NOTE: We now return to our previously scheduled program of "Sam & Flock at the Bunker," picking up the morning following "After the Storm."
TEACH YOUR CHILDREN
PART 1: You Who Are On The Road
The stillness of sleep lay heavy over the bunker like a thick blanket.
Gabriel strolled the perimeter outside, watching as dawn crept over the horizon. Bare trees stretched like inky rivers into the slowly greying sky. The air smelled of winter.
He felt the angel guard high above the treetops, restless with being on high-alert in the absence of action. Raphael had left hours ago for Heaven, and the seraphs were eager to keep the small flock safe in his stead. Gabriel sent them a silent hello as he walked, and heard their joyful response hum through his grace.
When the sun's pale light finally touched the trees, he made his way back inside to begin breakfast. His flock would be waking soon—they rarely slept past dawn if they were uninterrupted by nightmares. So far, they had managed two such nights in a row.
As Gabriel took out pans and ingredients for their morning meal, he felt Raphael's presence join him in the kitchen. He looked up, intending to ask the Healer about his visit home, and stopped. "Did you ransack all the libraries of Heaven?" he asked, laughing at the sight of his brother.
"No, I only brought the ones I thought might appeal to Samuel," Raphael said, carefully setting the stacks of books on the table. "Do you think it is too many?"
"For that nerd? Nah. He'll love them." Gabriel shook his head in amusement as he started mixing the batter for waffles. "What all did you bring?"
"Just some introductory tomes on Enochian, histories of Heaven and the Host, and a few essays on grace."
Gabriel made a face. "Ugh. You trying to bore him to death?"
"They are only boring to you because you experienced the events first-hand," Raphael said with a mock scowl, "and you are mad they do not contain details of your own exploits. But they should help Samuel learn our history and culture."
"Like I said—boring!"
Raphael rolled his eyes, and Gabriel wondered if his brother was picking up 'bad human habits.' He certainly hoped so. What he wouldn't pay to see the most proper archangel roll his eyes at Michael. Which reminded him…
"So, how was Heaven?" he asked carefully.
Raphael sighed and proceeded to describe the status of their home. It was so much worse than Gabriel had anticipated. He knew it would be bad—he'd felt the empty spaces formerly filled by siblings as soon as he'd returned to life. But to hear it in terms of numbers? Unbelievable. And to hear Raphael describe how Heaven itself was damaged from battles and wars fought in their absence shook him.
"But it was not all bad," Raphael reassured, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "I met a group of fascinating humans in Heaven who began organizing the souls into communities in our absence. Their system is now being studied by our siblings for further development. Michael was most impressed."
"Souls organizing themselves? Sounds like the humanity I know and love. I never liked those 'personal heavens.'" Gabriel shuddered at the thought of existing in a pocket universe created by others and outside his own control.
"Yes." Raphael paused, and Gabriel turned to see an odd look on the Healer's face. "There were people there who are known to the Winchesters—friends and family."
"Family?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
"Namely John Winchester."
"Oh." Gabriel set down the bowl he'd been stirring. He had never met the boys' father, but he'd heard stories over the years. The man had made a name for himself long before Gabriel posed as a janitor at that university. He'd been relieved to find the sons far less ruthless than their father.
"He was," Raphael seemed to search for the right words, "not what I'd imagined."
"No?"
"No. Death has mellowed him, and given him time to gain perspective."
"So, he didn't try to stab you on sight? Wow. Color me impressed," Gabriel snorted. He poured batter over the hot griddle, and started slicing thick slabs of bacon. "Are you going to tell them?"
"Several people asked me to pass along messages. I will not go back on my promise."
"Well, breakfast sure is about to get a lot more interesting."
It didn't take long before they heard Dean and Mary moving about the communal bedroom. Gabriel set the coffee to brew, and threw the bacon into the skillet. He explained the complex art of waffle-making to Raphael, and watched him steadily stack each finished product on a platter.
Dean stumbled in first, wearing his sleep pants and old robe. He grunted a greeting on his way to the coffee. By the time he'd drained half his cup, Mary joined them.
"Good morning," she said with a yawn. Dean handed her a steaming mug, already fixed to her liking, and she kissed his cheek. "Thanks, sweetheart."
Dean beamed even as he blushed. "You're welcome, mom," he mumbled.
"Where's Sam and Morpheus? Are they still asleep?" Gabriel asked.
"Sam's drooling worse than the dog," Dean huffed. "Although, I think Morph is faking it. Little shit worked his way up to my pillow sometime during the night. Cas thinks it's funny, but we'll see who's laughing when his trench coat is covered in fur and slobber."
"Whoa! What's all this? Was there a sale?" They turned to see Mary gawking at the book-covered table.
"Just a few books I brought for Samuel," Raphael answered. His voice was steady, but Gabriel could feel the undercurrent of nervousness flowing through his brother.
"Brought from where?" Mary asked. "And when? Last night?"
"Yes, I returned to Heaven for a short while once everyone fell asleep. I needed to check in with Michael and the Host. I brought some materials to help with Samuel's training. I thought he might prefer to read them rather than listen to history lectures."
"Good idea. Sammy's never been too fond of listening in general." Dean smirked into his coffee cup as though enjoying a private joke.
"Maybe you just never said anything interesting." Sam's sleepy voice drew everyone's attention. One arm was wrapped around his midsection in an odd way, and Gabriel almost asked if he felt okay when he noticed a fluffy white ear sticking up from inside the boy's hoodie. Castiel stood behind them, a fond smile on his face.
"Samshine!" Gabriel moved from around the counter to comb his fingers through Sam's bed-head and shamelessly peek at the tiny dog. "How are you two doing this morning, hmm? Sleep well?"
Sam yawned and his arm tightened slightly around Morpheus. "Yeah. Probably coulda slept longer but someone decided to loudly fling his blankets around before leaving the room." He sent a death glare toward Dean.
"Hey!" Dean retorted with fake anger, "Maybe I'd have been more courteous if your dog hadn't decided to take over my pillow when he had a whole room full of beds!"
"He's not my dog, Dean," Sam shot back.
"'Not my dog' my ass," Dean grumbled, "You're the one carrying him around inside your shirt."
"He's cold," Sam mumbled, looking down into his shirt with a smile.
Tell your brother that I could shift into my larger form if he'd prefer. Morpheus's voice rang clear through the angels' minds, and Sam laughed.
"What? What did he say?" Dean asked, looking at all the people he knew could answer him. Sam relayed the message and Dean's face went slightly pale. "No! No, it's cool. He's fine in your shirt. Just don't complain to me if you end up with fleas."
A high-pitched growl emerged from Sam's hoodie, and Dean made a hasty retreat back to the coffee maker.
"Is breakfast ready?" Sam asked, eyes lighting up at the sight of the waffles. Gabriel made a note of his reaction—it was hard finding something other than fruit to entice the boy to eat in the morning.
"Yup! Go grab a seat," he said, nudging Sam toward the table, "and ask Morpheus what he'd like to eat. Oh, Raphael—please find another home for those dusty things."
I'll eat whatever Sam eats, Morpheus told the angel.
"Coming right up!" Gabriel called back.
Sam's eyes went comically wide with awe at the sight of the books covering the table. He clamored to climb up his chair, careful not to smash Morpheus. Trailing a finger lightly over the Enochian symbols etched into the closest cover, he asked, "What are they?"
"They're books, dumbass," Dean answered, taking the seat next to his brother. Sam kicked him under the table.
"They are for you, Samuel. Where would you like me to put them?" Raphael moved to stand by the table.
"For me?" Sam sounded surprised. He opened the book whose cover he'd been tracing. It suddenly flipped shut again, causing him to snatch his hand back and jump.
"No reading before breakfast!" Gabriel teased as he placed a plate of food in front of Sam and a saucer full of bacon and eggs. He then waved a hand over the stacks. The books shimmered and disappeared. "There. I sent them to the tables in the library. You can look at them later. I doubt you want to get syrup all over their pages anyway. Raphael may revoke your Heavenly library card."
Sam glanced shyly at the Healer. "You brought me books from Heaven?"
Raphael simply nodded and took a seat. Castiel and Mary joined them at the table, each carrying a plate of food. Gabriel brought a tray with syrup, butter, and a canister of coffee to set in the middle of everyone. "Alright, eat up everyone," he said, grabbing the syrup to pour over Sam's waffle.
"No syrup, thanks," Sam said as he covered his plate with his hands to shield it.
"But they're waffles!" Gabriel stared at the boy in horror. "That's why it's got all the little grooves—to hold pools of syrup and butter! That's why they're better than pancakes!"
Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes as he began to cut the pile of berries into tiny pieces and spread them across the waffle.
Dean grabbed the syrup out of the disgusted archangel's hand. "Give it up. I told you, he doesn't listen. And he likes to be super stubborn when it comes to food." He grunted when Sam kicked him again.
"So, Raphael," Mary said from the end of the table opposite of Sam, "do you have to return to Heaven for good or were you just visiting?"
Sam paused, fork midway between his plate and his mouth. His face remained schooled, hiding the distress that his young grace freely expressed. Gabriel ran his palm gently over the puffed wings, smoothing them back into place. He tried to cover the movement by snagging a bit of bacon off the saucer and leaning closer to offer it to Morpheus. Relax, kiddo.
"I will be dividing my time between here and Heaven. There is much to be done there, and they will need my help in healing all the seraphs." Raphael answered, then turned to Sam. "I would like to begin teaching you how to control your grace soon, Samuel. Your wings are developing faster than I'd anticipated. Most fledglings would have a few centuries of experience perfecting the basics of their grace before sprouting wings, but you were not given that time."
"Good thing Sammy's a fast learner," Dean praised with a wink, "The kid was practically fluent in Latin by the time he was eleven or twelve."
Morpheus wriggled around so he was sitting upright on Sam's lap. He ate the bacon from Gabriel's hand, licking the archangel's fingers clean seconds later. This is very good, thank you. Morpheus pawed at the zipper on Sam's hoodie, pushing it down enough so he could see past the material. Gabriel poured Sam a cup of coffee.
Sam nodded his gratitude. He glanced at Dean, mumbling, "Yeah, because I had such a choice," as he sipped his drink.
Dean ignored him, turning instead to Gabriel as the archangel took a seat between Raphael and Mary. "So, all those books are for angel-school? Bet you never thought you'd be back in training again, huh Sam?" Dean reached over to ruffle Sam's hair, but had to make a hasty retreat to avoid getting stabbed with a fork. "Whoa, dude! Guess your reflexes are still good. Maybe I shouldn't have woken you up so early." His tone was joking, but his expression showed concern for his brother's reaction.
Gabriel watched, keeping his own worry over Sam's rapidly deteriorating mood in check. Sam was not aggressive by nature—it usually only manifested when he felt nervous over a lack of control. But the boy loved learning, so Gabriel wasn't entirely sure where this was coming from.
"No stabbing at the breakfast table, boys," Mary said into her coffee.
"Stabbing's not allowed, but the dog can have a plate on the table?" Dean asked, still bewildered by the whole situation.
"You shut your mouth, Dean Winchester," Mary snapped playfully, "Morpheus can prance around the center of the table and eat off all our plates as far as I'm concerned. Just look at that face!" She blew a kiss to the tiny speck of fluff that was gingerly pulling a slice of bacon from his plate.
Morpheus paused in his attempts at not making a mess, and stood at attention, yipping in excitement. Sam grabbed him before he could leap onto the table. Dean hunched over his own plate protectively, scowling at the canine.
Raphael chuckled at their antics, though Gabriel could feel his brother's concern mirror his own. "Fledglings do not have 'school' in the way humans understand the concept. They mostly learn through osmosis, from their caretakers, when they are still formless balls of infant light. Our histories are sung to them in Enochian, and learning control is more a matter of guiding their instincts than teaching specific methods."
Dean perked up. "Oh, man. Suddenly, I'm picturing you singing to Sam while you rock him to sleep or something. Please tell me I get to watch." Sam landed a well-placed kick to Dean's knee, making the hunter yelp in pain and scoot away in his chair. "If you don't quit kicking me, I'm gonna stop sitting next to you!"
"Then quit being a jerk, Dean!"
"I will—just as soon as you quit being a little bitch about everything!"
"Stop it, both of you!" Mary said, frustrated. "What has gotten into you two today?"
Dean startled at the sound of her voice, sitting up straighter and looking sufficiently chastised. Sam, however, sunk lower in his chair as his face flushed. Gabriel thought it from embarrassment, but the white-knuckle grip on Sam's fork told him the boy was agitated.
Raphael cleared his throat. "No, we will not be teaching Sam in the traditional way. I suspect it will be more like meditation than lessons at times, or more involved grooming."
Castiel sipped his coffee from beside the hunter, elbowing him when he opened his mouth to respond. Dean just rolled his eyes and focused on stuffing his face. "And how was Heaven, Raphael?" the seraph asked nervously, likely knowing the answer would be bad.
Everyone grew quiet as they waited for his response.
Raphael took a deep breath. "It was…mixed. While it was wonderful to reconnect with our siblings again, the state of Heaven and the Host was devastating to witness."
"What's wrong?" Mary asked quietly.
"War and neglect greatly diminished our numbers, and it seems like the fall burnt the wings of those who remain. Heaven itself is near ruins—whole sections have been abandoned without those skilled enough to make repairs."
"Oh, that's awful!" Mary gasped.
Gabriel swallowed his own response. He'd heard some of the gory details from Castiel when he'd first arrived, but he hadn't seen it. Looking at their younger brother across the table, he saw the effect the words had on him as well. Castiel's face was grey, and he kept his gaze fixed firmly on his coffee cup.
"Yes," Raphael said with a solemn nod, then smiled, "but not everything about my trip was negative. I met some old friends of yours." His gaze flickered from Mary to her sons.
Gabriel wanted to smash his face against the table. Raphael did not understand de-escalation at all. This was probably not the best time to bring up seeing John and the others. But it was too late now.
"Old friends?" Dean asked. "Of ours? Like who? We've got a lot of dead friends."
"I found myself rather partial to a Bobby Singer," Raphael answered warmly.
"Bobby!?" Both boys wore identical expressions of surprised glee.
"Yes," Raphael's smile grew brighter, "He is a remarkable man. And quite fond of everyone here—excluding us archangels. Sorry, Gabriel. He seemed very perplexed as to why your presence was permitted by Dean."
Dean snorted. "Like I could get rid of him at this point."
"Yeah, good luck with that, Deano!" Gabriel smirked. "I knew making nine bacon-themed dishes at that first breakfast would win you over."
"But not me, right?" Mary asked, confusion painting her face. "I mean, I don't know a Bobby Singer."
All eyes turned to Raphael when he let out a sigh. "Actually, that was something I need to discuss with you, Mary. You did, in fact, know Bobby Singer, although it appears you lost some memories when Amara resurrected you."
"What?" she asked in alarm. "What do you mean? What memories?"
"From your time in Heaven," he explained. "Is there anything you remember between your death and resurrection?"
"No, nothing," she said, shaking her head.
"Well, with your permission, I can examine your mind later and see if there is anything I can do to retrieve what's been lost. Bobby wasn't the only one asking about you."
"Who else was there?" Dean demanded. "You said 'friends' plural."
"I met several in a place called 'The Roadhouse.' A bar maintained by a family by the name of Harvelle."
"Ellen and Jo!" Sam said, smiling sadly.
Raphael nodded. "And her husband, Bill. Then there was a psychic, Pamela. And Rufus Turner."
Dean laughed. "Let me guess—Pam flirted with you and Rufus carried his favorite whiskey while grumbling at everyone."
"I would say that is an accurate assessment of both persons. The leader of this group of rebellious souls—they called themselves 'Heaven's Hunters,' I believe—was an odd young man who went by the name Ash. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant—he's figured out how to manipulate grace using a computer of his own making. And now, they are liberating the souls from their personal Heavens and forming entire communities!"
"That's Ash for ya!" Dean said proudly. "He'd already worked out how to skip through the different Heaven's during the Apocalypse."
"Did you meet anyone else?" Sam asked. Gabriel noted that the boy was bracing himself—like hearing the names of those who'd passed were causing him more pain than joy.
"Yes. Your prophet-friend, Kevin Tran, was among them as well. Cheeky young man tried to smuggle half my library back to their headquarters while I was present. I let him keep them. I can't imagine the hardship he faced being a prophet with no archangel protection."
"You got no idea," Dean mumbled, refilling his coffee. The hunter glanced at his brother, frowning at how subdued Sam had become. "It's good to know all our friends are raising a little hell up in Heaven, isn't it Sam?"
"It'd be better if they were still raising it here on Earth," Sam answered without looking up.
Dean sighed, and refilled his brother's coffee cup as a peace-offering. Sam rewarded him with a small smile.
Quit drawing things out and just tell them, Raphael! Gabriel said privately to the archangel. It wasn't silent enough, though, because both Sam and Castiel turned to look at him—one worried, one curious.
Raphael shifted in his seat, drawing everyone's attention. "There were several others—some were off on missions, and I didn't get everyone's names. But one asked me to pass on a message—your father, John."
There was an audible intake of breath from all three Winchesters. They stared in shock at Raphael without speaking for over a minute. Even Castiel looked taken aback by the news.
"What was his message?" Dean finally asked, his voice thick with too many emotions.
"He wanted me to tell you that he loved you all. And he asked that I help Mary with her missing memories—it distressed him to think that you had lost the time you'd spent together in Heaven. But he was relieved to know both of his boys were reunited with their mother." Raphael kept his voice as calm and soothing as possible.
"Does he know about me? That I'm," Sam gestured to himself awkwardly, "different now?"
"Yes. I explained to them the basics of what led to your transformation. John was much more concerned about what led to your need for healing, and the injuries you'd since sustained, than the fact that you are now a fledgling."
Sam set down his fork with measured control. "I-I'm not very hungry. I think I'm gonna take a look at the books. Did you say they're in the library?" he asked blankly, climbing off his seat before anyone could protest.
"Umm, yeah," Gabriel answered, "they're on the tables there."
Sam nodded without looking up. "Do you want me to bring your plate, Morpheus?" he whispered into his shirt.
No, I am done.
Sam scurried out of the room with the small dog tucked back into his hoodie.
"I will go with him," Raphael said as he started to rise.
"No," Castiel stopped him with a raised hand and stood himself, "I will go." He looked at the Healer with sad eyes. There are aspects of Sam's reaction that you do not understand yet.
Raphael reluctantly conceded with a nod, settling back down in his chair as Castiel hurried from the room. That did not go as well as I'd anticipated, the Healer said to Gabriel.
Gabriel glared at him out of the corner of his eye. Bro—they almost stabbed each other with eating utensils. What made you think that was the signal for telling them about Heaven?
I thought hearing that their father loved them might lighten the mood.
Gabriel turned to look more fully at his brother. You definitely need to read up on your Winchester history, Raph. His dying words to Dean were an order to either save Sam or kill him—without giving any context or reason.
Raphael looked stricken. I did not know this.
I think Sam still believes, on some level, that him being "not human" means there's something dirty or wrong with him. It's something we've been working on.
I see.
"So," Dean started, looking like he very much knew he was interrupting their silent conversation, "did Dad try to stab you?"
Raphael smiled, and forced himself to relax. "No, he didn't. And as you are not the first person to ask me that, I shall count myself honored." He chuckled softly. "Actually, he poured me a drink."
Dean's eyebrows shot up higher than Gabriel had ever seen. "Well, this I gotta hear."
Sam walked on auto-pilot all the way to the library. He didn't even realize Morpheus was talking to him until he felt tiny teeth nip at his arm through the hoodie. The specter of John followed him, telling him to never come back.
Sam? Sam! Can you hear me, pup? Morpheus' voice, softer in his smaller form, finally reached Sam's ears.
"Sorry, Morpheus," he whispered, "Sorry, I was…distracted."
Morpheus twisted in his arms so he stood with his front paws propped against Sam's chest. It's okay. Do you mind putting me down now?
Sam stared down into dark eyes and nodded. "Sorry, yeah. Of course." He gently extracted the small dog from his clothes and placed him on the floor.
I am going to shift now, okay Sam? Morpheus stated, adding the question to the end and waiting for Sam's consent.
"S-sure. Whatever you need to do is fine, Morpheus." Sam backed away as the small dog shook himself. The swirl of fur billowed outward until the massive canine he'd seen the night before towered above him. He gulped down the urge to call for one of the others as Morpheus took small steps toward him.
Calm down, pup. I'm still the one you just now carried in your shirt—the same one who ate with you at the table, and who slept by your side, and who pushed your brother off his pillow.
"You did that on purpose?" Sam blurted out, forgetting he was supposed to be nervous.
Morpheus took one last step, bringing him face-to-face with Sam. He huffed a laugh and Sam felt the hot air blow through his hair. Of course! The blue-eyed angel found it very amusing. You can ask him—he's approaching this room now.
Sam turned in time to see Castiel appear at the doorway. Those blue-eyes went comically wide when they landed on Morpheus, and his wings fluffed out in alarm. But he quickly collected himself, tucking his wings out of sight and nodding to them both. "I, umm, just wanted to make sure you are alright, Sam. I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Morpheus was just explaining how you'd approved of him stealing Dean's pillow last night," Sam explained, casually sidestepping the first part of Castiel's statement.
The unexpected change in topic made Castiel pause, then smile. "Ah, yes. I felt it was an appropriate retribution for the way your brother acted last night. And completely worth it to see Dean's face this morning. Although, I regret his extended reaction woke you up—for that, I apologize."
"Nah, it's fine, Cas." Sam waved it off. The stacks of books caught his eye and he walked over to the closest stack. He counted at least twenty of them spread out across the table. "Wow. I can't believe how many books Raphael brought me to read. And these are just to get started. Do you think I'll have to read the complete history of Heaven and the Host? Because that might take me longer to read it than it took you guys to live through it."
"No, Sam," Castiel chuckled and looked over the books. "Besides—these are not the complete histories anyway. Raphael only brought introductory books that highlight main events. The complete histories would not fit on this continent."
Sam blinked in shock. He'd travelled all over America, and knew the vast size of the country. They'd even occasionally slipped across the northern and southern borders to visit Canada and Mexico. But he could not begin to grasp how many books it would take to overflow the continent.
"I guess I should start reading," he mumbled, reaching for the closest book.
"Wait, Sam," Castiel stopped him. When Sam didn't look at him, the seraph crouched down until they were eye-level. "I know Raphael may have less tact than myself at times, but he does not lie or bend the truth. If he says that John accepted your new form, then he means it."
"But that's not what he said."
Castiel frowned. "What?"
Sam finally brought his eyes up to meet the seraph's gaze. "He didn't say my dad 'accepted' me being an angel. He said that dad was more concerned about my injuries than my being an angel. That's not the same thing."
"He said John wanted you all to know he loves you," Castiel insisted.
"Yeah, well," Sam gave a resigned sigh, "love's never stopped him from 'doing the right thing' before."
"What does that mean?"
Sam shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Cas. Don't worry about it."
Castiel's hand grasped Sam's chin and brought their faces closer together. "What does that mean, Sam?" he asked again, more firmly the second time.
Sam sucked in a breath. "I-It means that love didn't stop my dad exiling me from the family when I chose Stanford. And after we'd reunited, it didn't stop him from telling Dean to either save or kill me as his dying wish! I really doubt death has changed him that much—not when he crawled his way out of hell after a century of torture to continue his revenge against Azazel!"
A soft, low growl from behind Sam reminded him that they were not alone. Morpheus pressed a cold nose into his hair, like he was trying to offer comfort. Somehow, it helped—the tightness in Sam's chest eased as the nuzzling continued.
"You think John will reject you for having grace now?" Castiel asked sadly.
Sam shrugged, unsure how he himself felt about having grace. The fact remained—he was no longer human. He wasn't even a normal angel. It seemed he would remain a freak no matter what species tried to reshape him to their image.
Castiel's hand released Sam's chin. Sam closed his eyes as fingers traced along his jaw and up to his temples. He felt the large palms gently frame his face and a soft kiss press against his forehead. "I wish I could speak for your father, and reassure you with certainty that he accepts you. But I do not know John, and have not met the man he's become in Heaven. However, I can tell you that our Father made you perfectly—both as a human and as an angel."
Sam bit his lip to keep his emotions under control. "Chuck is kinda everyone's 'Father' though, since He technically made all of creation."
"Do not sell yourself short, Sam Winchester. Yes, Chuck is Father to all, but that does not negate the fact that He hand-crafted you with His own grace. He has only done so four other times—with the other archangels. He is as much your Father as John, and not in a metaphoric sense."
Sam's breath caught in his throat, all control of emotions evaporating with Castiel's proclamation. It was hard enough to accept the idea that the angels might see him as a sibling—what was he supposed to do with a literal "God the Father?" His relationship with John had been complicated at best. He couldn't imagine trying to meet the expectations of another father, let alone the Universe's Creator.
Castiel must have seen something on Sam's face because his eyes softened. "I imagine this is not an easy concept to comprehend, let alone accept. But don't worry—you have time." He pressed a second kiss to Sam's crown. "Why don't you and Morpheus go outside for a walk. These books will still be here later. Go get some fresh air, and I will join you in a little while to groom your wings."
"You'll let me go outside alone?" Sam asked in surprise. The others barely let him go to the bathroom alone these days. To go outside without one of the angels or his brother or mother almost felt like running away.
Morpheus' head muzzle butted against Sam's back, knocking him straight into Castiel's chest with an audible "oomph." You will not be alone. Even in my smaller form, I am not defenseless.
"There is also the angel guard, although they will only make their presence known if absolutely necessary. You should not see them," Castiel assured him.
Sam winced at the reminder of the other angels lurking in their treetops. "Right," he said, trying to keep any trace of sarcasm from reaching his voice. "Maybe you should give us a head-start, Cas. I don't think the others will be too happy to hear I'm outside without one of them there to hold my hand."
Castiel nodded and stood back up. "I will do my best. Dean should be easy enough to deal with—I'll simply tell him that Morpheus might start sleeping in his larger form on the bed until Dean trusts that he's capable of keeping you safe."
Sam found himself smiling at the idea. Turning to Morpheus, he came face-to-face with a large wolfish grin. "Maybe we should do that anyway."
Fear can be healthy, Morpheus agreed. Come on, pup. We will go for a walk. And then, I will teach you to ride.
Sam's mouth dropped open. "What? Ride what?"
Morpheus' teeth snagged the collar of Sam's shirt, pulling him toward the doorway. Me. I cannot carry you in my mouth, so you will learn to sit on my back. Don't worry—I've taught all my two-legged charges how to ride.
Sam had no response. He allowed himself to be pulled along, suddenly glad he hadn't eaten much for breakfast. Dean's never gonna let me live this down, he mentally groaned. With that in mind, there was no room for thoughts about disappointed fathers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This arc will heavily explore the boys' childhoods in regards to their training and relationship to John. Not everything is positive, but it is something the brothers must come to terms with if they are to heal and have a healthy relationship with their dad in the future. So, please do not take this as "John-bashing." I recognize that he is a complex character who's life was manipulated as much as the boys-he made mistakes, but he loved them and he is a different person now in Heaven than he was on Earth. But those mistakes still need to be addressed-not because the boys are gonna have a big blow-out confrontation, but because they need to recognize the effect growing up had on them as children and adults.
Sam's training is going to bring up several issues for him specifically: 1) how much he hated training as a kid the first time around, 2) how he views himself as an angel, and 3) his relationships with the others in his family/flock (especially Gabriel, in terms of defining roles-is he a parent/mentor/friend/authority figure?). This won't be ALL about John, but the roots of all these other issues stem from their childhood.
ANYWAY, that's enough explaination! If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to message me!
AND ON THAT NOTE (literally lol), THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I know most of you wanted to stay at the bunker and leave Heaven to its own devices, but it'll be important to know what's happening there for REASONS!
Come be my friend on Tumblr under the same name, TheRiverScribe!
AND LEAVE ME A COMMENT, YA HEATHENS! *MORPHEUS KISSES*