Warning: Some S2 finale spoilers in use from here on, but not in the same context.

You oddballs are awesome!! Returns oddball salute – my version, of course. (If there were a handbook, we couldn't be oddballs.)

Chapter Fourteen

Sam floated in a place of warmth and light. He was comfortable, safe, protected. Like a newborn puppy snuggling into warm human hands, Sam curled up into the light. A nudge from behind dislodged him, just enough to be uncomfortable. The darkness outside the safety of the light waited for him, to engulf him again. Sam withdrew, wrapping the light around him like a blanket. As he snuggled down he felt another nudge, harder this time. His blanket of light was dislodged and the darkness encroached.

Panicked, Sam tried to back away from the darkness into the light. He felt that nudge again, but this time it was hard enough to hurt.

"What?" Sam demanded, exasperated. "What do you want?"

"For you to wake up," Dean's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The light surrounding Sam, keeping the darkness back, sounded like Dean. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up."

With Herculean effort, Sam peeled his eyes open. Dean's worried face swam into view. His brother smiled. "Hey sleeping beauty. Trying to get out of doing a little research?" Dean's hands fell away and that wonderful warm feeling evaporated. He was just Sam again.

Sam tore his eyes away from his brother's face to see where they were. They were inside a room that seemed kind of familiar. Oh, right, it was that abandoned house Dean found for them to stay in. At least it had running water. He tried to sit up, but stars danced in front of his eyes when he moved.

"Easy, easy," Dean said, strong hands holding him down. "You took a pretty good knock to the head." The warmth flooded into him again and Sam leaned into the touch, like he was three and his brother could make everything in the world okay.

"I did?" Sam asked. He tried to remember what happened, but it was all a blur in a haze of pain. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dean's voice took on a deadly tone, "but I plan to find out."

Sam pressed his palms against his eyes, attempting to will away the throbbing headache. He was pretty sure part of his brain was liquefying and would pour out an ear any minute now. Dean's statement penetrated the pain. "Find out what?" Sam pulled one hand away to look at his brother. "Wasn't it the ghost?"

One side of Dean's mouth twitched. Sam reached out with his emotions to see how Dean felt about it. As he expected, Dean was furious. Now who or what held the honor of being the object of his brother's fury was another matter. "Dean?" Sam allowed both of his hands to drop in order to stare at his brother. "Wasn't it the ghost?"

Dean shrugged, looking away. "Not sure."

"But you have an idea," Sam insisted. "Which is more than I'm capable of right now." Sam groaned, pressing his palms against his forehead. "I wish it would just explode and get it over with already."

"You shouldn't talk like that, Sam," Dean warned, "not anymore."

"Ha-ha. Not funny, Dean." Sam allowed his eyes to close, just for a moment, at least until his head felt a little bit better.

"Oh, I don't know," a familiar voice said, "it was a little funny."

Sam dropped his hands as his head snapped to the side. Leaning against the far wall, watching them, was Mike. "Dean?" Sam could not keep the accusation out of his voice.

"Don't look at me," Dean replied, standing. "I didn't invite him."

Sam groaned at the loss of Dean's touch, at the loss of the light. Dean glanced back, that worried expression plastered across his brother's face. Sam doubted anything could make his brother stop worrying about him, that in itself gave Sam more reassurance than mere words. He bit back the desire to ask Dean to put a hand on him, brush his shoulder, something. Instead he focused on the archangel currently invading their privacy.

"What are you doing here, Michael?" he asked, remembering to avoid the nickname only Dean was allowed to use. What was it about his brother's personality that forced you to let him use hated nicknames, anyway? "Ready to tell us the name of the spirit now?"

Michael pushed off the wall to face Sam. "Sorry, I can't do that." The quick exhale, almost a snort, from Dean was his brother's way of saying 'told you so.' Sam shot his brother a look to say 'yeah, you did, now shut up about it.'

"But if Dean would like to go get some food, I can hang out here until he gets back," Mike offered.

Dean's eyes narrowed and that low level of annoyed green glow crept into his brother's eyes. "Why?" He stepped right up to Mike. "Planning to plot behind my back with Sammy?"

Sam shook his head, like he would do that. Then again, if Dean backed down… If Dean backed down then he would probably be dead now, though he had no idea why he was so certain of that. Nope, Sam was not sure if Dean backing down was a viable option any longer. Boy, that was selfish of him. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, wondering where the hell that came from. Probably the same place as the empathy, he decided.

"Nothing like that, Dean," Mike replied with that smooth voice. "I just wanted to talk to your brother for a couple of minutes, that's all." He tossed his thick black hair. "I'm curious about what happened."

"Like you don't know?" Dean asked, the accusation clear. Sam wondered why Dean would be accusing Mike, and of what.

Mike shook his head. "Honest, Dean. I have no idea. I wasn't there."

"And you don't know?" Dean demanded pointedly.

"I don't know," Mike replied, the same calm voice. "All I know is I had nothing to do with it."

"If I leave you two alone, when I come back Sam will still be here, in one piece. You won't let anyone hurt him." It was not a question, Sam realized. Dean was issuing orders to an archangel. If he did not feel so bad, Sam would laugh at that.

The odd thing was Mike looked just as serious as Dean did. "Not anyone or anything," Mike promised solemnly.

Dean pointed a steady finger at Mike. "I'm holding you to that."

Mike bowed his head. "Thank you."

Sam watched the exchange silently, honestly not understanding what was happening here. Dean left, but only after giving Sam a long look that clearly asked for permission. Sam gave his brother a tight nod, intensely curious about what Mike could not talk about in front of Dean. Of course, he planned to tell his brother everything. Probably. Well, it depended on what it was.

Mike maintained his wall vigil for a good ten or fifteen minutes before Sam broke the silence. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Those perfect angelic features creased into a contemplative frown. "What was it like?" he asked, moving away from the wall.

"Getting hit on the head?" Sam asked, not at all understanding the nature of Mike's question. "I don't know, because I don't remember any of it."

Mike shook his head, wild dark curls bouncing. He pulled over a chair missing half the back, dragged it over beside Sam's makeshift bed. "When Dean healed you, could you feel it? What did it feel like?" His eyes glittered with curiosity and something more, something deeper.

Sam shrugged, unable to look away. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Sam," he felt a hand on his arm, warm and comforting. It wasn't Dean's hand, but it did feel similar and Sam could not find it in himself to pull away. "Could you feel the light?"

At the mention of it, Sam felt his face split into a broad smile. "It was everywhere, warm and comforting and…" his voice trailed off at the grin spreading over Mike's face. "Problem?"

Mike let out a loud chuckle. "Nope, not anymore." Sam glared, causing Mike to clear his throat, hopefully to elaborate. "Well, some of the others were worried that… But obviously they're wrong because you saw the light, so there shouldn't be…" Mike stood, waving his hands at Sam. "Nothing to really worry about."

"Nothing to really worry about?" Sam asked, pushing himself up to sitting. "As in, there is something to worry about just not a lot?"

Sam was shocked to see Mike squirm on the broken chair. "I didn't say that. Exactly."

"You know," Sam replied, narrowing his eyes at Mike, "Dean is better at avoidance and deflection than you are. Maybe you should take notes. Speaking of which, what exactly should I be worried about?"

Mike's eyes darted away, studying the wall behind Sam. He waited, knowing what he would say if this were Dean instead of Michael. But that probably would not work anyway.

"You asked if I could feel the light, not see it," Sam said, thinking out loud in order to gauge Mike's reactions, as if angels reacted the same way as people. "So you weren't sure if I could feel it much less see it, right?"

Mike avoided eye contact, but he did give a small shake of his head.

"Why would you think that?" Sam asked, remembering the darkness that kept pushing against the light. The familiar roar of the Impala sounded just outside the house.

"Oh, thank God," Mike muttered, leaping up from his seat. As Dean burst through the door, a white plastic bag swinging from one hand, Mike gave a quick wave and disappeared.

"Sammy? Everything all right?" Dean asked, glaring at the spot Mike occupied only a second ago.

"Yeah, fine, Dean," Sam replied, settling back on the bed.

Dean pulled a Styrofoam container out of the bag dangling from one hand. Sam smelled the heavenly scent of enchiladas wafting up. "Dude, you read my mind."

Dean started when Sam said that, causing Sam to chuckle. "Not literally!"

Dean gave him an embarrassed smile. "So," Dean started once he settled next to Sam on the old mattress, food in hand, "what was all that about?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm really not sure. He was being pretty weird." He tried some of the enchilada. Oh yes, it did taste as good as it smelled.

"Define weird," Dean insisted around a mouthful of food.

Sam was grateful not to be facing his brother as they ate. Dean's habit of talking with his mouth full was, well, disgusting. Apparently acquiring archangel abilities did not mean he had to acquire table manners.

Sam shrugged as he answered, "Apparently when an angel heals you, you can see this awesome light."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, his hand hovering near his mouth with another forkful of food. "Awesome light, huh?"

Sam grinned, remembering it. "Really awesome."

"So what was the problem with that?" Dean asked. "He didn't think I could do it or something?"

Sam shook his head, slicing off another hunk of enchilada. "I guess he didn't think I would be able to see it."

"Huh?" Dean grunted around his food. "Why?"

Sam shrugged again. "No idea," he said as he lifted his plastic fork to his mouth.

Dean's chewing was loud in the otherwise quiet house. His brother's container quickly emptied of food. After Dean licked it clean and stuffed the Styrofoam into the carry out bag, his brother began to pace slowly. "He knows something," Dean declared after some time.

Sam stared down at his half eaten meal, feeling nauseous. He held it up to his brother, intending to stretch out and rest his screaming head. Dean paused as he took the container, staring down into Sam's eyes. He imagined a different kind of glow there, not the annoyed one but puzzled and compassionate. "We'll figure it out, Sammy."

Sam stretched out on the mattress, trusting whatever Dean had planned. Now that was a weird feeling, trusting Dean's plan, but it felt right as Sam closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him. The darkness welcomed him back, as it did every night, but this night it did not feel quite right.

Dean watched his brother fall asleep. He would not worry about Sam's lack of appetite unless it continued tomorrow, he decided.

So Mike didn't think Sam would see this healing light, huh? Now why would that be? Could it be because he didn't think Dean could do it? He pondered on that for a moment, but as tempting as it was to find another reason to despise Mike it did not seem to fit. Okay, if he assumed it was not because of him but because of Sam, what would it be?

With a heavy sigh, Dean decided to make use of Sam's most annoying habit. He needed to make a freaking list. Sam's legal pad rested on the floor with the rest of their stuff from the car. With a deep frown, Dean picked it up and Sam's pen. He flipped past Sam's heavily scrawled pages to a blank sheet.

Trying to come up with a list of Sam-events that might explain this was harder than he thought it would be. As Sam breathed lightly on the mattress next to him, Dean worked by lamplight on the floor. After an hour he still drew a blank, nothing on his page except some circular doodles in the corners. How did Dad and Sam do this? Dean flipped through some of Sam's pages, reading over his brother's notes about the empty building where teenagers kept dying. It was no help. He hesitated before turning to Sam's notes on him and this thing with Michael. For some strange reason, Dean did not want to read through Sam's clinical listing of his new habits.

Turning back to his blank page, Dean stared at it for several minutes. Reluctantly, he realized he was getting nowhere on his own. He flipped back to the first page of the pad, the first page of the Dean Notes. Dean held his breath as he began to read, expecting an obnoxious list. It began innocently enough, with a listing of his emerging abilities. However, as he read on Dean realized Sam was not just listing things, he was reading his brother's observations of him. That was a little unnerving, especially when he got to the 'compassionate' and 'morale officer' parts.

Taking a lesson from his little brother, Dean turned back to his doodled page. With a deep breath he started with a list of Sam's abilities, starting from the death visions and ending with that damned empathy. The first list complete, Dean stole a glance at his brother. Sam still slept soundly. Chewing his lower lip, he moved on to make a few of his own observations. Dean debated on whether or not to include what Mike said, about 'considering who and what' Sam was, but he did. Dean also had no intention of Sam ever seeing this list; he planned to rip it out to keep in his pocket. He had no idea how late he worked, only that the letters began to blur on the page and at some point he really needed to rest his eyes.