Slowly Gabriel pulls his hand back, checking the brief tendrils of grace still clinging to his hand. A touch of two fingers helps to heal the mark left behind on Sam’s skin, a raised welt of his handprint on Sam’s skin. The connection is there, forged between them, now all he has to do is test it.

Sammy? Can you hear me? Cautious affection pressed through the bond rather than any sort of telepathic contact. He’s careful to go slow so as not to overwhelm Sam. Talk to me kiddo.