Who: Henry and Samandriel What: Henry arrives and needs a little help Where: Samandriel's Apartment When: Backdated to Henry's arrival Rating: Low Status: Completed
He was cold. Colder than he ever remembered being before. Everything hurt and he wasn’t sure he was able to move until he concentrated on lifting his hand and felt it hit against something solid. Feeling along whatever was above him he eventually found a corner and realized that he was in a box, a box in a particular shape. He was in a coffin.
Henry Winchester was dead, and if he didn’t figure out how to get out and have his wound tended to he was going to stay that way.
Dean had been correct, going back to change the past was folly, and his grandson was backed up by the letter he found in his coat before their encounter at the store. It said he couldn’t go home again but he would always have a home in Preya. At first he thought it was Abaddon planning something, then that Josie might have been trying to reach out to him, whatever it was the whole thing felt a little off. In what he thought would be a wasted effort he prepared a spell, one that might give him more time if something happened, before he allowed Dean to cuff him and take him into meet the Knight of Hell.
After a last few encouraging words to his grandsons he let himself slip into the death-like trance to keep himself as stable as he could, something he likely should have shared with Sam and Dean. He hadn’t anticipated being buried so quickly, but he had to admire how efficient the boys were. But pride was something he could feel when he was free of his coffin. He pulled the letter from where he’d hidden it and focused on where it had come from, whispering the words as he used his own blood and nearly depleted soul for power.
When the darkness was replaced with bright light and the cold of snow around him, Henry put a hand on the wound at his belly and blinked slowly as he called out weakly, “Help.” That seemed to take all that was left of his strength before he felt his eyes close and the world around him went black again.
Samandriel liked the snow. He liked the snow and the peace and the sort of near to Hakkon he was. Too close to Hakkon, though. He was ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was.
He felt magic shudder near him and looked over to see a man as out of place as he was drop to his knees and then start staining the world around him a little more red. Winchesters. It was always Winchesters. This was was okay, though.
Samandriel walked over to him and collected him, bringing him back home and getting him settled as he healed him and tried to give his soul time and space in the quiet to recover. If Alfie was there...Alfie could help him know what humans wanted most when they were hurt or when they thought they were still hurt. Soup. He could make soup while Henry rested. That would be good.
“Mmm,” Henry knew that wasn’t at all coherent but words seemed beyond him in that moment. He was still alive and was feeling better, if not incredibly tired. He was thirsty but his heartbeat felt strong, a slow and very gentle poking at his side told him that his wound was gone which meant magic. Perhaps he was dead, he briefly considered it as he looked around the room but then decided it didn’t look like what he’d imagined heaven to be. It felt like it should have taken him more effort to turn his head but he managed to turn it when he heard noise, realizing he wasn’t alone. “Hello?”
Samandriel looked over at the bedroom, glad he’d left the door open so he could hear him. Henry Winchester. The man who fell out of time. The angel guessed this was where he ended up falling. Maybe not directly. Men of letters. Who even knew. He walked over to the door and looked timidly at the man.
“My name is Henry Winchester,” he had to stop and clear his throat, being dead, or rather nearly dead, was not easy on the vocal cords. “I’m supposed to be in Preya. I- Did I make it?” The place looked closer to what time he’d left so he hadn’t screwed up and taken himself back in time, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if he’d failed and ended up back in Normal.
“I cleaned your shirt,” Samandriel said, “But I didn’t mend it. That seemed intrusive and disrespectful. If you still had holes in your shirt you’d know it wasn’t a dream. I think. It made sense. I- I made soup, but I don’t know how good it is. I’ve never made soup before I don’t think.” The angel frowned a little. “I should’ve warded the rest of the flat. That probably would’ve been more helpful.”
“Soup-” That didn’t answer his question but the idea of the place possibly being warded had his ears up. The young man was trying to help him even if he did seem incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy. “I- Thank you. Who are you?”
“You’re in my flat in Preya,” Samandriel answered. “I healed your wounds. I hope that’s okay. I think...I think it probably upsets the timeline, but you already did that on your own.”
“I take it I was supposed to stay dead? Yes, that would make sense.” Slowly he pushed himself to sit up, expecting pain but feeling none. He’d made it, that was almost as much of a relief as knowing he didn’t have a hole in his belly. “And thank you again, my soul is in desperate need of a recharge and I don’t seem to have what I need to prepare the spell myself, so I am incredibly grateful.”
Samandriel frowned just a little, thinking it all over. “If you can appreciate the delicacy of it and keep yourself still...I could help with that too.”
Henry tilted his head a little, “Are you an angel?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I don’t remember what the spell needs...it’s...it’s always been pretty irrelevant to me.”
“As I could imagine.” He’d not met an angel before, he might have been a legacy but that didn’t make him important enough to converse with angels. He had studied enough to identify them though and it made the strangeness around the young man a little more understandable. “I will gladly and gratefully take any help you offer.”
Samandriel walked over to Henry and crouched down to sit on the mattress on the floor with him. “Not a flutter,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for how odd this will feel.” He placed a hand on Henry’s chest and closed his eyes, focusing his Grace and hoping Henry couldn’t see like his grandsons couldn’t see. But his son could. Maybe it was the Campbell blood that took away the seeing. He couldn’t go running around with his soul like that. Samandriel could help.
Henry kept absolutely still, even going as far as holding his breath while Samandriel worked. He did watch him work though, ignoring the strangeness but appreciating what was happening. The young man looked so skittish, it made him wonder if the other angels were the same and what he’d learned about their personalities had been wrong.
The seraph finished his work and found himself sweating and wobbling a little for the effort of it when he pulled his hand away. Dimly, he could hear Hakkon chiding him for it and wished those strong arms were there to hold him tight and call him foolish. “Better?” he asked.
“Better, thank you.” He said when it was safe for him to move. He reached out a hand to help steady him, unable to ignore how he looked wobbly. “Are you alright? Was that too much for you?”
“I’m still healing too, it’s okay.” Samandriel managed a brave little smile. “It’s okay. The soup is on the stove…”
Henry shifted, finding himself much stronger than before, “Here, you sit down and rest a bit. I’ll tend to the soup.” The last thing he wanted was the angel exerting himself so much on his behalf.
“Okay,” Samandriel said, letting Henry take over and doing his best to hide how much it hurt him. Not good. He should be better than this. Stronger.
After helping the angel ease himself down on the mattress, Henry got up and went to deal with the soup. He had to admit it wasn’t what he expected to wake to but he was grateful and it did smell good. He stirred it a little then turned the burner down so it would simmer a bit. “Will you have some of this or is it not a comfort to you?” He called from the kitchen.
“It doesn’t mean anything to me,” Samandriel said. “Just… I made it for you. My vessel contains only me.”
“I understand.” He replied, it taking him a second to prepare himself a bowl of the soup and grab a spoon before he went back to sit near the angel. “Thank you for this, I means a lot. The soup and rescuing me from the cold.”
“Someone else did the same for me recently. It felt only right to pay it forward.” Samandriel moved his legs so Henry had room to sit as he wished. “I don’t know where you belong in this world.”
“Thank you, but there is no need to trouble yourself over me, my friend. I can find where I am supposed to be now that I am well again.” He said after a few spoonfuls of soup. “Am I allowed to know your name?”
If there was any Winchester who would recognize his name at all, it would be one who was a man of letters, but even then the chance was slim. “My name is Samandriel. Is the soup okay?”
Henry nodded, “It is very good. Warming, it’s nice. I never thought I’d be warm again.” He didn’t recognize the name. While he had studied angels that name wasn’t on the list that the Men of Letters ranked as important. It was a little bit of a relief though, he had other things to do instead of getting caught up in angel business.
“I’m glad to help,” Samandriel said, smiling a little up at him. He wrapped his arms around a stuffed brown bear in his bed, not sure if he’d made it for himself or if Hakkon had brought it for him. Or both? No, both would be weird for that. “I’d give you a feather so you could go home, but no one leaves here.”
Henry smiled to himself, “I do not think it would matter much anyway, as far as I can tell, I can’t go home. If I did, it would undo so much, apparently. I have to have some kind of faith that I am supposed to be here or that things are as they are because a power greater than me and my family wills it. It might be the only way I can keep sane.” He might be going to hell for lying to an angel, Henry found he wasn’t all that concerned.
The bear didn’t smell like bear. He’d made it himself. He guessed. It made sense. “I’m not used to Winchesters wanting to have Faith instead of rebelling against the idea of it.” He stretched a little and tried to keep himself out of the way.
“It’s either that or keep trying and keep getting thwarted. Which I may still do, will see how well I take to my new home here.” He sipped at his soup before speaking again. “You know a lot of Winchesters?”
“Just the usual two,” Samandriel said. “I met them at the auction and then they tried to help. Later. Before I broke my wings.”
“I did find an angel feather in their trunk, I shouldn’t be surprised. I can’t help but be proud of them.” It was easier to think about than dwelling on the fact that they were only the way they were because he’d been unable to return to his family. “I am sorry to hear about your wings though, I know a little of how important they are for angels.”
“It’s more complicated than that, but thank you. The bear is helping.” Maybe he’d come visit later, that would be nice. “I’m healing. It just takes longer and the damage is deep. Fractals. I’m sorry.”
“I was never made a fully fledged member of the order, my level is not extraordinarily high, but if my knowledge or skill can be of any use to you while you are healing, please do not hesitate to call upon me.” He said sincerely, glancing down at the bear.
“Even other angels can only help so much. It’s okay. It’ll take time. They’ll all knit up eventually. The breaks will scar. I’ll get colours again. Not mine, I don’t think. Different ones. Ones that fit the metaphor.” He gave Henry a tight little smile.
He nodded in understanding. He finished the last of his soup and got up to clean the bowl, speaking loud enough for him to hear from the kitchen, “I may have to ask you for the recipe, the soup was delicious.”
“There wasn’t one,” Samandriel said, pushing himself up and holding his bear in his lap. “I just imagined it up.”
“I will just have to do my best to recreate it then,” he said on his way back to the angel, “Or perhaps invite you over once I’ve settled and you can imagine it up for me.”
“You can have the leftovers if you want. I’m certainly not going to eat them,” Samandriel said. “There should be containers of some kind… If not, I can make one up.”
“I am not entirely sure I have a place to store them yet, but I would be happy to take some with me,” He said at the doorway to the bedroom before he turned on his heel and went back to the kitchen again. “Sam was kind enough to introduce me to microwaves, so even if my new accomodations do not come with a stove I should be able to find a way to reheat this for later.”
“You do. You have a home somewhere with everything you need. I just don’t know where that somewhere is or I would’ve brought you there instead. I don’t know where to look that up either. Maybe…” He frowned. He didn’t think the bear would know. Duma would. He didn’t want to bother Duma.
“No need to trouble yourself, I will figure something out. I cannot be the only person to have shown up a little off course.” He managed to find a container and started to fill it with the soup.
“Maybe there’s a directory…” Samandriel said, pushing himself up out of his quiet room to go to the living room where he’d left Alfie’s laptop.
“Ah, right. Computers,” he said, glancing at Samandriel when he came out to the laptop. “I am still getting used to them. They were mostly for calculation when I was first introduced to the idea of them.”
Samandriel didn’t know where to start looking. He just stared at the laptop for a moment. He pursed his lips. He’d ask Hakkon. He pulled his phone out to text him quickly, asking to find out where people lived so he could know where Henry belonged.
Henry finished putting the soup in the container and started on cleaning the pot. “This place, Preya, it isn’t small, is it? There are a lot of people here.”
“It’s a country. A decent sized country. Not super small.” Samandriel frowned. “I think by human standards at least. You don’t have to clean if you don’t want to.”
“I will be honest, I did not have a lot of time to read the letter.” He said, not slowing the cleaning. “And it is only proper, I am the reason the mess was made, I ought to at least have a hand in cleaning it up.”
“Maybe your address here is on the letter?” Samandriel offered, still frowning. It made the man happy, he guessed. There was no harm in that. He fidgeted with his phone. Hakkon was busy. Not dead, right? No one would hurt him. He hoped.
Henry dried his hands and started looking into the pockets of his jacket. “I had it in my hands when I travelled here. Did you happen to see it when you found me?”
“Oh...no, I just brought you as you were.” Not helpful then. “Maybe it’s in the bed. I didn’t see you drop anything.”
“I will check.” Henry said, going back into the bedroom to check between the sheets. “Knowing my luck it is back in that coffin in- Ah, here we are.” A moment later Henry returned with the letter, reading through it more thoroughly this time.
“Is it helpful?” he asked, tucking his legs under him as he watched Henry’s face as he thought.
He turned it over, reading the back, “Here, this looks something like an address. It is somewhere in Summerbridge.” He offered the letter to the angel, “Does it sound familiar?”
Samandriel nodded. “Yes.” He pulled up a website and keyed in the address, ordering a cab for the man and giving his payment information. A card. Someone’s card. He didn’t think it mattered whose. “There.”
He watched Samandriel work, not saying a word until he was finished. “That’s it? That seems so simple. You, and everyone else, make this technology look easy to use.”
“There are classes for people who’re time displaced,” Samandriel said. He shut the computer and set it on the couch next to him. “There’ll be pamphlets and stuff in your home, I’m sure.” The angel got up. “Would you be offended if I had you forget me?”
“Are you trying to hide from someone?” He asked, though he was half sure he shouldn’t have. “I wouldn’t be offended as much as I would be concerned about you, but I understand if you feel you need to hide yourself from my memory.”
Samandriel frowned. “I don’t like this place. I don’t have reason to trust it either. It’s… It’s easier to recover if there’s fewer people to worry over me.” He presented a feather to the young man. Adult. Still young comparatively. Too young to be a grandfather to men about the same age. Time travel gave him a headache. “When you get in the cab, you’ll forget me unless you need me again.” That seemed reasonable.
He took the feather and tucked it safely into his interior jacket pocket. “Very well, I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I appreciate all of your help and sacrifice. While I will not say that I do not wish to see you again in future, let me assure you that I will do my best to not need angelic assistance again.” Henry extended his hand.
“Everyone needs angelic assistance every once in a while. Ask for help when you need it. Don’t be ashamed of that.” He took Henry’s hand.
“I will keep that in mind, if I can.” He smiled a little, shaking Samandriel’s hand before pulling away to collect the letter and his soup. “Thank you again.”
“The elevator is down the hall to your left. I’d just...I’d take you down myself, but I should probably rest.”
“I can manage from here. I hope you get some rest and your strength returns to you soon.” He knew better than to say thank you again, he wasn’t Canadian after all and the angel was likely tired of hearing it. Instead, he simply bowed his head once he reached the door, then left the apartment, finding the elevator with no problem.