TEACH YOUR CHILDREN
Part 8: They Seek The Truth Before They Can Die
Nuriel only had eyes for the boy.
After two weeks of guarding the bunker from a distance, she longed to be closer to the young grace. It called to her, reminding her of who she had been so very long ago. A Caretaker without a charge has no purpose.
Listening to Sam express his fears to the shifter that morning had dampened her excitement. She already knew the fledgling was unique—the archangels had made that clear from the beginning. No amount of grace would erase his traumas as a human. Her experience felt useless here.
He was not one of her children, raised in a carefully controlled environment with every detail designed to nurture and protect his sensitivity. He had never been so exhausted from playing too hard with other fledglings that he sought her out, wanting to be wrapped in layers of grace until everything else faded away in a cocoon of safety. He did not know her voice or touch or teachings.
Gabriel's introductions were bizarre, but predictable. The Messenger had always had a flair for doing things his own way. He dragged Sariel by the arm from person to person, flustering their leader. Nuriel exchanged amused looks with Zadkiel as they followed silently.
And then, she finally stood in front of Sam—close enough to see the individual shards of soul fused with seams of their Father's blinding grace. Gabriel's teasing washed over her, but she didn't hear his words. Nothing could tear her attention away from the tiny wings that shuddered in embarrassment and outrage.
They were beautiful. A wisp-thin veil of white light and electric violet that telegraphed the child's every emotion. She focused on their beauty, allowing it to distract her from the horror of seeing wings on one so young and knowing what caused them to grow.
Raphael pulled her to his side with a knowing smile as Gabriel returned to the front of the group. Your face, as Gabriel would say, is looking very "gooey."
I have no idea what you are talking about. Nuriel leaned against her mentor and fought the urge to sneak peeks of the boy.
I know you—it is the same look you had every time a new generation of angels filled your nursery.
Nuriel sighed as nerves overtook her excitement. I never thought I would see a fledgling again. Now, there is one standing on the Earth who has never even seen the inside of my nursery. Part of me wants to just bundle him up and whisk him away to Heaven.
Yes, Raphael nodded in agreement. Samuel has a way of bringing that out in us. I have learned to suppress many of my own instincts. It takes time…and vast amounts of energy.
And I thought no fledgling would present a greater challenge than Balthazar, she said wryly.
The Healer's chuckle rang through her head as they watched Mary walk toward them. The human mother's story was well known among the Host. All the Winchesters were legends at this point.
The human brother was already in a fiery debate with Sariel. Nuriel wondered if the guard leader saw glimpses of Michael in the man born to be his vessel. A short distance away, Zadkiel and Castiel stood in silent communication. She thought they might need a gentle reminder on human customs.
Humans shake hands, correct? Nuriel asked, making sure the other angels could hear her.
Sam jumped and stared at her with wide eyes. She smiled, filing his reaction away for later evaluation, and greeted the mother. Then, there was only one more person standing between her and the child.
Morpheus' gaze remained steady when Nuriel knelt and reached her hand out for inspection. The guard had all watched the shifter's arrival closely, prepared to act swiftly should he turn on the flock. Sariel still felt uneasy about his presence, but Nuriel and Zadkiel adored him from afar.
A tongue flicked across her wrist. It tickled, surprising her, and she didn't try to stop the laugh that escaped. She had never interacted with a dog before, let alone a magical one.
Morpheus raised his head slightly and looked from her to his charge. The gesture was clear—she was free to interact with the boy who sat on his back. Excitement returned at full-force.
Nuriel looked up into hazel eyes brimming with too many emotions. Lingering traces of anger still sparked through Sam's grace from Raphael's introduction of her, although she didn't know which part had caused it. Was it because she had worked with the Healer or the fact that she'd been a Caretaker? Neither fact seemed worthy of inspiring such a reaction, but Raphael seemed amused by it.
"Hello, Sam," Nuriel said. She didn't hold out her hand or stand. Raphael's earlier warnings about letting Sam set the pace echoed through her mind. Silence filled each second that passed, but she was patient. She could out-wait any fledgling.
Sam's hands clenched tighter around Morpheus' fur. He opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed. The canine's tail began to sway back and forth, picking up speed and height until the tip touched the boy's hair with each pass.
Sam shuddered as though chilled and batted the tail away from his head without looking away from Nuriel. "Quit that," he muttered, then cleared his throat. "Hello."
"I have a brother who likes to do that—with his wings, of course, not a tail," Nuriel said.
Sam gave a timid smile. "I can't get these things to move on command yet. But since Dean wouldn't feel them anyway, I just stick to hitting him with my hand."
"And kick with your feet. And stab with forks," Mary mumbled under her breath.
Nuriel raised a brow at Raphael. "You have not taught him to move his wings?"
"We have been focusing on other aspects of Samuel's education," Raphael said.
"Uh huh." She stared at the Healer until his wings shifted nervously.
"Perhaps we should sit by the fire. That way we can all be comfortable while you evaluate my teaching methods." His mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.
"That sounds like a good idea," Mary said. "It's pretty cold out here today. Sam, is that hoodie warm enough?"
We can go back inside to get another jacket if you'd like, pup. Nuriel suspected that Morpheus' offer was more an excuse to escape than to retrieve clothing.
"I'm fine," Sam answered them both. His cheeks, already pink from the crisp air, turned red from their fussing.
When they reached the blazing fire, Morpheus laid down and Sam remained seated on his back. Raphael settled onto a pillow next to them. Nuriel watched, unsure where to go.
Mary sat across from her son and looked at Nuriel, patting the blanket beside her. "No awkward lurking," the mother ordered with a warm smile.
Nuriel rushed to obey, grateful for guidance. She glanced at the others. Gabriel was leading Dean and the three seraphs towards them.
"You kids have the right idea!" Gabriel flopped on Nuriel's other side, knocking into her in his haste. "How's it going, sis?"
"Nuriel was about to tell me how I have not been following her preferred teaching schedule," Raphael answered before she could get her breath back.
"Yikes!" Gabriel grimaced. "Maybe I should come back later."
"Oh no, brother." Raphael pinned him to the blanket with a look. "I am sure she will have things to tell you as well."
Sam watched them, gradually relaxing with the warmth and banter. He absently played with Morpheus' fur as his eyes tracked from person to person. The closer his flock drew in, the more his tension eased.
Dean stalked a foot in front of Sariel, continuing their discussion as he kept fierce eyes trained on Sam. His aggressiveness startled Nuriel, and she turned to Gabriel. Is something wrong? He seems angry—like he is going into battle.
Sam made a choking sound as Gabriel laughed. "That's just Dean Winchester. He puts my 'overprotective big brother' routine to shame. And Sam moved, like, a whole ten feet away from him, so…" he trailed off as though that explained everything.
Dean ignored their laughs, but appeared to be analyzing the scene. His eyes scanned each person before returning to Sam. He stopped a couple yards from Raphael, and yelled without turning his head, "Move it, nerd-angels!"
Nuriel didn't know who he was yelling at until Castiel started jogging. Zadkiel looked startled, but followed. Dean's hand shot out, grabbing the arm of the trench coat before the seraphs passed.
Castiel and Dean shared a long, close stare. Raphael's lecture about "appropriate human behaviors" had definitely included personal space and prolonged eye contact. Nuriel remembered him specifically saying that they should not do it.
If the two were angels, she would assume they were speaking privately. But it was an intense posture if no actual words were being exchanged. "Does Dean have the gift of hearing angels?" she whispered to Gabriel.
"Oh honey," the archangel slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, "Dean doesn't hear angels when we scream in his face. No, this is a 'Winchesters and Cas' thing."
"I do not do that!" Sam sputtered. Nuriel almost flew out of her vessel. So much for the timid fledgling of ten minutes ago.
"Whatever!" Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You and Dean have knock-down, drag-out fights without saying a word. You have long, philosophical conversations with Cas using just your eyebrows. And don't get me started about when all three of you get into a silent stand-off!"
"Why is Gabriel yelling?" Castiel asked as he moved around the fire. He sat on the other side of the flames, a few feet away from the others. Zadkiel kept pace and sat between him and Mary.
"Because he's a drama queen!" Sam scowled at the archangel.
Castiel nodded solemnly.
Nuriel tried to smother her laughter with her hand. She felt a strange vibration from her stomach, like a whirling ball of static. It left her giddy and weightless and dizzy—ridiculously happy and on the verge of tears.
The sudden grief from realizing how much Heaven had lost mixed with remembering joy. We had this once, she thought. How did we forget?
Gabriel squeezed her shoulder again, and cool grace soothed her own. I know. It is overwhelming. Especially once you figure out it gets even better!
Her breath hitched. First of all, that is not possible. And secondly, you are not allowed to make me cry. I need to prove my trustworthiness to the boy, and I cannot if…she trailed off.
You think crying would deem you unworthy of trust? Gabriel swayed, rocking her slightly. Tears do not indicate weakness, Nuriel. Humans are emotional creatures—it is their grace. And in this house, we all cry…a lot.
Nuriel scanned the faces around the fire. Mary and Castiel were both listening to Zadkiel as he answered their questions. Sariel and Dean spoke in hushed tones off to the side, although the hunter kept his eyes on his family. Raphael was trying to say something to Sam but the boy was not listening. He was too busy frowning at her.
Is she okay? Sam's voice boomed through her mind, his eyes flicking toward Gabriel.
Nuriel managed not to flinch at the deafening sound. Being a Caretaker meant working with little ones who spoke at unregulated volumes. Zadkiel and Sariel had no such experience, and she saw both seraphs jump.
Sam saw it too, and he sucked in a breath. "Did everyone hear that?" he whispered to Raphael.
"You were a little loud," the Healer murmured, carding his fingers through the boy's hair.
Sam groaned and scrubbed at his face. Sorry. The word was barely there—a whisper of air on the edges of their grace. But the angels all heard it.
There is no need to apologize. Nuriel smiled, still resting her head against Gabriel. When you speak like this, imagine we are in a silent room and standing very close.
We're talking "Dean and Cas" close, Gabriel interjected.
Castiel snorted and shot the archangel a glower.
Like this? Sam asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Nuriel's smile widened as the little voice that rang clearly. He was still quiet, but she knew he would learn to adjust as he grew more confident. Excellent!
"Hey!" Dean barked, cutting off whatever Sariel had been saying. "Let's keep it audible, people!"
"Sorry, Deano!" Gabriel grinned sheepishly. "No more passing notes…we promise."
"So, Sam," Nuriel stretched and sat up, "what kind of things have you been learning?"
"Um," Sam wiped his palms on his pant legs, "mostly how to control my grace. Like energy manipulation and making balls of light. And I've been reading the books Raphael brought me about history and customs."
The Healer grunted at the same time Morpheus snorted. Gabriel remained silent but tensed. Nuriel guessed that the books were going to become a topic of later conversation now that they knew Sam was reading instead of sleeping.
Sam gave Raphael a worried glance. "I…the books are also improving my Enochian."
"And what do you enjoy the most so far?" Nuriel asked.
"What do I enjoy?" Sam echoed back. His eyes darted from face to face, as though seeking the "right" answer.
Nuriel nodded encouragingly but remained silent. He understood the question even if it had never been asked of him. But there was no need to push.
He'd been rushed into answers and decisions enough in the past. She saw it in his determination during morning runs and the frantic way he talked about the future—like it was barreling toward him at terrifying speed. Time moved differently for angels and he would burn up before reaching adulthood at this rate.
"I guess," Sam bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor, "I liked talking to the trees."
Gabriel straightened in surprise. "Really?"
"When did this happen?" Raphael asked. Castiel shrugged, just as lost.
"I..it was the morning…" Sam's face fell.
"It was right before the Brits blasted Cas and I outta here," Gabriel finished for him. "That's been your favorite thing so far?"
Sam nodded. His shoulders hunched over like he was bracing for a lecture or ridicule. Nuriel held herself still despite wanting to fly to his side.
Raphael soothed the boy's shifting wings with his hand. "Did you know that is one of my favorite pastimes? I was the one who taught Gabriel how to communicate with different life forms."
"Yeah, but you like to have deep meaningful conversations with them," Gabriel said. "I like to find the gossipers of the forest."
"Of course you do," Raphael sighed.
"Well, now that I know how much you liked it, we'll have to do it more often!" Gabriel grinned.
"Yeah?" Sam asked, perking up.
"Hells yeah! I found a really old tree a few days ago I think you'll really like—she has all the dirt on the forest."
Mary snorted at his pun and elbowed him.
Gabriel just giggled at her reaction. "Well, it's true!"
Nuriel shoot her head fondly, and focused again on Sam. He was relaxing into Raphael's touch and smiling at the others' antics. It gave her an idea. "So, have they explained flying to you yet, Sam?"
"A little?" Sam shrugged. "I know that it isn't flying like birds—I won't be flapping or gliding through the air. The wings are like mini-TARDISes…oh," his eyes widened and Nuriel wondered if he'd said a word wrong. She certainly didn't recognize it from any language she knew. "That's a…from a tv show…you don't…never mind! Wings move through time and space by bending it."
"Like personal alien spaceships strapped to our backs," Gabriel whispered the words like they were supposed to explain something. Nuriel followed Mary's example and elbowed her brother's side. He gasped and rolled forward. "I can't sit between you two—I won't survive this conversation."
"Why do messengers feel this need to talk without ceasing?" she aimed her question at Raphael who simply shook his head with a smile. She returned to Sam and nodded. "Yes, that is a very good technical description of how our wings function. But have they explained how to do it?"
"I read about the process and how everything can affect the outcome. You can hold your wings at certain angles to change speed. And it mentioned something…time slip-streams," he glanced at Raphael, looking for confirmation on his Enochian word choice, and received a bewildered nod, "places between dimensions where time moves differently. You can use them to your advantage if you know about them—use less energy to get to places or times faster. But it can throw you off course if you stumble onto one. And Gabriel told me how angel banishing works—that it short-circuits your wings and they fly themselves…away." Sam flushed and stopped talking when he saw all the angels staring at him with startled expressions.
Nuriel felt her mouth twitch, not sure if she wanted to laugh or yell or cry. "Those are…" she paused, searching for the right words, "all very good things to keep in mind, but you do not need to worry about any of that just yet. I can bring you more appropriate reading material about flying, if you'd like."
"Oh, really? Yes, please!" Sam nodded eagerly. "I think the book I read was part-anatomy, part-physics. There were diagrams and a lot of theory."
"Yes, I know which one you are describing." She leveled a look at Raphael. "That is a very advanced text on the fundamentals of grace mechanics—usually reserved for students who are centuries into their chosen field of study."
"I…I like reading about theory. It's interesting." Sam bit his lip again.
"And you're good at grasping theoretical arguments!" Gabriel rushed to reassure—and probably postpone further criticism. "But Nuriel's right—reading that right now is only going to be confusing. It would be like learning all the chemical reactions that take place during baking before you've ever even tasted or seen food! Or learning musical theory without hearing a song. Theory should fill in the blanks and expand your understanding—not lay the primary foundation. And it's definitely not a good first-step to flying."
"Oh. Sorry?" The poor boy grimaced at what he perceived as his own mistake.
Nuriel waved off his apology. "I respect eager students. And I would love to discuss theory with you—I haven't had the chance to explore academic topics in ages."
"But I need to 'hear the song' before we can break down the elements of how it's written?"
"Exactly!" Nuriel leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Now, the first step in flying is experiencing it with another angel. I know you've flown before, but have you done it since sprouting your own wings?"
"No." Sam's wings fluttered nervously while his face remained calm.
Raphael returned to running his palm over the boy's back. "We have avoided flying until we knew your wings were strong enough to handle it." He looked at Nuriel. "They were exposed to this plain without any protection and I had to remove sections that were burned. It took time to heal and build their own protective layer."
Nurial winced. "I'm sorry," she said honestly.
Sam tried to shrug around Raphael's hand. "It wasn't your fault. And I'm okay now."
There was no way that was true. She'd helped in Heaven's infirmary during their worst battles. Soldiers' screams and the smell of burnt grace blended together in her memory. It was unimaginable for a fledgling to suffer through such an injury. "I am glad," was all she could say out loud.
Sam cleared his throat. "So, the first step is flying around with someone else driving. Then what?"
"Then you will focus on making small jumps—flying to someone. However, that requires you to recognize their grace. Do you know what I mean?" Nuriel crossed her fingers. This would be a lot more complicated if Sam couldn't identify one angel from another by grace alone.
"You mean how each grace feels different?" Sam asked.
Nuriel nodded in relief. "That is exactly what I mean. You can feel the difference between Gabriel and Raphael and Castiel?"
"Yeah."
"Can you feel their grace without them touching you?"
"Sometimes." Sam frowned in concentration. "If one of them flies into a room, I can usually tell who it is without looking. And I can tell if someone uses their grace—even if they're trying to be sneaky." He directed that last part at a surprised Castiel.
The seraph recovered quickly and rolled his eyes. "Gabriel uses his grace for pranks on a daily basis, but I help you remove a lid one time. How do I get labeled as 'sneaky' forever?"
Gabriel snickered and stuck his tongue out.
Nuriel covered the archangel's face with her palm and pushed him back. "How about us? Me, Zadkiel, and Sariel? Can you feel us from where you're sitting?" Fledglings were notoriously sensitive to other grace-beings. Nuriel had always wondered if it was naturally due to being angels or because they were raised immersed in grace.
Sam's grace drew inward, gathering into a ball away from the surface. "Um, not really. I can tell you're here because there's a lot more pressure in the air. It kinda feels like being in an airplane at the start of take-off. But I can't tell you apart."
Interesting—maybe too sensitive? Nuriel added it to her growing list of observations. She might need to write it down later for the archives. "Whose grace are you most familiar with?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. The archangels' graces are really strong, but I've known Castiel's the longest—I could recognize him even as a human."
Nuriel blinked in surprise. Human sensitivity to grace was rare. She wondered if it was genetic or because he had been a vessel. Were both brothers as perceptive? "Then perhaps we should use Castiel as the starting anchor?"
Gabriel and Raphael both nodded their agreement while Castiel looked startled.
"What's an anchor?" Dean asked.
"An angel learns to fly by honing in on the grace of an anchor and moving toward it," Nuriel explained. "Most of the Host still use this method—we are usually sent in groups with our leader acting as anchor. It is more complicated to fly into a location on our own."
"So, I'll only be flying to an angel?" Sam looked disappointed.
"In the beginning? Yes. Now, I know you've been groomed. Have you ever groomed them?" Nuriel asked.
"What?" Disappointment switched to confusion. "What does that have to do with flying?"
"It has to do with interacting with grace. Recognizing Castiel is only half the work—your grace needs to reach for him and move you across a distance. Are you up for a little practice?" She gestured for Castiel to come sit in the space between her and Sam.
"I guess?" Sam sounded less than certain as he watched his friend navigate around the fire and people.
Morpheus shifted so Sam could turn and hang his legs off to one side. It kept Sam elevated enough to reach higher parts of Castiel's wings without moving to a pillow. Castiel reached down, scratching behind the canine's ears before sitting in front of the boy.
Nuriel watched as the seraph gave a slight shudder and manifested his wings. She'd always loved Castiel's grace. The deep black reflected swirls of colors like galaxies in the night sky. She could tell Sam loved them too by the way his eyes lit up.
Castiel scooted closer, settling when he felt the little fingers tentatively touch one wing.
"Tell me if I'm doing it wrong. I don't want to hurt you or pull too hard," Sam said quietly.
"You won't hurt me, Sam," Castiel reassured. He reached a hand back and pressed on a spot right above the boy's knee. Sam jumped and yanked forcefully on the wing. Castiel smirked. "You are more likely to tickle me with such a light grip."
"Dude, I will never get over how freaky that is," Dean said, squinting his eyes and staring at his brother's hands, "watching you paw at the air."
Sam scowled at him, but kept working his fingers through the dark wings. "Your face is freaky," he mumbled. "Why don't you go dig a moat, or whatever you were discussing? Quit staring at me like I'm disarming an invisible bomb."
Dean huffed. "You better not make Cas explode. Been there—done that—had to wash the t-shirt." Sariel stepped back in alarm, like she feared proximity to a Winchester might make her explode too. The hunter raised his hands, palms up, in reassurance. "It's okay! Cas hasn't blown up in a while. It was probably just a phase—it's not contagious!"
"No one is going to explode," Castiel's voice rumbled, deep and calm. "Dean, relax. Sariel, ignore him. Sam, please continue."
Dean just grinned at them, then shot Nuriel a wink when he caught her gaze. What does that mean? she asked Gabriel privately.
It means he accomplished his mission, Gabriel answered, nodding toward Sam.
Nuriel didn't understand at first. Not until she noticed how confident the boy was now that he'd been able to vent some tension. His grip was steady and his voice strong.
Hmm. It was not a technique she used with fledglings, but this human knew Sam better than anyone.
Raphael shifted in his seat, turning so he was facing Sam's back. "I think you could use a little work as well," he whispered. His fingers sifted through the wings with a light touch.
"Sam," Nuriel said after giving Raphael a few minutes to fall into a rhythm, "I want you to focus on the difference between Raphael and Castiel's grace."
Sam nodded, closing his eyes. His grace glowed and pushed outward. It illuminated his fingertips, making Castiel shiver and whisper guarantees that he was okay when Sam stopped.
"Can you feel the difference?" Nuriel asked, keeping her voice soft.
"Yeah," Sam answered quietly like he was in a trance. "Raphael is heavy. And warm. Like when you stand where sand meets the ocean—you just sink down, but you can still feel all the little grains? I don't know if I'm describing it right."
"It is a perfect description, Sam." She saw the Healer's cheeks flush with pleasure at the words. "And what about Castiel?"
Sam smiled and kept his eyes closed. "Cas is like…warm water…or maybe a summer storm. He even sounds like it. He has this…resonance. Like rain pouring against a metal roof, but deeper and not super loud? And there's this smell when he uses his grace…like the air when heavy clouds move in before a storm."
"Well, you just stay focused on that warm summer rain, okay? Don't just feel it—reach for it with your fingertips." Nuriel leaned against Gabriel again and basked in the moment. She watched silently, allowing the boy to work in peace.
Mary turned to Zadkiel and whispered questions about how grace was perceived by other angels. Did they all feel Castiel as rain or was that just Sam's experience? Nuriel smiled as she listened to the seraph's attempt to answer.
Raphael began to hum. It was a melody Nuriel had not heard since before humanity's creation—one of the songs of learning used to teach the story of Heaven's Garden. The words flowed back to her gradually.
So, do we pass your scrutiny, oh master?
Nuriel turned her head slightly to find Gabriel's gaze only inches away. You have done a wonderful job.
Gabriel blinked. What? Really?
Look at him. She waited until his eyes shifted to Sam. He is a miracle. Against all odds, he exists and he is thriving. I may have only met him today, but I was here when you brought him home after the kidnapping. I remember feeling his panic and pain. His despair at Raphael's healing. It shook all of us in the guard.
Yeah, Gabriel's stare grew distant. I forget how far we have come—in so short a time.
He was shaking with anxiety this morning. Now, he is sitting with strangers around a fire, allowing someone to touch his wings while he grooms another for the first time. He is extremely vulnerable—and he is falling asleep against Castiel.
He is…what?! Gabriel shook himself and really focused on Sam.
The boy's hands were no longer moving. Instead, his fingers were clenched in Castiel's wings, tangled in the inky grace. Sam's face pressed against the seraph's back. Nuriel hoped he could breathe around the beige fabric.
"Dad above," Gabriel swore in a low voice, "that kid can sleep anywhere…as long as it's not a bed."
"Is he asleep?" Castiel whispered.
"He's either asleep or he's really intent on sniffing your wings," Gabriel answered. Sam didn't move. Castiel sent an impressive glare to the archangel. "Oh, yeah. He's definitely asleep if he isn't protesting."
"I believe he has not been sleeping well," Raphael said, folding the small wings into place.
"Do we have to wake him up?" Mary asked. Her face and tone suggested she was firmly against such action.
Morpheus agreed, giving a low growl to voice his opinion.
"If Sammy's too tired to stay awake while sitting, then he's too tired to fly," Dean added.
"Alright, everyone calm down," Gabriel hushed them as he maneuvered to his knees and crept closer to Castiel. "Dean, for once, is right—mark it on your calendars. Sam needs to be rested and fully-charged before we start flying. Now, let's see if we can make him a bit more comfortable."
Raphael helped him carefully extract Sam's fingers from Castiel's wings. Gabriel held the boy's forehead, letting him lean against his palm while Castiel shifted away. It looked like they were going to make space to lay him down on the blanket.
Nuriel couldn't stop the disgruntled sound that came from the back of her throat—especially when she saw Sam's grace reach for the seraph as he moved. He grew restless in the archangels' hands, whining when he couldn't reach what he wanted. The archangels looked alarmed but unsure what to do with the fledgling propped up in their arms.
"Cas, get your ass back there before he wakes up!" Dean ordered in a whisper. Nuriel's respect for the human brother rose tenfold as she watched him carefully step around the pile of angels and pillows to reach Sam. He quickly and expertly took over holding the boy, batting away the archangels, and transferred him into Castiel's arms.
Castiel gently adjusted his sleeping bundle. Sam's body curled toward the seraph once his head rested in the crook of Castiel's arm. Everyone held their breath until the boy sighed and relaxed completely.
Nuriel shook her head slowly at the whole scene.
"What?" Gabriel asked as he sank back down beside her.
"Is it always like this?" She gestured toward the flock who were all still hypersensitive to Sam's every breath.
"Oh, you mean are we all mother-hens who constantly run around in a state of panic if Sam so much as sneezes?" Gabriel gave her a guilty grin. "Yeah, pretty much."
"It is no wonder you are all exhausted. Do you have a routine? Set actions and roles for each member to take for different situations?" Heaven functioned under extreme regulation. Everyone had a place and knew what to do in any event.
"Do we have a routine?" Gabriel let out a high, manic laugh that grated on Nuriel's grace. "Sister, we try to have a routine. Try to have three meals a day with grace lessons scheduled in the morning and afternoons. Try to get everyone to sleep on time and do our best to make sure it's not interrupted. And you know, I don't think we've managed to hold to that schedule for an entire day yet."
Nuriel looked at the humans—the brother and mother. She had not considered their role beyond the comfort their presence would bring to the child. But she saw how Mary was sure to include everyone, and even showed care and affection toward Zadkiel in their conversation.
Dean's role was the most defined of the flock. He confidently knew exactly what needed to be done and took charge when others floundered. He was not a passive supporter.
"I had not considered the complications of merging an angel flock with a human family. It must be difficult to find your balance."
"It's not that," Gabriel said. He stared at Sam with a sad smile. "Balancing the human and angel members of our little group was the easy part. The brothers and Castiel were already bound together—the rest of us just filled in the space around them."
"Then what is the hard part?"
Gabriel nodded toward Sam. "Balancing the human and angel aspects in that little guy. He is a ball of internal conflict walking around on two legs—an adult human mind crammed into a child's body and made of infant grace."
Nuriel had not thought of it in such terms. But the picture Gabriel painted clarified some things. It also created a whole new list of growing concerns. "So, it is Sam who is unsure of his role because he is carrying three. And everyone else is constantly trying to determine which aspect of Sam's self you should be reacting to."
"Yep." Gabriel turned to her. "If he wakes up right now, there's no telling how he'd react to Cas holding him. If he was feeling particularly adult, he'd be embarrassed and flustered and angry. But if he's young—meaning vulnerable or scared—he'd probably burrow further into Cas' coat and kick anyone who tried to make him move."
"Those are very different reactions," Nuriel said slowly.
"Now, how do I build a routine around that?" Gabriel challenged her, one eyebrow raised.
"Very carefully."
Gabriel's laughter was immediately hushed by several voices.
Nuriel grinned.
Sam didn't remember how the meeting ended. One minute he was grooming Castiel, surrounded by the bright scent of rain, and the next he was waking up in a bed, wedged between the seraph and his brother. They were in the communal room again.
Ugh, what time is it? he thought. A hand brushed through Sam's hair, making him jump.
Castiel huffed a quiet laugh. It is one in the morning.
Did I…did I say that over angel radio? Sam squirmed around Castiel's hand, trying to look at his face.
You fell asleep while connected to my grace. It opens a bond for a time and makes it very easy to hear one another. Castiel pulled the blanket up around Sam's shoulders. Try to sleep a little more.
Sam tried to do the math. I've been asleep for at least ten to twelve hours, Cas!
Yes, and you need more.
He'd fallen asleep in his very first class. He'd never slept in school—not even during naptime in kindergarten! Humiliation churned his stomach. Were they mad? he asked.
Who?
The guard! Sam buried his face in the pillow, hoping to smother himself into oblivion. I fell asleep during the meeting!
I remember. I believe Dean took a picture.
Sam was pretty sure Castiel had a smug smile on his face. He kicked at the seraph's shins, but the blankets made it nearly impossible to move his feet. The effect was rather unimpressive if Castiel's deep chuckle was any indication. You suck.
No one is angry. Now, go back to sleep or I will involve Dean in this dispute.
Sam gasped and froze under the blankets. Traitor!
You are welcome to get up, Gabriel's voice interrupted. We can discuss why you are reading dusty old books about theory instead of sleeping at night.
Cold dread crept down Sam's spine. Had the archangel gone into his room? Did Gabriel know about the book under his pillow? The light tone seemed to suggest that he didn't know—that he was only aware of Sam's late night reading. I'll sleep, he sighed in resignation.
I thought you might, Gabriel said.
Sam slowly drifted, eventually falling asleep. When he awoke again, he knew it was still early. Dean's muffled snores filled the space behind Sam.
"What time's it now?" Sam asked through a yawn.
"Six," Castiel answered.
Sam felt groggy after sleeping three-quarters of a day. It was more than he'd had in the last four nights combined. He stretched under the blanket, trying to rid his muscles of their stiffness. "Am I allowed to get up now?"
Castiel lightly bopped the top of his head. "You were allowed to get up before. You just did not like Gabriel's terms."
"There shouldn't be 'terms' to getting up," Sam grumbled, crawling out from under the covers. He glanced over toward the archangel's usual spot on the sofa and was surprised to find it empty.
"He's starting breakfast," Castiel explained.
Sam's stomach growled painfully at the mention of food. He saw Morpheus' little ears perk up from a bundle of bedding at the noise. "Not a word," he warned Castiel.
Castiel mimed zipping his mouth and Sam resisted the urge to smack him. The angel was spending too much time with Dean. He settled for glaring instead.
Crawling off the bed, Sam snagged Morpheus and left the room. He needed to get ready for the day. And find better hiding places for the book and his notes before Gabriel decided to have that "talk" in the future.
He paused outside his bedroom, and glanced down at Morpheus. "Go on ahead to the kitchen. I'm just gonna get changed. I'll be right there."
Morpheus snorted and shifted into his larger form. So I cannot see where you hide the book you don't want everyone to know you're reading?
Sam gaped at him. There was no way Morpheus knew what the book was about—he couldn't understand spoken Enochian, let alone the written form. The shame of deceit soured his hunger. "I didn't…"
You are allowed to have your own secrets, pup. Morpheus nuzzled his hair, making Sam feel worse. Just make sure the secret is worth it in the end.
Sam stood frozen as he watched the shifter disappear around the corner. Well, shit, he thought, opening the door. Once inside, he closed and locked the door behind him.
He went straight to the bed and pulled the book from underneath his pillow. It was barely large enough to be called a book—certainly not in comparison to the other enormous, leather-bound tomes brought from Heaven. It fit easily in his hand and contained less than thirty pages. But what wonderfully enlightening pages they were.
His fingers skimmed the edges of the thin manuscript. It held one of the primary things he wanted to learn and knew the others would rail against teaching—the step-by-step instructions on how to manifest an angel blade. There were a few pointers on how to fight with the blade, but Sam mostly wanted to know how to make one. He already knew how to fight with knives and swords.
In the grand scheme of his life, this secret barely registered—not when held up against Stanford or Ruby or the Book of the Damned. Plus, Raphael brought the book for him! So why did this small bundle of paper seem so heavy in his hand?
Sam sighed and tucked the manuscript between the mattress and headboard, under the fitted sheet. It was thin enough to not stick out. No one would notice unless they stripped the bed. He tried not to imagine what would happen if it was found.
When it's found, his mind whispered. When have you ever successfully kept secrets that didn't turn into disasters?
Sam told his mind to shut up and then went to breakfast.
The morning flew by with their usual routine. Food, run, short grooming session, and lunch. Nerves were nowhere near as high today when they all filed back outside to meet the guard.
Sam walked on his own this time. Morpheus had been mostly silent since his words of wisdom before breakfast, only speaking when necessary. There was no judgment in his gaze and Sam didn't know how to take that.
The guard was waiting for them on the ground. Sariel stalked the perimeter of the yard, her eyes always seeking potential threats through the trees. Dean broke off from the group to join her. Sam watched them pick back up their conversation from the previous day. It figured that the two members who were probably the most uncomfortable with the groups meeting were the ones who bonded first.
Nuriel stood with the red-headed angel by the firepit. What is his name again? Zekiel? Sam had only heard it said once or twice, and for some reason it refused to stick in his brain.
"Okay kids, are we ready to try this again?" Gabriel asked by way of greeting. Everyone nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The archangel crouched down by Sam. "First-things-first, we need the guard to get a tiny feel of your grace. Just enough so they can recognize you if you make a break for Disney World mid-flight. Did you decide yet?"
Gabriel had explained it over breakfast. The guard would act like a barricade to keep them in the yard. And like search-and-rescue dogs, they needed to get his "scent" in case he went astray.
"Handshake?" Sam figured anything that didn't involve hands on his wings or fists through his chest would be fine. He'd said as much to Gabriel, not expecting the horrified look he got in response.
"It could be even smaller, if you wanted," Gabriel leaned forward to whisper. "You could just touch fingertips." He held up a finger at Sam in demonstration.
"What, like E.T.?" Sam scoffed, displaying his own unimpressive middle finger. "I think I'll stick to a normal handshake, thanks."
Gabriel barked a laugh and ruffled Sam's hair. "Heathen! Fine—handshakes it shall be." He gestured Nuriel over.
The Caretaker knelt next to them, not caring that she was staining her suit with dirt. "I've never gotten to shake hands with a fledgling before," she said, offering her hand to Sam.
Sam slowly took it, although they didn't really shake. She simply held his hand in a light grasp. A look of concentration came over her face, like she was listening to something no one else could hear. Her hand felt warm and far more solid than just flesh. She reminded him of Raphael.
"Well, I guess that would be hard if they don't have hands. What do angel kids even look like? Balls of light floating around? Do you have to, like, tether them together so one doesn't float away?" Sam heard himself rambling and looked at Gabriel, silently begging him for help.
"Like having a body will keep you grounded! I thought we'd need to tether you to us before you sprouted wings." The archangel smirked. "Or have you forgotten the tree-incident?"
"One time, Gabe," Sam muttered under his breath.
"Sounds like there's a story there," Nuriel said, standing up to make way for the next seraph. "Your turn, Zadkiel."
That's his name! Sam thought in relief. It was awkward enough touching each person without the added pressure of one realizing he didn't remember their name.
The redhead took Nuriel's place kneeling on the grass. For a moment, he did nothing but look at Sam. There was a glint of awe in his eyes, but it was mixed with sadness. Sam wondered if this was how Harry Potter felt every time he met wizards who recognized him—if he were a real person and not a character.
"Hello, Sam," Zadkiel said and Sam was surprised by the softness of his voice. He'd grown used to the rumbling of Castiel and Raphael, and the booming power behind Gabriel. But Zadkiel was smooth, like the surface of undisturbed water.
"Hi." Sam thrust his hand out.
Zadkiel took his hand, covering it between both of his own. It was the exact same way Castiel had first taken his hand all those years ago. Sam held his breath, hoping this angel didn't subscribe to Heaven's early "Winchester propaganda."
The corner of Zadkiel's mouth twitched upward. "You are very strong."
"Um, thanks," Sam said awkwardly. He continued talking when it appeared Zadkiel was in no rush to let go. "So, what is it you do? Gabriel didn't mention a specific role." The only thing he remembered the archangel saying was that Zadkiel was younger and a nerd.
Zadkiel lifted his gaze to Sam's face. "I am the angel of mercy and compassion."
"Oh. Right." Sam nodded like he understood. He'd read about such titles for angels, but he'd never met one who actually held it. Mercy and compassion hadn't seemed very high on Heaven's list of priorities.
"I listen to prayers and try to direct them to the appropriate department. You might consider me a glorified office clerk here on Earth," Zadkiel explained, finally releasing Sam's hand.
"You would be no such thing," Raphael commented firmly, then turned to Sam. "There are very few angels of mercy and compassion left among the Host. And they are unique in their perception of humanity and emotion."
"He also falls under the category of 'Messenger' and no one in my department gets to call themselves a 'glorified office clerk.'" Gabriel pulled the seraph to his feet and landed a playful punch to his shoulder.
"Be nice," Sam said, kicking the archangel's shin. It felt good to finally land a hit without being impeded by blankets. "You can't punch people to make them feel better."
"I thought that was the Winchester way!" Gabriel made a show of rubbing his leg, but Sam knew it was all theatrics. Besides, he could barely bruise Dean anymore. "Sariel! Get over here before this gremlin goes for my kneecaps."
Sariel flew from across the yard, landing a few feet from Gabriel. The sound alone knocked Sam back and it was only Raphael's steadying hands that kept him from falling on his ass. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.
"Sweet baby J, Sariel—I didn't mean literally!" Gabriel said, shaking his head.
Sariel blinked at him before shifting her stoic stare to Sam. Instead of the warmth and nervousness he'd seen in the other two seraphs, this one exuded intimidation and a cool lack of emotion. She studied him with an air of indifference.
Sam felt some of his tension ease. This was at least familiar—more like all the other angels they'd dealt with through the years. He drew himself upright, pushing away from Raphael. Carefully blanking his face, he offered his hand.
He was not expecting to see a massive set of wings manifest over her shoulders as she slowly bowed her head in greeting. They were a deep burnt sienna with veins of crimson and amber and tipped with a white glow. She was breathtakingly fierce.
Sam openly gawked, his mouth dropping open in amazement. He heard Gabriel grumble about "traditionalist angels" being show-offs. But everything else around him faded away at the sight of her wings.
Sariel crouched down, moving with the power and grace of a wildcat. Her body remained ready to spring into action as she analyzed his hand. Finally, she pressed her palm to his without actually grasping it.
Sam wasn't prepared for the heat that emanated off her grace. It was like accidentally touching a car door that had sat in the sun for hours. His hand jerked back a few inches in surprise.
"Dial it back a bit, Sariel," Gabriel advised. "Don't pool all your grace on the surface—you want him to reach you, not you reach for him."
Sam didn't think he'd reached for any of them. He shook his hand and took a breath. When the sting went away, he very slowly returned his palm to her.
"My apologies," Sariel said in a flowing soprano voice. "I have never assisted with fledgling lessons before—I am not as skilled in subtle grace work like my companions. But I have tracked angels who have been banished. Do not fret. If you get lost, I will find you."
"Thanks. I think." Sweat built on Sam's palm. The heat no longer burned, but her grace was still sweltering. He hoped she finished before it became gross.
"Zadkiel is correct—you are very strong. Your grace has bite." Sariel moved fluidly to her feet. "I look forward to seeing you grow."
"Okay!" Gabriel took her by the shoulders and directed her back toward Dean. "Yes, thank you for making Castiel look like the poster child of social competence. Go take your place along the perimeter and keep Deano distracted for us."
Sam wiped his hand on his pants as he watched her walk away. She'd felt so much like Michael, only muted—a bonfire to the archangel's colossal wildfire. He was sweaty and cold at the same time now.
Gabriel crouched down, taking both of Sam's hands and cradling between his own. A warm breeze purged the lingering smell of smoke and balanced his body's internal debate about temperature. "How we doing?" he murmured.
Sam could only nod. It was easier to breathe but his throat felt parched. He jumped at the sudden sound of a snap and found thermos in front of his face.
The archangel opened the lid and Sam sniffed. Sweet-smelling steam tickled his face and nose. He sipped it, and sighed as warm tea with hints of chamomile and oranges washed away the remaining traces of fire and ice.
"Thanks. I'm good," Sam said, handing the thermos back half-drained.
Gabriel studied him for a second before reluctantly taking the tea and standing and addressing the guard. "So, we discussed it some this morning and decided that I'd be the one who takes Sam on his test-flights."
Nuriel's eyebrows went up and she looked at Castiel.
"I do not know if I can provide sufficient protection to his grace while still exposing him enough to learn from the experience." Castiel had been adamant—one of the archangels needed to take Sam.
"Cas just knows how sneaky you can be," Gabriel joked, sending Sam a wink that turned his stomach, "but I promise not to drop you!" He held out his arms and waited, a concerned look growing when Sam didn't move.
Why did it even matter if he read the damn book? He'd grown up sneaking into motel bathrooms to do his homework, forced to finish it in secret after his dad and brother had fallen asleep. Because it took time away from researching legends, learning to fight with weapons, and performing first aid on bleeding family members. Why shouldn't he learn how to protect himself in this new form?
"Sam? You okay, mini-moose?" Gabriel frowned.
Sam nodded, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes and mind. "Yup! Sorry, all that hot and cold and steam took a second to settle. I'm good!" He tried to grin and not confess on the spot.
Gabriel scooped Sam up and studied him close at eye-level. "You sure? You look…nervous."
"We've never been big fliers," Sam gulped.
"Well, you just relax. All we're gonna do is make a couple jumps around the yard and we'll talk between each one. No pranks or jokes—I won't do anything to surprise you." Gabriel sounded so earnest it hurt. "The whole point of this is for you to understand each step and what it feels like. If you have any questions, just ask. Okay?"
"Okay."
Gabriel nodded his head at the other angels and they all moved out toward the tree line. Mary smiled at them and gave a thumbs-up as she followed Zadkiel. Sam's hand gripped tighter to the archangel's jacket.
"Just breathe, Sammy. We aren't taking off, so go ahead and breathe." Gabriel held still as he spoke. He didn't sway or walk around, for which Sam was grateful.
He hadn't been nervous about the actual flying until that exact moment. His panic had stayed centered on the angel guard, but seeing Gabriel's wings glowing gold in the sunlight made his immediate situation very real. "I hope I don't puke," Sam blurted out.
Gabriel rested a hand on Sam's back, easing his nausea. "It's fine if you do—nothing a little snap won't fix."
"Awesome." He took a deep breath, relieved when his stomach stayed settled. "Okay, I'm good. I just got a little nervous there. It's silly. I mean, I've flown before!"
"Not with wings, you haven't," Gabriel said, understanding the problem. "It's different. Believe me—I know. And after a jump, you'll know it too."
"Different how?"
"It's kinda like riding a horse. You can look at a horse and watch someone else ride, but until you've gotten on the back of one yourself, you can't understand the muscles and movements needed to stay balanced."
"And flying before wasn't like riding a horse?" Sam asked.
"Nope—more like sitting in a wagon behind the horse. But with wings, you'll feel it on a whole-body level. Now, when I'm flying us, it'll be like riding behind me. You'll won't be steering, but you'll feel it. Does that make sense?"
Sam laughed. "After riding Morpheus around for a week or two, it definitely makes sense."
"I love it when a good analogy works out," Gabriel said as he checked to see that everybody was in place. "Alright, so for this first jump, I only want you to focus on how it feels. We're just going to go about ten feet to the right, okay?"
Sam wanted to burrow under the archangel's jacket. Some instinct in him screamed to flatten his wings, bind them in some way that doesn't leave them exposed, but he didn't have the control. Instead, he simply tightened his grip with hands and legs, and leaned in.
Gabriel wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him all the way against his chest. "It's okay to stay close. My grace will keep you from getting overwhelmed. Ready?"
"Do I have to keep my eyes open?" Sam almost yelled in his haste to ask.
A hand moved up to his head and encouraged Sam to press his face into his throat. "Nope. Close your eyes and just breathe. We'll go when you're ready."
Sam took a breath. Gabriel smelled like lavender and mint. The scent cooled his lungs and nerves. He nodded. "Ready."
He heard the roar of wings and wind, and clung to Gabriel as they started spinning, spiraling through something thinner than water but heavier than air. It moved through his wings, reaching inside his grace in a way fingers never could. He felt it coat his entire being like Raphael's grace-wrap during healing, but this was not grace. This was something completely other.
There was not way to tell how long it lasted. It couldn't be measured in breaths or heartbeats because neither existed in the between. But when it ended, Sam became extremely aware of both.
They landed and a world of sensation exploded around him. Sam gasped in air that tasted like wood smoke and dirt. Blood rushed through his ears, adding a steady rumble to the cacophony of birds and insects.
"Easy. Easy, now," a voice said, cutting through the commotion. "Take your time—I got ya. Don't open your eyes until you've got your other senses settled. There you go."
It took a few minutes before the world felt stationary again. Sam cautiously peeked out from Gabriel's shoulder and had to squint at the intense colors filling his vision. Eventually, the archangel's face swam into focus.
"Welcome back, Samshine!" Gabriel said with a bright smile.
Sam glanced around them. The world was encased in the hazy glow of auras. He rubbed at his eyes, but the effect remained. "Whoa," was all he could say.
"It's pretty impossible to describe using human metaphors, isn't it? It doesn't quite capture the experience." The light around Gabriel slowly dimmed as he spoke. "How are you doing?"
"Um, okay, I think."
"Thoughts? Opinions?"
"You're right. 'Horse riding' doesn't really do that justice. It's more like being shoved into the spin cycle of a washing machine…while falling from an airplane…through a tornado."
"Was it awful?" Concern radiated from Gabriel's entire being. "Do we need to take a break or get you a drink?"
"It was kinda awesome, actually," Sam said honestly.
He never saw himself as an "adrenaline junkie" like a lot of other hunters. A quiet evening with a good novel or movie was thrill enough. But once in a while, he'd get hit with the desire to find a theme park and ride a rollercoaster or go parasailing—something life-affirming and exciting.
Of course, it never happened. A case would pop up or they'd be nowhere near a park or ocean, and the urge would pass within a couple days. And they never went to things like that as kids.
"You…you liked it?" Gabriel's concern melted into bafflement.
"I think so," Sam grinned. He anticipated warming up to the activity. "I didn't have my eyes open, though. I may have a completely different opinion once I see it."
"You up for another jump?"
"Sure. Anything I should know about what I'll be seeing?" Sam had seen enough horrific visions to last even an angel's lifetime. But it meant his imagination was more advanced than most people. "Are there, like, giant creatures floating around in that place? Or crazy colors? Will it burn my eyes like chlorine in a pool?" He suddenly wished he had goggles.
"Again, it's hard to describe in human terms," Gabriel sighed. "There's no creatures—just the world around you, but it'll seem paused and like there's more. There will be colors you can't name and energies you didn't know existed. Your eyes might feel like you're looking into the wind, but it shouldn't hurt."
"Okay."
"You tell me when you're ready to go again."
Sam took a deep breath and rested his cheek on Gabriel's shirt. The arms around him tightened. "Ready."
The world shifted and froze as the rushing sound again filled Sam's ears. It was like they'd paused a video, blurring the image slightly. The color scheme flipped, casting the yard in crimson, violet, indigo, and another hue he'd never seen before.
The spinning sensation hit, completely contradicting the motionless picture around him. Then, he saw Gabriel's wings extended outward, lights pulsing through the pathways of each "feather." It propelled them forward and Sam could feel the movement and knew it was right even though the scenery didn't match.
It was like strolling on a moving walkway, propelled faster by time itself. The stop was jarring—a sudden end of momentum met with the eruption of life at full-speed. The strange colors reverted to normal, although they retained their brightness. His hearing stayed more enhanced for a few minutes, and he focused on listening to Gabriel's heartbeat until the vibrancy died down.
"There we go—right back where we started." Gabriel rubbed Sam's back, helping to ground him in the physical. "How was that? Are you doing okay? Ready to puke?"
"Why do you have a heartbeat?" Sam had no filter to stop the words from tumbling past his lips. He'd gone from zero to strongest-hallucinogenic-drug-trip-ever to zero again in under what felt like a matter of seconds.
"To keep my vessel pink and life-like."
"I can hear you grinning."
"And I can hear you tripping." Gabriel pulled Sam back to see him better. "Are you tripping on time, Samuel Winchester? Because your brother will kill me if you start seeing vapor-trails."
Sam frowned. "Well, maybe you can slam his brain into an alternate dimension for a minute and see how well he does."
"Oh, good. You're fine." Gabriel gave a heavy sigh of relief and clutched Sam close again. "I thought I'd addled you."
"I am addled!"
"But no more than usual," Gabriel lightly teased. "So, what did you think this time?"
"It was…wild."
"Good wild or bad wild?"
"Not bad. But not great. Good-ish?" Sam had no way to express himself—no language to articulate how he felt or what he experienced.
"Alright! I'll take 'good-ish!'"
"I think I just need to get used to that…place. The colors and weird floaty movement, like we're sliding—it's pretty off-putting."
"Just remember—we all had to get used to it at some point. Learning to fly is sort of a rite of passage for angels. It's something we celebrate and get really excited about. But it takes time and a lot of effort for everyone, so we usually take it slow. You aren't training for a race here and there's no deadline. Okay?"
Sam frowned, grateful the archangel couldn't see his face against the jacket. There may not be a deadline but that was only because they didn't know when it would be needed. And it would be needed—it was simply a matter of when.
"Okay?" Gabriel repeated.
"Okay," Sam finally answered.
They spent the next hour making small jumps around the yard. Each time, Sam grew aware of new details. Patterns in motion, color shifts, and changes in pitch always led to questions during their short breaks between flights.
Passing another angel always altered the flow of everything. And while they remained fixed in place, Sam swore he saw their eyes track his movement. It was more disturbing to see the lack of responsiveness in his mom and brother.
The first time he stood next to Gabriel, holding only his hand, something triggered in Sam's own wings. They lit up and moved in an entirely new way, emulating the archangel. He felt like he was hanging on to a speedboat and kicking his legs.
"Look at you getting the hang of it!" Gabriel said gleefully when they landed. He'd immediately crouched down, steadying Sam and looking him over for any sign of discomfort.
"The only thing I had the 'hang of' was your hand," Sam said, still breathing hard. It was getting easier, but had been so much more intense! He hadn't realized how much Gabriel shielded him by carrying him through the flight.
"Nah, you did great! And I saw those little wings trying to keep up," Gabriel ruffled Sam's hair with brazen pride, "You're almost ready to try solo!"
"What?!" Sam ducked his head away from the hand and stared at Gabriel in horror.
"Not right this second," Gabriel assured. "And don't forget—you have four seraphs and two archangels to make sure you don't go astray."
"Yeah, but…" Sam bit his lip. This was what he wanted, right? He needed to learn as fast as possible—needed to prove himself capable. But even though he'd understood angel flight was nothing like birds, he hadn't known it would be like stepping into a dream world that bordered between surreal and a nightmare. The idea of entering it alone sent a thrill of terror through him.
"Hey," Gabriel said softly, his face suddenly much closer, "there's no rush here. No one will make you try until you feel ready. I promise."
"Stop that!" Frustration spiked in Sam. He wasn't a child, damnit! When had the world turned upside down? Suddenly, John giving him a gun to protect himself from monsters seemed painfully normal by comparison.
Gabriel pulled back, confusion vibrating through his aura. "Stop what?"
"Being so nice!" Sam squeezed his eyes shut. His emotions all floated on the surface, like an oil spill over water—ready to erupt with a single spark. Nothing wanted to stay settled and this last jump had stripped him raw.
"Okay, kiddo," Gabriel sighed.
Hands gripped under Sam's arms and lifted him. He tried to twist away but the hands pulled him closer, settling him against the familiar chest. He felt them start walking across the yard.
"Put me down!" Sam ordered, his voice muffled by the t-shirt.
"Hold on, we're almost there." Gabriel rubbed his back, ignoring Sam's demands and flailing feet. "I think it's time for a long break."
"I don't need a break." Sam's throat burned, and he pushed his face into the fabric. He felt himself losing control and he hated it.
"We all need a break, Sam. It's okay." Gabriel walked faster.
Sam heard footsteps running toward them and wished he could disappear.
"What's wrong?" Castiel asked just seconds before Dean.
"Nothing's wrong. That last jump was just a little too much, I think, and now we need a break." Gabriel shifted Sam around in his arms.
Sam fought back, tightening his grip on the jacket. He wasn't sure if he wanted to burrow into the archangel or run and find a hiding place. Part of him was still spiraling, untethered from reality, and it was terrifying.
Gabriel made hushing noises in his ear. "It's okay, Sam. You're gonna sit with Cassie, alright? He's gonna crank that petrichor up to an eleven until you catch your breath. Here we go."
A strong arm wrapped around Sam's waist.
"I can walk!" he yelled.
"Are you certain?" Castiel gave a low laugh—a rumble Sam felt through his back.
"Yes!"
Gabriel's hands fell away and Castiel lowered him down. The ground was a shock against his feet. The arm let him go and Sam's knees gave out. His limbs flailed and found Castiel only inches away.
"Sam?" Castiel said, holding him steady. Sam grunted. "You need to open your eyes."
Heat swept across his skin and Sam knew he'd be red enough to appear sunburned. He'd forgotten about sight. How could he not remember an entire sense?
Sam blinked carefully, anticipating the harsh sunlight in his eyes. Instead, he found Castiel's face filled his vision. When had he moved?
As his eyes and brain focused, the spinning died down. Each breath brought him closer to the Earth and his own body. After a minute, he nodded to Castiel.
"Do you still wish to walk?"
"I…" Sam shifted his weight between feet. They shook with the effort of standing. "Not really."
Castiel looked relieved and picked him back up. The smell of rain filled Sam's lungs. It washed away the sharp edges of tension.
Panic faded, making space for mortification. Why had he said any of those things to Gabriel? Who tells someone to stop being nice? No wonder he'd been given to Castiel—the archangel probably needed a break too.
"What's got him so worked up?" Dean's worried voice came beside Castiel's shoulder.
"I believe the answer is 'everything,'" Castiel whispered.
Sam groaned. It wasn't a lie.
Gabriel stood beside Nuriel as they watched Castiel carry Sam toward the fire, Dean hot on their heels.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I'm not sure." He'd run through the entire sequence of events several times, combing through the details to find what had triggered the boy. "Best as I can tell, he got overwhelmed on that last jump."
Nuriel nodded. "He was much more exposed that time. And did I see his wings try to fly with you?"
"Yup."
"But that is not what has you worried," she observed.
Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. "There's something else going on with him. I just…don't know what it is yet."
"Something new?"
"I think so."
"The good thing about such young grace," Nuriel said, leaning against him, "is that it can never keep secrets. It will always tell you what's wrong in the end."
"Yeah, but that's before a Winchester had grace!" Gabriel gave an empty laugh. "If anyone could outsmart the system, it would one of them."
Nuriel grabbed his elbow, turning him to face her. She smiled and slowly shook her head. "He may try to conceal the problem. He may try to bury it out of sight. He may even try to deny it exists to himself. But his grace cannot, will not, allow it forever. You just have to pay attention."
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
HOLY HELL, HOW DID THIS CHAPTER REACH OVER 11K!?
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