Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and make no profit off this fanfic.

Pairing: Sabriel

Prompt: Love and Chocolates (submitted by LovelyFangirls)

Additional Prompt: Write a Valentine's Day fic in the horror genre (offered by UnattainableDreams).

Author's Corner: So I've always defined a V-day fic as any fanfic posted around Valentine's Day with love being a heavy theme, so I may not fulfill the additional prompt in the traditional sense (i.e. the story takes place on/around Valentine's day).


Blood and Chocolates

Part 1

Adrian dragged herself into the apartment and tripped on a pair of men's dress shoes left haphazardly in front of the door. Pink pumps and a red woman's coat lay disregarded just a few more steps inside the tiny apartment. Adrian, huffed, recognizing the signs of her roommate Tonya keeping company for the evening. "Thanks, Tonya."

There was a grumble from the living room, and now that Adrian wasn't killing herself trying to get into her own home she was able to detect the faint sound of the news playing on the TV. Curious, she strolled into the living room/dining room/kitchen (the only thing that separated the three sections was a half-wall). The back of the couch hid all of Tonya except for her foot, which hung off the arm of the couch.

"No boy?" Adrian asked, and sauntered into the kitchen. Her stomach was growling with the ferocity of a bear.

There was a groan from Tonya.

Adrian opened one of the cupboards, only to stop when a white box of chocolates caught her eye on the counter. She hadn't had anything sweet in days, and Tonya wouldn't notice a piece missing from it. Adrian lifted the lid.

A dismembered hand lay in the blood-soiled wrappers and melted chocolate.

Adrian screamed.

Tonya moaned and sat up. "What's wrong?"

Adrian scream again.

Blood coated Tonya's mouth like she was the chupacabra.

Caught in between Tonya's teeth were bits of flesh.


Supernatural


Sam cut off the blaring rock music of the Impala as Dean and he drove up to the crime scene. They were already in their suits with their fraudulent FBI badges ready in their pockets. Three police cars were parked against the sidewalk of the apartment building of the most recent murder in Hitching Post, Alabama. The men in uniform lingered near their vehicles as they radioed into the police station and interviewed people that were either connected to the murderer or victim. Dean rolled up behind one the police cars and parked.

Immediately one of the officers noticed their arrival and headed toward the Impala.

Sam reached for his badge while he got out of the car, and held it up for the officer to see. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean do the same.

"FBI," Dean said.

The policeman paused, as if uncertain how to proceed. He was young—he'd probably just finished his training.

"What is the FBI doing here?" An old man—the most senior of the group by the looks of it—stepped forward.

"Recent string of suspicious deaths," Sam explained smoothly. It wasn't even a lie. There had been a man who had butchered his wife one evening, then the next day he couldn't remember ever having done it. That instance alone raised red flags and suspicion of a demon attack, when combined with other stories about rough sex that ended with both partners dying due to blood loss or dehydration, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that something supernatural was afoot. "Information is strictly classified."

"Classified?" The old gent repeated, his gaze narrowing with suspicion at them.

Dean beamed, putting on his best good ole boy smile that half the time ended up making people more distrustful toward him—especially older men with daughters.

The older officer's hand went toward his gun, but didn't pull it out.

Dean would not be deterred though; he tossed out a few friendly jokes, while throwing in a few comments about working for the bureau that seemed to placate the officer enough to believe Dean and Sam were real FBI agents. Although, Sam doubted the man would let Dean anywhere near the women in his family.

"All right, follow me." The man waved Dean and Sam over to the apartment building. The first floor was empty and no one had bothered to turn on the lights. Sam noticed this was the same with all of the floors leading up to the fourth. The fourth floor was chaos with officers and investigation equipment packed into the narrow hallway. Yellow crime scene tape barred entry from the stairwell, but the older man lifted it for Dean and Sam.

"Honestly, I don't know what you two are going to find that we haven't already."

"Just a formal requirement," Sam said to ease the man.

A blond policeman of average height and build bumped into Sam's shoulder roughly—intentionally. Sam turned his head, watching the retreating officer's back, only for the man to stop and turn his head so his golden eyes met Sam's. The man smirked.

Gabriel.

Sam shoved down the tiny thrill that shot through him at seeing the archangel-turned-trickster. He couldn't make a scene that would draw unwanted attention to Gabriel, but he needed to inform Dean of the angel's presence, or suffer an earful later. He elbowed Dean, who was nodding as the leading officer prattled off details about the crime. Dean's eyes slid to Sam, and Sam cocked his head backward. Dean twisted his head just enough so he could see behind him without making it obvious he was doing so.

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean grumbled.

"What was that, sir?" The older officer stopped in front of the couch that was coned off from the rest of the living room.

"Nothing, go on," Dean said.

Sam shifted, putting sliding a hand into his suit pocket. "Do you mind if I look around while you talk? It will make this process go by much faster."

The older man nodded with a frown. "Just don't mess with anything."

It was moments like this when Sam pitied federal agents. The men and women spent years training, and then small town officers like these acted like they had no idea how to behave at a crime scene. With an acknowledging nod, Sam wandered off and examined the apartment, trying to keep his mind on the case and not the trickster who had decided to make an appearance.

After the Elysian Fields incident, Sam and Dean had no idea what had happened to Gabriel. When Gabriel didn't make an appearance during Castiel and Raphael's power struggle, the two had finally assumed he must be dead. It wasn't until some time during their fight with the Leviathans that Sam and Dean bumped into Gabriel again. He was still in hiding and up to his trickster ways, but every now and then he popped in on the Winchesters. He even helped solve a few cases.

Sam crouched and looked under the bed of the murderer's bed to see if there was a hex bag or sulfur underneath, but couldn't find anything. Sam frowned. So far he hadn't found anything to indicate a demon—his leading theory on what was causing the murders—or witchcraft. He ran through the list of things that go bump in the night in his head. Two other creatures came to mind as possible cause, but one was an extremely low possibility. The unlikely one was the Horseman of Famine, but Sam knew he had killed the horseman, so unless he had somehow been brought back to life, he couldn't be the cause. The more likely creature, albeit still a bit of a stretch, was a rogue cupid. He didn't think cupids had such powers, but so far all of the murderers and victims had some sort of romantic relationship with each other, so he had to take it under consideration.

Sam scoped out the rest of the apartment, but found no evidence to cement any theory.

He rejoined Dean. His brother gave him a quick assessing glance, before he turned his charm back on. "Well, it seems we got what we need for now. If you find something or think of else anything that may pertain to this case, please let us know." Dean pulled out a card with their phone number on it.

The lead officer took it with a nod—his expression was none-too happy about the prospect of calling Dean.

Dean and Sam strolled out of the building, doing their best to maintain their professional pretense as they made there way through the throng of officers and dipped under the yellow tape. They picked up their pace in the stairwell.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

Dean cursed. "And you checked everywhere?"

Sam glared at Dean.

Dean held up a calming hand, silently acknowledging that his question had be asinine; Sam and him had been doing this all their lives. It shouldn't be asked if Sam checked everywhere, because of course he would.

Sam pulled back his annoyance and relented. "Unless someone broke in and pulled up the floorboards. In which case, we got our work cut out for us."

"Don't you two boys always?" Gabriel's friendly voice cut through the air behind them.

Sam and Dean whirled on instinct, but had enough control to not reach for their weapons right away.

Gabriel lounged against the off-yellow walls of the stairwell with one leg propped and bent so his foot rested on the wall. His arms crossed over his chest in what could have been a defensive gesture but instead radiated smugness. His confidence was compounded by his mischievous grin as he enjoyed a sucker.

Sam kept his expression nonchalant, letting Dean take the lead with Gabriel.

"What do you want, Gabriel?" Dean demanded. "You responsible for this?"

"I'm cruel, but I've never been a fan of cannibalism," Gabriel quipped.

"So why are you here?" Sam interjected. Curiosity gnawed at him. Gabriel didn't like playing the hero, so there would have to be a good reason for Gabriel's involvement. Sam doubted it was just for a booty call—Gabriel could fetch Sam in the night if that was what he wanted.

Sam wasn't dating Gabriel. "Friends with benefits" might not even describe his relationship with Gabriel. They didn't spend much time together outside of a few bedroom romps. Heck, he'd even punched Gabriel the first time the archangel made a move on him that was more than friendly. Whatever they were though, it worked for both of them.

Gabriel popped his sucker out of his mouth and beamed. "I was hanging out in a town nearby when I heard some interesting rumors about this place. I knew right away you two would show up."

"Yeah, because there aren't a handful of other hunters out there." Dean scoffed. "So what? You want to hang out with us, or something?"

Gabriel peeled himself off the wall. "Why Dean-o, I thought you'd never ask." He waltzed past Sam and Dean, humming the tune to a soap opera that Sam swore he'd caught Dean watching a few times, although his brother would deny it.

Dean sputtered, giving chase. "No one said you were invited."

"Give it a rest Dean, we could use what help we can get. Unless you got an idea what we're after," Sam raised his voice just to make sure Dean heard him despite the gap that was growing between them as Dean rushed after Gabriel.

"Listen to your brother, Dean. He is the smart one," Gabriel spoke in a sing-song voice.

Dean huffed, catching up to Gabriel. He seized Gabriel by the back of his jacket and yanked him away from the front door of the apartment building. "You can help, but in case you haven't realized, it's going to look weird for Sam and me to show up alone and then leave with a random officer."

The upward, knowing curl of Gabriel's lips was steady as he batted Dean's hand away. "Well, if that is all you're worried about… See you in the car." He snapped his fingers and vanished.

Dean blinked—thrown a little by Gabriel's sudden departure.

"Bet he's hiding in the backseat," Sam said as he walked past Dean and held the door open for his brother.

"I ain't taking that bet." Dean adjusted his tie as he walked past Sam. Gabriel had only magically appeared in the backseat of the Impala a handful of times, but it was enough that it was no surprise to assume the trickster was probably ducked down in the backseat at that very moment.

As Sam sauntered over to the Impala and reached for handle he glanced inside just to check if Gabriel was there. The corner of his mouth quirked up at the sight of Gabriel in his street clothes and curled up in a ball so no one could see him from afar. Sam slid into the car and waited for Dean to peel out from the sidewalk.

They hadn't even made it a block away from the crime scene before Gabriel sat up and slung his arm around Sam's neck. "Hey, Sasquatch, miss me?"

Sam snorted tersely and let his hand come up to rest on the arm around his neck as if to pry it off. "As much as you miss the dentist." Dean didn't know about Sam and Gabriel's relationship, and Sam did not feel the need to inform him. Neither did Gabriel it seemed, although, Gabriel got a kick out of doing little things such as flirt with Sam in front of Dean; it was the thrill of being caught and the sadistic glee he got when Dean's protective streak showed itself.

Gabriel nuzzled his cheek against Sam's. "Aw, Sasquatch, I love it when you act like an ice king. It make it all the more satisfying when I melt that hard exterior away."

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Sam, if you don't punch him, I will."

Sam sighed in exasperation. "You heard him, Gabriel. Don't make me knock your teeth out with a headbutt."

"Just try it." Even as Gabriel challenged him, he slipped his arm away from Sam.

"You got the information on the victims' families, right?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded, and pulled out a stack of papers he had put under his seat. He flipped through the papers as Dean cranked up the volume on the cassette player. "It's not the victim's family, but in this recent case, the murderer had a roommate by the name of Adrian. It looks like she is staying with her grandmother until the investigation is completed."

"So we talk to this Adrian-chick and find out if she saw or noticed anything beforehand? What's the address?"

Gabriel leaned forward so his head jutted over the front seat between Dean and Sam. His head was positioned perfectly, so that Dean couldn't see his hand creep up behind Sam's head and twirl a strand of hair. "I guessing you two haven't heard about the local Samantha."

"Samantha?" Dean repeated.

"Bwitched, Dean-o."

Sam twisted in his seat, but Gabriel maintained the hold on the single strand of hair. "There's a witch here?"

Dean tensed in his seat at just the thought of having to deal with a witch. Sam's stomach knotted in sympathy. Witches were always such pains in the ass and always managed to find sick, and twisted ways to harm people—Sam and Dean included. Sam much rather deal with another overly friendly, naked cupid again than a witch.

Gabriel whistled lowly in disappointment. "You two really don't know how to do your research, do you?" He gave Sam's hair a gentle tug. "The witch is practically famous here—sells love potions to all of the locals."

"Love potions?" Sam echoed. He couldn't help but draw a connection between the potions and the relationships between victims and killers.

"All right, so where is this witch?" Dean asked.

"I believe she is at her shop right now, which is the other way, a left on Rosemary Avenue and it will be on the right hand side of the street."

Sam and Dean shared a look. "That's oddly specific…" Sam trailed off.

Gabriel grinned cheekily. "Hey, it took forever for you two to get here."

"Considering that, as far as we know, you're life span is indefinite as long as no one kills you, I don't think you should be the one to say anything took 'took forever,'" Sam said.

"And did you happen to check out this witch while you were waiting?" Dean pulled into a left hand turn lane to make a U-turn.

"And take away from your work—you're only purpose for living?" Gabriel scoffed. "What kind of heartless fiend do you take me for?"

"More like lazy ass."

Sam cleared his throat to break up the encroaching argument. He plucked the sheet of paper with Adrian's current address printed on the page, and folded it so the crease underlined the house number and street name. He pushed the paper toward Dean. "Here, you check out Adrian. I'll take Gabriel with me to see what I can find out about our local witch."

Dean took the paper but frowned, his forehead wrinkling. "You sure? Witches aren't exactly the best thing to go up against alone. Hell, they suck even with back up."

"That's why I get Gabriel."

Dean eyes narrowed and slid toward Gabriel, who listened in amusement. "Yeah, you sure about that? A witch and his annoying ass?"

"May I remind you that this annoying ass can kill both of you with just a thought?" The words could be perceived as a threat, but due to his mocking tone, Sam picked up that Gabriel was just trying to convince Dean that Sam would be safe.

Dean mumbled something that Sam couldn't catch before he huffed and said, "Fine, but if Sam dies or is horribly maimed, I'm going after you Gabriel."

"I am quaking in my boots." Gabriel mockingly flailed his hands. "The big bad hunter who has never been able to find me unless I allowed it is going to come after me. I think I may just wet myself."

"Not in the Impala you don't," Dean practically growled.

The trip to the witch's shop was short and filled with a constant exchange of quips between Dean and Gabriel. As headache inducing as the bickering between Gabriel and Dean could be, it was also highly entertaining. Their share of a defense mechanism led a plethora of jokes that always contained at least one Sam liked. Also, maybe Sam was just going crazy—it wouldn't be the first time—but he sensed that the stream of barbs and movie references was Gabriel and Dean's way of bonding.

Dean pulled up to a shop with a purple roof and bottle-shaped sign with the words "Little Shop of Potions" in cursive that hung over the glass door. A heart was painted on the top of the door, and through the windows rows of bottles could be seen lining the shelves inside.

"Don't do anything stupid," Dean said as Sam stepped out from the Impala and shut the door. The window was rolled down a few inches so Sam could still hear him.

"Same to you." Sam nodded and stuffed his hand in his pants pocket as he turned and walked a few steps away from the Impala.

"Bye, Daddy!" Gabriel shouted childishly.

The Impala's engine roared as Dean stepped on the gas and peeled away from the shop like Gabriel had threatened to marry him to the devil.

Sam shook his head at Gabriel's antics and headed toward the shop, only to be stopped when two arms wrapped around him and pressed him against a much smaller body. "Finally! I thought he'd never leave."

Sam cast a wary gaze. People were walking up and down the sidewalk, and embarrassment wrapped itself around Sam. He wasn't the most affectionate person in public in general, but with Gabriel he was even more reserved. Having been grown up in macho-attitude environment, it was difficult to be so open about going against the grain, even if he had some experience in that field due to his insistence on going to college—but college wasn't getting oneself involved with an angel.

The arms around his waist tightened and fingers splayed across his abdomen, applying a light amount of pressure to the hard muscle hidden under Sam's suit. "C'mon on, Sam. If you stay like a statue, I am going to climb your back like a monkey and suck on you neck like a vampire." Gabriel's body slid up a few inches against Sam's as he raised himself onto his tiptoes. His breath ghosted the back of Sam's neck. "Of course, there's always your earlobe too. You're a little sensitive there, aren't you?"

A thrill of anticipation shuddered through his body, but Sam extracted himself from Gabriel. He huffed as he let his hand fall to the small of Gabriel's back and pushed him toward the potion stop. "Case first."

"If you can hold out that long." Gabriel grinned wickedly as he wiggled his eyebrows at Sam.

"Your overconfident." Sam held open the shop door for Gabriel, the little bell above it tingling as Sam did so.

Gabriel sauntered into the shop, winking over his shoulder at Sam. "No, I'm just aware of my animal magnetism and sexual prowess. Trust me, you ain't got a chance."

Sam rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment as the overwhelming scent of sandalwood incense assaulted his nostrils. Bottles of every color in the rainbow plus more decorated the walls. A glass case containing faux leather bound books that were intended to look ancient blocked off a portion of one of the walls. A register sat at the corner of it, but there was no one to man it. Sam looked around the room and noticed a square hole cut out of one of the walls. Through it he could see a kitchen like space where a woman in a pink apron hummed as she worked.

Sam reached for his badge in his pocket and cleared his throat.

The woman paused in the middle of grinding a bowl of herbs and looked up. She blinked owlishly at Sam.

Sam held up his badge. "FBI, Miss."

"Lotta Heartwell," Gabriel said as he examined one of the shelves.

It took a moment for Sam to realize Gabriel had just passed on the woman's name to him. He gave Gabriel a thankful nod as the woman grumbled something about giving her a minute.

Gabriel smiled and returned the nod. He picked up a green bottle from the shelf and uncorked it. He sniffed the top of the bottle and frowned then shook his head.

Sam cocked his head to the side in silent inquiry.

Gabriel waved off his curiosity.

The woman's boots pounded on the floorboards as she exited the back room and entered the front of the shop. She dressed as vibrantly as the bottles that filled her shop. "How may I help you two gents today?" She spoke casually, as if they were friendly acquaintances.

"It seems there have been some strange murders taking place around town, and we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time to ask you about the victims and murderers."

The woman pursed her lips slightly in confusion. "What does that have to do with me?"

Sam clasped his hands behind his back and paced the shop a bit, buying himself time to chose his words carefully while simultaneously encouraging the woman's mind to run rampant with all the possible reasons why the FBI would be after her. If he could make her nervous, she might slip up when he interrogated her. "How much do you know about the murders, Ms. Heartwell?"

Lotta shrugged. "Not much. Only rumors."

"Do you know the names of the victims and murderers?"

Her expression turned somber, and Sam had a hard time believing this woman to be a witch. "Yes."

"Do you also know that all of victims and murderers were involved with each other intimately?"

Lotta shrugged again. "Since I am constantly called in to draft love potions for the folks of this town, I know almost every single relationship that is taking place right now, has taken place, or will."

"Will?" Gabriel broke his silence to turn and spare the woman a teasing smile. He plucked another potion off the wall—a blue one.

Lotta nodded. "People tell me their plans, and it's not too difficult to predicate whose feelings are going to be reciprocated and whose is not." Her eyes narrowed and roved over Sam and Gabriel. "You two could work."

Sam sputtered. "Excuse me?"

She waved off Sam's distress. "You already have the small gestures in your favor, and the small gestures are the basis for everything."

Lotta must have seen Sam hold the door open for Gabriel, Sam determined. It was only one small gesture, but if there were thousands of people in the world who thought Dean and Sam were secretly a couple, then was it really surprising that a stranger would take one action out of context and build it up to something meaningful in their head? The answer was obviously a "no."

Keeping that in mind, Sam collected himself and easily regained his calm FBI persona. "Ms. Heartwell, we would like records of those who have recently purchased potions from you."

The friendly visage of Lotta hardened. "I see." Restrained animosity leaked into her voice. "You wouldn't happen to have a warrant for such paperwork?"

Sam hesitated to answer. He didn't have a fake warrant—although, he could probably mock one up in a few hours—but he didn't want to give Lotta an opportunity to run or put a hex on him. "At this time, no, however, we would appreciate your compliance."

Lotta shook her head. "Sorry, no can do. I respect the privacy of my clients. Plus, the way I see it, you haven't got any reason to be asking to see my company's files. Couples turning on each other is not unheard of. Unless you have some sort of evidence tying me to them, I have no reason to be sharing information with you."

"What if I said at least one partner from each couple bought something from your shop?"

Lotta raised a thin eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well then, I would say you are lying through your teeth, because I know everyone who buys my potions, and I can promise you that Edward Heaton would never allow one of my potions near him. Devils magic, he thinks it is."

"Are you saying what you're doing is not devil's magic?" Sam asked challengingly.

"Are you saying you believe in magic Mr. Federal Agent?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't matter what I think. It matters what your costumers do."

"This is a pretty big shop to run by yourself," Gabriel interrupted. "Do you have someone who helps you run it?"

"Just a local boy, David, who cashiers when he isn't working at Danny's Sweet Shop down the road."

Gabriel's face lit up like the sun. "Well, I think we're done here." He wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist. "Come on, Gigantor, we've gotten as much out of her as we're going to for now."

Sam protested, but Gabriel dragged him out of the store like he was a puppy tugging on its leash because it insisted on smelling everything instead of continuing on its walk. Sam huffed once they were outside of the shop. "I had more questions."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Ask them later when you have a warrant. For now, let's check out that kid she mentioned."

Sam yanked his wrist out of Gabriel's hold, begrudgingly accepting Gabriel's suggestion as he followed the angel down the road. He assumed since Gabriel had been in town for a few days and had a thing for sweets, the archangel knew the location for place Lotta had mentioned. "So did you notice anything when you were examining the potions."

Gabriel frowned. "Nothing magical. Just your regular home-remedies kind of crap."

Sam paused in his stroll. "Are you saying she is not a witch?"

"I'm saying she isn't your devil-worshipping, could throw you across the room with the flick of her wrist kind of witch."

"That's… comforting." And troublesome, Sam silently admittedly. If she was just some woman playing "witch" then his lead could very well be a dead end, and once again he would be stuck with trying figure out what was responsible for the murders.

Gabriel's hand slipped onto his back and rubbed the muscles there. "Poor, little Sam."

Sam grunted. "Who are you calling little?"

Gabriel grinned up at him. "When I'm in my true form, trust me, you're little."

Their arms brushed together as they wandered down the street. Occasionally Sam would plaster his side against Gabriel's and vice versa to make room whenever someone walked by. Sam let himself enjoy the little touches, knowing that if Dean were to suddenly barrel down the street in the Impala he wouldn't be subjected to an onslaught of questions.

Gabriel held the door open for Sam as they entered Danny's Sweet Shop. The décor was black and white with the only color accents being a few hanging flowers along the ceiling and the display case full of baked goods and boxes of handmade chocolate. The smell of sugar dominated the air.

Gabriel hurried past Sam to the display case, and just then, a boy in his early twenties or late teens popped out from the bakery with a tray of chocolate éclairs. "How may I help you two, today?" He smiled like a gracious host as he slid the tray of goodies into the display case.

"You wouldn't happen to be David, would you?" Sam asked.

The young man nodded, and a second later Sam produced his FBI badge.

The boy went ridged.

Gabriel chuckled. "Give me one of those éclairs for free and I will keep my buddy from roughing you up, kiddo."

"Gabriel," Sam chastised.

"It's okay." The boy waved off Sam's anger, although he still looked like he was going to scream and runaway at any second. "It's my first time making éclairs, so I really could use a taste-tester."

Gabriel slammed his hands on the display case. "I'm your man, kid."

Sam shook his head, but did not protest when David took out a flimsy sheet of paper and grabbed one of the éclairs for Gabriel. Gabriel didn't even have the éclair in his hand for a second before he stuffed it into his face. He hummed in delight. "Delicious, kid." He winked at David.

David's hand reached up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, but he stopped himself at the last moment. He'd probably remembered at the last moment the possible health violation touching his head could cause.

"We were hoping you could tell us a bit about your boss Lotta Heartwell." From the corner of his eye Sam watched Gabriel enjoy each bite of éclair he took.

David nodded his head vigorously. "What do you want to know?"

Sam inquired into Lotta's relationships with the victims and murderers. He'd expected at least one hostile story, but David was quick to confirm that Lotta had no enemies. There were a few townsfolk who were wary of her, but that was the extent of any negativity toward her, at least, any that was known. "Would you say, her potions work?"

David's face scrunched. "Honestly, it depends who you ask. She says that you can't use the stuff to make someone fall in love with you against their will, so some people just think it is a placebo effect."

Gabriel nodded. "Very possible."

"And what about you?" Sam pressed.

There was flash of emotion in David's eyes that disappeared too quickly for Sam to indentify. "It's real."

"Do you know what she uses in her potions?" Sam asked

"No idea. I'm just a cashier."

Sam asked a few more questions, but remained unsatisfied. He shook his head when Gabriel bought four more éclairs before leaving. He seemed to sense Sam's disapproval because he smirked right before he offered to buy Sam one too, which Sam swiftly declined.

Sam's phone rang as he stepped out of the sweets shop with Gabriel, who was contentedly munching on his second éclair. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Sam recognized Dean's number and answered. "What did you find?"

"Nothing. Girl came home to find a severed hand in the chocolate box, screams, then sees roommate's mouth is covered in blood and has skin sticking between her teeth."

"Did she know if her roommate believed in magic or anything of the sort?"

"Yeah. Girl was a skeptic. Haven't checked out the guy yet."

Sam nodded, despite his displeasure. If the murderer was a skeptic and the boy turned out to be one too, chances were neither one ever bought anything from Lotta, and if one couple wasn't connected to Lotta—even if the rest were—then Lotta's ranking on the suspect list would drop. Technically, it already had, if she really was just a home-remedy kind of witch.

"What about the witch?" Dean asked.

"Hard to say. Seems pretty harmless, according to Gabriel, although her employee certainly thinks her magic is real."

"All right. We'll look into her more. Meet you back at the hotel." Dean hung up.

Sam returned his phone to his pocket. He paused as he pulled his hand away when he caught sight of Gabriel pulling another éclair out of his take out bag. "Are you eating another one already? What is that? Three?"

"Four." Bits of éclair spewed out of Gabriel's mouth as he talked.

Sam grimaced. "You make me want to vomit just thinking about that."

Gabriel grinned cheekily, and took a purposefully big bite of his éclair, chewing it slowly in front of Sam.

"Gross, man." Sam shoved Gabriel's shoulder.

"You won't be saying that when I get you alone later."

Sam opened his mouth to point out they were alone right then, but shut it quickly. He was not going to invite Gabriel to pounce on him in the middle of sidewalk where anyone and everyone could witness their affair.

Sam enjoyed the peaceful stroll through the small town, and although he would never admit it aloud, he was thankful that Gabriel had bought an excess amount of éclairs, because eating the remaining two served as a wonderful distraction for Gabriel, who would otherwise have made a point to complain about the walk. Sam swore Gabriel complained about such mundane things just to get attention.

Gabriel crumpled the take out bag between his hands and tossed it over his shoulder into a nearby garbage can. He licked his fingertips and hummed exaggeratedly, letting his gaze drift toward Sam.

Sam chuckled at the cheesy seduction tactic. His laugh was cut off with a barely audible gasp as two hands gripped his waist, fingertips dipped over the edge of his jeans and boxers brushing against his skin. Then Gabriel was pressed against his back, with his head titled up so his breath ghosted the back of Sam's neck. The hand threatening to yank his pants off, uncurled and slid up his shirt and touched muscles and flesh there.

The hotel was within sight, and Dean would probably stop off somewhere to get food.

Sam slipped his hand under his shirt and laced his fingers through Gabriel's. He squeezed Gabriel's hand then took off at a rushed pace toward the hotel, tugging Gabriel along behind him.

Gabriel laughed, and Sam grinned.

He was going to enjoy the next half hour thoroughly.


All evidence of Sam and Gabriel's escapades was cleaned up or hidden away by the time Dean returned to the hotel. Sam typed away at his laptop from his spot at the small desk offered by the hotel. Gabriel had pulled up a chair beside him and was blowing bubbles with his gum. His thigh was pressed extremely close to Sam's, but when Sam tried to slide away, Gabriel scooted closer.

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at Gabriel's action. Sam shrugged, silently communicating: It's Gabriel. He's weird.

Dean nodded, accepting the unspoken explanation. He dropped a brown grocery bag on the counter of the kitchenette. He whistled as he pulled out two pies and tossed them into the mini fridge. "Anything new?" Pulled a bottle of beer out of the bag and popped it open on the counter. He took a swig.

Gabriel perked up a like a dog offered a bone. He smirked. "Destiel has almost as many fans as Wincest."

Sam blanched.

Dean spat his beer out and wiped his mouth. "Are you talking about that fan-shit?"

Gabriel propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his palm. He hummed thoughtfully. "Honestly, I prefer Sastiel. The levels of social awkwardness and nerd are astoundingly amusing. " The corner of his eyes crinkled, and he leaned in so his face was only a few inches from Sam's. "Of course, it's still second to Sabriel." He puckered his and lips and leaned into Sam.

Sam shoved his hand over his mouth, effectively protecting his lips from Gabriel's kiss.

Gabriel frowned, but didn't pull away, letting his mouth hover centimeters from Sam's hand.

Dean took another gulp of beer before returning to unloading the grocery bag. "So anything new that does not have to do with those stupid books or its fans?"

"Nothing consistent." Sam leaned back in the chair to put some extra distance between him and Gabriel. His hand slipped down to his chin where he let it rest as he skimmed through the pile of police reports on the desk and few news articles he'd pulled up on his laptop. "In double murder cases, traces of chocolate were found in the victims' stomachs."

"So they both have chocolate then decided to kill each other?"

"No idea." Sam clicked through the news articles, ignoring how Gabriel pushed their sides together. "None of the other victims had chocolate in them. Although, the recent victim's hand was found in a chocolate box. Even so, the chocolate could just be a coincidence."

Dean scoffed, slamming the fridge door close, keeping his beer and another unopened on in his hand. "And how often is it a coincidence?" Dean handed Sam the unopened beer.

Sam twisted the cap off, elbowing Gabriel in the chest, since the angel refused to budge from his side. "Good point, but still nothing to go on, unless you know about any chocolate monsters, excluding Gabriel."

"I resent that," Gabriel mocked pouted, but his eyes glimmered with amusement.

"Only thing I can think of is witches, man." Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. "Takin' a shower."

"Good, you reek." Sam's fingers clicked across the keyboard.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam smiled. The bathroom door whined from lack of proper oiling, and shut with a soft click.

Sam didn't have time to blink before Gabriel was in his lap, grinding down on him, threading his fingers through Sam's hair, and tugging Sam forward into a bruising kiss. Sam gasped and slipped his hands between himself and Gabriel. He let his hands rest on Gabriel's chest as he enjoyed a few seconds of the sweet friction. He pressed his palms against Gabriel and yanked his head back, but was met with resistance.

Gabriel was very good about keeping his strengthen in check, but would occasionally use it to his advantage if he wanted to prolong a kiss for a few seconds. Sam let Gabriel continue to press and move their lips together heatedly, but when it lasted beyond five seconds, worry bubbled in Sam's gut.

He smacked his fist on Gabriel's chest, and Gabriel released him, looking very put out.

"Not that I wouldn't appreciate another round, but Dean's here."

The expression on Gabriel's face read as: Are you fucking kidding me?

That was puzzling. Sam had thought Gabriel and him had been on the same page when it came to Dean. Sam sighed in exasperation. "I really do not need Dean walking in on us and freaking out."

"Who cares if that chucklehead freaks out? He's going to have to learn to deal with it at some point."

"I care." Sam gave Gabriel a small shove, but the archangel was like a boulder and did not budge. "And what do you mean he has to learn to deal? Maybe if we were dating—"

Gabriel leveled a glare at Sam.

Realization sucker punched Sam in the face. "You think we're dating?" Talk about being off. Sam had complete misunderstood their relationship.

"You don't?"

"We haven't been on a date."

If Gabriel's glare had been scathing before, it reached volcanic levels at Sam's statement. "What do you call today?"

Sam had to pause for a moment to make sure he understood what Gabriel was saying, because never in his wildest fantasies would he had considered there time together a date. "We were working on a case."

"Alone," Gabriel deadpanned. "I had an éclair, we flirted, and then we went back to your place and had sex that would make a porn star jealous."

Gabriel's definition of a date was rather flimsy compared to Sam's, but he could see where the archangel was coming from. "Okay, I'll go with that, but even so, we never talked about whether we were friends with benefits, dating openly, or dating monogamously. Personally, I thought you were spending most of your days models."

"Have you been cheating on me?" Accusation laced Gabriel's voice.

Sam's jaw dropped. He shook his head in disbelief. "Are you joking, because this is not funny Gabriel? You sound like a jealous boyfriend." Sam winced. If Gabriel thought of himself as Sam's boyfriend, then that comparison made perfect sense and Sam had just dug himself into a twelve-foot deep hole.

Gabriel blinked then frowned. Then just like that, Gabriel was smiling at Sam, and wacked Sam playfully on the arm. "Jeez, Sasquatch, don't freak out. Although, you do bring up a pretty good point."

He wrapped his arm around Sam's neck, his eyes becoming half-mast as he prepared to kiss Sam, and Sam relaxed at the familiar gesture and attitude. He was still confused, which was why he welcomed the familiar gesture openly.

"Which is?" Sam spoke softly, knowing that in their proximity, Gabriel would be able to feel his warm breath brush across his lips.

"You need to know that you are officially in a monogamous relationship with me."

"Wait. Wha—?" Sam was cut off by Gabriel's lips pressing against his. Weren't they supposed to discuss this more, Sam wondered.

The bathroom door open, the shower still running as Dean whistled a happy tune. "Hey Sam, where did we put the…" Dean trailed off.

Sam didn't need look over his shoulder to know Dean was staring at Sam and Gabriel with their lips locked together slack-jawed. The pounding of Dean's footsteps across the carpeted floor was the only warning Sam had before Dean's hand clamped on his shoulder and yanked Gabriel and Sam apart.

"What the hell?" Dean aimed at Gabriel. His glare snapped toward Sam. "Did you give him permission, Sam?"

"Has been for the last few months," Gabriel said casually as he licked his lips, feigning nonchalance.

Dean dropped his hand from Sam's shoulder and gaped at him like Sam had just said Lucifer wasn't so bad. "And you didn't think it was important for me to know that you're screwing an angel?" He pointed at Gabriel. "Screwing this asshole, right here?"

Gabriel whistled lowly, and beamed. "Nice choices of words there, Dean-o."

Crimson blanketed Dean's face. It took only a moment for Dean to recover from his realization, and from there he assaulted Sam with a barrage of questions and recollections of all of Sam's past mistakes.

Sam glowered at Gabriel the entire evening, even when Gabriel insisted on climbing into bed with him "just to cuddle."


Sam held up his fake warrant for Lotta to see before he lowered it onto the display case and pushed it toward Lotta. Between Dean pestering him with inquiries and accusing stares, and Gabriel's clinginess, Sam managed to produce a pretty good replica of a search warrant. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to show it to a judge, but for the purposes of getting Lotta's information the fake would do.

Lotta frowned as she tapped her manicured nail on the paper. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head. "Whole world's gone crazy." She opened a drawer in her desk. There was a clattering of keys, and Lotta pulled out a ring of twenty keys, twirling it around her finger. "Back in a moment. Unless you two boys want to follow me to the filing cabinet." She eyed Sam and Gabriel, and Sam tried to ignore the fact that Gabriel was standing directly behind him, just inches away.

He was still reeling from his revelation the other day. Apparently he was Gabriel's boyfriend and vice versa.

It was still strange for him to think of them that.

Sam took a few steps forward, and Lotta took it as for Sam's answer. She led him into the back of the shop.

It really was a kitchen. Sunlight from the window of the backdoor bounced off the steel countertops. The place was immaculate with everything put away except for a stone and pestle on the table in the middle of the kitchen.

In the corner of the room—far away from the kitchen section—was a desk with a filing cabinet. Lotta unlocked the top drawer and pulled out a purple folder, tossing it onto the desk. "Those are my sales over the last month. You don't need any more since the murders started only a week or two ago, right?"

Sam shook his head, ignoring the pinch to his butt Gabriel gave him. "We'll need to look further back just in case."

Lotta cursed, clutching her keys in her hand. She took a deep breath then let it out. "Fine. I'm taking an early lunch. You two can stay back here and look through these files. Do it quick. Your energies are off today, and I really do not need to be in the presence of your negativity longer than required." She marched out of the back room without a word.

Sam listened for the door chime and the sound of the lock sliding into place to know when she was gone.

Sam let out a breath of tension only to suck it in again, as Gabriel swung himself in front of Sam, then clamped his hands on Sam's buttocks, trapping Sam in Gabriel's embrace. "Wanna do it on the desk?"

"Some other time." Sam crouched, slipping out of Gabriel's hold. He retreated two steps back as he straightened himself out then plopped himself into the swivel chair at the desk.

Gabriel pouted, perching himself on the edge of the desk. "C'mon Sam. She probably won't be back for an hour. Might as well have some fun."

"We had fun yesterday, and we can have fun later today." Sam frowned as he flipped open the folder. "What has gotten into you? I know you love sex, but normally you can keep it in your pants longer than this."

"Something wrong with me finding your banging bod irresistible?"

Sam shook his head, flattered by the compliment but not letting it show.

Gabriel smirked, adjusting his position so he was on his hands and knees atop the desk. He crawled toward Sam. His fingers curled around Sam's tie and he tugged Sam forward. "What can I say, I just want you more and more."

Sam picked up a sheet of paper from the stack in the folder and held it between their faces. "Later."

Gabriel scowled.


Dean was going to have a pie for dinner, the older Winchester determined as the sister of the first murderer—Angela or something similar was her name—led him through her house. The girl wasn't even out of high school, and she fidgeted as she guided Dean to the living room. He took small amusement in the juxtaposition between the floral couch and the sports-themed blanket thrown across its back.

Angela waved him to the couch as she took a seat in a loveseat that had seen better days, and promised its users backaches.

"I really don't know how much more I can help you." Angela gnawed her bottom lip and clasped her hands in her lap. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to my parents?"

"I'd be happy to, but until then, it would really help with my investigation if you could share anything you know about your sister. Was she acting strangely before…" Dean trailed off as the blood drained from Angela's face. He cleared his throat. "…you know."

Angela shook her head then bowed it. "Lana was the same. She and Greg…they had just started dating. It doesn't make any sense that she would…kill him."

"Do you know anyone who would have?"

"What?" Angela straightened.

"If you're sister isn't responsible, who do you think is?"

Angela opened her mouth then shut it. She shook her head.

Dean zeroed in on the actions and knew in a heartbeat that Angela had a theory. "Anything you tell me is strictly confidential. If you're worried about someone targeting you then…"

Angela threw her hands up and flailed them. "Oh no, I'm not worried about that. I mean… I wasn't." She winced. "It's just…it's not nice to start rumors, you know? Especially really malicious ones."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. "Listen, this isn't some powwow in the girls' locker room." If only it was, and the room was filled with age-appropriate women instead of minors. It'd be awesome. "Whatever you tell me isn't going to spread and cause the person to be singled out. I'm just trying to look at this from every possible angle."

Angela nodded, but didn't rush to speak her mind. She fiddled with the fabric of her jeans before she nodded again, accepting Dean's request. "There was a guy named David—I never got his last name because he was in a different grade than me, but I know he works at Danny's Sweet Shop and Lotta's potion shop. Lana and him always seemed to be dancing around each other—a lot of people thought they were going to start dating soon, but then Greg asked Lana out. Lana said yes, and the only times I've seen David since then he's been at work.

Honestly, when I first heard Greg was dead, I thought David had done it."

"Does this David guy have a history of being violent?"

Angela shook her head. "It's just a classic motive, you know? It comes up all time in books and stuff."

It wasn't much to go on—not even when combined with the information he had gleaned from Sam in between chewing his brother out for being a secretive asshole about Gabriel. There were some connections there though. David had spurned feelings for the first murderer, he worked with a witch—albeit a kitchen witch, he believed in magic, and…

Dean went ramrod straight. "Danny's Sweet Shop sells chocolate, right?"

"Yeah…" Angela answered like she thought it was a trick question.

Dean cursed under his breath. It was such a flimsy theory, but he'd gone after other leads for less. He shot up out of the chair. "Thank you for your time, Angela, but I really must be going. If think of anything else, any strange behavior, just give me a call." He handed her his card then made a beeline for the door, his hand dipping into his pocket for his cell phone.


Sam bit down a groan as Gabriel nibbled and sucked on the tender flesh of his neck. Gabriel hummed in delight as he moved lower down Sam's throat.

Sam sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair, putting down the paper he'd just been reading. He leaned into the touch, enjoying Gabriel's ministrations with his mouth and Gabriel's fingers kneading deeply into the back of his neck. He'd been doing his best to keep Gabriel focused on the task at hand, but Gabriel was determined.

Sam wanted nothing more than to relax and forget about the case for the moment, but he knew every second he wasted was another chance for the person responsible for the strange string of murders to strike again.

Sam carded his hand through Gabriel's hair and forced Gabriel's face away from his neck. Gabriel eyes were lit in delight, and he huffed like he had been drowning as he smirked at Sam.

A small voice in the back of Sam's head mumbled something about angels not needing oxygen. He was too determined to get it through to Gabriel that they needed to work and play would come later.

Sam pushed the swivel chair back. He inhaled sharply when Gabriel, in move as fast as lightning, snatched Sam's chair back, pulling Sam closer him. He gripped Sam by the shoulders, his nails pressing so hard, any more strength put into the hold would leaves crescents in Sam's skin. He pressed his forehead against Sam's, inhaling deeply.

"Gabriel?" Sam had been prepared to yell at Gabriel the moment the angel stopped his retreat, but Gabriel's shuddery breath set off warning sirens in Sam's head. He reached up and cupped his hand over Gabriel's back.

Gabriel shook his head, his eyes screwed shut. "Not enough."

Sam's phone rang.

Sam internally cursed. Whatever was happening to Gabriel, it deserved Sam's undivided attention, but if Dean was calling with a lead then Sam would be remise to not answer. Wiggling in the chair so he maintained his proximity with Gabriel, Sam fished out his phone.

Dean's number flashed on the screen. "I gotta take this."

Gabriel's eyes flew open. His warm golden eyes had turned scathing.

Sam pressed the phone to his ear. "Find anything?"

"We gotta check out that David guy some more. Turns he had a thing for the first murderer. Also, how much of a coincidence do you think it is that he works for a witch, and doles out chocolate on the side?"

"Chocolate?"

"Sam…" Gabriel's voice was a warning.

"Come on, man. Remember what you said last night. The double-homicides? The chocolate? The severed hand in a chocolate box?"

The puzzle pieces clicked together in Sam's head. He removed his hand from Gabriel's back and flipped shut the folder containing all of Lotta's paperwork. "Okay, we'll meet you—"

Gabriel ripped the phone out of Sam's hand and crushed it in his fist.

"Gabriel!" Sam squawked in disbelief.

Gabriel glared at him, and wrapped his hand behind Sam's head. He leaned in so his lips hovered inches from Sam's. There was something murderous and crazed about Gabriel's eyes, and Sam fought off a shudder.

"Gabriel?" Sam whispered. He felt like a Leviathan and not his boyfriend were staring him down.