Sam was walking through the mall, because he was so so behind on shopping. He needed new clothes, badly, since he was kinda sorta maybe hunting on the sidelines and he tended to need to burn his clothes these days. The blood was too full on and the last thing he wanted was questions from his friends and college peers, because he really had no explanation for blood soaked clothes.

He was almost done, a few bags in his hands and suddenly his phone rang, causing him to drop the bags and almost tripped over a guy walking past. Sam caught his arm in time, “shit.. Sorry,” he gave him an apologetic smile, steadying him. The man was significantly shorter and Sam let go of his arm, looking at all the clothes that had flew out his hands, “sorry…”

a-bag-full-of-tricks-deactivate  asked:

prompt: Gabriel and Sam reunite and they hug and Gabriel won't let go because he's afraid if he does he'll loose Sam again. (or something like that)

((You got it! I’m going to assume post-Hammer of the Gods))

Gabriel woke to air full of the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

His ashy wings peeled themselves off the ground and vanished as he sat up, looking down at himself in confusion. His shirt was stained with blood, but where the angel blade had pierced him, he felt only a phantom ache.

/So I died./

He wondered vaguely if archangels could become ghosts, and if that’s what had happened to him. The archangel reached out with a slightly shaky hand, trailing his fingers over the mahogany floorboards. He could feel the knots in the wood, the dents and furrows. It felt solid enough.

/So I’m not a ghost. Then what am I…?/

That thought frightened Gabriel more than he’d care to admit. The thought that he’d turned into some…creature, some monster or revenant. He retreated inside his vessel for a moment, searching…

There. The soothing sense that was his grace. As he touched it, it resonated through him like a bell chime, humming to him. He was still an archangel.

So then how was he alive…?

He searched his memory, hunting through a sea of faces. There was one, so important to him. It drew him like a magnet, urging him to remember. He couldn’t find it–where was it?


The name came out of nowhere, followed by that face. Long brown hair, eyes that expressed everything he felt, a bitchface unrivaled by any other. But a soft smile transformed that face, a smile for only Gabriel to see. But one he’d never seen on Sam Winchester’s face before.

He needed to find Sam. Needed to so badly that the phantom ache in his chest grew to almost agonizing intensity. He needed to see him smile like the picture in his head did.

It took only a snap of the fingers for the archangel to vanish.

Dean had let him drive Baby for a bit. Not that he had much choice, anyways, it wasn’t like they had another car.

Sam needed time to think. Away from the motel room, away from Dean, away from the frankly nauseating sounds of Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View. Time to himself, to think about Gabriel.


He couldn’t stop thinking about the archangel. His name was a nagging word in the back of his mind, his face a constant presence in his dreams. Why, he had no idea. But Gabriel was always there…

His thoughts were thrown abruptly off track by an almighty THUD on the roof of the Impala, metal buckling with the force of the impact. As Sam grabbed for the salt-loaded sawed-off in the passenger seat, a face appeared in the winshield, an upside down, familiar face with amber eyes that twinkled distinctly with amusement even as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Excuse me sir, could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

Jesus, Gabriel!

Sam slammed down the brakes, hard, causing the Impala to screech to a stop. The archangel rolled off the roof, off the hood, and onto the ground. As Sam leapt out of the car and made a beeline for the archangel, a disgruntled Gabriel pulled himself up and brushed himself off, looking less than pleased.

“Jeez, Sam, give a guy a little warning next time.”

Sam halted his forward rush, bewildered by the feeling of euphoria that filled him at the archangel’s appearance.

“But–how are you–”

“Not dead?” Gabriel supplied drily. “Damned if I know.” Those amber eyes were alight with something–excitement? Anticipation? But Sam couldn’t tell.

“Jesus,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair. “Um, it’s good to see you–you know–alive.” Why was he so flustered? Gabriel had faked his own death before, and it hadn’t bothered him before.

“Don’t I know it.” Gabriel shuffled his feet slightly. “Hey, I kinda wanted to know…if…an angel…you know, kinda fancied you…and that angel had been a huge dick to you earlier on…would you…y'know…give him a chance?” Was he blushing?

Oh. Oh.

Was Gabriel–did Gabriel like him?

Sam was surprised to feel heat rising to his cheeks. Oh God, was he in love with Gabriel?!

The angel was looking up at him through his lashes now, and Sam wanted to laugh. But instead he smiled, a soft, warm smile. “Yeah. I think I would.”

He was surprised by the look of sheer delight in Gabriel’s eyes, transforming his entire face. Then the archangel’s arms were around his neck, and his around Gabriel’s waist, and they were in a tight embrace. That euphoria welled up in Sam again, making him dizzy. Gabriel’s breath was warm against the base of his throat, coming in short elated bursts, and Sam buried his face in the archangel’s hair.

The sky was growing dark when they finally pulled apart.