Raised From Perdition Part 7

 

Dani thought she’d just imagined the kid’s eyes flashing bright blue, but it happened several more times before he completely lost consciousness just outside of town.  Each time it happened, his demeanor changed, one moment he was frightened and trembling and would accept Dani’s comfort, then he would stiffen, no less scared but more reserved, with some urgency like there was something he desperately needed to do. 

Once they got back to the bunker, Sam pulled him out of the backseat and carried in inside.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Dani asked Dean as she followed close behind Sam. 

“It’s the best option we got right now,” Dean answered.  “I’ll try to get Cas here.  He can fix him.”

“Ok.”  She nodded.  By now they’d reached the first bedroom off the hall and Sam laid Alfie on the bed.  Dani sighed and took his hand again, feeling for a pulse that was barely there.  His skin was ice cold, even though it glistened with a thin layer of sweat.  She wrinkled her nose; his scent was starting to take on a sickly tinge; the way dead people smelled.  “Tell Cas to hurry.”

                                                            . . .

Sam and Dean sat at the table in the bunker’s main room. 

“Come on Cas, we need a hand here,” Dean said. “How long has it been?”  He looked at Sam.

Sam sighed and looked at his watch.  “About twelve minutes.  You know it takes him a while sometimes.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made a show of folding his hands in a prayer position. 

They’d barely gotten started again when someone knocked on the door. 

“There he is.”  Dean got up and came back a moment later, Castiel behind him.

“What’s wrong,” Castiel asked, jumping right to the point.  “There are angels nearby, in town, did they—“ He stopped short, the color draining from his face.  “Samandriel.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded.  “That’s what we called you about.  See--”

“Sam!”  Dani yelled, her voice panicked.  “Sam!”

All three hurried into the room where they’d left her.  Dani sat on the bed, close to Alfie.  She leaned over him worriedly, one hand on the side of his face.  Thick lines of dark blood trickled from each of his nostrils. 

“That just started,” Dani said, glancing up at them.

“It’s the exertion,” Castiel said.  He moved to the side of the bed.  “Samandriel is trying to save them but his grace is nearly spent.”

“Can’t you fix him?” Dani asked.

Castiel shook his head.  “I can’t use that amount of power on another angel’s vessel.  We cannot, it’s why we don’t just vaporize each other when we fight.” 

“So you can’t heal him.”

“No.”  Castiel gazed down at him sadly.  “No, I’m afraid it’s up to him.”

                                                . . .

Dani woke at the movement next to her.  She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  She’d stayed with Samandriel/Alfie all night.  Sam had offered to take a turn, but she’d refused.  He’d wanted her with him before so she was going to stay now. 

            Samandriel stirred again.  He groaned quietly as he raised himself to his elbows. 

            “Hey, take it easy.”  Dani sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down.  He didn’t resists.  She swept her gaze over him.  “You look better; not quite half dead.  How do you feel?”

            He sighed and relaxed a little under her hand.  “I don’t know.  Strange.”

            “Well, I guess that’s to be expected.”  She leaned back against the headboard.  “My name’s—“

            “Daniella Webster,” he finished for her. 

            Dani started and averted her gaze.  He’d looked at her like he knew her.  “Actually, I prefer Dani.”  She looked at him crosswise.  “How do you know that?”  No one had said her full name in front of him, she was sure.

            Samandriel’s pale cheeks took on just a hint of color.  “Before my…accident, my next mission was to find you.  It was right after you’d run from your last foster home.  I was supposed to watch over you until the time was right for you to meet the Winchesters.”  He paused.  “I am sorry I wasn’t able to.”

            Dani turned her head away, trying to hide a smile. 

            “Is something amusing?”  Samandriel asked, confused.

            “No,” Dani shook her head.  “It’s just… You’re my guardian angel?”

            “In a sense.”

            “No offence, but you’re not very intimidating.”

                                                                        . . .

            “Well, it looks like the angels have cleared out,” Sam said as he and Dean walked back into the bunker. 

            “Let’s hope,” Dean answered, then called, “Dani!”

            “Shh,” came her voice from another room.  She sat on the couch, the TV playing at low volume.  Alfie lay on the couch as well, curled up with only his legs touching Dani’s, his eyes closed.

            “Is he asleep?” Sam asked.

            Dani nodded.

            “But angels don’t sleep.”

            “Apparently they do when they’ve been mostly dead,” Dani answered.  Her expression softened when she looked back down at Samandriel.  “You know, I know he’s probably centuries old at least, in this vessel…”

            “He just looks like a kid,” Dean finished.  He felt bad about what had happened to Alfie.  Being captured and tortured by Crowley was bad enough, but after was just unfair.  He’d been all right, for an angel, and all he’d wanted to do was help.  Maybe if he and Sam had gotten out there sooner they could have kept Cas from stabbing him.  Before he could continue too far down that line of thought his attention was arrested by the TV.  “What are you watching?”

            Dani shrugged.  “It’s a show I watched when I was a kid.  I found in on Netflix.  They tell bible stories.”

            Sam drew his eyebrows together.  “What are they?”

            “Uh,” Dani fiddled with her hair.  “They’re supposed to be vegetables.”

            “Seriously?” Dean asked.

            “Well what was I supposed to show an angel?” Dani demanded.  “Most of the stuff you watch would traumatize him.”

            Sam chuckled.  “She has a point.  We don’t even want to see those.”

            “Yeah, whatever,” Dean said, stepping toward the door.  “Just remember Dani, he probably is centuries old so don’t get taken in by those big brown eyes.”

            “They’re blue,” Dani corrected.

            “Oops, it’s too late,” Sam teased them both. 

            “Shut up,” Dani hissed, half laughing.  She glanced around looking for something to toss at them, but didn’t find anything.  “Y’all get out of here before you wake him up.”

                                                                        . . .

            Samandriel padded down the hall, trying not to draw attention to himself.  He wasn’t sure any of the Winchesters would let him leave and he was too tired to argue with them.  He just wanted to get outside of the bunker, out into the open air, for a little while.  He was starting to feel trapped in that bedroom, and the bunkers seemingly endless halls were only making it worse. 

            He rounded a corner to find Castiel coming down the hall.  He started, remembering Castiel leaning over him as Samandriel clung to him, thinking that now he might be safe.  But then he’d felt the knife slide into his chest and…

            He stumbled back, cowering against the wall almost before he realized he’d done it. 

            “It’s all right,” Castiel said gently, a mixture of pain and sadness in his eyes.  He held out a cautious hand, like a human would to a snarling dog.  “I don’t wish you any harm.”  Castiel hesitated, then stepped closer.  “Samandriel, I am very sorry for what I did to you.  I—“

            “It’s all right,” Samandriel cut him off, taking a breath and straightening.  Of course it was all right.  Castiel wouldn’t hurt him, would he?  Not again.  “I’m sorry, I know it was Naomi’s fault, wasn’t it.  You were…she was…”

            “Yes.” Castiel nodded and some of the tension between them relaxed. 

            Yes, Samandriel told himself.  That had been Naomi’s fault.  This was Castiel; the one he’d known before all the mess in heaven started.  His brother. 

            But with the lessoning of that anxiety, the guilt that was driving Samandriel outside returned; a gnawing emptiness in his chest.  “Castiel,” he said, his voice small, near breaking.

            Castiel furrowed his brow.  “What is it?”

            “I lost my vessel,” Samandriel said, averting his gaze.  “He’s gone.”

            “Alfie is dead?”

            “Matt,” Samandriel corrected.  “His given name was Matthew Alfred Pike.  He was a good person, a young man of faith.  He had plans, a life ahead of him.  And now he’s dead and it’s my fault.”  His throat tightened and tears welled up in his eyes.

            Castiel moved toward him and laid a hand on his shoulder.  “You tried to save him,” he said.  “I felt the struggle; you did what you could.”

            “But it wasn’t enough.”  Samandriel shook his head.  “I couldn’t save him, it wasn’t enough.”

            “You were very weak.”

            “Then it should have been him,” Samandriel insisted, reaching up to brush away the tears now sliding down his face.  “If only one of us could live it should have been him.  Even if it killed me I should have used the last of my power to save him.  I told him I would protect him. That’s our job.  I should have—“ He stifled a sob and took a shuddering breath, then whispered, “I should have saved him.” 

            “Listen to me, Little Brother,” Castiel said, tightening his grip on Samandriel’s arm.  Samandriel pressed his lips together and looked Castiel in the eye for the first time.  “What happened to him wasn’t your fault.  Mine, Naomi’s, but not yours.  You did what you could.”  Samandriel started to say something else but Castiel continued before he could.  “You say Matt, he was a man of faith; he trusted our Father?”  Samandriel nodded.  “And do you still trust our Father?”

            “Yes.”  Samandriel nodded again, and Castiel was struck by the utter trust, the complete lack of hesitation.  “Of course.”

            “Then you know, and he would understand, that our Father would not have allowed him to die, if it wasn’t his time.”  Castiel held his gaze for a moment, until Samandriel nodded, visibly trying to regain control of himself. 

            He sniffed.  “I suppose you’re right.”