Chapter 2
Sam didn't know what to do. After so many years fighting the unknown, of putting his life on the line to kill monsters, he knew he should have done something. He should have fought, should have risen and tried to find whatever had been attacking him. Instead, Sam had all but embraced it. Whatever it was that washed over him felt terrific, pure. After a few seconds, the feeling became pleasurable, relaxing, and perfect all at once. Sam never wanted it to stop. As the sensation left, the hunter slumped over on the bed, trying to catch his breath. He was a sitting target, whatever it was with him could easily end him if it so desired.
Once his breath was no longer coming in gasps, Sam straightened himself and whispered his thanks. Even if something was going to take him out, for the first time in his life, the hunter felt cleansed. Even when he was a child, it felt like there was something off, like something was wrong with him. Now Sam felt as if he were innocent again, normal in a way he had never experienced before. Sensing eyes on him, the tall man didn't bother to turn around, though he did tilt his head when he heard a whooshing noise from behind.
Glancing down before he tried to stand, Sam noticed the feather by his knee. It was large, about a foot in length and bright gold. Hesitantly, he picked up the quill and brought it to his chest. With gentle fingers, he stroked the plume lightly. It was soft, softer than he was expecting, it's shimmering gold seemingly reflecting the dim light in the room. It also was giving off a soft glow, nothing he would have noticed in broad daylight, but in the dull motel room with only a bedside lamp on, Sam could see the light cling to the feather.
There was only one thing he could think of which would purify him and leave a feather as a calling card. In wonder, Sam remained kneeling beside the bed while he looked at the plume which he held innocently in his hand. Going to his duffel bag, the hunter grabbed some string from his kit and tied it around the base of the feather before carefully making it into a pendant. The hunter tucked the feather under the collar of his shirt, not wanting to alarm Dean when the older man came back before he could explain. Sam climbed into bed with a smile on his face. For the first time in his life, he drifted into a restful sleep, secure in the knowledge at the very least; his prayers were heard.
"What the fuck Sam?!"
Groaning for what felt like the thousandth time in the past twenty minutes, Sam tried to explain what happened the previous night to his brother. Dean had returned to the motel room early in the morning, having slunk away from whatever woman's house he was at the previous night. It wasn't that Sam wasn't expecting this, if anything Dean continuing to ask the same question was probably the best-case scenario. Looking at his brother, Sam sighed before trying again, his voice calm even though he wanted to bash his head into the wall.
"I told you, it was weird. I know you have a tough time believing Dean, but what else could do that? Far as I know, only one thing comes in the purifying with feathers category. I'm not saying we shouldn't check it out, I'm just saying maybe we should count this one in the win column," explained Sam.
"In the win- are you even listening to yourself? This thing whatever it was, messed with you, Sammy. It got all up in your head and made you believe you were touched by an angel. Well, I've got news for you, we've sung this song before back with Father Gregory. It wasn't an angel then, and it isn't one now." While he was speaking, Dean was throwing their things together, stuffing their duffel bags while refusing to look too long at Sam.
For his part, Sam remained where he was sitting on the bed waiting for his brother to calm down. Once Dean was done packing, Sam stood from where he had been sitting on his bed, grabbing his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. The movement caused the pendant Sam made from the feather to sway slightly and catching Dean's attention. While the older brother had been seemingly starting to calm down, at the sight of the feather his eyes narrowed again. Sam could see the slight flush at the base of the other's neck meaning his brother was about to go off on another rant.
"And that's another thing," began Dean, no longer caring if the neighbors heard him yell. "You haven't taken that thing off since you found it. How do you know it's not working some mojo on you? Will you at least take it off until we get to Bobby's?"
When Dean went to reach for the feather, Sam stepped back, his hand holding the plume to his chest. "See? You won't even let me see the damn thing. Just… put it in your bag Sam; we'll see to it when we get to Bobby's." Sam knew what Dean was saying made sense. They didn't know where the feather came from or what it might be doing to him. Still, the hunter couldn't help but hold his hand a bit tighter. No matter what Dean said, Sam believed what he had around his neck was an angel feather, something so pure and rare shouldn't be tossed in the same bag as his dirty shorts.
"I feel you, Dean, I do. I just… what if I'm right? What if this really is an angel feather? You want me to shove it into the same bag I shove my dirty underwear? I mean, you heard Father Reynolds; angels are wrathful. You don't think one would take offense to me throwing away their gift?" Sam kept eye contact while he spoke, trying to will Dean to understand where he was coming from. Watching as his brother sighed before bringing a hand to his forehead, Sam couldn't help the moment of victory before Dean hardened his jaw.
"Alright. You're right Sam for all we know this could be an angel feather. But if it's not and I'm right then, we need to get it off you. If you won't let me put it in the trunk with the rest of the gear at least let me take it until we get to Bobby's. He already knows how I feel about the damn thing so if it starts making me act strangely he'll be able to tell."
Hesitating, Sam took a breath before nodding. Dean was right, while he didn't think the feather was harming him if he were under a spell he wouldn't be able to tell. Carefully, Sam lifted the string over his head and reached his hand toward his brother. As Dean reached out, Sam jerked his hand back for a moment. "Promise you won't hurt it unless Bobby says there's something wrong Dean. The last thing we need is the wrath of Heaven on us; we have enough problems as it is."
Dean agreed before taking the feather and looping the string around his neck. The quill didn't do anything, only the same soft glow Sam hadn't mentioned to his brother. Keeping the light a secret from Dean wasn't Sam's intention, however since Dean didn't say anything about it, Sam decided against bringing it up. If he was going to make a case about the feather not being harmful, indicating he could see power coming from it wasn't going to help. Gathering his things, the hunters remained silent, considering the issue on pause until they arrived at Bobby's.
About a mile down the highway, Sam felt something around his neck. Bringing his hand to his chest, the brunet was surprised when he felt the now-familiar outline of the feather under his shirt. Glancing over at Dean, Sam decided to wait until they were at Bobby's before he said anything. The last thing they needed was for Dean to get into a car wreck with the way he tended to swerve when startled. Letting go of the feather, Sam smiled as he felt a warmth against where it was resting. While he could understand where Dean was coming from, Sam had no intentions of allowing any harm to come to his gift.
The glow wasn't from a curse or spell; it was grace.
