Privilege

by UnityGhost

"He tried to shatter you into as many pieces as Asmodeus did to me. I'm trying to imagine anybody doing that to you. I know my brother is capable of anything; I wish I didn't know, but I do. And even him … I get that the universe doesn't play fair but trying to wrap my head around anyone wanting to destroy you like that … it isn't coming easy."

Part ... oh man, part 11 of my series Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. I need to get a social life.

LunaHermioneGinny requested that I write a second piece centered around Sam in distress and Gabriel as a source of comfort. (The other story is "Scratches," which was also based on a prompt.)

Anyway, say hi on Tumblr. Work usually winds up there first, plus you get to see me be weird: .com

WARNING: This story contains themes of sexual assault.

Sam had taken to falling asleep in Gabriel's room. Not every night, of course: Gabriel would never have asked that much of him (or at least liked to think he wouldn't). But Sam knew how much of a difference it made when someone stayed nearby while Gabriel was losing consciousness - a process he hadn't been able to escape since losing the majority of his grace in Hell.

It was easy to feel vulnerable while falling asleep, even for people who did it on a regular basis.

Sam would sit, still clad in jeans and flannel, against the wall or in the corner, scanning the Men of Letters' texts for anything he, Dean, and Castiel might be able to use to their advantage in future hunts. While Gabriel wasn't proud of it, he was too scared to insist that Sam stop and focus on himself for a little while. After all, it wasn't as though Gabriel had any pride to lose at this point.

Well, maybe that wasn't true. Gabriel had almost told Sam not to sit on the floor, that he could lie down and rest in the bed and in the process help Gabriel feel more secure. But that – even Gabriel was above that.

It wasn't unusual for Gabriel to still be fully alert well past the middle of the night. It almost irritated him that Sam wouldn't lose patience, tell Gabriel everything would be fine, and leave him to face the night on his own. Sam didn't deserve to put himself through Gabriel's neurosis – at least not twenty-four hours a day.

Still, Gabriel found it was getting a little easier to accept that Sam wanted to be there for him. So much easier, in fact, that Gabriel worried he might get overly comfortable with having such compassion on hand almost all the time. What would he do if something changed? How much more would it hurt if he stopped expecting anything to change?

He was lying awake thinking about this a few hours after Sam had fallen asleep in the corner of the room.

Gabriel always kept the light on as long as he was still up. Once in a while Sam turned it off if he was staying in the room; if he left, he didn't touch it.

And since the room was lit, Gabriel could see what happened.

It was a straightforward process: for two minutes, Sam shifted in his sleep. Then, without warning, he jolted awake without a sound, staring at the wall, and shuddered as though overcome with a chill.

Gabriel sat up. "Sam?"

Sam jumped and turned to look at him.

Gabriel peeled away the sheets and stood. "What's up? Are you okay?" He moved closer to examine him. "Crap, are you sick or something? You look bad."

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up a little straighter. "No. No, I'm all right. Didn't mean to - "

"I was awake." Gabriel lowered himself to the floor to sit beside him. "What's the matter, Sam?"

"I uh … I don't know."

"Wrong. Think of something else."

Sam shook his head. "There's no need for you to stress out over me. It's my job to make sure you get through the night, not the other way around."

"What are you - " Gabriel stared at him in astonishment. "Your job?"

Sam looked puzzled. "Yeah. Of course."

"Uh-huh. I see. Well, maybe you ought to take that hefty salary of archangel puke and book a trip to Fort Lauderdale. Dad knows you've earned your vacation time."

Sam waved him away. "It's just the usual. You know."

"No, I don't. Because you never say anything."

Sam shook his head. "Look, buddy - you don't need this. It's okay. I don't expect you to take it on, so don't feel bad."

"I'm not taking anything on. Consider it a, ah, distraction for me. See? Look at it like that and it's just part of your" - he crooked his fingers in air quotations - "'job.' Come on, I could stand five minutes of not feeling sorry for myself. Now start talking because you know I can keep this up all night."

Sam studied him for a moment. "You're like me, you know that?"

"Don't insult yourself."

"I mean that you get more comfortable expressing yourself a little when you're trying to help somebody else."

"Well, look at it however you want. As long as it gets you to tell me what's wrong."

Sam turned his gaze to his lap.

"Sam."

"I can't," Sam muttered.

"Look. Really think for a second, okay? What's this compared to everything else you've had to put yourself through?" Gabriel paused. "The crap you've been dealing with your whole life. And … and me."

Sam straightened against the wall. "I don't really know how to say this, but I think it might hit a little close to home for you."

"Then I can help!"

"Except that - "

"Please." Gabriel's voice grew softer. "Please, I don't want to see you upset like this. Counterproductive for you, counterproductive for me. So just let me do what I can."

Sam went a full minute without answering, during which time Gabriel could really look at him.

"Hey." Gabriel wound his fingers around Sam's forearm, clutching it. "Once you start shaking you're not gonna be able to stop. It's all right, kiddo. I'm here."

Sam closed his eyes but made no move to try and shrug Gabriel off. "I don't expect you to be."

"In that case," Gabriel told him, "You mis-expected."

Sam fixed his eyes on the floor. Gabriel waited, maintaining his grip.

Finally, Sam spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Your - your brother, he …"

"He's a slut for bloodshed," Gabriel agreed.

"Well yeah, that too; but I meant something different." At last, Sam met Gabriel's eyes. He didn't speak, but there was no need.

Gabriel's breath caught.

"Yeah," Sam said. "This is why I didn't want to bring it up. It's bad, and … it's bad. It is. But I'm used to having those dreams and I know how to wait out the aftermath."

Gabriel pushed himself up from the floor and offered a hand. "Come on, come sit with me."

With some reluctance, Sam allowed Gabriel to pull him to his feet.

"Don't knot yourself up over me," Gabriel told him once they were settled on the bed. "We've seen a lot of the same stuff, Sam. Too much. And I know that. Man, I know. And I know how fragile I am, and I hate that you have to watch. But" - he rested a hand on Sam's back - "I also know I'm not the only one in this bunker who's had one of the bad guys tear me open in every possible way."

Sam looked nauseated.

"Not to mention," Gabriel went on, "That you're so damn good at holding yourself in one piece that I don't wonder for a second how you made it through all that time with my brother. But Sam, if anybody gets how hard it is to do that, I'm your guy."

Sam didn't respond.

"If I don't think I can help then I won't try," Gabriel said. "Give me a shot. You deserve at least that much."

Sam closed his eyes and, after a moment's deliberation, opened them again. "It was a dream. That's all it was. Sometimes they're just so … oh god, they can be so …"

"I know."

"And when they get like that, I just - I start thinking about the stuff I could never bring myself to tell Dean or Cas. All the stuff I don't want them to see. But Lucifer - Gabriel, he - I just can't - "

"You don't have to say more than you think you can manage; it's fine, Sam."

"It hurt," Sam whispered.

After everything Sam had sacrificed to keep Gabriel somewhere near sane, Gabriel couldn't imagine why even Lucifer would want to do anything like what Asmodeus had done to him.

"And Gabriel," Sam continued, turning to him with fearful eyes, "I can't have you seeing any of it either. I can't."

"How come?"

"Because then you won't want me to help you."

Some of Gabriel's terror dissipated. "In what universe could I possibly, ever, not want your help? I mean okay, if it were up to me I wouldn't need it and you wouldn't feel any inclination to commit to a disaster like the one that British mobster dragged out of the pit, but clearly I can't stop myself from needing you." He paused. "You think I'm gonna judge you for being Lucifer's chew toy? Good. I am. Ten out of ten. Because you never looked like I do now."

"That's not true; I - I hallucinated and got thrown into a psych ward."

"Well, don't I feel better about the fact that I jump when I hear myself breathing too hard."

"You've got to stop talking down to yourself like that," Sam protested. "Listen, in a lot of ways you're doing better than I am. Even now."

"Sam." Gabriel kept his voice level. "There's a time and place for delusions, and this isn't it."

"I'm serious. Gabriel, you let people help you."

"You say that almost like it's a good thing."

"What, you think it's better to just keep getting worse?"

"Sometimes. Maybe. If …" Gabriel paused. "If you haven't earned the privilege of not getting worse."

"And you think I have?"

Sam's response sounded so natural, so reflexive, that Gabriel removed his hand from Sam's back and leaned away to get a better look at his face. "Sam?"

Sam averted his eyes again.

"Sam, what was that?"

Still, nothing.

"Sam." Gabriel could hear an undertone of panic in his voice. "You're not allowed to shut up yet."

At long last, Sam shook his head. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"You shouldn't have been thinking it in the first place!" Gabriel cried. "Sam - how could you see yourself that way?"

"How could I not?" Sam suddenly sounded angry. "After what he did to me? After what he made me do to him?"

"But you - "

"Gabriel, I don't need to tell you what that's like!"

"No, you don't; I - "

"There's - " Sam clenched his fists in his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "You know, Gabriel. You know there's no getting rid of him."

Images spun through Gabriel's mind: Sam, crushed under the weight of Lucifer's body, using what little breath he had left to scream for help until his voice drained away.

Isolated in the Cage, sullied by the devil's own hands, infected by a brother whom Gabriel had, moments ago, claimed to love.

Gabriel was overcome by the same sickness, the same fear, the same tightness of breath that swallowed him whole every time he faced his own memories.

When he spoke, his voice was uneven. "I won't ask why you didn't tell me; I already know. You think it's - "

"Too much," Sam confirmed, and clenched his fists in an effort to quell the trembling. "And I was right, wasn't I?"

"Sam … no, I … it isn't that this is more than I can handle. It's that he tried to shatter you into as many pieces as Asmodeus did to me. I'm trying to imagine anybody doing that to you. I know my brother is capable of anything; I wish I didn't know, but I do. And even him … I get that the universe doesn't play fair but trying to wrap my head around anyone wanting to destroy you like that … it isn't coming easy."

Sam kept his eyes on his hands. "Sometimes I think it worked."

Gabriel grabbed his arm again. "It didn't. I can see it didn't; I can feel it didn't. Trust me, if he'd managed to ruin you like that, you'd never have had any effect on me. We'd both be what I am. But I'm not what I was - I'm astronomically screwed up and I'm not stupid enough to pretend that's ever gonna change, but Sam - you took some of it away. I don't know how you did it but you took something dead and made it … made it …" He struggled. "... less dead."

"That's because you deserved to get better. You still do. I want to give you what I can. As much as you - "

"Sam," Gabriel interrupted, "We're talking about you. Not me. Now look." He spoke gently. "I don't know where these fairy tales are coming from, but I'm giving you a new job. First assignment: shut up. Second assignment: eyes on me. And third: listen."

Pale with exhaustion, Sam met his gaze.

"I don't get it," Gabriel said. "I don't understand. You feeling this way about yourself, about him being right - I could put together an entire thesis on why it's all so absurd. Sam, when you look at me … do you see the same thing that you see in you? And if the answer is yes, then I can't have you holding me up every time I freak out, because you've been taught your whole life that all you're good for is watching out for other people. And if taking care of me is part of what's driving that home right now … it needs to stop."

Sam stiffened in horror. "No. Gabriel, that's not up for debate."

"Well good, because I'm gonna fall apart if you decide it's time to wrap this up. I hate how real that is, but - but it is real, and I'm not trying to tell you to go away. I'm trying to make you see that you're worth more than just a 'job.'"

Sam lowered his head, and Gabriel's stomach twisted. How was he supposed to fix this? He knew he was hardly in a position to counsel, and the picture of Sam - the only one who had somehow found a means of salvaging what was left of him, when Gabriel had been so certain there was nothing there at all - being eaten alive by Lucifer's cruelty was …

Well. Gabriel wouldn't say it, but maybe "too much" had been an appropriate warning.

"Sam," he said instead, "How much is this happening?"

"Huh?"

"Do you dream about him a lot?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "Not like you do."

"That's a low standard so if you - Sam?"

Sam had pressed both hands to his face.

"Sam." Gabriel tugged them away. "You don't have to do that. It's just me."

"I know," Sam choked.

Gabriel held onto his wrists. "He can't do anything to you anymore. You're not stuck with him. Actually, you're stuck with me. And I know you're not psychotic like I am but maybe you need to be reminded that you're okay. So what can I - "

Sam seized him, and Gabriel in fear of the unforeseen embrace. He couldn't remember Sam ever being so physically forceful with him.

Sam's hold was tight, desperate, terrified. The sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body, helped Gabriel relax. "Sam. Everything's all right. It was just a dream." He hesitated, then went on, "And none of what he made you see or feel or do or - or think was because you deserved it. He's an animal, Sam; he wanted you to suffer because he's an animal."

"It's not - it's not that." Sam went to pull away, but Gabriel grabbed him again. He felt Sam's muscles loosen, as though Gabriel's insistence had been a relief. "It's that once it happened, once he made me into what he did … that's what turned me worthless."

"Don't say the W-word."

"If I wasn't a disgusting mess before - God, Gabe, sometimes I feel like I shouldn't even be - "

"If the next word to come out of your mouth is 'alive,' you're gonna have to go sit back in the corner until you think about what you've done."

With unexpected fury, Sam tore himself from Gabriel's arms. "You asked me to tell you what's going on - well, that's what's going on. Always. Every day. You asked for what's really getting to me - I don't have another answer."

The room tilted and Gabriel blinked spots from his eyes. "What?"

Sam glared at him, shaking with what might have been fear and could just as easily have been rage.

Gabriel was surprised when he found that the feverish glow in Sam's eyes didn't frighten him - at least not in the way it would have some time ago, when Gabriel probably would have thought even Sam was no longer a safe presence.

No, this was different.

"Sam." Gabriel found that he was struggling to breathe properly. "Sam - holy crap, you wouldn't."

"No," Sam agreed in a low voice, "I wouldn't. Not as long as I have a job to do."

Sickness clawed at Gabriel's throat. "No, Sam - no! You're not just here to coach me through everything! Or to protect your brother, or to save people - none of that, Sam!" He heard his voice rise in pitch as panic threatened to overwhelm him. "And Lucifer - Sam, everything he forced out of you, everything you lost when you were trapped with him - you're still you! He never screwed that up; he couldn't have wrecked you that bad no matter how hard he tried. He made you do so much for him - and he made you need help - but he didn't make you into anything!"

"Yes, Gabriel, he did!" Sam barked. "He made me into filth!"

Gabriel recoiled.

"He made me into whatever he wanted me to be," Sam went on, flushed and sweaty, "And there's no getting away from that! Ever!"

"If that's true," Gabriel pleaded, "Then it applies to me too. If that's what you see in yourself, and you're not telling the truth about how all of this works, then what am I? And more importantly, you could - could - " He hugged himself. "I didn't realize I was that close to losing you."

"No," Sam whispered. "You're not. If other people want my help, I … without being what other people need, I'm just his."

"And is that it?" Gabriel felt cold. "Sam, is that the only reason you've done so much to bring me out of this? Because it's your job and you're getting paid in reasons not to kill yourself?"

Sam was silent. Then: "No, of course not."

"But if I told you I was okay? What would happen if you were free of me?"

"Then I'd still have other things to take care of. Don't worry Gabriel; I'm sticking around."

"But for what? Listen, I'm not complaining; I'll take any alternative, but I never could've guessed what might happen if if you decided that …" He swallowed. "I have half a mind to wake your brother up because I think you might listen to him if he yells loud enough."

Sam jerked his head up. "No!"

"Well my brother is already fully alert, so - "

"Don't. Gabriel, don't."

"Then what can I do, Sam? Because personally, I'm settling for nothing less than a complete redirection of common sense. I don't even understand what's happening; I mean - you want to die, but you'll live because your only purpose is to be useful. You believe in me, but you have no confidence in your own right to exist." His voice thickened. "You want to help me, but only because you think you have to!"

"Gabriel, that's not true. So not true. I'm just saying that if there's any reason to be here, helping you happens to be a good one. It's important. There's no way I'm doing it just because I need an excuse to shake off Lucifer. Gabriel, I promise."

Gabriel wiped his eyes. "Okay. So. You have a handful of solid distractions. But what about in the long term? What happens if you run out of sideshows?"

"There are always gonna be people who need saving."

"Great. Then let's get back to the here and now. How can you not know you're more than just what you're useful for? How could you possibly, ever, value my brother's perspective above your own? And never mind that dickhead's, what about mine? I know I've bitched about being no one worth listening to, but for the purposes of this conversation, I happen to be worth ten of my brother." Gabriel heaved himself off the bed and stood before Sam, bracing both hands on his shoulders. Sam watched him, looking lost.

"You," Gabriel began, holding Sam's gaze, "Are permitted to freak out. You're permitted to be a mess. You're permitted to take a break from nursing my sorry ass back into the land of the living." He leaned forward. "But you do not have permission to threaten yourself just because you have some corrupted calculus of personal merit digging holes into your brain!"

Sam's breathing grew shallow. Then he lifted both hands and wrapped his fingers around either of Gabriel's wrists, without moving to push them off. "Don't let me make you see this, Gabriel. Please."

"Shut it. Now's not the time to try and get rid of me. You know, you are right about one thing. I'm hardly in any position to give you whatever you need right now. But you can bet the soggy dregs of keratin in your last bottle of Garnier Fructis that I understand what it's like to need it."

Finally, Sam lifted Gabriel's hands from his shoulders and released them. He watched Gabriel's face without blinking, and his face crumpled again.

Gabriel's heart dropped. "Shit, that's not what I meant to do."

Sam turned away and pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle a series of sobs. Only in that moment did Gabriel observe, in sharp detail, how worn down Sam looked - the waxiness of his skin, the shadows beneath his eyes.

And Gabriel had been the one to do that.

Still, maybe he could make up for at least some of it.

He retook his place next to Sam on the bed. "I just wanted you not to be such a jerk to yourself."

Sam coughed, keeping his face averted and making no effort to dry his face. "It's okay; it's not - not your fault." He took a shuddering breath. "You must be so tired."

"No. I'm really not. But you - you're still in your street clothes and have been bunched up on a hardwood floor for four hours. And nothing's gonna get better if you drag yourself around in a state of near-collapse. Go to bed, Sam. You need rest."

"But you - "

"I'll be fine."

Sam shook his head. "I know you better than that."

"Well then I'll sleep on the floor and you make yourself horizontal instead of crawling back into the corner like a cat looking for a place to die. I promise I didn't sweat all over the sheets the way I do when it's me who gets upset."

"I don't want to go back to bed. Not right now."

"In that case, I say we do something productive. Like watch Parks and Rec or draw on Dean's face."

Sam smiled, and finally swiped the heels of his hands over his face. "I'll trust you with this decision."

"Even if I say we should break out the Sharpie?"

"He would do the same to me."

Gabriel grinned. "As much as I'd love to indulge us both on that one, it's a little early to risk getting chewed out."

"Okay, I think I left my laptop in the kitchen." Sam started to get up.

"Hold on," Gabriel warned, "I'm not finished with you yet."

Sam sat back down. "Gabriel - "

"Listen - Sam - you can't keep this up. You can't. Not for my sake, or for anybody that isn't you. Now if you don't start cutting yourself a break, I'm not gonna be able to stop thinking about all this. I mean it. I want you to turn yourself around on this one. You have to. Whatever you gotta do to look at it the right way, do it. I'm not dumb and I know you can't do it right away, or without talking to somebody. Me. Dean. Castiel. Be rational, Sam. Please. There's no reason to think you're not important just for the sake of existing, and everything to lose if you don't."

Sam hesitated. "Part of me thinks that's impossible."

"Well board up that window and focus on the part of you that believes you can do it!"

Sam didn't reply.

"I'm not forcing you to believe anything right this second, Sam. But enough coercion has to pay off eventually." He touched Sam's shoulder. "You've had too much personal experience to think that's not true."

Sam glanced at him, then away. "Yeah. Maybe."

"And that being said, you know what'd happen to me if you …" Gabriel faltered.

"No, I know. Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere right now." He stood, and this time Gabriel didn't try to stop him. "Except the kitchen. Be right back, okay?"

Gabriel watched him exit, heart pounding. Then he sprang to his feet and skidded down the hall to catch up.

Sam turned, surprised.

"It'd be dumb to leave you alone," Gabriel explained. "And just FYI: this isn't over. Angels are like elephants." He met Sam's eyes. "We never forget."

And Sam looked almost grateful.