A/N:: So here's chapter 2. I just want to say, if you're reading my other fic, Blank Disc, I just want to apologize for lack of updates. The site I was getting transcripts and whatnot from was down, and I used it as an excuse to procrastinate rather than find another one. Sorry. I'm working on part two of Wendigo now. If you're not reading Blank Disc, then just ignore all that. :3

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Gadreel feels something akin to dread as he realizes the gravity of what's going on. Tonight is the breaking point, the choice that all the angels have known for centuries will truly seal the future. This brings a new conflict upon the former Guardian of Eden, who's always held out an odd sort of hope that when paradise came to Earth, he might find forgiveness with his brothers and sisters, but that thought is missing from his mind now. Now, all he wants is to tell Sam to not climb into that Impala tonight. He wants to get the youth to stay in his apartment with Jessica, to be happy and safe instead of running into the night after his father.

He knows though, even without the prophecy in place, that Sam will leave tonight anyway. It's simply in the Winchester's nature to go looking for his father, just as it was in many of the angels to search for theirs upon his departure. Had he not been imprisoned, Gadreel would've been among them without a doubt. It startles him the slightest bit when he realizes the comparisons he's drawing between himself and Sam, and it alarms him even more when he sees the accuracy in them.

It's in the Impala when Sam's mind begins to wander, eyes tiredly taking in the dark trees on either side of the road as the sky just barely begins to lighten in the east, and Gadreel gets a longer look into the human's thoughts than he's had in awhile. He sees more now of the human than he has since the years of Sam's childhood, and he's intrigued with the differences he finds. Almost gone is the loneliness that he'd harbored as a child, replaced by confidant independance. Also new, the desire to be protected is gone and in it's place is the willingness and almost desire to protect others instead.

Looking past the differences though, Gadreel sees the concern Sam has or his father, more than he'd probably admit if asked. He's nervous about being brought back into the world of the supernatural, he's out of practice after all. And beneath it all is the slightest mixture of anger and bitterness as being pulled back into this.

While Sam has always been a source of comfort, Gadreel is not used to being connected to the boy's soul for this long. He finds he rather likes it, the soothing cool of the irregular soul a brilliant contrast against the blistering heat of his Grace, the slightly unsteady thrum of humanity giving him the only hope he has. He grows used to it, letting lose a low sigh as he feels the human start to slip away. The withdraw leaves something like an ache behind, and suddenly being alone in his mind seems incredibly lonely.

The next few days are some of the worst in the angel's recent memory. Thaddeus seems especially enthusiastic about his work, more so than usual, and Gadreel finds himself desiring the ability to lose consciousness. He tries, like he always does and has, to keep a straight face and remain unaffected by it all, doing what he can to lend his strength to Abner. It is now when he truly becomes certain that Sam is holding him together.

The prayers now are shorter, more direct, laced with some of the old instinct Gadreel came to expect while the human was hunting, soft pleas to keep Jessica safe in his absence, prayers for his brother left unspoken due to fear or ridicule from his older sibling. They aren't a lot, but they're a distraction that the angel's grateful for.

And then he hears Sam's soul cry out in fear and agony and rage. He's never felt such a volatile wave of emotions from Sam, who usually stays pretty level-headed. None of that steadiness is there anymore, and the human is swallowed up by a tide of guilt. Repetitions of 'I never should've left her' and 'it's all my fault' are all the Winchester can think about for days, the crescendo of self-condemnation getting to the point where Gadreel is close to trying to tune the human out, the pain radiating from the vitiated soul almost maddening.

Sam's praying falters, and Gadreel knows it's because he's angry at God. How could he not be? He'd poured his faith into him since he was capable of doing so, had always believed and prayed, even specifically to keep Jessica safe, and yet it had all been for naught. Jessica was dead, the thing was still out there, and his father was missing. In truth, Gadreel expects a breakdown on the Winchester's part. Instead, Sam throws himself into hunting, into looking for John so that he can get his revenge.

Despite everything in his life, the youngest Winchester has never been so lost, and it's harrowing to feel the rawness of the boy's soul and not recoil.

And slowly, the ache just becomes a part of who Sam is, pain becomes just another trait. Eventually he starts praying again, though it's with considerably less faith and conviction as it had been previously. As quickly as John vanished from Sam's prayers, he reappears in them, in midnight pleas for the protection and safety of his family. The life he'd made for himself in college vanishes, and he becomes again a hunter - fueled by the desire for revenge, much like his own father had been. The Winchester brothers work cases, and they save people, and Gadreel knows that the fact that lives are saved in what they do is the only thing that keeps Sam going.

One time, he feels the true impact of the hurt and anger that's been building inside the human since childhood, a burst of raw and primal emotion unleashed by a spirit. It's something bewildering and terrifying, and Gadreel finds himself wondering how he didn't feel the darkness and anger that'd been pooling just below the surface for twenty odd years. To him it doesn't matter that they were thrown out of proportion with Sam's restraint, and all he feels as the human shoots his own brother with rock salt, all he sees is a release of everything kept hidden in an attempt to not burden or upset others. Though the hunter later claims that he didn't mean what he said, that it wasn't real, Gadreel knows better. He knows that it's always been there, suppressed by the stronger desire in Sam to keep those he loves safe, even from himself.

It's been almost six months since Jessica's death before the brothers have a falling out. Gadreel had seen it coming, has felt the anger and desperation Sam held with him, using hunting as a staple to pass the time until he could find his father. He also knows that Dean was apparently perfectly content hunting and not looking for John, it was a thought Sam tended to dwell on for extended periods while the Impala roared over interstates and backroads. So the angel sees it as the breaking of something that's been building for awhile now.

He's both proud and concerned as Sam walks away from the Impala.

So yep. We got from the Pilot to the beginning of Scarecrow. As always, reviews, favorites, etc. are always welcomed, and I'll see you next chapter!

~TheFallenArchangel