I suppose the first thing you need to know about me is that I am a survivor. I have survived the years, the hardships, I do not die, I falter, and I keep living.

Even when I don't want to, even when all I want is to curl up in my grave as a blanket of dirt is drop over me, and die. I tried to once, and I stayed, buried under ground, pretending I was dead, even the worms knew better. Actually that's how I ended up here, I was lying in that grave, I was crying when I heard the solid thunk of a shovel hitting the soil above me, thunk, after thunk, getting closer and closer. I heard voices, two of them, male, and for a moment I panicked, which is hard to do when your limbs are trapped in the dirt, grave robbers? On my grave?

But I'm not dead.

But what can I do?

Nothing.

Just wait, just lay here, pretend I'm dead, pretend I'm not alive, still here, still thinking, with all these memories swirling around in my mind. Stuck in this prison, stuck in my body, my mind, waiting.

And suddenly a shovel plows straight into my arm, and I scream as it breaks, the shovel pulls out immediately, and I shudder as hands dig out my arm, my shoulder, me, and I blink in the moon light, I wince at the harsh, alarmed, questioning voices. I cough out dirt, sneeze a few times, and rub my eyes, rub the dirt off my face.

Someone passes me a rag, "Thank you." I croak, it hurts to speak, and I sound strange, so strange. I haven't heard my own voice in so long.

And I shake myself, wiping dirt off with the rag, which is filthy, a hand settles on my broken arm.

It's a big hand, and I glance at it, my eyes adjusting as I let my gaze trail up the arm the hand is attached to, and look at the owner of the hand. He's tall, longish brown hair, a worried, concerned face as he stares at me. "My arm is fine." I inform him.

His eyebrows go up in doubt, "But I broke your arm with a shovel."

Another man, short hair, green eyes, snorts. "Clearly the thing's supernatural. Look at that hair, it's crazy long."

The concerned one frowns at him, "That doesn't mean we have to be dicks. I'm going to pull you out now. Okay?"

"No." I push at his hands, "I'd prefer to be reburied."

"You heard the weirdo." Green eye growls, marching over. "He wants to be left alone."

But the concerned one ignores us and wraps his arms around my chest and pulls, and I gasp at his warmth, the feeling of arms around me, instead of cold, hard dirt is… One I had forgotten. "Are you okay?" The concerned one asks, picking me up like a child, he's huge.

"Oh, ah, yes."

"Okay, now I have to cut your hair, because it's still coming out of the dirt,"And with a little sawing sensation my heads light as a cloud.

"I'm Sam." He tells me with a smile, and and he's walking and I want to ask where we are going but I do have manners.

"Gabriel."

"Well Gabriel, I'm going to put you down, I'm going to get our stuff, and I want you to just wait here. Okay?" And he's so friendly, so nice, I find myself nodding at I watch him talk.

I watch him walk back over to my grave, and then I notice my headstone is… Covered in ivy, I remember picking it out, mockingly choosing a weeping angel. Sam and green eyes come back with some shovels, bags, throw them in the black metal thing I rest against. I watch in amusement as they open parts, put things in, and shut them.

Sam opens a door of black metal, picks me up carefully, and settles me on a seat, and it's a soft seat. A strange one. "Just sit tight, okay?" He pats my head, the green eye mumbles about dirt getting all over his baby.

I didn't realize this thing was alive, and I look at the metal, and leather, I see no soul, no life. But then green eyes slips in front, and this black metal roars to life, a low, steady thrum, and Sam sits down as well, and we are moving, and as we move, leaving the cemetery, I realize something. I have been here for so long, it no longer looks right, like I remember it. I've been in the dirt for so long, I crack my back, holding my bone straight as it heals back together with a snap. I sigh, looking at the lights on poles, the perfect roads, the strange buildings, so perfect, so uniform.

It doesn't feel right, so well planned.

Unnatural.

I sigh again, things change so quickly, I use to be a part of this, I was happy, thrilled, to be a part of this world, but now, I'd prefer to be dead.

I clear my throat, "Are we going to find a new grave for me?"

Green eyes shakes his head, glancing back at me, "God you're weird, why were you buried in there? Some sort of fetish?"

"Fetish?" I laugh a little, "No, I want to be dead, that's as close as I can get."

"Oh." Green eyes grunts. "Huh, well, um, Sam told me you're called Gabriel, right? Well, I'm Dean. So, what are you?" Dean looks at me in one of the mirrors, while Sam simply turns around, staring at me openly.

And for a moment I consider telling them, I consider telling them everything, Michael, Lucifer, my Father. How centuries had broken me down until playing at God wasn't enough, how I would sit down, and sit there for days because what was I getting up for? What was there?

Nothing, there was nothing, and I just stopped. I was done, and sleeping in that grave, sleeping like death had taken me. "Um, well, I'm…" I glance out the window. "I'm nothing really. What are you?"

"Hunters." Sam informs me. Gently. "Maybe… We should talk about this in the morning?"

"Morning?" I whisper, his eyes seem brown, with amber, and green, they're interesting, I imagine they're the kind of eyes that change color in different lighting.

"Yeah, we have a motel room, hey, how's your arm?"

I smile, "It's fine, don't worry about me. I heal, I always survive. Injuries are the least of my concern."

Sam nods, and suddenly Dean pipes up."So what, you got survivor's guilt?"

"No?" I have never heard such a term, but it makes sense. "I'm just done."

"God, you're depressing." Dean fumbles with something and sounds fill the metal contraption, music I figure. I sort of like it.

Sam says something that sounds like a scold, but it's not my concern, I just relax into my seat, and fall a sleep, it took so long for me to figure that out.

Sleeping.

I wasn't made to sleep.

^0^

"Gabriel?" Someone's shaking me, with a panicked tone that keeps saying my name, asking me to wake up, and I don't really want to, I want to lie here. My eyes shut, my breathing slow, my limbs loose, my mind numb and empty.

But they're persistent, so I 'wake' up, "Sam?"

"God, you scared me." Sam press a hand up along the side of my face, tilting my head to the side as he looks into my eyes. "He looks fine Dean."

Dean comes over, "Huh, I thought you were dead." He shrugs. "Lucky you woke up, I was going to burn your body."

I smirk bitterly. "You wouldn't be the first."

Dean just blinks, and marches off, muttering about psychos.

Sam pulls me off my seat, helping me stand. "You're really okay?" And I realize how big he is, or maybe it's that I'm small.

"I am." And I let him help me into this building, this Motel 6. Up some stairs, and into a room.

"Hey, Dean, how about you call Cas?"

Dean opens the white, humming box, and pulls out a brown glass bottle. "Sure, go clean up."

And Sam just grins and pulls me into a small room, it's a strange, and very different now, and it's a sharp reminder of how much time I spent in that grave. I glance at Sam as he shows me the shower, the toilet. "So… What do I do?"

Sam blinks. Then cocks his head to the side. "How long have you been in that grave?" I shrug. "What year was it?"

I sigh, "Well, I know that America was independent."

"Oh." Sam mumbles.

"Mm, there had been a few presidents, ah, John? John T-Ty?"

"John Tyler?" Sam supplies with disbelief.

I shrug. "Politics weren't very interesting to me."

"Uh huh." Sam nods, "Well, this is shampoo, soap for your hair, so you scrub it in you hair and wash it out, and this is a bar of soap, you'll rub this against yourself to get off the dirt. Don't let either get in your eyes, it'll burn. Water comes out of this thing here." Sam taps said thing, which I'm not even going to try and describe. "And this adjust water, turn it here for cold and here for hot. Questions?"

"Ah… No?"

Sam grins, "Okay, yell if you need anything, I leave you to your business."

And I sigh, fumbling with my clothes, they've pretty much rotted off, but I still have tear off my shirt and pants. And then I get in the shower, and I pull the curtain shut, I figure it's there for a reason.

And then I turn on the water, and squeak at the coldness of the water. I turn the knob until it won't go any farther, and the water starts to heat up, in fact now it burns, so I turn it back a little, and now it's getting cool again, I fool around with it for a bit and in the end just accept the burning hot water.

The shampoo smells nice, and as Sam told me to, I scrub it in my hair, scratching my scalp vigorously, watching the water wash the dirt off me in trails, and down the drain.

Then I grab the bar of soap, and rub it up and down my arms, and legs, I do my best to get at my back, but I'm fairly certain I missed most of it, so I lather up my stomach well and soap up my genitals.

Then I rinse it off, which turns out to be harder than I thought, water is everywhere and the floor is quite slippery so I just stand there for a bit, I touch my hair, there's still soap apparently, judging by the suds on my finger tips.

So I wash that again. And I turn off the water and stand there for a bit, I'm not certain what to do. So I turn off the water, and get out of the shower, I find a towel hanging on the wall and dry off, wrapping it around my hips, "Sam?" I call. I'm fairly certain it'd be pointless to get back in my old clothes.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes." He opens the door slowly, poking his head in before actually stepping into the room, he hand me a pair of pants. And they are strange, smooth, gray fabric, with wooly insides, and they're huge.

"I'm suppose to wear these?"

"Until we find some clothes for you." Sam shrugs, "Sorry, I know Dean's a little closer to your size than me, but he wasn't big on sharing his clothes."

"It's fine." I work the pants up my legs under the cover of my towel. "So now what?" I hold the waist of the pants up, my feet covered by the long legs of them.

Sam laughs softly, and pushes me down on the thing called a toilet, "First we get you settled, maybe some food?" He murmurs as he rolls up the pants so I can see my feet, he grabs the strings hanging from the waist, and pulls them as tight as he can before tying a knot with the strings. "Just hold still." He mumbles, wetting a cloth at the sink. "You're face looks like a streaky chocolate bar." Sam comments as he wipes my cheeks, I shut my eyes as he wipes off the rest of the dirt. And he's gentle, very gentle, as the warm cloth scrapes against my skin. "There." He whispers after a bit, pulling back.

He tosses the cloth in the sink and pulls me up, I tremble at the warmth of him. I glance at our reflection in the mirror, I'm thinner than I've been in so long, my hair goes past my shoulders, and I can see were he cut it. It's snarly and still full of soap.

"Could you cut it shorter?"

Sam nods, "Sure." He pulls open a draw, grabbing a pair of scissors. "How short?"

I shrug. "Above the shoulders at least."

"Okay." He grabs a basket and sets it behind me before he starts snipping to catch strand after strand, and he cuts it right at my shoulders. I mentally sigh, I look like those terrible paintings and murals humans make of me with this long hair.

Sam sets the scissors down. "We'll go get it cut for real tomorrow, how about you come meet Cas and we eat?"

"Cas?" I murmur as he guides me through the door and I freeze the moment my eyes land on that dark hair, blue eyes, "Castiel?"

Castle looks like he's having a heart attack. "Gabriel?" He whispers, eyes wide. "They said.." He trails off, "Where have you been?"

"In a grave." Dean supplies roughly, "Now, you two know each other?"

"Yes." Castiel nods to emphasize his certainty. "This is Gabriel, he is an Archangel." Sam's hand drops from my shoulder's. I try not to frown.

"What?" Sam gasps.

"Gabriel is an Archangel, he…"

"I ran away." I cross my arms, "I wasn't big on the family war." And I let the bitterness make my voice crack, "I'm going to assume Lucifer's still locked up?"

"Yes." Castiel informs him.

"So why are you on Earth?" I cross my arms, edging closer to Sam.

"The seals are breaking."

Dean grins suddenly, "But seeing as you're not big on the family fight, how about you help us stop your big brother from making a jail break?"

"Yes." I snap, "I'll help."

Dean blinks at my ferocity then breaks into an easy smile. He has want he wants from me, but Sam glances at me, I see him out of the corner of my eyes, he seems concerned. "Great, now let's have pizza." Dean gestures to the table with a flourish.

But Castiel is uninterested. "Why were you in a grave?"

"I wanted to be dead." I mumble. "But suicide is a sin so I did the second best thing."

Castiel settles a hand on my shoulder. "Why?"

"Why?" I snarl, pushing him away, "Because my brothers are suppose to fight, to the death, that's our Father's big glorious plan, and what are Lucifer's crimes?" I laugh. "Having an opinion, free will, right, that's what our Father gives us?" Castiel backs up, wary. "Lucifer was cast out of heaven! He was casted out and hunted for just that! Hah! And you wonder why I want to be dead?" I laugh a little more, "It's a big contradiction Castiel, a lie, our Father is a monster!"

"No." Castiel hisses. "You are overreacting Gabriel, calm yourself."

"Overreacting?!" I let my true voice through a little, just a pinch, "Me?!"

"Yes!"

"I wish I was dead! I wish they were dead, I wish everyone was dead!" I shriek. "Because it'd be over, and we wouldn't be fighting!"

"Gabriel?" Sam walks in between us, and I have to admit, even for a hunter, he had guts.

"What?" I make myself sound calm, it's not him that I'm angry at.

"Can we have pizza?" He squeaks. Dean groans at his lack of social grace. "I don't know!"

"Sure."

Castiel frowns, but sits down at my pointed glare. Dean just grabs a slice and chews on it. Pizza, hmm, I pick up a slice as well, copying him. And we sit there eating, while Castiel glares at me. I eat two pieces before I sigh.

I sigh at a bit, Castiel has no tact. "Oh just say it, you think I'm a coward."

"Yes." He doesn't even hesitate, just that one word, so full of certainty that it hurts me.

Sam and Dean glance at one another. "So?" I hiss. "What if I am?"

"You can not be trusted." Castiel rumbles. And I blink, that's what my little brother thinks?

"I can be trusted,"I hiss, "I'll help keep the seals from breaking, I want to."

Castiel nearly narrows his eyes in thought.

^0^

I know I fell asleep on the couch, I know I did, so I'm trying to remember how I got tangled up with Sam, not that I'm complaining, I like how warm he is, how I can feel the life blood thrumming through him, the rise and fall of each soft breath, I like it.

I like being so close to life, I always have. Sometimes I'd pretend to be human, get a job, live like them. It was hard, but it was distracting. But I would never-No, I would, but I know I didn't sneak into Sam's bed last night.

So, I start to work myself out of his sleepy heavy embrace, and then I notice something, my hand is stuck in his pant's waist.

Hhhhhh, I kick our legs apart, weaseling my way into a sitting position. I lift the elastic band and start to pull my hand out when I notice something, a red handprint seared into his sharp hipbone. My handprint I realize as I line my hand up over it, my Grace tingles at the contact.

"Castiel!" I shriek as I pull my hand away from Sam. "Get your feathered arse out here right now!"

A flutter of wings and the blue eyed bastard stands there, Dean sites up in his bed, gun in hand.

"What?!" He looks around.

"That imbecile!" I point angrily at Castiel, "Bonded me to your brother!" I snarl at Dean's blank look, "He married me to Sam last night!"

"What?!" Dean roars, Sam whips his head back and forth as he sits up.

"Married?" He yawns.

"Yes!"

Dean glares at Castiel. "There had better be a divorce."

Castiel cocks his head to the side. "Divorce is something humans invented, Gabriel may sign your divorce papers, but it does not affect the Bond I have placed between them." Castiel sighs, "I must inform you, I may you and I, Dean, together as well."

Dean pales quickly, "What?" He squeaks.

"I do not trust Gabriel, he ran once, he may again, you and Sam are true vessels." Castiel informs him, sitting down on Dean's bed. "I know you two think you just won't say yes, but…Angels are persuasive." Castiel grimaces, I scoff, "However, a human married to an Angel can not be possessed by another Angel. Lucifer and Michael can not have you."

Sam, who's clearly the calmer of the two, frowns. "What about Adam?"

Castiel smiles. "Michael has always abided by the rules."

"Oh Father, you didn't." I gasp.

Castiel preens, "I did."

Dean glance at him, and then me, "What did he do?"

I purse my mouth, "Ah, I believe my little brother married this 'Adam' to Michael?"

Sam snickers. I like that snicker.

Dean frowns for a bit, but then relaxes. "So… Without True Vessels…. They can't fight?"

Castiel nods. "Yes, and I believe once Michael realizes this, he will truly fight to keep Lucifer sealed, for Lucifer has no such qualms, he only plays by the rules when it convinces him. Michael wouldn't stand for such a thing, especially with his husband in the cross fire."

"Michael is protective of anything he views as his." I add at Dean's doubtful look, honestly Sam just nods along, he gets it, "Even if he doesn't like Adam, our Father says we have to cherish and protect our Mates, so Michael will."

"So…." Sam mumbles, scratching his neck, "We're married?"

"Yes." I manage after a bit, because I thought this part was covered, but all the sudden Sam blushes. I find it adorable. "But ah… You may pursue another relationship, a real one, I mean-"

Sam smiles nervously. "Well, I'd like to get my husband a bit before I declare our marriage a failure."

And his words tumble over and over again in my mind for a bit until it makes a little sense. "You do?"

"Yeah."

Dean groans in the background.

R and R :)