*Oprah voice* And YOU get some angst, and YOU get some angst, and YOU get some angst …!
Part 10 of my Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels collection, because I have no self-control. I recently received a comment that simply said, "Poor Gabe. He's a mess." And I thought, "Maybe I should just call my series that."
WARNING: this story contains themes of sexual assault.
My work is often posted on Tumblr first. You can also read about how awkward and weird I am. .com
Gabriel had given in to Sam's pleas for him to eat some soup.
Sam had ordered the minestrone, as he always did, because it was bland enough not to stir up memories of what Gabriel had been forced to consume in Hell. Gabriel generally followed Sam's requests, however tentatively. Sam hoped that it was because he'd gained Gabriel's trust, and not because Gabriel feared the consequences of defiance.
Besides, they both knew that while sustenance wasn't necessary to keep Gabriel alive, it hastened the process of replenishing the grace that had been ravaged and violated for nearly a millennium.
So Gabriel let Sam, Dean, and Castiel take him out for food at the local diner now and again. Most frequently it was Sam who offered to do so, and Sam whom Gabriel agreed to accompany.
Today, that was what he had done, and now they were situated in a booth close to both the door and the counter.
The waiter came over to refill their water glasses and smiled. He was large, with a kind rosy face that marked him as somewhere in his late thirties. Sam was reminded of a medieval friar. "How is everything, gentlemen?"
"Great," Sam said, "Thanks." Once the waiter had left, Sam muttered to Gabriel: "Too classy for a joint like this, don't you think?"
"Mm," Gabriel agreed, avoiding Sam's eyes, and several minutes passed in silence.
Nothing seemed amiss until, mid-swallow, the spoon slipped from Gabriel's fingers and clattered into the bowl, splattering soup onto the table.
Before Sam could do more than look up at Gabriel in puzzlement, Gabriel covered his mouth and retched.
"Gabriel, what - " Sam began, but Gabriel shot to his feet and staggered towards the restroom at the back of the diner.
"Gabriel!" The other customers stared as Sam hurried to catch up with him. But Gabriel slammed the door before Sam could follow him in and, to Sam's dismay, somehow had the presence of mind to lock it.
Sam struggled to get the door open. "Gabriel!"
The waiter approached, water pitcher in hand and brow creased in concern. "What's the matter?"
"My friend is sick," Sam explained, trying the door again. "I need to make sure he's - "
"I have a key." The waiter touched Sam's arm to reassure him. "Wait here."
He disappeared into the kitchen, and Sam was left to listen to Gabriel choking. Evidently the other diners could hear it too, because several put down their sandwiches in disgust.
Sam was silently scolding himself for leaving his lockpick in the car - though it might have earned him a little extra unwanted attention if he'd just started wrestling the door open - when the waiter reemerged.
Immediately, he shoved the key into the lock.
The door opened to reveal Gabriel kneeling in front of the toilet. His eyes snapped up at them in terror. "No, get out, get out; please get out!"
Sam nodded at the waiter, who cast Gabriel a worried glance before pulling the door closed.
Once they had privacy, Sam asked: "Did I miss something?"
Gabriel groaned, not looking at him.
"You wanna tell me what's going on?"
"You wanna tell me why you practically broke the door down?"
"Don't be melodramatic. The waiter had a - "
Gabriel threw up again, which Sam had not been expecting. He bit his lip, wishing he hadn't just eaten.
As Gabriel gasped for breath, Sam asked, "How come you didn't say anything?"
Gabriel braced a hand on the sink and dragged himself back to a standing position. "The usual. I think my mental integrity took a wrong turn and got lost somewhere on I-35."
"No, I mean what set it off? Was it the food? I know sometimes you'll taste or smell something that - "
"No, Sam. It wasn't the food." Gabriel turned on the sink, wincing at his haggard reflection in the mirror, and splashed himself with water cold enough to burn. "I don't want to have this conversation in a moldy public bathroom."
As they left the restroom and made their way to the exit, Gabriel kept his eyes fixed on the floor, evidently not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.
Then, before they could leave, Sam halted. "Oh, hold on - I have to pay the waiter."
As if on cue, the waiter scurried over to them and addressed Gabriel. "Sir, are you all right? Do you need medical assistance?"
Gabriel's face lost what little color it had regained in the past few minutes. He shook his head, lips clenched and arms folded over his stomach.
Sam was quick to notice. "Here - " He withdrew his wallet from his jacket pocket an shoved a fistful of bills into the waiter's hand. "Keep the change."
"You really don't have to - "
"No. No, you were great. Thank you."
The second the glass door tinkled shut behind them, Gabriel spoke. "I can't do this. I can't anymore."
"I can help you; you know I can help."
"No Sam, I know you think you can help. Look, I'm not saying you don't have a good intuition for this stuff. Handling me must not be all that different from handling a vengeful spirit who" - Gabriel placed both hands over his heart in mock sentiment - "just wanted to be loved all along."
"Stop it, Gabriel."
"But this isn't working," Gabriel went on, ignoring him. "These trips out of the bunker for soup and coffee and impromptu CBT. I always manage to find something new to turn me into what you just saw. Sam … I'm getting worse, not better."
"No." Sam shook his head. "No, you're doing fine. Don't hold yourself to such high standards."
"I'm sorry, but when have you ever met an angel with low standards?"
Sam offered a tight smile. "Well, Lucifer did pick me to be his vessel. Gabe, you have to give yourself some credit. Think about where you were when you first came to stay with us. You're different now."
Gabriel snorted. "Oh yeah? Listen, I'm every bit as thrilled as you are that I managed three mouthfuls instead of two before it all came back up. But I'm not better, Sam. I'm screwy in new ways."
Sam sighed. "We'll leave this for another day, all right? Get in the car; you need to drink some water."
The five-minute drive back to the bunker was silent, save for the crackle of plastic as Gabriel sipped from a bottle of tepid store-brand water. Sam kept glancing sideways at him, watching for signals of distress. He felt a little guilty for not picking up on them in the diner.
"Knock it off, Sam," Gabriel snapped. "You're giving me the creeps."
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and focused on the road.
The second they entered the bunker, Gabriel charged down the stairs and disappeared.
"Gabriel!" Sam chased after him, but by the time he got to Gabriel's room the door was shut. "Gabriel, nothing's gonna get easier if you just hole up in your - "
"What are you doing?"
Sam turned around to find Castiel standing behind him. "I'm trying to get Gabriel to talk to me."
Castiel frowned at the door. "Sam, I don't think he wants to right now."
"He never wants to, Cas; he - I just don't want him hiding from everyone and getting lost in his own head."
Castiel considered. "I think maybe you should leave him alone."
"What good will -"
"For now, Sam. Only for now. I would advise you to let him calm down on his own terms until he's ready to explain what's upsetting him."
"Cas," Sam said desperately, "You know what he's like. By the time he lets me do anything to make him feel safe, he might be too far gone for it to work."
Castiel thought about this. "I'd still recommend giving him at least a few minutes of solitude. He's in a different place from where he was when he first got here, and he might have a different way of handling drawbacks."
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I tried to tell him he was making good progress. But … I think maybe I was just looking to convince myself."
"Sam." Castiel spoke softly. "What happened?"
Sam glanced at the door and gestured for Cas to follow him several feet away so that Gabriel wouldn't overhear. "Something freaked him out, and he wouldn't say what. But his reaction, it … it was bad, Cas."
Castiel's features hardened. "How bad?"
"He was trying to eat some soup. I don't think that would've set him off, not by itself. Maybe I wasn't …" Sam shifted. "I guess I missed the signs, because I was a little shocked when he just started gagging at the table."
"Well, that in itself isn't unusual for him."
"Except then, he locked himself in the bathroom and refused to let me in."
"I'm sorry Sam, but I'm not hearing anything new."
"And then, the waiter opened the door with a key. And when we - "
"He needed a key? Couldn't you have done it yourself?"
Sam looked away. "I uh … I left the lockpick in the car. I - that's beside the point."
"Why would you leave that in the car? It's easy to carry around and you should always have it on you."
"Yes, yeah; I get it, Cas. Anyway, once Gabriel saw us he started yelling that he wanted us gone. Begging for us to leave."
"He probably didn't want you to see him in that state. And he certainly wouldn't have appreciated an unfamiliar third party." Castiel paused.
"What was the waiter like?"
"The waiter? He was nice. Really nice. Helpful."
"Did he do anything that might have taken my brother off-guard? Perhaps he said something that wouldn't have registered with you as unsettling, but could have drudged up a bad memory for Gabriel?"
"Uh. 'Enjoy your soup'? What, you think Asmodeus said something like that before throwing him into a pool of body fluids?"
"What did the waiter look like?"
Sam shrugged. "Nothing like Asmodeus, if that's what you're thinking. Heavy. Round face. Like a baby Santa Claus. I don't know what the guy could've done, Cas. He was anything but intimidating."
"You know Gabriel doesn't see the world that way right now. Even the kindest, gentlest creature could register as a threat if it had the right attributes."
Sam sighed and looked back at the door. "I guess I should go check on him."
"Be prepared for some resistance. If he's not ready, just ask if you can do anything to make it easier on him. As I said, I think what he needed some time ago may be different from what he needs now."
Sam hesitated. "Cas … it's not just that I want him to tell me what's going on. I think he -" Sam turned slightly, making sure the door was still shut, and lowered his voice. "I think he might hurt himself."
Castiel looked wary. "What do you mean, 'hurt himself'?"
"He … he got all worked up a few weeks ago over this whole thing about not wanting us to be good to him. When I tried to tell him he was wrong, he said he was going to look for the archangel blade if … if I wouldn't …"
Sam trailed off, but Castiel didn't need to hear more. "I doubt there's anything in the bedroom that could do serious damage." A pause, and then: "You're right. We should make sure he's okay."
Sam moved back to stand in front of the door and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Gabriel?"
No response.
"Gabriel, can Cas and I come in?"
There was another moment of silence. Sam was about to give in and shove the door open when he heard movement. Sam edged away, intending to put a few inches between himself and Gabriel so that Gabriel wouldn't feel cornered.
The door creaked open and Gabriel stood before the two of them, eyes raised to meet Sam's.
"Gabriel," Sam said, relieved. "Gabriel, I - "
"Sam." Gabriel's voice trembled.
Sam looked closely at him. "Gabe, what is it? What's wrong?"
"Sam." This time Gabriel sounded panicked. "Sam, I need you. I need you now."
Sam exchanged a glance with Castiel, who said, "Do you - "
"I'm fine. We'll be fine, Cas. Thanks." He gave Castiel's shoulder a quick squeeze before ushering Gabriel into the bedroom and shutting the door again.
Sam went to the closet and retrieved one of the spare blankets from the top shelf. "Come on." He helped Gabriel to the bed and, once Gabriel was settled, draped the blanket over his shoulders.
Sam sat beside him. Gabriel shivered as if freezing cold, jumping at nothing once every few seconds.
"I think you should tell me what happened," Sam said.
"Are you - " Gabriel's breathing was quick and shallow. "Are you going to make me eat?"
The question took Sam by surprise. "No."
Gabriel drew his knees up to his chest."What are you going to do to me?"
"Nothing! You know that."
Gabriel didn't respond.
"Can you tell me what's bothering you?" Sam pressed. "Please?"
Gabriel licked his lips. Then, at last, he nodded, releasing his knees. The blanket began to slip off and Sam resecured it.
"Do you remember," Gabriel began, "When I told you about how Asmodeus used to eviscerate me and cram my own organs down my throat?"
Sam tensed. "Yeah, I remember that."
"Well, that was only one way of force-feeding me. The guy's creative, I'll give him that. And you know the … the stuff that wakes me up at night?"
An image flashed through Sam's mind: Gabriel jammed up against the bedroom wall, trying to shield half of his body from attack. "Of course I do."
There was quiet, and then more quiet; and when the silence went on too long, Sam realized that Gabriel was hardly breathing.
"Hey," said Sam, "Try not to do that. You're gonna work yourself up."
Gabriel sucked in a little more air, then managed a deeper breath. "I'm afraid of telling you."
"You know you don't need to be scared with me."
"I do know." He surprised Sam by moving his arm around the edge of the blanket and lacing their fingers together. "I'm just not sure how to tell you about it."
"Okay, well, I'm not giving you a script. Or rules, or … Gabriel, there's nothing you can't do when it's just me. There's no reason you have to reign yourself in. I know it's a tough habit to break, but it's better if you try to open up, you know?"
Gabriel said nothing again, staring down at his lap. Then, finally, he went on. "If … when Asmodeus did what he liked to do … before he finally stitched me up, sometimes he'd … he'd make me …" Gabriel gestured to his mouth, avoiding Sam's eyes. "And after, he'd drag me out of the cell and throw me in front of a mirror. So that I could see my whole body, not just my face. And he'd call me a - he'd say I was - " Gabriel swallowed hard. "The term he used was 'glutinous.' And he kept telling me that no matter what I did to fight it, I would always be full of him."
Sam grimaced.
"The mirror," Gabriel continued, looking dangerously near sickness again, "It didn't show me. It showed - I mean, yes, it was me, but - when he told me I was greedy, that he'd always be inside of me and it was my fault - " Gabriel jerked with a violent shudder. "When he made me look at myself, he changed me. It was me, but I was different; my - my body was different." At last, Gabriel lifted his eyes to meet Sam's. "The waiter. I looked like that."
Sam tried to take all of this in - tried to envision it, and yet strove not to see; found he couldn't get a clear picture, and yet observed everything as if he stood in front of Asmodeus too.
The idea of being twisted into something he wasn't, the notion of seeing himself become - in the most physical sense - the lies he'd been compelled to accept as truth …
Sam was struck by a vision of what this would have been like if Lucifer had done the same to him. But he shoved the thought away, because it made him feel sick and vulnerable and out of control.
"Right," he said. "So it was seeing him that did it, huh?"
"I just … I couldn't help it." There were shadows beneath Gabriel's eyes, and Sam noticed how thin he'd become, how gaunt his face looked.
"Might do you some good to lie down," Sam suggested.
Gabriel glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's only 5:00 P.M.."
"Yeah, that's okay. I won't let you sleep too long if you're worried about getting to bed later." Gabriel wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, Sam knew, but it was nice that he tried.
Gabriel let go of Sam's hand and wrapped himself more tightly in the blanket. "Where will you be?"
"I need to do research, but I'll come back to check on you in a little bit." He adjusted the blanket around Gabriel's shoulders. It didn't really need to be moved, but there was something disturbing about watching Gabriel take on the responsibility, however small, of trying to soothe himself when Sam had been the one to do it ten minutes ago.
"Gabriel," said Sam, "I'm getting the vibe that you'd rather I bring everything in here."
Guilt crossed Gabriel's face. "You don't - "
"I can do that. Wait a second, okay?"
Gabriel looked away. "I just wish my grace would - "
"It will. You'll get it back. All of it. You're already healing faster than you were before." That much was true: just before Gabriel had threatened to find the archangel blade, he'd slipped and fallen down the stairs, slamming his face into the floor with almost no lasting pain.
"That's all well and good," Gabriel muttered, "But I'm tired and I hate being so tired that I have to sleep. I don't want to sleep; it scares the crap out of me."
"I know it does. But listen, I'm gonna grab what I need and then I'll stay here. Don't try to fight me on it."
"Well, it's not like I have the dignity to - "
"Don't keep saying that. You have plenty of dignity."
Before Gabriel could protest, Sam had left the room.
He found Castiel standing at the end of the hallway. "Cas, have you been there the whole time?"
"I was concerned something might go awry." Castiel studied him with unexpected and strangely disconcerting compassion. "Sam, I know this can't be easy on you. I think the only other times I've seen you dedicate so much energy to any one thing has been when Dean was in trouble. I'm worried about Gabriel, but I'm also worried about you."
"What? Why would - "
"Because there's nothing quite like watching so many of your own horrors play out in another person." Castiel moved nearer to him. "I'm not saying you can't handle it; you've demonstrated that you're more than capable. I just want to reassure you that it isn't wrong to become overwhelmed."
"I'm not overwhelmed, Cas."
"Well, you know you can consult me if you find that you are." Castiel paused. "Also, I need to ask you something. Not that I disapprove, but what is it that has brought you to commit to my brother like this? You never knew each other particularly well. And of course he's hurt you on more than one occasion."
Sam smiled, but not without a touch of sadness. "You said something about being witness to your own past?"
"I suppose when you phrase it as a question, the notion that you'd be inclined to provide solace isn't so surprising."
"And besides …" Sam glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door. "The guy is wrecked, Cas. I've never seen someone change so much. It freaks me out. This is way better for me than letting him rot inside. I just want to help him get back to who he was."
"You should bear in mind that you may not be able to achieve that. Especially not on your own. What happened to him isn't your responsibility, Sam."
"I just want to help," Sam repeated.
"I'm only asking you to remember that there's more than one of us to do that."
Sam smiled a little more genuinely this time. "I will. I already know."
As he stood in the library sorting through which materials he might need, Sam thought about what Castiel had said. He hoped he wasn't displaying signs of weariness. Of course he'd had long nights, had had moments of helplessness in which he felt he could do nothing to make Gabriel feel like he'd really left Asmodeus behind him.
Cas wasn't wrong - sometimes the horror of rewatching the aftermath of torture did feel like a little too much. Yet for Sam, instinct inevitably overrode discomfort; it always had, no matter the scenario. Sam could have seen anyone in Gabriel's state and felt the need to assist in some way. Except this wasn't just anyone.
Ultimately, the worst experiences for Sam tended not to be what was familiar to him but what was beyond his reach. He tried; he always tried - and yet once in a while he couldn't bring Gabriel back into the present.
Failure was what hurt the most.
When Sam reentered the bedroom with an armful of books, Gabriel had already fallen asleep. So he settled himself on the floor and began scouring the texts for information that could prove useful in new situations, or that offered knowledge of what he had faced down before. More than anything else, he was interested in reading about angels, since they comprised a good number of his friends and enemies alike. But most of the texts covered monsters, spirits, and demons, so he waded through as much as he could, knowing anything he learned could save lives.
Sam was so lost in his reading an hour later that it took him a moment to notice movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up halfway through a lengthy passage on necromancy to find Gabriel flinching in his sleep.
Sam frowned, watching him and trying to figure out if he was really in distress. Gabriel seemed to be on the edge of wakefulness: in Sam's experience, most people didn't start twitching or muttering until they were being drawn out of the deeper stages of sleep. But when Gabriel started whimpering, Sam pushed himself up from the floor and moved over to stand next to the bed.
"Gabriel?" Gabriel rolled over and shivered. Sam knew better than to touch him. "Gabriel."
Gabriel's eyes fluttered open, then focused on Sam. His face took on a fearful expression.
"It's all right," said Sam, "It's just me."
Gabriel sat up. "What time is it?"
"A little after six."
"Agh …" Gabriel scrubbed his hands over his face. His eyes were cloudy and his hair was a mess. "Seems later. I feel like I've been asleep for a day and a half."
"Were you dreaming?"
Gabriel looked at him, then suddenly edged away to sit back against the headboard. He picked up the pillow and held it close.
Sam's flesh crawled. Seizing a pillow for comfort was something Gabriel had done when he'd first arrived at the bunker all those months ago. The only noticeable difference was the absence of blood. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Gabriel's eyes shone with tears.
Alarmed, Sam moved closer. "Gabriel, what - "
"It was you." Gabriel's voice was thick. "In the dream … in the dream it was you who looked different." His face twisted as he tried to hold himself together. "Sam, it was like he was inside of you."
Horror pooled in Sam's stomach. "He's not. Gabriel it's me, just me."
"I know, but …" He looked Sam up and down, searching for signs of deformity - for something that wasn't Sam. "Sam, I don't …"
Sam sat on the edge of the mattress. "You don't what?"
"No!" Gabriel gripped the pillow the way he sometimes gripped Sam in spasms of desperation.
Sam stared in bewilderment before realizing what Gabriel meant. He backed away to sit at the foot of the bed. "Is this better?"
Gabriel nodded.
"You were going to say something."
"I just - I don't - nothing's safe," Gabriel blurted out. "Not right now. Sam, everything's disgusting. Everything's dangerous and wrong and gruesome and - and warped. Nothing feels like what it's supposed to be." He clutched the pillow more tightly. "I can't - I can't have you be like that too! I'm not safe, not if you don't feel safe!"
"Gabriel. It's okay. You were dreaming and Asmodeus is gone and - "
"You don't understand." Gabriel took one hand off of the pillow to wipe his eyes. "It's not just you. It's everything. I see a bad dream wherever I look. Even when nothing is really wrong. It's like something is coming and I can feel it right there and all I can do is wait for - for - "
"Ssh. Gabriel, listen. He's not here. And he's not in you, and he's not in me. He's in your memory, but that's all. Nothing else. He's gone. And you're safe. Look at me, huh?" Sam gave a small smile. "Do I look anything like what you saw in your dream?"
Gabriel was trembling violently now. His eyes fell on Sam for a split second, and then squeezed shut.
"Should I get someone else?" Sam was pleading now. "Cas said he's worried about you. Do you want him?"
Gabriel didn't answer, just lowered his face to the pillow in his arms.
"Gabriel?"
Gabriel shook his head.
"You're okay, Gabriel. You're fine. I would tell you if you weren't; I promise."
Still, no response. Sam was just wondering whether all he could do was wait this out when Gabriel raised his head and choked, "Gonna throw up."
"Oh, Gabriel …"
"Don't - " Gabriel was clearly struggling to speak. "Don't get mad. Please."
Sam stood to retrieve the trash can from beside the dresser. "I'm not mad, Gabriel; I'm never mad about this. Why would I get mad at you for feeling nauseous?"
"He did." Gabriel released the pillow and, without moving from his position against the headboard, accepted the trash can. His face was the color of chalk. "One day I - " He swallowed, staring down into the trash can. "I got sick when you weren't around and I - I was afraid of someone seeing, so … so I did what he always made me do."
"Oh my god, Gabriel, you didn't - "
"He told me to!" Gabriel retched and Sam instinctively reached out before remembering it might be a bad idea. But when nothing else happened, Gabriel kept talking. "He made me lick it off the floor! Off of him!"
Sam recoiled in disgust. "That's not going to happen again. It's all right if you have to throw up. There's no need to be scared, Gabriel."
Sam wasn't sure if it was that he had given permission, but he had barely finished speaking before Gabriel vomited several times in the span of seconds. Sam didn't dare touch him, and was tempted to look away both out of helplessness and physical empathy. But he simply sat in silence, waiting for it to be over.
When it was, Gabriel tried to clamber off the bed but Sam took the trash can from his hands. "I got it."
"I'm sorry," Gabriel whispered as Sam placed it to the side."
You want some water or something?"
"No."
Guilt swam through Sam's veins. "Hey, listen. Gabe …" He faltered, debating how he wanted to explain himself. "Look, I know I've been pushing you and pushing you and … it's just because I hate not being sure. And because I think it's better for you to tell me what you're feeling. But I never mean to push you hard enough to hurt you."
Gabriel frowned at him. "It is better. You know what I should be doing, Sam. I do need to rest; I do need to talk. I'd get upset anyway, especially if this is all is charging through my head like a flesh-eating bull. And if someone's going to try and - and tear information out of me, I want it to be you." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, Cas … he's great. He listens. But the thing is, Sam, Castiel is afraid of pushing me. He's all too aware how ugly things can get. I don't know if it's because he's squeamish about it, or if it's because he doesn't want to make things worse, but sometimes he … he doesn't push enough."
Sam nodded. "All right. But let me know if my method gets to be more than you can deal with. Are you feeling any better?"
"A little, I guess."
"And uh … how about the dream?"
Gabriel gritted his teeth. "It's there. But you're not as …" He raised his eyes. "You can touch me now."
"It's okay; that's your call."
Gabriel looked uncomfortable. "Really? Because if you don't want to I understand. I'm disgusting even when I haven't just upchucked into whatever container was most convenient."
"Come on, I've seen my fair share of disgusting things. You know you can't hold a candle to any of those. But look, here - " Sam wrapped an arm around him, and Gabriel relaxed slightly.
But perhaps Sam had only been imagining that, because then Gabriel asked, "You don't see any of it, right?"
Sam peered down at him, puzzled. "Sorry?"
"Any of what I told you. I don't look like that, right? Like what he showed me?"
"What? Gabriel, of course not."
"Are you sure?"
"Why would you think that?"
Gabriel closed his eyes. "Because I don't know who I am. I don't know what I'm made of or what's even real. I don't want - " He opened his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. "I don't want him to be inside of me. I don't want to be full of him. I don't want to be glutinous like he told me I was. I don't want - "
"Gabriel, calm down. Everything's okay. You're with me, not him."
Gabriel buried his face in Sam's side. "It won't stop. Me, like that - because of him - because of what he did - "
"Gabriel, it's okay; everything's okay."
"No, he's - Sam, it feels - "
"But he's not."
"No, no, he's - " Gabriel's breathing grew rapid and shallow as he pressed himself up against Sam. "Sam."
"Gabe."
Gabriel clutched at him. "Help me. Get him out."
Sam's chest tightened. "I can't, Gabriel. Because he's not there."
"Get him out!" Gabriel was crying now, choking on his words. "Get - him - out!"
Horrified, Sam pulled away to examine him. Gabriel's eyes were bright with terror, and his face was flushed.
"Gabriel," said Sam, "Listen to me."
Gabriel grabbed his arm and squeezed so harshly Sam felt fingernails digging into his flesh. "No, get him out!"
"He's not - "
"Please, Sam!"
Sam tugged himself away a second time and held Gabriel in place. Gabriel stared back at him with wild eyes. "I know this all feels like it's really happening. Right here, right now. But I need you to put yourself together so you don't get sick again. You can do it. Look at me and focus. I'm real. And you know that."
"No, I - I don't know. I'm scared." He seized Sam's hand. "Sam - "
The door opened. Sam turned around, expecting to see Castiel, and was surprised to find Dean instead.
"What the hell is going on in here?" he demanded. "Sounded like food poisoning at a funeral."
Gabriel sobbed and held on to Sam.
"Gabriel," Sam said quietly, "See? Dean's real. Doesn't he look real to you, Gabe?"
Gabriel didn't respond, but lifted his eyes to focus on Dean.
"What can I do to help?" Dean asked.
"Gabriel?" Sam ran a hand up and down his arm to help ground him. "What can Dean do to help?"
Gabriel clutched at Sam. When he began to hyperventilate, Sam loosened his hold so that Gabriel could breathe more easily.
Dean moved closer and bent down. "Think you lost something." He straightened up and laid the discarded blanket over Gabriel's shoulders.
Gabriel shuddered and gazed up at Dean in confusion.
"Okay," Dean said, "You know what I think'd do you some good? You haven't been out of this place in like two weeks except to go to the diner. When was the time you went for a walk, man? Had a little heart-to-heart with the fresh air?"
It took Gabriel several seconds to manage a reply. "Not - not sure."
"Well, I could stand to see the outside world. Why don't you come with me and Cas?"
Gabriel blinked, still trembling. "What makes you think that's a good idea?"
"What makes you think it isn't?"
With unexpected gusto, Gabriel scoffed. "Sam can testify to the fact that I'm not exactly ideal company right now."
Dean shrugged. "That makes two of us. Look, Cas can balance things out. If you don't want to, that's fine; but otherwise Cas and I are both gonna stay in here and burn our eyes out with books. And then I'm gonna raid the liquor cabinet."
"Cabinets," Sam corrected.
Dean jerked a thumb at Sam. "Gabe, don't you get sick of this guy after a while? Come on; come with us and take a break."
"I obviously don't get sick of him," Gabriel objected, and finally pushed himself out of Sam's grasp to sit up. "Hence my refusal to leave him alone."
"That's not what this is about," Sam assured him. "I think Dean just wants to spend some time with you."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "And also I'd like to save you from my brother, not the other way around."
Gabriel sighed. "Is this because Castiel is worried about me?"
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Guess I don't count, huh?"
Gabriel shifted on the bed. "It's weird, that's all."
"Why is it weird?"
"I … I guess I don't really see you as … as a …"
"Hey." Dean's features softened. "I think you forget the role I played for most of my life."
Gabriel looked at Sam, who smiled.
"So what do you say?" asked Dean.
Gabriel hesitated, and Sam laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think it might feel nice to get some sunlight? And they obviously want to help. You should let them."
Gabriel's eyes flitted back and forth between Dean and Sam. "You really want me to come?"
"Like I said," Dean replied, "We're not gonna go if you don't want to tag along, so it'd be doing us a favor."
Sam doubted that was true; Dean and Castiel could just as easily have enjoyed a walk on their own. He suspected that Gabriel knew it as well.
So he was all the more shocked when Gabriel climbed off of the bed, stumbling a little when his feet hit the floor.
"Easy, easy," said Dean, steadying him. Sam almost reminded his brother that Gabriel didn't like to be touched, but then remembered Gabriel saying he no longer felt threatened by Dean's hands.
And with that recollection, Sam asked himself how he could ever have thought that Gabriel might be stagnating. Of course things were getting better.
And unless Sam wanted to see only these horrible spasms of fear, he was going to have to worry less.
"You good?" Dean asked as they walked away from the bed. "Not feeling too woozy, right?"
"No, I think I was just sitting for too long."
Sam followed them to the doorway, and was tempted to ask if he should go with the three of them.
"Sammy," Dean said, reading his face, "I got this. We're fine."
Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "I'll be here when you get back, Gabriel."
Gabriel's face was still pale, but maybe that was from lack of proper sleep.
His eyes, however, were much more level than they had been several minutes before. "Thanks."
"Hey." Sam leaned down and hugged him. "Just so you know. You're doing good."
Gabriel rested his face in Sam's shoulder. "Maybe." Then he let go and followed Dean down the hall.
Standing alone, Sam thought back to what Castiel had told him earlier: What happened to him isn't your responsibility.
No, it wasn't; and yet Sam felt an odd flicker of grief, or loneliness, or uncertainty, as he stared into the empty bedroom.
Of course what happened hadn't been his responsibility. But this was a responsibility he had taken on, and it was strange to put it in others' hands.
Sam must have been tired himself, because his throat tightened as he dwelled on these thoughts, wondering exactly what it was that clawed at him this way.
He supposed all he could really do just then was wait for Gabriel to get back.