Chapter 9

-o0o-

I will be watching over you

I am gonna help you see it through

I will protect you in the night

"Silent Lucidity," Queensryche

When the world reappears again, Bobby's spare bedroom is gone and everything around Sam is white, empty, and endless. Gabriel stands in front of him, right hand slightly cupped and held out toward Sam, something glowing star bright in the cage of his fingers.

"What is it?" Sam asks. His voice seems to echo in this place that Gabriel's brought him; a place deep inside his own mind, his own soul.

"Grace," Gabriel says in that sonorous voice that Sam's not sure he'll ever get used to coming from a mouth that's built for wisecracking. "Light. Love. The fabric of the universe. A catalyst." Gabriel opens his fingers. The grace sits in his palm, shining like a star.

Sam blinks, thinks, maybe, it should burn being this close to something so bright, so pure. "A catalyst?" He raises his fingers to hover over Gabriel's palm. The grace pulses. Warm. Happy.

"There will be a moment, Sam. I don't know when. I don't know what it will involve. I don't know how long it will last. But there will be a moment, where his control will slip enough for you to take your body back. This will help you do that. And when it's all said and done, it will help me bring you back, Sam."

"Bring me back?"

Gabriel looks at Sam, surprised, even though he shouldn't be. Sam has never even thought of being brought back. It never crossed his mind. Even here, in this place that would make other humans think of impossible things made possible, Sam Winchester is determinedly focused what he needs to do to make amends, to right the wrong steps he's taken, to save the world.

It makes Gabriel want to weep.

"Hell's a big place, Sam. A celestial compass isn't unwarranted. And the Cage, well, it likes to hold on to whatever's inside of it. And the easiest way to get you out of the Cage is to have a piece of you that's yearning to be reconnected with its whole. Now," Gabriel says, raising his hand, "swallow it."

"What?"

"I know. Not exactly the context I thought I'd first say those words to you, either."

Sam feels his face heat and he sputters.

"We have to hide it deep, Sam. Tuck it away so he can't sense it, as deep inside you as it can go. And if he does happen across it, hopefully it'll be so buried he'll think it's just another piece of himself, a sign of his full possession."

Gabriel raises his hand to Sam's mouth and Sam takes a deep breath, presses his lips to Gabriel's palm, scent of lightning and chocolate washing over his senses, and takes the star into himself.

And that's it burning now, Sam thinks, as light glints off the old army man stuck in the Impala's ashtray years ago. The one Dean took the blame for when Dad found it. He sees them now, two kids in the back seat, squabbling over who gets to ride shotgun, grown men fighting over music. Dean bursting into his apartment in Stanford, carrying him out of the fire for the second time in his life, even as Sam fought to run back in. Long nights camped out in bucket seats. The smell of engine oil and fast food. Dean bargaining for him, dying for him. Dean choosing him.

Warmth floods his body and Sam can hear a voice, Gabriel's voice, whispering to him. You are strong. You are loved. You can kick my brother's ass.

And Sam chooses.

He gasps, stutters forward as Dean slumps against the car. In the air, he can feel the electricity of a coming storm, feel the wind on his face, the blood sticky on his hands, the pain of the split knuckles, the fluttering presence of the archangel beating inside his mind.

"I've got him, Dean. I've got him." Sam stumbles back, watches Dean's bloodied and broken face looking up at him, eyes wide and in pain and still…still not wanting Sam to go.

He feels Lucifer inside him, the hot bile of pure panic, not Sam's own, rising in his throat. He almost feels sorry for what he has to do. He's not even sure the Devil deserves to be locked away in some black place for eons.

But, at least this time, he'll have company.

Sam grasps the key in his jacket pocket, throws it to the earth and watches the ground split open with a roar and a rush of wind.

"Sammy," Dean says, barely a whisper.

Sam looks over his shoulder one last time. "It's okay, Dean. I got him."

Then he turns around and jumps.

-o0o-

All's quiet in Stull when Gabriel arrives. The air is heavy and still and even the early evening birds are silent. The Impala hulks on the hillside, settled low on its tires, keeping watch on two brothers. One lays face down on the ground, unmoving. The other kneels beside him, head bowed, face bloody and twisted in grief.

Dean looks up as Gabriel draws near, Isis at his elbow. She gently lays a deeply asleep Adam in the grass.

A rush of wind whips around them, a change in the air pressure making Dean wince while even Gabriel shakes his head as his ears pop. Then Castiel and Bobby stand before them, whole and unmarred.

Dean's eyes widen.

"About time, you old Mesopotamian goat," Isis mutters.

"Bobby. Cas." Dean's voice is roughened from the fingers that have gripped his throat, thickened with blood and sorrow. Cas frowns, lays two fingers against Dean's temple and the wounds vanish as if they never were.

Gabriel grins. Looks like his little brother got his groove back.

Dean looks at Cas with something like awe for a moment, then finds Gabriel, looks back to Sam's body, prostrate on the ground. "He's gone."

"Yes."

"It was for nothing."

"No. It was a sacrifice. It was always going to be a sacrifice, Dean. That's the whole theme. But the plan means it doesn't have to be a permanent one." He kneels next to Dean, next to Sam's body, puts his hands on Sam's forehead and watches the silvery blue light form around him like a neon outline before settling.

"What'd you do?" Dean barks.

"Preservation. He wouldn't exactly stay fresh," Gabriel says and stands. He stretches, pops his shoulders, the sound like muffled gunfire in the quiet.

"Gabriel." Isis moves toward him, cups his face in Her hands. "Here." She presses Her forehead to his so all he can see is dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes and all he can smell is the storm-sweet scent of Her, and all he can feel is the electrical tendrils of Her power as She pours into him. Then there's another power, warmer and bright and familiar accompanying Her own. And that—

"Yes. It's from your Father," She says as She places a kiss on his brow and steps back.

Gabriel gasps for air as if he's been drowning. His spine pulls tight and he feels the stretch of his wings, opens his eyes and watches them rise and arc, electric gold shot through with bolts of midnight blue, highlights of silver, and stronger than they've felt in a long time.

"Your eyes," Dean says, "they're gold." And Gabriel's half-forgotten there were humans among them; thankfully, Cas hasn't and has both Dean and Bobby wrapped in the interdimensional shadow of his own wings, protecting them from the burning brightness that Gabriel's giving off.

He takes another breath and pulls all that power back into himself, feels his skin fairly vibrate with it. Then he looks at Dean and snaps his fingers.

"What the hell?" Dean says, eyes crossing as the image of a house, its address prominent in his mind, pops into his head, along with the picture of a small, yapping Jack Russell.

"That's Fox," Gabriel says. "You're a dog person. Pick him up for me. And treat him well while I'm gone." And with that, Gabriel takes to the air, never one for long goodbyes.

-o0o-

Dean shakes his head. He's still muzzy. He looks at Sam's body, then looks at Cas, at the woman who'd come with Gabriel. "Where's he going?"

"To find Sam, of course" She says. She lifts Adam in Her arms once more, looks at the two brothers, then Bobby and Cas and smiles.

The world tilts on its axis and suddenly they're in Bobby's living room. Bobby stumbles into his desk chair, looking vaguely sick. Dean, still kneeling, makes sure Sam's body has followed them on the sudden trip, then looks up at the woman. "Who are you?"

"My Mother," Cas says, simply, as if those two words explain everything.

She winks. "You can call me Isis."

Bobby coughs, raises an eyebrow.

Dean's frown deepens as everything he's known falls apart once more. Then he shakes his head, rolls with it. "Okay." His eyes stray to Cas, hovering at the edge of the room. "You know, for a moment there, when you came back, healed me…I thought you might be God."

Cas smiles and it's beatific. "That's a nice sentiment."

"He does favor his Father," Isis says, placing Adam gently on Bobby's couch. "But Cas is more level headed and hands-on than Chuck ever was."

"Chuck?"

Isis smiles, meets Dean's eyes. He thinks She might be laughing at him.

"Don't think too hard about it. But, you know that line? 'Created in His image?' I always hated the imbalance of it. I was there too, thank you. But, it's not entirely wrong. You've learned the truth. We celestial beings and humans are very much alike. We are imperfect and fallible. We're just much longer lived. And when we screw up, like any parent, our children suffer for it. In tremendous ways. I hope to do better," She says softly. "This is a fresh start."

She gestures at Sam's body. "You should put him in a bed, Dean. Keep him safe until Gabriel returns. This one," She gestures to Adam, "will likely sleep for another day. Make sure you have food on hand. He'll wake up ravenous. I'll be back to check in on them," She finishes and vanishes in a waft of sweet scented air.

"I really," Dean says, "want to learn how you guys do that."

Cas shrugs. "It requires wings."

The silence that fills the room is heavy, broken only by the soft sounds of Adam's deep sleep breathing. The three of them stare at each other, at loose ends. Dean and Bobby have seen the end of many hunts, but what exactly do you do when you've seen the end of the coming apocalypse?

"Beer?" Bobby asks.

Dean nods.

"I can put Sam in the room he was using," Cas says. "Until… Until."

"I—yeah." Dean stirs, stands and then reaches down to slide his hands beneath Sam's armpits. "Get his feet, Cas?"

"Yes."

Together, angel and human, they carry Sam upstairs and into the bedroom, lay him carefully on top of the neatly made bed.

Cas leaves Dean alone then, going back downstairs to check on Adam, to see if Bobby needs help.

Dean watches the sunset through the window. He didn't expect to see this one. Didn't expect the world to be around for the sun to set. He remembers his last final sunset: remembers the burning agony of the hellhound ripping its way through his chest, remembers the heat of Hell, the smell of blood and burning flesh. But mostly, he remembers the darkness.

He watches the sunlight shrink, receding over Sam's body until it lights up only his face and finally leaves that in shadow.

Dean pulls the afghan at the foot of the bed up to Sam's chest, tucks it around him. Then he turns away, flicking the bedside lamps on as he goes, leaving Sam's body in a pool of light.