Second chapter in as many days. The previous one was mostly written before the mid season premiere aired. This story is canon divergent but I wanted to see episode ten before I posted to ensure that I hadn't taken a wildly different path to the show at this point. The Mark of Cain, and how it impacts Sam, plays a part in this story because that is where our beloved hunters are focused, but this tale is ultimately more about the characters than the MOC quest. Thank you to those reading. I hope you have been and will continue to enjoy.
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"Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart." Wake me up, Avicii
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Gadreel adapted to the routine of life in the bunker with an ease that evoked a quiet gladness in Sam. Over the days that followed their TV 'day off' in Sam's bedroom, their time concentrated in the library. Sam and Dean kept an eye on their regular web newsfeeds for any likely hunts but nothing pinged their radar. Continuous research was some special sort of torture according to Dean, who disappeared for long stretch breaks or to check his car, assisted by his new argument that they had an extra mind filtering through the MOL files now. It could have been discouraging that they continued to draw blanks on anything to do with the Mark, and that any references to Cain and Abel were biblical and Gnostic standard fare. Their only slightly viable plan was Dean's tenuous 'find Cain and gank the bastard' one. Sam was sure that if Cain was no longer in Missouri they could enlist Crowley to locate him. Finding out if killing Cain was as simple as gutting him with the First Blade was whole other kettle of piranha fish. Also it was possible that offing the original Knight would make things worse. For all they knew that act could bump Dean up the Knight pecking order. Sinking into a reading chair with a long neck beer, trashy lawyer fiction book to pick pre-law knowledge holes in, while Gadreel in the high winged chair opposite leafed though his choice from Sam's old storage boxes of sci-fi fantasy favorites, was a perfect way to end long days of heavy duty research. There was no need for conversation except the occasional welcome question to clarify that yes hobbits had hairy feet or that humans had not invented robotic babelfish yet.
On the morning when distant muffled sounds of gunshot came from the target range, Sam could not repress a buoyant mood that had him dragging Gadreel outside to join him on his daily hike. That tiny sign that Dean was holding on, building his resistance to the Mark, was a crumb of hope.
On their return Sam headed straight for the kitchen for rehydration. Juicing their oranges with a few overripe veggies, Sam watched Gadreel slicing through a couple of hardening lemons that had been at the back of the refrigerator.
"You think you could peel that nub of ginger root too?" Sam asked.
Gadreel quirked his lips as a pleased affirmative and turned to grab the ginger revealing that his running gear looked like he had yet to leave the building. Sam, on the other hand, had sweat beads clinging to the ends of his hair and both sides of his top bore a long vee of perspiration.
"How come I look like one of those poor wretches who collapse in the Olympic stadium on the last lap of the marathon and you look like a model for American Track and Field?" Sam good naturedly grumbled as he reached for shaker pint glasses.
"You do not." Gadreel firmly contradicted. "I found joining you for the human experience of stretching my muscles in the bracing air agreeably novel and one I would wish to repeat."
"Yeah?" Sam nodded slowly. "Well, that's good, I think. I run most days if wanna come."
Invigorating juices consumed, Gadreel volunteered to clean up while Sam showered. Initially Sam had protested to their guest mucking in, while Dean had made some smart alec comment about Grace use and Mary Poppins. Gadreel neither rose to Dean's bait nor permitted Sam to treat him with kid gloves. He took chores that needed to be done and could been seen mopping the floor just as often as one of the brothers. He had yet to venture into food preparation, or take out retrieval. With a self-mocking huff at his ability to burn water, Sam thought of how he was hardly the one to show more than juice or salad prep to the angel. Still it was gratifying how Gadreel was prepared to try any food that Sam placed in front of him.
With things ticking along easily, Sam was blindsided when Dean shoved him into an empty bedroom on his way back from his blissfully hot long shower.
"What the hell?" Sam spurted, grabbing at his towel, and losing his bundle of clothes to the dusty floor.
"Why is he wearing your clothes?"
It took a moment for Sam's brain to catch up. "Gadreel?"
"No. Pope freaking Francis."
"We went for a run. We wear the same size. What business is it of yours?" Sam bristled.
"And what's with the eating? Why are you bringing him sandwiches? Are we grocery shopping for three now?"
"What is your problem? You can't seriously be freaking out about slices of bread, lettuce and shredded turkey?" Sam tried to bore holes through his brother's thick skull. He hated that they were in the situation where he fretted about the motivation behind this surprise intervention. Was Dean being contrary or was he getting riled up to lose his temper?
"Why is he aping being human? He's not. Isn't there angel crap he could be doing? How long is he going to hang around drinking our beer and washing our socks?" Dean asked with indignation.
With a light bulb moment dawning, Sam laughed. "He's not washing socks. You are being ridiculous."
"Sam…"
"I get it." Sam raised his palm. "No, honestly Dean, I do get it. This is about Cas."
Dean squawked.
"Why don't you call him, Dean?"
"He is doing his own thing. He's busy." Dean muttered. "I'm not dragging him here for nothing."
It would be pointless to say to his emotionally repressed brother that missing Cas and wanting to see him was not nothing. Having Gadreel there must have rubbed salt into the wound that sometimes Sam had glimpsed. Dean liked to keep his family close, but Castiel kept leaving. There were valid, sometimes end of the world reasons for Castiel's departures. Having one angel be satisfied to remain at MOL HQ must have been grating on Dean. On top of that, their conversation a few days earlier had dragged out of Dean's buried painful memory box the events of when newly human Cas had been turned away.
"How about a council of war?" Sam suggested.
"A what now?" Dean squinted suspiciously.
"Gadreel was around at the Beginning, like maybe as long as Metatron. Cas' garrison must have seen so much. We've got our lore here, including Bobby's library which I haven't fully catalogued yet. Ask him to brainstorm with us?" Sam shivered under his towel. "I'm gonna put on clothes. I'll text him if you want."
"No," Dean's voice lifted. "I'll text him."
Dean barreled out the door and headed for his room.
"You just want emoticons." Sam shouted after him.
Dean raised one finger high above his head.
Later Dean expressed his happiness at Castiel's acceptance by making patties for burgers from scratch, blithely ignoring Sam's questions about the contents of their text messages, and plopping his dirty boots on the library table to knock back his beer. With Dean content, Sam pulled Gadreel aside to fill him in on his idea.
"When Cas gets here, I thought we could combine our knowledge, bounce ideas around, and come up with some new lines of enquiry about the Mark." Sam gestured with his hands.
"You want my assistance in this?" Gadreel looked puzzled.
"Man, you have been assisting. This time we are going to brainstorm. You never know what lateral thinking will spark or what memories could be helpful." Sam tapped at his own head.
Gadreel flinched. "I would not have any relevant memories."
In concern, Sam laid his palm on the angel's forearm. "The Mark is an ancient curse. Maybe there is something from those times…"
"I don't remember." The words were stilted, forced out.
Gadreel was lying to him. Sam was sure. "It may only be something small, by questioning each other…"
"I was gone. The events with Cain, they happened after. I had no involvement. You are bringing Castiel here to interrogate me." Gadreel accused rapid fire. His hands clenched to fists but his action was not due to anger. Sam recognized fear.
"I'm not. Honestly, Gadreel, no one is interrogating anyone. Believe me." Sam beseeched.
Green eyes met his and set there.
"You aren't reading my mind, are you?" Sam froze. He could not, would not allow such a violation. If the angel had crossed that line in his fear, then the slowly building trust between them was about to crumble to the ground.
"I do not need to enter your mind to know you are genuine, Sam." Gadreel sagged. "I have frightened you."
Sam shrugged it off. "And I have given you the impression that you are not safe here. The wrong impression."
"If I did have knowledge that would help, I would share it. You would not need to set Castiel or Dean to work on me. Not need to subject me to…"
The angel stopped. His face paled. The vacancy in his eyes told that he was back there, in his Heavenly prison cell, reliving God knew what.
"You do not need to say it." Sam reached forward, steadying Gadreel's shoulder with his hand. He squeezed tight, pulling him back to the present. "I have memories I do not wish to revisit, but if there is some nugget lodged in my grapefruit I would drag it to the surface, because it is for Dean. I don't expect you to scrape through the unimaginable, but I am asking for your help."
Holding his breath, Sam's chest ached before Gadreel answered. It was a big ask. Getting his brother back had consumed Sam for months of a living nightmare. He had almost shattered when he had seen black eyes staring at him on a small store security feed. He had picked and gnawed at the fringes of his Cage memories, trying to force his mind to find any reference to Cain and Abel, the Fall of Man, the demonizing of Lilith, but all was consumed in fire and blood. There were other memories Sam shied away from, of battling against the exhilaration and completeness when he and Lucifer were one. They were unbearable because of the vast inexplicable sorrow that they evoked. His thoughts and the fallen archangel's had merged, but Lucifer's focus had not wandered back then. However it was possible that together he or one of the others would be able to bring to the surface something forgotten by any of them, just as when Dean would quip a movie quote and Sam could see a film that he had forgotten about play out in his mind.
Gadreel cleared his throat.
"I will offer what I can, Sam, but there are places I cannot go." The angel copied Sam's motion to cup the hunter's shoulder. "For you, I will hide nothing. You will have my truth, such as it is, but I plead for your understanding."
Overwhelmed, staggered by the weight of that plea, Sam nodded with feeling. He swallowed hard, meaning every word, "You've got it, and my support, Gadreel."