Gabriel's going out his way.

Spoilers for 5.19. Takes place after the conversation with Dean.

Being a lover of tricksters in any and all forms, I mourned the death of Gabriel and just wanted to write something about him. After that, this just came to me.

Gabriel ruefully swept his gaze over the comparatively opulent dwelling-not a palace, certainly, but better than most places he'd been. Shame he couldn't get more enjoyment out of it but the time for that was over. He'd had his share of what he wanted, even if it had had the motif of a 70s sitcom. It was funny that one of the things that had attracted him to the humans was their sense of aesthetics and yet he had spent the last three decades in the narrowest one he could find. What's three decades when you'll live forever?

The ersatz trickster lay back on the bed, preparing himself. He was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of how big it was. He placed his hand experimentally against a pillow and noticed how insignificant it looked. Three millennia and he had never realized that his vessel was small. He, so interested in flesh, hadn't given a rat's ass what his own avatar looked like, relying on his own personality to fill it. He hadn't noted anything about the man except his loneliness, his outcast status, a kindred pull. It suited him well enough, though. He didn't need a tall, imposing figure like Zachariah's, conveying his power by looming over everyone or a formidable one like Uriel's, strong as a brick wall and twice as surly. Small was good for hiding, for running away.

He screwed his eyes shut in concentration, willing an image to his mind. Pretty girl, features not complex, but pleasing. Mid-western featured Nike-ad kind of girl. The face and figure of one who he'd seen in a magazine a few weeks ago and the eyes of another one he'd seen in a bar. He gave dressed her in black (his favorite color) and made sure she tossed her beautiful blond hair at least once. He projected himself into the scene, complete with porn 'stache and the cheesy dialogue that was so graceless it created its own form of poetry. He revealed himself, choosing his words carefully.

"And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my family."

Those Winchesters practically got off on their moral superiority, on knowing they were right and everyone else was wrong. If he wanted them to listen, he'd have to give them this satisfaction; and maybe, just maybe it was a relief to admit it after all these years. After being the end-all, be-all, an autonomous authority, to be held responsible was liberating.

It made him more maudlin, his true identity did.

He finished up with the girl up with the girl because, hey, it was his last time and to give the Winchesters a nice little Easter egg if they watched past the point of necessity. The girl walked into the bathroom and out of existence. Gabriel turned himself towards the "camera" and deadpanned,

"Come on, Luke and Leia. You're my only hope."

He opened his eyes, ending the "movie" and watched as a copy materialized in his hand. He placed it in his inner coat pocket, to be given to an appropriate Winchester when the moment arose. He thought about the elder's last words to him. "It takes one to know one," He said to himself, to the boy, almost petulantly, "from one coward to another." They were all cowards of course, all three of them. Sam couldn't convince his father and brother of his reliability and maturity, despite having proved it, so he left rather than continue to fight. Dean was too afraid to alienate his father or his brother and so, rather than expressing himself, he mediated and plodded along, passive aggressively forcing his way on Sam only in situations where Dean was undeniably in control. And Gabriel, well. He was the embodiment of that old trope about how not making a choice is a choice in and of itself. He knew both sides were wrong; fascism on one, anarchy on the other. Yet he never got between them, never tried to reform the situation, just defected. Sitting on the sidelines and commenting was what he did best, so he made an entire existence out of it. Always telling you what you did wrong but unable to fix a damn thing.

Well, he'd found a way to be a hero and a coward and he was going to take it. He wouldn't have to see the brothers fail, he wouldn't have to see his brothers die, he wouldn't have to see the world end due to his avoidance of a problem that could have been solved millennia ago. He thought of little Castiel and his unwavering faith. It was too late for Gabriel to join that part of the fight now, to redeem himself that fully. He was too far gone. But he could sacrifice himself to the cause, and he could give the brothers the information that they needed. Nobody ever questions the martyr, right? His death could help them more than his active participation ever could. He'd do this now, before he had a chance to back out, before he could allow fear our doubt to enter into it. It was poetic and it was easy. His last defection, signing off.

Don't you know the joker laughs at you?

He tensed himself as he felt his older brother enter the building.

It was time.

Obviously the song lyric is from "I Am the Walrus" by The Beatles