He'd been in the hospital on a whim, with no real purpose other than the vague hopes of soaking up something of what Raphael's more experienced aura had left painted across sterile walls; he might have thought that it was a coincidence, the fact that those few stray moments he'd spent straightening supplies in the back would be just when he heard Adam's hurried footsteps in the hall, followed by an urgent call.

But then, he thought, Adam rarely dealt in coincidence.

He entered the room to find Adam huddled over a slim figure: his gaze was quickly drawn to a gaping wound in the young man's abdomen, and the sickening organ clutched in one hand which the angel did not wish to confirm was a heart. He blinked, horrified to see pale blue liquid oozing from the hollow in the wounded figure's chest, wondering for half a second if the Antichrist was asking him not to heal, but to resurrect...

But there was life here yet, he realized in the next moment; recognition of something much older, much more otherworldly than any mortal.

A noise of disbelief catching in his throat, he turned apprehensive eyes to Adam, awaiting some explanation, some sort of clue. "What on Earth...?"