A/N: This is very short, but I won't have much time this week, meaning if I don't post now it could be closer to two weeks before I would be able to post a normal length chapter. Therefore this is me putting what I have out there for your reading pleasure ;-)

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"You burn with the brightest flame." Hall of Fame, The Script feat Will. I. Am

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Sam's eyes zeroed in on the smirk playing across Crowley's smarmy face. He would have given his right arm to be able to wipe that smug grin off the demon's mug permanently, but instead he was giving himself a mental kicking that he hadn't paused to sketch a devil's trap on the ceiling or under the table. His urgency to find the ancient document that might help Dean had led him to bypass his normal methodical approach to hunting. He'd skipped daubing an emergency angel banishing sigil on the wall too, but at least he had his subconscious desire to keep Gadreel by his side to blame for that oversight.

The angel in question made a slight move forward, angel blade at the ready.

"Hold up." Crowley raised a palm. "No need to get our frilly knickers in a twist. Just hand over whatever it is you've taken and we can all be on our merry way."

"The Hell we will, Crowley." Sam spat, lodging his venom in words rather than attempting to lodge a blade in Crowley's chest, as he deliberately recalled that the first blade was in the King of Hell's keeping and the old jawbone might yet be vital in removing the Mark from his brother's arm.

Crowley body scanned Sam and Gadreel from their toes to the tops of their heads. "Excuse me, but did I or did I not, at great personal risk, kick that giant prick outta your noggin? Hey, Moose? And this is how you thank me? Coming to steal Hell's property?"

Sam donned his best fuck-you-face. He could sense Gadreel bristle beside him.

Secreted in Sam's left hand, fingers curled round, the Grace Stone warmed in pulses of Gadreel's ire and desire to protect.

"Lucifer is an archangel. Does that not make all this angelic property?" Gadreel pointed out, giving the room a sweeping glance.

"Take it to a tribunal," Crowley snapped back, "Or I'll call in the real life versions of those Hell Hound statues. Juliet gets hungry, y'know."

"You're not going to do that, Crowley." Sam said in his best persuade-them-by-being-full-of-conviction voice.

A tell tale side eye told Sam he was right, for now anyway. Crowley was too curious to jump straight to the endgame.

"So, fill me in, what did you come for? And don't tell me this is your idea of a good Saturday date-night? Rooting around in the dark in Lucy's leftovers? Didn't know you were so kinky, Moose?"

"Shuddup," Sam gritted his teeth.

Without warning Crowley flicked his wrist. Sam's chest tightened. He opened his lips to warn or tell his angel, but he couldn't breathe, couldn't get oxygen into his lungs. He wheezed desperately, everything whiting out.

"Stop." Gadreel commanded.

"No-one's gotta get hurt here," Crowley's reasonable voice was heavy with threat, "just hand over the goods and we'll all be on our way."

A deep blessed inhalation of air filled Sam's lungs. He luxuriated in another couple of beautiful breaths. Closing his eyes for only a moment he became aware that rather than dropping his prize, he had the Grace Stone in a death grip, and it was fired up, enraged with Gadreel's righteous anger. Their connection made Sam's lips tilt up.

"Something funny, Moose? Because I'm not laughin'. We can try my experiment in lung implosion again if you'd like?"

"No. You will not." Gadreel's voice boomed.

The Stone glowed enough that Crowley noticed Sam's rose-pink-light-bulb-for-a-hand, but he didn't have time to comment, because Gadreel straightened his spine and extended his wings in a show of power.

Sam bit his lip as Gadreel's eyes glowed intense ice-blue and huge ragged shadows unfurled to fill the crypt's walls from floor to ceiling. It was awe-inspiring. Shining righteous grace lit up the crypt's dark corners.

Sam chest tightened again but this time it was due to understanding that this display was in his honor and to shelter him from harm. He was a big boy, capable holding his own with Crowley, who he suspected wouldn't follow through with his murder by hell hound threat. But it was still a smidgeon flattering that Gadreel would do that for him.

Crowley took a pace back. He raised his open palms. "Yes, right, point taken. Moose, get your attack dog to stand down, would you?"

Crackling sparks of invisible grace tingled as the hunter bumped gently against Gadreel's shoulder. A feeling of falling soft cotton sheets enveloped his back and shoulders as silently the angel drew in his wings to resting, but not yet tucked away in the ether.

With a look of boredom, Crowley shook his head. A snide mumbled comment about douchey angel grace stones and knowing Sam was a girl. A snap of his fingers, and the King of Hell was gone.

Sam let out a whistling long breath, which transmuted into a soft chuckle.

Gadreel still glared at the spot from which the demon had vanished. Looking offended, he rolled his shoulders to hide his wings.

The affronted cast to his angel's features combined with the high of living another day made Sam's chuckle roll into being doubled over with laughter, holding the stone against his stomach, knees bent, blade tip trailing the floor.

"Sam?"

At the concerned tone, he looked up.

"I'm good. Better than good." Sam wheezed, getting his mirth under control.

Gadreel tucked his hand into the crook of the hunter's elbow, assisting him to rise.

"He thought we came for the stone," Sam explained. "That we broke in for the stone."

"Oh." Slow comprehension of the complete picture dawned on Gadreel and his lips twitched. Then wide and beautiful, with his eyes almost closed, a smile lit up his face.

Sam's cheeks almost cracked as his beam widened. He affirmed, "We're taking this as a win."

Slinging an arm over Gadreel's shoulders, Sam pulled him in for a head and shoulder bump.

"I concur," the angel said with gladness, "Come along, Sam, let's go home."

"Home," Sam nodded, a new gooey feeling settling at his core, at the thought that the bunker was his and Gadreel's home, along with a flitter of dragonfly wings that once they translated the Fabula Cain, there might be something to help Dean.

The Camry hit the road in spots as Sam pressed pedal to the metal to try to get to the Bunker in the fastest possible time and to beat Dean and Castiel home.

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