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Fragile Findings

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Humans, as the dormant angel realizes, are incredibly fragile. Watching his human body grow and turn into what it was. The host’s memory of angels and war faded within the first fifteen years, instead clotted with worldly worries. All had faded, grace seemingly gone, all strains replaced with human memories. The fallen angel didn’t seem to realize their own soul had yet to be unlocked, grace all trapped. It was all a matter of time.

 

Years changed the manipulative fallen angel into a scarred human, one whose grace was locked so deep in their soul that they didn’t even know if it was possible to get back. So many worldly worries buried their mind, even their body becoming a worry once it began sporting a larger chest and wider hips. The oldest caretaker didn’t seem to like the idea that they didn’t like it until the fallen angel argued that keeping him masculine would help out much more during hunts and such, though that took seventeen years and countless nights of sleep lost from both crying and fighting with the caretaker.

 

Samael believed it to be ironic to be born human, especially one cursed as a Winchester, as a vessel to one of the oldest angels. It only helped their case thrive as the male soul was given to a female body that consumed demons blood, warm against warmer lips. The baby still cried, but that didn’t stop them from sending their best regards to the blonde caretaker that laid on the ceiling, dripping blood onto the child.

 

The world shifted beneath their feet, changing and changing more and more until their soul couldn’t even grasp at the straws. Every single thing was locked so deep down that the boy believed the lies the humans and caretakers had planted in his brain. Even after death, after the cage, after the trials went unfinished, after the birth of a Nephilim, after it all, Samael still remained to believe that his name was Samuel, that he was simply a human-demon hybrid with dormant powers. He knew if he consumed another drop of blood, things would shift once again.

 

He finds himself attaching to humans, to angels, to beings. He finds a blonde attractive and houses with her, even planning to marry before everything goes to absolute shit. He finds his true caretaker, an older brother, to be one of the most helpful during all of their adventures, even if they have countless painful experiences. More and more attachments happen, more and more stress that the soul knows it shouldn’t happen but happens anyway. He becomes a caretaker, taking in hunters and such. He takes in as many as he can, becoming what his caretakers couldn’t in both lives

 

Unlocking the grace, however, comes on accident, after a fight with Michael. It doesn’t make sense in his mind as to why that, of all things, was righteous enough to do so. The human stands with a blade to the archangel’s chest, eyes glaring forcefully. Michael smirks, scoffing at the hunter.

 

“Go ahead, Winchester. Kill both of the archangels that could have saved this world. Lucifer, me, it’s all the same. Heaven is going to fall and you’re going to be its ruin.”

 

“That a prophecy they told you in Heaven,” he asks, blade pressing deeper. The angel is powerless, anyway, thanks to hours upon hours of research and sigil drawings.

 

Michael smirks. “It’s a hunch. But, please, go ahead. My vessel, she was such a nice girl. Too bad she died of suffocation the second night of me being in her, though.”

 

Sam finds no reason to continue keeping the angel with them, thrusting the blade forward with a soft grunt. “I’ll pick up the pieces of Heaven if it falls,” Sam whispers to the glowing angel, “That’s a promise.”

 

He pulls back, watching the sputter of light before the body turned into nothing more than a corpse. Castiel smiles widely, proud of the other for finally finishing the angel that had given them all so much trouble. However, it drops as he watches Sam stumble back, groaning. His hands seize, dropping the knife as if all on instinct.

 

“Sam?” He presses forward, the angel doing his best to steady the hybrid. Sam leans against Cas for a moment before straightening up, a bright glow illuminating around him.

 

Jack stares, so much concern in the Nephilim, despite him holding Dean’s unconscious form. Mary and Bobby were both downstairs somewhere, cleaning up what they could from the fight. The human stands tall, eyes glowing brightly as the wings expand, unfolding and burning at the flesh that rips with it in order to display them. Three sets of wings, all healthy and glowing. They don’t take a physical form, not as Castiel pulls away to examine the one that seems so neutral. Grace radiates around him, burning brighter than the seventh sun.

 

“Sam,” Castiel whispers, worry clear in his voice.

 

Billy stands clear next to the four, so sudden with her pop-in that even Cas flinches. The forming angel, however, only turns to look at Death.

 

“Do you understand your purpose now, Angel of Death,” she asks, calm as ever. If someone had told them that she would once be seeking out that the Winchesters were dead, there would have been scoffs, especially since she seemed to be protecting them now. She smiles softly as the wings fall dormant, light fading. The wings are tucked somewhere, though only Sam truly knows where. “We’ve waited a long time for this. With all the big baddies of Heaven out of the way, you’ve shown yourself to God himself that you never deserved the fall. We’ve missed you, Samael.” She bows, slow and comforting.

 

Sam stares as his grace powers down into nothing more than a brightly burning soul. “I… I’m not an angel?”

 

Billy shakes her head. “With time, you’ll find out who you really are. Once you do, come and find me.” Just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, leaving only the faint trace of her essence there.

 

That just confuses Sam even more as he falls to his knees, scanning around the room with dim eyes. Every single sigil seems to be faded or broken in some way, walls even cracked in some places. Sam graciously accepts as Cas offers support to the new-found angel.

 

Cas carefully pulls Sam up, helping him through the halls. He’s pale and clammy with sweat. He’s just barely standing. Jack follows behind them, careful with Dean’s body. They don’t speak, just moving in sync as Sam nears his limit more and more as they go on. By the time they get to the Impala, Sam passes out. Castiel commands Jack to watch the two hunters, though he clearly already had no intent on leaving them as Castiel went to find the two veteran hunters.