Notes:
There is something in this chapter that some of you may not like, I'm not a big fan of that troupe either, but it had to be done for what I intend to do with this story. So please, bear with me. Thank you and hope you lovies like this chapter :D
Or you know, tolerate it O_O
Chapter Two
The thing about angels is that you can't summon one unless you have a name. And summoning one with an incomplete name is a death wish since the call's routed to angel radio with everyone possibly tuning in. So for self-preservation, especially if you're a Winchester, better not tempt it. But Sam has a name and a grudge for anything that represents Tuesday, not to mention that his brother is a Knight of Hell, and only an archangel should have enough juice to at least restrain one. Sam's given up in trying to 'talk' to his brother into fixing things. Sam's going to drag him back to the bunker kicking and screaming even if it's the last thing he did. Thus, archangel grace is needed.
Sure he's got the wards and the sigils and the hex bags to his advantage, but that will only be of help to an extent, until his brother realizes it's Sam in the preteen get-up. And Dean's not stupid enough to fall for the demonic handcuffs the second time.
Castiel himself admits that even if he had his rightful grace intact, he wouldn't be strong enough to contain a full powered Knight of Hell, especially one that is now considered a replacement for Cain. And with Cas' current condition, he's not going to be of any help.
Hannah and Castiel have an understanding about not wasting Castiel's recent stolen grace, which means no angelic whammy.
Whatever. Sam can do this by himself.
In the five days following Sam's epiphany about angelic graces and what use it can be to him, he's stacked up on reading material of what he can find on archangels instead. After a substantial amount of words were read on said angels, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Uriel, Raphael and a bunch of others he's never even heard of, Sam's focus zeroes in on the Archangel Samael.
It sounds like Samael and Lucifer are one. A good number of passages seem to point to that direction, too many similarities to be coincidence. It was only after Castiel found him poring through the books yet again, coupled with a tired, resigned sigh, I strongly advise against this course of action, my thoughts are not a secret to you in this matter, Sam did it become clear to the younger Winchester.
According to Cas, he's had run ins with Samael before, and that the archangel is very likely still alive. Cas didn't know the angel from Michael back when he was still solely an Angel of Thursday, but when Castiel had been in his campaign for power against Raphael, it was found out that Samael had deserted his post and his duties as the "Bringer of Death and Destruction" long before the Apocalypse was put in motion.
One of the reasons why everything went down to shit, the pages in the holy scriptures all but burning was because he wasn't there to watch over the End of Days and make sure it ended the way it should as instructed by the Word of God. Cas had searched for him, asking for help in his fight against Raphael's forces, but Samael flat out refused and told him in no exact words to, "Leave me the fuck out of it."
It would seem being the "Venom of God" and carrying out Father's less favorable orders, The Flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, The Plagues of Egypt, the Holocaust to name a few, Samael knew early on when their Father bailed on them. After millennia upon millennia of being a loyal son, even taking up the mantle of the "bad guy", put in the same league as his brother Lucifer solely because of the nature of the duty he was given, all he got for his trouble was an absent Father and a buttload of hate and negative association to his name.
In his disappointment and anger, Samael left Heaven while everybody else was still oblivious of a Godless world.
He is alike to Gabriel in that sense. Leaving the family drama.
Sam has half a mind to think Gabriel put him on a time loop on a Tuesday because his brother represented the day and gets to laugh at the irony. Samael was probably aware what his younger brother had been up to. The fucker probably even found it funny.
Even without the need for angelic grace, Sam can easily imagine wanting to find the angel and gank it on principle.
With the last symbol on the angelic trap drawn, Sam begins the incantation to summon the Archangel Samael. Halfway through the chant he is reminded of the times when he and Dean managed to outsmart and trap Gabriel, Raphael, even Cas when they were being absolute dicks. Sam needs to stop looking over beside him and expect to see his brother's self-satisfied smirk and that proud smile focused on Sam. He doesn't need the distraction of these memories now of all times. It might as well be his death sentence.
Sam reels his focus back on the ritual at hand, words that would sound gibberish to anyone else almost reaching the last paragraph when the ground starts shaking and the abandoned warehouse's walls where he is in begin to rattle. Sam really fucking hates an archangel's dramatic entrance. He'll never admit it out loud, but his anxiety skyrockets every time from equal parts terror and rage.
"Well, this is a surprise. Here I was enjoying a night out in Vegas only to be rudely called by none other than Sam Winchester."
Sam's stomach bottoms out, blood running cold at the casual way his name leaves the man— angel's mouth. His hold on the angel blade in his hand turns into a white knuckled grip. Sam feels small. He's fucking five foot five, wrists looking so damn slender they look easy to snap.
He has every right to feel intimidated.
Hannah assured the wards are strong, that other than her and Castiel, no one should be able to tell it is him. What the fuck happened?
"Fancy stuff you got going on there dollface." Oh great, a British-Scottish sounding archangel. Another Balthazar. Just what he fucking needed.
"Don't call me that." Sam hisses, then promptly shuts up, looking stunned at his lack of tact.
The angel chuckles, before clapping it's hands, looking genuinely amused. "My, my, my. Testy, testy. I like it." It says, then winks lecherously.
Sam feels his mouth drop open the slightest at the angel's attitude. Is this douchebag seriously flirting with him? And what's with the get up? This guy, this vessel in front of Sam isn't exactly the type he imagined for someone like 'Samael Harbringer of Destruction and Death' to be possessing. For one, it wears too much pink. "Samael?" He feels the need to clarify.
Blue eyes, blonde hair, lips that appear to be perpetually pouting replies. "One of my many names. But you can call me Cam if you want. After all, Lucy's been inside you in every sense of the word. You're practically a brother-in-law." Sam tenses up so bad, pales despite himself. He does not want that reminder from his time spent in the Pit. Ever. The archangel looks around him, one eyebrow raised. "No holy oil?"
"I don't need one." Sam lets the satisfaction of seeing minute fear cross the angels' eyes wash over him. He's always prided himself in his ability to adjust to a situation, adapt with lightning reflexes. Growing up like he and Dean did, no one can bullshit their way through tough ass and impossible scenarios better than the Winchesters. Once again he feels grateful to Hannah for providing him the necessary knowledge on how to immobilize an angel in place with methods supposedly only privy to their kind. Holy oil involves too much fire for any close contact to be possible after all.
He tips the angel blade upward, in full view, then points said blade on the equivalent of a Devil's trap, but much, much powerful, currently entrapping the archangel. "All I need is just this, and that, and you staying still being all pretty."
There's growing anger in the archangel, the feel of it making the hairs on Sam's neck stand on end, palpable in the air. "Really now?"
"Yeah." Sam answers, allows a devilish smirk to spread the corners of his lips. Probably looks creepily disconcerting on an innocent young girl's face. But it doesn't stop Sam from grinning, too much white teeth from a shark-like smile. "Really."
"What do you want, Winchester?" Samael thunders, the ground quaking as suddenly furious eyes focus on Sam.
"Just you." Sam replies, the archangel's expression freezing in the throes of death as Sam slices through it's neck, swift, deadly precision, beautiful warm grace flowing out and into the vial he's holding on his other hand, tipped over the clean cut.
It's all very anticlimactic.
With the last bit of angelic grace contained, Sam lets himself release the breath he doesn't remember holding, the male vessel dropping dead by his feet. He looks down at pale blue-grayish eyes and tries to muster up feelings of remorse, but can't find none.
"Well, that was easy." Sam says, turns around, takes four steps forward and that's when the shots ring out.
One. Two. Three.
Shoulder, stomach, chest.
Sam sucks in a painful gasp of air, frozen, shocked. The pain is so blinding, so excruciating, he drops the angel blade, the vial shattering to the floor from nerveless fingers. Angelic grace swirls like a tempest directly in front of his bleeding form as Sam falls to his knees.
The younger Winchester only has a second to look up at his attacker before white light explodes and consumes his world.
Fucking Cole.
There's pain. Too reminiscent of his time spent on the Pit, of Lucifer taking his sweet time in tearing Sam apart piece by agonizing piece, while Michael watches with sadistic glee, as Adam's screams for them to stop add to the blood pounding and trickling from his ears, from his own screams, of gross sobbing and pleadings of no more and never getting any reprieve. Lucifer's concentrated anger doesn't waver.
Unlike the Cage, the pain comes and goes. It's the one thing Sam holds on to. That this is not the Pit. That those days are long past gone.
One minute the anguish is too much, the next is a breath of relief. Sam doesn't understand what is happening. He cannot see. He can't open his eyes. He knows nothing. Can sense nothing. But there's something inside him that's hurting him. It wants to get out. It doesn't want Sam. It's wrong and too much and not his. But Sam knows he cannot afford to let it go. That letting it escape could very well mean his own life on the line. There's a desperation in him, realizes it's his own inner voice chanting, 'Don't give in. Just a bit more. It's going to be over soon.'
Can't die. Can't let it win. Can't allow this to be the end.
Can't fail Dean.
Dean.
Dean.
Dean.
He opens his eyes and feels warmth and light coil around his soul like acceptance, like family, like love.
Sam takes a sigh of relief and the world turns dark once more.
A/N: Umm. Ack, don't kill me! *hides behind Sam.* SO uhh, Sam's female form? I'm sure you all know who Mindy Mccready is in Kick-ass right? She's what I had in mind when I thought up of the disguise. So errr, comments? Violent reactions? Please be gentle.