THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
PART 5: THE STILL WATERS
Michael stretched in his new vessel, testing the limits between grace and flesh. He had rarely taken a physical body since their Father left Heaven unguided and slowly breaking. Most of his existence had been spent trying to regulate the angels and preparing for his showdown with Lucifer.
So much time wasted, he mourned, watching the Righteous Man slide to his knees next to the fledgling.
Before the cage, Michael had come to view humans as poorly as Lucifer. A failed leftover experiment of their Father's creation, they served a single purpose—birth the brothers meant to house the oldest two archangels. No one had been prepared for the vessels to defy their destiny. Or Sam Winchester's resolve against all the forces of Heaven and Hell.
The sight of Samuel, curled up on the seraph's lap and mapping freckles across his human brother's face, made Michael smile sadly. The child was captivating with his unique blend of grace and soul, both of which the archangel was intimately familiar. His Father's light flowed through the small body. It was the same light Michael saw when he was first formed. For an unmeasurable amount of time, it was the only light he knew until the Morningstar joined them in the unshaped universe. But Sam's soul—that was a light he remembered taking delight in dimming.
The thought turned Michael's grace and he cursed how it translated in the vessel as a feeling of nausea he couldn't entirely block out. His Father had designed it to perfectly fit the archangel and allowed for a depth of connection that defied his previous experiences entombed in skin. It was supposed to bind him to humanity on a physical level, but mostly it left him feeling sick and off-kilter. Especially the physical responses to guilt and sorrow that trailed him since the cage.
Voices from Heaven cut through his musings. He had intercepted a garrison attempting to approach their location after Gabriel and Castiel left to join Raphael against Lucifer. The warriors went from frantically responding to the fledgling's cry for help to flabbergasted at finding their commander alive and free. It had been easy convincing them to return and wait for him, but now they grew impatient. And word of his return was spreading through the Host as more and more voices joined the clamor.
Focusing back on the reunion playing out in front of him, he saw the bonds of love that tied these humans and angels together. They cared for each other deeply—as they should. Is it too late? Can we still make things different? he wondered. This family gave him hope.
He cleared his throat, hesitant to draw attention to himself, and spoke in English out of respect for the humans. "Brothers, I must leave. A team of very confused angels are about to mutiny. I have kept them from descending upon us for now, but I think it best I return to Heaven. There is much to explain and do. Raphael will accompany you back to your nest, Gabriel. To ensure everyone's safety and provide assistance with healing if needed."
There was a gasp and Michael saw the blonde woman's face crumple. He recognized her as she moved toward him. She was older than the last time. He held still when she reached a hand to his face, but she pulled it back before they touched.
"Why do you look so young?" she asked, brokenly.
Michael smiled, "Hello, Mary."
The sound of his voice saying her name made her recoil and she stepped back to her huddled family. "You aren't John." It wasn't a question.
"No, I am not John Winchester," he said gently, gesturing at his torso and keeping his distance, "and he is not in this vessel with me. I am Michael, Commander of the Host of Heaven, at your service. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you and your family safe. But for now, I shall keep my distance." He met the terrified hazel eyes peeking around the seraph's shoulder, "I have not earned a place of welcome or trust here yet, so I shall not linger."
"What of the wretches inside?" Raphael asked, and Michael heard the thread of anger running below the words.
"They come with me," his voice turning hard as they moved around the group to enter the garage. He had not gone inside yet, and he felt the need to see with these new eyes the place and people involved here. This was personal. And if there was a plot against the Winchesters, then it would be sought out and sundered.
"Stay here with Cas, Sammy, okay? I'll be right back. Gabe's gonna stay with you too, and so is Mom." Michael heard Dean whisper, then jog to join them. "I want to see them," his true-vessel said, eyes flashing a furious green.
Michael nodded in understanding. He saw Raphael retrieve something from the grass and then they walked inside. The place reeked of old death and ozone. Smoke hung in the air and he was startled when it burned his eyes. Blinking to clear the unfamiliar sensation, he turned to Raphael.
"There was a holy oil fire," the Healer explained, "It was small—already out by the time I arrived, but the smoke is highly irritating."
"They kept him in a ring of holy fire?" Dean demanded to know.
"No," Raphael said, ringing with regret, "They used it to burn his grace through the sole of his foot."
Michael felt a surge of enraged fire run over his wings, but the human spoke first. "And they're still alive?" he said in a tone low and dangerous. Michael was pleased to hear an impressive amount of threat in it.
"The man is almost gone, but the woman did not sustain any mortal injuries," Raphael reported as they stepped into a room reminiscent of Hell.
There were echoes of pain and fear that lingered in the frozen space. Hard gleaming metal and pools of water reflected the flashing lights. Michael flicked a finger and shut off the sprinklers and alarms.
Mickey, reign it in! Gabriel's voice sounded frustrated, Sam can feel your temper, and now Cassie's having to calm him down.
I am sorry, brother. Michael winced at the thought of adding to the boy's misery and quickly cooled his anger.
I know. And I'm sure I wouldn't be much better if I was in there seeing...whatever that was. Just...you may not want to come back out when you leave. Sam can't take seeing you again.
Michael felt the layers of Gabriel's regret and simply replied, I understand. He took in the ruined equipment and score-marks seared across every surface. In the center of it all sat a cage with two humans.
"What will you do with them?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.
"They will be interrogated, and when we have what we need, their souls shall be delivered to Hell. Their fates were sealed the second they touched Samuel—abuse of a fledgling is a crime never before imagined, let alone committed, and it will carry a strict sentence," Michael answered, "Until I settle the garrisons, they can sit in Heaven's prison and wait. In the meantime, I shall send a team to patrol your area. They will keep watch from a distance without intruding. Should you wish to continue hunting dangerous creatures, they will not interfere, but nothing will come within striking distance of your nest."
"Protection whether we want it or not? Awesome," the human sighed.
"You would turn away safety measures available to you?" Raphael tilted his head as he spoke, "Your brother was also adamantly opposed to assistance. Is this a human-thing?"
"No," Dean snorted and dragged a hand through disheveled hair, "it's a trust thing. As in, we don't trust you." There was a pause and the man dropped his arm and exhaled noisily. "But I can't stop you."
"I do not wish for these actions to upset you." Micheal tried to explain.
"Hearing my brother scream your name in his sleep upsets me," Dean said coldly, then looked away and shook his head at the sight of the room, "And if wishes were horses...well, we'd have a fuck-ton of horses and still be covered in shit."
The phrase was meaningless to the archangel, but he understood the first part. "I have done irreparable harm to Samuel for which I may never be able to atone. I will not force my presence on him or any of your flock unless you call on me."
"Good. Stay away. Use angel radio to talk to Gabriel, or better yet, learn to use a phone. But no surprise visits and I don't want to see so much as a feather on my lawn from your patrols. Understood?" the Righteous Man ordered the Commander of Heaven.
Michael stared in some awe of his true-vessel. How had he missed seeing this fire before? Truly, the world would have burned had Dean ever consented. "Yes, I understand," he said with a nod, "I must go."
"Take this with you," Raphael handed him the object he'd picked up in the yard. The smooth wood felt unpleasantly hot in his hand.
"What is it?"
"A branch of the sacred Sisters' Olive trees," the Healer stated.
Michael frowned as he studied the rod. "But why...?"
"They used it against the child. It inflicts terrible pain on our grace," Raphael winced and rubbed the back of his hand, "Samuel lashed out with it when he believed I would harm him."
Michael quelled the urge to incinerate the wood. Instead, he nodded again. "Take care of them, brother. I will see you in Heaven when you have finished," he turned to the hunter who looked green, "I take my leave, Dean Winchester. Be well. I am sure we will meet again."
And without waiting for a reply, Michael flew home with the prisoners.
Gabriel stayed beside Sam when his brothers and Dean went into the building. Castiel was right—while there was nothing life-threatening, the boy was definitely not alright. Shock made his hazel eyes unnaturally bright and his body was littered with injuries that went below the skin. Gabriel could see the bruised grace that rolled restlessly. And now that Dean was out of sight, Sam was digging at his left palm with renewed vigor.
"Hey Sammy," he sung lowly, "Easy there, kiddo." He tapped fingertips against the back of Sam's offending hand. Exhaustion slowed the boy's response, but eventually he looked down where Gabriel's fingers touched him. "I know you're pretty overwhelmed right now. We're going home soon, I promise. So let's not add to the list of things that need healing, okay?"
"Why does he do that?" Mary asked, still shaky and pale from seeing John's face.
Castiel answered her first. "It is a grounding technique he uses when he is unsure of his ability to discern reality." He gently pried Sam's hands apart and substituted his own for the boy to press on, "I imagine it will take time for him to recognize that he is, in fact, safe."
Gabriel stood from the bench and allowed Mary to sit next to her son. She perched on the edge like it may collapse under her presence. Her hands twitched several times, almost reaching for the boy but she kept stopping herself. "Hey Sammy," she gave him a watery smile. They watched as Sam slowly lifted his gaze to his mother and soaked in the sight of her face.
Resting his head against Castiel's chest, Sam managed a tentative smile back. Gabriel let out a breath and crouched down by them. He needed to assess Sam's injuries and sort out what needed immediate care. "Sam," Gabriel said and waited until he had the kid's attention, "I need to take a look at your foot, okay?" Sam shook his head and tried to tuck his feet under the bench. "I know, it's the last thing you want right now, but I need to see how bad it is. It's a long enough drive to get home without you sitting in agony, and I can't fly us with your wings in their state. So, please, may I see your foot? I promise not to touch without..."
He trailed off when Sam suddenly sat up. Curls swirled around as he twisted his head to look over his shoulders. The movement made him wince but he still used his free hand to reach behind him. Gabriel grabbed it and drew Sam's focus back to him. "What's wrong, Sam? Are they hurting you? I-I've never seen a fledgling manifest them so early..."
Sam shook his head and swallowed before trying to talk again. "Wings?"
Gabriel calculated what words were missing from the sentence as was usually the case when Sam spoke Enochian. Are they okay? What are they doing? "What about them, Sammy? Can you try English?"
The boy was breathing too quickly as he struggled to speak, "What wings?"
They had discussed the stages of development for angels once, but no one had been sure how closely Sam would follow them. Wing development, however, was supposed to be off the table for a few more centuries. Which was probably why Sam looked so freaked out...
"Oh," Gabriel whispered, glancing at Castiel who also seemed to realize that Sam didn't know what had happened, "Um, right. So, that feeling between your shoulder blades? That pressure pulling at your spine? It seems like you sprouted some wing buds a little ahead of schedule."
"Sam has wings?" Mary asked, trying to look over Sam's shoulder, "I don't see anything."
"They are rarely visible to humans," Castiel answered, "And his are very...small."
Mary glanced to Gabriel when she heard something in Castiel's tone. He sighed, "They are a little underdeveloped but I think that's to be expected considering how early they've come. I'll talk to Raphael about it, but I'm sure they just need time and nurturing." He couldn't help but think how that was exactly what Sam needed too.
A flare of anger bled through Gabriel's bond with Michael and he shuddered to think of what had his oldest brother so furious. Castiel met his eyes and he knew the seraph had felt it too. They weren't expecting Sam to tense up and turn into Castiel's shirt with a whimper. "Shh, Sam, he is not angry with you," the angel murmured, gathering the fledgling closer. "He'll be leaving soon and you don't have to see or talk to him, I promise."
Gabriel knew there was no looking at Sam's foot until Michael left. He sent a quick thought to his brother, letting him know that he should avoid returning outside to them and to keep a lid on his emotions. Looking around, he tried to figure out a way to distract Sam. "Do one of you fine humans happen to have water with you? And maybe a blanket?"
"Sure do," the short-haired sheriff said.
"Fantastic. Cassie, how about you sit with him in the Impala. Might make him more comfortable," he directed before following the woman back to the Jeep. Mary and the two bronze bombshells stayed with them.
"What is happening, Gabriel?" Mary asked in a hushed voice, not understanding what had upset Sam.
"It's Michael—something made him pretty angry in there and Sam felt the backlash. I just want to get him somewhere comfy and quiet and familiar."
"And why can't you fly us back to the bunker?" Mary frowned as the sheriff handed her a blanket.
"Because those tiny wings are way too sensitive right now to handle flying. I think burning him with holy oil may have jump-started their growth, but they didn't fully emerge. Like they're still trapped in a metaphysical membrane. They're gonna need some work."
"We didn't know what state we'd find Sam in," said the young woman.
"So we also brought juice and a chocolate protein drink," the young man followed.
"Just in case," they ended together.
"Mary, you think we can keep them? Please? I'll feed them and everything," Gabriel begged as they returned to the Impala with all the supplies.
"We'll talk about it," she returned with a hint of a smile.
Castiel sat on the back passenger side, with Sam's head resting in the crook of his elbow. The boy laid on his side, facing the angel's chest. One dark wing stretched around them in warmth and protection without touching skin. Blue eyes looked relieved at the sight of them.
"Hey kids, how's it going over here?" Gabriel said with a soft cheerfulness as he slid next to them behind the driver's seat, being sure to duck under the feathers. Mary got into the front and turned to face them.
"His right leg has an injury that is too painful to take his weight if he lays on that side. And he does not find leaning back against anything tolerable," Castiel reported. He was holding his left arm awkwardly above Sam's face, and slowly working his fingers through the tangled hair.
Gabriel looked pointedly at his brother's posture, then raised an eyebrow in question.
He is in a lot of pain and very tired. I believe it makes him feel safe. Castiel told him silently.
It's instinct, Gabriel sighed, When children get scared, they cocoon. If they can't fight or run, they hide.
But Sam is not mentally a child.
He has the grace of a child. Gabriel insisted. Very young grace that is hurting and nervous.
Castiel nodded in understanding. He has not spoken since asking about his wings.
"Hmm," Gabriel considered their options and opened a bottle of apple juice, "Sammy, do you want something to drink? I've got some juice here." Castiel lifted his elbow slightly so they could see the small head shake in answer. "Okay, how about a blanket?" Another shake of his head. Castiel lowered his arm when the boy's body began to tighten.
Perhaps we should just let him rest for a minute. Hopefully, Dean will be able to ground Sam and get him to respond on a verbal level, Castiel suggested.
Suddenly, Michael's presence vanished from the area and some of the tension in the air eased. Well, that should certainly help things, Gabriel mused. Within seconds, Dean and Raphael were exiting the building. The hunter stalked toward them with murder in his eyes. Okay, I'm gonna head him off, Gabriel told Castiel as he slid out of the car.
"Deano, hold up," he said, running up to the man.
"What?" Dean practically snarled.
"Just take a breath there, big guy. You're gonna send your brother into hysterics if you go near him like this," Gabriel settled his hands on the hunter's shoulders and used his strength to let the man know this wasn't a suggestion.
"You didn't see..." Dean started, half blinded by tears of rage.
"I don't need to see what is inside that building to know what was done to Sam," Gabriel said seriously, "And because we both know some of what he went through, it's up to us to stay calm and let Sam know it will not happen again. Right?"
Dean blinked and his eyes focused on the archangel. It took a moment for the words to push past his anger, but when they did he exhaled slowly and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. Gabriel left one hand to pat the broad shoulders as the man collected himself. Raphael stood close and waited. Finally, Dean straightened back up. "Right," he answered in a much calmer voice, "You're right. How's he doing?"
"Not talking. In pain and trying to hide. Almost tore a hole in his palm with his thumb when he couldn't see you." Gabriel gave him the honest rundown. Dean would read the same with his own eyes in an instant anyway—there was no sugar coating it. "I need to look at his foot. That burn will take some serious healing when we get back, but I can at least stop the pain until we do."
Dean nodded, wiped at his face, and got into the car next to his brother.
Gabriel felt Raphael step next to him. "I was under the impression that these are not normal situations for humans to be in. Yet there seems to be a routine here," the Healer observed.
"Have you met the Winchesters?" Gabriel returned, scrunching his face in disbelief. Turning, he got a good look at his brother. The Healer's new vessel suited him.
"Dean Winchester was not surprised to hear any of his brother's symptoms. These are not new behaviors, then?"
Gabriel sighed and reached a hand to his brother's forehead. He showed Raphael images of the past two weeks—stories of sacrifices made since the apocalypse, and the suffering the Winchesters had endured as a consequence.
Raphael gasped at the new knowledge. "I see."
Sam wanted to stay where it was dark and warm. His head pounded with each heartbeat, stuck replaying the moment he saw Lucifer's light radiating out of Vince Vicente's body. And how the Morningstar's icy grace suddenly clashed with Michael's burning wrath.
He vaguely heard someone ask a question and the darkness lifted to flood his face with light. The question was unimportant—the answer was 'no' regardless. It was the only safe answer to give to faceless voices. Shaking his head didn't help the forming migraine, but he made himself respond. Anything to make the world go away. The light left him exposed and he curled up tighter to compensate.
When the dark fell like a curtain again, the tightness in his chest loosened enough to let him breathe. As long as he didn't move, Sam could drift in the dulled pain that stretched past his body. It was blissfully disconnecting—being pulled beyond his physical self. The sensation was as close to dissociating as he could get now. If the memories of the cage would fade as well, it might allow him to truly separate himself from what had happened.
Someone else joined them, but this person's voice cut through the layers keeping the world at bay. "Sammy? I'm back, little brother. Can you sit up for me? Come on, dude, sit up and drink some juice. It's apple, the kind you like. Come on. No smothering in Cas' shirt, alright?"
The arm holding Sam's head slowly raised him up despite his best attempts to stay concealed. Hands adjusted him so he sat sideways on a lap with a large arm wrapped around his waist. Sam tried to keep his face covered with his own arms, but familiar fingers took hold of his hands and brought them down, working to unclench his fists. Anxiety closed his throat and he heard himself whine in fear of being restrained again.
"Hey, hey...it's just me. Open your eyes, Sam. Please?" Sam felt his right hand get passed to someone else. Then, a single finger traced down the bridge of his nose. He jerked his head back but he couldn't go far with the arm holding him in place. There was a pause, and Sam kept his eyes firmly clenched.
The feather-light touch repeated and Sam started to relax into the bizarre but painless motion. Memories shifted from the cage to when he was actually six years old, laying in bed and pretending to sleep while his ten year old brother tried to wake him. It was their morning ritual to see how many swipes it took to make Sam smile and admit defeat.
Dean's voice was inches away from his face and Sam smelled coffee on his breath. "Saaammy, you know you want to look at my perfectly chiseled face, so open those eyes and soak it up. Come on, dude, I'll let you pick the music in the car for a month. Saaam...if you open your eyes, we can get a dog..."
Sam's eyes snapped open to see a startled Dean drop his jaw. But it was the angel's reaction that made the concession worth it.
Castiel gasped and every muscle in the vessel tensed. "Really?" he asked, a little breathless with excitement. Pure joy wrapped around them as it sang through Castiel's grace and shimmered across his feathers. Sam didn't have to turn to know the look Dean was getting from enormous blue eyes.
Dean huffed a laugh that was exasperated and fond, "Figures that's what would get your attention. And you," he threw a look at Castiel, "calm it down before you need a puppy pad." His finger continued trailing from Sam's forehead to the tip of his nose, never increasing its pressure.
"I do not understand that reference."
Sam felt the corner of his mouth lift a little with each pass—just like his brother had trained him to do in their early years.
"Yeah, well thanks to Mr. Selective-Listening here, you will," Dean's smile mirrored Sam's own, slowly growing in strength. "Morning, Little Sammy Sunshine. You awake in there now?"
If fingers on his nose formed their childhood ritual, then those words were the closing chant. Nostalgia spread through Sam with such a swell of safety that he felt his eyes burn. He nodded when Dean continued to gaze at him, clearly waiting for a response.
"Good deal," he let go of Sam's hand to pull a bottle of apple juice from the floor and twist it open, "I need you to drink some of this. Can you do that? Or do you want water?"
Sam grimaced and wrapped his free arm around his queasy stomach.
"Have you had any food or drink since...you left?" Dean asked, sounding confident he already knew the answer. Sam shook his head. "I didn't think so. You need the hydration and the sugar, dude. That's why your stomach hurts. I've got some crackers in the glove box too. Here, just a few sips."
The bottle was held up to his cracked lip and Sam felt the cold liquid slosh against the dry skin. He pulled back to lick it off and the tart sweetness of the juice hit him all at once. Suddenly, he wanted more and Dean saw the change. He brought the drink back and carefully let Sam drink from it.
"Easy there, small sips. You know guzzling it will make you sick." Half the bottle was gone before Dean drew it away. "Okay, let's see how that sits with you for a minute and then you can have the rest. Are you feeling more awake?"
Sam looked around and recognized where he was for the first time. Mary sat watching them from the front seat and she lit up when he faced her. He returned the smile and was surprised at how easy it was to do so. Peering out the back window and saw a group of people including...Jody Mills? He turned to Dean with a bewildered expression, silently asking the question.
Dean waited a second, like he was hoping Sam might speak, but then simply grinned and nodded, "Yeah, Jody's here. We got sealed into the bunker and had to call for help. And she brought some friends. You'll like them. Twins, who were raised by a witch and a hunter. They're how we found you."
Movement drew his attention to the space through the open door behind Dean and Gabriel crouched down by them. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the archangel said in relief, "What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?"
He started to nod eagerly, but then he remembered what was still out there past the cars and yard. Sam's eyes darted to the building and a cold chill swept over him. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing Castiel's hand. His gaze shifted between the clinic and his brother, hoping he'd understand.
Luckily, Gabriel read his expression as well. "They're gone, Sam. Heaven has them in custody and you will never see them again." There was a finality to his tone that rang with power and confidence. Sam didn't know if he believed it but he sure wasn't going back in to check. All he wanted now was to leave and get far away from this place. He gave Gabriel a short nod.
Dean grinned, "Perfect. I say we go home, eat a shit-ton of leftovers, and sleep for a week." He started to slide out of the car when Sam reached out and clutched his sleeve, pulling him closer. "Whoa. What's wrong?"
But Sam couldn't answer. He was too distraught over the idea of Dean leaving his sight for even a second. Even just to move to the front seat. If Dean left, reality always followed until Sam was alone again in the frozen dark. He wrenched his hand away from Castiel and grabbed at his brother's collar.
"I believe he'd prefer you stayed with him," Castiel said with a smile, already moving to shift Sam into Dean's arms.
"But who's gonna..." Dean started to ask even as he automatically gathered Sam closer.
"Mary can drive the Impala. I will sit up front so Gabriel can provide assistance or healing. Be sure you do not touch his shoulder blades. They are too painful and sensitive for him to handle any pressure." Castiel laid out the solutions calmly and no one could argue against them. He opened the car door and climbed out, gently closing it as Dean scooted over to take his seat. Leaning into his brother, Sam allowed the scent of gunpowder and cheap soap to surround him.
"I'll be right back too," Mary said quietly and slipped out of the car.
Gabriel carefully got in next to them. Gathering a folded blanket, the archangel placed it on his own lap. "While Cassie rounds up the troops, how about I take a peek at that foot, hmm?" He patted the blanket casually but the look in his eyes betrayed his nervousness.
Sam tried to tuck his toes away from view, but Dean sided with the archangel. "Listen, dude, it's a three hour drive if I'm at the wheel. Probably longer with Mom driving. I know you don't want to be fooled with, but this isn't something I can fix with some burn cream. So let's get you comfortable and then Gabe can do his 'hair-brushing' thing on your foot, okay?"
There was a moment of internal struggle. Sam's impulses were all firing in contradiction to each other. He didn't want to be touched, yet the mere thought of sitting alone had him clinging harder to his brother's shirt. He couldn't bring himself to talk, but each second of silence made encroaching memories unbearable. He wanted to hide from all angels and go against his grace that even now was searching for comfort.
"Please, Sam. You don't need to be in pain," Gabriel pleaded softly. His eyes were already swirling with gold grace.
Sam felt his own respond with a strong tug in his chest and he swallowed hard. "I ask, you stop?" he whispered hoarsely. The archangel's eyes widened in delight at the sound of his voice. Sam blushed, feeling like talking was such a ridiculous thing to get stuck on. Usually, only Dean witnessed his mute periods on their worst days.
"I will absolutely stop," Gabriel assured with a smile, echoing his words from their first time grooming.
Sam studied the archangel before consenting. "Okay."
Gabriel's relief was tangible as he exhaled in a noisy rush of air. "Oh thank Dad!" he whispered to the car roof, then turned golden orbs on Sam, "Alright, prop your toesies up right here. I'm need to see what we're dealing with first. I'll ask before I touch anything, okay?"
Slowly, Sam turned and laid on his side, letting Dean's arms support him the same way Castiel had done. Once he was ready, he brought his legs up and placed them tenderly on the blanket. The movement sent flares of hot pain along his bones, and he hissed through his teeth.
"Oooow!" Gabriel grimaced at the seared sole, "That's no little suntan. Physically, this is a solid third-degree burn. But it goes all the way to your grace. That's what hurts so bad—the nerves are gone but your grace still feels it all."
"Can you heal it?" Dean worried.
"Bodies aren't a problem. Grace is a lot more complicated and takes longer to heal. I may need to consult with a professional," Gabriel glanced out the window and surprise flashed across his face. Sam followed his gaze to see Raphael walking into the building again—with Castiel and Mary. "But for now, may I use a bit of grace here, Sam?"
Sam fidgeted nervously. He knew Gabriel was referring to the other archangel, and he wasn't ready to let the stranger close enough to touch. "Only you?" he asked, barely audible against Dean's shirt.
"Yes, only me. We'll talk about the next steps in your healing later, after we're home and more comfortable. Right now, it's just you and me and Deano. Your mom and Cas will be back in a minute. Okay?"
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
Gentle fingers wrapped around Sam's right ankle, holding firm when he automatically kicked. "Only me, Sam." A cool breeze flowed into his body, calming the raw nerves. Sam's grace gathered high in his chest and shoulders, coiling away from the intrusion. "It is alright. Breathe nice and slow for me. Good, very good. No need to push—your grace is confused and upset. Just breathe and relax. It will remember me."
Sam wanted to ask what that meant but he was too focused on breathing around the pressure in his chest. The moving current eased the muscles in his legs and billowed through his body, skirting the balled-up grace. Eventually, the tight bundle of energy seemed to realize that Gabriel was not there to cause pain. It unwound itself enough to tentatively reach toward the archangel and Sam suddenly understood Gabriel's phrasing. There was a surge of electric joy as it rushed to meet him, swirling around the ancient power that patiently allowed the frenzied reaction. He heard the deep chuckle that echoed under Gabriel's human voice. "I missed you too, Samuel."
Gradually, his grace calmed under the steadying influence of the archangel. Cool, healing energies alleviated the throbbing in his right thigh where he'd been kicked. Pain dissolved into memory, leaving only a pleasant tingling in its place. He reveled in the sensation and felt the fear of the last twenty-four hours finally start to yield.
Hesitantly, Sam tried to allow himself to accept the possibility of all this being real. 'Where exactly did you think you were going? How long do you think you can hold out?' He took a shuddering breath and gulped in Dean's scent.
Gabriel responded to the spike in turmoil by increasing the flow of grace. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe now. Here comes Cassie and your mom. Looks like we're ready to go." Sam felt doped up with his buzzing skin and lack of discomfort. The archangel was definitely more effective than whatever prescriptions they kept stocked. He heard the front doors open and the car rocked as the others got in. "Hey you two! Are we good to go?"
"Yep," Mary sounded shaky, "Jody's gonna lead the way back to the bunker. I don't trust a computer giving directions from your phone. Plus, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to push our chances of getting stopped by the police for recklessly driving at excessive speeds."
"Raphael will follow from the sky," Castiel added. There was a pause, and then he asked, "How is he?"
"Doing better. He's letting me take care of the pain."
Fatigue weighed heavy in Sam's limbs, but his mind felt almost too light as it flitted around. Thoughts refused to settle on any one thing. He shifted around every few minutes just to know he could. And to keep his circulation going—staying still invited the chill to creep back into his extremities.
The engine roared to life, sending vibrations through the air. Sam sighed as they started moving. The Impala's purr blended with Gabriel's grace-hum and his brother's heartbeat to wrap him in music better than a lullaby.
Gabriel watched Sam calm at the rumble of the engine. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Castiel that fledglings liked to cocoon when upset, but it wasn't entirely an emotional response. Young grace was hypersensitive and easily overstimulated. Buffering their sensory input was a built in coping mechanism for when things got to be too much.
Traditionally, caretakers swaddled the stressed child in grace until its hum was all they heard. It never failed to calm the younger angels, but Gabriel didn't think the boy would tolerate being wrapped in grace like that yet. Instead, he shared a smile with Castiel as Sam responded to the Impala like she was his caretaker.
"Is he asleep?" Mary whispered.
Dean let out a quiet laugh, "Are you kidding? We'll be lucky if the four of us manage to get him to sleep by tomorrow morning." Sam frowned into his brother's shirt as Dean brushed the sweaty mess of hair away from Sam's face. "Sometimes, he can't shut off after intense shit. It was easier before we had the bunker. When we lived in the Impala between motel rooms and he got like this, I could just drive around until he conked out."
The boy blinked up at his brother's face where a light blush accompanied the admission. Dean gave him a goofy grin and kept brushing his hair. Sam shot back with a better bitch-face than Gabriel thought possible under the circumstances. "God, don't forget my bottle when you have to rock me," he slurred, which voided any ground made with his scowl.
The car swerved slightly as Mary gave a startled laugh. "Sorry! I wasn't expecting that."
Gabriel joined with his own giggles and they all sounded borderline hysterical. "I think someone is cranky," He teased and allowed some of that giddiness to echo over his connection with Sam—not to change the boy's mood, but to reassure him with some lightheartedness.
"I think I'm allowed to be cranky," Sam mumbled but his lips firmed like they were fighting a grin. Gabriel felt him become restless now that his eyes were open.
"Speaking of bottles," Dean pulled the juice from where it sat wedged in the seat, "How's the stomach doing? You want more to drink?"
"Yeah. I want to sit up," Sam said and struggled to make his boneless limbs work.
"Hold on. Let me, you tiny drunk. I got ya." Dean's words were gruff, but his touch was soft. He and Gabriel worked together to get Sam upright and supported. Once vertical, the boy took his time blinking owlishly at everyone. Castiel had turned around in the front seat and Mary was white-knuckling the steering wheel while sneaking glances through the rear-view mirror. Dean held the bottle out and Gabriel unscrewed the lid—neither of them willing to give up the hand connected to Sam.
"Gabe," Sam said after a few drinks, "you may need to dial it back a few notches. I think it's a lil' strong."
Gabriel frowned, "Are you sure? I'm already using less than you need." If they were in Heaven, a soldier with wounds like Sam would have been placed in a healing trance. But the kid didn't trust on that level.
"Dean's right, 'm slurring," he shook his head as though to clear it, "Can't con-conc...pay 'tention."
Castiel leaned closer over the seat, "What do you need to concentrate on?"
Sam tilted his head and tried to focus on the blue eyes, "What?"
"Why do you need to pay attention?" he reiterated.
The boy seemed distressed over the question. He gazed around the car, stopping on Gabriel. "Cassie's trying to tell you that it's okay to not concentrate on things. There are enough people here to be on guard for you."
"No," Sam insisted, "I can't think straight. There are others...what if they..."
Gabriel looked at Dean, unsure of what Sam needed to hear. The hunter was already on it, "Sam, you can't think straight because you're tired and injured. Have you slept at all?"
Sam shrugged and dropped his gaze to where Gabriel still held his ankle. "Got knocked out for a bit. Dunno how long."
"Unconsciousness ain't the same as sleep. Did your skull get cracked?" Dean asked while searching his brother's scalp for injury.
"My head hit a few things," Sam answered quietly without looking up, "but I passed out—they burn'd my foot. When I woke up, everything had exploded 'round me and they were on the floor."
Gabriel was more convinced that the holy fire was the cause of Sam's grace explosion and wing development. He almost wished he had gone into the building to pay the bastards a visit, but Sam was his priority now—not vengeance. "That doesn't sound fun. What did they want?" He kept his tone light and started to rub the boy's ankle, pushing more healing energy into the foot while he still was allowed.
Sam shuddered and fear skittered along their connection. "Me to obey," he whispered after a few heartbeats of silence, "He was mad I tried to run."
Dean made a face. "Well, they didn't know you very well if they expected you to behave," he said with a huff and pulled the boy closer. "That's never been the Winchester way."
"They did, though," Sam said distantly, "They knew all of us. Knew our names and faces. Knew I had grace. Knew Mom and Gabe were back. He watched us for days. They got other angels before n'studied 'em. They've weapons and knowledge. They said..."
"What did they say, Sam?" Dean asked calmly. Gabriel felt the anxiety rise though Sam and saw him resume digging into his palm. Whatever these people had said or done, it was enough to make the boy question reality. "Hey," Dean intervened by placing his own between the two tiny hands, "I'm right here, remember? Stone number one. We got you out, Sam. You're safe, okay?"
The words sounded like an often repeated mantra between the two. Sam sniffed and looked up at his brother. Trembling worked its way down his arms as he confessed, "They said you and mom were dead. That they'd killed you both, and I'd never see Gabe or Cas again."
"You...you thought we were all dead?" Dean went still and pale.
Sam tried to shrug but it came out more like a full-body shudder. "I dunno. I saw Gabe get blown 'way by somethin' powerful. And when no one showed up right away, I knew the blast had got'n Cas too. I'd no way of knowing 'bout anyone."
"Well, obviously they lied because we're all fine," Dean said into Sam's hair.
Sam was flushed and Gabriel felt the boy's grace begin to churn out heat. The archangel acted immediately, cooling the energies to try and balance it out. He couldn't tell if it was the burn affecting it or if the grace was responding to something else. There were too many possibilities between his wings manifesting, sleep deprivation, and torture. The problem was the lack of precedent here.
Gabriel, he looks ill. Can fledglings get sick? Castiel's worry echoed the archangel's own.
Not the ones made and raised in Heaven—they never suffered more than a bruise from clumsy flying. But they also never had pieces of a human soul melded with their grace. Or been tortured into growing wings this early. No angel has ever even had a vessel to feel things physically until they were fully grown. We're dealing with a lot of firsts here. Gabriel started making a mental list of things to discuss with Raphael as soon as possible.
"You're feeling a little warm there, dude. You okay?" Dean's voice brought them back to the present.
"C-cold," was all Sam could stammer out as he tried to get closer to his brother.
"Aww, man, you're pouring sweat," the hunter looked torn between concern and disgust as the boy grew frustrated at not finding enough heat, "Gabe, what's wrong with him?"
"His grace is ramping up heat, but I don't know why. I'm trying to cool it down, but it's fighting me." Gabriel explained even as Sam's grace tried to pull away from him.
With grace so young, how would it react if cut off from conscious guidance and placed in near freezing conditions? Castiel asked silently. Gabriel could almost hear the wheels spinning in the seraph's mind.
Freezing conditions? He saw the blue eyes harden and bit his tongue to keep from reacting to the depth of anger and sadness found there.
The room was thirty-eight degrees. I am sure that even without a connection, his grace would recognize the threat to its vessel.
You think his grace is instinctively still trying to warm him up? Gabriel perked up at the theory.
Or it's reacting to the memory of cold. Sam associates low temperatures with Lucifer, which may be complicating things, Castiel speculated, looking back at the boy. "Sam, was it very cold where they kept you?" the seraph asked gently. Sam's body tensed and Gabriel felt the heat increase. He nodded at Castiel.
"You think it made him sick?" Dean asked, unaware of the angels' silent conversation.
"We think his grace is confused and can't recognize that the danger of freezing has passed," Gabriel explained, "I'm going to try something. If it doesn't work, though, we're gonna have to stop and get Raphael."
Dean startled at the seriousness of the statement. They all knew Gabriel wouldn't delay their journey home and involve the other archangel unless absolutely necessary. The hunter looked at his sweat-soaked brother. "What will you do?"
"Instead of trying to make his grace cool, I'll warm mine up. Maybe his will relax if it finds a stronger heat source," he slowly began to transition the temperature of the energy flow, "I think that's why he's trying to crawl inside your chest right now, but it isn't working because you don't run hot enough."
Sam stopped pressing closer to Dean as the warmth drew his attention. Fever-bright eyes turned to Gabriel and there were flashes of grace mixed with glossy hazel. The archangel gave him a reassuring smile, recognizing that Sam's adult mind was quickly getting buried under pure instinct, "Is that what you wanted, little one? Something warm and safe?" The boy whined in the back of his throat and reached for Gabriel, who chuckled and tried to return the little hands back to Dean. "It is okay, Samuel. Sit with your brother and I will keep you warm. Or not, that's cool too. Hold on, kid, let us help..." The back seat became a flurry of motion as Sam swung his feet off the blanket and launched himself at Gabriel.
"Do I need to pull over?" Mary asked.
"No, no, we're good," Gabriel answered as Dean helped him get Sam better situated.
"Yeah, Sam just decided to try a different seat by throwing himself into it," Dean said with a exasperated sigh.
"I'll have you know I'm an excellent snuggler!" Gabriel exclaimed. He raised the temperature of his grace even more and was relieved to feel Sam's slow its race toward combustion. The boy was kneeling on the blanket and plastered pitifully into Gabriel's chest. "There you go—warm and safe with your family in your little home. Calm down now." He got an arm under Sam's thighs and hoisted him up a bit so the kid didn't have to hold his own weight.
Sam melted against him as the chills died down and his color returned to normal. His grace contentedly curled under Gabriel's continued stream of kindling energy. Once it was clear the boy was settled, Gabriel draped a wing around them without touching the underdeveloped buds. It was the closest he could get to emulating traditional grace-swaddling.
Gabriel met his brother's eyes over the headrest. What else did you find in that building?
It looked like a clinic for animals. There was a cage with restraints built into the floor. I am not certain what all was done to Sam or the condition of the room prior to his grace explosion, but the inside was very cold and damp. The fire sprinklers had also been pouring down water for over an hour before I entered. I found a laptop that seemed intact. It had been knocked under a table and mostly shielded from the water. Raphael retrieved the Tear of God used to banish us. Everything else seemed more or less destroyed.
Thank you for doing that, Cassie. I...I just couldn't. Gabriel brought his free hand to the back of Sam's hair and played with the curls.
Castiel offered a small smile. I understand, brother.
Gabriel wanted to ask about the seraph's conversation with Raphael, but the silence in the car was lingering. And silence gave Sam's thoughts too much space to wander. The rest could wait until later. "Hey Sammy, you wanna hear a story?" he asked in a conspiring whisper. The boy gave a sleepy nod. "Well, let me tell you about how Cassie and I broke a comet in Barnard's galaxy."
And with that, Gabriel spun the tale of their brief, but rapid, space exploration. He painted a picture of beautiful sights and unimaginable experience. Castiel's voice joined in occasionally to add details unnoticed by Gabriel. Every word captured Sam's complete attention, and he listened in awe-struck silence. Between the two of them, the angels made sure there was no room for thoughts of fear the rest of their journey home.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This is the last part to the dark "In the Valley of the Shadow" arc.
Prepare yourself for vicious amounts of fluff, healing, and wingy-stuffs.
Sorry for the slight delay in posting.
Holidays-what can you do (besides crawl into a cave and wait them out)?
Hope everyone had a blessed time ringing in the destruction of 2016...I mean the arrival of 2017.
Always Keep Fighting, folks!
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