AFTER THE STORM
PART 5: NOW I CLING TO WHAT I KNEW
Sam awoke in stages, floating to consciousness on a cozy cloud. He was wonderfully warm, his mind half-wrapped in sleep. His limbs were heavy and too lazy to respond, and for once it all felt fantastic. There was only peace and contentment.
He let himself drift until hushed voices caught his ear. They were nothing but quiet murmurs—sounds without meaning. He recognized one—it was coming from inside his pillow. His moving pillow.
With a groan, Sam forced his eyes to open. He blinked several times before the haze lifted, making way for a healthy dose of embarrassment. At some point in the night, Sam had apparently moved from his platform of pillows to end up draped over Dean. His brother's left arm pinned him in place. The entire situation was impossible to escape without being noticed.
"Well, look who decided to join us," Dean whispered, his voice still gruff from sleep. It didn't seem like he'd been awake for very long.
Sam tried to roll over but something solid was in his way. Pushing up onto his elbows, he looked over his shoulder to find Castiel sitting very close. "Hey Cas," he started, then trailed off when he noticed how the angel's trench coat had been multi-purposed to serve as the brothers' blanket. In a room with more blankets than people, why on Earth was he wrapped in the corner of Castiel's coat? "Did something happen?" he asked.
"You started having a nightmare," Castiel answered quietly, as though that explained everything. The angel helped Sam unwrap himself from the fabric and sit up.
"Umm, okay," Sam said, looking to Dean for further explanation. Nightmares were not new—he'd had them his entire life. But they hadn't led to a damn cuddle pile since they were both little kids sharing a bed.
Dean shrugged and pushed himself up against the headboard with a grin. "You got a bit restless last night. At least you didn't drool too much." Sam wiped his mouth automatically and Dean chuckled.
Looking around, Sam saw that Mary was fast asleep and the archangels were suspiciously absent. He stretched, noticing for the first time how different he felt. All of the pain was gone, but his body still braced for it when he moved. Rolling his shoulders, he was startled by the sudden vibrations in the center of his back.
Sam tried to see over his shoulders, but he could only manage to make out a faint glow. "What the...?"
"Do they hurt?" Castiel asked, leaning forward anxiously. "I've called—"
Gabriel appeared next to them in a cloud of flour. "What's wrong?!"
"Nothing's wrong," Sam coughed and waved his hand to fan the flour away. "Were you in some kind of baking battle?"
"Oh God, my kitchen!" Dean croaked in horror.
Raphael flew in, completely spotless, and gave his brother a disapproving frown. "Really, Gabriel?" He waved a hand and the mess of powder disappeared. The Healer then turned to Sam with a smile. "Good morning, Samuel. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Sam answered, trying not to shrink under the archangel's gaze. Now that Sam could access his grace again, Raphael was even more intimidating. In fact, the presence of the two archangels filled the room with power. The vibrations on his back thrummed, sending shivers down his spine and a heat across his shoulders.
"Ahh," Raphael said with understanding before stepping back. He lowered himself onto the mattress and appeared to grow smaller.
"'Ahh' what?" Sam hated feeling like he'd missed something. He looked at Gabriel, reaching back between his shoulder blades. "What's happening here? It's weird."
"It's just your wings moving around, kiddo." Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Dean's feet over. The hunter gave a halfhearted kick before relinquishing the space.
"Is this normal?" he asked. As his frustration rose, the wings shifted more. "Are they going to do this a lot? Move around all on their own? Because I didn't ask them to move."
"Well.." Gabriel bit his lip. Sam stared him down until he answered. "They'll probably be doing that for a while—at least until you learn to control them. Right now, they're reacting to your emotions and thoughts on a kind of instinctive level."
"What?!" Sam's arms flailed for a second as the wings almost toppled him over. Mercifully, Castiel grabbed his hand and kept him upright. "Are you saying I'm basically wearing a giant mood ring on my back?"
"Don't worry, dude—I can't see your mood wings ," Dean said with too much cheer. "Which is really too bad, because I would pay money to see how those things interpret your bitch-face."
The scowl Sam gave his brother was second nature. He wasn't expecting Gabriel to burst out laughing. "You're right, Deano. You would pay money to see them."
Raphael cleared his throat, and Sam found himself grateful to the older archangel for drawing the others' attention. "It is completely normal, Samuel. And you will learn to control them, but not until they are done forming. We can teach you theory and work on your other grace-related abilities, but your wings won't be flight-ready for a couple of weeks."
Sam tried to smile but felt it come out more as a grimace. He couldn't help it—the grace already made his emotions sit on the surface. To know that everything he tried to keep contained inside was now going to physically manifest for any angel to see was one of his worst-case scenarios.
"I'm guessing they feel pretty different." Gabriel leaned closer to get a better look at Sam's wings.
"If, by 'different' you mean 'like my spine is a guitar string being strummed,' then yes, I feel different." Sam hissed in irritation when the electric hum sitting just under his skin intensified.
"That's a pretty accurate description. Now, does anything hurt?" Gabriel asked, growing serious.
Sam shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I'm not in pain like yesterday. It's just... weird ." He didn't know how else to convey how disconcerting it was to develop new limbs.
"That doesn't answer his question, Sam," Dean said with a pointed look, "Don't get me wrong—I'm glad you're not hurting like you were yesterday, but considering the state you were in twenty-four hours ago, that isn't saying much."
Sam pulled his right foot into his lap and inspected the sole. Fresh pink skin had replaced the seared mess, erasing all evidence of injury. He ran a finger over the smooth surface and was almost disturbed by the lack of discomfort. It was like the whole torturous affair had only been a dream. "No," he finally said in a quiet voice. "It doesn't hurt at all."
"What about your...back?" Dean pressed. The hunter was frowning in concentration, like he thought he might be able to see the wings if he stared hard enough.
"It's annoying, but not painful. I don't know how to explain it. Besides, I've barely moved in two days. I won't know how everything is doing until I've had the chance to walk like a person again." He peered over the edge of the mattress at the ground. It wasn't that far, but the last thing he wanted to do was crumple to the floor on weak legs in front of so many attentive eyes. "Dean, can you...?" He held out a hand, hoping his brother would understand.
Dean looked skeptical. "You sure you're ready for walking when sitting is such a challenge?"
Sam kept his hand out, insisting, "My injuries were just fixed by three angels—one of whom is the most powerful healer in existence besides God Himself. I think I should be able to walk."
"Alright," Dean said, still sounding doubtful, "If you say so. Any objections from the God-Squad?"
Sam opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself when he saw the archangels turn to silently confer with each other. Gabriel's face was almost comically fretful and he wrung his hands together as though preventing himself from picking Sam up. But his pleading eyes were met with calm amusement from the Healer who simply shook his head and smiled.
"Samuel is correct," Raphael said aloud, "He can walk, Gabriel."
Sam shared an exasperating look with Castiel who just shrugged as though to say, 'what can we do?'
Dean waited for Gabriel to nod before he gave in. "Alright, dude, just make sure you take it easy. Jesus, you don't even have socks. Where did your socks go?" Without waiting for an answer, he dug through the bedding until he found the one Sam had kicked off in the night. "I forgot you only had one on last night. You can't—"
"I swear, if you tell me I can't walk without socks on both feet..." Sam trailed off, unsure how to finish the threat.
The 'woosh' of wings sounded from behind him, and Sam turned quickly, fearing a new arrival. But worry turned to confusion when he realized Castiel had suddenly left them. They sat in silence, staring at the empty space on the bed where the angel had sat through the night, until a moment later when Castiel returned. He was carrying what appeared to be every bundled pair of socks that sat in Sam's drawers. "There is no use arguing over little things when there are simple solutions," the angel said directly to Dean. The hunter's only response was an impressive eye-roll.
"Thanks, Cas," Sam said. Somehow, Castiel always knew the right thing to do or say around him, and constantly supported Sam's decisions. He still wasn't used to it.
Castiel bowed his head and gave a brief smile. "You are welcome," he said as he held out the socks. A few pairs tumbled off the top of the pile and landed on the bed. "I wasn't sure which pair you would prefer."
Sam blinked through the rush of emotion. Why did the little things feel so important? The small decisions that gave him back control piece by piece—how did Castiel understand him so well? He nodded and reached for a pair that had rolled next to him.
"Give it time and you'll get used to having them. And once you learn how to use those babies, you'll love them." Gabriel sounded so confident that Sam didn't have the heart to contradict him. "Are you hungry? I was teaching Raphael how to make pancakes. Spoiler alert—he's an old, old man who tried to stifle my creativity."
"I did not try to stifle your creativity. I merely observed that the amount of sugar you wanted to add to the batter was obscene," Raphael countered. "And need I remind you that I am not that much older than you, brother? You remain one of the oldest beings in all of creation—you have no room to brag about youthfulness."
"For Dad's sake, Raphael. Don't say it like that! At least not in front of the kids. I'll lose all my credibility as the cool-archangel." Gabriel winked at Castiel.
"I am not a child, Gabriel." Castiel argued.
"Of course not, Cassie. You're a big-angel." Gabriel patted Castiel's leg and stood up. "So, are you hungry?"
Sam thought about it and was surprised to find that he probably could eat—which was unheard of after everything he'd just been through. He looked suspiciously at Gabriel. "Kinda. Did you do something?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Don't look at me like that! It's the healing—you used up a lot of energy the last couple days, and having that much grace-work done at once is even more exhausting. Your body needs replenishing now that it isn't focused on fixing itself. Come on, all of you. Let's give your mom some more time to sleep."
"Too late." They all jumped at the groggy voice that came from the other bed. Mary was slowly sitting up. Her tangled blond hair stuck out in every direction and there were pillow marks on her cheeks.
Mary in the morning was one of Sam's favorite sights now. She always seemed so put together through the day, but she woke up just as messy as everyone else. Sam thought she was perfect.
"Sorry. We didn't mean to wake you up," Sam said sheepishly. Even after two weeks, he still felt a little lost around their mother.
Mary waved off his apology, yawning, and tied her hair up in a wild knot. "You're looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. How are you feeling?"
"All better!" Sam said, putting on his best smile, and Dean snorted.
Mary rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then studied each person in turn. The only thing that would have made them look more suspicious was if Gabriel had still been coated in flour. "Really?" she asked, unconvinced.
"Why does she think you have a bushy-tail?" Castiel whispered to Sam.
"It's a saying—it means someone's alert and ready to go," Sam explained, jumping on the change of topic.
Mary's eyes softened, and Sam suspected he was more transparent than usual now. "I think it's supposed to allude to a squirrel. You know, how they always look so excited and eager and happy as they bounce around."
"I thought Dean was usually referred to as a squirrel." Castiel sounded even more confused.
"Okay!" Dean stood abruptly. "Time for breakfast. I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Come on, Sammy."
Sam clumsily crawled through the mess of blankets to the edge of the bed. His limbs were like cumbersome weights and caused him to pitch forward toward the floor. Hands instantly caught him.
"Whoa there, speedy," Gabriel said, placing him carefully back on the bed. "Sorry, I forgot to take the rest of the grace-wrap off of you. Hold on. There you go."
The heaviness dissolved, leaving Sam feeling weightless and dizzy as a rush of energy flowed through him. His senses sharpened and his mind became fully alert like he'd just chugged a whole pot of coffee. A casual desire for food grew to gnawing hunger and his stomach growled.
"Yup. Time for food. And I hope you showed up covered in flour because you cooked instead of the Doc," Dean gestured at Raphael as he swung his feet to the ground. "I doubt he appreciates bacon like us."
"Doc?" Raphael asked slowly, as though he were testing a foreign word.
"Isn't that what you are? The angel doctor or something?" Dean frowned.
"Ah, yes, I am known as the Healer, but it is more of a title."
"Yeah, I'm not calling you that," Dean said, shaking his head.
"You could call me Raphael," the Healer suggested.
Dean just grunted and reached to take Sam's hands. "We'll see," he mumbled.
Sam carefully slid to the floor. He still felt weightless from the wrap's removal and he barely noticed he was standing. The absence of pain left him almost numb. He kept his hold on Dean as he shifted his weight back and forth between feet, testing his strength and balance. "I think I'm good," he said, letting go of his brother's hands.
Dean kept one in his grip, refusing to let Sam stand alone quite yet. "Uh huh, and what happens if you get startled and those wings knock you on your ass?"
"Then I guess I'll learn to live with a bruised butt." Sam tried to tug his hand loose. "I thought that would be your favorite part about all this. Quit acting like you aren't going to be waiting with the camera and cheesy one-liners."
"Puh-lease. No one here is learning to live with bruises while we're around," Gabriel interrupted, gesturing at the other two angels.
Sam used the distraction to slip free of his brother and started walking toward the hallway. His heart beat faster just knowing everyone was watching him. If he could make it to his own room, then maybe he could lock the door and gain a few seconds of privacy.
"Dean, why don't we let your brother get himself dressed while we go check on the others. And I'm sure Gabriel wouldn't mind starting breakfast." Mary gently, but firmly, directed the others.
Sam didn't dare glance behind him, but he allowed a sigh of relief to escape as he turned the corner and left the room. He heard the rest of them give varying grumbles in reply before moving off in different directions.
A single set of footsteps drew closer. Sam took a deep breath before turning to see who'd followed him. The tension building in his shoulders drained away when he saw Castiel.
"We're you sent to make sure I don't accidentally die putting on pants?" Sam asked.
"They are all quite protective of you," Castiel said with a nod, not denying Sam's question. "It will probably continue until the memory of their earlier helplessness has faded. I cannot speak to Dean and Mary's experience of trying to reach you, but I do know that Gabriel and I...well, 'frantic' does not adequately describe our state."
"Yeah," Sam winced, knowing he and Dean tended to react when the other was in danger, "I'm used to Dean going a bit overboard after a bad hunt. But we've never had a whole group fussing over us before. It's, umm, a little much sometimes."
"I think I understand."
Sam looked up at Castiel. "You do?"
"As a soldier of Heaven, I grew accustomed to being invisible. 'Lost in a crowd,' as humans say. My superiors treated me as a tool, and when I strayed from my path, I was re-shaped to suite their purpose." Castiel pushed Sam's door open to let them in, then closed it behind them. "Some of my early memories were lost to Heaven's reprogramming. I only have a vague sense of how Heaven used to be before Lucifer's fall. And even then, I was considered a loner."
"And now, you have two over-bearing big brothers who want to coddle you at every turn?" Sam asked.
"Gabriel has been easier to adjust to—he has always been different from the rest of the flock for his playful and creative nature. But Raphael..." Castiel trailed off, shaking his head, and sat on Sam's bed with his back turned for privacy.
Sam grabbed clothes at random and quickly stripped. "Yeah, I can see how that could be awkward. You guys didn't have the best history, what with killing each other and stuff."
Castiel huffed. "He says he forgives me."
"Do you doubt him? Like he's lying to get you on his good side?" Sam started as his heart picked up speed again.
"No," Castiel said, bewildered, "I know he is sincere."
"Then why do you sound like someone just told you Santa Claus is real?"
"He also said our Father forgives me." Castiel's voice dropped to a near-whisper.
"Oh." Sam paused with only one leg through his black cotton pants. They were similar to adult workout clothes and one step above pajamas—perfect for lounging around post-injury. He shook his head and rushed to finish so he could face Castiel. "That sounds...heavy."
"Yes, it is," the angel's shoulders sagged, "especially considering He never said anything to me while He was here."
"Yeah, that's weird. My dad was kinda the same way." Sam grabbed the gray sweater and walked around the bed to stand in front of his friend. "Dean said that Dad would secretly check up on me when I went to Stanford. I spent four years thinking he'd wiped my existence from memory. He did things like that all the time—send vague messages through Dean and assume I'd understand he loved me."
"Our Father left after Lucifer fell, but He never really spoke to the seraphs. There was a rigid hierarchy in Heaven, and few ever strayed from their place to interact with others." Castiel gave Sam a sad smile. "After spending so much time searching for Him, I guess I had hoped for more than a message sent through another."
"I'm sorry, Cas." Sam laid a hand over the angel's arm.
"Thank you, Sam. And I am sorry too. You deserved better from John."
"Yeah," Sam whispered, blinking rapidly. He felt the thrumming between his shoulder blades just as he was thrown forward into the bed. The air left his lungs with an audible 'oomph' and he grabbed hold of the blanket for balance.
Castiel chuckled, and Sam would have glared if he thought move wouldn't cause him to fall. The vibrations grew sharper and he wished he could scratch them. A hand came to rest on the top of his back, just above where the wings seemed rooted. "These are very expressive, aren't they?" Castiel's smooth tones carried a hint of amusement.
"What are they doing? " Sam groaned.
"Manifesting your irritation," Castiel answered simply. His hand kneaded into the tense muscle, then moved down to run over the wings. The thrumming instantly stilled under his touch and Sam huffed into the mattress.
"Do they look as ridiculous as they feel?" Sam tried to joke.
"No more so than any emotional expression," Castiel tilted his head in contemplation of the question. "Do you think I look ridiculous when I smile? Does Dean when he cries?" The wings flared against the angel's palm, and he again calmed them.
"I don't mean..." Sam drew away, worried he'd offended Castiel, but there was only concern and understanding in those blue eyes. "No, of course you don't look ridiculous, but there's still an element of control there. You could easily not smile. And Dean only cries when things are at their worst—like end-of-the-world bad. Normally, we suppress things until we can have our breakdowns in privacy."
"I am constantly amazed by human limitations when it comes to emotions." Castiel shook his head. "One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was how to express myself in a human vessel. It is very different for angels, as you are just now learning. We share everything through our grace, and there is a shared unspoken language built around nuance and harmonies, gestures and colors, all of which does not register on the physical plane as you know it."
"But I don't know any of that unspoken language, Cas. I may have been turned into some kind of angel, but I didn't get a handbook with instructions. This grace doesn't feel like it's part of me—and I definitely don't feel like an angel."
"I cannot imagine how this has been for you," Castiel said as he continued to slowly run his hands over the agitated grace. It felt so different from Gabriel's grooming sessions or when Raphael had worked on them the night before. Sam wondered if all the angels would start petting him now. "When I became human, the adjustment was not easy. It took me weeks to recognize and name my physical needs—hunger, exhaustion, and a full bladder were things I knew of conceptually but not personally."
"I'm so sorry, Cas. You should have never had to be alone while..."
"Sam, you were hardly in a position to change the situation," Castiel cut him off. "The point is, learning to be human was much easier than it was learning how to be not an angel. I felt blind and deaf and mute. And so very, very small."
"Oh, I'm feeling pretty small here too," Sam said wryly.
Castiel returned it with his usual half-grin. "That is true. You are the first angel to have a physical aspect to their true-form. And I have no doubt that you will be a fast learner when it comes to using your grace."
"Remember when my biggest goal in life was to be as normal as possible?" Sam sighed wistfully.
"And now you are unique among all of creation." Castiel said with a raised eyebrow.
"Pretty much." Sam rolled his shoulders, but his wings remained still. Maybe his grace just needed him to vent a little. "Am I good to put on a shirt now? I've never been a walk-around-topless kinda guy."
"Yes. The fabric won't interfere with your wings now that Raphael has sealed them." He ran his palm one more time over the grace before pulling away. "We should hurry—I do not want to leave Gabriel and Raphael alone too long. Dean would never forgive them if they destroy his kitchen."
"I will never forgive you if you destroy my kitchen. Got it, short-stuff?" Dean stared down the archangel with the authority of one who'd fought with designers of the universe—and won.
"Whoa there, bring it down a few notches! I promise the kitchen is in perfect condition, Deano." Gabriel crossed his vessels heart and held up three fingers in the Boy Scout sign.
"Only because I cleaned it when you flew off," Raphael casually mentioned.
"Which I knew you would do, you predictable old coot! Who cares how it got done?"
"Gabriel..." Dean started, but cut off when the archangel raised a finger for silence.
Gabriel looked in the direction Sam and Castiel had gone, listening for a moment. Whatever he heard seemed to be reassuring and he turned to them with a serious expression. "Before Sam comes back, I wanted to let you know that I hacked into the Brit's laptop last night."
Thoughts of the kitchen evaporated, his mind switching immediately into hunter's mode. "And?" he demanded.
"And it's not pretty. They kept detailed notes and video logs of Sam's captivity. I wanted to let you know before we talked to Sam about it—give everyone a chance to get their rage out. When we have our routine grooming session later, y'all can check it out. I figured we'd give the kid some time to settle before we ask him anything." Gabriel glanced toward Sam's room again.
"Why do we need to question him?" Dean paced, the need for action building. His fingers itched to get hold of the laptop so he could know.
"We don't need to question him," Gabriel said slowly, staring at Dean like he was a riddle, "He needs to talk about it."
"What, like a therapy session?" Dean snorted. He may joke about Sam's love of chick-flick moments, but neither of them were big on sharing their personal pains. They usually only tolerated the emotional scenes together when it directly concerned the other brother—wrongs they had done, confessing lies and manipulations, or their too-frequent 'last conversation before certain death.'
"Yes, like a therapy session." Gabriel crossed his arms. "I know you guys aren't big on discussing your feelings, but this wasn't exactly a skinned knee. Were you...were you not planning on talking to him about it?"
"I dunno." Dean shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with everyone's overly concerned eyes. "We've got a routine."
"Involving copious amounts of alcohol?" Gabriel asked.
Dean opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "I didn't say our routine wasn't in need of some revisions."
"That's putting it mildly." Gabriel smirked. "Tell me again how you managed to talk my Dad and His sister into reconciling?"
"Because he has a blunt tongue, a bold heart, and a sharp eye," Raphael said. "Which are good traits when dealing with our stubborn Father. But your brother may need a gentler approach."
Dean took a deep breath, taken aback by Raphael's description. "I...I was gonna give him some space. Stick to the basics for a couple days, make sure he eats and sleeps, see how he behaves. If I saw something off, we'd sort it out."
"You will not have to 'sort it out' alone," Raphael reassured him, firmly clasping Dean's shoulder, "You have us and there is time to form an actual plan."
Dean's eyes stared at the hand touching him, then looked up into the archangel's kind face. "Uh, thanks, I guess. But I'm not the one you have to worry about."
"What do you mean?" Mary finally spoke. He's seen her silently watching them from where she still sat on the edge of her bed.
"You think it was hard to get him to drink a glass of milk last night?" Dean looked at each of them in turn. "Give it a day or two. You ain't seen nothing yet."
Before anyone could respond, Gabriel half-jumped in place. "Oh, they're almost done and I haven't finished breakfast! Last one to the kitchen does the dishes." He snapped and disappeared.
Mary rolled her eyes and got up. "Come on. You can try to keep him out of trouble while I go check on Jody and the twins."
"Thanks for giving me the easy task." He joked, nudging her lightly with his elbow as they walked into the hallway. He didn't expect her instant retaliation in the form of a solid hip-check that sent him bouncing into the wall. "Woman!"
"Don't start something you can't finish, young man," she wagged her finger at him as she breezed past.
"You know, technically I'm older than you!" Dean called after her.
"That's nice dear!" she called back without turning around.
Dean stopped in his tracks, staring at her retreating form. He searched desperately for a better comeback, but she was gone before he could form words. Instead, he leaned against the wall outside his brother's room and grinned. It was little moments like these that drove home the reality of their mother's return and he loved it.
"She is a very interesting woman," Raphael said.
"Ah!" Dean jumped, forgetting the archangel was still there. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—don't do that!" he yelled, clutching his chest and glaring up at the towering figure. How had he never realized how tall Raphael's new vessel was?
Raphael's expression turned concerned and he took a step forward. "Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not! You gave me a heart attack!" he swore under his breath and hoped Sam hadn't heard the undignified squeal. "I swear, if I have to train the whole damn host...it took threatening Cas with a bell if he didn't quit sneaking up on me for him to learn."
"A bell?"
The door to Sam's room opened, cutting off Dean's response. Castiel stood there, eyeing the two with a blend of worry and suspicion. "What—"
"Everything's fine," Dean snapped, "I'm putting bells on all your brothers."
Castiel's gaze darted to Raphael, and he relaxed with understanding. "Ah. I see," he said with a nod, "You do realize I have thousands of siblings, right? It will take you a lot of time, and bells, to get them all."
"Then I guess I better start now," Dean shot back.
"Nice scream, Dean." Sam teased from Castiel's side. "For a second, I thought you might have been turned into a kid too. Or a banshee."
"What was that?" Dean asked, crouching down to Sam's level. He cupped his hand behind his ear for effect. "I couldn't hear you from way up there. You said you want juice instead of coffee at breakfast this week?"
"You wouldn't..."
"In a sippy cup?"
Sam's scowl changed so quickly Dean almost dropped their game. The familiar frown gave way to another well-known, more disarming tactic. Enormous, watery eyes peered up at Dean through curly bangs as Sam chewed on his bottom lip. Damn it but the kid had perfected his routine before he'd left diapers.
"Don't you dare..." Dean started, trying to ward off the surge of big-brother instinct that always accompanied such a look.
Sam shifted his eyes to Castiel and dialed it up to an eleven. "Cas..." he said in a small, pitiful voice.
Dean turned to the angels and knew they were already lost causes. Whatever they saw when they looked at Sam had made them useless piles of mush. He didn't know Castiel's face could be so soft. Flicking Sam's nose to get his attention, Dean warned, "If you play the cute-kid card, then I will carry you around and make you take naps."
They stared each other down until Sam eventually relented. The kid rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Truce."
Dean smiled in victory, secretly grateful—his knees were about to give out from crouching so long. "Yeah, sure. Come on. We gotta make sure Gabe hasn't destroyed my kitchen." His joints cracked loudly when he pushed himself to standing. Sam smirked at the sound, but wisely kept his mouth shut about it.
They walked slowly to the kitchen, all of them letting Sam set the pace. Dean hung toward the back of the group so he could observe his brother. So far, the kid seemed alright—a little shaky at times, but he only stumbled once.
The playful banter and teasing let Dean know that Sam was trying to put everyone at ease. It was usually Dean's tactic, but Sam had used it when he thought others might worry. And while Sam-the-Smartass-Comedian was a hell of a lot better than Curled-in-a-Corner-Terrified-Sam, it was still a mask.
He'd actually expected his brother to be more shutdown than anything. Then Dean would be focused on slowly drawing Sam out of his cocoon. If Sam was this feisty so soon after being kidnapped and tortured, it usually meant they'd be dealing with fast-changing mood swings. He'd be surprised if Sam didn't have at least one angry outburst by dinnertime.
The sound of laughter and jazz poured out of the kitchen as they walked in. Everyone was awake and gathered around the center island. A feast of comfort foods arranged in bright-colored bowls was spread out on the table. It was like walking into a New Orleans street cafe.
Gabriel, with a skillet in each hand, juggled pancakes from one surface to the next in an amazing feat of dexterity and timing. His eyes lit up when he saw them enter. "We were just about to send a search party!"
Dean ruffled Sam's hair, making a bee-line for the coffee. "Someone isn't as tall as he used to be. You have to compensate extra time for a six-year-old's gait."
Sam snorted and lightly kicked him in the back of the heel. "And someone isn't as young as he used to be. We had to wait to make sure he'd be able to stand from a crouch. He may need one of those LifeAlert buttons on a necklace in case he's alone one day and can't get back up."
The laughter was deafening.
Dean sent a mock-threatening glare at his brother who responded with a cheeky grin. His mind flashed to the previous morning—Sam's face streaked in grime, eyes red from smoke and tears, barely able to speak. Turning, he prepared his coffee with his back to the room, trying to push the images from his mind.
"So, you're Raphael, right?" he heard Alicia ask.
"I am." The low bass of the archangel's voice rumbled through the kitchen clatter.
"Oooh," the twins shivered in unison. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see Max rubbing his arms to get rid of goosebumps. Alicia had her hand over her mouth and was staring in wonder.
Gabriel yelled something in Enochian that made Castiel and Sam look amused, and slightly horrified, as they waited for the older angel's response. Raphael's voice fell even deeper when speaking the ancient language. Gabriel rattled off more unintelligible words.
Whatever was said had Sam snorting. "Dean's gonna bring you some 'glad tidings' if you don't switch back to English, Gabriel."
Gabriel just laughed. "Heaven forbid Dean Winchester do something angelic!" He clapped his hands as though he didn't already have the room's attention. "Alright, everyone. Here's the thing—this space is a bit too small for all of us, plus dishes. Do we want the war room or outside by the fire? Say the word and I'll move the feast." He raised a hand and waited for an answer.
Dean looked at Sam. The kid was using Castiel as a partial shield, standing just behind his trench-coat. He would have rolled his eyes at Sam's childish behavior if it weren't for the fact that Dean was ready to duck behind Castiel too. Team Free Will was still adjusting to the addition of Mary and Gabriel—nine people in the kitchen made him antsy.
Sam's nervousness grew, his gaze fixed on the floor to avoid making the decision. But was it the overcrowded conditions or the prospect of going outside that was putting him on edge? Dean couldn't tell without at least eye contact.
"Is it warm enough to go outside?" Jody asked.
Gabriel wiggled the fingers of his still-raised hand. "Umm, archangel, remember? Phenomenal cosmic powers include temperature control."
"And an 'itty bitty living space?'" Jody continued the line.
"Did you both just..." Alicia started.
"...quote Genie from Aladdin? " Max finished.
Gabriel answered with a wink.
"Outside. Fresh air might do us some good," Dean decided before someone burst into song. He glanced at Sam and worried he'd chosen wrong. His brother was unconsciously clutching the coat tail. Well, it was too late to change his vote now—it would only draw more attention to Sam. He'd keep an eye on the kid and they'd make a retreat back inside if things turned bad.
Gabriel's eyes darted to Sam, taking in the change. Nodding at Dean with a slightly forced smile, the archangel waved his hand and the made the food disappear. "Outside it is! Come along, youngsters. Have you seen my sweet firepit yet? Never burns out. I don't think those boys even knew they had a yard back there before I came along..." He hooked an arm around Jody and Alicia's waists, leading them out of the kitchen. The others followed close behind them, letting Cas and the brothers fall to the back.
"You good, Sam?" Dean muttered.
Sam let go of Castiel's coat, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. "I'm fine. As long as it's warm," his smile was thin and fake, "and there aren't any more of those banishing bombs."
"Oh." Dean stopped walking. That was what had Sam so anxious—he feared being attacked again? But they had experienced so many other terrible things at the bunker, and Sam hadn't avoided those areas. Had he? Dean couldn't remember now. "Do you wanna stay here? We could make Cas get us plates and binge some Hobbit and Rings."
Sam finally met his eyes only to slap him with a strong scowl. "Cas isn't a servant. We aren't making him do anything—especially get our food. Besides, I was just joking."
"You sure? I don't mind sta—"
"Dean, stop." Sam interrupted.
"Stop what?" Dean asked, bewildered. Forget dinner—at this rate, they wouldn't even make it to breakfast without a major meltdown.
"Stop babying me!" Sam snapped.
"I'm not!" Dean's voice rose in response. He looked at Castiel for back up, but the angel was studying Sam.
"You are, and it's weird. Dude, we were snuggling when I woke up. That is not normal!" Sam's cheeks blazed red.
"Newsflash, Sam—nothing is normal about our lives!" Dean gestured around them with his arms. "In case you missed it, our home is a bunker. And of the nine people who woke up here this morning, two are witches, two are archangels, four have grace, five have killed or been killed by another person present, and six have been resurrected at least once. No one here has any claim on 'normal!'"
Sam's shoulders hunched and let his breath out slowly. "You're right. I'm sorry," he whispered. "Everything's a little disorienting this morning. It's...hard."
Dean nudged him with his toe, but Sam didn't lift his head. "It's cool, man. And if the, umm, 'close sleeping' thing," he refused to say 'snuggle,' "bothered you, then we can wake you up instead. I was just trying to let you get as much sleep as possible—you needed it."
"Hm," Sam grunted, sounding uncomfortable and only half-listening.
"Okay, Sam." Castiel knelt down behind Sam, moving his hands like he was tracing patterns in the air. It took Dean a second to realize he was doing something to Sam's wings...which were apparently spread like a cloak across the kid's shoulders. Sam made a frustrated noise and Castiel huffed a laugh. "Yes, they are as stubborn as you." His hands seemed to gather the wings together and pressed them against the spine. "We can discuss it with Raphael. If there is any truth to Gabriel's stories, then the Healer was Heaven's most stubborn angel. He should know what to do."
Dean watched as the edginess gradually drained away and Sam's shoulders lifted. Hazel eyes, full of unspoken apology, met his own. Dean ruffled Sam's hair in a show of absolution. "We better get up there before Gabe does something stupid, like try to teach the doc how to flirt."
Sam choked on a laugh, his eyes going wide.
Castiel frowned in sudden suspicion. "Do you understand Enochian better than you let on?"
Dean blinked at him. "What?"
"Oh," Castiel blinked back, "I thought...nevermind."
"You thought what?" Dean demanded, but the others started walking away.
"So what's with the name thing?" Sam asked over his shoulder, his mouth twisted in a failed attempt to hide his amusement.
"What name thing? There is no name thing. Did you both get high earlier?" It took less than two steps to catch up. Gone were the days when Dean struggled to keep up with his towering brother. The new snail's pace was turning out to be a harder adjustment.
"Well, now I know there's definitely a name thing," Sam scoffed.
"I thought it was simply Dean's predisposition for giving people nicknames." Castiel's head tilted in consideration.
Dean took it as a sign of his own great self-control that he didn't smack the tilt out of the seraph. "I do not have a pre-whatever for nicknames. It just happens."
"So," Sam said as his grin turned mischievous, "it has nothing to do with the fact that Raphael was your favorite Ninja Turtle?"
"What?!" Dean cursed his voice for cracking in betrayal. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"Sure it is. Don't worry, your secret is safe with us. I'm sure Raphael would never pick up on your thoughts and wonder why a giant man-turtle in a red mask is floating around in your brain whenever his name is mentioned."
"Whatever. At least I wasn't a lame geek who loved boring old Donatello." They reached the bunker's entrance and emerged into the brisk morning air. Dawn light filtered through trees and patches of fog. Laughter echoed from the other side of the building and they slowly walked toward the noise. "In fact, Donatello the Ninja Turtle reminds me an awful lot of Raphael the archangel. Hmm...maybe you two were destined to become besties."
Sam didn't respond immediately. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold to the outside world, the kid had started casing the area. His eyes moved constantly, sweeping from the treeline to the road to the sky. Dean moved closer, wedging Sam between himself and Castiel. It worked—Sam took a shuddering breath and was able to keep talking. "I dunno. Maybe."
"Of course, by the same token Gabriel would obviously be Michelangelo," Dean continued, knowing Sam usually jumped at the chance for some nerd-talk.
"Does that mean Michael would correspond to the leader, Leonardo?" Castiel asked with deadpan seriousness.
Dean and Sam stopped walking, turning in sync to stare at their friend. "Metatron gave you Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles references?" Dean almost felt bad for the douchey angel's demise. Almost.
"Yes, although without cultural context the references are practically meaningless. It is confusing." Castiel looked at Dean. "Can turtles even eat pizza?"
"I am so sorry, Cas," Dean said, placing his hand on the angel's shoulder. "We have clearly neglected your education."
As they made their way to the back yard, the smell of food mingled with the fresh forest air. Dean's stomach growled loudly, making him wish he could scoop Sam up and run to the food. But his brother would complain and likely do something painful in retaliation, so he was forced to tolerate the gnawing hunger for several long minutes.
Gabriel sent him a smirk when they drew closer, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that the archangel had heard their conversation. "Come on, dudes. We almost started without you."
Dean groaned while Sam laughed.
The food was spread across a newly-extended picnic table. Several coffee carafes had been placed among the dishes. Steam rolled up from the table carrying enough savory scents to make Dean's mouth water. He made a bee-line for the area that held his recognizable favorites and sat down. Everyone else slowly drifted in to fill the bench seats.
Dean was so distracted by the perfection of the fried potatoes that he almost missed Sam struggling to get on the bench next to him. They were near the end of the table, and it looked like Sam was intending on using him to shield against the crowd. But that was cool—he understood. The only times they ever ate around this many people were when they happened to be in a diner surrounded by strangers. He scooted over a few inches to give Sam more room as Castiel took the end seat across from them.
Without saying a word, Dean poured Sam some coffee. Gabriel passed down a plate full of fresh fruits and eggs. Sam whispered his thanks as everything was placed in front of him, then promptly attacked the food with gusto. Dean tried to answer him, but his mouth was crammed full of hot cinnamon roll goodness.
The meal had barely begun when Dean felt Sam tense. "Sam?" he asked quietly, not wanting to gain everyone's attention.
"What is that?" Sam directed the question at Castiel. He sounded disgusted, and it put Dean on edge.
"Well, well, well, what have we here? A breakfast party in the garden, eh? Shall I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?" The newcomer stood at the head of the table, just inches away from Sam and Castiel. His impeccable black suite was out of place among all the casual clothes and pajamas and rampant bed-head.
The hair went up on the back of Dean's neck as the energy around him spiked. "Oh, Crowley. You really should have called ahead."
(BONUS: ENOCHIAN CONVERSATION BETWEEN GABRIEL AND RAPHAEL)
"Are you flirting with the humans, Raphael?"
"I do not see how confirming my name constitutes a flirtation."
"Careful, brother—they are sensitive and you are using your 'I Bring You Glad Tidings of Great Joy' voice."
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Hey y'all.
First of all, a huge THANK YOU to everyone for the comments and encouragements and messages. They have been wonderful and kind and kept me writing this past month (several months, now). Life has been pretty crazy the last few weeks in particular and writing was impossible some days.
My mom's health is really bad right now and she's in a rapid decline. I won't vent too much bc I have a tendency to over-share once I get started...but things may be a little rocky the next few months. Which means I'll either end up writing a million new chapters to escape it all, or I'll stare blankly at my screen for hours each day before giving myself over to Mass Effect Andromeda to escape it all. Let's just say that "it all" includes me, a woman engaged to a woman in the south, working out funeral/will arrangements for my mother, all while surrounded by her Literal Neo-Nazi family. Good times. I hope y'all can handle the angst/fluff levels this entire situation will create for this series...
Second of all...I don't have a second of all. Except to say thank you again to all my readers. And to my two betas-Nathyfaith and ScrollingKingfisher.
You are all keeping me vaguely sane and strong. So thanks...