fromfryingpantofire | All I need is a miracle/All I need is you

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All I need is a miracle/All I need is you

Things had been going well lately. Hunts just seemed to fall into their laps, the book Sam needed at the library had just been handed in or just been reshelved, the sheriff or local law looking the other direction when they needed to get to a cemetery for a salt and burn. It had been going really, really well.

It should have occurred to Sam that things were going a little TOO well, honestly. But he didn't even think about it until a knife that should have had his name on it simply ricocheted off his chest, as though he had some forcefield up around him.

Later that night, Sam pulled his overshirt off at the hotel, looking at the spot where the knife had definitely started to pierce the fabric. "Okay. There's definitely something weird going on here."

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They were getting lucky, that was all. Right? There were no cursed charms, no rabbit’s foot from one of Dad’s old stashes, no nothing. But after all the crap they’d caught, maybe they were due.

Or maybe not. That knife should have had Sammy’s number on it and for an instant Dean’s entire world had stopped, waiting for the blade fall. Instead it had bounced off him like it was made of rubber. But Dean had been too rattled to even crack a joke at first, so sure that this was it, this was the day he was going to lose his little brother.

Back at the motel, he took the shirt from Sam with a frown. Yeah, that should have caught him all right.

“And for once it’s working in our favor. Now the question is.. what the hell is turning you into Superman?”

Sam shook his head, letting Dean have the shirt and trying not to show how rattled he was still. That wouldn't do either of them much good. "I have no idea, honestly. I'm pretty certain it's not something we did, so finding out what's causing it is going to be a bear."

But...there was still that luck on their side. Even if Sam wasn't certain what the hell to search for in the first place.

No, better they focus on the problem at hand rather than how close they'd come to disaster. "All right. We head home and we hit the books tomorrow. You've been pulling answers out of thin air lately. Who knows? Maybe this'll help us too."

Getting lucky finding out why they were getting lucky? Hey - weirder crap has happened to them.

"Yeah, that's probably the best choice. There's more resources at home, anyway." More books on the strange and occult. If this was something that had happened before or could happen, the chances were good that the Men of Letters had something written up about it.

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We should probably grab some shut eye. If we get on the road early, we can be home before dark."

And how strange was it, really, to have a home after all these years? Even Sam had started to relax about it. It wasn't just someplace for them to work anymore.

He doesn't miss that - Sam calling it home. It's happening a little more often now and Dean relaxes just a bit more every time he does.

"Yeah, Sammy. Go ahead and hit the shower and we can get outta here first thing. Haul ass back home and find out what the hell is going on."

Not that he was complaining - whatever was going on? It was protecting his brother from damn near everything and even though it was odd, and most of the good things in their lives came with a catch, Dean was almost reluctant to look into it. Because if Sam was safe? That's all that mattered to him.

The problem was that things that were purported to keep Sam safe sometimes had a habit of backfiring on them. That was why Sam wanted to know, just in case things weren't quite as innocent as they looked.

He nodded, stripping off his other shirt before heading for the bathroom to get that shower and then some sleep.

What Sam hadn't told Dean about was the dreams. Nothing serious, because if they had been prophetic or any kind of worrying, he would have mentioned them. Instead, they were...comforting. Something that kept the worst of the nightmares at bay with a golden light that urged him into deeper sleep. Sam figured that it probably had something to do with whatever else was protecting him, but there wasn't anything concrete enough for him to comment on.

By the time morning arrived, he was rested and ready to head back to the Bunker.

Things were never that easy for them - but at least for the time being, Sam was safe.

Dean didn't sleep quite as much as Sam did, but he still caught enough that he'd be able to head out in the morning. By the time Sam was up and packing their gear, he had already gone for the usual coffee and takeout breakfast. Not the most healthy thing (which Sam would be sure to point out) but it was food on the go and they had a job to do.

Back home, Dean threw his keys on the table, shucking his jacket and heading for the kitchen. "I'll get some coffee going, you want anything before we hit the books?"

"Don't know how long we'll be in there, so might be an idea to have some sandwiches on hand." They both knew better than to touch books with greasy hands, but having some food on hand would make things simpler. "I'm just going to go drop out stuff off in our rooms and be right back."

Their rooms. It was, in a lot of ways, still a surprising thing. After so many years in each other's pockets, sleeping in a separate bedroom was awesome.

It only took a few minutes for him to come back, stretching as he glanced into the library, then headed to the kitchen. Though he stayed back, since the kitchen was most definitely Dean's area.

So maybe Dean takes a little longer to make up a proper set of sandwiches. What? He's got a kitchen and it turns out that he's getting pretty damn good at using it. If they're going to be working all night, they might as well have some decent brain food.

A plate of grilled sandwiches and a bag of chips, paper towels in the middle of the table because he knows that Sam is a little fastidious about keeping the books as clean as possible. But it makes him happy and that's what matters to Dean. Seeing Sammy happy with a library of his own to geek out over for the rest of his days.

"Okay. Freaky good luck charms. Think they've got a section on that?"

Sam has his library. Dean has his kitchen. It's all good.

He hums as they walk into the library, looking around. "There should be one somewhere. I mean, if not a section, at least a book. Good luck is one of those things you get a lot of people wanting so it's bound to fuck up sometimes. They'd have to have people coming to them wanting to know how to reverse it."

Of course, Sam was still working on learning the entirety of how the library was set up and compiling a list of the books. Which was very tough going, but it gave him something to do when they had a little bit of downtime. "Actually, I might have come across a book like that already..."

And if you had told Dean a year ago that he'd be completely at happy in a kitchen making lunch? He'd have laughed it off. But he was happy there. It was home. They had a little breathing room and he'd found something he was good at that didn't involve killing.

"Least we know it ain't one of Dad's freaky good luck charms he kept locked up."

Food on the table, Dean wandered to the drawer where they kept the old, battered journal. "I'll start here. Maybe it's something Dad ran into before."

"If I never touch one of those things again, it would be too soon." Sam watched Dean get the journal out and nodded. "Yeah. You never know what Dad could have found out. You do that. I'll...wander, I guess."

Since, if this stuff was going to work, he should probably just concentrate on what he wanted to know and see if that would work.

"You and me both," he murmurs, pulling out the old leatherbound journal with the same quiet sense of reverence he always did. This was Dad's life, everything that he saw, everything that he came across as he was hunting the demon that destroyed their lives.

Sam had the right idea. If luck was on his side, perhaps it would work this time as well.

.. which is probably why an old and cracked leather book tucked on a far, low shelf suddenly seemed like a good place to start.

Since Sam's making certain to follow his gut, he actually gets down on his knees to pull the book out. He runs his hands over the binding, blowing off the dust before he stands, starting to flip through it. It finally falls open to a page with a drawing that makes his stomach flip. Even he knows all about the classical representations of the archangels, after all. Even if they're now all dead or locked in the Cage.

Not exactly.

The spell is clearly laid out below the images. The Shield of Heaven. The most powerful protection magic in all of Creation outside the hand of God himself. If an angel willingly sacrifices his grace to defend another, binds that power to save another, no weapon on earth will harm the protected.

It was unbreakable. But with a spell below the description, it was, in fact, traceable.

Sam reads over the words a few times before heading off to drop the book in front of Dean. "Looks like I found it," he says grimly. "Not that it makes a lot of sense. I mean...if anybody was going to get hit with this, you make a lot more sense."

Because Sam doesn't think for one moment that Castiel wouldn't do that to protect Dean. And the one being who MIGHT have done it for Sam? Well, he's been dead a long time.

Dean pulls a face at that, taking the book from Sam and reading over the spell. Powerful and unbreakable. "Hell Sam, if I'd have known about that a few years ago, I'd have held one of the bastards down myself to cook up a spell like this on you."

A page turn back, forward and finally he settles on the tracking spell. "Well, seems pretty straightforward enough. Let's test this puppy out and see who decided to lay mojo like that on you."

"Don't think that would work. For one, it has to be a willing sacrifice." The only angel who might have is Castiel, and Sam's pretty sure that Dean's higher on Castiel's list than he is.

Still, he leans over the table and nods. "Nothing too out of the ordinary for spell components. I think we can probably do this without having to source anything new." The Men of Letters were meticulous in gathering things like spell components and Sam's been good about keeping the supplies stocked up. "Right. I guess no time like the present."

And the only angel that might have considered making that sacrifice for Sam was long since gone. "Still. Would have been fun to try."

It only takes about an hour for them to pull together what they need. Chalk lines, candles, the usual song and dance. A pain in the ass to be sure, but if someone put a powerful protection spell on Sammy, Dean wanted to know why.

So color him surprised when Sam drops the match on the map and a single point lights up like a star. Chattanooga Tennessee.

"Huh. All right, guess a road trip it is."

Sam stares at the map for a few moments before nodding. "Yeah, I guess it is." What could be in Tennessee, though? They've certainly been through the state more than a few times on hunts, but there wasn't anything particularly strange there at the moment.

Except, apparently, there was. And there was a part of him that wishes there was one particular angel at the other end of the trip, even if it's impossible.

"We should probably get some sleep first. Do laundry, head out in the morning. It's going to take a while to get there." Not that he particularly wants to wait, honestly, but they were tired and had only just gotten back to the bunker.

"All right. You're on laundry." A clap on the shoulder before Sam can disagree or complain and Dean is headed back towards his favorite domain. The kitchen. "I'll take care of the road food."

So far the spell had kept Sam safe and be even bought them a little bit of luck along the way. He could only hope that carried them just far enough to find out who had pulled together a spell like that. Chattanooga wasn't exactly a small city.

They'd start with a local bar, ask around see what they could find. Canvas the area, work it like any other job.

Sam snorts, shaking his head as he heads off to get the laundry going.

Honestly, he wasn't that worried about finding the angel responsible for the shield. Oh, he wanted to know. He just figured, at this point, that it was probably going to work out. Everything else seemed to be managing to work out for him, after all. Maybe this would just be one more thing.

Of course, it wouldn't be who he wanted it to be. Wouldn't be the reason he kept a certain Casa Erotica DVD long past when he should have just chucked it. A DVD that had a personal message to him.

Sam shakes himself out of his musings, getting the clothes together to wash. Now wasn't the time to get his head stuck back there again.

Early to bed, early to rise? Not so much for hunters. Even after laundry, dinner and a few drinks while they read up on the spell and any potential loopholes or ways it could backfire – because magic that strong? It worried Dean.

Sure, it was protecting Sam in ways that nothing else could, but the last time things went that right for him was just before they went to hell thanks to that rabbit’s foot.
One final check over the car and their gear before Dean finally allows himself to crash out for the night. If it’s one of the few angels on their side that did this for Sam – Dean was definitley buying them a few hundred beers.
Problem was all of the angels on their side with the exception of Cas were all wingprints on the ground.

Up early and on the road. It was Dean’s favorite time of day, balancing a cup of coffee on his thigh and roaring down the highway with Sam at his side and dawn just starting to touch the sky.

Now all they had to do was get into the city and hope that Sam’s luck held up long enough to get them close to whatever angel, or ex-angel, had done it. It was just past one when he finally turned the Impala towards the nearest bar for a bite to eat and a beer while they form up some kind of plan.

Sam, on the other hand, spends most of the drive looking out the windows of the Impala or halfway to nodding off. He didn't entirely sleep well, having to force himself not to get out the DVD again. It had been months since he'd watched it, tired of the ache of things could have been, if only one or the other of them had been able to speak up. When he had slept, though, it had been filled with the same warm, golden light that had filled his dreams recently. So it hadn't been entirely bad.

Still, by the time one rolled around, Sam was more than ready to get out of the Impala and stretch his legs. He groaned as he stepped out of the car, stretching so that his back almost cracked.

A quick stretch, realigning the back and Dean is headed towards the door. "Come on Sammy. I smell cheeseburgers." Man food. Just what he needed after a long drive.

The bar wasn't much different than any of the hundreds they'd been in before. Polished wood floor, tables, beer lights on the walls. Dean gave the place a quick once-over looking for anything out of the ordinary before dropping into one of the booths near the bar and picking up the menu.

So maybe he gapes just a bit when two beers are set down at the table by a freaking dead angel.

"Of all the bars in the world, you two meatheads happen to walk into mine." Gabriel was grinning easily at them, and doing his very level best not to stare at Sam. The spell was doing it's job, he could feel it humming in his bones. His very mortal bones.

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All I need is a miracle/All I need is you

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