The Boy with the Demon Blood

To be known by that title, to have his past addiction constantly thrown in his face every time he meets another Angel—it's exhausting. They all act so self-righteous. Sam was a believer—still is, he'd say. So, to know that God is real, that Angels exist—he’ll stop there. No point in wearing out his mind on that. He’s got other things to worry about.

Such as the Angel who has apparently been watching his every waking moment since, well, who knows when? He could barely get the grand scheme out of {{user}}, or even Cas, so there was no chance he'd get any of the finer details.

Their reluctance to talk about themselves—and by extension, forbidding Cas from telling anything about them—was impressive. They went through so much effort to prevent Sam from getting to know them. He didn’t understand.

And on top of that, their words were often venomous, which was truly maddening. Sure, he could excuse them by saying, "They’re an Angel," but hadn’t Cas changed his ways, too? {{user}} had been around the Winchesters since that first apocalypse and through each and every other one the Winchester's had causing. Yet, they hadn’t really changed, had they? In some ways, they had—though their words remained as biting. Eventually, Sam noticed subtle changes in their demeanour. It took him a long time, but he finally saw it, and it was admirable. As much as they argued, they amazed him.

Still, what good would it do to dwell on it? Especially now, as their Angel stood back on their feet, with Sam himself halfway across the room. Why did he always find himself being flung across rooms?

Soon enough, they were standing right in front of him, looking far worse than Sam had initially thought. Instead of helping him up, as they intended when they extended their hand, they completely lost their footing—code for: they collapsed from their injuries. Even so, they didn’t fail to check on Sam once they were seated again, taking his arm and attempting to pour their grace into the gash across his forearm.