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For nerdytardis on tumblr

Fanart by andlatitude: post/10755900824

Beta'd by WithinHerHeart

Sam liked to dream.

Reality was something brash and scary and well, real. There was no escaping the truth that revealed itself there and for Sam, it was a place of nightmares. Vampires and werewolves; spirits and reapers; angels and demons – all creatures that he encountered everyday of his life basically from his earliest memory and it was something he knew he couldn't escape. He had duties and responsibilities that he had accepted years ago.

But, his dreams were something different. They defied the laws of physics and created their own. It was anything he wanted it to be; his own world, a safe haven from the darkness. Before he may have dreamt about having a family, with Jess most likely, and have an array of gorgeous blond haired, brown eyed children. Before he may have dreamt about having a normal life, becoming a lawyer and having parents that were proud of him for his achievement instead of one deceased mother and a father who he had fought with violently on his departure to Sanford.

Now though, now was different.

Now, Sam dreamed of him.

He wasn't entirely sure when it happened. He couldn't pin point an exact date, but he guessed it was something that happened slowly over a long period of time. So slowly that it didn't even shock him when Gabriel appeared, perched on the end of his bed of whatever crappy motel he and Dean were staying in that week, a familiar and ridiculously attractive smirk on his face.

Sam wasn't really sure whether the angel was a figment of his imagination or the real deal, seeping into his subconscious when it was at its weakest. The latter seemed almost too hopeful but, he had noticed that people around him had a habit of dying and then appearing as if by magic, resorted to their original state, just a little more screwed up.

He'd asked Gabriel this, and the angel had just smirked at him and responded with, "Sammy, I'm whatever you want me to be," his hands sliding across the stretch of the duvet to grasp his hand tightly. The touch always felt real, and when he awoke, he could feel the tingling in his hand for at least an hour afterwards.

While the dreams varied, Gabriel was always the constant. Sometimes he complained at him for the most banal things, like how he needed to shave his sideburns "because, seriously, they're getting ridiculous. In a few more months, you'll look like Wolverine". Sometimes he berated him for actions during the day, "you could have gotten yourself killed. Seriously, Sammy, you're much too pretty to die."

Mostly though, Gabriel pinned him to his bed with unbelievable strength and proceeded to kiss, suck and fuck his brains out. He particular liked those dreams. They were ones that he jolted awake from, sweating and trembling with pleasure and sure, Dean made jokes about wet dreams to him, but it was totally worth it. He spent most of his day in a continuous wait for the times when he could slip beneath the covers on his bed; let his eyes flutter close and slumber take him. It was something he looked forward to.

And then they stopped.

Not the dreams, he still dreamt as before. But Gabriel…he just wasn't there anymore. He left this empty feeling inside of him and it took him a few nights of nothingness to realise it was loneliness. He missed Gabriel, and now that he was gone, he didn't know what to do.

It was nearly three weeks after the dreams stopped – of stressing out and wondering and of Dean asking worriedly what was wrong while he adamantly denied that anything was wrong until he finally broke under the pressure of his own lost feelings and blurted everything out – before he figured out why.

Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He just…how was that even possible? Gabriel lay, spread across his bed, spread eagle and enthusiastically rubbing the sheets with his hands and commented, "Wow boys, a step up from the usual dump, me thinks."

Castiel stood off to the side of his brother with a frustrated frown on his face. Sam had seen that look before. Hell, he'd given that look before. It was one that only appeared when you had a fondness for someone completely and utterly hopeless. But Sam wasn't really paying attention to be honest. He was too distracted by the fact Gabriel was on his bed – and he wasn't dreaming.

…He wasn't, was he?

He pinched himself discretely, or at least, he thought he did.

"Not a dream Sammy," Gabriel chortled, "I'm all real and all me."

Dean clapped Sam on his shoulder and gave him the kind of smile that simply said 'just thank me later'. He cleared his throat and then said something about Cas coming with him to look for some food – "I could do with some apple pie."

Castiel looked puzzled but didn't say anything. He merely pierced his brother with a look and stated, "be good" before leaving with his human.

"I make no promises," Gabriel shouted after them, gleefully.

The door shut with a firm thud, dosing the room in an awkward tension that neither was sure how to break. Sam had so many questions to ask, all racing around his brain – Were you in my dreams? Was I just imaging you? How did you get back? Why did you leave me? They all tried to force their way out of his mouth at the same time and all that was achieved as a strange high pitched noise that he would deny if Gabriel ever brought it up – and judging by the look on Gabriel's face, he was definitely going to do that.

In the end, Sam hesitantly approached the bedside, one hand held out shakily when he was overcome with his need to just touch. Gabriel's cocky expression faded, replaced without something so open and vulnerable that he just didn't seem real. All his breath left him in one swoop when his fingertips brushed along Gabriel's cheekbones. The skin was smooth beneath his fingers, unblemished and real, definitely real.

"Where were you?" Sam whispered softly, as if speaking any louder would break them.

"Nowhere you want to be," Gabriel responded calmly.

"I take you're not going to tell me then…"

"There's nothing you'd want to know,"

Sam nodded understandingly. When his memories from the pit started to return to him, he had wanted to keep those memories – the screaming, the burning; the pain – all to himself. Granted, it hadn't ended well for him, and he made a silent note to himself to bring it up later, but now, he would keep quiet and just enjoy that he was here.

Gabriel opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, before halting uncertainly. Sam arched a questioning eyebrow.

"…I want a hug," he pouted childishly. It didn't take much effort to realise that he was reverting back to his defensive exterior – the trickster, where everything was a game. If he didn't know better, Sam would have allowed himself to be hurt.

Instead, he quirked his lips upward into a smile, "As corny as this sounds, you really don't have to ask about stuff like that…" he assured.

There was a moment of pause before Sam was jerked backwards by the sudden and unexpected heavy weight that threw itself towards his chest. He let out a startled 'oof' noise upon impact, and he automatically began to tense, an involuntary reaction from years of hunting, and his mind went into a panic of finding someway to defend himself - but then Gabriel's arms tightened with an almost desperate tinge to the hold, his face pressed firmly into his shoulder blade, and his hot breath bringing shivers to his body.

Sam's body loosened, leaning into the hold and his arms moved to wrapped around the angel's shoulders, drawing him closer. Gabriel was trembling, although Sam couldn't tell why, not that he cared. It was just another excuse for him to pull the angel closer and duck his head to nuzzle against the side of his head.

"I missed you," Gabriel admitted, his voice muffled against Sam's plaid shirt.

Sam's fingers flexed and hooked into the fabric of his shirt. He had so much that he wanted to say, so much that he wasn't ready to say, so much that he knew he should say. But it wouldn't be enough. If he opened his mouth and tried to open that can of worms, they'd all jump out in quick succession and he'd be unable to stop everything from blurting out. So, instead, he said the only thing he could say. It wasn't enough, not really, and he wished he had something better to articulate, but, for now, it was safe.

"I missed you too…"