AFTER THE STORM
PART 3: NOT MY MIND AND NOT MY HEART - I WON'T ROT

Sam felt burnt-out. His grace, gifted straight from Chuck-as-God-Himself, raged from a fire that left him gutted. His mind, weary with overlapping thoughts and memories, spewed a steady stream of doubt. His body, drained from pain and fear, was beyond exhausted.

Waking up disoriented to deal with a room full of frantic mother hens made him want to hide under the bed. Everyone moved too fast, asking questions that required an immediate answer. There was so much grace in the room, it was hard to think straight. It smothered his senses, leaving him irritated and off-balance.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Gabriel. While Raphael didn't inspire the same terror as the two older archangels, he was still an unknown powerful figure. The Healer had shown patience and kindness when Sam was at his weakest, but that could change. People always changed once they got to know him. The archangel might come to the same conclusion as Ms Watt—that Sam was a freak even for an angel.

Taking a shaky breath, Sam pushed those thoughts aside. He'd consented to the exam, and there was nothing he could do to influence what Raphael found. If there was still some trace of demon blood, or any other remnants of the past, he had no way of hiding them.

Raphael looked at Sam like he understood the hunter-turned-angel on a fundamental level—past Sam's own understanding of himself. It wasn't arrogant or cocky, but rather a quiet assurance carried in the archangel's piercing eyes. Shepard may have stripped Sam bare, but Raphael made him feel naked.

Gabriel's voice seemed distant when he asked about sitting or lying down. Sam could only shrug and brace himself for whatever Raphael might do. Fingers containing unfamiliar grace touched his arm. Sam held his breath and forced his body to stay still.

"Hello again, Samuel," Raphael said.

Sam waited for the inevitable pain to explode between his shoulder blades. Instead, liquid heat poured over him like a second skin until he was covered head-to-toe. His eyes flew open and he stared at Gabriel in a panic, certain that if he opened his mouth the unknown substance would flood in.

"You're okay, Sam. Just breathe," Gabriel tried to reassure. Sam shook his head and brought hands up to his face to feel along his mouth and nose. Gabriel pulled them away gently, "It's just Raphael's grace, Sam. You can breathe. Come on, kiddo, calm down and breathe."

Hesitantly, Sam sniffed through his nose—nothing but air filled his lungs. His cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but it still took several minutes to stop fearing he drown. Raphael's grace, heavy and invisible, encased him completely. Sam fidgeted, but it moved with him. "What doing?" he mumbled against the strange sensation.

Gabriel rubbed his thumbs over the pulse point on Sam's wrists and studied him closely. "When an angel is injured, it is traditional for a healer to wrap them in grace. It keeps wounds from bleeding out and kick-starts natural healing. Wraps also provide comfort—they are meant to make you feel safe."

Safe was not the word Sam would use to describe the sensation—it was more like being submerged in warm jello. Disturbing was a better word. The bed sank behind him and a second large hand came to rest on his left shoulder. Raphael's voice rumbled like slow-rolling thunder, "I am sorry if it is disorienting. I have rarely had to do this for an angel in a vessel, and never one so young. Rest easy, it will not interfere with your breathing."

Sam's grace twisted sharply beyond his shoulder blades and he gasped in a lung-full of air. He saw Dean move out of the corner of his eye. The memory of his brother's shout when he'd been shocked made Sam's stomach clench. Until his grace was fixed, he'd be a threat to everyone.

Gabriel sighed. Sam's eyes snapped to the archangel in time to see the sorrow swirling in gold. "What?" he asked before he could stop himself. The smile he received was hard to interpret—shaky and sad and a little forced. It only alarmed him more.

The weird smile melted into something more natural and Gabriel shook his head. "It is nothing. My thoughts wondered," he said. Sam stared at him, unconvinced.

Golden grace danced up his arms, merging with Raphael's layer. It was more familiar, like summer wind, and Sam felt his own grace reach for it without permission. He tried to pull it back under control.

"It is okay," Raphael said, making Sam jump, "Just let your grace do what it needs to do."

"It may even know better than you," Gabriel teased.

Sam scowled and bit his lip to keep from retorting. His temper rose as his grace grew irritated at being held so tight. Another sharp surge rippled up his back, and it was too similar to how it felt after being whipped with the Olive branch. Sam hissed in pain and gripped Gabriel's shirt.

Raphael's hands moved to Sam's lower back without touching the wings. "Peace, Samuel. You are only hurting yourself," the archangel's voice was deeper than before. The grace around Sam started tingling along his skin.

He let out a frustrated grunt as his body shuddered and tried to twist away from Raphael. Gabriel placed a palm in the center of Sam's chest and released a torrent of grace to swirl around the angry storm brewing. "Shh," Gabriel soothed, leaning closer so they were nose-to-nose, "Enough. Samuel, look at me please. I need you to calm down. Can you speak?"

Those words caught Sam's attention—it was the phrase Gabriel used to let him know they were reaching a point where the archangel might have to intervene, with or without Sam's approval. With that in mind, Sam forced himself to be still, pushing down the desire to sprint from the room. He gave a shaky nod and said, "Yes."

Gabriel smiled warmly and brought a hand up to brush the curls off Sam's face. "Good. Very good," he breathed out, "I know you dislike healing. But if we do not help your grace soon, then you cannot stay around humans. That includes Dean and Mary."

Sam swallowed hard as his stomach knotted. Turning to look at his anxious family, the feeling worsened at the realization that he wasn't just different—he was dangerous. His eyes found Castiel, and his restless grace instantly reacted by reaching for him. Castiel nodded and he took three long strides to join them.

"He is right, Samuel," Castiel said gravely as he sat on the bed next to Gabriel, "Your grace is not stable with its injuries. Raphael will only be able to contain it for so long with that wrap."

Sam closed his eyes, knowing Castiel was telling the truth, and took a deep breath. This was his own responsibility—he'd accepted Chuck's offer and allowed himself to be changed. For all he knew, this was part of Chuck's grand plan to make Sam trust the angels. Not that he thought God had planned on Sam getting kidnapped and tortured...

"Samuel," Castiel's voice cut through Sam's thoughts and he opened his eyes, "are you still with us?"

"Yes," Sam said determinedly. His grace continued to move angrily, but he didn't know how to make it stop. "What I do?"

Castiel glanced at Gabriel for a second before answering. "Healing is really just an advanced version of grooming. Do you trust me and Gabriel?" Sam nodded. "Then we can start with what is familiar. All you need to do is relax, stop pushing your grace down, and trust us to take care of you."

A nervous laugh escaped Sam's throat, "That all?"

Castiel smiled sheepishly, "Perhaps I oversimplified."

Sam rolled his eyes and felt himself start to relax with less effort. He turned to Gabriel. The archangel looked ancient in that moment, the weight of centuries written on his face. Sam felt his resistance crumble under the knowledge that he did trust them. He had prayed to them when he was hurt and despairing, and they had come. Sam looked away when he realized he'd repaid them with anger. "Sorry," was all he could say.

Gabriel surprised him by pressing a kiss to his forehead, "None of this is your fault. I know this is hard. But I think Castiel's idea is good. How about you lay down and get comfortable, and we will go from there?"

Sam agreed and watched Castiel rearrange pillows until they had what amounted to a second mini-mattress in the middle of the bed. The hands on his back vanished, startling him. Turning around, Sam found Raphael calmly studying him. He looked away, again feeling more exposed than when he'd actually been stripped naked.

Gabriel directed Sam onto the pillows where he stretched out on his stomach. He blinked back tears when he felt a blanket draped across his lower back, keeping him warm and covered. Nerves made tiny tremors run through his body and he crossed his arms, hoping it would be less noticeable.

Castiel lowered himself down on his side until they were face to face. "Are you alright, Samuel?" he asked softly.

"Y-yes," his teeth chattered as he spoke.

Blue eyes narrowed. "You do not look or sound alright."

"You s-say I look bad?" he tried to joke. It might have been more effective if his breath hadn't hitched at the end.

Castiel didn't answer. Instead, he brought a hand up and ran it slowly through Sam's hair. Sam laid his head down and huffed into his arm. "Just relax. I will stay here. Your brother and mother are behind me. It is going to be fine."

A deep humming filled the room. Sam recognized it from that morning when he'd first met Raphael. The song acted like a balm in the air, wrapping everyone in the rich, warm tones. Sam's irritation calmed and the pressure on his shoulders lessened enough to make breathing easier.

The bed dipped as the archangels switched seats, but Sam kept his gaze locked on Castiel. The blue eyes glowed brighter with the seraph's grace. The scent of rain slowly drifted over him, calming the tremors. His own grace rushed to meet the familiar presence and he allowed it. Closing his eyes, Sam drifted on the dance of energies filtering through his body

"Alright," Gabriel's voice came from somewhere near Sam's feet, "We are going to start with the basics. The only difference will be Raphael joining us." The blanket was pushed up his legs and fingertips tapped feather-light around his ankle, walking their way down to his toes. There was a rhythm to the soft patting. Each beat sent a tiny vibration through Sam's foot, stirring sensation back into the skin. He wiggled his toes against the sudden pins-and-needles, but the feeling persisted. Gabriel chuckled, "I know, it feels odd. Tell me if it starts to hurt, okay?"

"Okay," Sam answered. Castiel's fingers left his hair to hold Sam's hand. He saw Castiel's gaze move to Raphael and the seraph nodded.

"Raphael is going to start," Castiel relayed.

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow.

Large hands returned to his back, fingertips tapping a light rhythm up and down his spine. The vibrations fluctuated across his skin through the liquid layer of energy. He heard it resonate in time and pitch with Raphael's humming, like listening to music underwater.

His grace easily accepted the Healer's presence. It didn't recoil or lash out—instead, it seemed to purr, content in the knowledge that someone was finally attending its needs. Sam felt it drift toward the surface to lazily rub against the warm wrap.

The three angels' graces melded together, making it difficult to tell them apart. Sam tried for a time to follow who was doing what, but it became impossible as his mind became pleasantly sluggish. He floated in a haze.

"Did you know that I used to do this for Gabriel when he was your age?" Raphael asked. The humming never faltered.

It took Sam a second to respond to the change of language. "No," he mumbled as fingers moved up his spine, sifting lightly through the grace that rested below the wings. Gabriel made a startled sound.

"Oh yes, Gabriel was always a mess as a fledgling," it was easy to hear Raphael's grin, "I used to think he'd purposefully fall out of Heaven to play on the newly formed Earth, long before humans were created."

The hands reached his shoulder blades—where Sam estimated the base of his wings sat. Fingers carefully stroked over the exposed grace with the precision of a surgeon. Sam's breath caught but he made no noise. The area was sensitive, but the touch didn't hurt.

"Of course, I knew almost instantly every time he left to go exploring. He was like a persistent little hummingbird—always buzzing and darting around me, never focused on one thing, and consuming vast amounts of sweet fruits."

Gabriel laughed. "Man, I loved it when humans came along and invented candy. Cavemen made this amazing taffy-like stuff from honey that was divine."

"Yes," Raphael agreed, "You were nearly intolerable with it. There were several occasions I had to have Father remove sticky gobs of it from my wings because of you."

"That's not true!" Gabriel gasped in mock outrage. "It was only one time."

"You only heard about one time because you would take off before I knew what you'd done," Raphael said as Gabriel laughed again, "You are just lucky I never made you go to Father when we'd drag you back to Heaven covered in mud and twigs and whatever else you'd found to roll around in. I guarantee you would have experienced much longer lectures with Him than you ever had with me."

Sam tensed when he felt the hands leave his skin to continue threading fingers through the grace floating outside his body. It was unnerving to recognize a new appendage—and it was suddenly much easier to do so. While the grace within his body was now calm, his wings were getting worse. Static crawled across them, shooting sparks of energy back down his spine.

Castiel leaned in closer, "You are doing very well, just keep breathing deeply. Having your raw grace touched can be unpleasant. Do you wish to sleep for this part?"

Sam's eyes flew open and he shook his head. The only thing worse than submitting to an angel's healing was being unconscious while it happened. "No! Please no sleep," he begged.

The hands on his wings stopped, and one moved to rest again on Sam's shoulder. "Hush, child. No one will make you sleep, I promise." More grace poured around him and the hum grew louder. It almost made him feel like he was in the back of the Impala on a Summer's day. Raphael's knuckles rubbed the tension out of his shoulders for a few minutes before returning to his wings.

"Well, I think your lectures were lengthy enough," Gabriel mumbled after a moment of silence. Sam snorted at the petulant tone. The hand at his left ankle reached up to tickle behind his knee. His leg kicked out on reflex. Luckily, his muscles were mostly mush at that point and didn't do much.

"Gabriel, quit being a menace!" Raphael's fingers moved methodically through the wings, adjusting flow-patterns as he went. The grace responded gradually, settling as it allowed the changes. "I am not so sure my words had any impact—as soon as you were cleaned up and bored, you'd be gone again. When Father announced that He would be making fledgling seraphs, I was horrified by the prospect of having to keep track of entire host of little Gabriels."

"Hey now!"

Raphael ignored the outburst. "Luckily, it turned out Gabriel was...unique. The new fledglings were much calmer and better behaved."

"Until Gabriel got involved," Castiel chimed in. Sam cracked open one eye to see his friend grinning toward the Trickster.

Gabriel's warning of, "Don't you dare start, Cassie!" was drowned out by Raphael's deep, rolling laughter.

"Precisely, brother! Once he was old enough to help, Heaven's nursery had to be safeguarded against all the mischief he encouraged. And there was a lot of mischief Gabriel encouraged."

Sam smiled at the image of Gabriel teaching baby angels how to play pranks on the other archangels. He wondered if any were brave enough to try their shenanigans on Chuck too. Closing his eyes, he mumbled, "Sounds like fun."

The humans joined the conversation with Dean demanding to hear specifics. Raphael half-listened as Gabriel launched into a story that seemed to contain more incriminating details than anything exonerating. Castiel occasionally whispered things to Samuel. The boy's laughter was the best sound he'd heard in ages.

While the flock playfully bickered, the Healer modulated his own grace's resonance. He used it to sing directly to the young grace on wavelengths outside the human range. It was a technique he'd created in his early days as a caretaker—mostly during Gabriel's infancy, when the tiny typhoon refused to calm down. He had been amazed to learn humans had developed a similar method using the harmonies of singing bowls to activate different energy centers.

Raphael was willing to use ever tool at his disposal if it meant keeping the skittish fledgling calm. Never had he experienced such resistance toward healing from another angel, but he was starting to appreciate how difficult Gabriel's past two weeks must had been. The battle for Samuel's trust renewed with each passing minute.

When Gabriel had returned so quickly after flying away to answer Castiel's call, Raphael knew they'd been out of time. Watching the boy fight his own instincts was gut wrenching—an entirely new and uncomfortable emotional response for the archangel. The grace-soul had rolled with desperation through the whole ordeal. But Samuel forced it down, not allowing it to reach for any source of safety. Raphael could not tell if it was done consciously or as a preconditioned response. Either way, the willpower alone was daunting.

Samuel's behavior after consenting to healing had given Raphael pause. A single touch made the boy freeze, like prey spotted by a predator. Did he think the archangel would grab him by the burned wings? It confounded the Healer even more when the fledgling flew into a panic from being swaddled in grace. He prayed he never again witnesses an angel fight against their own instincts.

Humming softly, he was pleased to note how far the boy had come since they'd started. The young grace reached for him now, recognizing him as someone safe. He welcomed it, nourishing the curious nature hiding underneath a layer of nerves. As his fingers threaded through it, the burnt-smell grew stronger. Raphael could see clearly where the damaged portions had all been pushed to the ends of the budding wings. He exhaled—the grace was actually functioning as it should and in their favor.

What do you think? How bad is it? Gabriel's worry was palpable.

Raphael met his brother's eyes. I have seen worse during war, but it is not great. His grace is trying to molt the burnt parts. Removing them manually will not be pleasant for him. He leaned in closer and saw how quickly grace was trickling into the wings. And it appears that his system is not properly maintaining itself. His levels are rising too quickly.

Yeah, that's an everyday thing for us. If he doesn't use it a lot, it builds up. If he gets upset, it builds up and shocks anyone too close. He's learned how to release it himself, but I still have to step in when it happens too fast. Gabriel grimaced.

Raphael filed that away to contemplate in depth later—for now it helped him to better understand Samuel's current situation. I need to remove the damage, and place a protective layer around the exposed grace. It is only a temporary solution, though. Samuel will have to be trained to do it himself as soon as he is recovered.

Angels naturally developed the barrier around their grace within their first few years of life when they were barely more than a tiny ball of light. For Samuel to learn this all while embodied on Earth was unprecedented. He only hoped the fledgling would accept him as a teacher.

"Your grace is very strong, Samuel," Raphael said, gaining everyone's attention, "It has done most of my work for me. What I am going to do is remove the damaged grace. It may hurt a little, but I will be careful and work fast. Alright?"

Samuel's head raised slightly off the pillow, "Yeah. Go ahead." He sounded nervous but resolute before burying his head in his arms again. Everyone else looked to the Healer in anticipation.

Raphael allowed his grace to build in his palms until they glowed with pure white light. Even though he had done this many times before, it was still a delicate procedure. If he encountered anything more than a slight tangle or catch, he was ready to act.

Starting at the base of the wing, he drew his fingers through the entire length of healthy grace. He was pleased to find it no sign of the previous restless rage. It now flowed calmly and unhindered by blockages. He focused on the border of the burn.

Molecule by molecule, Raphael severed the dead grace from the wing. Pieces fell off into his hand as easily as a dried leaf from a branch. He incinerated them with a thought.

Samuel stayed silent through the whole process. The only sign of discomfort were the beads of sweat that had formed along his hairline. When Raphael reached the final part, he had to give it a little tug. The boy's muscles flinched and he heard Castiel quickly whisper reassurances. The decayed grace vanished, and Raphael let out a sigh.

"I have finished removing all the damage," he said, still grooming through the wings, "Rest now. I will place a seal around your wings so they can't interact with the physical world. You have done very well, child." There was a long pause before he saw a slight shake of curls as Samuel nodded. Raphael frowned in concern and looked to Castiel.

The seraph echoed his worry. He won't look at me, he said silently. Propping himself up more on his elbows, Castiel lifted the boy's face with gentle fingers. "Sam, are you alright?"

Raphael leaned over and saw the strained expression surrounding glassy hazel eyes. His face was red, streaked with sweat and possibly tears. Samuel didn't seem to hear him at first. Castiel repeated the question while pushing the drenched curls off his forehead. The boy slowly blinked and focused his eyes on the seraph without answering. Raphael did a quick scan, but found almost everything healed.

"Samuel, what is wrong?" Castiel tried in Enochian.

Samuel cleared his throat. "I-I'm okay," he rasped.

"Are you in pain?" Castiel asked. It was obvious something was still affecting the boy.

"No. Not really. It...it just," he broke off, sighing, "It felt like..."

"Like what?" the seraph pushed.

"Soul-touching," Samuel murmured, rubbing his face against the pillow. "I'm good now. It just took me by surprise."

Raphael looked to Gabriel for an explanation. The younger archangel winced. He's had plenty of experience with having his soul touched—even outside of the cage. Lucifer tried to kill Sam that way a few months ago.

The Healer's eyes flashed with understanding. He grounded himself, steadying his emotions before the fledgling picked up on them. It would be unfair if Samuel had silently endured the healing only to be undone by Raphael's anger.

"We are almost done," he promised, replacing his hands on the boy's back. Raphael returned to humming as he coated the shapeless wings in a layer of his own grace. He ran open palms over the surface, safely barricading them from the physical world.

The effect was almost instant—Samuel's body shivered once, then melted into the pillows as most of the tension drained away. "Thank God." The words were muffled, but audible to the angels.

Raphael smiled, and felt the relief of everyone in the room. He ran his hands a few more times over the wings before gently folding them against the boy's back. They may not have 'feathers' yet, but they would soon enough. It took time to form the intricate pathways required for flight.

His hands stroked down the wings and along Samuel's spine before returning to his shoulders. Repeating the motion, Raphael channeled more grace as he began a light massage. The welts and bruises peppering the boy's skin faded with each pass of his hand. He worked the healing energy deeper, to the bruised grace, and heard it purr in response.

As he finished, Raphael adjusted the grace-wrap to alert him to any changes. It would provide steady heat and energy to the boy's system while he rested. "There we go," he whispered, pulling the blanket all the way up to Samuel's shoulders and smoothing it down against his sides, "All done, little one. You sleep now."

"M'no'tr'd," Samuel slurred, turning his head enough to talk. Raphael frowned and tried to interpret his words. A glance at Gabriel proved fruitless—the younger archangel just shrugged.

Dean sighed with a soft laugh, "Yes, you are. Go to sleep."

"Mm'not!"

"Yes, you are. Go to sleep."

Raphael smile fondly—the boy sounded so much like Gabriel. Standing carefully from the bed, he waved Dean over to take his place. Sometimes, little brothers just needed their big brothers.

I know what you're thinking! Gabriel's voice invaded his thoughts. He turned to see his brother scowling. Your face is all...gooey.

I believe your imagination has made you delusional, my dear Gabriel.

Samuel blinked, his eyes heavy. "No, I…"

Dean slid onto the bed and fussed with the blankets. "You what? Need to do laundry? Research?" he scoffed. "I hope it's something that doesn't require more effort than drooling, because I don't think you could scratch your own nose right now."

Samuel's face scrunched up comically. "Jerk...now my nose itches." He rubbed it on his pillow, unconsciously proving Dean's point by failing to use his free hand.

Raphael stood by the doorway as the hunter stretch out alongside the fledgling. Gabriel appeared by his side, too lazy to walk across the room. They continued to watch the brothers in silence.

"Quit snotting on your pillow, and go to sleep," Dean combed his fingers through the younger boy curls.

"M'not..."

Dean brought his hand down to gently rest over Samuel's eyes, quieting him. "Dude—sleep."

Samuel mumbled something.

"Yeah, Sam, I'll stay," Dean said, getting comfortable.

Tiny fingers peeled Dean's hand away from his face. The hunter allowed it, grinning when the boy didn't let go. They rested their hands between them on the pillow.

"'s'too?"

"Yesm Cas will stay too. Won't you, Cas?" Dean said. He sent a seraph a look that dared him to say otherwise.

"Of course I'll stay," Castiel said, looking startled and still holding the fledgling's other hand. He shifted slightly, then asked, "Did you mean in the bed?"

"Yes, he meant in the bed," Dean whispered fiercely before his brother could answer, "Lay down all the way. He's already got a hold on you—you may as well just get comfortable. And if you wake him up, then you are responsible for getting him back to sleep, capiche?"

"I...capiche." Castiel turned wide eyes on the archangels by the door.

Gabriel threw him a thumbs-up. You're doing great, baby bro!

Raphael elbowed the younger archangel, earning himself a glare. It is promising to see Samuel has bonded so closely with you, Castiel. You are a wonderful caretaker. He grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the empty twin bed and shook it out over Dean.

I told you, Cassie. You missed your calling when they made you a soldier, Gabriel said.

Raphael looked around the room, his eyes landing on the Winchester mother. She was sitting on the twin bed, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. He smiled and made his way over to her. With care and a little grace, he eased her down on the bed and covered her with another blanket.

Turning around, he saw Castiel staring up at him. After a moment of hesitation, Raphael placed his hand on the seraph's shoulder. Savor the beauty of this moment, Castiel. Even if he remains a fledgling for centuries, it still won't be long enough.

Gabriel lowered the lights and sat on the sofa. Raphael checked on Samuel again and was relieved to find him sleeping. Once everyone was adequately covered in blankets, he settled in next to the other archangel.

Lollipop?

A brightly colored chunk of sugar on a stick was shoved under his nose. Raphael felt one of his eyes twitch. It was going to be a long night.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Happy February 14th!
I heard it's a special day. One that involves lots of candy and costumes.
Is it early-Halloween? ;)

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Comments keep my soul fed (and sane)!