Chapter Text
Ramiel watched Narfi for yet another day. His guise today was a waspish brunette lady with entirely forgettable features. It felt awkward overlaid over his own body, but he dealt with it. He hadn’t spent so long finding and rebuilding his original body to leave it now. The new look itched over his own, the magic a tad too close to his skin to stop it from being noticed. The nervous shifting the itch gave him only made his look more believable, so he didn’t try to stop it.
Instead, he watches Narfi on his most current date. The god seemed to have a parade of ever-changing dates of all persuasions. It even impressed Ramiel, who had his own fair share of partners throughout history. You had to get through the centuries somehow. Perhaps Ramiel was only put off by this behaviour because the date became dinner at the end. He'd yet to see Narfi not get peckish at the end.
Logically, Ramiel knew that as a demon, he should hardly be shocked at such things. Maybe. But he had lived on Earth for centuries now, and you don’t stay as off the radar as he had without going a little native. In his time, Ramiel had gone a lot native. The thought of eating your date... it actually sickened him a little.
As Narfi leaves with the woman he had been sweet-talking, Ramiel follows along behind. Idling far enough behind them and nattering away to nobody on his phone that he just seemed like a tipsy woman on the way home with a friend to talk to for support. He kept his casual gait even as the path changed from Narfi’s normal route to somewhere new. Was he finally going to be handed a victory?
Ramiel slows a little as Narfi turns into a fancy apartment building, reaching out to sense that power as it ascends to the top floor. It seems Ramiel has finally gotten lucky. This close to the building, he can feel that there are more gods inside, further proof that he’s finally found the main home of their targets. Even if there’s no trace of anything angelic. He feels a wicked smile try to form as he heads past the building and down the next street. Doubling back once he was sure he was unobserved. He's not about to let his excitement ruin so much hard work.
Turning himself completely invisible, he begins his next watch. Drifting into a shadowy alcove to sit and wait. Merging himself with the landscape to become utterly beneath anyone’s notice. Even if anyone had an inkling there was something here, they wouldn’t want to be bothered by it; they’d merely think it was someone else’s problem.
Ramiel can be patient. He has them now. He just needs their routine. A curl of anticipation runs through him as he waits. He can’t wait to see Lucifer at work again and alongside the Winchesters? If the others are anything like Narfi it’s going to be glorious to see them in their vengeance.
...
Sam had to admit there was some joy in being on a case with Dean again. That they had immediately ended up at cross purposes about what could have caused it only added to the delightful normality of it all. He wasn’t surprised in the least that the moment they met the Wiccan Dean had decided that she must be the cause. His brother was nothing if not predictable. So, Sam had happily sent him and Castiel off to investigate Beth the Social Worker while he focused back onto the Peterson family.
Something in Sam had stirred around that family, whether it was the grace shot through him or his own instincts? He didn’t know. What Sam did know was that there was something deeply wrong about that family, and once it was dark, he was going to find out. Until then, he was trying to find out more about the family before he went back there.
Nothing he found out he liked.
They kept to themselves and were highly God fearing. After actually meeting God, Sam thought that their fear was severely misplaced. The God he knew was more likely to cause deep frustration than anything else. You only had to look at the gift he and Lucifer had been given to see that. There was always small print somewhere. Sam also thought that anyone who based their life around fearing God to define themselves? They usually had something to hide. At least in his line of work.
That he’d shared his frustrations with Lucifer while the family had been going all religious at him and Dean? It had been hard to keep a straight face as Lucifer went on a rant about humanity and their use of religion as an excuse to be terrible to others. Even with the smug overtone from the archangel about how it just proved him right about all too many humans, it didn’t dent the delight Sam had felt.
When night fell, Sam crept across the grounds of the house. The same uncomfortable feeling from earlier was making his skin crawl. Something here was deeply wrong, and he had to find out what it was. The basement window drew him in, and with some care, he crouched to look into the space they hadn’t been able to scope out earlier. It didn’t take more than a second to see that disturbing tableau to know he was completely correct. He darts back to call Dean; he knows he's going to need some backup to deal with this mess.
In another universe, Sammy gets interrupted on the phone with his brother. In that universe, Sam is taken down by a blow to the head as he tries to talk the psychic’s brother down. What a difference a little grace makes.
“Okay, listen to me, we can help your sister. I just need you to trust me here,” Sam says, trying to pour as much honesty into his words as he can. Imploring with the young man with the shotgun before him, because surely he has to see what Sam saw in the basement is wrong.
Sam’s head moves before he even realises he’s doing it. Twisting down as his body shifts to the left, his hand rises to stop the piece of timber heading directly for his face. Both he and Abraham Peterson share a look of absolute shock for one heart-stopping second before Sam wrenches the wood from the man’s hands. “She’s your daughter, you have to see this is wrong!”
“The devil is inside her,” Abraham says, as Elijah stands nervously to one side. Not yet a danger, but not entirely safe either. “Through her, he has murdered people. She must be punished.”
“The devil,” Sam says, unable to stop himself from smirking a little at the thought of Lucifer caring enough about any humans to do this, even before the mark was removed. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No, it is you who does not know!” A voice cries to the side of Sam as Gail Peterson rounds the side of the house, knife in hand. “My daughter is evil, and you will not bring more of Satan’s influence to this house!”
Sam took a couple of slow steps back as he took in the knife she was holding. He hoped his brother and Castiel would get there soon and wished, not for the first time, that Dean wasn’t so against his car being moved by angels.
“Your daughter just has a power you don’t understand,” Sam tries to explain, “She needs to be taught how to use it, not punished. Look, she only hurts people because she’s so traumatised! Anyone would lash out like that!”
“Your words are lies sent to twist us from heaven,” Gail continues, only becoming more erratic as she approaches. “The devil tries to reach this family, and we will not be taken. It did not work through our daughter, and it will not work through you!”
Sam slams a hand up as she moves, reaching to stop her as she lunges at him with the knife. She never reaches him. Her body frozen in mid-air, inches from his face. Even as Sam watches her he can see her shaking with the effort to move. Her fear only makes her more and more erratic as she stays fixed in place before him, her eyes growing wilder. As he focuses, he can feel the thrum of the grace beneath his skin and reaching through his arm. Answering to his need. It feels so much more natural than his scant attempts when under the influence of demon blood.
The gun cocks again to his left, and without thinking, he pulls it from the brother’s grip. Yanking it from Elijah’s hands to sail through the air into his own. Abraham falls back before him, muttering about the devil’s work even as he does so. He doesn’t do anything more, though. The family was utterly terrified in their religious fervour.
“No one is killing anyone today,” Sam says, his voice dropping into the serious edge he only gets on hunts. Lowering his right hand carefully as he realises he doesn’t need his hand up to keep the woman in place. He unloads the shotgun into the grass around him before tossing it aside. “I’ve met God and all this? He’d be as creeped out as I am.”
He can see it too, the slight frown and curl of lip on Chuck’s face as the God who shuffled into their kitchen in a dressing gown to eat Chinese at all hours would fail to process what was happening. He can hear the ‘Why would I care?’ as well, in that oddly nervous tone.
Sam can see his words are having zero effect, but then he didn’t expect anything less from people devoted to their own delusions. A mother traumatised by her daughter having strange powers and harming her, using religion as a crutch to explain it and blame her forever. Save her or kill her. It’s frighteningly familiar in purpose. For a moment, he falters, but then he remembers how well Dean has taken to everything so far, it’ll be alright.
“You’re with the Devil,” Gail says, channelling everything into a rant at Sam as she is forced to stand there. “You are the devil’s work, and we will not listen to your words, snake.”
“No, we’re not doing this,” Sam sighs and gestures at the woman, forcing her mouth closed with this new control of grace he now has. It’s strange and familiar all at once, like the return of an old friend. For one insane moment, he thinks about calling Lucifer down. Nothing like putting the fear of God into them like Lucifer himself. He only doesn’t because he doesn’t want there to be three dead bodies to have to explain away. If he’s having issues with this family, then the archangel would probably take their souls straight to hell to make a point.
Sam turns to the two men who have been trembling as they look at him in terror. It’s clear that Gail is the power in this family. Everything pivoted around her.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Sam says firmly, “You’re going to release your daughter, and I’m going to take her away somewhere safe. You’re not going to try and find her, or me.”
“You will make her the devil’s whore!” Abraham says, his anger overcomes his fear as he tries to advance into Sam’s face in some strange intimidation. He doesn’t get far as Sam’s frustration peaks, and he sends him and his son down to the ground to sit unmoving. The power just comes so easily now he’s found it. His head doesn’t even hurt.
“She’s your daughter,” Sam exclaims, utterly done with this family, “Unbelievable.”
He stalks past them into the house. Picking the lock on the basement to find Magda curled up and looking at him in shock from the floor.
“Hi Magda, I’m Sam,” he says, crouching down a little as he approaches her, not getting too close, “I’m here to help you. Your family can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I’m not Magda, I’m the devil. I’m evil. I deserve it,” Magda whispers, curling further in on herself, and Sam fights the urge to call for Lucifer again. It might have been easier for him, but it wouldn't be for Magda.
“You’re not evil and you’re not the devil, Magda,” Sam says, “You’ve just been hurt and have powers you don’t understand yet.”
“I hurt people,” Magda says, “I tried to get help. I tried to reach out to them, but mother tells me they died. That I killed them.”
“If you come with me, we can take you somewhere safe. My brother and I, we hunt monsters. You’re not a monster. Once you have control, you’ll never have to worry about hurting anyone again,” Sam says, “There are so many people out there who have powers and none of them are the devil either. They use their powers to help people, so can you.”
Magda doesn’t say anything, but there’s hope in her eyes. A fragile, tentative hope, and it kills Sam to see. She’s been through so much at the hands of her family, but there’s still that innocent hope that all their torment couldn’t kill.
“How do you know?” Magda asks, glancing from Sam to the cross that dominates one wall of the room and back again.
“I’ve seen evil, Magda. You’re not it,” Sam says, and he pulls off his jacket to wrap around her shoulders as he suddenly has an armful of crying teenager. Guiding her slowly through the house and out into the night.
“You alright there, Sammy?” Dean calls, and Sam relaxes at last as he sees his brother approaching. Castiel not far behind him standing guard over the family with a curious look on his face. He can feel the angel’s gaze boring into the side of his face as he focuses on his brother.
“Magda has power and they were torturing her for it,” Sam explains, “She can’t stay here.”
“Looks like we needed to know about Beth after all,” Dean says with a shrug, turning a little more to Beth to give her a reassuring smile, “You’re going to be alright now. How about we get you sat down in my car while we call some people to help.”
Sam ushers Magda over into Dean’s hands. Watching them shuffle towards the car a moment before heading over towards Castiel and the three stuck-in-place family members.
“You accessed the grace,” Castiel states, gesturing at the family. It’s clear the angel has been studying his handiwork.
“Being attacked is very motivating,” Sam says, “That and they were talking about heaven like what they were doing would get them there. They used God as an excuse for everything.”
Castiel looks over Sam’s shoulder at the traumatised girl sitting in the car and scoffs. The angel turned with a look of scornful disbelief at the three in front of him. Then, taking in the shotgun shells and the knife still frozen in the woman’s hand. His low opinion of the family is clear in every action.
“I’m surprised you didn’t call him in.”
“I think he would have taken the phrase heavenly retribution all too literally,” Sam sighs, rubbing at the back of his head a little. Turning to the family, he adds with a vain hope, “Now I’m going to release you and we’re going to have a civilised discussion about things.”
Sam reaches down to pry the knife from Gail and puts it into his belt before he finally frees them from his hold. It sends an odd shudder through the grace within him, almost as if it’s upset that it’s no longer being used.
“God’s will shall see you punished for your actions!” Gail says, immediately launching into another diatribe as her family falls around her. “None shall escape his judgement.”
“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Castiel growls, rolling his eyes, and Sam already knows what he’s going to do before he does it. The shadow of large angel wings spreads out across the ground behind him, the true presence of them shimmering in the air as his eyes light with grace. It’s an intimidating and very definite display. There's no mistaking the presence of an angry angel, no matter who you are. “You are completely and utterly wrong.”
Sam has to force back a laugh as the three before him scramble back, only to fall to their knees. Their religion-induced fears turned to true fear in the face of angelic reality.
“In God’s name,” Abraham manages before realising what he said and going quiet.
“I told you I’d met him,” Sam is unable to resist adding, and he can’t help the sharp feeling of delight as the people in front of him flinch.
In the end, it’s rather remarkable what the sight of an angel will do even for people like the Peterson’s. It had been easy to have them admit everything they had done to Magda, minus the powers, to Beth and the police. They also easily signed over full custody to the state and eventually to Magda’s aunt. There was going to be a criminal case, but that wasn’t an issue either with Castiel’s harsh warnings over just how far they had to come to find heaven again. You don’t get to heaven by torturing your family after all. Sam wondered if they’d only turned them religiously fervent in another potentially dangerous way, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. Magda was going to be safe now.
…
So, Cas put them in their place? Lucifer’s voice was a laugh in the back of Sam’s mind as he sat drinking a beer to their success at the motel they stopped at that night. The ache in his chest at the distance between them easing somewhat as he sat at the motel table looking blankly out the window.
“And I got comments about Cas and my more profound bond,” Dean gripes from across him before his brother disappears to the nearby bar. Sam ignores him; it's only fair that he got a little angelic payback of his own after the years he’s had to put up with his brother and Castiel.
That he did. If he’d been any more annoyed, he’d have blinded them all with the true vision of his wings, Sam snorts, drinking more of the beer as he uses Dean’s vacated chair as a foot rest. He feels Lucifer’s thoughts on that as the angel merely sends him the deep impression of a smirk. He knows Lucifer wouldn’t think their eyes a great loss on any day. There’s something that’s been quietly bothering him for hours, so he has to ask, How much more do you think I’ll be able to do with the grace? I don’t even feel tired from what I did tonight.
I don’t know Sam, Lucifer sighs, You’ve always been a conduit for power. Now you have grace wrapped through your soul. There’s never been anything like us before. Does it really matter?
How long until I’m no longer human? Sam whispers the thought, almost unwilling to voice it even to himself. He hadn’t let him feel when he worked; saving Magda had been far more important. The quiet of the motel room gives him far too much time to process, though, and it’s hard not to fall into anxiety about it all.
You have a soul, Sam, Lucifer says. His tone is firm as the weight of his hand ghosts onto Sam’s shoulder. Am I any less an archangel for having some of your soul? You’ll never not be human to some degree. The feeling of the hand tightens, becoming more real as even from heaven, Sam feels the full weight of Lucifer’s attention on him. You’re just becoming something more, and you always have been to me.
For a moment, Sam just sits in that sudden wave of comfort. Steadied if not entirely reassured. He shakes himself a little. He needs to think about other things.
How is heaven?
Oh, I’m having great fun terrorising my siblings, Lucifer’s words collapsing into a deep laugh at the end, I’ve almost made a game out of breaking as many rules and traditions as I can. I think I made Ingrid cry the other day.
What did you do? Sam asks, unable to stop the fond eye roll at Lucifer’s antics.
I made her work with Ash. They share an office now.
The silence of the motel room is broken as Sam hunches over laughing. He can only imagine the look on any staid angel’s face at having to work with Ash. He was a character all by himself, and there’s no way any angel beyond Castiel was in any way prepared for that.
Charlie tries to mediate where she can, but I think Ingrid annoys her, too. For a caretaker, she’s rather inflexible. A little human corruption will be good for her, Lucifer continues, adding to Sam’s quiet laughter. Lucifer’s rolling delight at having shifted Sam’s bad mood only adds to it.
I’m shocked you think some human corruption is good, Sam manages, turning to look back out the window with a smile.
We both know I think those of the Roadhouse are a brilliant exception, and any that make it to heaven have to be worth something, Lucifer retorts, affecting offence, but it’s so clear he’s putting it on.
Well, we have to start you somewhere, Sam says with an amused glint to his eye where Lucifer can’t see it.
…
As Sam falls to sleep, the bond sinking into the long quietude of his rest, Lucifer finally relinquishes his hold on his worry. Sam’s swift access to his grace was unexpected. He knew that Sam would have gained some control eventually. With Sam’s history, it was impossible to think he’d have all that power inside him and not use it. It was the speed of it. Even new angels took years to understand how to use the grace they were made from. Sam had done it in weeks. Yes, he had Lucifer’s memories to help him, but new angels were born with all the knowledge they needed as well.
Lucifer felt they were going to have to rewrite all of the rulebooks when it came to what Sam and he were capable of now, let alone what they became as Samael. Even now, heaven was telling him that Sam was far more strongly connected to the realm than he had been before. Using the grace had done something, and Lucifer couldn’t work out what. Perhaps he just didn’t want to consider the consequences. It was no secret that there was a positive feedback loop between heaven and the angels.
Lucifer had meant what he said when he’d called Sam human, but he wasn’t just human now. Heaven was also a well of power that Sam was irrevocably connected with. Not for the first time since his return to heaven without Sam, he found himself silently cursing his father. The apology had been appreciated, but he could really do with some advice or guidance.
Most of all, he wished he could talk to Gabriel. He was sure his brother, who had spent so much more time around humans, would have ideas. He hoped wherever he was that he was alright, while knowing that he almost certainly wasn’t.
…
“-No, I’ve got this. It seems the Winchesters might be more trouble than we thought. I’ll be in touch,” Ketch says, hanging up the phone and following the girl into the bathroom.
Someone needed to clean up the Winchesters’ mess.