Four Years and 364 Days later
Sam stuck the last piece of tape on the small package he was wrapping in paper decorated with dinosaurs, and passed it up to Mealla, who stood on tiptoes to place it on the highest shelf in their closet. Then she sat down cross-legged beside him and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.
"We should get some sleep," she whispered. "Big day tomorrow."
"Yeah," Sam replied. His smiled to cover the squirming nest of wormy guilt twisting inside his guts. He hadn't ever told Mealla about Gabriel's message. Secretly, he'd hoped the day would never come. But now it was almost upon him, and he still hadn't figured out what the angels wanted with his son, who had grown up as red-haired and spirited as his mother, and as intelligent and tall as his father. Unlike Sam, the kid had hit his growth spurt early, and was easily taller than everyone in his grade. Some kids made fun of him for it, but that didn't phase Aeden in the slightest, for which Sam was very proud.
Sam stifled a yawn, and watched Mealla climb into bed, knowing he wouldn't get a wink of sleep while he worried the night away, sitting upright outside Aeden's door, gun cradled in his lap, praying Gabriel would not return. At half past eleven, however, he did drop off, and did not wake until exactly midnight, when he heard a soft creak in the hallway, and hauled himself hastily to his feet.
Gabriel stood before him, looking exactly the same as ever, and grinned. "Hey, Sam!"
"Leave," said Sam firmly. "Now."
"I told you the sitch, Sam," said Gabriel apologetically. "You knew this day was coming. It's Jesus 2.0's time to shine."
"His name is Aeden," Sam corrected through clenched teeth. "And you're not touching him." He planted himself directly between Gabriel and the door.
"Ten years, man." Gabriel held out his hands in a placatory gesture. "That's better than your dad or brother ever got. And you'll get him back afterwards."
"After what!" cried Sam. "After you send my son to Hell?"
"No," said Gabriel incredulously. "Heavens no, we wouldn't do that. Trust me, he'll be just fine."
"What do you want from him?"
"Nothing he can't handle. Trust me, Sam." Gabriel flashed him a smile. "He'll be fine." He tried to push past Sam into Aeden's room, but Sam shoved him back. "Stay the hell away from my son," he snarled.
Gabriel sighed, "You ought to be more cooperative." And he vanished.
Sam whirled around and threw the door. Aeden's bed was empty. "NO!" he bellowed. "GABRIEL!"
oOo
Gabriel, you seem troubled.
Yes, Father. I don't think this is the right course of action.
Oh?
We've just rolled up a snowball and thrown it into a place hotter than Hell.
Aeden Winchester is no mere snowball.
He is a child, father.
He is the child. It is not your place to question destiny.
It's still wrong.
Would you prefer that the martyrs languished in Purgatory for eternity?
Oh, martyrs, is that what they are now?
They suffer for all mankind. But their sentence is at an end. Do not interfere with the course destiny has laid for them.
…Yes, Father.
oOo
Sharp branches whipped at Dean's face and arms as he ran, cutting them, but he paid the injuries no mind. The vicious growling from behind was getting closer. He could hear the monsters crashing through the foliage toward him. He was never going to make it.
"Dean." From out of nowhere a pair of strong hands gripped his arms and the dark trees vanished, replaced by a barren cliff overlooking an inky black ocean of angry frothing waves. Dean staggered and had to seize onto his savior to keep from falling to the sharp rocks below. As he steadied himself, he got a good look at the other's face.
"Cas," he breathed, barely audible over the howling wind. "I thought you'd gone." He worked to keep the horrible sinking betrayal out of his voice, which had plagued him all through the night even as he ran for his life.
"Never," said Cas. "I've been searching for you all night." Cas' sapphire eyes ran over Dean's battered body, and he pressed his hand to Dean's face, instantly healing the superficial wounds. Others, however, ran deeper. He could sense the piercing fear in his human, which was rapidly sapping away at his strength even as Dean suppressed it with more casual sarcasm.
"Awesome. So how the hell do we get out of here?"
"We can't," said Cas dejectedly.
"What do you mean, can't?" asked Dean.
"I mean the Leviathan were here for millennia, tearing at the edges with a billion times more strength than you or I possess, and were unable to escape. What hope do a human and an angel possibly have?"
"So, what," said Dean angrily, "we're stuck here struggling to survive? Forever? We barely made it through the night. Eternity?"
Cas pursed his lips, but was unable to give a response.
That night, they took refuge in a cramped, dank stone cave, curled close to each other against the biting chill, social norms forgotten. They didn't speak; even the rocks were listening, Cas had cautioned.
Cas' warmth against him was comforting. Despite everything, Dean felt safe for the first time in a long time. The feeling would not last…
Dean wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep or passed out from exhaustion, but far too early he was being shaken awake and Cas was whispering urgently, "Dean! Dean, they're coming. We have to go now. Come on."
Dean allowed himself to be dragged to his feet, and together he and Cas vanished, and reappeared in a dying cornfield, all dry brown and crushed stalks. Even for the winks of sleep he'd gotten, Dean felt inexplicably exhausted, as though a giant gloved hand was pressing down upon his shoulders. All of a sudden his knees buckled, and he and Cas collapsed together onto the dry, cracked dirt. The corn around them rippled evilly. Cas didn't even notice the tendril wrapping itself stealthily around his ankle until Dean slapped feebly at it. He was fading fast.
"Run!"
Once more they were off, stumbling and stomping new divides in the dead corn, our from which snaked more stalks, all intent upon snatching and binding them. Cas clenched Dean's shoulder as they ran, and in a flash they were running down a cracked pavement road. They came to a halt, panting.
As the adrenaline drained away, Dean felt his legs begin to tremble once more. He wouldn't be able to continue like this for much longer.
Seeming to sense without words, Cas wrapped a firm arm around Dean, and the human leaned gratefully into him, closing his hand around a fistful of the bloody material of Cas' coat.
"What are we gonna do, Cas?" he mumbled.
"We're going to survive."
Dean blinked. It was the first time he'd heard the angel tell an all out lie.
Dean had very scattered and fragmented memories of the next few days, or maybe it was weeks, all tinged with uniform fatigued desperation. Cas zapped them from place to place, with increasing regularity as more and more monsters were alerted to their presence.
He had always been strong. He had always been the unshakable Dean Winchester, scourge of nightmares and things that go bump in the night. He could not bear being so helpless. But he figured, in the privacy of his own mind, that if he had to be dependent upon anyone, he was glad it was Cas.
Still, the nights became colder, the respites became shorter, the escape zaps became less frequent. Cas' grace was running out, and Dean had been hovering on the edge of death for days.