HEAVEN WAITS FOR YOU
Part 3: Now Your Life's No Longer Empty
Michael studied the hunter, fascinated by the mixture of gruff confidence and cautious uncertainty.
What was it about the Winchesters and their associates that made humans willing to ignore their instinct to cower in the face of an archangel and make demands instead? Perhaps it was a hunter thing. Or maybe humans lost their awe of the Host sometime after God left them.
Whatever the reason, Michael found himself pleased by the honest reactions. "You recognized Samuel's voice?" he asked.
Bobby sucked in a breath at the confirmation and nodded. "Yeah."
"You are an amazing soul, Bobby Singer."
The man frowned. "I don't need butterin' up. Just tell me what happened to my boys."
"I do not have all the details yet myself, but I can tell you the basics." Michael smiled, hoping it would be enough to appease the anxious man.
"I ain't getting any younger," Bobby gestured for him to continue.
"When Amara reunited with my Father, She decided to bestow a gift on Dean Winchester for his efforts and resurrected his mother. Similarly, my Father offered a gift of healing to Samuel. He used His own grace to repair Samuel's damaged soul, merging the two together."
"Damage from the Cage?"
"And other events that have transpired since then."
"Your Daddy's grace—it changed Sam into some kinda angel kid?" Bobby asked hesitantly.
"Into a fledgling, yes." Michael worried about the hunter's reaction. Would he care less for the boy knowing he was no longer human? "It reformed his body. But he remains Samuel Winchester with all his memories intact. It is a second chance—not a 'do over,' as I believe you humans like to say."
Some of the tension drained out of the man at this news. "Well, that's good, I guess. So, he's physically a kid again? Because that was not adult-Sam's voice I heard."
Michael nodded. "A side-effect of the grace healing, I believe. Raphael could probably explain it better. Samuel appeared to be quite young—around six, perhaps?"
"You've seen him?" Bobby asked quietly, the tension returning.
"I was returning to Heaven when I heard his cry. Raphael and I went to investigate and assist. Apparently, a group of humans took Samuel using weapons stolen from Heaven. The weapons were recovered and Samuel is in the care of his family." Michael looked away, unable to meet the human's gaze. "I left as soon as I was assured he would be alright. My presence is understandably upsetting to him."
"What happened when he was taken?" Bobby demanded. "He don't make sounds like that over a stubbed toe."
"They hurt him quite severely," Michael felt the rage burn through his grace at the memory, and it took a moment for him to continue speaking. "It was not life-threatening. And he is in the hands of the best Healer besides my Father."
"Let me get this straight." Bobby stood and began to pace the room. "God healed Sam, turning him into a kid-angel. Then, humans took and tortured him. And you left Raphael with them?"
"Gabriel is there too," Michael added. "But I believe he's been with them for a little while now."
"Dean actually agreed to all this?" Bobby faced him, hands crossed over his chest.
"He had a few conditions which I have adhered to them. But he did seem to accept Gabriel's presence. He left Samuel in my brother's care long enough to make his demands known to me. I understand such an act would require some amount of trust for either Winchester."
"You're telling me Dean let Sam out of his sight after they'd been forcefully separated?" Bobby shook his head. "I'm dead a few years, and everything changes."
"Yes," Michael agreed, "I find myself learning a similar lesson. Time does not stop just because we are no longer present to be part of it. Nor do the consequences of our actions disappear with our absence."
"Tell me about it," Bobby huffed with an empty laugh.
Michael tilted his head in confusion. "I thought I just did."
The hunter stared at him, shaking his head. "It's an expression. You're just like Cas when we first met him."
"Oh," Michael considered the comparison, not quite sure how to take it, "Well, Castiel seems to have adjusted over time, so perhaps there is hope for me yet."
"I'm having a hard time picturing that idjit as anything close to 'adjusted' but I'll take your word for it."
"You will?"
"With a grain of salt, maybe."
"Is that another expression?"
Bobby laughed again, warmer and with actual humor this time. "Yeah. Hang out with humans once in a while and you'll pick up all kinds of new phrases."
A knock at the door startled both of them. The office acted as a buffer with the door closed, allowing Michael to concentrate without the constant stream of chatter from the Host. He hadn't even realized how quiet things were in his mind since entering the room—he was used to the silence.
Michael reached with his grace to see who was interrupting, and he almost ran to open the door. He managed to control his pace, but there was no hiding his enthusiasm as he nearly wrenched the door off its hinges.
"Brother," he said breathlessly, throwing himself around the other archangel.
Raphael easily caught him, gathering him closer with a similar desperation. Michael felt his brother's vessel trembling. They stood there, wrapped in arms and wings, taking solace in each other's presence.
"I saw the Host gathered in Heart Hall. Michael, they—" Raphael's deep rumble broke with emotion.
"I know, Raphael. I have the healers working as fast as possible to see them restored, but the situation is more dire than we had anticipated." Michael stepped back. He saw the weight of grief in the Healer's eyes, and knew it mirrored his own.
Raphael nodded. "I heard—the seraphs were eager to give me updates when I arrived. It took me awhile to reach you."
"I am glad you have returned," he murmured into his younger brother's shoulder.
"Hello," a gruff voice said, reminding Michael of the hunter in his office.
"My apologies," Michael said, leading Raphael further into the room and shutting the door. "Bobby Singer, this is my brother Raphael."
"I figured," Bobby grunted, looking awkward. "We've kinda met."
"Yes," Raphael said with a wry smile, "You were one of the last faces I saw before my Father reformed me."
"If it counts for anything, we were there to stop Cas. Didn't really count on him blowin' you up."
"That was certainly a surprise." Raphael chuckled as he moved to gaze out the window into the Garden. "I suppose it served me right—I did kill him first, after all."
Bobby's eyes darted between the two archangels as though searching for something. "That's mighty forgiving of you."
"Castiel would never have been pushed into such a desperate position had I not sought to restart the Apocalypse. I carry most of the blame. And I have no desire for vengeance—only healing. The two cannot coexist."
"Not for long, anyway." Bobby leaned against Michael's desk, keeping his eyes trained on the Healer. "I hear you've been with Sam."
"How is he?" Michael asked, his thoughts finally settling after their emotional reunion. "I've told Bobby about Samuel's situation, but I know so little myself…"
Raphael sighed—a heavy, weary sound that made both Michael and Bobby straighten up with worry. "Samuel is many things," he finally answered. A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he turned away from the Garden to face them. "He is a fascinatingly unique creature, capable of more determination and will than I have witnessed in most full-gown angels. I fear that fortitude will lead to trouble the likes of which we have not known since Gabriel was a fledgling."
"Yeah, he's always been a stubborn one," Bobby agreed. "What about his injuries?"
Raphael's smile disappeared. "Physically, he is completely healed—which was a battle unto itself. The injuries to his body were easy enough. The burns to his grace were more difficult, and Samuel fought against being healed until it was unavoidable. Emotionally?" He shook his head. "He continues to insist he is 'fine' even in the face of night terrors and outbursts of rage. The more pain he is in, the harder he tries to hide it. I have grown to detest the word 'fine.'"
Shame made Michael want to crawl under his desk. He knew the memories causing Samuel's suffering—he'd been responsible for many of them. For a fledgling to now carry such scars was unforgiveable.
Bobby chuckled, and Michael felt a flicker of anger temporarily replace his shame. He saw nothing amusing about Raphael's words! But then, the hunter spoke and Michael understood the humor was not in regard to the boy's pain.
"Welcome to 'Raising a Winchester 101,'" Bobby said, patting Raphael on the shoulder. "They've been tough little shits their whole lives. You think pint-sized Sam's hard to deal with? Try making a six-foot-four wall of muscle lay down and take a nap, or eat a damn sandwich. Or better yet, try doing that when you've got two of 'em. If Sam and Dean set their minds on something together, then you better have a secret weapon on hand. Otherwise, it's like screaming at the sun to tone it down."
Raphael grimaced at the idea. "I shall count my blessings that both brothers were not changed into fledglings. One is exhausting enough. I understand now why Gabriel insists on resting when the opportunity arises."
"I still can't believe the boys are letting the Trickster stay with them." Bobby wiped his face with his hand. "Especially Dean. Cas is one thing, but Gabriel? I can't see it."
"Really?" Raphael asked, his eyes bright. "I dare say much has changed since last you saw him. Gabriel would probably smite anyone who suggests he part from the Winchesters. He adores all three of them, and he is fiercely attached to Samuel. In fact, Gabriel almost destroyed the Earth in his attempt to reunite with his charge."
"He what?" Bobby asked, horrified. Michael could only imagine the images those words inspired—especially for a man who had fought against archangels bent on destroying his world.
Raphael grinned, which seemed to further disturb the hunter. "It was not on purpose—merely a miscalculation in his trajectory and a disregard for his own limits with speed. The humans had banished him and Castiel out of Earth's solar system, and he was determined to return as quickly as possible."
"So, Gabriel's taken a liking to the boys and their momma. That don't explain why they're letting him stay."
"He has not tricked them, or manipulated their minds, if that is your fear," Raphael reassured. "I am aware that their history was not ideal, but the affection between them all is mutual. Gabriel dotes on them, and they look to him as the head of their flock—even if they do not entirely realize it. Dean calls him 'Gabe' and they play with each other like brothers. They constantly engage in verbal sparring matches, but it is done with joy. And Samuel…" Raphael sighed, a soft smile gracing his vessel's lips.
"And Sam?" Bobby prodded when the archangel paused for too long.
Michael sensed the waves of fondness from his brother and knew Raphael was lost in memories. He hoped to see the things the Healer described with his own eyes one day.
"Samuel loves Gabriel. He calls for my brother when he wakes from nightmares, and gravitates toward him always. He trusts Gabriel enough to seek comfort from him. And Gabriel works hard to ensure that he does nothing to break that fragile trust." Raphael's eyes shifted to Michael with a knowing look. "I shall endeavor to be a steadying influence on both menaces. I fear them as a united force—they will likely drive us all to madness with pranks."
"Father help us all," Michael mumbled, closing his eyes. "If Samuel is anything like Gabriel, they will have Heaven in flames within a century."
Bobby barked out a laugh. "You do realize that Sam was raised by Dean Winchester, right? I'd just start stocking up on fire extinguishers now."
Several staccato bursts of static suddenly came from Michael's desk. The archangels quickly turned, unused to such a sound.
What is that? Michael silently asked his brother.
Raphael frowned and stepped closer to investigate. I do not know. It sounds like…
"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed under his breath. His face was bright red as he reached under the desk and pulled out a small metal box.
"What is that?" Michael repeated out loud, mystified by the strange object. He had never seen such a thing in Heaven.
"It is a communication device of some kind, is it not?" Raphael asked.
"Yeah," Bobby answered sheepishly, "It's a walkie-talkie. Keeps me in touch with our home base." He flipped a switch on the side, then pressed a button and spoke into it. "I'm good, Ash."
There was a moment of silence. Then, the speaker crackled again. "You sure? Do you need an off-ramp?"
Bobby rolled his eyes. "No, Ash. No off-ramps necessary."
"What about...a snack cake?"
"No! Damn it, Ash, keep the snack cakes at the bar! I'm fine!"
"Geeze, fine. Sounds like you need a nap."
"I…" Bobby trailed off in confusion, then turned away and whispered, "I don't even remember that code. What the hell's a 'nap' stand for again?"
"It stands for 'sleeping in the middle of the day because you're a cranky old guy."
The hunter scowled, blushing even harder. "Good-bye, Ash. I'll let you know when I'm headed back to kick your ass," he grumbled.
"Home base?" Raphael asked.
Michael grinned, excited to finally share some good news with his brother. "Wait till you hear what the human souls have been up to in our absence."
He let Bobby explain about the soul communities, and the hunters who headed the effort. Raphael's reactions were priceless. Pure joy and curiosity blended together as he launched into questions. Michael didn't envy the poor human—his brother was tenacious when he found something new to learn about.
As they discussed the growing issues of the souls' Heavens, Michael sent a silent word for Puriel to return to his office with the Architect Charmeine when they'd finished being healed. He watched from his window as the little Soul Inspector nodded down in the Garden. It wasn't long before they heard a soft knock at the door.
"Puriel, Charmeine, thank you for returning," he said in English for Bobby's sake, and ushered them into his office.
The seraphs stared at him in confusion. No angel spoke any language other than Enochian when they were in Heaven. But before they could ask about it, they saw Raphael and gasped.
"Healer!" Charmeine burst out, her hands clutched to her chest.
Raphael smiled and moved forward to embrace the seraphs. He wrapped them both in his arms. "Hello, my little angels. I have missed you."
Charmeine made a sound between a laugh and a sob while Puriel tentatively raised an arm to hold onto the archangel. When they stepped away from each other, Michael saw tears in all their eyes.
Then, those eyes went wide as they caught sight of Bobby.
"Sir?" Puriel squeaked. "A…a soul, sir! How…?"
"I have discovered the reason you lost access to the souls, Puriel," Michael said with a grin and Puriel took a step back.
"Really, sir?"
"Yes. The souls have organized themselves in our absence." He wasn't disappointed by the seraphs' reactions.
Their mouths dropped open in shock. Puriel's wings actually flared out, hitting Charmeine and knocking her back several steps. Raphael made a disapproving noise at the sight of the ragged, barely useable, appendages.
"Organized? The souls are running free? How?" Puriel asked in a horrified whisper. He looked at Bobby like he was seeing the hunter for the first time.
"We ain't children," Bobby said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "or zoo animals. We had to do something when the walls started crumbling down around us and there weren't no angels there to fix it. Besides, a bunch of us have dealt with angels and the supernatural on Earth enough to know when we're being kept in a dream-world. We don't like it."
"But…but…but…" Puriel stuttered.
Charmeine nudged her way next to the Soul Inspector, eyes trained on the hunter. "How bad is the damage?"
"Bad," Bobby answered.
"Puriel and Charmeine," Michael said to get their attention, "This is Bobby Singer. He has informed me of several problems concerning our system for the souls. I would like you to go with him. He can show you the structural issues and introduce you to their communities."
"Communities? As in 'more than one?'" Puriel asked.
"We got three major communities, with a couple hundred people living in each. And there's a dozen or so smaller ones still forming with about twenty to thirty folks a piece. But there are billions still trapped in Heavens that are breaking more and more every day." Bobby stepped closer and shoved his hands into faded jean pockets. "We'd appreciate any help we can get—as long as you don't start locking us back into our boxes."
The seraphs looked to Michael for direction, and the archangel nodded in agreement. "Raphael, I'd like you to accompany them for introductions." He saw the Healer raise a questioning eyebrow, and Michael gave a sad smile. "I would go myself, but I believe my presence would not be very welcome."
Bobby snorted. "Not with that face."
"Yes," Michael gave a very non-John-like smile, "I am not entirely sure why my Father chose to create this particular vessel for me. Perhaps that is a lesson I shall learn with time. For now, I will do all I can for the Winchester family and their friends—both in Heaven and on Earth."
Puriel and Charmeine exchanged confused looks at the name "Winchester," and Michael realized he would have to start testing the waters among his younger siblings. If they were to work with this group of hunters, then they'd soon learn the identity of the fledgling. He only hoped these two did not have a personal history with the well-known brothers.
"I can accompany them to meet with the hunters as long as I am able to return to the bunker by morning. Otherwise, Gabriel will fuss at me for being late to breakfast." Raphael gave a long-suffering sigh, but Michael knew better. With a new fledgling and the return of the Messenger, Raphael was likely torn between being with them and his desire to rebuild Heaven.
"Then go now. Father knows, I do not want to deal with an angry Gabriel. And I am sure Bobby's friends will be eager for updates about the Winchesters." Michael turned to the seraphs who looked ready to burst with questions. "I must ask for the utmost discretion from you both. You will soon learn details about a very delicate situation—specifically, the identity of our newest fledgling."
The seraphs nodded solemnly, but a burst of excitement flowed through their grace. "Of course, sir," Charmeine agreed.
"I do not want word of this reaching the Host until I have determined it safe enough," Michael insisted.
"Sir," Puriel started tentatively, "I am confused. You are acting as though we would know the babe's identity. But how is that possible when the fledgling is a new creation?"
Michael glanced at the Healer and received a nod. "Raphael will explain. Go now—there is much work to be done, and I must finish my conversation with Ingrid."
Charmeine smirked, and Michael felt some of his tension drain to see it directed his way. "We passed her in the hall on our way here. Her stack of reports has grown ten-fold since you last saw her."
Raphael clapped him on the back, then pulled him into a hug. "Good luck, brother. I know how much you enjoy administrative duties and paperwork."
You are an ass, Raphael, Michael said silently.
The Healer's laugh rolled through the room, startling the seraphs and human. You are going to have to work on your insults, or else Gabriel will wipe the floor with you. And do not get me started on Samuel's creative language abilities—the child swears worse than Balthazar and Gabriel combined.
Father save us! I pray your guidance will influence the child. Michael hugged his brother, feeling lighter than he had since returning to Heaven. Hope was a powerful thing—and love inspired wondrous amounts of hope.
"I will come find you before I return to Earth," Raphael promised.
"Please do!" Michael said, then turned to the others. "Keep an open mind and a discreet tongue, seraphs. You will learn a great many things today. Bobby Singer—it has been a pleasure to see you again. I look forward to many more conversations with you. Please know that you are always welcome here. If you need me for any reason, just send me a prayer."
"I appreciate it." Bobby pulled a hand out of his pocket and thrust it toward the archangel. Michael stared at it for a moment, not entirely sure if anyone had ever asked to shake his hand before. The hunter cleared his throat. "You're supposed to shake it."
"Yes. Yes, I know," Michael said in a rush, clasping the man's hand. Warm happiness spread through his vessel at the easy gesture. "I meant what I said earlier—you are an amazing soul, Bobby Singer. There are few humans who would have the courage to seek me out, let alone put me in my place."
"Get used to it," Bobby huffed. "If half the things you said are true, then you'll be dealing with the ballsiest group of humans in creation."
"I look forward to it." Michael watched them file out of his office. He saw Ingrid waiting for him, arms heavy with stacks of reports. Sighing, he waved her in.
Raphael followed Bobby Singer through Heaven's halls. Signs of battles and neglect surrounded them. He saw it in everything from the cracked walls to the few seraphs they passed along the way. He felt it as an ache within his own grace.
They remained mostly silent until they reached an abandoned area. Bobby had been nervous walking among the angels, and Raphael asked him how he normally avoided running into them. He gave a vague explanation involving chalk sigils and hackers.
As they walked, there was a growing tension of curious energy emanating off Puriel and Charmeine. He wondered which one would break the silence and ask the questions that were clearly gnawing at their minds. It didn't take long to learn the answer.
"Sir, what did the Commander mean about the fledgling?" Charmeine asked. She received an elbow to her ribs from Puriel for her trouble, which she quickly returned, knocking the smaller angel into a pile of rubble.
Bobby shot them an amused look, then gestured for Raphael to go ahead and answer. "May as well tell them now. I don't want them freaking out around the hunters—there'll be enough drama as-is without them adding to it."
"Our Father did not make this angel in His traditional way. Instead, He remade a human by blending their soul with His grace. This human is well-known throughout the Host—a man we gravely mistreated since his birth. Our actions and perceptions were wrong, and there is concern that this attitude may linger even after his identity is revealed." Raphael stopped walking and faced the seraphs. "For this reason, we are entrusting only a few of you at a time with this knowledge. I will not tolerate any slander or negativity toward the boy, and you would do well to remember that he is firmly under the protection of Gabriel, Michael, and myself."
"Oh God," Puriel whispered, "it's one of the Winchester brothers, isn't it?"
"Yes," Raphael answered firmly, staring them down. "Father healed Samuel's soul using His own grace. You are the Soul Inspector, Puriel. Tell me—have you ever seen a soul shredded?"
"Shredded?!" Puriel looked sick at the thought. "No, sir. N-never!"
"Samuel spent two centuries trapped in the Cage with two furious archangels." Raphael turned to Charmeine. "You are an Architect. Lucifer's Cage was made from grace and forged in deepest levels of Hell. Do you know what it does to a human soul over that amount of time?"
Charmeine shook her head, unable to speak.
Puriel gasped and his wings flared in alarm. "I…I hadn't thought about it before, but…" he broke off, unable to continue.
"Yes, I don't imagine many of us considered what would happen when he fell with our brothers. Nor did we care." Raphael's own guilt sat heavy in his vessel's chest—a constant ache that had yet to find relief. "Combined with Samuel's attempts to complete the trials to close the gates to Hell and Gadreel subsequently taking him as a vessel without consent, the damage was beyond repair for anyone but God Himself. And even then, it took extreme measures. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," both seraphs answered shakily.
Raphael found no deceit in either angel—only overwhelming sadness and horror. He knew it would take them a while to process the full extent of the information. Like the fact that their newest sibling would carry all the memories and scars of that time. He hoped that their instinctive need to love and protect fledglings overrode any lingering dislike for the Winchesters.
"Good," he finally said. Glancing at Bobby, he cursed himself for being so blunt. The hunter's eyes were filled with devastation at the reminder of the pain his surrogate son had survived. The Healer rested his hand on the man's shoulder, offering as much comfort as he thought might be accepted. "The people we are visiting are all friends and family to the Winchester brothers. They do not know about Samuel's change yet."
Puriel and Charmeine looked at each other, nodding.
"We understand," Charmeine said.
"I know that you have all had to adjust to many extreme changes over recent years." Raphael offered them an encouraging smile. "You have survived without proper guidance and leadership for far too long. But our Father has seen this, and taken action to set us on a new path toward healing and restoration. Now is the time for celebration!" He stepped closer to the seraphs, gently placing a palm on the side of each face. "Our family has a new baby—one who has never known the love of Heaven. It will take all of us to prove we are worthy of his trust, but only one to destroy what progress has been made."
"That 'one' will not be me, sir!" Charmeine promised.
"Nor me!" Puriel added.
Raphael pulled them close and brushed a kiss to their temples. "That is good to know."
"You better not let Sam hear you call him the 'new baby' or you'll have a riot on your hands." Bobby's amused voice reminded them they were not alone.
Raphael chuckled, letting go of his siblings. "Samuel has already heard it from Gabriel."
"And Gabriel survived?"
"He did indeed. Though, I must ask—was Samuel always so adorable when expressing indignant outrage as a child?"
Bobby's laughter echoed through the empty hall. "Well, it's good to know nothing's changed there! He was a moody little feller, for sure. It became less cute when he grew up, but as a kid? He was like an angry kitten who'd spit and jump sideways at ya!"
"I thought the exact same thing," Raphael said, thinking back to his first encounter with Samuel a few days prior.
They followed Bobby to a dusty door that led to an empty storage room. He explained the basics of how they travelled without giving away too many details. The angels watched in wonder as he drew sigils onto the door, activating the grace that formed the foundation. Raphael felt humbled by the reminder of just how much they'd underestimated the ability of humans to adapt and grow.
Before opening the door, the hunter pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke. "Ash, I'm coming back. And I'm bringing some new friends with me."
The speaker burst with static, then they heard, "Ten-four, good buddy! Team-Grumps is back already, and Team-Prophet is on their way. The others are still out in the communities, but they're up-to-date with what's happening. See ya soon!"
Tucking the communication device back into his bag, Bobby looked at the angels. "Heads up—John Winchester will be there along with several other hunters. And they will all be armed. It's just a precaution, but I thought you should know."
Raphael nodded, and said, "I understand. We will need to earn their trust." He glanced at the seraphs. "Even if weapons are drawn, there will be no retaliation. If a situation were to escalate, we shall simply leave until tempers have cooled. We are here to provide assistance and learn from each other."
The younger angels looked nervous, but nodded their understanding.
Bobby sighed and opened the door. "Welcome to the Roadhouse."
Raphael shivered as he crossed the threshold. He had never felt a personal Heaven modified by humans—it made his wings tingle. It was distracting enough that he didn't immediately register the people present.
Bobby rushed ahead of him to stand between the humans and angels, while the seraphs crowded close to the Healer's back. Some things never change, Raphael thought to himself. It had only been two days since Samuel had done the same while waking from a nightmare.
"Greetings and salutations to our new holy feathered friends!" A man with odd hair stood up from the bar and gave a clumsy bow.
"Quit that, Ash," Bobby muttered, smacking the younger hunter on the shoulder. He cleared his throat. "Everyone, this is Raphael. The two angels with him are gonna help us." Bobby waved his hands in their direction, and blushed. "I didn't quite catch their names. Purel and Shar-something?"
Raphael stepped aside and nudged the angels forward. Introduce yourselves, he said silently to them.
Sir, they…they all have angel blades! Puriel turned horrified eyes to the archangel.
I know. I suspect they helped themselves to one of the weapons' stores when Heaven was vacated. It is no matter—none are drawn. Go ahead and introduce yourself. Raphael encouraged, though he too was disturbed by the sight of his siblings' weapons in the hands of humans.
"P-Puriel, at your service," the little angel stammered, returning the bow to Ash with much more grace. "I am the Soul Inspector—my job is to evaluate the souls as they enter Heaven."
Charmeine huffed at the bow, and chose to simply nod. "And I'm Charmeine, one of the Architects responsible for maintaining Heaven's structures. We are both here to learn about this new system of communities you've created, and assist in whatever way you need."
"Fan-fuckin-tastic," drawled a gruff voice from a booth in the corner. "How do we know you aren't just gonna zap us all back to our little boxes?"
Raphael recognized the man instantly. "You are John Winchester."
John drained a glass of liquor and slammed it down on the table before rising to his feet. "Good to know my reputation precedes me."
"It does indeed," Raphael said, studying him. He knew only a little about the boys' father, but it was enough to know he should tread carefully. "I have had the pleasure of getting to know your family the last few days."
Silence fell over the room. No one dared to even breathe as John slowly stalked forward. He stopped directly in front of the archangel, completely unthreatened by the towering figure. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"I mean that since my return, I have been on Earth with your sons," he paused, taking an unnecessary breath, "and your wife, Mary."
"Mary's there? With my boys?" John whispered, all signs of posturing gone. He was simply a man, broken again by grief and fear. "Is she okay?"
"She is wonderful. A brilliant woman of immense strength and compassion." Raphael smiled warmly. "Your eldest son played a vital role in reuniting Amara with my Father. And as a gift, Amara returned Mary to Dean."
John glanced at Bobby who nodded in confirmation. Letting out a relieved sigh, John scrubbed at his face with shaky hands. "That…that's good, I guess. If she's gonna be anywhere besides here, I'd want her to be with the boys." His eyes focused on Raphael again. "What about them? How are Sam and Dean? Were they caught up in all that mess with that grace-blast?"
"That is a longer story," Raphael said carefully and gestured for the hunter to take a seat. No one moved.
"He's right," Bobby interceded when the archangel looked to him. "Hey, Ellen—you care to grab a couple bottles of your best whisky? We're gonna need it."
"Why?" John demanded, tense again.
"Don't get your panties in a twist," Bobby reassured. "The boys are fine. There's just a lot that's happened, and story-time always goes better with alcohol."
Raphael watched as Bobby and a young blonde girl pushed two smaller tables together. Ellen carried two bottles to them while a man followed her with several glasses. He set them on the table and held out a hand to the archangel. "Name's Bill Harvelle. That's my wife Ellen, and daughter Jo."
Raphael grinned at the names. "Ah! Ellen and Jo—I have heard your names before! And this is the Roadhouse?" He looked around the space with new eyes.
Jo froze for a second before crossing her arms over her chest. "You've heard of us, huh? Were Sam and Dean telling stories?"
"No, it was another pair of siblings—Alicia and Max Banes. They spoke very fondly of you both."
"Oh lord," Jo mumbled, blushing fiercely.
Her mother laughed. "I bet they had some stories," she said, nudging her daughter.
Another hunter joined them by the table—an older man with a deeply lined face. He carried his own bottle of liquor. "Rufus Turner," he grunted without offering his hand. Raphael nodded to him.
"And I'm Pamela," a dark-haired woman said with a smile. She took a seat and patted the chair next to her in invitation. "Why don't you sit by me, sugar. I won't even need any of this 'Heavenly alcohol' with you by my side—I'll be buzzed in no time."
"Buzzed?" Raphael asked, taking the offered seat. He heard the seraphs make a disgruntled noise at losing their shield.
"Mmm," she hummed, smiling in a way that reminded him of the witch twins, "your grace is delightful."
"Oh. Thank you?" The archangel wasn't sure quite how to respond to the compliment.
"Look out for that one," Bobby said, pushing John into a seat and dropping into the chair next to the Winchester father, "she'll flirt ya right outta your halo."
Ash cleared his throat. "Not that I don't want to get caught up in the personal lives of others, but we've kinda got a lot of work to get started on. Y'all mind if I go ahead and steal these two?" He gestured toward the seraphs huddled together.
Raphael nodded. "Of course! We are at your disposal." Silently, he said, Remember, little angels—open minds. We have much to learn from the people here.
Puriel and Charmeine tried to smile, following Ash to another set of tables. They were joined by Rufus, Bill, and Jo. Ellen set down the bottles of liquor in front of Bobby before going to sit with her family.
Rufus yelled from across the room, "Pamela! Get your psychic ass over here!"
"Fine," she said under her breath. She gave Raphael a sly smile. "I'll make sure your siblings don't panic themselves into a corner."
"Thank you."
As soon as she was gone, John leaned forward with a glower. "Now, start talking."
"As I said—your wife was returned to life on Earth as a gift from my Aunt to your eldest. But that was not the only gift given that day." Raphael poured a hefty-sized whiskey and pushed it toward John. "Can I assume you know some of the events your children have survived since your passing?"
John threw the drink back, swallowing it all in one go. "I've heard most of the basics. The Apocalypse, Heaven's civil war, Leviathans, Abaddon, the second civil war with Metatron, and the Mark of Cain are all well-known stories up here. Especially once Charlie and Kevin joined us—those two were close to my boys after most of us were long gone."
"Then you know of Samuel's time in the Cage."
"Yeah," John grunted, wincing painfully and pouring another drink.
"Your son sustained great damage at the hands of my brothers. My Father healed him, using His grace to reform the pieces of Samuel's soul."
John remained silent as Raphael told the tale of the past two weeks—how Samuel was now a fledgling and all the Winchesters were under the care of Gabriel and Castiel. The stoicism broke when he reached the part where the boy had been tortured into growing wings at the hands of humans. Raphael paused when John put down the glass and covered his face.
Bobby tentatively rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Johnny?"
The father wiped his eyes and gave a watery grimace. "Yeah," he whispered. "I'm here."
"Do you need a break, John?" Raphael offered.
"No," John answered quickly. "No, I'm fine."
"Ah," Raphael sighed, "I see that word runs in your family like a motto."
"Excuse me?" John asked, confused.
"Samuel is fond of saying he is 'fine' even when it is clear he is not. It is…frustrating."
John gave a small sad laugh. "He's a Winchester alright—no amount of grace can change that fact."
"So I am learning," Raphael said, pouring another drink for the man. "He is doing much better. I healed his injuries as soon as he allowed it. The rest will come with time."
"The rest of what?" John frowned.
"The emotional aspect of his healing. Samuel suffers a great deal from many past traumas," Raphael explained as gently as possible. "As he integrates memories he could not previously access, it stirs up more and more unresolved emotions. Grace does not allow him to push these things to the side, which I believe was his primary coping mechanism as a human. He does not trust easily, including his own instincts."
"What do you mean he's not trustin' his instincts?" Bobby asked, interrupting whatever John was about to say.
"Samuel may have more memories and experiences than any human adult, but his grace is young. By angel-standards, he is considered almost a toddler. Children have needs and instincts that they usually act on without thinking, yet Samuel's adult mind fights against them. His grace reaches out for reassurance and instead of allowing it, he will push us away and insist he is 'fine.' It is painful to watch and not be permitted to intervene."
John scoffed. "I didn't raise them to need their hands held."
Raphael sat back, unprepared for such a statement. "It is not a matter of 'holding their hands.' Children must trust they are safe if they are to thrive. This is true of humans and angels. I am not implying that he is helpless or in need of coddling. But he is in pain, and I do not wish him to suffer simply because he believes he should be strong enough to do so on his own."
"I didn't—" John cut off with a sigh, pushing his drink to the side. "That's not what I meant. I love my boys. Always have, always will. But I wasn't always a good father. I made a lot of mistakes with them—choices I can never take back. I was trying to say that they were raised to rely only on themselves and each other. I taught them not to trust or talk to anyone else. Hell, they couldn't even rely on me half the time."
"I see." Raphael reached for the bottle of liquor and poured a drink for himself. It burned his vessel's throat and chest as it slowly progressed to the stomach. "My Father was similar. In the beginning, He was very close to us all. But then He gave Lucifer the Mark to lock away Amara, and it all changed. My brother changed as the Mark corrupted his grace. We were so blind and naïve."
"What happened?" John asked, refilling the archangel's glass.
"Father ordered Michael to cast Lucifer into the Cage. And when it was done, He left us. We were adrift without guidance." The room faded as Raphael lost himself in memory. "Michael broke under the weight of what he'd done to his closest brother. Gabriel ran away, unable to deal with the fighting. Part of me died that day. We all just wanted it to end—this eternal cold existence. So we found the prophesy that promised paradise at the cost of humanity's destruction, and followed it like a blueprint. We manipulated bloodlines that led to the birth of Michael and Lucifer's true vessels. And those vessels set into motion a series of events no one could predict—all the way up to this very moment."
"Sam and Dean have a way of doing that," Bobby laughed.
"Indeed," Raphael raised his glass to the hunter.
"Not sure how I feel about being compared to God," John said softly.
"Your family was manipulated. Your sons' lives paralleled the archangels they were destined to host. Everything was designed for this purpose. 'As above, so it is below.'" Raphael saw he'd had no effect on the guilt that ate away at the man. "Yes, your choices were your own. But you would never have had to make any such choice had we not pushed you into it."
John nodded without looking up, too busy contemplating the archangel's words. When he did finally meet Raphael's eyes, there was a hint of relief and gratitude hiding behind unshed tears. "So, my boy is a little boy again? And he has his mother and brother with him?" he asked, steering them away from the clearly painful topic.
"Yes," Raphael confirmed, automatically smiling at the thought. "They are all still adjusting. Mary had no memory of time passing—finding out that her sons were both grown was quite a shock, I'm told. And the brothers are learning what it means to have a mother again. Or for the first time, in Samuel's case."
"Wait! Mary doesn't remember?" John's distress was enough to draw the attention of the other hunters and angels. "But she was here with us—with me! How could she not remember?"
"I do not know," Raphael said carefully, frowning in thought, "I will talk to her when I return. Perhaps it is a side-effect of Amara's resurrection. Whatever the reason, I should be able to help her recover those memories. With her permission, of course."
"Please, do!" John was emphatic. "I-I need her to remember me here—not just who I was before her death. She knows who I became after the fire. We had a lifetime to work through that up here together. If that's gone…"
Raphael gently grasped John's hand until the man met his gaze. "I promise—she will know."
"The boys' memories of me are bad enough. I've spent years trying to think of what I'll say to them when they get up here…and I still don't have a clue. What can I say?"
"The words will come to you," Raphael said firmly. "Let your love for them guide your tongue. They already know the story. It has played out many times in their own lives as they've lost people and been sent down dark paths. What they lack is the epilogue—the ability to trust in happy endings."
John looked as though he was seeing the archangel for the first time. He swallowed, speechless with emotion, and simply nodded. Raphael squeezed the man's hand once more and let him go.
He needed to return to the bunker. Time moved like a stream in Heaven—some places ran rapidly while others trickled lazily. It was easy to lose track of the hours and days on Earth while walking through Heaven.
Before he could announce his intentions to leave, the Roadhouse door opened. Three men entered, and Raphael stood at the sight of one familiar face. He had never personally guarded this Prophet, but all angels knew the souls of God's chosen. Everyone else turned as the newcomers entered, sending waves and words of welcome.
"Did we miss anything?" Kevin Tran asked breathlessly. His wide eyes took in the sight of the seraphs, then froze when he spotted Raphael. Clutching his bag tightly to his chest, he whispered, "Oh, shit."
Raphael did not understand the Prophet's reaction—did he fear the presence of archangels? Prophets were the only humans consistently protected by Heaven's greatest warriors. But before he had the chance to ask, Ash spoke.
"Kevin," the computer genius' voice carried a playful tone, "did you do what I told you not to do?"
"Nooo," Kevin answered, blushing brightly.
Light laughter filtered through the room as some of the hunters shook their heads in amusement. Raphael walked toward the Prophet, curious about what was happening. Kevin skirted around the hunters and tried to take the long way around the room.
One of the men who'd accompanied Kevin grabbed the back of his shirt as he passed, pulling him back to them. "Not so fast," the man said.
"Hello, Kevin Tran—Prophet of my Father." Raphael bowed slightly and tried to not appear intimidating.
"Hey," Kevin said shyly, "You're, umm, Raphael, right?"
"I am," he answered.
"Oh man," the Prophet mumbled, "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."
"I…is that a problem?" Raphael looked to the others for clues, but everyone was grinning. He didn't understand.
Sighing, Kevin thrust the bag toward the archangel. Raphael took it slowly and opened the flap. He couldn't stop the deep, rolling laughter from flowing at what he found. Books from his office were crammed together, nearly breaking the bag's seams with their weight and size.
"Sorry," Kevin whispered. "They looked so interesting. I couldn't help myself."
Still laughing, Raphael handed the bag back to the Prophet. "You may borrow them, if you wish."
"Really?!" Kevin's surprise was written all over his face.
"Very few humans can even read these tomes, let alone appreciate them." Raphael turned to the others. "I must take my leave. It is nearly time for breakfast and today is important."
"What's today?" Bobby asked.
Raphael grinned. "It is Samuel's first day of training. Which reminds me—I need to get some books from my office for him. Hopefully, you left a few behind." He winked at the Prophet, making the young man blush even harder.
Bobby stood and shook his hand. "You take care of those boys."
"I will do my best, Bobby Singer."
John also shook his hand. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Can you tell them…tell them I love them?"
"I can, and I will." Raphael leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear, "Remember, John—your son is an angel now. You may be seeing him sooner than you think."
John jerked back in surprise. "You mean he can visit?"
Raphael nodded. "As soon as he is ready, we shall bring him to see you."
"I-I'd appreciate it."
Raphael made his farewells, relieved to see the seraphs relaxed and happy with their new-found friends. In his office, he gathered tomes on Enochian and Heaven's history and a few things he thought might interest his new student. He stopped to say good-bye to Michael, letting him know the meeting with the hunters had been a success and promising to return soon.
And then, he flew back to Gabriel's nest, not wanting to miss a moment of the day with his favorite little family.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
THUS COMPLETES THE "HEAVEN WAITS FOR YOU" ARC!
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