Chapter Text
He is weightless, soaring effortlessly through the air. Flying. He’s never flown before, has he? No, that’s not right, he’s flown countless times before, it’s as natural as breathing. Does he need to breathe? Wings stretch out from his being, light feathers ruffling in the wind, spanning across the expanse of the sky. Those are new, he thinks, but maybe he’s always had them. He flaps them experimentally, and the sensation is both unusual and more familiar than anything else. He’s never felt this before, he’s felt it near constantly, it’s been eons since he’s felt it…
Existence is a contradiction, and maybe he should just stop overthinking it and just let it be.
Radiance spills from him, seeming to pulse brighter as a thrill works its way through him. Without realising it, the world around him bends to his feelings, and his pure delight is bathing everything around him in a warm, brilliant light. Creation would part to make way for him, it would wrap him in its embrace, it was there to bend to his whims, and he rewards it with his luminous presence.
Another figure comes into view, emanating a radiance of its own, not quite as bright as his, but glowing with a different sort of warmth. They greet each other with a familiarity unique to creatures with a bond such as theirs. Their joy causes that light to glow even brighter, would be blinding if it were possible for them to go blind. They circle one another, twisting in the air with fluid, effortless movements, dazzling the very atmosphere around them. This goes on for some time – minutes, hours, or maybe even a lifetime – and though they never grow tired, something unspoken beckons them to land.
It's a clearing in a forest, the grass lush and thick, trees towering overhead and forming a barrier between them and the rest of the world. Everything around them is green, a brilliant emerald hue, and they feel comfort together in this little corner of Creation. Nothing exists that could pose a threat to them, they did not need protection, but sometimes in these small, isolated pockets, they could experience a sense of peace that felt more pronounced here than anywhere else.
And, with that peace, they find themselves clinging to each other, wrapping each other in their wings, sharing in a moment so profound that no number of songs or poems or epic stories could ever begin to properly capture.
It was with great reluctance that Sam allowed himself to return to consciousness, letting out a soft groan as he slowly crawled his way out of that deep, peaceful sleep. On the bed across from him, his brother’s eyes flickered open, seeming to be just as hesitant as he was to rejoin the waking world. A lazy smile spread across Dean’s features.
“Morning, Sammy,” he slurred, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“Hey, Dean.”
“Man, I had some of the craziest dreams last night.” Dean’s movements were slow and sluggish as he pulled himself into a sitting position, apparently having no intention of getting out of bed just yet.
Images from the night before, from both sleep and wakefulness, started returning to Sam, bringing with them a slew of curious emotions that he couldn’t quite pin down. “Oh yeah?” He chewed his lip, avoiding eye contact with his brother. How the hell was he supposed to even begin to talk about last night’s visitor? “Me too…”
The change in Dean was instant, eyes snapping open and immediately alert as his muscles coiled, readying him for action at a moment’s notice. He must have seen something in Sam’s expression to react like that. “What, like another nightmare?”
“No, no, not exactly.” Sam was quick to reassure Dean, who relaxed just a touch, but it wasn’t enough to smooth the crease in his brow or the tense set of his jaw. “No, I’m okay, but…” It felt a little bit ridiculous. They had so much work to do, so little time to waste, but Sam was feeling vulnerable in a way that ached in an unfamiliar fashion that he somehow also knew far too well. “Do you mind if I…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, but his eyes landed on Dean’s bed, next to where he was sitting, and he glanced up with what he was sure was a pleading look on his face.
Dean softened even more, smiling as he shuffled over a bit on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Yeah, sure thing Sammy.”
No teasing. No hesitation. No judgement. Just an invitation. Sam was surprised, but he didn’t dwell on that.
He’d been taller than Dean for years now, but he was still somehow able to slot in next to him just like he had when they were younger, their bodies finding a way to fit together like puzzle pieces. Sam’s head resting on Dean’s chest, Dean’s arm draped over Sam’s shoulders, fingers sometimes working their way up to fiddle with his hair. Occasionally, that led to a remark about how he really should cut it, feeding into a lighthearted back and forth. The rise and fall of Dean’s chest soothing Sam, gently rocking him, the sound of the beating heart beneath his ear pounding out a lullaby. It felt so easy, so natural.
There was something else there, too, something that had always been there, but Sam hadn’t noticed it until now. He’d always been close to Dean, but he couldn’t deny the way that, sometimes, they seemed to be a little bit more in tune with each other than most, even when they were at odds. Back at Stanford, he’d occasionally had dreams about Dean. Sometimes their dad was there as well because he usually saw them hunting, but John was never quite as clear as his brother, and he never showed up in the quieter moments. For all his strength and bravado, Dean carried pain, and Sam would occasionally catch glimpses of his vulnerability.
Were those dreams just dreams? Or was he actually peeking into Dean’s life while they were apart? His psychic abilities always seemed to be tied to Azazel, but maybe his bond with his brother transcended that…
“Y’know,” Dean mused, snapping Sam out of his reverie, “I don’t think I’ve slept that well, since… ever. It’s definitely not these shitty mattresses, that’s for sure, but I mean hey, I ain’t complaining.”
“Uhh, yeah, that’s ‘cause of Gabriel.”
Once again, Dean’s entire body stiffened, pulling him closer, gripping him tighter, eyes hard and determined. “What? Gabriel? That son of a bitch – how? Was he here? Did you see him? What did he do?”
Sam shifted to meet his gaze, doing his best to placate that concern. “Dean! Relax, it’s okay, yeah, he was here, but he – it’s not what you think.” He hadn’t had the chance to think through how he was going to approach the subject with Dean, and seeing the suspicion still in his eyes, he knew he’d have to think fast.
“Oh yeah? Considering everything he’s done to us, sorry if I don’t exactly trust that. You sure he didn’t do something to your head, that he’s not still messing with you somehow?”
Sensing the edge that didn’t want to leave Dean’s voice, Sam shifted so his hands rested on his brother’s shoulders and their eyes could lock on each other, finding comfort in anything and everything they could sense behind them. He breathed a few deep, heavy breaths, doing all he could to soothe Dean the way he’d soothed Sam endless times in the past. “I’ll explain everything. It’s alright, I promise. He just… came to talk. He left us something – a video of some kind? – that apparently has some information that might… well, he didn’t seem particularly keen on it, but I think he wants to try and help us stop, well, the Apocalypse.”
He hadn’t even noticed that Dean had pulled him back to their initial position until his snort reverberated through Sam’s skull. “Sure. Yeah. Of all the dickheads that make up the so-called Holy Host, the Archangel who branded himself ‘The Trickster,’ who ran away from his responsibility, who apparently just doesn’t care about what happens next… he’s the one who wants to help us? You sure you weren’t just having nightmares, Sam?”
But he knows more than anything, a truth that rings so absolute right down to his very core, that his interaction the night before had been genuine. Even though he hadn’t quite processed everything or figured out what it all meant, he did know that it happened, and if he could just get Dean to listen, then they could sort through it all together.
“I’m sure, Dean,” he insisted. “We can check the TV, and – he also left a calling card. Should be on the bedside table...”
Somehow he knew that Dean’s eyes had landed on the card sitting so innocuously just below the lamp, and the way the elder Winchester relaxed was enough to soothe Sam into a state of contentment. He settled even further into the warmth of his brother’s embrace, and their breaths seemed to fall back into a steady, synchronised rhythm.
He couldn’t help but ponder the way he’d been drawn to Gabriel the night before. It had felt so abrupt. One moment they were simply talking, the next, it was as though they’d become magnets, pulled together by pure force of nature. He hadn’t protested, despite his confusion and apprehension. The moment they’d made contact, however, Sam could instantly feel the sparks, desperate to communicate something ancient and incomprehensible. Some things slipped through, however, and he’d felt – so intimately – the loneliness that Gabriel had been carrying for all this time. Filling those holes with found family had done an incredible job of keeping him occupied and somewhat fulfilled, but with the Cage open and angels of all sorts swarming the Earth, Sam could sense the nearly overwhelming pressure Gabriel felt day in and day out.
Their time was running out. He could feel his heart beating a touch faster, and he stiffened as his breaths came in shallower gasps than they had before. He did not consciously register the way that Dean had shifted his grip, the way his rough, calloused fingers combed through his hair, but it was still enough to keep him from falling and spiralling into a state of despair.
“We… really should watch that video. Figure out our next steps.”
The chuckle that shook Dean’s chest was dry, little to no humour in it at all. “Well, kid, I know you’re eager to sacrifice yourself and all, but the Apocalypse can wait.” He moved to shift them both deeper beneath the covers, finding a much more comfortable position next to one another. “Gabriel or not. Angels or no angels. Michael, Lucifer, who the fuck ever… I’m here for you, Sammy. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”
Despite everything, he found himself unable to form any coherent words. There was still so much to say, still so much to do, but if Dean said it could wait, well, then surely it could wait. The only response he could manage was a somewhat garbled acknowledgement that rumbled in his throat, and it was only then that he realised just how deep he’d sunk into Dean’s chest. They were so very warm, the scratchy motel sheets enveloping them in a way that felt far more tender than the Earthly fibres had any right to.
“Let’s – let’s just sit together for a little bit, yeah?” Dean’s words weren’t quite slurring, but they did come out laced in lethargy. They both needed just a little bit longer in their reprieve, and thank whatever deity was out there jerking them around that his prayers had gone answered, just this once. “Gabriel? Ha – he’s a prick. Who cares what he does? If he really wants to help, well, after everything? He can prove it. And everyone and everything else… None of it matters, Sammy. Not as long as we stick together – and tell each other the truth, no matter how hard it is.”
Oh, and Sam knew just how hard it would be to tell Dean the whole truth, but he wouldn’t deny his brother that no matter how difficult things got. For now, though? He was more than happy to just sit there, together, basking in each others’ presence. It felt so painfully similar to the way he felt when he’d taken Gabriel’s hand, pressed his body against the Archangel’s when –
Well, what was that? Everything about that sensation was soft and sweet, would not continue without permission, but it still sent a thrill of terror or something through his being. And he knew that he’d invited it, but it still horrified him. He would talk to Dean about it – he would he would he would –
Just not yet.
Just like he could not quite bring up the… was it a psychic connection? That didn’t seem quite right… but there was something deeper than simply being brothers, some connection that existed beyond their perception, and the only reason Sam could sense it was because Gabriel had opened up that window. It had always existed, but their bond had never really seemed to make sense until now. The way Gabriel had looked at them, near the end of their encounter, the way his body language and facial expressions and aura seemed to shift…
For so long, now, everything had simply felt wrong. Sam was an abomination, his fate written out ages before he was born, his life tainted by the curse he’d been carrying since he was six months old. The demon blood coursing through his veins made him impure, it tarnished him, and ever since he’d learned the truth of it, he’d wondered if he could ever, truly, be someone who could be considered good. His very nature had caused so much friction, so much pain. He’d inflicted so much misery on the world around him, unleashing demons and the Devil himself, and every mistake he’d ever made weighed heavy on his shoulders.
And Dean…
How ungrateful could Sam be? That was the brother who’d raised him, who’d stepped up when their father had stepped out. No matter what trouble Sam seemed to find when they were kids, Dean would come up with some way to keep them alive and mitigate whatever wrath John might see fit to rain down on them. After everything his brother had done for him, Sam had lied to him, had chosen Ruby over him, had put them both in this mess that should have been his to deal with alone. Their relationship had been strained, as of late, and he really had no idea how he could possibly atone for every wound he’d inflicted.
Yet, somehow, Dean didn’t seem to care about any of that right now. They hadn’t clung to each other like this for several years, but for some reason, it felt… right, in this moment.
“Dean?” His eyelids grew heavy, along with just about every muscle in his body. Even with the deep, restful sleep from the night before, he felt listless, being at his brother’s side. “I’m… sorry I dragged you into this. I’ve been – I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. But I wanna try and make things right.”
The fingers combing through his hair went rigid, the rise and fall of the ribcage he rested on hitched for a moment, and Sam was certain he could sense a wave of… despair, perhaps, or maybe just sorrow, wash over him. “Don’t talk like that. I know – I know things haven’t been… great. Between us. But you’re still my baby brother. If Gabriel wants to help us? Fine. I’m not holding my breath, but fine. All I know is that you and me? We’re facing this together, and there’s nothin’ that’s gonna change that. Okay? Even after – even after everything. I mean, who else is stupid enough to face down a couple of jackass Archangels and try stoppin’ the friggin’ Apocalypse?”
Both brothers relaxed, slightly, sinking deeper into the stiff mattress, but whatever discomfort was forced upon them by the very nature of the motel went unnoticed. The only comfort that mattered was what they found from each other. Sam didn’t know if Gabriel’s visit had anything to do with this, but he did know that, in this singular moment in time – even with chaos and calamity just outside their doorstep – everything felt as though it was the way it should be. Sam and Dean Winchester, destined vessels for the two oldest, most powerful Archangels, harbingers of the end of days and etched deep within God’s plan…
As grandiose as these cosmic beings tried to make their lives seem, they found comfort in the most human of moments. They were family, and they could be warm and intimate and content, no matter how impossible the task that lay ahead. For all of his life, Sam had known he could rely on that feeling, even when it had been days or weeks or months since he’d spoken with Dean. No matter how difficult or volatile things became between the brothers, they could always come back to this baseline feeling that insisted everything would be okay.
After several moments of silence, both Winchesters fell into a light, dozing sleep. It did not last long, because they both knew they had a hard road ahead of them, but it was exactly what they needed to cap off the angel induced slumber from the night before. The unspoken bond between them only grew stronger, and nobody could possibly predict what effect that might have on whatever it was that came next.
Sam couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being watched, even while they snoozed, but somehow, it didn’t bother him. Everything he’d spoken to Gabriel about, Dean’s unwavering presence, his own determination… There was more than one path forward, and, for the first time, Sam could feel a sense of hope coming from at least a few of them.