Title: Can't Stay Away From You

Author: OpheliacAngel

Pairings & Characters: Dean/Gabriel, one-sided Sam/Lucifer, Castiel

Genre: Romance/Angst

Rating: Teen

Summary: Dean doesn't know why these things are happening to him, but Sam and Cas are gone and he can't quite remember why, and he wakes in pain most mornings with no cause. His life torn to shreds, one morning he wakes to a table full of food and later on, a resort that far surpasses his expectations and income. When Gabriel reveals himself it's all too obvious, but his intentions aren't clear and Dean can't get him to make them any clearer. More than anything, Dean knows that he should be running, but instead he's falling in more ways than one.

A/N: Written for Gabriel Big Bang.

Soundtrack: Title and lyrics are from Lacuna's Coil 'Virtual Environment.'

Chapter 1: Found

~ I saw you fade

Or was it a dream?

But sooner had I tried to touch you

The love would disappear~

It's almost funny in a way, getting left alone, Sam ditching you for hunting when it was always supposed to be you pushing him, making him go on with the family business alongside you. Cas is busy up in heaven, obviously preoccupied with whatever the hell he's doing and here Dean is, hustling when he feels up to it, doing a hunt here and there, not up for string of hunts, one after the other with no break in between, and of course occasionally calling Bobby on the phone to tell him he's all fine and dandy, to somewhat assure he won't come after him.

He chucks it up to life tearing him down, too many hunts, losing Sam too many times, whatever. Those are the only explanations he can come up with as reasons for him getting sicker. It's on and off really, but some days he can't even make it out of bed, and he knows that it isn't all due to depression.

His limbs are stiff and they ache unrelentingly, making him grit his teeth as he forces himself to lie still on the rock hard mattress, too few pillows cushioning him, nothing to cover up the sunlight streaming in through the window and stinging his eyes. He goes hungry those days, curling up in the fetal position because no one can see him anyway, tears streaming down his face and his throat raw from crying and dehydration. Usually, the next day is better, good enough so he can crawl out of bed and go out to get something to eat, or siphon through the fridge to find something, anything.

Today though... today he doesn't feel the slightest bit better. It's been four days and he's still in pain, exhausted from lack of sleep and cursing himself whenever he tries to move, at one point falling off the bed.

That's when he looks up and sees it.

The table is littered with plates piled high with food. From what Dean can see from his position on the floor, there's a large salad; fries accompanying a hamburger cut up into a dozen small pieces; a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and much more.

He doesn't know how the hell he does it, but he manages to stand up. He was coherent enough for the past few days to know that someone didn't cook those things for him in here, even if there is a small kitchenette in this place; even when he managed to get an hour or two of sleep, he doubts he'd miss someone sneaking in here to pile the table with food. But really, what other explanation is there?

Something not human, it has to be something or someone not human.

He takes his time in walking to the table, his body not wanting to function properly. It's worth the pain though, to see the mouth-watering selection of food splayed out on the table, better looking food than any restaurant. He knows better than to eat it, knows this is all probably some sort of trick to poison him or lower his defenses long enough to do something else. Dean honestly doesn't think his defenses could be lowered any further though.

Dean touches a piece of pepperoni pizza, still in its takeout box, and is amazed to find that it feels real and looks too good not to eat. He swallows and his stomach rumbles, but he finds the note in the middle of the table before he continues to admire the display of food.

Eat some of it. You'll feel better.

~G

"G?"

What the hell could G stand for? Dean racks his brain, coming up with as long a list of names as his mind will allow him to, which isn't much. He finally gives up, he's tired and starving and before he can tell himself no, the pain is forcing him to collapse into one of the soft chairs that most certainly did not come with the room. The hunger pains are becoming increasingly more painful as he continues to sit there, trying and failing not to stare at the food. He outlasts a half hour, but then he just can't not eat anymore. He grabs a piece of pizza out of the box, which has been cut into thirds, as if the person who arranged all of this for him knows he can't stomach much right now. He picks up the small piece and takes a small bite, chewing for a good long while and becoming relieved when he realizes it isn't affecting him.

He doesn't eat much, knowing he should pace himself, but for the next hour he continues to eat, taking small bites and even going for the salad at one point, then washing all the food down with multiple cups of coffee. Little by little, the pain in his stomach and fog in his head abates, and he crawls back to bed when he can physically stand and walk again.

Dean falls asleep quickly, feeling warm and full and at peace.

The sound of water running wakes him up. He sits up and stretches, realizing he's not stiff or in pain today, and quietly though quickly makes his way to the bathroom, even though the sound has dissipated. Before him lies a tantalizing sight: a bathtub filled with water, on which rose petals float upon. Dean snorts, running his fingers through the water, relishing how warm it feels, and this time he doesn't want to listen to the warning signs in his head for a second.

He strips, lowering himself down into the warm, sweet scented water, feeling it sink down deep into his bones and revitalize him. He sighs, happily, lathering his hair with coconut scented shampoo, far too relaxed to worry about what it could be laced with.

Dean doesn't know how long he stays in the tub, long after the water's gone cold, but as soon as he catches sight of a white, downy soft bathrobe that was most definitely not there before, he drains the water and steps out, drying himself quickly and wrapping the robe around him.

He's so warm and relaxed and thrilled that the pain has decided to leave him alone today, that the second he steps out of the bathroom he doesn't see it. Doesn't see him.

"Feeling better, Deano?"

He looks over, catching sight of Gabriel standing by the table now laden with a wide array of new food, breakfast food primarily such as eggs, Belgian waffles, French toast and chocolate chip bagels.

But Dean can't focus on the food right now, even if his stomach is rumbling in anticipation again. Instead, his eyes narrow. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Gabriel rolls his eyes and looks disappointed, "You really should be down on your knees and thanking me right now. After all I've done for you."

All I've done for you? Dean thinks about that, and he doesn't take him long to figure out what he should have been smart enough to realize last night: the G on that piece of paper stood for Gabriel. It's been Gabriel who's been fixing him food and starting up a bath for him and making sure the incredibly soft robe he's now wearing was in the room when he was ready to come out here. Shit, he better not have been spying on me when I was in there. Dean swallows, pulling the robe tighter around himself, suddenly feeling cold. He takes a moment to clear his head, briefly realizing that Gabriel, upon noticing his movements, chose to adjust the temperature in the room.

There's no way in hell he's gonna show weakness in front of him.

"You really expected that? Cause I gotta say, Gabriel, that's pretty damn pathetic, for anyone really."

Gabriel shrugs, "Well, I certainly enjoyed the image in my head while it lasted." He pulls out one of the two chairs at the table after that, and Dean wants to ask who the second one is for, but then he really doesn't want to hear the answer to that question from Gabriel. "Come on and sit down, have some breakfast."

Dean's eyes narrow again in suspicion, "Why? You decide to poison me this time?"

The archangel's hand flies to his heart in shock and outrage, "Why, Dean! Why would I ever want to poison you?"

"Because it'd probably make your freaking day," Dean growls, sitting down in the other chair instead, pausing for a moment to wonder whether he should just get up and leave, openly reject what Gabriel's given him, if it isn't because of the fact that he's hungry again and really has nothing else better to do. He typically naps on and off on his good days, sometimes cracks open a book and reads until he gets a headache, or tries to bake pie, though usually that backfires. This is pretty nice, having someone cook for him, help him when he's too weak to do it himself. So he shrugs off all his anger and suspicion and starts piling his plate with eggs and toast and one of those waffles; when his plate is full he looks up to see Gabriel sitting down across from him, smiling, his eyes lighting up in glee. "What?"

"Nothing." Gabriel doesn't make a plate for himself, he doesn't need to eat anyway. But it's creepy to have someone watch Dean eat without partaking in the meal itself. "Just happy that you seem to be enjoying my food."

"You cook this?" Dean asks, screwing manners and talking with his mouth full of egg and Gabriel nods.

"I'm a helluva fine cook, ain't I?" Dean grunts at that, shoving bite after bite of food in his mouth, not stopping until he feels like he may actually explode. His appetite seems to be back after a few miserable weeks and it's voracious. He can't help but moan at the taste of the bacon as he finishes off his meal with eating a few pieces. He doesn't want to give Gabriel the satisfaction, but it's literally the best he's ever had and he feels so much better now after he's eaten and cleaned himself up, with a little, okay, a lot of help from Gabriel.

"How was your bath...?"

And then suddenly all that embarrassment he was so sure he had sufficiently hidden comes flying up to the surface again. He swallows down his last bite, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair, watching the archangel closely. "If I find out you were spying on me, I'm gonna gank your ass."

Gabriel holds up his hands in surrender, "Relax, I was busy getting all this food together while you were in there. I didn't see anything."

"Good." They sit in silence then for a few minutes, watching each other, Dean trying to read Gabriel to gain any sort of clue he can. He wants to crawl off to bed again because he's suddenly tired, but not in the prospect of Gabriel watching his every move while asleep, like he is now. He doubts Gabriel would try to do anything to him after he went to all this trouble, but Dean would definitely prefer to be awake and on guard at this point. "How long you been topside?"

Gabriel crosses his arms, "Bout a week."

There's an even longer silence after that and Dean is the one to finally break. "That all you're gonna share with me?"

"That's all you need to know, kiddo."

"Sure," he snaps back, getting pretty fed up with Gabriel already, "keep me out of the loop so you can find some way to get rid of me permanently, right? Less I know, the easier it'll be to trick me, or do whatever the hell it is you came here to do."

"However the hell you get these notions in your head, I honestly don't know."

Course he doesn't, he's just trying to break me down piece by piece. Don't fall for it, don't you dare fall for it. "Really, Gabriel, don't think I'm mad or anything. It's to be expected, what with you alive and kicking."

"Tell me then, Dean," and instead of a smug look on the archangel's face there's something else, some bitterness and disappointment that Dean suspects must be part of the trick. He's gonna take this far then, wouldn't expect anything less. "Why am I doing all of this for you if I'm just gonna end up killing you down the road?"

Dean shrugs, "You tell me." He stands up quickly, the chair he shoves back loudly scraping against the tile. He doesn't care, doesn't care what Gabriel's here for, he merely starts loading his hands with dishes, wanting to give himself something to do, anything to do but have Gabriel stare him down until Dean admits that he wants to thank him, for the food, for everything else, that he doesn't think he's going to kill him since the last time he was alive he was saving his life. This isn't him though, the real Dean is suspicious and always suspects the worst, the real Dean can't say thanks or show any other form of embarrassment.

The real Dean can't admit that he's happy to see Gabriel alive.

It's probably good anyway, since Gabriel might turn his own words against him.

Dean blinks and suddenly the plates are gone, and he looks at Gabriel and growls as he says, "Needn't worry about that. I can take care of it."

"Just...," Dean grits his teeth.

"Just what, Dean? Just leave?" Gabriel stares him down, a look of menace in his eyes, "Fine," and with that he's gone, as if he was never there at all, the dishes back on the table again as if he just gave in to him, gave him what he wanted.

He goes into the kitchen and starts cleaning off the plates, but no matter how much he scrubs and rinses, he can't clear his head. He can't stop thinking about Gabriel and why the hell he's even here, doing things for him. It doesn't make any sense other than that he would be using it against him, and Dean can't stop thinking about that, he can't stop thinking about how wrong it feels, can't stop feeling like he should trust Gabriel. Or maybe it's just that he wants to trust him.

That's probably it, after all.

Gabriel doesn't stop by for another few days, though there's always food on the table when he wakes up, whether it be for breakfast, lunch, dinner or a midnight or rather three in the morning snack. The archangel always seems to know when he's hungry and always seems to know what he wants, whether it be an omelet for dinner or a steak for breakfast. There's a bath prepared for him at least once a day, sometimes more if he thinks it and therefore wants it, and after a day or two he stops trying to convince himself to reject these gifts because he wants them.

He wants to know that Gabriel has his back, no matter how selfish that sounds.

Because Sam is gone and Dean can't quite remember why, but every time he thinks of him his mind shifts to something else. Sam is gone and he doesn't come by and he doesn't call or write and maybe it's just Stanford all over again. Not like Dean did anything then. Castiel's gone too, too busy with his brand freaking new status in heaven and he probably doesn't even remember Dean exists at this marvelous point in his career, with how Dean's heard nothing since Cas left. He hasn't seen his brother or his guardian angel in a month and a half, and he's running out of money and so goddamn exhausted and he just wants someone, someone out there, and he's caring less and less that it's actually Gabriel, someone out there to at least notice that he exists and try to make his life as little torturous as possible.

Dean already figures he's pretty much losing what little sanity he has left at this point.

By the fourth night he can already feel the stiffness setting into his limbs again, and it provides him with an agonizingly restless night of sleep. He wants to get up and pace around or at least do something, but he doesn't, afraid he'll aggravate the muscles further and increase the pain. When the morning comes it tapers off, like it typically does, but Dean knows better.

All it is is the calm before the storm, the brief moment of reprieve before death's hands come reaching for you and you fight against them, your body wracked by the pain of holding onto life, mind hazy as your senses forsake you, as your thoughts no longer feel like your own anymore.

Through the haze that greets him during early afternoon, he can just about make out that Gabriel has decided to grace him with his presence.

It's even worse because he has his guards down.

He can't move, not without spine-searing pain shooting through him, that is, so he's practically rendered helpless as Gabriel walks right up to him and pulls the threadbare sheet up over him, fingers lightly brushing against his back and Dean tenses, pain forcing him to black out for a moment. He wakes up still on his stomach, comfortable in his usual nighttime position but uncomfortable because he can't move his legs or arms to position them better.

Dean knows that's the least of his worries.

Gabriel pulls the comforter up over him next, neglecting to touch him this time, for which Dean is relieved for. "What are you doing?" He manages to grit out, proud of himself for at least that but it's not nearly enough.

Gabriel shrugs nonchalantly, eyes avoiding Dean. He then walks away and drops down heavily into a chair, flipping the TV on. "You seemed cold."

Hours seem to go by after that; Gabriel watches TV and Dean listens to the quiet lull of laugher and voices, not able to see the screen too well because his eyesight isn't cooperating. The sounds help to bring him out of his mind a little, enough to relatively calm him down.

"You can sleep, ya know. Just came by here to watch the tube, not much else."

"Says you," he retorts. No matter how much he wants to back up that statement though, exhaustion overcomes him and his eyes droop, and he thinks he might hold out for ten more minutes before he lets unconsciousness claim him.

Gabriel's moving around in the kitchen when he wakes up. The numbers on the clock read four a.m. and Dean Winchester sighs softly, the room gone quiet other than the faint sound of water running and cupboards closing in the kitchen.

He feels numb and he closes his eyes for a minute, just a brief second or two, but when he opens them again Gabriel is hovering in front of him and Dean almost jumps. He holds himself in place, knowing the pain will come back and render him even more helpless if he thinks he can honestly fight back and stupidly attempt it. Gabriel holds up his hands again, as if that sign of surrender means anything to Dean, but it still causes him to calm down a fraction of an inch.

"You want anything to eat before I go?"

Dean works to clear his head, even Gabriel's whisper bringing on a migraine for a fraction of a second. He wracks his brain to decipher the sentence, trying to determine if he's hungry, the last time he's eaten, why the hell Gabriel is asking him these things. He shakes his head slightly, not knowing what else to do, feeling like he should be alone and not keep the archangel here longer than necessary.

He still seems to take pity on him though, and the only reason why Dean is saying that and mulling it over hours later, when he can actually think again, is because the archangel's face is filled with nothing but pity. It's probably fake though, it has to be fake.

"I left some stuff in the fridge, so you can just heat it up later if you get hungry. Anyway," he moves away from Dean, turning the TV back on as if he knows it soothes Dean far better than the dead silence in the room does. "Call me if you need me."

Call him?

Dean sinks back down into blessed sleep again before he can figure out what those words mean and watch Gabriel disappear.

True enough, there's enough food in the fridge to last a week if Dean wanted it to. Unfortunately, he hates to admit it, Gabriel's cooking skills are so good that it's all gone in a matter of two days time.

If there's any way to stay a step ahead of Gabriel, this is definitely not it.

Okay fine, he was famished enough to eat anything and everything in sight. But now, now he's gonna try to piece together all of the moments he's been with Gabriel, all of the suspicious words and stares, not to mention Gabriel's sudden obsession to touch him, probably thinking he's doing a discreet enough job at it. There must be something he can find, some reason that Gabriel's here. He just has to be careful because if the archangel suspects anything, he's screwed.

He starts by going out and buying a laptop; Sam took theirs when he ditched him and Dean finished with hunts a few weeks back, so he didn't figure he would need one. As soon as he gets it inside, scanning the room for Gabriel but only finding another table full of food in his place, Dean gets down to business, surfing the web for any explanations to his illness, reading up extensively on his symptoms. After a while, finding next to nothing, he gives up for the night.

Dean rubs his eyes tiredly, close to falling asleep at the table and he must drift off for a moment, because one minute it's quiet and the next the water's running in the bathroom. Dean sighs, shutting the computer down, crawling into the bathroom slowly, getting weirded out a little when the knob turns off to stop the water. He thinks about the chances of Gabriel being able to see him right now, the extent of his power, if he can multitask or if he's just getting off on watching Dean strip down slowly and settle himself in the tub.

He blinks a few times, and that's when he finally notices something is different.

It's the bathroom actually, and Dean stares around wide eyed, too shocked to move, at the previous cramped space that seems to have tripled in size, widening the bathtub and giving him more room to walk around in. He shakes his head, "You should have been an architect." He says it sarcastically, but he knows he's probably flattering Gabriel right now if he can hear him, and he probably can since he offered that Dean could call him at anytime, for anything.

It's pretty freaking creepy to know you have an archangel watching over you, still, Dean wonders if he'll ever get used to it and learn to actually appreciate it. If Gabriel manages not to get killed again, that is, or if Dean doesn't come up with a halfway decent reason to kill the archangel himself.

The bathroom looks great though, Dean supposes the word for it would be lavish or luxury; he's deeply surprised it slipped his attention before. He's really got to get with the picture.

He can hear Gabriel outside the bathroom and really, he's more than thrilled that he didn't just show up out of the blue in the bathroom. Still, Dean grabs the towel and pulls it close in case he has to make a run for it. "Hoped you would like it, Deano," and he can pretty much see him smile when he says that, even though the door is closed.

"Why did you redesign it anyway?" It's certainly not like he's staying here. I'd rather kill Gabriel than let him stay here.

"Cause you have terrible taste. Honestly, sweetheart, I can't believe you can stay in places like this. The least I can do is fix it up a little."

"Don't call me that!" Dean snaps at first, hating the pet name, but he suddenly has a strange feeling that the bathroom isn't the only place Gabriel has desired to fix up. "What did you do anyway?" Probably turned the place into a five star hotel, knowing him.

"Give you something more worth your money," Gabriel simply states.

"That's the whole point, Gabriel. I don't have any money." He probably has enough for another two nights, at the most, looks like he's gonna have to go back to hustling again. Hopefully there won't be any interruptions this time. "If you want to do something nice, just give me money. Seriously, man."

"No can do, Deano."

He gets out of the tub again, wrapping himself in the bathrobe once more and turning around to shut off the water to see the knob turn again to do it for him. "Would you quit doing that?" He's almost afraid to touch the door handle in case that decides to open for him too, really, it's not like he's disabled or lost the use of his hands. Okay, so maybe the former, just a little though, and only on his bad days.

Gabriel laughs, letting Dean open the door for himself. "You need to be pampered every once in a while. Just relax." Yeah, Dean thinks, like I can freaking relax around you. He loses his train of thought as Gabriel leads him away from the bathroom.

Screw five star hotel, this is like a six.

"What the hell did you do?" Gabriel comes up beside him, leaning against the wall, and he knows Gabriel is watching him intently though with amusement out of the corner of his eye, but really, he couldn't tear his eyes away from this if he wanted to. The entire room has been expanded so that it seems more like a house than a piece of shit motel room. There's chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, a California king bed taking up only a little space in the massive bedroom that now features a door, and a kitchen that seems big enough to house ten people.

He walks forward and takes in the living room next, the plasma TV and bookshelves stuffed with books and a matching leather couch and chair that seems so comfortable he could probably sink down into it and never find a decent reason to leave. The kitchen table has now been placed in an extravagant dining room, expanded so that now it holds three times the amount of food that it did before. There's everything on that table, things Dean doesn't even know the names of and not to mention, all of his favorite foods.

He gasps, unable to hold it inside because he really doesn't want to give Gabriel the satisfaction, and he backs up against the nearest wall, eyes not knowing what they should focus on, feet not knowing where they want to go.

"Why?" He stutters, "Why would you...?"

"Can't have you dying in a flea-ridden motel now, can I?" And he doesn't even register the dying part at first, probably because it's been in his mind all along and having an archangel know that's the case is nothing really. He's seen places this big before, but never blending comfort and extravagance so perfectly as this does. Gabriel adds, "Oh, and I've covered the bill for the next couple of months."

Dean almost wants to cry, at how beautiful this all is, almost wants to hug Gabriel, being the only one to ever give him something this nice.

The next moment his eyes lead him to Gabriel again though, he's already gone.

After a while, Dean's need for fresh air and to walk around, because walking around his huge room doesn't count in his opinion, finally wins out his fear of actually leaving. Really, he should be more afraid of remaining in Gabriel's creation, but something about that room feels safe and homey, not threatening in the slightest. He really doesn't want to know what the archangel's done with the rest of the hotel, that's probably it.

Well, here goes nothing...

Dean opens the door to find in dismay that he's not outside, which means now it's gonna take him longer to find fresh air. He sighs, shutting and placing the do not disturb sign on his door, like it would probably even matter in this place. He listens for a moment as he walks, finally heading in the direction in the familiar ding he hears: an elevator. He steps inside, taking a moment to make note of how many floors there are after he presses the button that reads L. There are sixteen floors in total, causing the Winchester to shiver a little. Gabriel certainly goes overboard, not that he should have expected anything less.

The elevator dings again and he doesn't make it out until the doors are nearly closing on him. He doesn't know what to expect, doesn't want to think about it. As far as he's concerned, there could be anything down here: a torture chamber, lavishly decked out lobby or even a cliff with a million foot drop that if he dares to leave the safety of the elevator, he'll fall prey to. He keeps an eye out for large holes and sharp metal instruments, but as his eyes actually hone in on what this floor contains, he discovers it resembles the middle assumption.

Lavishly decked out lobby? Yep.

Except, that's sort of an understatement.

Dean's mouth drops open much to his dismay, knowing that Gabriel's probably watching him right now and taking great satisfaction in his shock and as a result, his guards dropping one by one. The lobby's so huge he can't even see the end of it. There's a check in desk on one side, five or so doors beyond that; what looks to be at vast library on another end and an even bigger kitchen on the other, and the last two possible directions he can't make out other than than they're probably long hallways that Gabriel probably expects him to wander down, hoping to trick him whenever possible.

Dean Winchester's not falling for that shit.

There's chandeliers everywhere the eye can see, gold fixtures accompanying the pale gold of the walls and a certain feel that screams royalty. Dean doesn't even have the room in his head to be suspicious, or convince himself that he still doesn't trust Gabriel, even though that's kind of stupid, what with everything he's done for him lately. He should be finding a gun and shooting his way out of here, since his own became suspiciously misplaced. He could get in his baby and drive off right now, screw Gabriel's orders the other day of telling him to stay put, just to see if he would stop him.

Dean's not taking a step towards the door though...

He walks up to the check in desk, cursing himself silently, expecting to see an angel or a demon but becoming even more shocked to realize it's a human. Probably doing Gabriel's bidding unwillingly but still, he looks to be pretty... normal.

"Hi," Dean smiles in greeting, looking at the what seems to be twenty-year old up and down carefully.

"Hello," he's warmly greeted back with a wide smile and attention firmly on him, instead of the computer he was only just fixated and typing rigorously on. "I trust everything about your stay here is to your approval?"

"Sure, yeah," he says and the concierge smiles wider.

"Fantastic, then is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Winchester?" He's a little too enthusiastic and seemingly thrilled to be at his service, but other than that he seems nothing more or less than normal. And just because he's never stayed in a hotel like this before doesn't mean the lobby isn't normal for nice hotels either. He sighs softly, thumb rubbing absently against his forehead, feeling a headache coming.

"Is... uh... Gabriel around?"

"I'm afraid not, he had some business to attend to. He instructed me to make sure you have everything you need, and that you're free to explore the resort as you see fit. However, he told me to inform you that you are not allowed to leave. If you require some fresh air, you are more than welcome to go out by the pool." The more the kid keeps on talking, the less real it all seems, and chances are that he isn't a real person at all, but a freaking robot Gabriel conjured up to try to keep him here. "Also," he continues, "it is my responsibility to give him hourly updates, so if there is anything you need to say to him, you may say it to me."

Yeah, Dean thinks, I bet he did.

He can't even imagine how the guy got all that out without even drawing a decent breath, and Dean's still waiting for him to look away, to go back to meticulously typing on his computer or for another guest to wander in and demand his attention. Gabriel's orders must be exact and solid though, so Dean merely shakes his head and walks off in a random direction. He could have asked the guy where the pool was, but he was kinda creeping him out, especially when he turned around to find out he was still watching him.

Dean quickly disappears down one of those hallways he told himself he wouldn't venture into. Anything to get away from that guy. He walks hurriedly until he remembers to slow down and take heed of his surroundings, in case he should ever need to escape within a moment's notice. The windows around him are all blacked out so that he can't see what's beyond the doors, something which unnerves and freaks him out further.

"Gabriel," he dares to breathe out, wondering if he'll choose to pop up behind Dean or as he's rounding a corner, or if he just won't show up at all. He should just be happy that his head is clear and he's feeling loads better, but Gabriel's palace is ramping up his nerves piece by piece, and he would go back to his room if he didn't think he would go insane with a lack of fresh air, the walls closing in on him, matching Gabriel's potential intent to choke him and deplete his sanity.

He opens the door, and it just so happens to feature a hallway that Dean can see leads out to a pool. He nearly sags against the wall in relief, glancing around to make sure no one is following him and then moments later breathing in the fresh air, his entire body seeming to immerse itself into relaxation. He sags into a beach chair, staring into the calm blue water.

"Thank you, Gabriel."

It's out of his mouth before he realizes that he shouldn't have said it.

It takes a while before he finally trudges back to his room, looking forward for something to eat and a nap. The pain nearly doubles him over as he steps out of the elevator and onto his floor, unexpected and all too unwelcome.

Gabriel always manages to stop by when he feels like total shit.

It would maybe be fine if Dean trusts him, but as long as Dean has known Gabriel he has never trusted him and has always expected the worst, and Gabriel's actions and antics were the things that had the Winchester boy convinced that the archangel wasn't capable of anything good. That his only intention, if not to kill him, would be to get him to do something he doesn't want to do, to trick, humiliate or aggravate him. This is the perfect chance for the archangel too, considering any wrong move would probably leave Dean with nothing less than a total breakdown.

He'll take what Gabriel's giving him now though, take it and enjoy it while it lasts.

For all he knows, he could be the one causing the pain, trying to get Dean to break down his barriers, seduce him with these extravagant things and this extravagant place and then rip the rug out from under him, leaving Dean forever changed and probably not for the better.

When Gabriel finds him this time, he's at the end of his rope.

He can feel it.

"See you ate all the food in the fridge already. Guess you really do like my cooking..." Gabriel walks up to him and then stops in his tracks, crouching down a second afterward to watch Dean intently. "What's wrong, sweetie?" And Dean hates that, hates Gabriel if he's really doing this to him, leaving him a sobbing, shaking mess in the bed, unable to move, unable to defend himself. It takes all of his effort to breathe and see through the red haze of hating Gabriel, let alone search for the knife under his pillow, which probably isn't even there anymore.

What Gabriel does next though truly shocks him. And it should be irritating but instead, Dean finds it soothing.

Gabriel's fingers reach upwards slowly and run through his hair, petting him, a finger occasionally brushing against his forehead. Everything about the gentle motion is predictable and it stills Dean, the hatred and fear filtering from his mind and the comfort of having Gabriel there wash throughout his entire body.

Dean doesn't know how long this lasts. Minutes? Hours? The only thing he knows is that he doesn't want it to stop. If he can just have this moment forever, it would be enough. It would be fine if he were to just die now, Gabriel telling him in his own way that he's not alone, doesn't have to be alone.

What the hell is going on with him?

Gabriel finally stops, drawing his hand away and standing up. Dean nearly protests at the loss.

"You need anything at all, just let me know."

Dean looks up at him, not daring to move, sweat pouring down his face and pooling in the pillow beneath him, running down his shirt. He swallows, eyes closing, giving up the fight, letting Gabriel do whatever the hell he wants to him and praying that he'll make it quick because he can't take this anymore.

"You can scream or cry or whatever, I won't hold it against you. Pinky promise."

He can feel death reaching for him again, the pain taking him over again, giving Gabriel the chance he needs, taking Dean as soon as he falls asleep, whisking him away when all his guards are completely down. Considering he's shaking like a leaf at this point, as weak as a kitten, he figures he won't even be able to keep a tight enough grip on the knife that should be under his pillow, let alone wield it against Gabriel.

"Just do it," he mumbles, throat raw and closing up, tears of pain streaming from his eyes as he finally lets them close.

Whatever Gabriel ends up doing, he never does find out.