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Chapter Text

Healer, No Healing!
prompt - What was going through Raphael's head when he found Sam and was waiting for his brothers?

Raphael recognized the child's cry as it tore through the universe. It had been before the age of man since last he heard an angel as young as this one. But this was not the bells and chimes of a giggling grace-child. This was the screaming crash of sharp and violent cymbals.

The shock-wave slammed into him and Michael, stopping their return to Heaven. Fragmented images of frozen fire and metal and pain surged through the sparks of grace fueling the energy cloud. The cry called for faces without words, some of whom he remembered from before. A name rose to the surface of the Healer's memory, and he realized he already knew this child. Samuel Winchester.

They had to act quickly. The Host was in chaos, if the frantic voices of Heaven were any indication, but they would be on their way soon. The brothers shared a look, requiring no words to convey a thought, and flew directly to the distress.

It brought them to the outskirts of a building that sat in an otherwise-empty field. An intricate patchwork of Enochian wards surrounded it. Some carried the symbols of specific angels—namely Gabriel and Castiel. “Impressive. Hmm, ” the oldest archangel ran fingers over the wards and they dissolved into wisps, “They would not have stopped Gabriel even before they were half-shredded by the blast.”

Raphael walked toward the building that held the glow of young grace, savoring the cool earth against his bare soles. It grounded him in creation, allowing him to move within it rather than observing from afar. The humans' magic soaked into his skin, and whispered tales of sorrow and malice. He stretched out his grace, assessing the scene. “Two tainted souls—one dimmed beyond saving and neither a threat. The fledgling needs my attention. I do not know what these humans have done, but his grace has been damaged.”

Regret and shame rolled off Michael in waves, and he paused to see his brother stop moving. “My presence will only cause him more harm. He needs...” his eyes grew wide and snapped up to the stars, “Gabriel! Father save us, what is he doing ?”

Raphael followed his gaze and saw them immediately. Gabriel, bearing down on the Earth in a blaze of glory, with a seraph clutched to him for dear life. “He is going to kill us all if he tries to land at that speed. Go. I will take care of Samuel.” Michael flew before the words finished.

A new voice spoke over the connection shared by all angels, and Raphael heard the Host fall silent to listen. The boy was awake and calling out to his flock. With measured steps, he moved into the building.

The taste of fear soured his tongue. Smoke billowed from holy fire recently doused, burning the archangel's eyes and throat. His grace resonated, slowly cleansing the space around his vessel so he could continue forward unhindered. Taking a deep breath, he began humming the same tune he would use to calm little ones in eons past. The low, pure tone rumbled pleasantly in his new body and he hoped it would soothe Samuel's storm of nerves.

It was like walking into Hell armed only with a song. Flames and sparks reflected in rippling pools of water creating the illusion that the entire room was moving. But all Raphael could see was small, round face staring up at him in horror from the hard floor—a mess of bruises and cuts draped in over-sized thin clothing.

As he drew closer, Samuel tried to wrench his arms from the manacles, and brought his knees up. Raphael saw the frantic swirling grace flare in agony as the boy's mouth opened in a silent scream. The Healer responded immediately, flying into the cage and kneeling beside the trapped fledgling. His eyes flashed when they caught sight of the collar and sensed it's purpose.

“Peace, child. You are safe now,” he reassured automatically in Enochian. He wasn't expecting the shocked reaction to his words, nor the flurry of motion when he released the bindings that held the raw wrists. Sam rolled away, slamming into the bars and forced his body to its feet. Raphael started to move forward but was stopped by a ragged voice.

“No! You stay. Stay!” Sam ordered.

Raphael raised his hands to calm the fledgling, “You are injured. Will you not allow me to tend your wounds?”

“No! No allow. No touch! Stay,” the boy demanded in broken phrases as he moved out of the cage with a warrior's determination. Raphael could only stare in confusion when Samuel took the time to retrieve something off the floor. It was clearly a difficult and painful act, but he valiantly returned upright brandishing a thin wooden rod. “Who you? Name!”

Unsettled, Raphael moved toward the cage door. He could feel the pain pouring off the young angel's grace. How was he even conscious, let alone standing? “I have never had a fledgling refuse healing. Why choose to extend your suffering, little—”

Samuel cut him off in a burst of fury, “I not fucking know you!”

The possibility of an angel not recognizing the Healer of Heaven had never occurred to Raphael. He winced at his own arrogance and knew he could not approach Samuel as one of the fledglings who had been under his care their entire existence. There was a human soul woven into their Father's grace inside the tiny body limping across the room—a soul shredded by Heaven and grace cut off from guidance by a damned collar.

Pushing down his own desires to act, Raphael conceded, “My apologies, Samuel.”

“You know me?” Sam stared at him, openly suspicious.

Raphael couldn't tell if the boy had believed his identity a secret or if he didn't believe himself significant enough to know. Both options were childishly absurd, and the equivalent of a toddler who covered their eyes to hide. He smiled down into the fierce scowling face, “Of course I know you, child. I knew you the moment I heard your cry. Our Father has not made a fledgling in many millenniums. We have met twice before, but only one time did I have a vessel. I am Raphael, the Healer of Heaven.” He presented his wings, a traditional gesture for angels when they announce themselves.

Samuel faltered in fear and wildly searched the room for something. “No, no, no...” he pleaded as his breaths became shorter and faster. The female human shifted on the floor as she started to wake up. A few feet away, the panicked boy froze in place. Raphael finally felt able to intervene.

He clapped his hands together, snatching the woman from the floor and dropping her in the cage beside the dying man. With a thought, he pushed her consciousness down to a level where she would not rouse without his permission. Samuel jumped at the sound and watched as his abusers were locked behind their own bars.

“You are safe, Samuel. I promise no harm will come to you. We will see you reunited with your family and caretakers, that is all.”

His words only served to further aggravate the fledgling. Thin arms trembled under the strain of holding the stick out. “We? ” he whispered, and Raphael understood.

“Michael is currently intercepting Gabriel and Castiel. They—”

“Why?!” The word was forced through a harsh cough.

Raphael blinked, unsure of the outrage he was sensing. “Why what?”

“Why stop them being here? If you help, why stop them?”

The smile came unbidden to Raphael's lips as he wondered at the determination each member of this tiny flock was exhibiting to get to one another. He hoped Michael had better luck convincing Gabriel that his charge was safe enough to slow their descent. “Ah, yes, I meant 'intercepting' in the sense that he is providing them assistance with their re-entry.”

Clutching the walls of the hall with white fingers, Samuel made a face and continued to inch backwards on his one good foot. “What mean?”

Raphael explained as he matched each step. Seeing any child in such a state of distress was tearing at his grace. He tried to be reassuring as he approached the skittish boy, but Samuel still looked like he was expecting Raphael to smite him. “I do not know what led you to become separated from your flock, but they will be here soon.” The promise was met with silence, and Raphael simultaneously cursed and marveled at the strength of will displayed in one so young.

They made steady progress until Samuel tripped on twisted metal and landed hard on the floor. Raphael moved on instinct when heard the wrenched cry. “No! Please no!” the boy begged and lashed out with the wooden rod.

It landed on the back of his hand and Raphael pulled back. Pain quaked through his grace and he felt anger burn lava-hot in his belly as he realized why Samuel had been holding it as a weapon. To use such a thing on a child was inconceivable!

“What is that thing?” his voice came out gruffer than intended and he had to settle his own emotions to stay focused on Samuel.

“It...” the small voice broke off, sounding lost, then continued in English, “It's an Olive branch. Noah's dove brought a piece back to the ark from the same tree or something. I don't...”

Tears streamed down the flushed cheeks as the boy turned onto his belly. Raphael inhaled sharply at the sight of his back. Grace seeped out from between thin shoulder blades, swirling sluggishly in a formless mass. He recognized the singe marks along the energy's edges. It was a common enough injury among soldiers who fought in battles involving holy fire.

“Oh Father, what did they do to you?” he choked out. How far had the world fallen that children were so casually brutalized? How far had Heaven fallen that no one saw fit to intervene?

A cold, angry voice answered him, “Nothing I haven't already experienced at your brothers' hands.”

The truth sat like a boulder in the middle of his vessel, and he started to understand Michael's fits of guilt and sadness. His knees folded and he plead forgiveness. “I am sorry, Samuel, for my part in your suffering. Please, allow me to help. What would be most helpful to you right now?”

Hazel eyes studied him, weighing the archangel's worthiness to help. The boy's decision made him want to weep. “I...I go outside, ” he stumbled back into Enochian and waited to see what Raphael would do with the statement. The Healer lowered his head in acceptance and Samuel seemed encouraged by the gesture. He continued, a little bolder, “No fly. Only walk.”

Raphael nodded and saw a little hand reach toward him. Slowly, he stood and wrapped his larger hands completely around the oh-so-breakable appendage. The show of trust overwhelmed him as he lifted Samuel gently onto his feet.

Being able to touch the fledgling allowed a closer examination. The over-sized shirt had slipped off one shoulder in the fall, and he could see welts from a recent beating. He grimaced at the smell of burnt grace. “Are you certain you do not wish healing? You have many injuries—some appear quite severe and painful.”

He felt the muscles tense under his grip and Sam violently shook his head, spraying water from the tips of tangled curls. “No heal!” he insisted.

“I promise I will not heal you without permission. Will you lean on me as you walk?” Raphael rushed to reassure him, though he had never before sworn to not to heal an angel. Again, he found himself surprised by Samuel's response. A timid smile tugged across the bloody mouth and they limped out into the cool morning sun.

In the distance, the growing presence of the Righteous Man alerted Raphael to the incoming humans. It seemed all the members of the hybrid flock were approaching their location at speeds that exceeded any safety limits. Before he could announce the news, he felt the boy's body collapse.

Wrapping an arm around Samuel's waist to take hold of his other side, Raphael was careful not to touch the emerging wing buds. “Samuel,” he began but the stubborn child shook his head. A heartbreaking half-sob slipped past clenched teeth and Raphael barely resisted the impulse to swaddle the little one in grace, “Samuel, if you refuse healing then you must rest. You cannot continue to stand in your condition.” The body was weightless to the archangel, but he felt it start to sag and patiently waited it out.

Samuel lurched forward without warning and Raphael couldn't prevent him from stepping fully on the burned sole. Helplessness frustrated him as he watched fresh tears pour over the face scrunched up in pain. Grace twisted, barely contained by the battered vessel it could feel but not hear.

“Enough, child.” He kept his voice low and did what he'd wanted to do since first hearing the boy's cry. He carefully lifted the fledgling off his feet and held him close.

Samuel went wild fighting with all the effectiveness of an furious kitten. “No! No! NO!” he spat.

Sharp teeth nipped against his arm and he tried not to be amused. Instead, he just kept his grip on the flailing child gentle, but unyielding, and searched for somewhere to take him. “You are safe. We will find a place to sit comfortably and wait for the others to arrive,” a low growl sounded in the back of Samuel's throat, “Shh, the fight is over. Rest now, you fierce fledgling.”

Raphael hummed a song to soothe the storm building below Samuel's skin. Pinpricks of static sparked along his wings and he winced at the sensation. There was no denying the young angel's powerful potential. He found a bench set far enough away that the building didn't loom over them and released the squirming bundle of limbs. The boy quickly scooted as far from him as possible and curled in on himself.

Looking to the sky, Raphael spied all three angels and was relieved to note their decreased speed. Another check on the Righteous Man's group of hunters confirmed they should arrive at roughly the same time. Michael, do not land on the humans. They are almost here, he silently sent to his oldest brother as he continued to hum.

It was an amazing thing to witness the moment Samuel recognized the sound of the approaching car. The chaotic grace settled its restless shifting and sang with tentative hope that lit up the smudged and streaked face. Raphael couldn't help but laugh, “I believe that is the human equivalent to how Gabriel and Castiel are approaching our location as well.”

The peace was broken when another familiar presence appeared much closer. Raphael shifted his stance, prepared to protect Samuel. The landing was announced by an explosion of sound from behind the building and the healer grabbed Samuel's shoulders to steady him in the aftershock. A small voice asked, “Was that...was that Cas and Gabriel?”

“No,” was all he could say as he gathered his grace into his preferred blade. The silver staff thrummed in his hand, ready to defend the fledgling and his human family from the unpredictable newcomer. A man turned the corner and came to a stop in front of them. Emotions passed through the cold eyes, too fast for most to even notice, but Raphael saw each and every one. He had always been able to read Lucifer like a book.

Samuel stared, radiating surprised recognition instead of fear. With the collar in place, there was no way for him to identify the archangel by his grace. There was an odd excitement in his voice when addressed the figure, “Vince Vicente?” But as soon as the leather-clad vessel took a step and smiled cruelly, Raphael felt the horror spark off Samuel's grace. The boy knew who stood before them.

“Of course it's you!” Lucifer proclaimed, “Seven and a half billion humans on this decaying planet, and it is always you. Why is that?” He kept using sudden dramatic gestures, grinning in delight when they made Samuel flinch away.

“Lucifer, why have you come here?” Raphael drew his brother's attention away from the shaking child with an honest question. Why would Lucifer expose himself to his newly restored brothers while wearing a weaker vessel? The archangel was already burning through this man's body—he was clearly outmatched.

“What, and miss that 'new feather' smell?” he mocked, sneering at the child leaning into Raphael's hand, “Call it curiosity. Every angel in creation heard him. I gotta ask, roomie,” Lucifer used the word like a slur, “I never heard you scream like that. What did they do that I didn't, hmm?”

Anger rolled through Raphael at the crude taunts, knowing the heinous deeds they referenced. His wings snapped into place around Samuel as he roared, “Enough! Leave here, brother.” He felt the small body curl in closer, seeking safety against his side.

“And why would I do that, brother?”

Before Raphael could respond, a piercing pitch cut through the sky above signaling their brothers' re-entry. He suppressed his glee at Lucifer's dawning comprehension, but was silently glad to see the cocky attitude vanish. It was good to know the archangel was still capable of fear.

Raphael let it sink in, then answered, “Because our brothers are on their way. Gabriel is eager to return to this child—you remember how protective he is over fledglings. It is in your best interest to leave. We can settle our differences another time. Please! ”

His words went unheeded, and the Healer smiled at Lucifer as Michael, Gabriel, and Castiel all landed in an explosion of earth. They both knew it was over.

Chapter Text

Flying Lessons

Gabriel stared at Sam. At least, he assumed Sam was in there, buried beneath the bundle of padding. It was also possible the awkward angel had decided to adopt a pile of laundry. My Dad, Cas is weird sometimes…

“Cassie, why did you strap pillows to Sam?” He leaned in close and saw two hazel eyes glaring out from underneath a too-large helmet.

“Sam needs to learn flight.”

“Okaaay,” Gabriel frowned as Castiel tightened another strap, “Are we launching him from a catapult or is this a new fashion statement?”

“It is a safety precaution.” The seraph’s scowl had Gabriel stepping back. “I have not forgotten my own experience.”

“What?! I was a great teacher!”

“You were pushy.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes, “So you needed a little nudge out of the nest. You were clingy–like coaxing a koala to fly!”

“No, you literally pushed me, Gabriel!”

“I caught you,” the archangel said with a shrug.

“With your foot!” Castiel ripped off another long strip of tape, wrapping it around a beach towel that seemed to cover Sam’s arm.

“So you want him to just bounce? He can’t even move!”

“I…want him to be safe.”

The rush of wings made both angels pause. Raphael stood behind them looking bewildered. “Brothers, what are you doing?”

“I am teaching Sam to fly,” Castiel answered, sending a glare at Gabriel.

“Teaching Sam to bounce, you mean.” Gabriel pouted and turned imploring eyes on Raphael. “Cassie is trying to steal my Dad-given right to teach a fledgling how to fly because he doesn’t trust my techniques. He thinks I’m just gonna fling the kid off a cloud!“

Raphael studied his brothers and the sadly bundled pile before turning his face to the heavens, as though praying for patience. A long-suffering sigh had the angels shifting nervously–the Healer was known for his lectures. But the older archangel didn’t address them.

With his head still raised, Raphael crossed his arms and said with playful sternness, “Samuel."

A sound like chimes echoed from the rafters, making Gabriel and Castiel look around wildly. How the hell…

Sam appeared beside Raphael with barely a whisper of wings. His sweaty face grinned in triumph at the two confused angels.

Gabriel’s mouth fell open. “How in Dad’s name did you…? Where did you even come from?”

“Did you fly?” Castiel asked, standing frozen with the roll of tape still in his hands.

“Of course!” Sam huffed.

“How?!” Gabriel and Castiel demanded in unison.

“Raphael taught me weeks ago,” Sam said with a shrug. “I’d heard you two fight for days about it, and went to him.”

“You are an excellent student, Samuel,” he said proudly and sent a pointed look to his brothers, “Especially to fly unnoticed while under the supervision of Heaven’s finest.”

“Thanks!” Sam blushed at the praise.

“Come along, then. I brought you a new book.”

“Just a sec.” Sam walked to Castiel and pulled on his trench coat until the seraph crouched down. “I know you really wanted to teach me. And I hope I didn’t upset you.”

“No, Sam, I assure…”

“Good, because I have a way to make it up to you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as Sam whispered his idea into his ear.

“Well?” Gabriel asked impatiently after the fledgling left with their older brother. “What did he say?”

“Brother,” Castiel said, carefully gathering the boy-shaped laundry sculpture, “I need your help.”

**LATER**

Gabriel snickered as he perched in the treetop and nodded his readiness to Castiel. The angel nodded back from his place on the bunker’s roof.

Far below, Dean stretched out lazily on the lawn. Unsuspecting. Enjoying a rare moment to relax without worry or guilt.

Gabriel’s voice shattered the peace. “Fly, mini-moose, fly!!”

Castiel launched the bundle.

“SAAAAAAAAAM!!!”

Chapter Text

The Creation of Laughter

Chapter Text

The Cycle of Seeds

THEN:

Gabriel slumped in the grass, lost to boredom.

Raphael insisted on studying the flower for its entire life-cycle. The most exciting part was when they’d followed the drifting seed as it danced through the wind to plant itself in fresh earth. But that had been weeks ago! There was only so much staring he could take.

The need for movement built in the younger angel, making his wings twitch. “For the love of Dad…Raphael, it is a flower! It grows from a seed, blooms, has whatever passes as sex for plants, and DIES! Sniff it so we can move on already! I need to get back to that southern island.” He flitted about in agitation. “I may have started some creatures down an experimental path a while ago…and then I may have kinda forgotten about them.”

Raphael just smiled and wrestled his brother back to the ground, stilling the restlessness with gentle motions. “Patience, brother. We are almost done.” Gabriel settled, relishing in Raphael’s grooming, and granting the Healer a few more days of peaceful contemplation.

Finally, Raphael nudged Gabriel from his stupor. “Gabriel. Look there,” he whispered.

Gabriel followed his gaze to find a tiny blur of color darting around the flower. The thing flew to hover between the archangels, eyeing them curiously. “What is it?”

“I call it a hummingbird,” Raphael said fondly. “They remind me of you—bright, inquisitive, constantly moving. And they have a love of sweet things.”

Gabriel smiled and watched in fascination as the brilliant little bird exploded into motion. It spun around them on wings that beat effortlessly fast. He secretly loves these moments—when Raphael has purposefully driven him mad with boredom because it was worth it for that one second of discovery.

“Come along, my little hummingbird,” Raphael pulls them to their feet, “We shall check on your creatures before Michael and Lucifer find them. They never appreciated your creativity…”

NOW:

Gabriel flew from Heaven in a whirlwind of rage and pain.

Cries of alarm sounded from behind him and several seraphs gave chase. He blasted through time and space, pushing his wings to their limit until they could no longer follow. Their voices tore at him, staying present no matter how fast he moved.

The archangel remained in his true-form, choosing to burn off his fury in flight. Countless galaxies separated him from Earth before he finally stopped. It was quiet now, his siblings stretched to a thin whisper in the back of his mind.

He felt gutted, gripped by loss. Lucifer was gone.

Fallen!! The word itself sliced through his grace like an angel blade. The Morningstar had fallen, cast into a cage in the center of Hell by Michael himself. All at their Father’s command.

“This is Your fault, Father!” Gabriel screamed, pulverizing a passing planet. “Do You hear me? This is Your fault! You gave him the Mark, You saw it change him, and You did nothing!”

Despair drove him beyond speech when he heard no reply.

Lucifer was gone. Michael was gone, replaced by an empty shell after the betrayal. Father had left them, silently slinking out of Heaven without a word. But it was the change in Raphael that had been Gabriel’s breaking point.

The Healer had always been the grounding force between the four archangels. Michael and Lucifer were fire and ice, opposites orbiting one another in total sync. Their extreme natures had served as a fearsome reminder of the need for balance. Raphael had nurtured that balance with patience and wisdom.

But Lucifer was gone, and Michael’s fire soon burnt out.

In their absence, Raphael’s steadiness hardened into something unyielding. It turned him inward, as though it were possible to hibernate through Heaven’s destruction. He burrowed until finally Gabriel’s brother was gone. His teacher, mentor and confidante was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Gabriel took his time returning to Earth. He pushed his grace down, shielding his mind from the rest of the Host as much as possible. It was time to follow the contingency plans he’d created when things first started to go wrong.

He flew to a small cabin in the mountain where there lived a hunter–Gabriel’s vessel. They’d shared many adventures during the archangel’s numerous visits to Earth. The man was already waiting with his “yes” when Gabriel arrived.

Grace poured into flesh until his true-self was completely embodied. Gabriel opened golden eyes and felt them burn in the cold air.  Winter was leaving the mountains, soon to fade in the growing sun.  He took a deep breath and blew out a cloud of white.

He felt adrift, like a seed ripped from his roots and set loose in the wind. But there was no one left to follow him. No one who cared to see where he landed.

Everyone was gone.

A burst of color shimmered bright in the morning light. From underneath the thin layer of snow, the first bloom of springtime emerged. He resisted the temptation to crush it beneath his heel.

Chapter Text

Guardian of Dreams

It was the whimpers that woke Morpheus.  Standing, he stretched his tiny legs and looked straight to his charge.  The sight at the head of the bed had him instantly moving.

Sam was curled into a ball on his side, sheets twisted around his legs.  The boy’s body shook from tension.  Another whimper escaped his tightly pressed lips as he turned his face into the pillow.

Morpheus quickly made his way to the head of the bed.  Why did Sam insist on sleeping in his old room when he knew he did better with the others close by?  They would have to address the issue soon—the past week had proven difficult as Sam’s sleep steadily deteriorated.

Tears blended with sweat down the boy’s face, and Morpheus gently lapped them away.  He nosed against the damp curls that stuck to Sam’s temple.  Wake up, pup.  Come on, wake up.  You’re okay.  Open your eyes for me.  Come on, Sam, wake up.

His words had no effect.  Morpheus considered calling one of the angels, but decided to try once more.  Jumping off the bed, he shook his small form.  Magic gathered around him as he shifted, gaining mass until he stood at his full-size.

Peering down at his young charge, he resumed washing away the fresh tears.  He rooted at the bony shoulder with his massive snout in between licks, moving the boy onto his back.  Sam, wake up, he said in a deeper rumble.

Sam’s eyes flew open and he gasped.  Hazel eyes, lit with fear and grace, darted around the room.  Or tried to, at least—Morpheus’ face took up most of his field of vision.  And the familiar sight of his protector and friend brought a new round of tears.

“I-I was…” Sam stuttered, trying to catch his breath, “I was there again.”

Morpheus didn’t ask which “there” Sam referred to—there were too many to count.  Too many memories of too many places where too many people caused too many traumas. There was time to discuss the nightmare later, when Sam felt safe enough to do so.  Right now, the only thing he needed was comfort.

Shh, you are not there.  You are home, in bed, and your family is just down the hall.  Everyone is safe.  Morpheus recited the litany of assurances he’d learned from the angels. Nightmares were routine for the fledgling.  Everyone had developed their own methods for dealing with the aftermath.  Words and touch seemed to work the best.

Tiny hands dug into his fur, pulling him closer.  Sam buried his face into Morpheus’ neck, breathing deeply.  “I’m sorry I woke you up.  Again,” he muttered.

Morpheus huffed a sigh, blowing Sam’s hair with his hot breath.  This, too, was common—this wave of embarrassment that followed every night terror.  His selfless boy was always more concerned about causing a disturbance for others.  Silly pup.  What have I told you?  I may look like a dog, but…?

Sam flopped back against his pillow with a slight smile, but kept his grip on Morpheus’ fur.  “But you sleep like a cat,” he answered obediently.

Anywhere, anytime!  He licked the boy’s face, and moved down to wash the sweat from his neck.  It earned him a half-laugh as Sam jolted from the ticklish sensation.  Are you ready to go back to sleep?

Sam’s smile wavered, and his eyes darted to the desk that currently held a mountain of books from Raphael.  The archangel had intended for the fledgling to read them at leisure, unaware that Sam was staying up on sleepless nights to devour them.  Morpheus considered shredding the pages with his teeth if it would make the boy stop.

“I don’t know,” Sam pushed himself up on his elbows, “I may just—”

No, Morpheus interrupted, butting his head against the boy’s chest and knocking him flat against the bed.  You have only slept for two hours tonight.  And you did not sleep at all last night.  No more, Sam.

“But…”

Morpheus carefully stepped onto the bed, his size allowing him to do so without jumping.  Sam looked up in alarm, not entirely used to the shifter’s larger form.  Before he could protest, the canine lowered himself onto the mattress.  There wasn’t much room, and Sam found himself half-buried under a sea of fur.  

“Morph—” Sam tried to wriggle away, only to be thwarted by a massive paw landing across his torso.

Hush, and go to sleep. Morpheus pulled the boy closer.

Sam remained tense.  “I can’t!”  His voice broke trying to get out the words.

Why?  Morpheus dragged his tongue over the back of Sam’s neck and up through the long curls.  He needed to rid his boy of the sour-fear scent that made his nose twitch.

“Because,” Sam whispered, “sleeping hurts.  It takes me away from here, and I can’t get back.”

Come here, pup.  He waited as Sam slowly turned toward him.  Morpheus brought his head down to nuzzle against the boy’s back, encouraging him to relax.  He felt little fingers grip his fur again as Sam shifted closer and used the paw not curled around his waist as a pillow.  I will not let you get lost.  You are safe and under the protection of gods and angels.  Sleep now--if your dreams take you astray, I will pull you back.

“Promise?” Sam asked, his words almost lost under the blanket of white fur.

Promise.  Morpheus shifted slightly until he was certain he would not crush the new-angel child, then allowed himself to relax.  His head rested on Sam’s back, listening to the rapid heartbeat gradually slow with sleep.

The bedroom door opened, casting a sliver of light across the bed.  He opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness.  Morpheus raised his head when he heard the soft footsteps of the approaching archangel.

“Is he okay?” Gabriel whispered.

He will be.

Gabriel sighed, looking both fond and exasperated, and crouched down next to the bed.  His hands smoothed over the still-developing wings, calming them with his own grace. The room smelled like a summer storm--a unique blend of the two angels’ power.  Morpheus liked it much better than the stink of fear.

“Must have been a bad nightmare.  He undid all of Raphael’s work in under two hours.  I’d hoped grooming before bedtime would help.”

It did, Morpheus assured as he rested his head against Sam again.  He actually slept some tonight.

“Meaning he’s not been sleeping other nights, right?” Gabriel muttered.  “Well, we can work on that in the morning.  I’ll let the others know not to wake him up—let him sleep as long as possible.”

Tell Dean I will sneeze on his face if I so much as hear him in the hallway.

Gabriel nodded, smirking.  “Take care of our boy, Morpheus,” he whispered before closing the door silently.

Always, Morpheus promised.  He closed his eyes and followed Sam into sleep.

Chapter Text

hyrulehearts1123 asked:
Sam, when will you just let Gabriel and Morpheus cuddle you already?

“Oh God, keep your voice down–if Dean hears you say the word ‘cuddle,’ I’ll never hear the end of it!”  Sam scowls, already able to hear his brother’s laughter echoing in his mind.  “And what do you mean, ‘let them cuddle me?’  I’m not a damn teddy bear.  Or a kid, for that matter.  No matter how I appear.  I don’t need cuddles.”

He sighs and pushes his curls away from his face.

“Honestly, I feel like everyone is constantly touching me already.  Dean and I didn’t exactly grow up in a ‘hugs and cuddles’ kinda family.  Maybe things would have been different if…” he trails off, shaking his head–he doesn’t like thinking about the ‘what-ifs’ of the past.

He takes a deep breath before he continuing.  “It’s been hard.  I mean, being small again is hard enough, but having grace makes it so much worse.  I keep feeling all these things I’ve never felt before.  And I think the angels know this–especially Gabriel and Raphael.  When I first woke up like this,” he gestures to himself, “I remember feeling this pull toward something.  It took me a while to realize it was Cas, but I didn’t understand it.  Raphael tried to explain it to me–something about how young grace will reach for other angels.  It just makes me want to lock myself in a room somewhere.  I don’t like it!  I don’t like having urges outside my control influencing me!”

Sam wipes the sweat from his palms onto his pantlegs.  Reminders of his addiction to demon blood and his lock-down in the panic room always made him nervous and angry.  But then he smiles as his mind shifts back to the question, and he thinks of the other person mentioned.

“Of course, Morpheus is a little different.  I can’t really deny him anything at this point.  I already carry him around in my hoodie when he’s small, and now he’s started to carry me around when he’s giant.  But then, I’ve always been a sucker for dogs.”

darksilveraster asked:
Michael, what is your favorite memory of Lucifer, and what was it like before you had any siblings?

“Hmm, I believe my answers are quite intertwined, but I shall answer the second part first,” Michael says with a small, sad smile.  “When my Father created me, there was nothing else in existence.  He’d hidden Himself away from Amara, knowing that She would destroy me too if given the chance.  And for an unmeasurable amount of time, all I knew was my Father–His voice, His light, His love.

“We sang songs before there were words until the music began to form repeating patterns and some sounds took on meanings.  And when those meanings became words, Father sang to me the story of His sister and how She devoured anything He tried to create.  I told Him that perhaps He needed more light to keep the Darkness at bay.

“I watched Him create Lucifer, although that was not his first name.  Heylel, the Lightbringer.  My brother was brilliant, made of so much light that the first sun was born in his wake.  My Morningstar…

“I cherished every single moment of our existence together.  My name means ‘who is like God,’ and I was–because God was all I knew.  But Lucifer was different, and I loved him.  We were polar opposites in perfect harmony with each other, and I thought nothing would ever separate us.

“Before Raphael and Gabriel, before Heaven and the other angels, before leviathans and planets and humanity–it was just the two of us together, learning what it meant to exist.  I finally understood why our Father felt compelled to create us, because I hadn’t realized how empty the universe had been until Lucifer was there to fill it.

“That is my favorite memory–not some adventure or antic, but that realization.  Life was suddenly limitless simply because Lucifer existed,” Michael pauses, shaking his head as his smile slips away.  “I never considered the possibility that I might lose him–that there might come a day where he was no longer by my side.”

“I was a fool.”  Michael’s eyes light with determined fire.  “And I will not rest until the corruption of the damned Mark is purged from his grace.  He will be the Morningstar again, and he will light the world with his brilliance.”

madgeer-chan asked:
Morpheus why are you so cute? :> <3

I am the son of Hecate.  A sacrificed soul reborn to a goddess whom even the angels approach in awe.  I have spent centuries in her service, fought and won wars by her side, and protected the children my Mother deemed in need.

There are some who would take offense to such a question.

However, Morpheus rolls his tiny body across the cool grass, relishing the warmth of the sun on his belly, I am not one of those stick-in-the-muds!  I was born cute, I died cute, and Mother knew better than to waste such perfection.  But I’m more than cute!!  I’m an adorable delight.  A precious masterpiece of splendid divinity!  

A butterfly distracts him, and he takes chase for a minute before padding back over and flopping down in a breathless huff.

Of course, I use my cuteness to my advantage.  The children I care for are often wary–they are hurt and scared and don’t know how to trust.  It is why I am called in.  My smaller size allows them the chance to be bigger than someone for once, and I usually connect with a new child in this form.

Morpheus stands and gives a full-body shake.  The air shimmers with magic as his form expands until the tiny, cotton-ball looms massive and imposing.  A canine of epic proportions.

But it is my large form that makes them feel safe.   Some are intimidated at first. But the realization that I stand between them and their nightmares is a profound reassurance.  Like this, I can protect them.  I can carry them away from danger, or curl around them until their anxiety and sadness fades back to memory.

So, why am I so cute?  His mouth slowly forms a wide, wolfish grin.  Because it serves my greater purpose.

anonymous asked:
BMoL, folks, have you thought about the fact that a.) there's a thing called consent instead of blasting (basically) an already traumatized child's guardians into space, to then proceed to kidnap the kid to study him and give him even more lasting scars? 10/10 course of action! (Hope the ones in Heaven have fun with...whatever's gonna happen to them..)

“Oi, Shep!  You hear that?”  Ms Watt smirks at her cellmate and rolls her eyes.  “This Nonnie thinks we was mean to that halo.”

“Disgusting,” Shepard says in a bored drawl.  “I suppose we are expected to ask a dog for permission to put it down when it becomes rabid, too.  Well, let me tell you something–we are at war with creatures who care little about the fate of humanity.  These ‘guardians’ you speak of created a system that tortures human souls into demons.”

“Nevermind they tried to destroy the world in their own spittin’ match!” Ms Watt adds angrily.  “Bloody savages, the lot of ‘em!”

“And don’t forget that this ‘traumatized child,’” Shepard spits out the words as though they taste vile on his tongue, “is nothing more than an abomination.  Filled with demon blood and angel grace and who knows what–can’t be anything human left.”

Ms Watt shudders next to him.  “I need a shower just thinkin’ about it.  I can’t believe I touched that thing, Shep.”

Shepard’s eyes grow cold and hard as he stares through the bars of Heaven’s prison.  “We did nothing wrong.  Sam Winchester had the chance to come peacefully when he was still somewhat human.  Now, he’s a threat to planet.  And I hope our comrades end him before it’s too late.”

anonymous asked:
Lucifer, how do you feel about having a new sibling that used to be your True Vessel™? (Also; sidenote, please let him have peace.)

“Let him have peace?” Lucifer sneers, causing the cracks in his failing vessel to widen.  “And why should I allow him peace when I am granted none?  Answer me that!”

He walks slowly around the empty room that smells vaguely of death and decay.

“Look at me!  On the run with barely enough grace to hold myself together in the decaying vessel of a decaying rockstar.  Do I look like I’m prepared to throw a ‘welcome to the family’ party for that…brat?!

“You ask me how I feel about having Sam as my newest little sibling,” Lucifer’s steps slow and his shoulders drop with a sigh.  “I don’t really know, honestly.  Part of me is angry–angrier than I’ve been in eons.  But I am also…intrigued.  Father has not been involved in the affairs of men or angels in a very long time.  I do not know what it means–why would he decide to make a new child now?

“I have no desire to continue this fight.  I have no desire for anything anymore.  I will grant the Winchesters ‘peace’ for now,” Lucifer turns, a smile splitting the skin of his cheek, “But should I find my desires rekindled, that may change.”

anonymous asked:
Hey Chuck? I realize you and Amara are on vacation and your voicemail is probably really backlogged anyway, but why didn't you two have a sit-down with Lucifer like you had with Michael and Raphael? Also, are you going to give the angels any hugs when you get back?

In a dimension far, far away…

“Oh, hey!  How did you even find Me here?” Chuck looks up from the books spread out across the table.  He grabs His half-empty beer and drains what’s left in it.  “There’s a few reasons why I haven’t worked with Lucifer the same way I did for his siblings.

“I guess I wanted to give him a chance to find his path on his own first.  I mean, Gabriel and Raphael had to be resurrected.  Michael was trapped in the Cage, and…umm…crazy.  Plus, Lucifer and I already talked–we ‘sat down’ and everything!  I even apologized–just ask the Winchesters.”

“Brother…” Amara’s voice filters in from the next room.

Chuck winces.  “Okay, the thing is…I don’t know how to help him yet.  Amara and I have searched several universes so far, looking for answers.  We’ve got a few ideas, but I don’t want to approach Lucifer until I know I can help him.  I can’t–I’ve failed him enough already.”

“You really have” Amara says, entering the room with another stack of books, “Who knew you’d be such a terrible God?”

“Yes, thank you.  I’m aware.  Although, I think I’ve done a few good things.  Did you see my cat blog?”

“True.  Stupid furry bags of…cuteness,” Amara concedes.  “Hurry up and answer the other question so we can get back to work.  I’m not going through all of these alone.”

“Right, sorry.  Umm, what was the question?”

“Are you going to hug your little snots hugs when we return?” Amara says with a grin.

“Hey!  They are not little snots!” Chuck flicks a wad of paper at her, which ignites and vaporizes before reaching her.  “Show off.  And I definitely hope to hug my children.  I don’t know if any of them would want a hug from me, but I love and miss them all.  I just…I have a lot to make up for before I can return.” 

anonymous asked:
Raphael, the first time around you lost your interest in humanity (and their culture) around the Crusades.. So, now that you've seen Star Wars (&probably a few other films) AND actually spent some time getting to know a couple of humans.. *glances around nervously* Ummm.. What I wanted to ask was... Can you finally see what your Father meant, when he asked you to love humanity..? ... I really feel like I should ask for forgiveness for bringing up this stuff...

“There is no need to ask for forgiveness,” Raphael reassures with a gentle smile, “nor is there cause to be nervous.  I am sorry if I have given you reason to fear me–that has never been my intent.  Even when I wished to usher in the Apocalypse, it was not out of some desire for power.  I was misguided, and allowed my own exhaustion and apathy rule my reason.  I do not know if I will ever be able to make amends, but I intend to try.

“My problem was not that I lacked an understanding of my Father’s order to love His creation.  In fact, I was quite fond of humans.  They fascinated me with their creativity and capacity for survival in spite of everything.  And the joy they brought to Gabriel was reason enough for me to love them.

“No, I lost interest in humanity when I lost interest in everything,” his eyes fill with tears and he blinks at the still-unfamiliar sensation.  “We lost our way.  Our brightest brother was cast out by the one who loved him the most.  Our Father left, too ashamed to face what He’d done to His children.  But it was the loss of Gabriel that hurt me the most.

“I tried, for a time, to carry on without him.  I would find something to study, but I kept expecting to hear or see him.  I had grown so used to my little hummingbird constantly flitting about that I did not know how to exist in his absence.  It felt like a part of me had been carved out and replaced with silence and cold anger.”

Raphael blinks again, and the tears fall freely down his cheeks.  But his smile returns, bright and joyful.  “And now, that void which seemed so vast and consuming has been filled again.  Gabriel is alive and by my side.  Even when we are apart, I hear him in my mind and feel him in my grace.  Heaven is being restored.  My Father made Himself known to His children once more.  And best of all, there is a new fledgling–an angel child made from my Father’s grace and the best human soul in creation.

“So, perhaps you were correct.  Maybe I didn’t really understand my Father’s original order.  I believe my adoration of humanity has truly just begun, because I find I love them a little more with each passing day.”

moonfire1 asked:
Gabriel -- Slowly but surely, your family is coming back to you. At the center of all of that is one well-meaning hunter turned fledgling. Your history together has been tumultuous. What are you thinking and feeling as you guard Sam's dreams?

“Oh, sure,” Gabriel says a hushed voice, “give me an ‘easy’ question, why don’t you.”

He peers through the doorway at the pile of sleeping figures on the bed.  Sam is sprawled in the center, with his brother snoring on one side and Castiel reading a book on the other.  Morpheus is tucked against the back of the boy’s knees.  Mary is asleep on the other bed next to them.  The archangel gives a nod to his brother, and quietly walks down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Sometimes, I can’t believe this is my life now,” he admits as he goes about making himself a hot chocolate.  “Emphasis on the ‘life now’ part–I really didn’t see that coming.  I knew it was over when I walked into that hotel to confront Lucifer.  I wasn’t there to fight him–just buy time to get the Winchesters and Kali out.  And I knew Luci was gonna kill me.  I’d hoped he wouldn’t, but I knew he would.

“I wish I’d had time to explain.”  He stares down into his drink as he slowly stirs the dark chocolate.  “They thought I was there to fight.  But besides the fact that I could never kill one of my siblings, they have no idea what it means for two archangels to fight–really fight.  The destruction it would have done to this world, the lives lost, would have been unimaginable.”

Heaving a sigh, he piles whipped cream over top the cocoa and takes a sip.  It leaves white foam covering his nose and he wipes it on his sleeve.

“I wish I’d better explained a lot of things actually.  I mean, my performance in Casa Erotica was pretty legendary if I do say so myself, but I never intended for Sam to say ‘yes’ and jump.  I guess I don’t know what I intended in the end.  I just knew it was the only alternative to allowing my brothers their showdown.

“But I think of my encounters with the Winchester boys before then, and I see where I went wrong.  I knew who they were the very first time I saw them at that university.  It was just harmless fun back then–as a trickster, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with them a bit.

“It all went wrong at the Mystery Spot, though.  I didn’t understand Sam then, or the brothers’ relationship.  I thought if I could teach him to accept Dean death then maybe he wouldn’t be so vulnerable to manipulation.  Oh boy, did I get that one wrong!”

He gives a low whistle and shakes his head.

“Now that I know these boys, know who they are and how they work, I can see why all my plans failed.  I wish I could go back and do things differently, but,” he shrugs, “who’s to say it would have even changed anything?  We have to move forward from here.”

The archangel smiles, reaching out with his grace to check on his little family.  Castiel reaches back to reassure all is well, and Gabriel feels a tiny tendril of Sam’s grace wrap around them in his sleep.

“To answer your question, this is what I think about at night–the mistakes I’ve made in the past, and how I’ve been given a second chance.  I can’t change what I’ve done, but I can sure as hell learn from it, Sam deserves a future full of happiness and love and joy, and my Father has tasked me with the job of making sure he gets it.  I won’t fail again.”

anonymous asked:
Morpheus, on a scale from one to a gazillon.. How upset would you get, if someone were to dye your fur without your knowledge/permission? You do know that you are living amongst pranksters, don't you?

Upset?!  Morpheus snorts.  On a scale of one to a gazillion, I would be negative a googolplex.  Dying my fur would have no lasting effect on me.  As soon as I shift, it would return to normal.

I think you forget just how long I’ve been alive–and most of that time was spent with tiny scoundrels!  My fur has been dyed, braided, cut, and matted many times.  It has never bothered me.

Of course, he grins, I would remind my newest pup’s pack-flock that, should they decide to prank me in any way, then they best prepare themselves for a war of epic proportions. 

madgeer-chan asked:
Here I go again :D : Gabriel, what would you do when there are no sweets, cakes etc. in the bunker und you have no opportunity to go and get some?

“You’re assuming I have to go get them!”  Gabriel laughs and wiggles his fingers.  “If I can’t go get my sugar-fix from my favorite places, or the ingredients to make them myself, then I’d just snap them up.  I mean, hellooo–trickster and archangel here!  I can change the chemical composition of anything to suite my needs.”

He snaps his fingers, transforming a toothpick into cherry lollipop.

“The thing is, I like cooking and baking from scratch.  It keeps me grounded in the present.  I spent so many centuries bouncing from moment to moment, living for instant gratification.  But now?  I’ve got a flock to feed and care for, and that takes time.  It takes planning for the future.

“It may seem silly, but I’ve never really stayed in a place long enough to keep leftovers.  They’re like a small reminder that this is my home now.  That the things I did a few days ago are still important today.  And a kitchen stocked with fresh ingredients is proof that I plan to remain–a promise to myself and the others for the future.”

stormehwithcaissa asked:
Same anon as before, BMOL- just gonna point out real fast that this 'abomination' saved your sorry asses from a vengeful Lucifer- AND Michael. And believe me, no matter how prepared you are against a couple, you are not prepared against all of Heaven's armies. And the archangels.

“Oh, spare me,” Shepard snaps, “The only thing the Winchesters save the world from is each other.  And have you seen Heaven’s so-called armies?”

“A bunch of plucked chickens who can’t even fly,” Ms Watt scoffs.

“And what archangels are we supposed to fear exactly?” Shepard asks with a laugh.  “Last I checked, Raphael was dead and Michael was trapped in the Cage.  The ArchJoke is probably so far away by now that by the time he comes limping back, the Earth’s sun would have burnt out already.  And Lucifer?  I doubt he gives two shits about what we say about his vessel considering Sam threw his ass back into the Cage.”

The guard outside their cell snickers, catching the humans’ attention.

“Something funny over there, halo?” Ms Watt calls angrily.

“Yeah,” the guard says, walking over to them.  “Your information’s a little outdated there, human.”

“Well, why don’t you enlighten us then,” she challenges.

“Gabriel wasn’t the only archangel brought back by our Father,” the angel says with a grin, “And as you pointed out, we haven’t been able to fly.  So, who do you think brought you here?”

“What?”  Ms Watt sits up, the first trace of fear finally showing in her eyes.

“You heard me–God returned Michael and Raphael to us.  And rest assured, Gabriel has already made it back safely.”  The angel’s smile slips away and his eyes blaze with righteous anger.  “You should count yourselves lucky he survived unscathed.  Or maybe unlucky.  You not only harmed a fledgling–you took him from the Archangel of Justice, and our most creative brother.  What is it you humans say?  Oh, yes,” the angel leans closer to the bars, “Your fates are sealed.”

anonymous (stormehwithcaissa) asked:
Hey Chuck!  What would you do if you came across the BMOL?

Chuck looks up from his book and thinks for a moment before answering.

“I’d sneeze on them.  And when they suddenly wake up in Purgatory, they’d find themselves naked with only pool noodles as weapons.”

“Really, Brother?  You’d sneeze on them?” Amara asks in a bewildered tone.

“Snot is gross.”  Chuck shrugs and returns to his research.

godzgirlforever asked:
Dean, thoughts on Sammy being little again? How is this time around different from the first time for you?

“Dude, what isn’t different this time around?”  Dean scrubs at his face, smearing engine grease across his cheek and forehead.  “First of all, I’m not kid tryin’ to figure this shit out on my own as I go.  I’m an adult, livin’ the life of retirement–complete with an adult-like home and an adult car and an adult credit card under a fake-adult name.  Even if we weren’t surrounded by a bunch of super-powerful mother-henning angels, we’d still be just fine.

“Well, except for this grace stuff.  I don’t know jack about how to help Sammy there.  So, I guess it’s good we’ve got help from the God Squad…otherwise, Sam would’ve probably blown up the bunker because I’d pissed him off or something.”

Dean leans against his Baby, and crosses his arms over his chest as he thinks.

“It’s hard sometimes…seeing Sammy so small.  Remembering what we went through as kids–how helpless I felt when I could barely make him a bottle, and how scared I was that I’d mess it all up.  Mess him up.  I still worry about that now.

“Of course, if he heard me say that, he’d give me hell.  Insist he’s not a kid and that he’s technically older than me.  But he is a kid–he’s my kid.  Always was, always will be.  Size and age won’t change that.”

He suddenly uncrosses his arms and straightens up with a menacing frown.  “And I swear to Chuck, if Sam finds out I said any of this, I will lock the tattletale in my dungeon!”

anonymous asked:
Lucifer. Are your wings pink and glittery. Tumblr thinks so.

“Excuse me?” Lucifer hisses through blood-stained teeth and cracked lips.  Light the color of hellfire shines through the larger splits in his vessel’s skin.  The tight leather clothing seems to be the only thing keeping the body from bursting open.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he asks as he limps, slow and clumsy, across the room.  “And who is this ‘Tumblr,’ anyway?  They sound like the exact reason I wouldn’t bow down before your tiny, stupid, insignificant race.  My Father grants you an entire realm, free will, and every amenity imaginable, and you squander it away to contemplate if my wings are…’pink and glittery.’”

His voice rises in a mocking tone.  Flecks of blood spray with each word.  He takes a gurgling breath and rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to relieve them of a great painful weight.

“You could not comprehend my wings even if you had the ability to see them.  They are comprised of colors beyond your known spectrum.  Do not insult me with your petty questions.”

xkissmeimirishx asked:
Hey Morph! I was just wondering if Sam is the most interesting charge you've had when it comes to species? I know a little fledgling with a human soul is really unique but so are you so I'm sure you've seen some things in your lifetime! Also, I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of Sammy. He needs you a lot more than he realizes right now.

Well, I suppose you could say Sam is the most unique charge I’ve ever had, considering he’s the only one of his kind to ever exist.  And he does present more challenges than most children.  But at the end of the day, kids are kids.  I’ve cared for hundreds of pups–the children of gods, humans, werewolves, vampires, giants, cyclops.  The list goes on.

Many come to me because their young ones need help beyond what their parents and caregivers can handle.  Some are the targets of enemies.  Some are enemies to themselves.  No matter the circumstance, though, they are all still children–and all children have needs.

Sam is no different in that regard.  He needs someone he can trust, because his trust has been destroyed by others.  He needs someone who will listen, because his words and desires were ignored in the past.  He needs someone who can see him as their priority without the burden of guilt, because he sees others’ caring for him as a sacrifice on their part.

I can easily and gladly be that someone for Sam.  You do not need to thank me, although I am happy to hear there are others who care for this pup.  Seeing him healing and happy is all I want–and we are getting there.

**TW: deals with consent, implied past torture and sexual assault**

anonymous asked:
Raphael, how do you think you'll proceed with the healing of Samuel? While he refuses your help, he still needs it, and so far you've patiently awaited his consent, but what will you do if the time becomes dire and he needs healing and he isn't able to consent?

“That is a hard question to answer, and I hope I never have to decide,” Raphael says slowly, taking a seat by the firepit.  “The issue of consent is not something I take lightly.  As a Healer, I must consider the mind and spirit as much as the body.  To take something from, or do something to, a person without permission is a terrible abuse.

“Samuel has already suffered the indignity of having his consent stripped away on multiple occasions.  There were large, obvious acts–Azazel feeding him demon blood as an infant, his possession by a demon, Gadreel taking him as a vessel, the things–” Raphael’s voice cuts off as sudden burst of emotion tightens his throat.  He forces himself to swallow, then continues.  “The things my brothers did to him in the Cage.  These are all events that clearly demonstrate a lack of consent

“But it is the smaller, less obvious events that have taught Samuel to believe that his consent is unimportant.  As a child, his every move was dictated by a father who sought to control him.  Samuel was told his desires and needs were selfish and unworthy until the only choice left to him was stay and submit or leave and be disowned.

“As an adult, he has been chained, caged, beaten, strangled, and held by countless creatures and humans.  He spent years being manipulated by both heaven and hell.  And when he unknowingly fulfilled their goals, he sacrificed himself.  He remains proud of his decision, despite all the pain he suffered as a consequence, because it was his choice.  A choice no one could take away from him.  He overthrew Lucifer to make that choice.”

Raphael stares into the fire, marveling at the determination of his fierce little fledgling.  Had that persistence been nurtured in his childhood, how strong would Samuel’s will be now?  The Healer shudders at the thought.

“I have worked hard to gain Samuel’s trust. By asking for his consent in the little things, I hope to prove I am worthy of that trust.  But should the occasion arise that he is unable to give his consent, due to unconsciousness or his grace surging out of control, I will do the same as any ethically-minded human physician.  I will consult his flock, and treat him until he is able to decide for himself again.  And I would pray he understands.”

youarentreadingthis asked:
Gabriel, are you happy?

“Am I happy?  Am I happy?!”  Gabriel laughs in delight.  “Happy is soooo not strong enough a word for what I am now.

“Happy is what I feel when I’m eating fresh baked goods from a local bakery.  Or doling out creative justice to some asswipe.  Or, I don’t know, seeing something cheesy and beautiful like puppies and rainbows

“But this–what I’m feeling now?  Happy doesn’t begin to describe it.

“I have a flock who accepts me–not just Loki the trickster god, or Gabriel the archangel, but all the little bits in between.  My closest brother, the first face I saw after my Father’s own, is here by my side.  I get to cook meals for my favorite humans and the only angel who’s learned to appreciate food as much as me.  And I have been gifted with the honor of caring for the first fledgling since the creation of humanity.”

Gabriel blinks rapidly, grinning through the tears without shame.

“I have purpose again–a reason to exist.  I’m not just happy.  I’m content, floating on pure bliss.  I’m joy, fully realized.  I’m blessed.”

anonymous asked:
Hey, Luci, remember stabbing Gabriel? How do ya feel now that he's back? Also, you do know that MIchael and the others still love you and want you back, right? You're still loved, dude. Don't be bitter about your new lil bro. (you gotta lot of making up to do, though...)

“Do I remember stabbing Gabriel, my closest brother after only Michael himself?  Do I remember the look in his eyes when he realized what I’d done, and then seeing that look burn away in a flash of grace?  Do I remember holding his empty vessel in my arms, knowing I’d caused the blackened wings on the ground at my feet?”

Lucifer turns away, his fists clenching.  Blood drips from between his fingers from the effort to keep his emotions in check.  It isn’t working.

“I am glad,” he says through clenched teeth, “for Gabriel’s return.  I did not wish him dead, even as I killed him.  I never wanted any of this.  But what I wanted has never mattered

“I wanted to please my Father–prove to Him that I was as strong and worthy as He believed me to be.  So, I took His damned Mark and locked away the Darkness so His creations might continue existing in peace.  But the Darkness was too strong for even the Lightbringer.

“No one seemed to notice their Morningstar dimming, consumed from within.  They called me rebellious and spiteful.  And my Father cast me out like I was some defected creation.  Locked me away–just like the leviathans, just like his own fucking sister.  Out of sight so He couldn’t be reminded of His own failings.

“Even worse, He made Michael do His dirty work.  I never thought…”

Lucifer stops, unable to say aloud the things he could barely think about.  Blood now runs freely from his hands to the growing pools by his feet.  He doesn’t care.

“Why you are telling me these things?  Why insist that Michael loves me–that anyone loves me?  I don’t even know what it means to be loved anymore.  And I no longer have the energy for bitterness.  I just don’t care.”

darksilveraster asked:
Lucifer, what is your favorite memory from before you rebelled, and how do you feel about all your siblings now? Do you intend to reconcile with them anytime soon?

“I did not rebel,” Lucifer says coldly.  “You humans all think you know my story–you small-minded apes who have no understanding of your own histories.  You think you understand events that happened in another realm eons before your creation?  How quaint.”

The cabin he’s taking refuge in has long been abandoned–broken furniture and dust are all that remains.  He perches on the edge of an old table.  

“The question you should be asking is, ‘what is my favorite memory from before I was branded with the Mark.’  To which I would answer, ‘everything.’  Every single second, from the moment of my creation to the moment the Mark touched my grace, were my favorite.”

A rare smile lifts the corners of his mouth–genuine and warm, without a trace of his usual cynicism.

“I remember my earliest days with Michael, before we were joined by Raphael and Gabriel.  We belonged to each other on a fundamental level.  We explored the limits of our grace, and shared in the joy of discovery.  Our Father watched us grow, encouraging us in our adventures.  Looking back, I think He was just as excited as we were.

“So much has changed since then.  I don’t know how I feel about my younger siblings anymore.  They have become mindless sheep during my time in the Cage.  I hardly recognize them as angels–they are practically human without their wings or leadership.  Of course, Dad’s decision to return my fellow archangels to their former glory may change that.  Maybe.”

Lucifer’s smile turns sharp as he leans forward.  “As far as reconciling goes–well, we will just have to wait and see, won’t we?  Anything’s possible in this brave new world.”

madgeer-chan asked:
This is a question for all angels: How does your trueform fit in such a small vessel? And isn't it a bit scary that an angels trueform can easily be much bigger than a building? Just imagine standing on the ground and looking up o.o

A hush falls over Heart Hall.  Then, the murmurs begin as the angels whisper to each other.

“Scary?”
"Do they know how tiny their buildings are?”
“Looking up?  What do they think it’s like looking down from above?”
“Are the humans scared of their buildings?  I never knew that…”

One angel rushes forward, dropping papers from the stack he carries.  “Oh! I can explain about the true-forms!!  Grace mechanics are my thing.  You see…”

“Neil!  Joshua’s calling for you,” an angel in a female vessel says, stopping his diatribe, “Go back to the Garden.”

“Oh, right.”  He disappears through the crowd, papers still flying one-by-one from his arms.

The woman sighs.  “Never ask an Architect about grace unless you have years to spare.  They tend to babble.  Now, I can explain the basics of how we are capable of inhabiting vessels, but I can’t guarantee your comprehension.

“As one of our kind so famously said, angels actually are multidimensional beings of celestial intent.  We do not have a physical form as you understand it.  Think of it as bottling light.

“Or consider a reversed metaphor.  Take a projector, for instance–a tiny picture on a slice of film, lit from behind, can be projected onto a surface.  That picture, once the size of your thumbnail, is now massive enough to cover several stories of a building.  You see it every time you go to one of your ‘movie theaters.’

“It is a similar concept.  We are the light, and the picture.  It just so happens that our light is made of grace, which tends to burn though humans whose bodies are not of a certain bloodline.  Just as the wrong kind of bulb might burn through the film.”  The angel smiles.  “Does that answer your question?”

A commotion parts the crowd, revealing a flustered Neil.  His stack of papers has significantly diminished in his trek through Heaven.  “Joshua says he did not call for me,” he tells her with a knowing frown.

“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised.  “My mistake.”

anonymous asked:
Castiel... You must've noticed that the Winchesters love you; that you ARE a part of their family.. I just wanted to ask: How are you holding up with everything?

“How am I holding what up, exactly?” Castiel asks, his eyes narrowing in confusion.  “And what does my ‘holding up’ have to do with being loved?  I do not underst–oh.”  A blush creeps across his face as he remembers the meaning of the phrase.  “You are asking about my emotional well-being.  I am doing fine, thank you.”

Raphael groans from the next room.  You have been around the Winchesters for too long, little brother.  I am ready to purge the word ‘fine’ from their vocabulary!

Castiel scowls, knowing the archangel cannot see him.  There is nothing wrong with the word ‘fine.’  Many humans use it to convey their mental state.  And the question was not directed at you, so I do not see why you feel the need to interfere with my answer.

I would not need to interfere if you spoke with more honesty and clarity.  And mind yourself, Castiel–I can feel your scowl from here.  You are being a bad example for Samuel, Raphael says with mock-sternness.

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise, all traces of his frown disappearing.  How do you–  He turns and sees Sam peeking in through the doorway, a sly grin lighting up his face.  “Traitor,” Castiel whispers.

“Keep practicing, Cas,” Sam calls over his shoulder as he runs away, “and maybe one day your bitchface will be as good as mine!”

Castiel smiles, hearing the sound of wind-chimes echo in the boy’s wake.  A fledgling’s laugh is as magical as music, and twice as powerful.  The seraph wishes he heard it more often.

“I have spent my life feeling out of place, even among the garrisons,” he says quietly.  “I never expected to find my purpose when I flew into Hell.  But dragging Dean Winchester’s soul back to Earth set me on a path that has led to this very moment.

“I made many mistakes along the way, but I now know who I am, and where I belong.  I feel more like an angel than ever before, here with the Winchesters and Gabriel.  You are correct–I am loved, just as I love them.

“I never knew a mother’s love before Mary.  I never knew the love of a flock before Gabriel.  I never knew love could inspire so fierce a desire to protect and cherish another living being before Sam.  And I never knew–” Castiel takes a shuddering breath as his blush returns with a venance, “I never knew that I could be loved before Dean.

“So, yes,” he says, his voice growing louder so listening ears could hear, “I am fine!”

scrollingkingfisher asked:
Hey Raphael, what would you have done differently in the apocalypse if you could go back and do it again? Also, why are you so mean to the poor narrator? :P

“That would depend on a great many factors, my friend,” Raphael says.  He walks slowly along the treeline behind the bunker, relishing the cool grass on his bare feet.  “At what point in the Apocalypse would I find myself?  Before Lucifer and Michael’s showdown?  Before Lucifer kills Gabriel?  Before Samuel breaks the last seal and frees Lucifer?  Before Dean Winchester makes his deal?  Or perhaps where it all began–before Azazel force-fed demon blood to an infant Samuel?

“There are so many places along the path where events could have been altered.  So many forks in the road that have led us here today.  Who is to say I would be capable of altering our destination by traveling a different way?

“But for the sake of speculation, let us assume I find myself returned to the moment Castiel raises Dean Winchester from Hell.  Knowing what I do now, I would do everything differently.  My first priority would be to keep the Winchesters safe from Heaven’s manipulations.  And to do that, I would need Gabriel.  They didn’t necessarily trust one another back then, but they did know each other.  And Gabriel is proficient in creating secure pocket dimensions.

“Then, I would work on reminding Michael of our purpose.  It would not be easy–I did not have much influence on him even then. He was so lost without–”

Raphael cuts off abruptly.  Realization dawns on him, and he shakes his head.  A deep, rolling laugh echoes through the woods.

“Actually, none of that would be necessary.  Assuming I replace my past-self when I travel back in time,” he gives a devious grin, “then I would find myself in possession of one Chuck Shurley–Prophet and Father-in-hiding.  And after I slapped Him sober, He and I would sit down for a long overdue chat.

“As to your second question–I am sure I have no idea what you mean,” he says in a tone of pure innocence.  “Your friend was clearly in need of a muse, and I have experience with writers.  Sometimes, they just need a little encouragement.”

**TW: brief mention of self-harm/suicidal thoughts**

scrollingkingfisher asked:
Hey Morpheus! I know that you're often charged with looking after and guarding children. Have you ever heard of the zana before? Have you ever worked with them?

I’ve run into the Zanna on several occasions, but never worked with them.  They are a fun race and wonderful at what they do.  But we have very different methods.

Zanna are secretive by nature, often appearing as imaginary friends to lonely children.  They hide their presence from adults and other children.  I am not exactly able to turn myself invisible, nor would I want to.

I have a very strict “no secrets” policy.  I am brought in by parents or caretakers to help guide or guard their children.  And while I do everything in my power to never break a child’s trust, there have been a few times where I did.  It was only in the most severe cases involving those who hurt themselves or who expressed a desire to die.  The child’s safety and sanity comes first–always.

There are so many children in need in this world, it is better that we don’t overlap our efforts.  The Zanna are good at what they do, and I’m grateful for their work.  I hope to meet the one they call “Sully” one day, and thank him for taking care of Sam when no one else was around.

anonymous asked:
Gabriel.. May I give you a hug? (I know I'm just a mortal, but I think you need one...) Anyway, what I was supposed to ask was: If someone were to instigate a Prank War within the Flock.. How do you see it playing out? Who would you most likely team up with?

“Are you kidding?  I freaking love hugs!  And ‘just a mortal,’ my ass!  Mortals have done way more for this world than any other deities or immortal creatures out there.  Believe me–I’d know.

“Now, concerning this Prank War,” his face splits in a sly grin, “I just so happen to have multiple plans of attack I’m currently forming.”

The archangel snaps his fingers and a large paper flip-board appears on an easel next to him.  It is filled with charts, diagrams, and tiny cut-outs of all the bunker inhabitants’ faces.  There also seems to be smears of chocolate and a dusting of sugar coating most of the pages.

“As far as instigating goes, that’s all me.  I’ll be damned if I let one of the Winchester brats, or Dad-forbid Cassie, get the jump on me.  Besides, I doubt any of them would be willing to start anything, because, duh, TRICKSTER!

“Teams would depend on who all decides to join.  It could go angels vs humans–in which case, I would lay claim to Sam and Morpheus.  If it breaks down into multiple teams, I’m thinking it would be Team ME vs Team Lovebirds vs Team WolfChild.  Or it might just end up a free-for-all.  Who knows with this crowd!”

“What are you doing, brother?” Castiel asks from the kitchen doorway, a bizarre expression on his face.

“Cassie!!  No peeking, you cheat!” Gabriel yells.  He snaps again and the charts disappear.

“But…what did you do?” Castiel asks in astonishment, his eyes tracing the outline of Gabriel’s form.

“What are you talking about, bro?  I haven’t done any–”

A flash of brilliant colors catches Gabriel’s eye.  It’s his wings.  His wings that are no longer gold, but every color in the rainbow.  His wings that Raphael had just finished grooming an hour earlier.

“Oh,” he says breathlessly.  “I’m gonna kill him.  Forget teams.  Come on, Cas–we’ve got an archangel to bedazzle in glitter.”

anonymous asked:
Hey Gabriel, I don't have any questions, but can I also get a hug? Today's been a rough day for me

“Abso-fuckin-lutely!!”  Gabriel assures, laughing through the words.  “Do I need to smite anyone?  You just say the word, sweetheart, and I will reign down vengeance the likes of which they’d never recover from.  I’m talking glitterbombs 24/7 for a month–that should be enough to stick with them for the rest of their earthly existence.”

His arms are so much stronger than they appear, and his whole vessel radiates warmth and security.  Invisible wings join his arms, feeling like a summer breeze stirring the air.  It carries a hint of honey, sweet and faint.  All together, it’s like being wrapped in pure sunshine.

“You know, I never thought there’d come a day when humans would seek me out for hugs.  Maybe I spent too much time focused on being the archangel of Justice and too little on being His Messenger,” Gabriel whispers, tightening his arms.  “I’m sorry you had a rough day.  But you are incredible, you know that?  You have to be to survive in this world–to face everything life has to throw at you, and all you ask for is a hug.

“Maybe it could be a new role for angels–Dad knows we’ve got Guardians, and Architects, and more soldiers than we probably need.  We could use a few angels of Affection.  Cuddle Cupids?  Cherub Cherishers?  Well, we can work on the name later.

“For now, just know this–you are loved.  You are precious.  You are adored by angels.  And that’s a lot of adoring, in case you didn’t know.  So, hang in there, okay?”

**TW: deals with loss/mourning/grief of a family member**

foreverstrongandneverbackdown asked:
Raphael, I know we're supposed to ask questions and I don't know if this counts as one, but I was wondering if I could maybe get a hug? I just recently lost my uncle to cancer and well, he always looked to you for help when the going got rough and it did get real rough. And I don't know if it's true or not but I want to thank you too, for being there for him when it seemed that no one else could be.

“I am so sorry to hear of your uncle’s passing,” Raphael says softly, “Cancer is an awful disease that corrupts a body without discriminating between sinners and saints.”

The archangel’s arms are steady as stone, yet soft as silk.  He feels warm, like stretching across sun-baked earth.  A kaleidoscope of white and emerald light dances across the ground.  The air shimmers, filling with the aroma of honeysuckle and frankincense.  Peace settles around him–a peace that passes understanding, and a love so pure it is almost painful.

“I hope he found comfort in my presence.  So few humans remember me these days, but I am here with whatever healing I may provide, though there are some things beyond even my abilities.  Rest assured–I may not have been able to heal his body, know that his spirit is stronger than ever.  He is now in the realm of Heaven, under the protection of my brothers.  He may live out his days in quiet solitude with only a select few souls, or he may join with the other humans who are working to better Heaven for all.”

Raphael smiles, and his voice drops into a deeper rumble.  “Or perhaps he has taken up with Fat Louy and they are creating their own mischief together.  I can check on them both, if you’d like, next time I visit Heaven.  Just leave a note on your windowsill or under a tree, and I will pass your messages along.  I cannot take the paper with me into Heaven, but your words will reach his ears–I promise.

“And remember to take care of yourself, my friend!” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes, “Your kindness, your creativity, your beauty, and your strength all serve to change this world for the better.  So, be kind and patient with yourself.  This world needs you.”

iwillinterrogatethecat asked:
Castiel, your brothers, especially Gabriel, insist that you missed your calling as a caretaker back in the day. Do you agree now that you have gotten to experience a little of that side with Sam? And how do you feel about the situation that your friend is a child, shape-wise and grace-wise?

"I do not know,” Castiel says, sighing as he sits at the picnic table outside the bunker.  “I had almost no interaction with fledglings in Heaven before the final generation was created and humanity then began.  I have no experience to compare this to.  So, I am not sure if my desire to protect and nurture Sam is due to his newly acquired grace, or if it because I know and care for Sam himself.

“The Winchesters have always had this kind of powerful effect on me.  When I first met Sam, I had many misconceptions about him.  We had all been told that he was destined for Lucifer–that he was ‘the boy with demon blood’ and therefore incapable of redemption.  But that was untrue.  I knew it was untrue the moment he reached out his hand and I took it.  His spirit screamed for mercy through the darkness.  I have never known another soul so intent on helping those who have shown him nothing but pain.

“And now…now that soul has been fused back together with my Father’s grace.  It calls to me, makes me want to wrap him in my wings and never let anything in this world touch him again.  But at the same time, I feel like I understand him in ways I never could before.

“Perhaps it is because his grace allows me to read what once he kept hidden.  Sam has always been an intensely private person, and having all his emotions and thoughts projected has been difficult for him.  Or maybe it is because we are similar in so many ways.  I do not know.

“Seeing my once-towering-friend condensed down into so small a form is disconcerting at times.  But it makes me realize how often I took his size for granted.  His size gave him so much strength that I often forgot the pain hidden below the surface.  And as my own grace diminished over the years, I failed to notice how broken he’d become.  I felt it, though–when Lucifer touched his soul from within my vessel, I felt Sam’s pain and it allowed me to push Lucifer aside momentarily.  Then, everything happened so fast, and suddenly Sam was a fledgling.

“I will never forget seeing him for the first time in his new form.  He stood in that hallway, shaking from nerves and cold, dressed only in an adult t-shirt.  His infant-grace overwhelmed his once-human senses, and he almost fell trying to run.  And I just held him.  It was like the first time all over again, only instead of a soul screaming for mercy, it was grace reaching for assurance.”

Castiel stared down at his hands, lost in contemplation.  His hands had touched Sam’s soul multiple times.  They had once plunged inside his body and found only a void where the soul should have been.  They had both healed and destroyed Sam Winchester.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve this life, but I do know that I will do everything in my power to keep it.  Sam and Dean are my family–the family I chose, and who chose me.  And now, it has grown to include Mary and Gabriel.  No one, including Michael or Chuck Himself, could make me give them up.”

anonymous asked:
So Sam........ How's learning to ride Morpheus going? I remember when I took lessons to ride horses when I was younger, and I was so sore the day after. I bet it's about the same for you.

“Well, I never had horse riding lessons, but I did have to ride a horse for hours when Dean and I went back in time to the old west.  It was awful,” Sam says with a grimace, “and sore doesn’t begin to describe that experience.

"But riding Morpheus is nothing like that.  I’m practically sitting on a moving pillow instead of a saddle.  And his gait doesn’t bounce me around as much.  Plus, we haven’t really made it to ‘running’ yet, so that’s been good.

“Don’t get me wrong–I am still sore.  But it’s from my muscles working to keep me upright and in place.  I’m not chaffing against hard leather.”

Sam looks around, making sure the others aren’t listening in.  He finds the coast is clear, but still drops his voice down to a whisper.

“Actually, it’s a lot of fun.  Everything about Morpheus is great!  I’ve always wanted a dog, but even when I’ve managed to have one for a short time it was always mixed with guilt or sadness.  I could never enjoy them fully because they were reminders of what I’d lost or left behind.  But Morpheus?  I’ve never had a friend like him.  I mean, talking dogs are what kids daydream about, right?  And now I have one.  Well, I don’t have him, because he’s his own person, but you know what I mean.”

Sam blushes as he grins, and scratches nervously at the back of his neck. 

“So, it’s…yeah, it’s great.  He’s great.  Riding is great, even when I’m sore.  But don’t tell the angels.  They already hover over me, waiting to heal every tiny scrape and bruise they can find.  I don’t need them checking me for ‘sore muscles’ on top of everything else!”

graceless-queen-of-falling asked:
Hi!! This is for Zadkiel and the other Angel's guarding the little flock. How do you all really feel about guarding Sam, who was once meant to be Lucifer's vessel? We all know what Zadkiel spoke to Raphael about, but was that all that you felt?

Zadkiel, the angel of mercy, smiles shyly.  “I admit, I was surprised to learn the identity of the fledgling we’d been sent to watch over.  But even from a distance, it’s been easy to grow attached to the little guy.”   His vessel’s flaming red curls flop forward into his eyes as he looks down toward the bunker grounds.  He sees the flock lounging around the fire, and his gaze softens.  “Like I told Raphael, I’d often heard Sam’s prayers when he was a human child.  I already felt like I knew a side of him my brothers and sisters didn’t see.  And with everything I’ve learned about him since then…I guess I feel like we’ve all been given a second chance alongside Sam.”

“Well, I’m absolutely beside myself!” Nuriel beams from her branch in the treetops.  “I swear, I never thought I’d see the day when we’d have another fledgling.  I don’t care who he was intended to be–that baby made his choice, and it saved us all from eternal warfare.”  Her smile slips as she looks away from the little flock and picks at the bark on her branch.  “I can’t imagine a fledgling carrying around memories from the Cage.  My entire existence used to be wrapped up in caring for little angels, and I’d cry when they’d get little bruises on their grace while learning to fly.  Just seeing him down there, knowing he’s scared of me…I don’t know what to do.  Part of me wants to scoop him up and take him to Heaven where I know demons and humans can’t reach him.  But the rest of me knows that really wouldn’t be appreciated.  So, I’ll wait until his flock calls us down, and try to prove to him that angels can be trustworthy.”

Sariel, the top warrior of Heaven and Michael’s own personal guard, listens silently.  She stands perfectly still on the edge of a branch, always ready for action.  When she speaks, her eyes do not stop searching the sky and surrounding grounds for any potential threats.  “I was surprised to learn that the fledgling we’d all heard was Samuel Winchester.  And while I was not happy to lose Michael to the Cage for so long, I must admit that the archangel who returned to us is not the same who led us through the Apocalypse.  And that is a good thing. I had not seen that Michael in a very long time.
“As far as Samuel is concerned, I have been watching him for several days now.  He is not the person I thought him to be.  Seeing him more scared of us than of the King of Hell was quite…upsetting.  I hope we have the chance to change that.  He deserves to be happy and healthy.  In the meantime, we shall keep him safe and leave the ‘happy’ to those he trusts.”

godzgirlforever asked:
Sammy, is there anything you like about being small again?

“That’s a good question…way better than asking me what I don’t like about being small, because you’d be stuck here for days listening to me bitch.”

Sam scowls at his hands, holding them up and turning them over in the light.

“I mean, look at these things!  They’re tiny, and pink, and practically useless.  I can barely hold my phone and button my clothes–forget holding a weapon!”

He ducks his head down, eyes darting back and forth.  If anyone heard him even mentioning his inability to use weapons, he’d be in for an evening of lectures and disapproving looks.

“But that’s not what you asked,” he says in a quieter voice, picking at the hem of his pants as he thinks the question over.  “Honestly, I don’t really know how to answer.  I guess Dean and I are kinda closer.  He’s decided to retire from hunting, but we’ll see how long that lasts.  He seems more relaxed now that we have a whole team here.  Or family.  Or flock.  Or whatever you want to call it.

“And it’s nice having Mom here.  I-I never knew her.  Never knew what it was like to have a mom.  I suppose that’s not really an answer though since she’d probably be here whether or not I was small.  But maybe it would have been different if I’d still been adult-sized.  Harder, for sure, to suddenly find herself with two full-grown sons.

“Cas and Gabriel are also big changes.  I mean, we’ve had Cas around for a while now, but he seems different now.  More open.  Definitely more touchy…as in, he is always touching my hair or hugging me.  Gabriel’s the same, but I think that was always part of his nature.  And while it’s weird to have someone besides Dean touching me, I guess it’s kinda nice now that I’m getting used to it.

“Of course, I blame the whole grace-thing.  Raphael says my grace will want to interact with other angels, so maybe that’s why.  All I know is it’s taken a few fights, and a couple titty-twisters for Dean, to convince folks not to keep carrying me.”

Sam sighs, rubbing his palms against his pant legs.

“I guess I’m still getting used to all the changes.  Being small mostly makes me feel helpless and useless.  Having grace makes me feel out-of-control, like all my emotions are constantly on the surface.  I’m having to learn how to function in a whole new way.

“But I like having a family–and I don’t know if I’d have most of them if I wasn’t small.  Who knows if Chuck would have brought back Gabriel.  Who knows if Mom would have stuck around with two strange adult men.  Hell, even Cas might have gone off and gotten into some new mess by now!” Sam shrugs.  “So, yeah, I guess the thing I like most about being small is that it’s keeping the people I care about close.  And if that’s what it takes to keep us together, then I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”