It was hard to say whether Samuel had ever been religious. The world he'd grown up in was one where cackling witches stirring cauldrons had not only been real, but they'd also been his grandmother and made the world's best chicken noodle soup. Initiated him into the dark arts and drew magical symbols on his arms with a knife, only to cover the wounds with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles afterwards and listen to his explanation on why the Turtles were way better than Power Rangers, no matter what Matty said.

He had gone to school wearing Enochian amulets, ritualistic feather talismans and silver crosses under his uniform for protection. Religion wasn't a question of faith in his life, it was a fact and a danger and sometimes an annoyance. He had never learned to pray, but he knew how to sacrifice, banish, exorcise, summon, all of that before finishing high school.

He knew how dangerous it all was. Angels killed as much as demons, only they were more self-righteous about it. Gods were selfish and had too much power, ghosts were vengeful and single-minded and he'd seen loved ones harmed. Seen them die. He was sick of it all by the time he'd finished school and he left to go to university, wanted to leave all of it behind.

His grandmother would have none of it, threatening him with how there would be no coming back and banishing him from the family, only to then keep trying to aggressively and passive-aggressively lure him back. Matty wasn't much different, because he had viewed him leaving as a betrayal and rejection. Sam loved his brother, loved his family, that was why he didn't want to be there to see them eradicated by higher - or lower - powers.

Of course, he was still a Tenaz, and their family might have been human, but they had always been more. His grandmother had told him that he'd not have a choice and, as always, she was right.

Once Matteo and Samuel were working together again, properly in the family business, things kept getting interesting - and interesting never meant anything good. That was when he first met him, although Sam had a suspicion that he'd probably checked in on him before then. Raphael - not that he used that name at first - an annoying trickster who liked teaching him lessons and helping out in the worst ways. Who eventually revealed himself - well, was revealed - to be an angel. Not just any, but the archangel Raphael. And yet he kept popping up, jokingly called himself Sam's guardian angel and jokingly did a lot else. He really was a little shit.

But they were facing the end of the world now and Matteo was in danger. Samuel knew how to summon demons, call forth ghosts and lure in monsters. He knew less about angels. Usually the best advice when it came with angels was not to bother and hope they wouldn't bother you.

He needed him this time. His guardian angel. And he didn't know how to get an angel's attention, he'd just somehow always... had it. Unbidden and often unwelcome. But now, faced with that, Sam felt like an idiot, but he went with what was considered the proper ritual, traditionally.

So he knelt down at the side of his bed, folded his hands, closed his eyes and prayed. He didn't know how to pray to Raphael or how to pray to anyone, frankly, so he had googled it. Mostly he'd come upon a lot of scammy seeming websites to ask for healing, but worth a try. "Remember the weak, you who are strong, you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God."

This was so ridiculous. Sam scoffed and leaned his head on the mattress, kind of hoping Raphael couldn't hear this. Ridiculous. "Just fucking come already, Raphael." Maybe that was more the right style.

Raphael had, as far as Sam know, always been mercurial in his moods. He usually started out chipper as long as everything went the way he wanted, then got erratically angry and displayed more and more arrogance the less things went the way they were supposed to.

This was just for the few times Raphael had set up plots for him before all this, but it had even been true the times when he'd just visited him in motel rooms to be a nuisance. Provoking and then usually getting pissed off at some point, only to quickly simmer down again and pretend nothing had ever mattered.

Now, Raphael was even harder to predict. His moods changed without much warning and Sam had no idea, frankly, how to best do this. So he'd silently been sitting next to the archangel as they watched television, halfway listening to his commentary about the show.

Then, when Raphael paused, he finally just said it straight-up. "Do you know where Michael is? Your brother." He gestured vaguely. "Archangel. Big sword, I think?"