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Once Gadreel reached the top of the stairs he didn’t look back. He knew Dean wasn’t following him, he could hear his muffled gasps from where he stood. He sighed and closed his eyes trying to block out the crying he heard below him.
Picking up the duffel bag that he’d laid at his feet - the one bag that was filled with what so many people had risked their lives for, what so many had died for, what he’d just killed an innocent human over - he took a deep breath. Calm flowed through his grace, through his entire body, erasing his anxiety. He had done the right thing. He had done what had to be done.
Gadreel brushed his hand across the space in front of him; the door obeying the simple command and sweeping open almost silently.
As he stepped outside, he felt bitter air compared to the warm familiar atmosphere of the bunker. A sharp chill ran up Sam’s spine as he made his way across the road.
Gravel crunching under his feet, he turned and headed in the direction of the closest town, needing to find a way back to Metatron. They had promised to meet once the deed was done, once his fidelity was confirmed.
But he couldn’t help himself. Gadreel paused and looked back despite himself, sentimentality flowing through his being. As odd as it sounded, he felt weird to leave this place; it had technically been his home too. He liked watching humans. They were interesting and so similar to him. They did what they had to do too, what they believed, and they were broken. Every last one. He enjoyed watching them try to fix the cracks in their souls and some even tried to convince themselves they were fine. Those people, in his mind were foolish and ordinary.
But hunters? They knew they were broken and they went through miles of winding and dangerous road for the greater good. They did horrible, ugly things to beat all kinds of horrendous creatures for the sake of saving the lives of those who knew no better, and even those who they fought aside.
He sighed. He would miss Dean. No, he would miss his trust. He would miss the warmth, the friendliness and the reassurance. Dean believed he was doing something incredible and if Gadreel could almost pretend he felt the same way… Almost…
What he was welcomed with was hard. Despite Dean’s attempts to keep his feelings hidden beneath the surface, they showed on occasion. Even after begging him to heal his companions, Sam included, he was panicked and scared but there was always that after wave of relief and peace that came from him. He’d thought he solved this issue, he’d thought they were saved.
“Thank you Zeke.”
Every time Gadreel heard that statement leave Dean’s mouth he felt his tattered grace twist with guilt as he let Sam’s soul move back into the surface.
Dean had trusted him to fix Sam and in all honesty he had done exactly that. Gadreel recalled first seeing the mess that was Sam Winchester; it had been ugly and horrible but he had managed to fix him as best he could. He did keep that promise.
But there was still much that needed repair. Sam was in no way perfect but at this point he was functional on his own; Gadreel could leave if he saw fit but selecting another vessel was a challenge and task he did not have time for.
Being in Sam’s mind he knew quickly that having the trust of Dean was no mean feat. So many times over their lives, both of the brothers’ trust had been stretched and he felt bad for deceiving someone who’d been through so much, but like all the ways he had manipulated Dean, Dean had manipulated too. Dean had attempted to deceive Gadreel not 20 minutes earlier. He was clever he’d give him that.
But he had to let go of Dean now and focus on what was ahead of him. Dean was nothing more than an obstacle now.
The road was dark as he faded back into reality and realized he’d been staring at the bunker, lost in thought. Now, he had another goal. He had to prove to his family that he was innocent, that his intentions were pure and his motives were clear. He would rescue them from this horrible tragedy and he would lead them into greatness, just like God had intended.
He started down the road sweeping Sam’s long legs into a swift pace enough to take his mind off this world for a little while. Strangely he felt his lips move in peculiar ways, he recognized it as whistling. Even odder, he felt a tune from a different time, that first time he and Dean had driven in the Impala, the first song he’d heard through Sam’s ears. The lyrics and tune were calming and as he walked along the road, he knew that his journey would be long but in the end it would be worth it; in the name of
Redemption.