TEACH YOUR CHILDREN
Part 14: Don't You Ever Ask Them Why

WARNING: Discussions of past child abuse

Dean woke like a cat, going from deep slumber to complete alertness within the span of a single breath. A hand rested on his arm, familiar and reassuring. Castiel. It helped orient him past the fact that this was definitely not his bed.

Raising his head, he squinted one eye open. A mountain of white fluff filled his vision of the bed to his right. But he was pretty sure he'd find an archangel and little brother on the other side.

A glance around the room showed his mom was still asleep. Raphael sat on the sofa at the end of her bed, reading a book. The Healer nodded at him when he noticed Dean awake.

Dean tried to nod back, but ended up flopping back onto his pillow instead. "What time is it?" he grumbled.

"Almost one in the afternoon," Castiel whispered. "You've only been asleep for six and a half hours. You should try to get more."

"Nah." Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "That's two and a half more than usual. I'm good."

"Four hours is never enough sleep." Castiel frowned but followed him. "Just because you can function on so little does not mean you should."

"Can we make that the Winchester motto?" Gabriel asked in a low voice. He was stretched out on his side, half curled over top of Sam who was burrowed into the archangel's chest.

"Did we run outta blankets?" Dean asked, nodding at their odd arrangement.

"Listen mister," Gabriel said with a playful scowl, "it was this or let your brother gut me like a Taunton and climb inside."

"Yeah, he does that." Dean said fondly. "How was he last night?"

"Restless, even once he fell asleep." Gabriel absently ran a hand through Sam's curls and Dean bet the archangel had been doing it most of the night. "He's tried to wake up a couple times, but I've managed to coax him back down without using grace."

"Impressive. You might have a couple more nights like this before he evens out." Dean scratched Morpheus behind the ears. "I'm gonna make some coffee. Want me to get food going?"

"We should have enough leftovers to last a few meals. I say we forage." Gabriel froze when Sam shifted in his sleep. "Go away," he whispered fiercely as soon as the kid settled, "before you wake him up!"

Dean gave a mock salute and left, grabbing his robe on the way out the door. "Someone's cranky today," he muttered to Castiel once they were in the hallway.

"It… was a long night," the seraph said cryptically.

"Dude, talk about an understatement." Dean rolled his eyes. "It was a long night before they made it back. Sam didn't even finish his bath till around seven this morning."

"You were supposed to be asleep." Castiel raised a brow.

"Please," he scoffed. "Have we met? I don't need musical alarms to tell me when Sam enters and exits a room. I can practically smell him."

"Sam does not smell like anyth—"

"It was a metaphor. Or simile. Or analogy. Whatever." He smacked the angel's shoulder. "I didn't mean it literally."

Dean set about making coffee as soon as they entered the kitchen, brewing it extra strong. He suspected they'd need it today. God, there's gonna be so many chick-flick moments. I can already feel it.

"So," he brought their mugs over to the kitchen table, sliding one to Castiel, "tell me about this 'long night.'"

Castiel stared down at the dark liquid in silence.

Dean didn't prod, knowing the angel would speak when ready. He sipped his own drink and winced. The sugar he'd added helped cut back the bitterness, but it didn't get rid of it entirely.

"Are there experiences from your childhood that you kept secret from Sam?"

Coffee sprayed onto the table as Dean choked. "What!?" Oh, there wasn't coffee strong enough for this. "What the hell did you all talk about last night?"

"Nothing specific." Castiel sighed and met Dean's gaze. "Gabriel refused to discuss details, but he implied that there were things pertaining to John that no one else knew. Including you."

Dean wanted to deny it immediately. He'd practically raised Sam—he knew his brother better than anyone. How was it possible for there to be secrets like that between them when they were living in each other's pockets?

But then he remembered Sonny and how Sam had only recently learned about those months of Dean's life. Or the years Sam spent with Sully right under everyone's noses. How many times had Dean gone on a hunt with their dad and downplayed the danger when recounting the adventure to Sam? Did that count?

"I guess," Dean stood to refill his coffee, needing to move, "there may have been some things I kept from Sam while growing up. But it was my job to protect him. Older brother's do that. He didn't need to know everything—he was just a little kid." He ignored the voice in his head that screamed you were little too!

"Did you ever protect Sam from John in that way?" Castiel asked quietly.

"I don't…" Memories swarmed to the surface—events he'd fought to forget long ago. Consequences he'd had to face alone, either by circumstance or by choice. "Maybe a few times. Fuck!"

Dad drunk on Sam's fourth birthday—making a game of hiding under the bed, desperately trying to keep Sam from giggling. Watching his bike get thrown into a dumpster as punishment for letting Sam jump off the roof and break his arm. The beating he got the first time Sam ran away.

The coffee mug slipped from Dean's hands and shattered on the ground as he covered his face. How many times had he lied to Sam? Tears streaking down Sam's face when he confessed he'd read Dad's journal. Not enough to actually protect him.

"Dean. Look at me, please."

His hands were gently peeled away by an unstoppable force. Warm fingers brushed against his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn't noticed fall. Blinking, he came face to face with concerned blue eyes. "Hey, Cas," he said shakily.

"Hey." Castiel frowned. "I apologize. I did not realize my question would upset you so greatly. I was merely trying to make sense of things but I did not have all the information. But I believe Gabriel is correct in assuming there is more to this than we all know."

"Yeah," Dean croaked. His mind raced with horrifying possibilities. What had Sam kept from him? "Fuck. I just… wasn't expecting that. Um, okay." He needed to regain control. The others would be waking soon. "I need… let me clean this up and…"

Castiel waved his hand and the mess disappeared. "Sit down. I will bring you another cup. Or would you prefer tea?"

"Ew, no." Dean made a face as he staggered back to the table. "I need something a lot stronger than tea. I'm tempted to dig out an old bottle of Hunter's helper to add to the coffee."

"I do not think liquor will help this particular situation," Castiel said, handing him a fresh mug with a small scowl.

"Says the man who drank a liquor store," Dean mumbled.

"As I recall, drinking a liquor store did not help that situation either."

His hands shook as he drank deeply of the hot liquid. Castiel had added extra sugar, the sneak. It helped calm his nerves and clear his mind.

"Fuck. What did Sammy dream about last night? What made him fly off to Heaven and then have to talk about this shit with Gabe?" Dean shook his head. "Last we knew, Sam was torn up over possible future problems—not past issues! No wonder he was such a goddamn mess."

"I do not know the specifics of Sam's dream—just that it dealt with his fears of being left behind by everyone. Nor do I know how Gabriel learned of these new details." Castiel sighed, resting a hand on Dean's arm. "Gabriel wishes to discuss his concerns with you both at a later time—once more immediate issues are settled. I fear I… 'jumped the gun' by telling you this." Not even the air quotes raised a grin.

Sam and Gabe… talked about stuff that happened between Sam and Dad… that I don't know about… and it's got everyone freaked out.

He replayed all of Sam and Gabriel's interactions from that morning after their arrival. What he'd originally seen as simple clinginess and grace-doping suddenly took on a whole new level of meaning. Sam had been emotional, unable to speak, and holding onto Gabriel for dear life. He'd been shaken to his core—and now, so was Dean.

Part of him wanted to rush back to that bedroom. Wake his brother up and demand an explanation. Search every inch of his skin for signs that he'd missed something.

But that would mean admitting there were things Sam had missed too. Scars that were nearly invisible, almost as faded as the memories themselves, would be brought back to light. This kind of conversation would have to be a two-way street.

"Honestly? I'm not sure I'm up for that yet." Dean shuddered as he drained his mug. "Not on one cup of coffee, anyway."

He stood and stretched, ready for yet another cup. But his mug was plucked from his hand as arms wrapped firmly around him. The need to fight only lasted a heartbeat before he melted into the embrace.

"It is going to be okay, Dean," Castiel murmured in his ear. "There is no battle to be won. No danger to prepare for around the corner. And you are no longer alone in this—you or Sam."

"Then why does it feel like it's gonna be harder than fighting God's own Sister?" Dean gasped, burying his face against Castiel's shoulder.

"Probably because there is no enemy to fight here. You and Sam will be facing your own darkness—revealing secrets that have remained hidden for far too long. It is easier to fight an outside force than our own demons. And far less complicated."

"Yeah," Dean sniffed. "Give me actual demons any day over this shit."

Castiel leaned away, making eye contact without releasing his grip. "Will your opinion of Sam change when you learn his secrets?"

"What?!" Dean tried to rear back but Castiel didn't let him.

"Will you think less of your brother?"

"No! What the fuck, Cas?" Dean sputtered in outrage.

"Do you think his opinion of you will change, then?" Castiel's head tilted. "Will Sam think less of you knowing you endured hardships and did not tell him?"

"I don't… no, of course not! This is Sam we're talking about. It's not about losing face!" Dean clenched fistfuls of the trench coat, trying to ground himself. "He shouldn't have to know!"

"You are scared," Castiel said simply, his eyes lighting up with revelation.

Dean wanted to deny it but the words lodged in his throat. His body burned with the need to fight something. He shut his eyes and twisted the fabric in his fists, growling with frustration, "It was my job to protect him."

"Yes, it was," Castiel assured, pulling him in tighter again, "but it is now a shared responsibility. We all protect each other, right?"

He nodded, unable to argue against it.

"Then perhaps it is time to stop guarding these wounds so possessively and let them actually heal." The angel's hand ran up Dean's back to grasp his hair, holding him steady. "You and Sam have spent years hiding this pain—all in the name of protecting each other. But it has protected no one."

Dean's breath caught as his realized the truth of Castiel's words. Rage sparked in his belly—at John, at the world, at the injustice of it all. It has protected no one. It certainly hadn't protected him or Sam.

"Shh," Castiel soothed, "you are both protected now. And there is no need for hiding."

"Jesus, Cas," he huffed a wet laugh, "quit sayin' shit like that. I'm trying to not be a blubbering mess here."

"Oh, right." Castiel dropped his arms and stepped back. Dean's chest tightened at the loss, but then the seraph punched his shoulder—hard. "Buck up, partner. You got this!"

"Ow!" Dean grabbed his shoulder and let out a surprised laugh. "Damn it, Cas! That's not… No more westerns for you. But thanks, dude."

Castiel nodded sagely with a slow wink. "You're welcome."

Wiping his face, Dean took a deep breath. "Alright, how much time do you think we have before everyone wakes up?"

The angel tilted his head again, listening to his brothers. "Your mother is awake and going to take a shower. Sam shows signs of waking but Gabriel is trying to keep him asleep a little longer."

"Okay, so we've got about thirty minutes max." He opened the refrigerator and started pulling out containers. "That's enough time to reheat food and have it ready. Sam'll be more willing to eat if the work's already done."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Didn't we just discuss how caring for Sam is now a shared responsibility?"

"Oh yeah!" Dean grinned and shoved a large covered casserole dish into the seraph's hands. "Get to work, partner!"

"I'm gonna kill our little brother. Then, I'll make Dad bring him back just so I can kill him again."

"Gabriel," Raphael said with a long-suffering sigh. "You cannot kill Castiel."

"I can if he gets Deano worked into an emotional explosion before food!" Gabriel shot back in a whisper. "What is he doing?"

"He is worried—about both Samuel and Dean." Raphael turned the page in his book, never looking up. "He knows he is missing vital information about his charges' past and feels responsible. Just as Dean now feels responsible. Just as you feel responsible."

"Oh, shut up," Gabriel snapped without any real ire. "Know-it-all."

The corner of Raphael's mouth twitched.

A tiny hand stretched out from under Gabriel's hunched figure and tangled in Morpheus' fur. Sam had started making little sighs and noises as he shifted more and more over the past hour. It was both adorable and nerve-wracking.

He is not going to remain asleep much longer, Morpheus said. It's a miracle he's lasted this long.

"I know," Gabriel sighed. "But seven hours is nowhere near close enough. He's still exhausted. I can feel it."

"Yes," Raphael put down his book, "but it will be good to load him with nourishment—food, water, grace. Then, he may be more apt to sleep longer."

"Not to mention a lovely conversation about angel blades and abandonment," Gabriel muttered.

"That, too, should help ease his mind and allow him to rest better," Raphael agreed, ignoring Gabriel's sarcasm. He stood and walked to the door. "I shall go make sure our brother behaves until you join us for breakfast. Castiel's murder would be a terrible way to start the day."

The pillow hit the doorframe just as Raphael ducked into the hallway.

"Why is Cas getting murdered?"

Gabriel jumped at the sound of Sam's muffled voice. "Damn, I didn't know you were awake." He rubbed gentle circles along the boy's spine, hoping to coax him back to sleep. "We don't have to get up yet."

"Nah," Sam yawned and stretched up into Gabriel's hand like a cat before rolling to the side. He rolled his eyes when he ran into Morpheus. "Jeez, guys. I haven't fallen outta bed in a really long time, you know."

"Morpheus takes up most of this bed by himself," Gabriel scoffed. "I'm wedged against the wall, thank you very much!"

Sure, blame me, Morpheus drawled.

"Well, of the three of us, you have the ability to shift down to a much smaller size," Gabriel pointed out. Not that he'd wanted Morpheus to be smaller on the bed. His large frame kept Sam perfectly cushioned between them.

"You didn't answer my question about Cas." Sam sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Did he end up feeding Zadkiel all our food or something?"

"Well," Gabriel hesitated. He didn't want to upset the boy, but he also wasn't about to start lying to him.

"Oh, God. That bad?" Sam looked at him with wide eyes.

"He led your brother into a topic of conversation I hadn't planned on addressing today," he answered cryptically.

Sam blinked. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means," Gabriel sighed. "It means that, without giving away any details, I told Castiel I'd learned some things about your father that upset me. Things you hadn't told anyone before, including him or Dean. And Cassie grew concerned that there were things Dean was keeping hidden about John too… and asked him about it."

Several expressions flittered across Sam's face before a stoic mask descended. He hugged his bare chest, eyes dropping to the bed, unfocused, so he didn't have to look at either of them. "Oh," was all he said.

"Hey," Gabriel said softly, cupping the boy's face and tilting it up. "Can you talk to me?"

"I…" Sam's breathing sped up. "I can't… It's too soon. I… I need a shirt. Where's my shirt?"

"Here, sweetheart. It's alright." The conversation was actually far overdue, but Gabriel didn't say so out loud. He handed Sam the shirt. "No one's going to make you talk about that today, okay?"

"But," his voice wavered as he frantically tried to get the shirt on.

"Not today," Gabriel repeated. "Today, we're going to eat whatever we want. Then, we're going to talk a bit about your dream and what happened last night as a family. And then, we're gonna relax until we're one step above coma-level. Sound good?"

"But…" Sam frowned, and this time Gabriel allowed him to continue. "But Dean—he'll want to know. If he thinks I've kept something from him, something important, he's like a-a dog with a bone."

"Come here, you." Gabriel scooped up the pitiful bundle of nerves and held him against his chest. The kid squirmed, half-heartedly fighting the embrace. "Take some deep breaths for me, okay? I want you to breathe and just listen." He waited until he felt Sam relax enough to no longer struggle for air. "Good boy. Now, being my superpowered awesome self, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on our brothers' conversation. And from what I heard, Dean is not ready to talk about this either. He's upset—but not at you. I promise."

"You can't promise that," Sam mumbled.

"I can too. And I did," Gabriel insisted.

"No, you don't understand." Sam pushed against Gabriel's chest until he could scowl up at the archangel. "Dean… he's got a thing about me keeping secrets from him. He was already pissed about the angel blade because he knew I was hiding something. Now this?"

"Well, I can't speak for him about your super-secret studies situation," he said, ruffling the kid's hair, "but I can tell you that he has no room to talk about secrets. You both kept what was happening hidden from each other. Neither one of you are at fault. You were kids, understand? It's not about blame—it's about helping each other move forward. When you're ready."

"What if we're never ready?" The words were barely said above a whisper.

Gabriel wondered if it was possible to drag a soul out of Heaven and resort their afterlife location. "Give it some time, Sam. You don't have to make a decision today." He shuffled them off the bed and stood, keeping Sam on his hip. "Like I said, we only have one conversation on the books for today and the rest of our time is strictly for relaxation."

"I can walk," Sam protested as soon as they hit the hallway.

Gabriel stopped, shoving down the urge to panic at the very thought of physical separation. It was true—Sam could walk as long as he stayed close. "But isn't this better? I mean, who needs feet when you've got an archangel chariot?"

"Gabriel," Sam drawled, unimpressed and squirming, "I don't need a chariot. I need to stretch my legs."

"Fine," he said, setting him down carefully, "but stay close so we don't have any grace freak-outs."

"How close?" Sam's fingers curled around Gabriel's pantlegs. It was a common enough gesture when Dean was involved, but he'd never seen the kid do it to anyone else. The sight sent a spark of warmth through his grace.

He unfurled one set of wings, grinning when Sam gasped in awe. "How about we keep it within my wingspan? You can grab hold of them if you feel yourself get a bit twitchy." It would keep their graces connected without maintaining physical contact. A fine compromise, if he did say so himself.

Sam nodded and kept pace as they slowly walked side-by-side to the kitchen.

Do I get the option to be carried? Morpheus asked from behind them.

"Not if you're still big enough to ride," Sam scoffed.

The canine snorted and shifted down to his small size. He ran forward with a high-pitched yip, almost tripping Sam in an effort to launch himself into the boy's arms. The cotton ball only made it as far as Sam's knees.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, knowing the shenanigans were on purpose. He'd seen Morpheus clear the tall beds easily in his small form. But he fully supported the ruse when it led to Sam laughing as he fell on his butt.

"Some warrior you are. Come here." Sam grabbed the hyper dog, trying to stay away from the overactive tongue. He failed. "Quit that before I drop you!"

"Pfft." Gabriel reached down and pulled the kid to his feet. "You squirm all the time and I've never dropped you."

"I don't lick your face!"

"Not yet—I wouldn't put it past you though." Gabriel smirked at the look of outrage directed at him. "Hey! All I'm saying is you have a propensity for expressing your displeasure with your mouth—in a non-verbal fashion."

Should I feel left out that you haven't bit me yet, pup? Morpheus asked, pausing in his lick-attack.

"I haven't bitten everyone," Sam whined. "It was just Raphael—one time! And it was during a very stressful moment."

"What about your brother?" Gabriel asked.

"Dean doesn't count. We were still biting each other as adults."

After a quick bathroom stop for morning essentials, they entered the kitchen. Gabriel sent his Father a silent prayer that the mood wasn't awkward or tense. He didn't dare ask his brothers over angel radio—not when his grace was so closely wrapped around Sam. It wouldn't help anything if the boy thought they were talking about him behind his back like he was fragile.

Luckily, the emotional angst of earlier seemed to have dissipated. At least on the surface. Everyone was seated at the table making quiet, light-hearted conversation.

Sam paused at the threshold, taking in the scene. Nervousness poured into Gabriel through their bond but there was nothing left to do except move forward. He ruffled the kid's hair, reminding him he wasn't alone.

"Sammy!" Mary spotted them first and rose from the table. She knelt down in front of her son and looked him over. "How are you, sweetie? Did you get enough sleep?"

"Hey, mom," he said with a shy smile. "I'm good."

She glanced up at Gabriel for confirmation and he shrugged. "Well, we've got lots of food heated up and ready to go. Let's get you a plate. You barely ate anything yesterday."

Gabriel fought to not roll his eyes when he saw their seating arrangements. There were two open seats and Sam's raised chair was directly next to Dean. How subtle, he thought.

Sam sighed and shuffled into his chair. "Mornin'," he mumbled.

"I think we missed morning by a few hours," Dean said, studying his brother out of the corner of his eye. "How did you sleep?"

Sam shrugged, avoiding his brother's gaze. "With my eyes closed."

"Meh. I'll count that as a win. You want coffee?" Dean stood, draining his own mug.

"As long as he also drinks something that actually hydrates him afterwards," Raphael said before Sam could answer. The kid opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the look the Healer gave him made him snap it shut.

"Got it," Dean chuckled.

Contrary to popular belief, Sam traced a stain on the table top with his finger nail, I have survived the last few decades without you all monitoring my diet.

I really don't think that's the argument you want to go with here, kiddo. Gabriel smirked at him, with one brow raised.

Sam dropped his head to the table hard enough to make the others wince.

"Here," Dean set a coffee mug next to the kid, "drink this before someone in the God-squad changes it to decaf."

The mug was immediately grabbed and pulled close to Sam's chest. "I will smite anyone who touches it," he grumbled, drinking it in large gulps.

Raphael's laugh rolled through the kitchen. "Your coffee is safe from me, little warrior. No need to guzzle it."

Gabriel pushed a plate of food to Sam. Something in his chest unclenched when the kid tore into it instead of picking it apart. One less battle for them to fight.

The meal went quickly, fueled by an awkward energy. A cloud of tension hung over them all and it wasn't going away until they talked about it. But everyone seemed determined to wait until the food was gone.

By the time their plates were cleared away, the tension had ratcheted to an unbearable level. Sam sat hunched in his chair, mug clenched by white knuckles. Dean wasn't doing any better—his leg kept bouncing, knocking into the table. Mary glanced at the angels, unsure what needed to happen next.

Gabriel sighed. Sometimes, being the leader sucked. "Alright, time for a little family-flock meeting like we discussed last night. Then, we're gonna have a super chill day. Sound good?" The brothers gave half-hearted shrugs. "Awesome. Anyone need more coffee or a bathroom break before we start?"

"Both," Sam mumbled, slipping off his chair. He set Morpheus on the ground and looked toward Gabriel. He jumped when the voice behind him spoke up.

"Yeah, same." Dean said, stretching as he stood and walked nonchalantly to the hall.

"I'll, uh, just put on a fresh pot," Mary said with a small smile.

Gabriel steered Sam out of the room. With Morpheus remaining in the kitchen, the kid wrapped his arms around himself and trudged slower as they approached Dean. He debated whether to pick Sam up or leave him be when the hunter made the choice for him.

Dean sighed and moved alongside his brother. Gabriel fell back a few feet—still close enough to reach by wing, but far enough to give them some privacy. It was going to be a hard thing to come by in the next month.

"You doing okay, Sammy?" Dean shoved his hands in his pockets

Sam shrugged while staring at the ground. Gabriel didn't know whether to roll his eyes or cry. Not that we're any better in Heaven, he thought. We chose to destroy the world rather than talk about our feelings. Then, the boy shook his head and the urge to cry intensified.

"Yeah," the hunter dragged a hand back out to scratch his neck nervously, "me neither."

"Not talkin' 'bout it." Sam was barely audible as his arms tightened around his chest.

"I know, I know—and we're not! Definitely not talking about… it. We're totally on the same page where it is concerned." Dean agreed, blushing fiercely and nodding to himself. Then, he cringed and glanced at Sam. "Um, we are on the same page, right? 'It' is… umm…"

Gabriel wondered if he'd ever heard a more vague, riddle-filled conversation before in his life.

"It's Dad," Sam blurted quickly, putting them all out of their misery by ending the awkward monologue, "and we're not talking about him."

"Good. Right. Absolutely." Dean nodded faster. "That's exactly what I was saying—we're not talking about… about him." He stopped Sam with a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But I can still ask if you're okay, if we're okay, without it being mentioned."

Sam shrugged again and continued to stare at the ground.

Dean took a deep breath, then slowly knelt down in front of his brother. A joint popped loud enough to echo but he stayed in place with a determined grimace. "Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to talk, but can you look at me?"

Gabriel both felt and saw the turmoil taking place within the fledgling. The young grace practically cried out to him and Dean, while Sam's mind actively tried to control it by pushing it down. Maybe if I carried a spray bottle and squirted him with water every time he denied his grace something, he'd learn to not do it.

Several moments passed before Sam's head lifted. It was clear that Dean expected to see some degree of anger or blame in his brother's eyes—but none was there. Instead, he was met with tears of sadness and Sam's own fear of rejection.

"Aw, Sammy," Dean let out a sigh of relief. It turned into a wet laugh as the conversation continued on a silent level. Not even the archangels understood the language shared by these two brothers.

The corner of Sam's lip curled up. He wiped his eyes with a sweaty fist and nodded. Gabriel felt lost until Dean suddenly wrapped his arms carefully around the kid, burying his face in the mess of curls.

These boys are gonna be the death of me… again. Gabriel looked away from them, trying to pretend he wasn't intruding on their moment. Meh. It would be a noble death. There are definitely worse ways to go—like brothers who literally stab you in the chest. This is just a metaphorical chest stab.

"I really do have to pee," Sam mumbled into Dean's chest.

"Oh, right. Yeah, me too," Dean said sheepishly as he released the kid and struggled to his feet. "I probably drank a whole pot of coffee before you woke up."

Sam rolled his eyes and they kept walking. "That's nothing new. Try being super tiny. Anything I drink sends me to the bathroom in less than an hour."

What? Was that why the boy kept refusing drinks the night before? Gabriel frowned and watched for Dean's reaction.

The hunter's brows furrowed and his mouth opened and closed several times like he was searching for the right words to say. "You mean," Dean paused and licked his lips, "like when we were kids?"

"Well, duh." Sam looked at him like he was stupid. "I'm kind of a kid again, in case you missed it. My brain may be an adult but the rest of me certainly is not."

Dean grunted without commenting further, then pushed Sam toward the door when they got to their destination. "Age before beauty," he said with a tight smile, "and since you're both the oldest and youngest one in this line, you go first."

"I don't know if you're being nice or condescending," Sam said suspiciously but went in and shut the door.

Dean's eyes glazed as he quickly became lost in thought.

"So, that was interesting," Gabriel murmured to him.

"I'd forgotten." Dean's voice was hollow. "He wouldn't drink for hours during car rides because it made Dad angry if we had to stop. It got better once he was about eight years old—must have grown into his bladder or something. I didn't realize it was an issue for him again."

Gabriel pushed down the spike of anger that always came at the mention of the boys' father. He didn't even have time to ask all the questions floating around his head at this new revelation. The sound of running water meant Sam was almost back out.

"Don't worry," he said instead. "That isn't something he'll go through with us. I'll make sure he knows that when things aren't so tense, okay? I promise."

Dean jumped, surprised when Gabriel patted his shoulder. He managed a single nod before the door opened. Sam's eyes narrowed at their somber expressions.

"Dude, I was gone for less than two minutes! How did you guys even have time to get emotional over something?"

"I'm a sensitive guy, Sam." Dean moved past him and closed the door.

"What did I miss?" Sam asked.

Gabriel ruffled the kid's hair. "Your brother's just had a rough morning."

"Uh huh," Sam said skeptically but didn't push.

When Dean returned, his smile was brighter. "Come on," he scooped Sam off the ground, ignoring the squirming protests, "let's see if I can't steal you another coffee before Doc forces you on a juice and water regime." That settled Sam down.

"Fine."

"That's what I thought."

Gabriel snorted but couldn't hide his grin as he followed the boys back to the kitchen.

Sam tried to remain calm as he waited for the others at the table. He picked at the label of his water bottle, wishing it was coffee. Raphael's stony stare had reduced Dean to a sheepish smile and shrug. The traitor.

According to Gabriel, this discussion would ease Sam's mind. But how was that possible? Most conversations these days seemed bent on destroying him.

Unlike his carefully hidden secrets that kept getting revealed at every turn, this topic was straight forward and rooted in logic. Sam had a well-documented history of people in his life either leaving or dying. And it would happen again.

It would hurt like literal Hell but he'd resigned himself to the fact that every person present at the bunker would leave one day. And forget the cold, distant nonchalance of his dream. Sam's grace was edgy with Gabriel across the room. He'd probably go nuclear the day the archangel actually left.

But there was a difference between silently accepting the truth and saying it to their face. Verbalizing the issue would force a response—either confirmation or lies. Which would be worse? Both options made Sam want to vomit.

What is wrong? Castiel's smooth voice cut through the building thoughts.

Sam's eyes flicked to his friend across the table. What isn't wrong? he wondered as his thoughts continued to spiral.

He wished he'd asked Castiel more about Heaven's traditions through the years. Angels were capable of anything from lectures to locking their most beloved sibling in a cage in Hell for thousands of years. Could he expect punishment for trying to manifest a blade in secret? Maybe angels preferred doling out discipline in group settings.

Samuel!? Genuine concern radiating from the seraph as he leaned closer.

"Sorry. It's nothing. I'm fine." He kept his gaze away from those gathered at the coffee pot and tightly reigned in his scattered grace. It was tickling his skin in an uncomfortable way.

"Gabriel," Castiel snapped.

The archangel appeared in a fluster of wings before his name was finished. "What happened? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately inspecting Sam.

"Nothi—"

"You were too far away for too long." Castiel scowled at the Messenger. "You made Sam fret."

"I'm sorry, kiddo." Gabriel swept his hands across Sam's hair and back. "I didn't… We did so well with the bathroom door separating us, I thought we'd be okay across the room from each other."

"No tests, no experiments, no lessons," Raphael said firmly. "Not without my permission and supervision—which I shall not give until you have both sufficiently rested and recovered."

"Bossy," Gabriel mumbled, slumping into his chair and scooting closer to Sam.

"Really, I'm fine," Sam insisted when the archangel continued fussing over him. He didn't need them to think he was falling to pieces and unable to handle a group discussion.

Raphael's snort echoed through the kitchen.

"I swear!" Sam put his hand up in an oath-taking gesture. "I wasn't having a meltdown because you went to get coffee. This was nothing like… last night in Heaven. I'm just… stressed… in general," he finished weakly, lowering his hand to rub at his face.

Dean sat on his other side, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Not your best 'I'm not a wreck' speech. But A-plus for effort."

"I hate you," Sam whispered back.

"Hey, he might have convinced Sariel!" Gabriel defended, lightly flicking Dean's nose. The archangel casually wrapped a wing and arm around Sam's shoulder—seemingly because it allowed him to continue pestering Dean. But the warm contentment seeping through skin and grace told another story.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean swatted back half-heartedly. "How about we move this thing along so we can get outta here before dinner time?"

"Right." Gabriel cleared his throat, tucking Sam even closer into his side. "A lot's happened in the last day or so. We had a lot to talk about even before Sam flew into Heaven mid-nightmare. I think it's important that we still discuss this as a family and flock. Keeps us all on the same page and working together."

Raphael nodded and addressed Sam directly. "The events of your dream enlightened us to a degree. But I must confess, I still do not know what drove you to practice manifesting angel blades in secret." His tone held no judgment—only curiosity.

This is like an intervention, Sam thought. He wanted to sink through the chair and floor until he hit the subbasement level where he could hide in the dark for eternity. But then he shuddered, remembering past "interventions" that took place in locked panic rooms, and he shoved the thought away.

"Umm," he took a sip of water, hoping to cool the burn building in his throat, "I guess I just wanted to be prepared… for the future."

The Healer frowned, confused. "Angels are not introduced to combat until the very end of their training. We must first master the fundamentals of our grace and education."

"Just like a human kid wouldn't jump straight into organic chemistry before they've finished kindergarten just because they want to be a doctor," Gabriel said. "And who knows? By the time he gets to college, he may have changed his mind anyway!"

"You know I've been to college, right?" Sam asked.

"But you haven't been an angel," Gabriel pointed out. "It takes time and there are steps that can't be skipped. Manifesting an angel blade at your age skips all the steps."

Sam flushed and took another drink. "I thought I'd been kidnapped…"

"Dude," Dean glanced sideways at him over his coffee, "he's not talking about what went down in Heaven. They want to know why you were trying to learn it in the first place."

"Oh, right." Sam's stomach twisted.

"When I came back to check on you last night, your brother said you'd told them what was bothering you," Gabriel prompted gently.

Sam barely heard anything past the first part. "You came back? When I was asleep?"

"Yes. You followed me when I returned to Heaven. Didn't you…" Gabriel frowned and turned to Raphael. "Did we not mention that?"

"No, I… I hadn't realized I'd literally followed you. Not that it really matters in the long run." Sam shook his head. "Wait. Sorry. Why were you here?"

"I needed to see that you were alright. It hadn't felt right leaving you after our confrontation and I was worried." Gabriel's grace resonated with warm concern. "Can you tell us what's been troubling you?"

Troubling me? Sam opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. Did he stick to the obvious reasons everyone already knew about? Or delve into the nightmares that ended each day of training? A hint of hysteria tickled the back of his throat, but he didn't know if it would manifest as laughter or tears.

A throat cleared to his left. Sam turned to his brother and found Dean looking back questioningly. He nodded, grateful to be understood without speaking.

Dean returned his nod before addressing the group, although he focused mainly on Gabriel. "When Sam says he's preparing for the future, he means The Future—long-term. Like, when mom and I die."

"Oh. That's… oddly specific." Gabriel frowned, sounding sad but still confused. "How do angel weapons factor into this? Are we fighting our way through Heaven to see them?"

"No," Dean scoffed. "He thinks no one will be around to take him for visits. Meaning no one would be around to protect him either."

"But," Gabriel froze, startled, before slowly continuing, "where would we go? Why?"

Sam shrugged and hunched further down his seat.

"Back to Heaven or the pagans," Dean said. "Sam's been pretty sure the rest of Heaven won't want him. I don't know if his little adventure last night changed anything."

"I am unsure how much Samuel was able to register in Heaven," Raphael said carefully, "but I can assure you that the Host has sung of nothing except him since his impromptu introduction. Most are demanding he return so he is 'properly' cared for and protected. And yes, that includes those who have discovered your identity. It was not difficult to piece together once they heard your name and saw you in person. The knowledge did not sour their opinions."

"But…" Gabriel's voice cracked. The calm concern he'd been exuding shifted into alarm. "I'm sorry, can we go back? When you say 'leave'…Why are we leaving?"

"Everyone leaves," Sam finally managed to say. The burning in his throat spread to chest. He kept his breathing even, trying to maintain the image of being in control. "They leave or die. Including me—I've done my share of leaving! And dying, for that matter." He winced at hearing his own words and rushed to add, "It's not always voluntary, but it is inevitable. I just… I need to be prepared."

The silence made Sam look up. Mary and Castiel, already knowing the issues at hand, both had watery eyes and sympathetic expressions. Dean gave him a half-smile—because he understood. But the archangels?

Raphael's vessel was frozen, like he'd disconnected from it but remained within. No breath, hand suspended over a cup of tea, eyes unfocused. His wings, however, flared in warning the moment he grasped Sam's meaning.

Gabriel paid the Healer and the others no attention. He shoved away from his chair and dropped to his knees in front of Sam, pushing into his space until they were nose-to-nose. No one spoke.

Trembling hands framed Sam's face as grace-lit eyes bore into him. Then, Gabriel blinked and the golden glow died down to reveal whisky and water. Sam jumped when he saw a tear escape.

"I… I'm just saying, things happen." Unfamiliar emotions pelted his grace like a growing hailstorm. "Mom and Dean are mortal, and we don't know at what rate I'll age. I could still look like a kid in a century! I need to learn as much as possible while I have the chance. Nothing lasts forever."

Gabriel slowly nodded throughout Sam's speech. Not in agreement, but a form of acknowledgement. When it was over, the archangel pressed their foreheads together. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?" he whispered.

Leave, Sam's mind answered through their connection without his permission.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. The fire in his chest and throat spread upward, burning his eyes. Blinking did nothing to stop the tears. He didn't want Gabriel, or anyone else, to leave! He was tired of losing people.

The fingers on his face gently wiped them away, one-by-one. "Oh right, to return to the pagans?" Gabriel asked with a soft smile.

"O-or Heaven," Sam managed to say.

"And what might be a reason I decide to do such a thing?"

"You were a-a Trickster." Sam remembered the months he'd spent hunting the archangel after the Mystery Spot—knew the being's patterns of movement and behaviors. Even Raphael described him as impulsive and flighty.

"He thinks you'll get bored of domestic life," Dean provided, "and either return to Heaven with Raphael like a good angel or dish out justice against the dicks of the Earth."

"Are those my only two options? Because yikes." Gabriel grimaced.

"It's not a bad thing," Sam said, ignoring the part of him that screamed 'yes, it is!' "You're the Archangel of Justice. God's Messenger. You were made with a purpose." A purpose that went far beyond being a stay-at-home dad to a bunch of misfits.

"That is incredibly insightful. Isn't he insightful, Raphael?" Gabriel kept his gaze trained on Sam.

"Hmm," was Raphael's only response.

"Just one small problem," Gabriel's eyes lit up with gold once again, but this time it was intentional. "You keep forgetting that you are mine. My fledgling. My child. My responsibility. And not just you—I've laid claim to all stray Winchesters and their adopted angels. So, if I do leave this bunker, I'm taking all of you with me."

What? Sam frowned in confusion. Where did that response fit within the "confirmation or lies" spectrum?

"We could start our own pantheon," Mary said, smirking.

"There are many goddesses who embody motherhood and hunting," Castiel mused. "You could easily stand among them."

"Oh, Diana and Artemis would adore you," Gabriel agreed, "and Hecate has already demanded we visit her soon. She may try to keep us in her realm for a few ages."

Sam struggled to follow the wistful turn in conversation. Why couldn't they just acknowledge the inevitable and move on? Why draw out this fantasy?

"Of course, Heaven sounds pretty interesting too," Mary continued. "Imagine all the things we could teach the angels—especially with our old friends to help out."

"You have no idea!" Gabriel grinned. "The souls are revolutionizing how Heaven functions. Human creativity combined with divine knowledge? It's mind blowing. Not to mention all the slang and pop culture references the angels are learning in the process!"

"Bobby's teaching pop culture?" Sam asked distantly.

The enormity of their old mentor's presence in the Garden hadn't quite registered at the time but it was slowly sinking in. Raphael's previous stories of souls organizing had sounded like fairy tales. But could their friends really create lasting change in Heaven?

"Sam," Mary said in a quiet voice. He looked at her, blinking until her face came fully into focus. She smiled. "I think you're missing the point, love."

"What point?" He hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

Mary stood and walked around the table to crouch beside him and Gabriel. "It's okay to prepare for the future. And things will change over time. But that doesn't mean you have to prepare alone." She gently held one of his hands between her own. "All those people you lost in the past are now working toward a better future together—a future that includes you and me and Dean and all the angels."

"Even Cas?" he whispered.

"Do you think anyone would have peace in Heaven if Dean knew Castiel was being kept away from us?" Her eyes sparkled as she grinned.

Sam didn't know how she could exude so much joy and confidence when he felt like his world was shattering piece by piece. But her smile was infectious and he found himself returning it. "Probably not," he sniffed. "Dean has a way of annoying his way out of bad situations to get what he wants."

"It's a gift," Dean said.

"I just…" Sam trailed off, unsure how to put his fears into words without repeating himself. No one spoke as they waited for him to continue. "Our lives change really fast all the time—and I wake up every day expecting it to change for the worse." His breath caught in his throat. "The better things get, the more scared I get because I won't… I can't…"

"Won't what, Sammy?" Mary asked.

"Make it," he muttered, shrugging slightly to lessen the severity of the truth.

Mary's arms wrapped him up tight and pulled him onto her lap. She held him in a silent, fierce embrace. Her heartbeat pounded against his cheek and he didn't think she'd ever felt so real. Gradually, Sam relaxed, muscles melting to conform to his mother's body.

"When Dean was born, I'd hold him just like this for hours," she whispered in a broken voice. "He was so tiny, so fragile—I feared that the smallest thing might break him. And when I got pregnant with you, I thought I'd be better. But I was even worse. I needed to feel your chest rise and fall, your breath against my skin, so I'd know you were okay. That you were still there."

Sam nodded, rocked by how much he identified with his mother's story. He turned his face into her shirt and pressed harder. Every moment with her somehow felt like his last and it made him want to live in those fleeting minutes forever.

"I still feel that fear," she muttered into the top of his hair, "when I hear about things you survived—or the times you didn't survive and someone brought you back. I hate that you've suffered so much you anticipate it. And that you expect to be alone through it all."

A shudder moved through Sam's grace and into his small frame. Mary ran fingers through his curls and Gabriel smoothed down the quivering wings until Sam settled. Each person in the room radiated a unique energy—a reminder that he was not alone today.

"I know words are empty if not backed up by actions," Gabriel said softly, "and I don't want to make big flowery promises about things that are outside my control. So, how about this—can we agree as a group to prepare for things together? We can make as many contingency plans as we need. Plans for if we join the pagans, plans for returning to Heaven, plans for building a Hunters' Hostel here in Kansas or starting a bakery in Brazil. But let's plan together so there's no more 'what if's' to worry about. Okay?"

Could it be that simple? Sam wondered. Dean had always been more of a "shoot first, hope for the best" kind of guy. They'd made a few contingency plans over the years, but most of Sam's preparations for the future had been done in silence.

"What do you think, Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam heard his brother smiling. "You want to prepare for the future with the guys who probably helped map out the creation of the universe? Sounds like pretty advanced geekiness, if you ask me."

Sam reluctantly pulled away from Mary. As much as he wanted to remain cocooned against her forever, this conversation required eye contact. He blinked until her smile came into focus.

A glance around the room showed a mixture of eager hopefulness and muted grief. Everyone had something to lose, and everything to gain. Maybe the others needed this newly formed family as much as he did.

"I think… I'd like to try," he said. Most of his life had been decided by others. He'd rarely been offered choices that didn't include world-wide consequences or personal devastation. Group planning like this would be new.

"That's my boy," Mary beamed, kissing his forehead.

Kisses and smiles and mothers were new too. Worth fighting for. But maybe he could keep it all without fighting this time.

"Also, as a side note—telling yourself that it's okay for me to abandon everyone because I've got some fancy titles?" Gabriel tapped his nose with a fingertip. "Not a justification. You're worth better than that, understand? I expect you to raise those standards—get them at least a few inches off the ground. Okay?"

"I didn't know I had any standards," Sam said honestly, grinning in amazement, "but I guess I can try that too."

"I'd sure appreciate it," Gabriel huffed.

Everything was new.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

OMFG! FOUR MONTHS?! FOUR FUCKING MONTHS?!
A huge THANK YOU to everyone who continues to read and support this series!
Life has been a rollercoaster since moving and it hasn't slowed down yet. I've started a new job that leaves me exhausted beyond words each day. I worked over 60hrs last week alone. BUT the overtime is gonna get me a car...and then I can reevaluate my options. My writing and art are very important to me, and I'm not willing to compromise on them forever.
In the meantime, I'm writing when I have the energy and mental capacity...hence the four months between updates. Rest assured, I have every intention of continuing this series for a very long while! There are MANY fics left to write in BTGOG alone...not to mention other series I have in mind ;)

Again, I cannot thank all of you enough for your support and comments! I'm gonna try to answer them all 3
Hopefully, I can get the next chapter out a little faster!