting and contemplating their dislike at being shut out. Castiel's sudden arrival startled Mary enough to send her coffee flowing across the table. The scrape of Dean's chair and half-yelled, "Jesus Christ, Cas! Wear a damn bell next time!" told her she wasn't the only one on edge.

"Mary," the angel nodded at her. Then, his eyes hardened and turned to her son, "Dean."

"What the Hell, man? Did I piss in your Wheaties this morning or what? What made you so mad overnight?" Dean scowled at his friend.

"I don't..." Castiel started, caught off guard by the unfamiliar reference, but quickly moved forward, "I am angry because I spent the morning convincing Sam he is not trapped in his own mind while under angelic possession."

Dean paled. "Gadreel?" his voice was tight.

Castiel nodded and some of his fire seemed to dim with an ancient exhaustion. A waved gesture removed the coffee from the table as he retrieved the pot to refill her mug. Pouring one for himself, he sat at the end of the table with the humans on either side. "Yes, Gadreel. Sam dreamed of him last night. I thought it best you not be there until he was fully awake."

"I don't think I've heard his name before," Mary said, trying hard to remember all the things she'd learned in the past week or so.

"We don't talk about him a lot," Dean mumbled as he scrubbed a hand over his face, "Couple years back, Sammy did something trying to save the world that almost killed him. I mean, he was seconds from being reaped by Death-himself when I found someone willing to help."

Castiel cut him off, his anger rekindling, "No. You put a distress call out to every angel who had just fallen to Earth, then gave consent to force possession on your brother to the first one who showed up. An angel who used Sam's body to murder friends and strangers. An angel who locked Sam inside a hallucination. Which led to you allowing the King of Hell to also possess your brother to convince Sam that Gadreel needed evicting. Consent of a vessel is a fundamental facet of an angel's existence. Even Lucifer abides by it."

Mary gaped at him but had no chance to say anything.

"I know, I know," Dean raised his hands in a placating manner, "I did things the wrong way. I should have been honest with him from the start, then a lot of things may have been different. You wouldn't have had to leave the bunker, for one. But Cas, he wanted to die!"

Something softened in Castiel's face at hearing Dean's obvious pain. "I am not arguing that you Winchesters are both incapable of perceiving your own self-worth. Less than two weeks ago, you walked into a confrontation with enough souls to destroy the Darkness. Do not be a hypocrite," he said the words as a plea.

Mary had learned about those events within minutes of encountering her oldest son in the cemetery, but it hadn't felt real then. Not when she was contemplating time travel and resurrection while wearing the nightgown she'd died in. Now, she knew each of them, saw how they cared about each other, and heard stories of the lengths they've all gone to save the others. What a desperate cycle of self-sacrifice and mourning these three have lived in for years... She realized Castiel was still talking and made herself pay attention.

"What I am saying is you need to understand the gravity of your actions two years ago if you desire any kind of reconciliation on the matter," Castiel paused and studied the man to his left. Mary was slowly growing accustomed to their stares, but it still unnerved her when they got too intense. "Dean," the angel said after a moment, "why do you think Sam is still so upset about that whole situation?"

Dean blinked, "Uh, I guess...it's because I lied to him. And I let an angel possess him, obviously."

"You both lie to each other on a constant basis. The possession was, in and of itself, a heinous violation—your repeated insistence that he is overreacting, however, not only belittles the act's impact on Sam but downgrades the scope of your own responsibility."

Mary watched Dean look up at the ceiling and silently mouth words to himself like he was trying to figure out what Castiel had just said. It took him a second before his face twisted in outrage. "You think I don't feel guilty enough for saving Sam's life? And I don't think he overreacts about Gadreel—I just think that, of all the things he's going to hold against me, I've done worse. Remember me chasing Sam with a hammer? All I'm saying is...I wish he didn't consider me saving his life a worse memory than all the times I've tried to kill him."

"Guilt is not the same as taking responsibility, Dean, I—hold on," the angel put up his hand and winced like he had a headache, "it's Gabriel."

Pushing her mug away, Mary struggled between the rising-heat of nausea and the urge to laugh hysterically. Every single morning since her resurrection, she woke up swearing that today would be the day. Today, there wouldn't be any new soul-crushingly terrible things from her boys' past to learn. It just wasn't possible for two people to survive so much. But each day she learned something new, and it always seemed worse than the previous tales.

Castiel sucked in a breath, signaling a return from 'angel-radio' with Gabriel. She looked up to see an unsettling devastation on the normally stoic face. He stood and paced a few steps before turning to gaze directly at Dean with...was that tears in his eyes? Mary had never considered whether or not angels were capable of crying, but seeing the answer now was incredibly upsetting for some reason.

"Did you know there are times when Sam still thinks he's in the cage?" Castiel asked, his voice the lowest she'd heard it.

"He what?!" Dean barely got the words out. He went from pale to gray and his earlier outrage vanished as he pushed back from the table like he might get up too. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on knees and head hanging down.

"Do you know what it means to question reality all the way down to your very existence? To have your sense of self stripped away until you've even lost your name? For someone else to impose their will over your mind and body? Because I do. Both by my own actions with the Leviathans and Lucifer, and the actions of others—Heaven's reprogramming and Rowena's spell. It is only now, as I rediscover more and more who I am, that I realize how much I lost in those moments." He took the seat next to Dean and held his hand out, saying, "I want to show you something."

"Like, 'travel to the past' show me something? Or 'we're gonna walk to the next room' show me something?" Dean asked skeptically, shaken from Castiel's revelations.

"I want to show you what your brother feels when he remembers Gadreel," the answered with his hand hovering steadily.

"Why?" Dean gulped and leaned away.

"Because while you say you don't believe he's overreacting, you do not have the understanding to appreciate how little Sam has reacted at all. Because you must have that understanding if Sam is ever going to trust you to not do it again. Because if you want your brother to choose life over death, you can't force him through something to which death is preferable."

They stared at each other, Mary forgotten. She could barely breathe through the heaviness in the room and in her heart. With her hand over her mouth, she tried not to let her knee bounce as she waited.

Finally, Dean nodded though his body shook with nerves. "Yeah, okay. Do it, Cas."

Castiel didn't immediately reach out, giving Dean a chance to change his mind. When her oldest son simply nodded again, the angel stood and walked behind Dean's chair. Leaning down, he placed his hand on Dean's chest, pulled him firmly back into his chair. Blue-eyes blazed with incandescent light. The effect was instant—Dean gave a strangled gasp that continued into a growling whine as his eyes grew wide in terror. His body jerked and flailed and would have fallen to the floor if not for Castiel's hand.

It was over in less than a few seconds. The light faded from Castiel's eyes and Dean collapsed against the angel's hand with half-sob, heaving breaths. Mary felt frozen—a helpless intruder.

Castiel dragged a chair closer and sat next to Dean without breaking contact with the man. "I'm sorry. I did not wish to hurt you."

"He was so scared," Dean whispered, grasping Castiel's hand to his chest, "And there was this pressure inside, and it...oh God, it felt so wrong!" Tears streamed over his cheeks unchecked. "It was everywhere, but there was no way to respond...no body, no arms or legs, to control. He was just so confused and scared and in pain. And I did that?

Castiel wiped the tears from Dean's cheeks with his thumb and gave a simple nod. "You facilitated the means for it to happen. However, you did not possess your brother yourself."

Dean snorted and his face morphed into self-disgust. "If I set someone up to be...violated by some asshole, I'm just as guilty as the asshole."

"I am relieved to hear you say that, Dean." Castiel said, removing his hands from the hunter and leaning back into his chair.

"You...what?" Dean said in utter confusion. He looked torn between whether he should calculate how offended he was allowed to be or accept Castiel's recrimination as penance for his crimes.

"I did not show you that as punishment. I showed you because you need to understand. Sam needs you to understand." The angel gave a small smile that was more of a grimace, "The issue of Gadreel will not fade into the background like it has in the past. Sam is different now—he can't compartmentalize his feelings and thoughts anymore. As he integrates more repressed memories into his consciousness, he may struggle with recognizing reality. He will never move past this if he continues to fear you repeating your actions. And that will always be his fear if you never acknowledge what your role cost him."

"Yeah, I get it now."

"You do?" There was no judgment or accusation in Castiel's voice.

"Well, you only showed me a flash of Sam's emotions, but I at least have an idea of how much I didn't get it before." Dean's green eyes shone with the weight of understanding, "But that was...I don't really have anything to compare it to. I still feel like I need to inject bleach into my veins to get clean. I mean, I've been cursed before—witches, Djinns, angels. I even got possessed by Eve's ear-slug and killed a hunter! But it didn't feel like that. I can't...if that's how he felt with Gadreel, I can't fucking imagine how it was with Lucifer. "

Castiel did grimace this time and looked over Dean's shoulder. "He is not an easy presence to co-exist beside."

"Shit, Cas," Dean whispered, then grew louder, "Shit! How much have I missed? How many times have I swept something aside when you two have felt like this?"

"It is not all the time, but there have been occasions where you did not, perhaps, see the extent of how something effected us." Castiel answered honestly, but with warmth.

"I don't..." he cut off with a sigh, "Can I ask you to not let me do that? I don't want to be that person, Cas. I've made a lot of mistakes over the years—some I'm still finding out about. We've talked about a few big ones, but we probably haven't even mentioned most. If dealing with Chuck's family drama taught me anything, it's the importance of making amends with those you've hurt. Especially if they're also the ones you've loved."

"And preferably before they break the universe," Castiel gave a smirk that had become more frequent since Gabriel's return.

Dean laughed sadly, "You're right. How many times have we gotten to that point, though? More than a few by my count."

"Yes," Castiel nodded, "But we've always managed to put it mostly back together."

"'You break it, you bought it?'"

"Something like that, although I do not wish to own the world. I do not make a very good god."

"I don't know anyone who really does."

They shared a smile, and then the angel wrapping Mary's son in a fierce embrace. The sight became blurred by tears as they sat there for a few minutes in silence that was comforting instead of tense. When they pulled apart, she wiped at her face and tried to smile.

Castiel looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. "Mary," he said as he stood and came to kneel next to her, "I apologize. It was unfair of me to exclude you so much from this conversation."

"It's okay, I wasn't really up to forming words for most of it anyway," she said while shakily straightening the angel's collar. His trench coat tended to always shift around on his shoulders without the angel knowing it. Or maybe he just never realized he could fix it.

Hands reached up to still her fingers and she saw him watching her with concern. "I'm sorry," he said it in a way that made her think he was apologizing for more than ignoring her.

"For what?" she asked, slightly baffled.

"I'm sorry that every day you learn a new way your sons were failed by those who should have protected them. Each of these events on their own could overwhelm a person—to hear of so many events in such a short period of time must be incredibly heavy. You are a very strong person, Mary Winchester. I can see where the boys get it from." His sincerity was always verging on shocking to experience.

"Well, thank you, Castiel," she said slowly, turning his words over in her head. It seemed absurd—to equate the deeds of these three heroic people with her ability to hide her internal panic. Mary was still floundering from moment to moment, barely keeping her head above water. She frequently caught herself gripped by a surge of certainty that her babies, the ones she'd left behind two weeks ago, needed her now. Then, Dean would laugh or Sam would scornfully berate Gabriel for some unbelievable hi-jinx, and she would remember that they survived. Without her by their side, they still managed to scrape by enough to make it to today.

"You are here now, and you are needed now," he said with a glance at Dean who was wiping his face with a cloth, "None of us can change the past, and we learn to adjust quickly because our futures change drastically here. But that does not mean we forget what we've lost—or who we've left behind."

"Yeah," she choked with images of John and the babies.

"Please let us know if you need something. Even if it's just someone to listen, or 'Netflix and chill.' That is one of my favorite coping mechanisms."

"I have no idea what a 'Netflix' is, but it sounds interesting," she smiled, humbled by the intriguing offer.

Castiel stood and gathered their cups to wash in the sink. "Neither did I, but—"

A blinding flash of white blasted the room and Mary screamed as she tried to cover her eyes. The sound of Dean's shout and glass breaking barely registered in the painful brightness. It ended just as quickly as it started and Mary held tightly to the table, blinking away the afterimage burned into her vision.

"Mom!" Dean barked. She heard him stumble into the table and felt the vibrations as it screeched across the floor. "Mom! You okay?!"

"Yeah, I think so," she felt disoriented, "What happened?"

"I don't know. Cas is gone and it looked like an angel banishing, but I've never heard of a sigil being effective from a distance. Which means someone may be in the bunker." He pulled open a kitchen drawer and pulled out two guns. Checking both with efficiency and speed, he handed one to Mary and motioned for her to follow.

"Are you sure he's okay? What if it..." she didn't want to say it out loud, frantic with worry for him and the others.

But Dean was shaking his head, "No, if an angel gets killed it burns their wings into the ground. Banishing angels is usually bright and flashy, but that was nuclear-level. I've never seen anything that strong. We need to find Sam and Gabriel."

Sam kicked up leaves on the trail back to the bunker. He always felt lighter after these sessions in grace-work and getting to listen to a tree's thoughts and words was his new favorite thing. It didn't even matter how much Dean was going to make fun of him because Sam was already planning on doing that again before nightfall. Maybe even a few times.

Gabriel was explaining the trees in different regions of the world, and how they all communicated in a unique way. When they entered their picnic clearing, his words cut off abruptly and it made Sam stop walking and look back at him. The archangel was staring ahead with a look of shock and horror on his face.

The woods lit up in an explosion of energy. Pain ripped through Sam and he fell to the ground. Screams poured from his throat as it suddenly felt like his grace-soul was trying to tear loose from his body. He laid, convulsing on the ground, unable to do anything but watch as a shockwave of light launched Gabriel's true-form into the atmosphere, barely contained in his vessel.

Slowly, the pain ebbed enough that his screams turned to sobs and he tried to breath through the pain. Footsteps crunched toward him and he tilted his head enough to see a man wearing a black suit coming closer. Sam's limbs spasmed uselessly and whimpers escaped with each tight breath. All of his senses were on fire and his brain felt like it had been shredded by a cheese grater.

"Well, look at you. Aren't you just an incredible delicious little thing?" The newcomer's voice was deep, though not as deep as Castiel's rumbling bass, but what stood out was the accent—British. Same as the woman who had shot him.

The man knelt by Sam's head and stared at him with curiosity and a dark spark of dangerous glee. A tattooed hand appeared in front of his eyes and firmly wrapped around Sam's jaw, tilting his head back. Sam kicked out with his feet, trying to push himself away from the hand but the grip was unyielding.

"None of that now, little halo," the voice soothed. Cold, smooth metal fell across his neck and Sam really started to panic. The hand lifted his head and the metal slipped underneath, sliding across his skin until a loud 'click' was heard. "Good boy! That'll keep ya from hurting yourself and others."

Oh God, it's a collar, Sam thought as the hand released his jaw and roughly pet his hair. It took him a moment to realize the collar's purpose. Gabriel had been getting Sam into the habit of using his grace to reach out and explore. But when he tried to reach toward the collar and man, there was nothing. His connection to his grace was gone. He could feel the grace sitting there under his skin, but not interact with it. Kinda like his limbs at the moment.

Whistling to himself, the man flipped Sam onto his stomach and cuffed his hands. The cold ground cut into his face as he felt cuffs snap onto his ankles. Then, his body was swung high into the air until his abdomen landing on the man's shoulder. It punched the air from his body and Sam almost vomited down the suit back. He half-wished he'd at least had coffee so he could spew something just out of spite.

They walked for a while through the woods, away from the road and bunker. Neither spoke, although for Sam it was less a personal choice and more the lack of breath he could get while being bounced on his stomach. They came out on a dirt road, little more than a wide trail. A black SUV sat parked in the brush. The man pressed a button on his keys and the trunk slowly slid open.

There were no back passenger seats in the vehicle. Instead, there was a heavy-duty animal pen built into the interior with bars covered in ancient symbols. "In ya go!" the man said cheerfully as he swung open the little door and dropped Sam onto his knees in front of it. A hand pushed between his shoulder blades and he fell into the cage. He heard the door latch and lock behind him. When he rolled onto his side and looked, the man had his hand on the trunk hatch and was staring at him with a cold smile. "Oh, I do love getting a new baby monster."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Whew! And we're off...
This is gonna be a long one, folks. Probably a bit more than a 3-part arc.

Hang in there, ya heathens! And leave me some comments...my soul is hungry...
But for reals, your words to me and our shared discussions fuel my work and birth ideas! Thanks for everything :)

TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING TWO CHAPTERS CONTAIN GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE.