A/N – Apologies for my absence. I've learned my lesson about starting two stories at once.
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Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse. – The River, Bruce Springsteen
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"I have nothing to offer."
Sam jolted to a stop. He thought he must have misheard the quietly spoken words from the angel whose back was half-turned into the leather bound book shelves.
"Castiel can aid you better than I."
Dean had gone to open the garage passageway for Castiel's pimpmobile. Sam was on his way to welcome their old ally, detouring to check if Gadreel would like to come with or wait in the library. He blinked at the self-depreciating statement then did a double take when he realized that Gadreel had re-dressed in the brown tee, hoodie and jeans from when Sam found him in Lincoln.
"Thank you for your kindness, Sam. I will never forget it."
"Wait. Hold up!" Sam raised his palm. "Am I hearing sayonara?"
Gadreel swallowed hard but remained silent and statue-like.
"What about earlier … in the store room?" Sam endeavored to understand. He thought they had made a connection. He had felt that something had opened between them. Confidences had been shared. A private person by nature, Sam had let Gadreel see inside. There had been gentle affection, tentative and new. Some seed glimmered. If Sam zeroed in on it might be a mutual attraction.
"I do not wish to be a burden," Gadreel could not meet Sam's eye. "I cannot hinder or delay your honorable quest to find a cure for your brother."
"That's fucking bullcrap." Sam shot. From edging closer to each other, now Gadreel wanted to run for the hills.
Gadreel's head lifted in surprise at Sam's expletive.
"You're not and you aren't. Why are you saying this shit?" Sam surged forward, grabbing Gadreel's biceps and searching into darkened green eyes.
Had he scared Gadreel? Had confessing his lost love for Abner exposed the angel too much? Was he afraid Sam would hurt him? Or that he would hurt Sam? The hunter sought answers without asking the questions. He huffed, slackening his punishing grip by a fraction. "I get that you think you're damaged. Hell, maybe you think you're unfixable, but look at me, I'm held together by duct tape and safety pins inside."
Gadreel observed Sam's grasping hands as if they were alien tentacles without withdrawing or resisting the touch.
"You are not." He finally looked directly into Sam's pleading eyes. "I healed you."
"Not talkin' 'bout in here," Sam demonstrated by releasing an arm to sweep over his torso. He tapped his temple. "In here."
"Sam," Gadreel expelled his breath as a prayer.
"No, Gadreel. You know a helluva lot. More than anyone 'cept Lucifer. But you don't know what the last few months have done to me, what I've endured, what I've done, clawing and digging through dark demonic crap to find Dean, to see him become his worst nightmare, to try and hold it together without him. Cas was on the end of a phone, others too, but I fought that battle and another one in my grapefruit. I hadta be the stronger brother, the Rock in our family. Keep on fighting for Dean, all the time knowing I'm flawed and will never measure up."
A crack of fire struck his cheek. He covered his reddened skin in shock.
"You slapped me." Sam's jaw dropped.
"You will not speak of yourself in those terms." Gadreel demanded. "I will not listen to you say such defiling words. You are more special and inspiring than you know."
Sam snorted.
"Stop." Gadreel's nostrils flared. "Sam please."
"Don't go." Sam blew a puff of air.
"I have nothing to give."
"You can stay. Be here."
"For you?" Gadreel asked tentatively.
Sam couldn't bring himself to ask, but having someone in his corner while he fought was something he craved. He nodded.
"I will stay. You can tell me anything, good or bad, dark or light." Gadreel promised.
"I know." Sam responded, feeling the verity of that promise.
He reached. Gadreel caught his hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing.
Sam nodded, running through a combination of relief and comfort. Gadreel was solid, committed and steady, Sam wanted to lean his head on his shoulder but if he did that, Dean would call him a sap until doomsday.
Dean and Castiel's voices preceded the pair. Gadreel made to pull away, to put acceptable space between them, but Sam kept hold of his hand. There were too many secrets, too much hidden over the years. Although he could not name this budding connection between he and Gadreel, Sam was not going to sneak around corners or shade this part of his life from Dean or Castiel's views.
"Freaking…." Dean managed to blurt before his jaw dropped.
Sam glared, challenging Dean to protest, part of him wanting to get any Dean-rant over and done, rather than be on tenterhooks for a blindsiding backlash.
Castiel placed an open palm over the buttons of Dean's shirt, stalling him. Amazingly Dean accepted Castiel's advance without a word.
"Hello Sam," Castiel tilted his head a fraction in greeting. "Gadreel, it is good to see you."
"Hello brother." Gadreel spoke with guarded pleasure.
Castiel surprised both his angelic sibling and Sam by wrapping his arms around the taller angel and administering a back clapping hug. Gadreel's eyes beseeched Sam for help, posture stiff as a board. He let go of Sam's hand and seemed not to know what to do with his limbs.
Sam jerked his head and made wide eyes at Castiel's shoulders. Gadreel made an 'a-ha' face before patting Castiel's suit jacket sleeves in response.
"Geez, Cas," Dean sniggered, "'s like now-you hugging stick-in-ass-you."
"I never had a stick in my ass." Castiel responded as he released his hold, his lips twitching slightly, betraying that he had comprehended Dean's brand of humor.
"This human custom," Gadreel enquired, "of hugging, I do not believe I understand the full range and meaning of its practical application."
"Ask Sam," Dean chortled, "He'll teach ya."
Sam's chest filled. There might be jabs and concerned words later, but it felt good that Dean trusted his judgment enough not to explode.
"So, what's the word, Cas?" Sam asked, reaching to pat their friend's shoulder.
"I may have a lead."
"On the Mark," Sam leaped to conclusions.
"Hey," Dean raised both palms. "before we all spend the next million freaking hours in research mode, food, beer, food, OK?"
"OK, Jerk." Sam grinned. "We all know about your bottomless stomach."
Dean patted his belly, "Damn right, Bitch."
Glee at being able to horse round with his brother was tainted slightly when Sam noticed Dean scratching his sleeve as he jaunted off to the kitchen.
"It troubles him." Castiel surmised.
"It needs to be fed." Sam huffed grimly.
Gadreel's arm spanned Sam's shoulders. "Dean excels at minimizing his struggles."
With a rueful grimace at the truth in his angel's words, Sam led the way to the library tables. Gadreel took the chair beside Sam. Castiel sat opposite reviewing some of the Enochian tracts they had rooted out.
"Strike lucky?" Dean asked a lack of hope born of hitting dead ends over and over. He placed a tray with three homemade bacon cheese burgers between their papers. Nabbing the only salad free one, he added to Castiel, "You sure you don't wanna patty? I got sub rolls and that weird hummus crap if you want something way out?"
"No, thank you," Castiel looked up with a twinkle in his eye, "I don't eat anymore, but I appreciate the offer."
"Whatever floats your boat, Man." Dean bumped Castiel's arm.
"Hopeless," Sam commented under his breath at the other couple's mutual chemistry. He muttered, "And that's our hummus Dean's trying to gift."
Gadreel nodded before taking a jaw spanning chomp of his meal.
"You're eating," Castiel blinked across the table, "Is there a problem with your grace?"
"No, Brother." Gadreel replied once he had swallowed his massive bite. "Sam has guided me through many flavors and combinations of foods. It has been an educational and pleasurable journey. And I like to consume what Sam enjoys."
"Don't you perceive these burgers at an atomic level?" Castiel asked with a disgusted nose crinkle.
"Yes. I do. And it is fascinating." Gadreel responded.
"It's not the same as tasting food as human." Castiel stated with a touch of envy.
"I would not know this. I have never been human."
"Right." Dean slammed his beer bottle onto the table. "You two can start your own Angel Recipe Review show on The Food Network later."
Sam snorted into his beer bottle as both angels readied to protest they had no intentions of making a show before realizing Dean was teasing.
"So what's the bead on this thing on my arm?"
"There may not be a 'bead'," Castiel replied cautiously, "You remember Hannah and I had been convincing rogue angels to return to heaven? I have a lead on an elder brother who has no wish to return."
Gadreel gulped, "Can he not be left in peace, Castiel?"
Castiel inclined his head, "We have been persuading many who fled the conflict between Bartholomew and Malachi to return. In this case, I believe our target may have information that could be useful."
"I will not be persuaded to go back." Gadreel snapped. "There are those who would not understand, many who would not forgive…"
"No one is making you go anywhere." Sam affirmed. "Right, Cas?"
"Yes, yes, Sam." Castiel appeared slightly flustered. "I did not come here to take Gadreel home."
"He is home." Sam dug his fingers into Gadreel's thigh, holding him there. Gadreel's hand covered his.
"There is nowhere but here." Gadreel met Sam's eyes, imparting the bonus extra that 'here' meant by Sam's side.
Dean's eyebrows rose.
"You're welcome." Sam managed to say through being slightly overwhelmed.
"Thank you, Sam." Gadreel's voice was soft and low.
Meeting gazes, they shared small almost shy smiles.
Castiel cleared his throat. "This angel is one of the first seraphim. He has hidden his abode with sigils but there are rumors of sightings."
"And he knows about the Mark?" Dean leaned forward.
"There is no guarantee but Ithuriel was there in the beginning. He famously tackled Lucifer with his spear and helped Michael cast Lucifer into the pit."
"Impressive." Dean hummed.
"He was in the garden." Gadreel shuddered. "He led the charge to the tree while Sariel and Raguel dragged me from the gate."
Sam gulped. Gadreel's eyes had gone vacant then glowed blue as if he was trying to distribute healing power to his own mind. Tightening his hold on Gadreel's thigh, Sam licked his lips. "Hey, hey Gadreel. You're here now, with me. We're in the library with Cas and Dean." Sam threw a look for help over to Castiel who nodded for Sam to continue. "You're not back there. You got out remember?"
"Sam." The angel's shoulders sagged. "I remember. I am cursed to remember too much."
"You wanna bail?" Sam suggested kindly. "I won't think any less of you if you wanna head down to my room and throw on a boxset."
Gadreel paused a moment, reflecting on the get out of jail card. "No. I will remain."
"Where is this itching-urinal?" Dean asked.
"Ithuriel," Castiel did not rise to Dean's toilet humor. "is occupying a vessel in Nevada. He has made it very clear that he does not want to be contacted."
"But we're going to contact him." Sam stated redundantly.
"Yes, we are." Castiel confirmed. "I would hope that Ithuriel might impart his knowledge, but the way he has secreted his location means it's possible that he is resistant to any other angels."
"He's a grumpy old bastard then?" Dean huffed.
"After our Father left, Michael…" Castiel sighed, "Let's just say, many of our older siblings assumed new roles. Ithuriel left his garrison to become a trainer of warriors."
"He train you, Cas? Is he your Mr Miyagi?" Dean asked as he open mouthedly chewed his burger.
"I was already assigned to my garrison but we received brothers and sisters prepped by Ithuriel." Castiel set his face. "He was a hard taskmaster. More recently he was a Raphael supporter but took refuge in Heaven's far reaches during the chaos that followed."
"If he was on Rafe's side," Dean's brow knitted in concern. "He's not gonna roll out the red carpet for you, Cas."
Castiel pinched his brow. He sighed, dropping his fingers in preparation for air quotes. "Since Metatron there has been 'water under the bridge'. We can hope he doesn't hold grudges."
"I get this guy is old as everything," Sam pointed out, "But how do we get him to spill anything he knows about Cain and the Mark?"
"I will appeal to his righteous reputation," Castiel replied with a steely gaze, "And if that fails, I will offer to intercede on his behalf to keep Heaven from his chosen home on Earth, and if that fails, I suggest we bring holy oil and our angel blades."
"I do not wish to be involved in torture. I will not torture. Oiled blades will not extract Ithuriel's secrets." Gadreel's jaw stiffened in a stony resolved face.
"No." Castiel agreed. "But the prospect of being confined indefinitely in an ever-burning circle works amazingly well."
"Taking on this dude sounds more dangerous than entry level angel face offs." Dean mused. "We might need a plan B, and a freaking plan C."
"If his place is warded, that puts me and Dean up to the plate." Sam added.
"Until we get inside and we can graffiti over his finger-paints." Dean continued.
"It would be prudent to add the banishing sigil." Gadreel volunteered.
Castiel made a hissing wince, "But as a last resort because if deployed we may not be able to locate Ithuriel again."
"I'd like to dig into the Men of Letters lore on him. Not dissing your knowledge of this guy, Cas, but you never know what nuggets are within the bunker walls." Sam tapped his finger on the table, adding, "Or online, y'know."
"We shouldn't delay for long," Castiel considered, "If Ithuriel moves…"
"Right on, Cas." Dean supported.
Sam huffed, "I'm not talking about writing a freaking thesis on him. Give me and Gadreel a day to check it out."
"We will all assist with research." Castiel nodded.
"Assist with freaking research," Dean grumbled under his breath, "Starts with action plans ends with noses buried in books. I'm getting another round and this time Cas, you're having one, even if you just hold the frigging bottle in your hand."
"Yes, Dean." The angel ducked his head in surrender to a grumpy Dean.
Gadreel's eyes widened. Sam shook his head, knowing his brother would feel better after venting his frustration.
"I will clear our plates." Gadreel volunteered, beginning to gather their leavings before Sam could stop him.
Left briefly alone, Castiel and Sam fell into companionable silence. The reverent stillness that naturally existed within the bunker's thick walls settled effortlessly in Sam's soul. The hush of knowledge through cavernous spaces reflected on generations of lore, at least until Dean laid a needle on the gramophone or they downloaded a show to watch feet propped on the map of the war room table.
"Penny for them?" Castiel asked.
Sam donned a smile rather than sharing his philosophical musings on time, knowledge and silence. He deflected, "How are you, Cas?"
"Not sick," Castiel answered plainly. "This grace sustains me, presently."
"That's good, right?" Sam drew his brows tight, "Plenty of gas in the tank?"
"I am being judicious. The reserves are not unlimited." Castiel intoned, "But currently it is not an issue."
"I get it." Sam nodded in understanding. "When all of this, with Dean, is solved we'll find your grace."
Castiel did not respond immediately. He appeared to ponder on Sam's optimistic resolution to the Mark and the promise of future aid.
"Dean seems more positive than I expected."
"He acts well." Sam huffed, "But it's taking its toll. Every dead end, every reminder… I see him scratching at it, and then he sees me seeing him and his hand flies away as if burned. Dean's freaking ace at putting on a brave face."
Castiel nodded in agreement. "And you, Sam?"
"I'm good." The hunter half-smiled. "I'm here for Dean."
"And Gadreel?"
Sam huffed with a shrug, "I guess I'm here for Gadreel too."
"I am not good at 'emotions' and 'relationships'." Castiel began.
Sam shook with a repressed snigger. "Air quotes not needed, Cas."
"I meant," Castiel tried again.
"You want to know what the story is with me and Gadreel." Sam rescued the floundering angel. "He is here and I want him here."
"Your feelings have changed." Castiel commented.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want him to go. I want to get to know him better, and he understands."
"You do not fear him."
"No. I don't, Cas." Sam quirked his lips. "A sea change, I guess. I don't fear Gadreel. If anything I fear for him. He worries that his sacrifice is not enough to clean the slate, that he will meet anger and violence from his own kind."
"I cannot reassure you, Sam." Castiel replied. "However I can say that I have met such and survived."
Sam sucked his bottom lip. Thing was that he was not sure that after eternities of torture, Gadreel's inner strength matched Castiel. "He was a figure of hate for so long. Part of the reason he took refuge after the fall was his need to hide away. Now we are going to face an angel who knew him before…"
"You do not need to worry about me." Gadreel came behind, resting his palm, finger touching the skin above Sam's collar, "I will be proud to accompany you. We will travel together."
Taking in the warm weight on his shoulder, Sam let tension seep out of his body. Impressed by such courage, he twisted his neck to seek Gadreel's gaze. "Together. We'll stand up to this Ithuriel dick together."
Gadreel's soft "Thank you." was almost inaudible but Sam heard, and it laid another gossamer layer of affinity between them.