A blinding flash of pure white light illuminated the abandoned roadside very near to the dead center of the continental United States—Lebanon, Kansas. If someone had been watching (but no one had), they might have blinked at the brightness and shied away, but also found that they were strangely drawn to it. And they would have flinched with surprise when the light faded away to reveal a man lying on his side in the dead grass lining the road.

But there was no one watching, so there was no one to shy away and no one to help him. He was not a large man; rather, he was quite small and unimpressive. He had slightly floppy light brown hair, and his olive-green button-down shirt worn over a brown shirt and light blue jeans were tattered and bloodstained. His face looked like it should have been laughing or smirking with satisfaction, but instead was the picture of unconscious misery. If his eyes hadn't been closed, one might have seen that they were pale grey-green.

With a groan, he opened his eyes: grey-green, yes, and pained and haunted. Somehow, he found the strength to stand up and gaze around, confused. Then, perhaps, he figured out where he was, and stumbled along down the road.

There was a knock at the bunker door. "What the hell?" Dean Winchester said, irritated. "It's eleven at night."

Sam, his brother, sitting at the table reading some huge, ancient book, replied distractedly. "It's probably Cas."

"Cas would just come in, he doesn't knock," Dean objected. "Who could that even be? We don't know anyone who knows this place."

"Um, Jody? Garth? I don't know, man, just go look."

"You go answer it."

"Dude. Go answer the door."

"Fine." Dean walked over to the door sulkily. He unlatched the numerous locks on the handle and opened it. At the sight of the person standing beyond it, he practically jumped backwards with shock. "Holy crap!" he cried.

"Heya, Dean-o," Gabriel said, smiling tiredly. "Long time no see." Then he collapsed.

"Whoa!" Dean said, catching him before he hit the metal doorframe.

Sam's voice could be heard from the other room as he ran over. "What the—is that Gabriel?!"

"Uh…" Dean started, looking down in disbelief at the man he was supporting. "I think it is. How the hell is that…even possible?"

Sam, reaching them, took one look at the unconscious angel and nodded. "That's freaking Gabriel. Um. He's supposed to be dead."

"What do we do?"

"Get him inside? He looks like he's hurt." Sam reached out to help Dean, and together they dragged Gabriel into the bunker and put him on the nearest couch.

"Should we call Cas?" Sam asked.

"This is so out of our area. Yes. We're calling Cas." Dean closed his eyes. Cas, we've got an old friend here. We need some help, it's—

"Gabriel," Castiel breathed. With the fluttering of invisible wings, he was now standing right next to Dean. He went straight over to Gabriel and knelt next to the couch. He placed two fingers on Gabriel's forehead. "Brother, what happened to you?" he whispered, concerned.

Gabriel gave a slight gasp and tried to sit up, his eyes springing open. Cas pushed him back down. "Hey, Cassie," Gabriel murmured.

"Hello, Gabriel."

"You look worried, brother." Gabriel gave a faint smile.

"We believed you to be dead," Castiel replied bluntly. "Why are you not dead?"

"Let me sit up, Cas," Gabriel instructed. Cas obliged. "I was dead. Sort of. Dear Luci—" He made a face. "Killed me."

"We saw," Sam interjected. "What happened then?"

"What would any good brother do? He took me home."

Castiel frowned. "You mean…he brought you down to Hell?"

"Mmhmm. Trapped my grace, trapped my soul, whatever you want to call it. I don't know how he did it, but he took me there just like I was a human. Must have been a spell or something."

"And you've been in Hell all this time?" Castiel asked, careful sympathy in his voice.

Gabriel nodded. "How long has it been?"

"Like nearly four years," Dean stated.

Gabriel grimaced. "Yeesh. Felt a lot longer than that."

"Yes, I imagine it would." Castiel tilted his head to the side. "Dean has said that a month here corresponds to ten years in Hell. Is that what you found to be true?"

"Oh, I don't know. It isn't like I was counting the days, Cassie." He rubbed his hand across his eyes tiredly. "I stopped counting, actually. At ten thousand, I decided I wasn't going to keep counting for eternity. Besides, I wasn't always sure what was real and what was an illusion, so it seemed a bit pointless." As if suddenly aware of what he was saying, he stopped talking.

Castiel didn't press him about it. "Your clothing is covered in blood. Are you injured?"

"Is it?" Gabriel responded, confused. He looked down at his shirt. "Oh, I guess so."

Dean interrupted them. "Gabe, he was asking if you were hurt."

"Quite possibly. I'm not too concerned." He looked directly at Cas. "Cassie, I don't have my grace anymore." Suddenly, his voice wasn't cocky and self-assured, but small and sad.

Without a word, Cas reached up and touched Gabriel's forehead again. A slight glow filled the air and then dimmed, the blood on the shirt gone completely. Gabriel sighed slightly. "Oh. I guess I was hurt, then." For the second time, his eyes closed and he slumped over.

Castiel stood up quickly, stopping the former archangel from slipping off of the couch by grasping his shoulders. "Gabriel, please stay awake," he instructed.

He shook his head slowly. "I think I'm going to pass out now, Castiel. See you in the morning…" Cas couldn't wake him up again. He let Gabriel lie back down on the couch carefully.

A rather stunned silence filled the room. "Well," Dean said finally. "That just happened."

Sam looked at Cas. "He lost his grace? He isn't an angel anymore?" Castiel nodded. "Wow. An essentially human Gabriel. That is not something I ever thought I would see."

"We never thought we were going to see him again anyway, human or angel," Dean countered. "What does this mean? If what he said was true and he's been in Hell all this time…how did he get out? Who brought him back?"

"And is it actually him?" Sam added. "I mean, are we sure it's Gabriel and not…I don't know, shape-shifter, skinwalker, demon…Whatever?"

"No," Cas started slowly, "no, it really is him. I'm sure of it."

"Now that that's settled, what are we going to do with him?" Dean posed. "I don't suppose you can take him, Cas?"

Cas looked thoughtful. "I could if I had to, but the situation would not be ideal. Can't he stay here with you for the time being?"

"Of course he can, I mean, he died for us. It's the least we can do. Right, Dean?"

"Yeah. Sure. Though I'm not looking forward to taking care of a probably traumatized ex-angel who is also an annoying ass."

"So to be clear, you two are willing to let him stay here if he wants until he figures out how to live as a human?" Cas clarified. "I realize he isn't exactly your favorite person…"

"Dude, he's not even our favorite angel," Sam laughed.

Cas frowned, trying to work out what that meant. "Who is?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Um…you…?"

Dean smirked. "As long as he can't, you know, stick us into TV-hell again."

Sam shuddered. "Or time loops. Tuesday," he added in a halfway inaudible mutter.

Castiel nodded, relieved. "No, he can't do either of those now. He no longer has any of his angelic powers. He is, for all intents and purposes, human."

"Hey, how did that happen, exactly?" Sammy wanted to know. "Did his grace, like, get left behind in Hell or what?"

"More likely, it faded," Cas answered. "Please don't ask me to explain how that works. Gabriel can, if he wants to try. I must take my leave now; I am very busy." Whoosh. He was gone.

Thank you for reading this. I'm going to keep author's notes super short on this story. Love you all!