Humans have wings too. Some of them anyway.


Incorporeal, they’re like the vestigial organs of the soul. Even harder to see than souls- usually only even vaguely visible when someone is being born or dying.


So obviously the Winchesters had to break the rule. Their wings were visible to any angel. Gabriel was sure that Castiel stared at Dean’s face so fixedly so that he wouldn’t end up staring at his wings (beautiful, powerful condor’s wings; almost pure white.)


Sam’s are dark blue hawk’s wings, almost black in places; wings of the messenger. Gabriel resists the urge to touch them. It’s easy, he tells himself. He has the entire world as his playground. Biggest chocolate fountain in the world? In his kitchen. Biggest swimming pool, with fountains and a miniature waterfall? In his backyard. Have a day off to see the planet made of diamonds. Or go off and play connect the dots in the Medusa Cascade.


It isn’t easy, even when he’s miserable and hates Sam and hates himself it isn’t easy.


Then there’s the day he almost dies and Sam’s wings curl around him protectively (Gabriel remembers these are the wings of guardianship) and honestly, man, there’s a limit to which you can push an archangel yeah? Gabriel runs the back of two knuckles gently over them and they surround him completely for a moment before jerking back in a hurry.


Gabriel is somewhat surprised and somewhat amused to see Sam looking intrigued. He grins up at Sam and looks forward to the treat he’s going to get.  


Despite all of Gabriel’s smug crowing later, he really hadn’t planned to seduce Sam.

It was just that, one day, he got to see Sam smile. Well, of course he had seen him smile before, but this time he was smiling at Gabriel. All dimples and bright eyes.

It had taken Gabriel months to get that first smile but that was only because he hadn’t been looking for it. He put his mind to it, got chocolates and fresh off-the-tree fruit and rare French movies (it surprised him-how much he knew about what Sam liked) and it took him less than a week to get the next one. And then they kept coming, and Gabriel hoarded them all up like a dragon guarding treasure.

Then one day Sam smiled sweetly and Gabriel hadn’t even brought anything.

“Why are you so happy?” Gabriel demanded, because he likes to shoot himself in the foot like that.

Sam made an up-and-down motion with his eyebrows that meant he was amused, “I’m happy to see you, you dick.”

The kiss that followed was also not planned, even though Gabriel will claim for the rest of his existence that it was. 


“Oh please, you’re a groupie,” Gabriel says, curling a hand around Sam’s neck and pulling him down.

“Groupie of what? Dicks with wings?” Sam mocks, because he can now, with Gabriel because Gabriel knows he doesn’t mean it. He brushes a kiss against Gabriel’s lips and pulls back.

“Power.” Gabriel murmurs, and Sam stiffens in his arms. He shoves against Gabriel and scrambles off the bed.

“What the hell man? You think this is about me wanting to get off on your power?” Sam splutters.

“What else is it?” Gabriel snaps, suddenly furious, “True love?” he asks mockingly.

“Get out,” Sam says, dangerously quietly, “Get the fuck out.”

Gabriel doesn’t hesitate for a moment, and he wonders, when he appears in Spain, whether Sam really did say ‘Running away is your forte, right?’ just before he disappeared or whether he had thought it himself.

Whichever it is, the thought haunts him badly enough that he returns in three days and drops in on a vampire trying to eat…drink, whatever, kill Sam. It’s annoying. He blasts it into more pieces than humans will ever be able to measure.

“It isn’t that I’m powerful, fine! But then what is it about?” Gabriel demands

“True love,” Sam sneers, taking off his shirt and trying to wipe the blood off his hands and face. Gabriel decides not to snap him clean for that bit of surliness. Dean barges in, just as he’s about to ask for a proper answer and Gabriel leaves again.

Later that night Gabriel peeks in, and sure enough, Dean’s gone out. So he comes in and there’s a Snickers being flung at him. Sam’s holding an open bottle of beer.

“Expecting someone special?” Gabriel jokes weakly.

Sam swigs out of the bottle and says, “Shove it Gabriel. Not right now.”

Gabriel looks at the Snickers and says, “Kiddo, you…I know you alright? I knew Lucifer, even before he Fell he was always attracted to power. It’s not that I mind but.”

Sam says, “Gabriel, I’m trying very hard not to smash this bottle right now. Just shut up and listen for a bit. For once in your immortal life, get it into your head that you don’t know everything.”

Gabriel can’t help a sudden grin and a raised eyebrow that’s meant to say, ‘Look who’s talking’ and Sam gives him an endearingly rueful look in return. He doesn’t say anything though. Gabriel’s patient, he honestly is, but for the longest time Sam just looks around the room, glancing at Gabriel occasionally and biting his lower lip and not saying anything.

Gabriel doesn’t say anything even when Sam moves towards him, his firm stride at odds with his uncertain expression and then Sam cups his face gently and just…looks at him. It’s almost painful, how open his face is, Gabriel wants to look away because he’s not the right person for…there are better people. Honest, brave people without blood on their hands. Sam deserves better and is only here, with Gabriel, because he doesn’t know what he’s worth.

He was always a coward though so he doesn’t say so, just pulls Sam down so he can kiss him deeply and feel the warmth of Sam’s touch call his Grace to wrap them both up in a world where they can be alone together for just a little bit.


“What would I have to do?” Gabriel doesn’t ask, while kissing Sam.

Stitching Sam up instead of snapping his wounds closed; feeding him food bought with their money instead of Gabriel’s powers; letting the Winchesters hunt by themselves instead of waving his hand and making the monster of the week go away, he doesn’t ask.

Gabriel gets (steals) rare books, and buys Sam a shirt saying ‘I fucked an archangel and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ and learns how to make vegetarian pizza and he still doesn’t ask.

The nights when he can steal Sam away and take him to his own bed and kiss him breathless and leave his fingerprints all over Sam, the words are on the tip of his tongue and he buries his face in Sam’s neck and doesn’t ask.

Then one day, he’s teasing Sam into having strawberries right out of his hand and Sam turns to him with that wide smile and those warm eyes and says unasked, “I love you,” and Gabriel doesn’t know what it is he’s done but he’s willing to keep right on doing it.   


“Expecting someone taller?” Gabriel quips, but he’s uneasy about how good-looking this guy is. He hadn’t looked that hot on the photos they had exchanged. Good-looking guys…well, Gabriel’s got this theory about good-looking people. He made it up when he was in college and vomiting his guts out one morning-after-the-night-before. Basically, good-looking people’re douches. No, really, that’s the theory. Nothing else to see here. Go home.

Sam smiles brilliantly and says,“No, you’re just like I expected from your photo. But man, I swear I’ve never seen anyone over the age of twelve having that many scoops of ice-cream." 

Or don’t, because this is Sam and Sam is…Sam. Warm and sweet and sarcastic even through text messaging and ridiculously self-effacing.

"You won’t have any,” Gabriel says, it’s barely a question and he isn’t surprised when Sam shakes his head, “They’ve got some fruity health-stuff over by the tents for androids like you.” Gabriel says because he always insults people when he finds them hot and wants to go out with them. It’s a defense mechanism alright?  

Then they’re walking towards the tents and Sam places a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and Gabriel says,“Whu…what are you doing?”

Sam looks surprised for a moment then his gaze falls to his hand and he laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, sorry. It’s sort of a date-habit of mine. Do you mind?”

Gabriel asks, “We’re on a date?” because when did they have that conversation?

Sam opens and closes his mouth a few times, then says, “Which part of ‘will you go with me to this modern-circus?’ did you think…” He buries his face in his hands and says, in a muffled voice, “Man, I’m so sorry, this must be so embarrassing for you.”

Which…stop right there. Hot guys asking him on dates? Nope, not embarrassing at all. Sam asking him on a date- makes him feel ten feet tall. Gabriel considers that thought for another moment then adds, well, figuratively.

“No date,” Sam says and with a determined nod, steps back. And stands there looking awkward.

Gabriel indignantly says,“It doesn’t work like that, you don’t get to take it back.”

Sam blinks and looks awkwardly adorable,“Date then?”

“Let me think about it,” Gabriel says and this time Sam gets it. He grins and says, “Think fast, or you’ll be wearing that mess you call an ice-cream.”

“I’ll just have you lick it off me,” Gabriel says, lapping at his hand where the ice-cream’s melted and making a trail down to his elbow. He starts walking, trusting Sam to steer him away from trouble with his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.


The One Where Sam and Gabriel Are Housecats.


Or to be more precise, Sam was a housecat. Gabriel was the cat who lurked around outside Dean and Cas’ apartment waiting to pounce on their feet or Cas’ characteristically untied laces. Or Sam.


Sam hissed and spat at him and tried to claw out those golden eyes (Sam hated those eyes, his green ones were so much better) but to no avail, Gabriel would keep nipping his tail and stealing his food and opening up the window from outside (like magic, Sam didn’t know how he did it) so that Dean and Cas blamed Sam for it and scolded him. Sam gave up trying to explain that it wasn’t him, it was Gabriel and just showed his teeth and then turned his back on them and meowed his anger at the wall instead- it listened about as well. Stupid humans.


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Sam is thirty and human, for all that he’s drunk demon blood, and he looks at Gabriel when Gabriel isn’t looking. Gabriel is over a millennium old and an archangel and knows better than to look back.


When Sam is thirty one, Gabriel almost dies a second time and Sam doesn’t kiss him, would never do that without being asked, but he does shield Gabriel from the explosion that is too close to them with his own body and it somehow ends up as Sam cradling Gabriel like he really is the fragile mass of skin and bones he looks like.


Gabriel pulls him into bed soon after that, not that night or the next night because they both have important and exhausting jobs that don’t stick to schedules. They kiss and curl up so that Gabriel’s breathing encouragement into Sam’s neck and Sam jerks them both off, one large hand around both their cocks.


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His hand tightened on the door, he let go before the wood broke. 

Sam was sprawled on the wooden chair, shirtless, one leg thrown over an arm of the chair. His cock was clearly outlined in his denim, and he had one hand resting on his thigh, just barely touching his crotch. He was lazily eating a hot dog, licking sauce off his fingers obscenely while looking straight at Gabriel. He made a dirty picture; an enticing, desirable view. Despite the artful carelessness of the scene, Gabriel knew this had been set up for his sake.

“I’ll come back when you aren’t busy,” Gabriel said coolly.

A flash of boredom crossed Sam’s face, “Do we really have to keep doing this? I know you want me.  You always did.” Gabriel let his expression be his reply.

Sam sighed and let his head fall back and asked, “Really? Why you gotta be like that, man? It’ll be fun, relaxing.”

When the practiced pose fell from Sam it only made him that much more seductive. The sulky edge to his mouth gave Gabriel a sudden thrill of arousal. That was probably what made him lash out by saying, “What I wanted is buried in Hell with my brother. You’re just skin and bones." 

And the soulless abomination had the nerve to look amused at that.


“Falling is a state of mind,” Gabriel says stiffly. “Even when I left I always meant to go back. It wasn’t actually rebelling so much as …taking a leave of absence.” 

“Now you can’t go home.” Sam says, wishing it was a question. He reaches out to Gabriel who flinches away.

“Leave it,” Gabriel says sharply and snaps himself away when Sam tries to argue. It’s three days before Gabriel reappears and Sam gets the message. They’re not talking about it.

They still aren’t talking about it when Gabriel hands Sam a packet and goes off to talk to some old friends about Famine. When Sam opens the packet it contains all the papers needed for a new life in the name of ‘Lucas Taylor’. Birth certificate, credit cards, various mostly unremarkable school papers. Then Sam sees there’s a second set of papers and they’re made out for a ‘Castiel Milton’. Sam wonders whether this is a tribute to Anna or a reminder to Cas of how far they are Falling.

They aren’t talking about it when Gabriel grimly asks him to teach him how to use a gun and any other weapons they might need. Sword fighting is all Gabriel knows but he picks this up very fast and Sam learns that all the angels are warriors first and foremost. Sam’s glad of it when a quick bullet through the Pestilence’s head gives them just enough time to grab his ring and get gone but he wishes he didn’t have to be.

Gabriel snarls at him to go away, fire blazing in his eyes, when Sam catches him sitting in their motel’s deserted parking lot with a handful of crumbling feathers and a devastated look on his face.

Once, after they talk to Death and get his ring, Gabriel says, “I’m forgetting everything before the 12th century,” in a distant tone like it’s interesting but nothing important. Sam later finds half-moons on his palm where he clenched them so as not to reach out. Sam cleans them up, the last thing they need right now is for him to get septicemia or tetanus or something.

The day after they trap Lucifer and Michael in the Cage, they leave the nearest hospital to Stull Cemetery (Mercy Hospital or Hope or something like that) still unsure about whether Adam will ever wake up but they’re all still grateful (Dean grudgingly) to Michael for having given him up before he fell when Gabriel begged him for this one last thing.

Sam’s sitting down on a couch in Bobby’s house just staring blankly out of a window when Gabriel sits down beside him and says, “Hey, kiddo,” softly.

Sam wants to smile but his face isn’t really obeying. It’s like smiling is an abstract concept. Gabriel shakes his head slightly and Sam drops the attempt and leans into Gabriel, letting the whole of his right side touch Gabriel’s left side. After a long moment in which muscles that had been tense for almost a year start relaxing, Gabriel presses something into Sam’s hand.

It’s a tiny vial, small enough to be hung on a neck chain, and it’s filled with a beautiful black viscous liquid. As Sam looks on, the liquid turns inside out and becomes a warm golden brown color that slowly deepens to black again. At the back of Sam’s mind rings happy laughter, Dad and Dean’s laughter, Castiel’s rough bark, Bobby’s low laugh, Gabriel’s guffaws, and others that he hadn’t even know he remembered.

“It’s the very last of my Grace. I want you to keep it,” Gabriel says quietly.

Sam jerks his head up to look at Gabriel.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gabriel warns in a tired voice.

Sam holds the vial tightly in his left hand and raises the other to haul Gabriel in as close as he can. Sam gently strokes Gabriel’s hair until he loses his stiffness and curls up into Sam. For the very first time, Gabriel sleeps.  


Thing is. 

Thing is, Gabriel’s old. Millennia old. Old as Time (and no, the capital letter isn’t just for show) old.

There isn’t anything that he hasn’t seen and very little that he hasn’t done.

So when he says that Sam Winchester is something special, what he means is amazing. He means brilliant, and mindblowing and…and really fucking cool.

He means that he can go to the ends of the Universe (and there’s no restaurant there, thanks very much Douglas Adams) and he can go back to the beginning of the Earth, he can go to an Elvis concert (or even all of them) and he can go to Woodstock and have an acid trip to the sound of Janis Joplin and The Who. And yet.

And yet he’d rather be right here, watching Sam sleep. Keeping away his nightmares and nudging him towards pleasant dreams (and yeah, okay, so some of them are of him. So what? He doesn’t make the dreams. Sammy-boy does that all on his own, and isn’t that an acid trip all by itself.) 

He hasn’t laid a finger on Sam. Not only would it be creepy, it would also wake him up and then they’d have to do the whole stakes and holy oil and misery dance all over again. Sometimes though, sometimes he wonders. What it’d be like to have the right to be here. To be welcomed here. Sometimes he wonders what it’d take to be able to turn around and see Sam smiling at him. Recently.

Recently he’s been thinking about reaching out and touching.

There’s a sequel now- 15. 


“Call me Luke,” the guy said, pulling Sam into some storage space or something and then pulling him down to kiss him. Sam breaks away picks him up and laughs breathlessly when Luke whistles and waggles his eyebrows, “Nice muscles you got there.” Sam bites at his lips to shut him up because he’s going to drop Luke if he keeps on making Sam laugh so hard.


Sam can’t help the sting of betrayal he feels when he turns out to be the Trickster. When Luke turns out to be short for Loki.


It’s nothing to the deep horror that chokes him years later, when they meet Loki again after he’s started the apocalypse, and Loki hisses when holy water falls on him. His eyes shift to red and he smiles a twisted little smile when he answers Dean’s demand to know who he is, “Gabriel, they call me Gabriel.”


Dean says, “You’re Gabriel?”


Gabriel tilts his head and says, along with Sam, “The second angel to Fall.”


He adds, “I followed my brother down. You must know what that’s like.”



When Sam closes his eyes he sees him and Gabriel in their own house with a couple of dogs (a jack terrier and a golden lab) and a tab at the local bar. He sees an unkempt garden that Gabriel proclaims to be their connection to nature as it should be but is really just a sign of Sam being too lazy and not all that good with plants anyway. He sees the small patch that is bursting with color because Castiel has claimed it for himself.

He sees the car that they rarely use because Gabriel usually just snaps them wherever they need to be. He sees the guest bedroom that is actually Dean’s bedroom, furnished to his liking, but not called that because it makes Dean antsy to think he’s been tied down.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Hell.


 “Your car talks.” Sam told Gabriel.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Gabriel patted the side of it, mouth curling up and eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Your car talks, Gabriel! In my head!” Sam stepped away from both man and car and gestured at it, “That’s…that is so creepy. ”

Gabriel frowned and spread an arm protectively on the car, “Manners, boyo. She just saved your life. Have some respect.”

The car pulsed out its hurt and Sam found himself giving a faltering apology without really knowing what he was doing. He wondered how the hell his boyfriend had been hiding a talking car for the past three months when they’ve been sharing a house.

Then he wondered, “Where the hell did you get a talking car? I didn’t even know you had a car.” Sam said, sitting down on their front steps because his legs felt just a little weak.

“You didn’t have it in college. You didn’t rent garage space there.” Sam went on.

Gabriel looked slightly uncomfortable, “You remember just before college ended I wanted to know about my family? How they died and everything? So I asked the orphanage?”

Sam nodded; he remembered calming Gabriel down with kisses and chocoate and promising him it’d be fine.

Gabriel gestured to the car. Sam looked blank for a moment then said, “What, they were aliens? Not that it wouldn’t explain a lot…” he trailed off, pointedly looking at Gabriel.

Gabriel snorted, “They were working on alien tech for the government, I think. I figured I’d find out what the fuss had been. And now look at my baby.” He smiled proudly as he patted the car again. The car hummed, seeming pleased too.

Sam tried to fill in the gaps of what Gabriel hadn’t said and then, “You stole a top secret car from a top secret government lab?” he asked, almost resigned, because Gabriel always did this. He had stolen half the equipment from his college Physics lab because they wouldn’t let him in during holidays and he took shelves of books from all the libraries he frequented. He called it ‘borrowing’ but he never did give anything back.

“I borrowed it,” Gabriel indignantly exclaimed.

“No! I stole him,” the car chimed in at the same time, just as loudly. Sam had his hands over his ears before he remembered it wasn’t any use, because the car spoke in his head.

“Volume.” he sternly told them both. The car pulsed out an apology and offered him a head massage- to the inside of his head. Sam politely declined.

Gabriel came and sat beside him. After a moment, he nudged an elbow into Sam’s stomach. By degrees he wormed himself into Sam’s arms.

“I was going to tell you, I just wanted to do it some way it wouldn’t freak you out.” Gabriel said, into his chest.

“Some way a talking car wouldn’t freak me out? Good luck with that one,” Sam grumbled, curling a hand into Gabriel’s hair and caressing him.

Gabriel laughed and asked, “What did you think when it told you to ‘duck’?”

“Figured it was haunted, man,” Sam admitted.

Gabriel snorted, “Ghosts aren’t real, Sammy.”

Then he felt Sam stiffening up and pulled back to see Sam looking like a deer in headlights.

Uncertainly, he asked, “Sam? Ghosts aren’t real, right? How can they be?”   

“What, a talking car is fine but you don’t believe in ghosts?” Sam said. 

Gabriel kept looking at him so he said, “Uh. So.” and settled down to explain the story of his life.  


Gabriel is hyperaware of Sam’s fragility, of how fragile all humans are compared to him. Considering how many he has broken, this is hardly surprising.

So when he touches Sam it’s gentle like he’s touching porcelain. No matter how Sam pushes or begs or demands, there’s no pressure behind the contact.

And afterwards, in the nights, after they are both sated, he’s curious– how do they live like that? “How do you turn on a stove knowing you might burn to death? It’s just so…” Gabriel gestures violently, “Reckless!”

Sam patiently answers everything, until he just huffs and says, “That’s how we are! We’re all gonna die someday Gabriel. That’s what being human means.”

Gabriel says slowly, fingers hovering over Sam’s face, “Yes. You’re all so short-lived. Brief. Humanity’s existence is brief. Any single human life span…”

Then the expression on Gabriel’s face drags a question from Sam, “Would you love me if I wasn’t going to die?”

Gabriel takes far too long to answer.


There’s a mirror. Sam’s seen it before, of course he has. He’s seen it all his life, mostly through the corner of his eyes. He didn’t think much of it in the midst of everything else that was weird in his life. All of the blurry images he sees, for instance.

He had told Dean that his wings were changing from brownish to a slate grey and that he was probably a Peregrine falcon- it was the yellow bit under his beak and the white barred chest that gave it away. He had been telling Dean about the occasional blurriness around people all his life but Dean had just taken him to an eye doctor (mocking him for reading those heavy books he liked) and then waved it off when the doctor (a rather heavy spider- maybe a goliath birdeater, Sam had whispered to Dean) told them that he had excellent vision.

He had stopped waving it off after Sam had told him about that guy in North Carolina who was sometimes an alligator. He almost got Dad killed, Dean had said, spitting out the words angrily before he remembered to protect Sammy from unpleasant realities.


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Everything’s hilarious. No, seriously, everything. After half a bottle of that barman’s choice, a knife in the gut would be hilarious.


Even the fact that Gabriel had been in that folder of his on his laptop. That had his notes. The notes he had written to Dad and Dean after he left (was thrown out). The notes he wrote to Jess when she went home for the holidays and he was stuck on campus trying to make enough cash to pay for textbooks. The notes he wrote to Jess after she died, telling her to find Mum.


The notes he’s been writing to Gabriel ever since he started falling for the fucking asshole.


No one ever reads it. He had the folder named as something boring and pretentious. (He had named it ‘Romanticism’ when he was living with Jess because Jess hated the Romantics)


Now, fucking Gabriel had to go fucking ruin everything. Sam fell asleep and snored his troubles away temporarily.


“What about my ass, Winchester? It’s a fine ass,” Gabriel says, gesturing at it, “Even if I do say so myself. I made it after all.”


“I think it needs beating,” Sam growls, hunching over his laptop, away from Gabriel’s gaze.


It didn’t help. The intent look still made him flush. “Kinky,” Gabriel says, approvingly and disappears leaving behind a cascade of sweet things.


The next time, it’s, “Was it my charm or my humble disregard for self, Sam?” Gabriel asks, lying across Sam’s bed with his boots on and peering into the book Sam’s searching for clues to their latest hunt. Sam stifles a sigh.  


Gabriel falls asleep like that but mysteriously, the book seems stuck on a particular page. Sam considers it thoughtfully, it certainly fit the signs.


Then, Sam rapidly gets irritated. The thing with Gabriel is he just cannot let go. The joke’s over, there’s no more hilarity to be found. But catch Gabriel realizing it.


So when Gabriel appears and asks, “No ode to my eyes? They’ve gotten odes before now,” Sam’s had it.


Sam says, “I swear to God, Gabriel…” and his fists are clenched, and he’s hunched over himself a little, and can’t make himself stop.


Gabriel stops and looks sharply at him and then his lips curve up wickedly, “Let’s leave Dad out of this, baby Winchester,” and he crowds Sam against the chair that is now a couch and Sam sits down and Gabriel straddles his lap and cups his face and looks at him and Sam would write a dozen odes to his eyes if he only knew how.


And then Sam gets it. He’ll ask Gabriel later, why he can’t ever do anything the simple way. For now, he’s too busy kissing him.



Dust as far as the eye could see. With an archangel’s eyes that was a lot of dust. 

Gabriel stopped where he stood with an uncharacteristic frown on his face. He had realized that young Sam’s dreams couldn’t exactly be…pleasant but he hadn’t expected this.

“I don’t dream about you,” Sam said and Gabriel whipped around, surprised.

“Yeah, I’m not part of your dream. Real me here,” he gestured to himself.

Sam’s suspicious look breaks down and the exhaustion comes through clearly now, “Why are you here? Lucifer had other things to do so you’re his stand-in?”

“No,” Gabriel says roughly, he feels like being gentle and it’s unfamiliar enough to make him rage. “I wanted to… I wanted to talk to you. In private, without your brother around calling me a monster because that’s really only funny the first twenty times.”

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s staving off a headache, then he turns his back on Gabriel and walks away. Gabriel follows and soon sees that Sam has a destination in mind. They climb the tallest bit of ground there is and Sam slowly sits down, arms around his knees.

“This is all there’s going to be, when Lucifer’s finally got me. When Dean’s dead,” Sam says, his voice thin like he’s been talking just to hear a human voice. “There won’t be anything left here except him in me and any angel who Falls with him.”

The first time they met, Gabriel felt that he and Sam were two of a kind and reacted violently against it. He can hear ‘when the world ends’ in the way he says ‘when Dean’s dead,’ and that’s the moment he’s through with blaming Sam for his brothers going to war. They only ever needed an excuse. It isn’t Sam’s fault that his brother deserves his love when Gabriel’s brothers don’t. It isn’t Sam’s fault Gabriel never learned how to stop loving them anyway.

He looks out over the wasteland that Lucifer promises to make (honeyed, sweet promises, that it’s all for the best and he believes it. That damn self-righteous asshole believes that he’s making things right) of his second home. The home he chose. He blindly reaches out a hand to curl around Sam’s neck. Sam stiffens up and stays stiff for the longest time while Gabriel can’t find the words he needs. Then comes the moment where Sam suddenly relaxes back into the touch, as if he gets what Gabriel isn’t saying. Or as if he’s willing to blindly trust in the goodness of others just one more time.

With an archangel’s eyes you can see far and somewhere in the distance Gabriel can see a fir tree growing slowly.


Part ½

(Part 2 here, epilogue type thing here)


Sam’s powers have been out of control ever since Dean had gotten Gabriel and Cas (and Death. Sam wonders when he and Dean became BFFs) to drag him and Adam out of the Cage. There was still no news on how come Gabriel wasn’t dead, but they were so used to seeing Cas come back that they figured it was probably God being inscrutable or something again and shoved it off as being very low on their list of problems.


“My dreams are weird,” he tells Gabriel, one day, when they’re both on some beach or the other wearing the sort of touristy colorful things (Gabriel’s idea) that made Sam’s eyes hurt.


Gabriel jerks his head in a, ‘go on,’ motion but Sam can tell he’s anxious.


Sam shrugs and says, “They’re not about the Cage. Just weird.”


Gabriel says, “I’ll check up on them this night.”


Sam’s torn, he really wants some privacy, but going by his past experience, weird dreams should be nipped in the bud.


So that night, he has the singular experience of trying to get to sleep under Gabriel’s unnatural, unblinking stare. It’s only in that half-state between asleep and awake which feels like dying that it is a comforting weight and Sam doesn’t really remember that, any more than he remembers Dean rocking his cradle.


The dream goes much like any of the others have, he’s doing…something or the other. He’s a doctor this time, a herbal doctor and considered mad because of his finicky ways. He insists that people bathe often and boil water before drinking it. He’s standing in an indistinct little room at the end of an indistinct little village and blinking in the gloom of the twilight at the man leaning against the door.


Loki laughs and tells him, “I’m the patron of mad people, kiddo. Haven’t you heard?” and he feels himself dimple up and lean in for a kiss.


Sam jerks awake as Gabriel tears out of him and they stare at each other in the glow of the dawn and Sam’s heart sinks at Gabriel’s pale, sweaty face.


“It’s just a dream,” Sam snaps at him.


“It isn’t,” Gabriel tells him flatly, “It happened. I remember. Humans don’t generally remember their past lives because it’ll break their brains. Leave them vegetables. We’ve got a problem.” Gabriel says, and the wild look in his eyes warns Sam not to say anything more.



From a prompt on comment-fic by enmuse: Gabriel and Sam met before - in Sam’s previous lifetime(s). (Could’ve been when Gabriel was still full-on archangel or as a trickster. Ficlet could be a snapshot of the time or Gabriel reminiscing or Sam having strange dreams/flashbacks…) 


Gabriel keeps falling asleep on him. Like, everywhere. Not when Cas is there. When Dean’s there he sort of…turns himself invisible. 

Cas rarely travels in the car with them. He says it’s too confining, he’s uneasy when he can’t see the sky properly. Sam thinks it’s just because he gets jealous of all the cooing Dean does over his car. Gabriel doesn’t come during the short drives, the ones to the supermarket or to a bar. But the long ones, where they’re driving for eight, twelve hours at a time- then he does.

It’s strange, Gabriel’s sprawled over him on that small front seat and it’s not uncomfortable, it’s not hot, it’s fine. Some of it is Gabriel’s mojo, Sam thinks.

You’d think night time would be the obvious choice, and he does come then but he doesn’t come every night. Well, there was that one week where he came every night and glared at the gashes on Sam’s arm (an inch more and it would’ve gotten to his stomach and his guts would be on some forest floor and Dean would be off doing some damn fool thing) until they healed and left behind only another scar to add to his collection and he flew away. The doctor had said it’d take at least three weeks to heal. Sam doesn’t thank Gabriel, except for holding him a little closer when he finally comes back.

Then there was that one time, when Dean’s trying to score with some girl, joking that he desperately needs to know he’s still sexy (and Sam didn’t pointedly roll his eyes because pointing out Dean’s big gay crisis isn’t actually going to solve it) and Gabriel’s there, tossing fries into his mouth. He starts off in Dean’s seat, opposite Sam. He moves beside Sam to steal his food and by degrees ends up tucked into Sam’s chest. 

“He does know that’s not going to help his big gay love become any less gay?” Gabriel asks sleepily and Sam snorts out his beer laughing.

Now Sam’s just lying here, and it’s February and their motel doesn’t have a heater, naturally, and he’s not really thinking of anything. Not really, except that it’s always warmer with two people and that Gabriel hasn’t shown up in a few days. Then he hears a muted rustling sound and he’s got a familiar armful of archangel. 

Gabriel mutters, “Stop thinking so loudly.”

Then Sam mentally shrugs and stops bothering to think at all.