Title: Traveling Sam Winchester Territory
Chapter: The Gutters
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam and Ezekiel.
Spoilers: Up to 9x2.
Warnings: None.
Summary: He thought it would be easier than this. Ezekiel is wholly unprepared for the darkness and the emotions that make up Sam's soul. Traveling Sam Winchester Territory, he sees more than perhaps he believes he should. The angel uses everything at his disposal from within the Winchester to heal Sam's physical and emotional wounds.

A/N: I got into a conversation with some people about Ezekiel being inside of Sam and I'm convinced Sam will be okay, even though everything I know about SPN is telling me not to trust Zeke. I just want to live in a happy lil bubble for a second and pretend that Zeke is totally giving Sam free therapy from the inside. Like a Soul Massage. Now, I'm aware that the show will probably prove me wrong in about 2 episodes, but shhhh... right now I just want to act like Sam's happy line from 9x2 was 100% real.

Btw, this is my first Sam-centered thing and I wrote it in about a day, so go easy on me. It's a three part thing that's going to be full of cheese and Sammy feels. This is totally a psychedelic, dreamy journey.

The Gutters

Ezekiel found himself in sludge. Now only a minuscule flare of light – a pitiful echo of what he had been – the wounded angel took residence in what was left of the vessel that had once been intended for Lucifer. Ezekiel began to drown as soon as he entered Sam Winchester's body.

Sam's veins were conduits of pain, sending memories of repeated tortures from one end of Sam's body to another. They were inescapable, dark vines. His flesh was inflamed by death, blood, and trauma that could never be spoken out loud. The membranes of Sam's cells were constructed of toxic thoughts and feelings that made everything around Ezekiel feel tight and weighty. Gasping, Ezekiel clawed through the vessel, praying to God for guidance and strength. Even fallen, Ezekiel prayed because old habits died hard and being inside Sam Winchester hurt.

I can't breathe.

Ezekiel coughed, as if to expel his suffering, and the sensation startled him. His grace had never shuddered quite like this before. He was racked with violent, incessant hacks as he adjusted to the Winchester.

Gritty, and oozing soreness, a voice asked, "What did you do?"

Get up, you fool.

"I can't. I can't breathe!"

It was Ezekiel, talking to himself. Sam's doubts and fears were infecting the angel. Delusional now, Ezekiel felt shadows of Lucifer hunting him with every step he took. Sam had seen and experienced things that no other being could have survived. Was Ezekiel an angel or a fly on the tread of a tire? Was he a savior or a footnote in The Book of Winchester? Ezekiel felt small.

Run. Don't look back. Just RUN.

Ezekiel had inhabited many human vessels before, but none had ever filled him with the horror and grief he felt now. There was too much to fix and too much that could not be undone.

"How does he live at all?" he wondered out loud.

Struck, Ezekiel remembered that, for the moment, Sam lived because of him. The pulse of Heaven within Sam animated what should have failed. Though Sam's body had technically died, the sludge of his spirit and soul was in an even worse state. Ezekiel had underestimated the kinds of pain the young Winchester had endured. There were whole continents of Sam that could never be healed or scrubbed clean.

Ezekiel had told Dean there were only bad options for a reason. The heart, the brain, the veins, the lungs, and every other fleshy part of Sam could probably be mended as long as he held breath in his body, but Sam's spirit had already crumbled long ago. Ezekiel didn't know how to even begin healing what had been deemed irreparable so many times before.

If he dies, you die.

Dripping with Sam's physical and metaphysical innards, Ezekiel gathered all his energy to move. Aware of his plight, he thought and planned. Somewhere, there was something he could fix. Somewhere, there were parts of Sam that were intact.

"I doubt that."

The voice was different. It did not belong to the injured angel; nor did it belong to Sam. Ezekiel turned abruptly and saw the memory of Lucifer smirking at him. The phantom did not take the image of the makeshift vessel the Dark One had taken while on Earth. Ezekiel saw Lucifer's true from in all of its brutal power. Countless pointed feathers filled his vision for a few frightening moments.

It's not real.

"Go away." Ezekiel batted a fist in the direction of the Lucifer mirage and reminded himself that he was inside of Sam Winchester, the boy that had once saved the world. He held his breath and waded through Sam. As he journeyed, he exuded small bits of his power to heal whatever was in reach. He would be content to die in this task. It was more important to keep Sam alive than to live himself. Without Sam, there was no Ezekiel.

"You're a parasite, nothing more," Ezekiel muttered, alone in the dark. Heavy with Sam, he wept and his grace bled as it snagged on thorns that tore Sam in every direction. He kept moving, though he continually forgot why he tried at all. Ezekiel was raw and numb when he fell into the gutters that ran with blood.