Chapter Text
Sam leaned against a wall behind the others and tried to look nonchalant. “Not worried” was better than “can’t stand up independently” any day of the week. Covered a multitude of symptoms, really, and both were technically true. He wasn’t worried because he didn’t care. What was the worst that the intruders could do – kill him? And it wasn’t as though they could get indoors to do it, either. “One of them is an angel,” he warned, trying (and failing) to swallow the coughing fit that accompanied so many words.
Dean shot him a look even as he opened his own laptop. He was plenty competent with a computer now, thanks to Frank. He had Charlie and Kevin to help him out with anything he couldn’t handle on his own, and Cas to answer research questions. At least Sam wouldn’t be leaving him high and dry. “And how would you know that?” he demanded.
“Because I can feel it,” he shot back. Of course Dean didn’t believe him. Why would he? Sam should have just kept his mouth shut. For all his brother’s complaining about wanting honesty he never seemed all that happy when he got it.
The images from the surveillance cameras were up now. The wall was a good wall. It held Sam up admirably. Maybe he would let it guide him back to bed. It wasn’t as though he was doing much good out here. “Crap,” Dean objected. “I don’t know who the other chick is but that one is Artemis.”
“Artemis,” Kevin repeated.
“As in the goddess of Hunters,” Crowley confirmed. “Piss off any gods lately, Squirrel?”
“Hey – all the pissing off was Sam,” the elder Winchester defended. “It’s a gift of his.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” the dying hunter rasped. “She helped us in the end.”
“Do you guys consort with gods on a regular basis?” the prophet wanted to know. It was easy to forget how little Kevin actually knew about them.
“Not so much ‘consort,’” Dean had to admit. “We usually don’t leave them alive behind us. I’m starting to regret it now.”
“The woman with her is Gilliel, my sister,” Cas identified. Sam avoided shooting his brother a look of triumph, because he was not five. It had nothing to do with not wanting the room to start spinning again, nothing at all. “She commanded a battalion in the garrison.” Sam couldn’t see the laptop with so many heads crowded around it so he didn’t bother. “She is a formidable enemy. The question is what would an angel be doing with a pagan god?”
“Isn’t it obvious, angel?” Crowley pointed out. “She’s looking for the Winchesters and they cannot be tracked by angels. She enlisted the assistance of the best of the best. It would hardly be the first time that an angel resorted to outside assistance.” The reformed demon smirked.
“But why?” Kevin’s eyebrows knit together. “What happened to the angels wasn’t Sam and Dean’s fault.”
Cas turned pale and hung his head. Dean cleared his throat. “I helped, remember?” he pointed out. “And I’m sure they’ll blame us anyway. They know no one likes to screw over Heaven like we do.”
“Plus I failed to close Hell,” Sam pointed out, and the fire inside him leaped at his words.
“No. You stopped. That’s not the same thing as failing,” his brother growled.
“I can still finish,” he pointed out.
“No!” Castiel, Dean and Crowley barked in unison.
“Why the hell not? The result will be the same either way. At least the angels might get off your backs and Abbadon won’t be able to come after Crowley.”
“Shut up Sam,” Dean barked.
The knock came at the door, cutting off the argument they’d had six times over the past three weeks. Dean and the others went to answer it. Sam’s knees decided they were done for the day and he sank to the floor. “Where is Sam Winchester?” Artemis demanded. After a two second pause, she added, “Why can’t I move forward?”
“See, the guys who built this place, they weren’t too fond of non-humans,” Dean replied. Sam could only see his back, and no one really wants to spend all that much time looking at his brother’s ass, but the smirk at least was audible. And Dean said he was the one with the gift for pissing deities off. “It’s pretty thoroughly warded against all comers. Whatever it is you have in mind you are not getting my brother.”
Crowley turned around and noticed the exorcist. “Sam!” he cried, and raced to help the younger Winchester to his feet. Sam could see them now. Artemis looked the same – less hostile maybe, but fundamentally the same. Gilliel actually reminded him a little bit of Cas, with dark hair and intense blue eyes. Unlike Cas, she had retained her Grace. The fire inside of him stretched out toward her, toward her Grace. She’d traded in the typical angelic suit for something more practical – jeans and a tee shirt, and boots. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Sam Winchester,” she breathed, and damn him if she sounded less like a hostile angel on the warpath and more like a star-struck fangirl.
Whatever. He’d been fooled before, with some pretty spectacular results. “That’s me.”
“You’re in pain.”
“Yeah.” He tried to give a light laugh but it turned into a cough. “It kind of comes with the job sometimes.”
“Not like this,” she retorted. “I’m glad we found you before –“
“Do. Not. Finish. That. Sentence,” Dean growled. He was growling a lot lately. Was he perhaps a were-bear? Sam resolved to test him with silver at the next opportunity, just to be sure. It wasn’t like they needed two denial-plagued hunters in the bunker, after all.
“Well, I’m right here,” he told them.
“Castiel,” Gilliel said then. “You seem… different.”
“Metatron stole my Grace,” the former angel confessed with a hanging head. “He used it to complete the spell. I did not fall as Lucifer Fell; I am completely human now.”
The grief on Gilliel’s face was not false. She stretched out her arms, but of course they could not cross the threshold. “Oh my brother,” she inhaled. “I am so sorry. At least you are among your other family – the Winchesters. They will help you.”
“Look, sister,” Dean said, shifting like he had itching powder in his pants. “I’m glad you’re feeling all lovey with Cas – really – but why are you here exactly?”
Gilliel blushed and tilted her head to the side in the patented Angelic Head Tilt. They all did it, every single one of them. Even Lucifer had done it. “I came to see Sam,” she explained. “As soon as I fell I knew. I wanted to come before the Great Fall but of course it was forbidden, but there is no more Heaven now. No more Heaven, no more orders, no more intelligence service, no more rules. My only goal was to see and speak with Sam Winchester.”
She lacked the awkwardness of Castiel but none of his creepy intensity and now everyone was staring – not at her, because why would anyone want to stare at the creepy stalker angel, but at Sam. His mouth felt dry and there was really no way that he could keep standing if not for Crowley, and how weird was it that he needed to rely on fucking Crowley to stand under an angel’s gaze? No one seemed inclined to make a move. “Cas, do you trust her?”
“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “She fought loyally on my side during the war in Heaven and assisted Dean when I was… unable to do so.”
“Fine.” He pushed forward and staggered to the wall. “Dean, you’ve got that angel blade, right?”
“Sam, no.”
“And an ash stake?”
“Sam, no.”
Sam took the bandage off the Crowley bite. It hadn’t healed in the three weeks since the Great Fall, not even a little bit. Now he didn’t mind so much. He dipped his fingers into the open wound and drew the appropriate sigils onto the wall near the door. After a moment’s thought he remembered the right sigils and added the ones for Artemis as well. They glowed orange-red for a moment and then faded into the wall. The two supernatural beings walked into the bunker. “Thank you,” Artemis said, and caught him as he collapsed.