But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
-From After the Storm by Mumford and Sons
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Enochian is in bold.
Thoughts/angel-radio/telepathy is in italics.
AFTER THE STORM
PART 1: NIGHT HAS ALWAYS PUSHED UP DAY
It was almost eleven o'clock in the morning when the Impala and Jeep pulled in front of the bunker. Sam hadn't moved from his place against Gabriel once the archangel began to narrate his adventures in space. Listening to the dramatic retelling, he found himself questioning just how many details were getting elaborated. But Castiel always chimed in or nodded eagerly along, and Sam would once again be swept up in the fantastic tale.
Once their intergalactic travels were thoroughly exhausted as a topic, Gabriel moved on to other similarly outlandish stories that involved his time among the pagan gods. The trip home was filled with laughs and gasps from the exhausted group. Sam almost hoped it would never end—that he could just rest there in the safety of the Impala's backseat, surrounded by voices he knew and loved, and use Gabriel as a personal heat rock forever. The constant buzzing along his skin from the low-level grace work certainly didn't hurt.
But he knew it couldn't last. Now that his grace wasn't cooking his insides, Sam's self-awareness crept in. He was increasingly conscious of the fact that lounging against another person was not something he would have done three weeks ago. And yet he'd spent the past four hours being held in turn by Castiel, Dean, and Gabriel. Not that it wasn't comfortable, but it was weird. How long was the archangel planning to baby him? The thought only grew as he realized how disgusting he smelled and felt and looked—and he discovered them in that order.
The engine cut off, and the silence disturbed. "Come on, bud. Let's get you inside," Gabriel said as they climbed out of the car. Sam heard car doors opening and footsteps following them, but Gabriel didn't slow down until they were all the way down the stairs. Lifting his head from the warm chest, he saw maps and books and papers and spell items strewn across the war table and floor.
Sam's jaw dropped at the mess. Was that a pile of hair?
"Whoa," Gabriel breathed, then turned to the others filing in behind them, "What were you doing, trying to summon Sam? Or...no, location spell. But very non-traditional." His eyes cataloged the leftover ingredients.
"It's a variation of our own special tracking spell. We hunt a lot of soul-selling witches who know how to guard against the predictable magics," the unknown woman said as she glided down the stairs.
"We had to get creative when we found out there was grace involved, but it worked. If not, we had a backup plan ready to go," the man following her added.
"Three backup plans," the woman corrected.
"Three backup plans and an entire library worth of potential knowledge to reform into other backup plans," the man agreed.
"Impressive," Gabriel whistled, "You'll have to share some of those with me later on. For now, I'm going to see about getting this one cleaned up." Sam felt himself be bounced slightly and his glare only got him a mild chuckle.
"You guys are welcome to stay," Dean said as he threw his bag onto a chair, "We have lots of spare rooms and enough food to last us all for weeks."
Mary stepped forward, "I'll show them around. You guys take care of Sammy." She smiled at him and whispered, "I love you," before leading the others toward the kitchen. Sam could only stare after her, wanting her to stay.
Dean glanced back up at the bunker entrance. "Gabe, where's your brother?" Mention of the other archangel had Sam tensing, but not with the terror Raphael's presence had first brought that morning. He just wanted to pretend he'd woken from a nightmare and that things would return to normal by lunch. Raphael was a reminder that so much had changed in twenty-four hours.
"He's waiting outside. I asked him to give us all a chance to settle first. Until then, he can stand guard," Gabriel answered as they walked to Sam's room.
Everything was exactly how they'd left it the morning before—blankets strewn everywhere, sheets hanging off the bed, pillows in the floor. Sam shivered, remembering the dreams that seemed so long ago. Had that really been the last time he'd slept?
"What would you like to wear today, Sam?" Castiel asked, and a tiny thrill ran through Sam's grace. The angel had started repeating the question every morning since their brothers fought over who got to dress him. Usually, they would make a little show of picking combinations they knew neither older sibling would appreciate. Dean and Gabriel liked to send them mock glares which led to rowdy breakfasts. Until yesterday.
Sam blinked and tried to remember what was in the drawers. Vague images of color and cloth passed through his mind, but nothing registered. He leaned back from Gabriel to see what clothes he even had on. It was the shirt Shepard had given him that morning—it smelled like the clinic and he realized it probably belonged to the British torturer. That thought made Sam's stomach lurch up into his throat and he swallowed through the rising nausea.
'Do monsters get to wear pants?' Sam shook his head hard, hoping to silence Shepard's voice in his head.
"You do not wish to wear anything?" Castiel tried to clarify, misreading the gesture.
There was a spark of panic at the idea of not getting to wear clothes again, but then Sam took in the earnest bewilderment on the seraph's face and he caught himself. No one was going to deny him clothes here. In fact, Castiel seemed to be headed toward accepting Sam's choice even if he clearly didn't understand it. The fear transformed into a half-laugh. He startled himself with the sound and saw Dean glancing between him and Castiel.
With a small knowing smile, Dean knelt down and opened the drawers. As he pulled out a handful of shirts, Castiel frowned, "Dean..."
"Cas, I know, and I'm with you. But Sam's not quite up to answering how you want him to," Dean explained. He stood and held the shirts up for inspection. Sam stared at them without moving. "Sam, pick a shirt," his brother said, encouraging but firm.
The color green stood out—same as the forest and Dean's eyes. He pointed to it and his brother nodded. The shirt was slung over Dean's shoulder and the rest of his armful got dumped back in the drawer. Sam tried not to wince at the disorder. They repeated the process to pick a pair of thick, flannel pants, and Dean grabbed underwear and socks without making him choose.
"Bath or shower, Sammy?" Dean asked as they made their way toward the bathroom.
"Bath, definitely," Gabriel answered instead, "His foot isn't completely healed. It will probably be tonight before he can stand without it hurting, but right now it's just newly-grown nerves and a couple layers of skin. I can seal it in grace to keep the water from touching it, but no weight until I give the go-ahead, okay?"
The last part was aimed directly to Sam, but his mind was stuck on the 'shower or bath' question, and all he could think about was nearly drowning under the pressurized spray of ice water. Cold crept into his chest and Sam pressed a little closer to Gabriel without answering. He saw the others share a look, but no one commented.
Castiel parted ways with them at the bathroom, citing limited space and went to check on the others. For a second, Gabriel just stood there holding him while Dean started the water in the claw-foot bathtub some poor soul had lugged underground decades ago. The scent of lavender and mint filled the billowing steam.
Under the sound of running water, the archangel whispered, "Okay, confession time—I really don't want to let you go right now and I doubt your grace is gonna be happy, but I need to put you down so we can get you cleaned up. Think we can do it?"
Sam couldn't keep his gaze away from the faucet. Each time, he became surrounded by the rushing water echoing off tiled walls. It was too intense a sound to safely ignore. He nodded, answering Gabriel. The archangel loved to play up the mother hen role, but he'd kept it going for hours.
Sam knew it was time to pull it back together and move on. Shit happened to them all the time, and this would have been treated like any other hunt if he'd been adult-sized. Dean may have fussed a little to work off the worried nerves from Sam going missing, but he definitely wouldn't be caught dead drawing a bubble bath for his brother.
Reluctantly, Sam allowed himself to be sat next to the sink and wondered when Dean was going to start making fun of his newfound clinginess. Gabriel didn't completely let go, maintaining contact with both hands. Sam's grace wasn't happy about the separation and rolled in frustration. Gabriel breathed out slowly like he was exhaling a drag from a cigarette and the room's temperature warmed considerably.
"Shit, Gabe, are you trying to smother me?" Dean asked, already drenched in sweat.
"Sorry, Deano. But Sam's grace is two seconds away from trying to cook him again because I put him down and I don't think any of us are quite ready for communal bathtime," Gabriel winked at Sam as Dean sputtered outrage about bad mental pictures. The water shut off and it felt like a large pressure suddenly lifted in the silence. "Alright, Sam, let's get this thing off you."
Careful hands peeled the soiled shirt off one limb at a time and Sam's throat burned with unspoken gratitude at not being made to lift his arms. He heard simultaneous gasps when the hem cleared his head and he saw matching expressions of horror and badly concealed rage. Gabriel's eyes stared at a place behind Sam, and it took him a second to realize he was sitting in front of a mirror.
Sam's arms crossed over his bruised chest, but Dean stepped forward and coaxed them back down. Fingers trailed lightly down his side. "Damn, kid."
Not a kid, Sam frowned and tried to look over his shoulder, but twisting made his skin feel tight.
"What...How..." Gabriel kept starting but breaking off, too upset, "What did they do?"
Sam shrugged. They had done a lot of things. He couldn't tell if Gabriel was referring to a specific injury or the overall image he presented. Dean's touch ghosted across his lower back and Sam leaned away with a grunt of pain.
"Raphael said they used some stick on you—from Olive's sisters' tree, or something," Dean said, crouching down to be eye-level with Sam. They searched each others' faces. Sam found the familiar regret and anger that spawned whenever Dean felt he'd failed to protect his brother. There was no telling what Dean saw.
"The Sisters Olive trees?" Gabriel shook his head and threw the shirt into the trashcan, "That's how they bruised your grace?"
Sam shrugged again, and felt his face and neck burn in embarrassment. God, having Gabriel alongside Dean in a post-danger protective frenzy seemed to somehow equal four of his brother. Dean took the archangel's similar attitude as permission to go further into overdrive. Sam wasn't used to such an intense reaction from others over some bruises. Granted, the burn had been horrible, but it was practically healed. Or he at least couldn't feel it anymore.
"How do you want to do the pants, dude?" Dean asked, swallowing down probably a dozen other things he'd rather say.
Sam pointed to the floor next to the bathtub. He'd handle his own pants, thank you. He just needed to lean against something.
"No standing on that foot, Sam," Gabriel reminded him. Sam clenched his jaw and jabbed his finger at his own bruised chest, then back toward the floor. If he walked all the way from the cage to the driveway at the animal clinic, then he could certainly stand on one foot to take off some pants. Gabriel just raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, you two," Dean picked Sam off the counter and sat with him on the toilet lid, "Sam, can you stand without putting weight on that foot?" Sam nodded, desperate to not have others stripping him. "Then let me help you balance and you do your thing."
Sam glanced at Gabriel, worried he'd anger the archangel by going against the clear order. But he saw the whiskey-brown eyes soften. "Yeah, we won't let you fall. Just be careful." Gabriel stepped closer.
"Check the water temp real quick—is it too hot?" Dean leaned Sam forward so he could dip his hand through the bubbly surface. It took every ounce of strength to not dive right in, clothing be damned. It wasn't quite the 'just shy of scalding' that Sam preferred, but it was still amazing. He reached a little further to immerse his forearm. "Whoa there!," Dean laughed and pulled him upright again, "Not headfirst and not wearing these filthy clothes."
Slowly, he helped Sam slide off his lap. When his left foot touched the tile, Sam thought his leg would give out but Dean's hands held him until the muscles stopped shaking. He made quick work of the pants, trying to remember that nudity wasn't anything new to either his brother or the ex-pagan god.
Gabriel helped keep the fabric from catching on the still-healing skin, and there was a tingling that encompassed the entire right foot. "There, that should keep the water from interfering with my work. I've set the grace to continue the accelerated healing. It may feel like pins and needles soon as the nerves reconnect, but nothing should hurt. If it does, you tell me immediately. Agreed?"
Sam nodded—he definitely didn't want that pain returning. As soon as the pants cleared his toes, Dean lifted him up, "Alright, dude, into the water and under the bubbles so no one loses their modesty."
Finally, he sank into the hot water and almost cried at how good it felt. There was no stopping the groan when he curled forward and pushed his arms under the bubbles. The skin twinged for less then a second before heat saturated all his limbs. Water sloshed against his back and he hissed as it burned against the welts. He straightened up to keep as many of them out of the bath as possible.
"Careful," Gabriel said unnecessarily.
Sam huffed. Someone handed him a washcloth and he gingerly wiped away the hours of sweat and dirt and blood that had caked to his skin. He resisted the urge to scrub until the skin peeled away, knowing his hypersensitive sentinels would never allow it.
Gabriel leaned against the wall with a contemplative look, "It might be easier to wait and wash your hair after the bath to keep your back dry. You could just lean over the tub while we use the shower head...No!"
Sam didn't remember moving. One second he was calmly sitting, and the next, he was half-way over the porcelain edge, aiming to wedge himself between the massive beast and the wall. Two arms suddenly appeared around his waist and chest from above, suspending him above the water, and Sam fought to get free.A drowsy peace settled like a heavy blanket around him and he felt himself go boneless. He blinked down at the bubbles—they were all glowing gold.
"What the...that was..." Dean stammered, near hysterics, "Both of you get off the damned tub before my chest explodes!" Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabriel's sneakers perched solidly on either side of the tub.
"Calm down, Deano, and unfold the towel. Bathtime's over," Gabriel said softly as he stepped over and down.
Sam closed his eyes against the disorienting view. The water dripping off his skin felt like ice and the voices merged with a distant torrential roar. He wanted to ask what had happened and why breathing was so difficult. All that came out was a choked, "Please!" A strange resonance dulled the cold and kept his body mostly relaxed.
"You are safe, Samuel. Just breathe," Gabriel's voice stayed low and held a hint of power. "Dean, towel. Here we go, Sam."
Hands transferred him face-down onto another set of arms draped in soft cloth. The fabric wrapped around his legs and sides, crisscrossing over his lower back. When they shifted him again, Sam found himself upright with his head resting on a shoulder. "Please, no," he whispered under the growing sound of rushing water.
"Hush, little guy. It is all over. You are home." A hand moved to the back of Sam's head. His scalp felt crusty with all the filth stuck in the tangled strands. Fingers ran through the curls. A tingling flowed over his head and the grime disintegrated, leaving a stronger scent of lavender and mint behind. Sam sighed into the sensation and felt the tangles fall away from the fingers. "There, that is a lot better, right?" Gabriel whispered.
"Please? Please no?" Sam repeated the words, but they had become meaningless sounds that felt important.
"What do you not want, hmm?" Gabriel asked, swaying back and forth in a way that felt completely foreign to Sam.
The rushing sound had stopped. Sam opened his eyes expecting a cement floor and metal bars and was surprised to see the walls of the bunker bathroom. A jolt of memories crashed him back to the present. He sucked in a breath, "Gabriel?"
The archangel looked down, his vessel's face blurry from the swirls of golden grace but the smile came through clear. "Sam-shine! Are you with us now?"
Nodding, Sam swallowed and tried to push down his humiliation so he could speak. It was still hard to get enough air. "Sorry. I not mean to..."
"Hey, hey! None of that," Gabriel shushed him, "You scared me—I didn't know you could move that fast."
Sam's face burned. He hid it against the towel which only served to remind him that he was naked. "Clothes?" his voice cracked.
"Dean's got them. You want to put those pants on?"
"Yes, please," he mumbled into the towel.
Gabriel and Dean debated briefly on the best way to get him dressed. In the end, the archangel simply held Sam out from him while Dean shimmied the clothes up his legs under the towel. "How about we leave the shirt off for now?" Gabriel asked as Dean wrestled a sock onto the non-burned foot. "I don't think anything will feel very good against those shoulders until we've had the chance to work on them some."
Sam curled his toes inside the thick material. "Okay," he said, too happy with pants and a single sock to worry about the shirt. Besides, he was warm and his back did hurt. Now that he knew where he was, his anxiety was draining away like the bathwater. He laid his head on Gabriel's shoulder again, too exhausted to keep upright.
They left the bathroom and made their way through the halls. "We're going to the bedroom. Your mom and Cassie are already there waiting for us." Hearing that Mary and Castiel were nearby, soon to be seen, was oddly reassuring.
"Why?" Dean's confused voice broke in as they started walking again.
"Because that's what members of a flock do." Gabriel answered in his patent 'you are so stupid, it's cute' tone before explaining further, "If one goes into distress, the rest rally around them. Isn't it the same for human families?"
Dean didn't answer right away, and Sam could almost hear the internal struggle happening in his brother's brain. It was the same one taking place in his own. He and Dean had no idea what happened in normal families. "I guess," Dean said, gruffly, "It's really only ever been just me and Sammy. 'Distress' is part of our everyday life. Does stitching each other up and sharing a beer count as rallying?"
"Winchesters," Gabriel swore, "Of course it counts! Treating wounds and staying close to reassure each other is what I'm talking about. It's why the others are waiting for us."
They entered a room much brighter than the halls, and Sam had to shut his eyes against it. He heard the rustling of feet and clothing.
"Is he alright?" Castiel asked.
"What happened?" Mary said at the same time.
"Everything's fine," Gabriel reassured them as he sat down, "We had to cut the bath a bit short, that's all." Sam could only imagine the faces the archangel was making to try and silently convey the disaster that had just occurred. The seat bounced as someone sat next to them.
Sam turned his head and saw his brother. It took him a second to realize they were on the small sofa in the communal bedroom. He pushed back from Gabriel's chest to look at the archangel. "Here?" He thought they were returning to his own bedroom.
"Here," Gabriel said firmly. The archangel rarely insisted on things, but when he did there was no use debating with him. Sam knew it was better to carefully plan a counterargument and readdress the issue when things were less intense. A glance around the room showed the others hovering nervously and he sighed—it didn't look like 'less intense' was going to happen very soon.
Castiel had left the bathroom earlier because he knew Sam was a private person. To have so many adults inhabiting the small room while trying to bathe would be overwhelming, and potentially embarrassing when his friend had the chance to reflect later. So, as much as it pained him to let Sam out of his sight, Castiel went to check on the other member of their little flock.
They had gathered in the kitchen. Max stood mixing coffee with various alcohols while the three women sat in a huddle at the table. Jody's arm was draped across Mary's shoulders and Alicia held the mother's hand as they spoke in hushed tones. He sat with them and accepted a drink, surprised to be so casually included. Max had been confident that Castiel would take his coffee "just like mamma and me," and he was correct. The sweet and creamy tones added a different texture and experience than regular cream and sugar.
He had barely taken his second sip when Gabriel's voice brushed his mind. Can you get Mary and meet us in that bedroom you put together? He sounded strained.
What is wrong? Castiel asked, and he half-noticed the humans falling silent when he set the mug down harder than intended.
He got spooked in the bath. It may have been something I said about washing his hair. I don't know, but I've got him wrapped in enough grace to stop a stampede and he's still talking.
And Sam is allowing this? Castiel frowned as he stood up, motioning for Mary to join him. He muttered a vague excuse about being summoned by his brother, and they quickly made their way to the large bedroom.
Sam just tried to throw himself out of a bathtub and into a wall. Power echoed over their connection and there were ripples moving through the air of the bunker from the archangel's direction. I didn't bind him in it, if that's what you're thinking. But if he slammed those wings into tile, it could cause enough pain for another explosion like when they burned his foot. And Dean was less than two feet away.
Castiel felt sick—he was completely out of his league in terms of Sam's current state. As a seraph soldier, he had limited understanding of what complications they were facing. The fact that Dean could potentially have been killed in the midst of a pain-induced panic attack just moments ago was beyond unsettling.
In the bedroom, Mary cornered him for answers. "Castiel, what is going on? Is Sam alright?"
"I do not know exactly. Gabriel just said Sam was upset by something during his bath and asked that we meet him here." He flipped on the lights and warmed the air with his grace.
Glancing at the room, he quickly decided it needed some adjustments. He left the two twin beds in either corner and banished the empty dressers. The third twin bed he pulled to the center and expanded it into a king. Turning, he added two more chairs across from the sofa to make a larger seating area. It seemed like the right thing to do—Gabriel would want more lounging options while healing Sam.
Mary gasped beside him. He looked at her, worried he'd done something wrong. She was staring at him in awe. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to seeing you do things like that." Castiel just smiled and looked away. He still wasn't used to reverence from a Winchester.
It took less than a few minutes, and they'd just finished shaking a quilt out over the larger bed when the others walked in. The sight of the boy stunned him into dropping the quilt and rushing over. No longer hidden in fabric, the skin on Sam's back was a mass of bruises overlaid by several thin red welts. And in the very center, along one particularly vicious looking stripe, sat two pockets of grace.
They could hardly be called wings—not these pitiful tendrils of light that seemed to be seeping from a wound. He wondered if Raphael had the ability to reverse the progress, or if the Healer would have to coax them into fully manifesting. Either prospect sounded awful, but leaving the raw grace exposed would be much worse.
A cloud of gold surrounded Gabriel and Sam, and Castiel felt the calming effects as he drew closer. He saw Dean sit beside their brothers. The hunter was clutching the shirt Sam had picked out in hands that occasionally trembled. It made Castiel wonder what exactly had happened.
"So, what's everyone else doing? Is it nap time or did they find the leftovers too enticing?"
"Max is making his coffees. We didn't make it further than the kitchen," Mary answered, sitting in one of the new chairs.
"Max is making coffee?" Dean perked up at the news.
"Yup," Mary smiled, "Castiel liked it too."
"You should, Cas. He's good at it. What did he put in yours?"
Castiel cleared his throat, "A cream from Ireland. It was very good."
"You mean to tell me you found two powerful, intelligent, badass witch hunter twins while trapped in the bunker? Found them, brought them here, and they're making alcoholic coffees? I'm so proud of you guys!" Gabriel laughed.
Sam stirred in the archangel's arms and clumsily tried to move to the seat between them and Dean. Gabriel steadied him and only Castiel could see the frantic undercurrent hidden below his brother's calm exterior. It was easy to see where the stories came from concerning Gabriel's protective nature and affection for fledglings.
He will not let you carry him forever, brother, Castiel teased silently.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow and started carding his fingers through Sam's hair to maintain contact, You wanna bet? Out loud, he said, "Cassie, for the love of Dad, sit down!"
Castiel lowered himself into a chair and saw Sam give him a shy smile. He returned it, "How are you feeling, Sam?"
The boy's smile became more forced and he shrugged, grimacing as the gesture pulled on his back. "Better," he answered simply.
Gabriel met his gaze, He's not lying—he is doing much better than before. But he is not 'better.'
Castiel nodded, acknowledging them both, "Are you hungry? Or would you like to sleep?"
Sam shook his head, not saying which one he was rejecting.
"How about we go see what's going on in the kitchen? You could use a little something in your stomach, even if it's just a glass of milk," Gabriel pushed gently. The boy shrugged again.
"You up to seeing Jody?" Dean asked. Castiel saw the corner's of Sam's mouth curl up at mention of the sheriff. Dean read it as an answer, "Awesome! Come on, Gabe. You deserve one of Max's coffees."
"You sure got some interesting friends, Jody," Alicia said.
Jody chuckled, "You two have no idea."
Max joined his sister at the table, "So Mister Blue Eyes is Castiel, right? And he's the one who's wearing your girl's daddy?"
"Yep," Jody answered, draining her coffee. Max reached behind him and brought both the whiskey and Irish cream bottles around to the table. Jody tapped the whiskey and he poured her a generous portion. "Although, his soul is in Heaven. The way I understand it, God recreated Jimmy's vessel for Castiel after Raphael killed him. And again when Lucifer killed him. And a few more times, maybe? I'm a little hazy on the resurrection count between all of them."
"And the little boy? That's really Sam Winchester?" Alicia asked.
Jody laughed, "I guess so! Never thought the words 'little boy' would ever be used to identify him. I've only known Sam as the gentle giant."
"Hmm, 'gentle giant' is not how he's usually described in hunting circles," Alicia mused without refuting the claim.
"That's because hunter's talk about the hunt. You should talk to survivors he's helped in the aftermath," Jody drained half the liquor from her mug.
"Well, he certainly isn't towering over anyone now," Max snorted.
"And the gold one is Gabriel?" Alicia refilled their whiskeys.
"Gold one?" Jody frowned, unsure why she used that phrase to describe the shorter man.
"Oh, he glows," Max agreed.
"Totally different from Castiel," Alicia added.
"Well, I met Gabriel the same time you did," Jody shrugged, "But I didn't see any glow."
Max shivered, "He is a whirlwind of energy."
Alicia nodded, "And he smells like a candy store."
"A glowing whirlwind of energy that smells like a candy store? Sounds like my kinda person!" Gabriel's voice bounced in the room as he entered with the rest of the bunker's inhabitants right behind him. Jody heard the twins both inhale sharply. Twisting in her chair she saw the archangel standing with a hand on one hip and a child balanced on the other. She still couldn't believe this tiny creature was Sam—especially not when he was clinging to someone other than Dean and staring at them all with guarded eyes.
"Yeah, I bet he's just a picture of humility," Dean said sarcastically.
"Humility, decency, sexiness..." Gabriel rattled on until Dean smacked him in the back of the head none-too-gently, "Hey! Watch it, mister. Or risk not finding any bacon in that fridge for a week."
"Max, what's this I hear about you making coffees?" the hunter asked, sidestepping Gabriel's halfhearted kick without even looking. The relaxed banter between Dean and the archangel was interesting—she knew how rare it was for the older Winchester to get that comfortable around others. The fact that he was still allowing Gabriel to carry Sam told her even more about their level of trust.
"Coming right up," Max answered breathlessly, still staring at Gabriel.
"You might want to watch the drooling," Jody whispered to him and she stifled her laugh when his sister stomped his foot.
Gabriel wriggled his eyebrows at the male witch, "Do I get a coffee too?"
A slow smirk appeared on Max's face, "Hmm, definitely. But you're gonna need a few extra ingredients."
"I usually do," Gabriel shot back.
"Oh my God, you two!" Dean yelled into the fridge, "Max, make him the damn drink so he'll shut up! Gabriel, put my brother down before you flirt that much!"
Gabriel just cackled and walked with Mary to join them at the table. They crammed in at end next to Jody and she finally got an up-close look at the boy. His hair was darker and curlier, and all the sharp angles of his face had been rounded out. But there was no mistaking those hazel eyes brimming with emotion.
"Taking your 'little brother' role a little serious there, aren't you Sam?" Jody teased softly, unsure the best way to approach her changed friend.
The big eyes blinked twice before he huffed a laugh and gave a very Sam-like grin. "Maybe. I still think Dean helped with the whole thing so he could be taller again."
Jody glanced at the older brother and heard him snort. "I'd believe that," she agreed.
"Thanks, Jody. For helping and stuff," Sam said, suddenly shy.
Jody scoffed, "I don't know how much help I actually provided. But you know me—I'm a sucker for a Winchester with a pretty face."
"Don't lie!" Dean said sternly as he brought an armload of covered dishes and platters to the table, "Mom and I were trapped here until you showed up."
"Yes, where I freed you with my clever use of turning a doorknob," she replied dryly.
"You called Alicia and Max to help us find Sammy," Mary added in a quiet, grateful voice, never taking her eyes off her son.
"Oh, Sam hasn't met them yet!" Jody realized, "Sam, this wonderful woman is Alicia Banes. And the gentleman mixing drinks is her brother, Max."
"It's nice to finally meet you, Sam," Alicia smiled from her place. Sam nodded shyly and leaned against Gabriel.
"Heads up," Dean called from the other end of the table and slid a red bowl to the archangel.
"Perfect. Thanks, Deano!" Gabriel pried the lid off one-handed and pulled the bowl closer.
"Gabe, I'm not hungry," Sam frowned at the bowl.
"Would you rather some cream of wheat or oatmeal? Something bland and hot?" Gabriel asked as he snatched what looked like a giant blackberry and popped it into his own mouth.
"Not really..."
A glass of milk appeared over Jody's shoulder and she jumped. Dean set it down next to the bowl and ruffled Sam's hair. "Drink it or you'll be that size forever."
"Dean," Sam grumbled, "I'm not..."
"You're not hungry, I know," his brother waved off the protest, "But your stomach is probably still shut down from everything. Drink that—at least it will keep you from feeling sick when it does wake up. Plus, you could use the calories." Sam stared at the glass without moving. "Now, Sam, or I get a bottle and rock you to sleep with it later."
Sam's mouth dropped open and he stammered in outrage, "Y-you, you are...you wouldn't dare!"
"Is that a challenge? Do you really think I wouldn't make Cas fly to the store and get you something covered in cartoons? Drink it, dude." Dean looked pointedly at the glass when there wasn't instant compliance.
With flaming red cheeks, Sam grabbed for the glass. His hold was weak and the glass tipped in his small hands, but Gabriel was already helping before Jody could react. He supported the glass' weight while Sam brought it to his mouth. "You're such a fucking jerk," he murmured.
Jody saw the twins do identical double-takes at the words. She was used to Sam using language—just not in such a sweet little voice. A glance at Mary showed the woman seemed unphased by it. In fact, she was looking at Dean as though waiting for something.
"Yeah, well you're a fucking bitch," Dean gave an exasperated eye roll.
Mary just shrugged when Jody looked to see her reaction, "They've been this way since I got here. That first morning, Sam threatened to kick Dean in the balls, and Dean called him a little shit. That's been pretty consistent ever since." Mary smiled fondly and glanced at Castiel who was hovering behind where Dean sat, "I was assured their behavior was normal."
"Normal is not a word I've ever associated with your boys. Especially that one," Jody said with a nod toward Dean.
"Hey!" he protested, but it was ignored as Max returned with a tray of mugs.
"Here we go, folks," Max placed the steaming drinks in front of Dean and Mary before presenting Gabriel's with a small bow.
The archangel set down the milk Sam had quit sipping in favor of the whipped cream and chocolate topped mug. Jody swore she saw the caramel eyes flare gold for a second as he tasted whatever was underneath the tower of cream. Gabriel said something in a language she didn't recognize but she knew a swear when she heard one—Castiel and Sam's simultaneous blush and jolt only confirmed it.
Carefully, Gabriel placed the mug back on the table and looked down at Sam. "Kiddo, I'm gonna need some alone time with this," he said, waving his hand over the drink, "Guard your mother for me—she may get jealous and you're a good distraction."
Sam's eyes widened in brief panic, but then a warmth filled the air around the archangel. Jody felt herself relax and a heartbeat later Sam calmed too. He rolled his eyes at the floppy haired archangel and replied in more words she didn't know. Gabriel snickered and gently moved the boy into Mary's lap.
Mother and son froze, neither appearing to know what to do. Jody watched, entranced, as Mary slowly leaned forward to press her face into the soft curls. The sound of the others talking faded into the background. Mary whispered something in Sam's ear and his face broke into a grin. His body relaxed sideways into her and her arm came up around his waist.
Gabriel's hand slipped down and brought Sam's feet up to rest on his lap. "It's my new official favorite. And that's saying something because it just replaced a drink that's reigned champion for at least a few centuries." His voice brought Jody back to the conversation.
Max grinned and sipped his own coffee, "I call it an Emerald Isle. Espresso, steamed milk, chocolate, Irish cream, and peppermint. I couldn't do the espresso on the road, so I brewed it extra strong."
"It is perfect," Gabriel sighed.
"I know," Max stood and grabbed Sam's glass of milk, "Let me fix this for you, Sam. It's not fair that everyone else gets a special drink and you're stuck with cold milk."
"No liquor!" Dean called to him.
Max gave him a Sam-worthy side eye, "Clearly I gave you too much if you think I'm that stupid." Jody laughed with the others at Dean's red faced sputtering. A minute later, Max returned with a small travel mug. The sealed top and covered drink spout made for a very dignified adult-alternative to the sippy cup. Jody was never going to look at her coffee thermoses the same again. "Here ya go. Tell me what you think."
Sam looked startled to find himself holding the silver cup and took a drink out of automatic politeness. His eyes lit up in delight and he took another longer draw. "Wow," he breathed, "That's really good."
"I thought you might like it. I make it for Alicia and I if when we need a pick-me-up. Warm milk with a little chocolate and mint. Never fails."
"Thanks," Sam said, sipping on his drink.
"Anytime, my man," Max filled a plate from the platters of food and sat back down.
"This is amazing," Alicia said around a mouthful of spinach pie.
"Gabriel's become our resident chef," Dean said, stuffing his face even faster as though not to be outdone by a lady.
Gabriel shrugged, "I'm a stress baker."
Jody absently picked at her food, enamored by the sight of Sam leaning his head against Mary. His eyes were growing heavy. Mary carefully pried his fingers away from the cup and set it on the table. Leaning back in her chair, the blonde wrapped her right arm around him as well and let out a breath.
"I suspect you would use any emotion as an excuse to cook," Castiel spoke up quietly, "You have grown quite fond of spoiling those around you."
Jody shoved a bite of kiwi to cover her smile when Gabriel blushed. His eyes moving to Sam's still form. "Shut up, Cassie," he mumbled.
"Holy shit," Dean whispered, staring at his brother, "Is he sleeping?"
"Yeah," Mary said just as quiet, "I think so."
"Oh, he's out. You sure you didn't slip him a shot of liquor?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Max.
"I'm sure," Max replied, "That boy was barely awake when you brought him in here. How are you amazed he passed out as soon as his belly was full?"
"Actually, I don't know what's got me more surprised—him being asleep or the fact that he finished your drink. Those are usually our two biggest battles after tough hunts," Dean explained, shaking his head in disbelief. "I was sure he had another twelve hours in him, minimum."
"A bath, full belly, and wrapped in a heated energy blanket—I'd sleep for a week straight." Alicia grabbed one of the infamous maple bacon doughnut, split it, and put the other half on her brother's plate.
Castiel and Gabriel's heads both shot up. "You can feel Gabriel's grace?" Castiel asked, staring at Alicia.
"If you mean the swirling cloud of sunlight that's got me half asleep all the way over here, then yes, we can feel it." Max answered wistfully.
"You can see my grace too?" Gabriel sounded impressed. "Man, you two are something else."
"We know," they said together.
Jody just chuckled and stood up. Stretching out her back she said, "Well, I'm pooped. I think Sam has the right idea. Do you guys care if I crash?"
"Same," said the twins, both of whom were failing to stifle yawns.
"Come on, Cassie. It's time for all the humans to get some sleep," Gabriel stood and helped Mary to her feet with Sam.
As they made their way through the hallway, drowsily following the angels, Jody moved next to Mary. "You get some sleep too, okay? I get the feeling you'll have your hands full with both of these boys when they're rested and energized."
Mary gave her a tired smile. "At least I've got nannies who never need to sleep."
"Hear that, Cassie? We're nannies now," Gabriel whispered loudly from the front.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Comments feed my soul!
Come be my friend on Tumblr: TheRiverScribe