Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Goodbye, Stranger

The shadows were moving, whizzing all about the room like a hive of hornets. They dipped and twisted in vicious circles, and Alex distantly heard a pained groan of protest. It took her a second to realize where that noise had come from. It had come from her. Everything felt disjointed. Her mind felt like it was floating ten feet above her body, but as the shadows slowly came into focus, so did her mind descend back into her head. She was in the bunker; she recognized that wall, that desk. Sam's room. Another loud whine crept forth when she tipped her head, and then suddenly the angel could feel.

Her shoulder.

"Hey hey hey." Sam was at her side in an instant — where had he come from? "Don't move. Alex, stay still." His voice carried a sharp note of command, and Alex's first instinct was to simply obey. She stilled, forcing her eyes open wide enough to make out the silhouette of the tall, broad hunter. "Okay." A warm hand brushed hair out of her face, and the angel let her eyes fall closed at the touch. "You need to stay still, okay? You're still in really bad shape."

"How ..." The word caught in her parched throat, and Alex couldn't find the strength to force out another word.

"How long?" the hunter guessed. "Two days. You scared us, Pip." Worry tinged his voice as the hand disappeared, and Alex felt air push its way up through her mouth in protest, but she wasn't strong enough to make a sound. "We couldn't find you after you disappeared from the warehouse. We searched everywhere — all we found was a lot of blood, and we —"

"You're awake." The sound of that low, familiar voice had Alex struggling to sit up, eyes wide as she tried to peer behind Sam, but the hunter firmly pressed her down into the bed. Alex let out a small shriek of surprise and pain, and then Sam was abruptly shoved away. "You're hurting her," Castiel growled, his large, blue wings stretching out in warning for the hunter to stay away from his injured mate. He held Sam's gaze until the Winchester finally held up his hands in surrender. His eyebrows lifted, surprised at the seraph's possession, but he eventually nodded and slipped out of the room.

"Cas?" The name came out as a croak, but it was enough to draw Castiel's attention back to her. "I..."

"Shh." Castiel's grace stretched out to curl comfortingly around hers as he sat down on the side of the bed. "You need to rest." He looked down as Alex's hand reached out, trembling under the effort, and he took it in his own. "You're badly hurt."

"I'm fine." Her voice was starting to return, and with it some of her strength, and the young angel looked down at her throbbing shoulder. Her shirt had been removed, allowing her to see the thick white gauze that covered her injury. "I ... I don't remember what happened." She looked back up at Castiel. "I remember praying to you, but after that ..."

"You were unconscious when I found you." The seraph ran his thumb over the back of Alex's hand, and his face darkened as he recalled the harrowing memory. "And you were laying in your own blood. The Winchesters told me you were wounded by one of Artemis' knives," he added. "You're lucky; her weapons can kill everything short of an archangel himself."

"No shit." Alex's wings twitched, and she growled out a note of pain through clenched teeth. "But not even Lucifer's grace helped—" She cut off abruptly, regretting her words in front of Castiel, but when the seraph didn't outwardly seem to care, she slowly continued, "I ... I think it tried to help b-before I passed out, but ... but I think that's what caused me to black out."

"I did warn you," another voice chastised, tone almost on the verge of smugness had worry not been weighing it down, and Castiel's wings immediately flared up.

"I told you to stay away," he growled, turning and rising to his feet, and Alex craned her head to see the outline of the archangel.

"Gabriel?" She cleared her throat when the word stuck, and her voice grew sharp. "You shouldn't be here. The Winchesters —"