Gabriel stumbled forward as he landed. His wings were obviously a bit cramped, and running on a tank of fumes certainly wasn't helping (let alone his lungs' inability to take in oxygen). Pain was radiating from his sternum as his chest heaved, his throat felt as if it was swelling shut, and his body was still reeling from the 'fight or flight' decision it had just made. He could hear Sam's voice repeating welcome to the team over and over and over again, like a drum battering against his skull. There would be no teams, no fighting, no saving the world, no Michael. Definitely no Michael. Welcome to the team. Then her face, her mask of indifference; of all the millions of times he'd imagined seeing her again, that hadn't been one of the scenarios. As the image of her tired and defeated face passed before his eyes, he felt that invisible grip around his chest tighten even further, causing him to audibly wheeze and gasp. Everything burned and tensed as he drew air in through his gaping mouth. That was when he realized, he had no idea where he was.
Fear ran through him and he whimpered through his closed off lungs, eyes wide as he whipped his head from side to side. There was no one. He was in the middle of the road, on his hands and knees, surrounded by darkness. The pavement was rough against his hands and feet, cold and far too similar to the cement of his cell. He could practically feel the heat of hell on the back of his neck, Asmodeus' footsteps echoing in his ears.
"Liv?" he whimpered, calling out to who he knew wasn't there, "Please.."
Tears flooded his eyes as he cried out, longing for a hand to pull him up, for arms around his neck and fingers in his hair. He'd forgotten everything about her. If only he could remember the smell of her messy brown waves, or the sound of her voice as she sang into the wind, maybe he'd be better. But he didn't. He'd been able to keep a fragment of one precious memory alive, and he brought himself back there. He reminisced to the shores of Belize, to those coveted five minutes he'd refused to be robbed of through all these years. And as he recalled the warm ocean waves licking against his toes, he dragged one leg forward, slowly crawling his way back to her.
The road stretched out infinitely in front of her, illuminated only by the headlights of her dad's 1977 Charger. Her anger was still alight, making her foot a little heavier than it should have been as the car topped out at 105, racing into the black abyss. As she had suspected, Sam hadn't made leaving the bunker a pleasant experience. Guilt tripping her into finding Gabriel and bringing him back, it wasn't going to happen. One, she'd never be able to find him, not if he didn't want to be found. And two, just, no. At this point guilt was unavoidable, so the option that fit best into her own conscience was the one that was winning. And right now, that was keeping Gabriel away from the Winchester duo. But none of that even mattered, because Gabriel was in the wind, literally.
Her brain wouldn't calm down, the events of the last twenty four hours racing through her mind, unable to focus on one coherent thought. The world was ending and the love of her life was back after nine years, then gone again even faster than he'd come. Oh yeah, not to mention the reigning king of hell had been roasted five feet away from her and there were alternate universes. As her adrenaline rush faded, all she wanted was him, and at the same time, she wouldn't know how to react if he were there. He'd run off, yet again. Never before in her life had she so desperately wanted to shut herself away and never come out.
"You shouldn't drive so fast," a familiar voice scolded from the backseat, causing her to scream and veer into the, thankfully empty, left lane.
"Fuck! What the FUCK dude?!" she huffed, throwing her eyes over her shoulder to see Gabriel guzzling 200 year old whiskey straight from the bottle.
Just as quickly as she'd righted the car, she jerked the wheel clockwise, screeching the old coupe onto the gravel beside an empty field. Knuckles white as she gripped the wheel with both hands, she clenched her teeth, refusing to turn her head and look at him. Through her rear view mirror she could see he was sitting silently with his back against the door of the car, legs stretched out along the seat in front of him, nursing his whiskey bottle. He'd changed his clothes, now in a navy blue button down and jeans. He said nothing.
"What're you doing here?" she finally asked, softly.
"Do you not want me here?" he responded, his voice heavy yet emotionless.
"I honestly don't know."
Her words stung as she said them; she wished she could reach out and grab them as they left her lips, shove them back down her throat and choke on them. She chided herself for her quick temper and pettiness, forcing herself to turn and look at him. He'd turned his eyes towards her, red and inflamed. Obviously the angel had been crying before he'd popped into her backseat, and that heaviness that had slowly been filling her multiplied exponentially. His hair was ruffled, falling messily into his face instead of his typical neatly slicked back look. His mouth was down-turned and defeated. He looked meek and weary; he looked desperate.
"Can you... can you not leave, please," she pleaded, locking her eyes with his. "I'm going to stop at the first place I see."
His face remained unchanged; his only response was taking another long, gulping swig from his bottle.
"Promise?" she sighed, not ready to spend what little emotional energy she had left on nothing.
"Yeah, yeah, I promise," he answered after two more mouthfuls, "...but I'm gonna need a refill."
The knot in his chest had only grown. The tightening was returning, his throat burning once again. Not even this whiskey was helping the pain that radiated from his heart. What if she never forgave him? Honestly, he wasn't sure which version of hell would be worse: the real one, or the one where he walks the same world as her, but she doesn't want to share it with him.
They drove along in silence, even the radio was emitting nothing more than a faint static white noise, the rumble of the engine trapping them each in their own thoughts. Empathy had never been her strong suit. She was cold and jaded, too many years of seeing the true evil this world had to offer and the destruction it caused. She didn't even know where to start in helping Gabriel, but she knew she had to. No, she wanted to. This wasn't a matter of duty or responsibility, this was the man she loved, and he needed her. He had chosen her, and her alone, and her him. There were no facades or acts, this was real, raw emotion. This had consequences, but that didn't make it any easier.
Finally, she pulled into the lot of an inn two and half hours outside of Lebanon, Kansas. It was quaint, settled back into a small patch of woods, and the lot was empty. As she pulled up to the office, she turned once again to look at Gabriel, his eyes distantly staring off out the rear window, fingers tapping anxiously against his now empty bottle. She didn't want to leave him alone, her brain screaming at her to not let him out of her sight for one second.
"Come on," she urged, the door creaking as she pushed it open, the cool night air refreshing her as it hit her face.
"What?" Gabriel snorted, watching her as she walked around to the passenger side and kicking the seat forward to let him out of the back seat.
As she extended her hand out, he felt that ever present knot loosen. Perhaps she hadn't given up on him yet after all. When her fingers laced through his and guided him out of her car and into the night air, it was the most normal he'd felt in a very long time, but contentment was still a long ways away. He was so unsure of everything, but he knew he loved her. That was certain.
The way he looked at her was killing her, eyebrows furrowed, eyes still swollen, shoulders slumped forward, the larger than life angel seemed smaller now, more reserved, surrendered. The way he seemingly tried to hide in plain sight, keeping his eyes down, arms in tight, a stark opposite to the space-commanding, attention-grabbing presence he'd always been. She didn't know what to do. How does one broken person fix another?
"Let's get a room," she whispered, tugging his hand towards the doors to the office.
There was nothing left in him to resist. He followed along, gripping her fingers tightly. As she checked in, he didn't hear a thing, but she kept her fingers wound with his, working around her tasks with one hand. He knew he needed to shake this off, to right himself, but at the moment he was too exhausted, too desperate for comfort. The last time he could remember being this spent was after helping Dad shove the Darkness into her cell. But that was a different tired, this was the kind of tired that even if he laid down to rest, he wouldn't be able to. There was too much hanging in the balance, too much he needed to figure out.
"What's wrong with him? Looks like he's been through hell," the check-in clerk commented as Liv grabbed the small gold key from him.
"Ha," she scoffed, he had no idea. "Yeah, rough past few days. Thanks."
She sighed in relief when they reached room number seven. The farthest spot from the road per, her request. It was nicer than most she'd been in recently, peaceful and cozy looking. It almost resembled a room you'd find in a small cottage. White and clean, she imagined it was probably very bright in there when the sun was up. There were no weird smells or vermin running around, this was practically five star.
Gabriel had pulled away as soon as the door closed and immediately sat on the bed, throwing his head into his hands. She was at the end of her rope, it was time to admit that she had no idea what she was doing. She had no clue how to help him. Every word that passed through her mind seemed too much or not enough, half were accusing, the rest apathetic. She just wanted to tell him that she loved him, she'd said it when he was catatonic, why was it so impossible to say it to him now? Her mind wandered to those precious moments back at the Winchester's bunker, cradled in his arms once again, and he'd been what she needed so effortlessly even after everything that had happened to him. He didn't need a readjustment period, he just… knew. Yet there she stood like a bump on a log as he sat despondent. She didn't have any excuse; she hadn't endured nine years of hell and there was no torture or trauma. She was just a poor, jaded excuse for a human being, too embarrassed and scared to even attempt showing any further semblance of emotion.
"Gabriel?" she finally spoke, taking a small and cautious step towards him, resisting the selfish urge to just rebury herself in his chest like she had been hours before.
He said nothing, he didn't even flinch. This was not the same Gabriel she had always known. If she hadn't seen his wings with her own eyes she would probably doubt this was him at all. There was no eyebrow wiggling or theatrics, no tricks or grandeur, just a broken shell of his former glory. He was a whole new man, and not for the better. It felt like starting over from the beginning, she didn't know who this was. He was a stranger wearing her long lost lovers face. She had to come to terms with the fact that he would probably never be back. Not fully, anyway. It was time to accept Gabriel for who he was now, and help put back whatever missing pieces they could find, and if in the end, he was missing a few chunks of the picture, that'd be okay too. But would they ever be happy again? Were the both too far gone to get back to where they had been?
Finally, her heart won out over her brain, and she ran to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. It felt reflexive again, her subconscious kicking into gear. His body stayed rigid, his elbows still locked against his thighs as his forehead pressed awkwardly into her chest in her embrace. Her fingers instinctively returned to the now knotted hair behind his ears, raking her fingers through the honey blonde waves and he felt his breathing quicken as his chest began to ache. This feeling was becoming all too familiar now. For him, it had been one thousand years. He'd sat in hell, for one thousand years, being tortured and mutilated, fed upon and degraded. Each one hundred and twenty he'd known it was one up here on the Earth, another year that went by where he'd broken his promise. He'd lived one thousand years without her, and here she was… finally. She smelled the same, like honeysuckle and the old leather seats of her car. She felt the same, as her arms cradled him and her fingers worked their magic, and damn, did he love her all the same, too.
Exhaling a despairing groan of relief, he melted into her arms, wrapping his own tightly around her waist. He buried his face into her chest, pulling her as close as humanly possible, tearless whimpers falling from his lips as his fingertips dug into her back, desperate to be certain this was real, to reacquaint himself with every inch of her. She was the only thing that mattered, the only reason he'd had any fight at all left within him, and she was too close and too far at the same time. It was overwhelming and disheartening, he felt his body going into overdrive. When she leaned over and placed a lingering kiss onto his head, he felt one tear fall from her cheek onto his scalp, her arms tightening protectively around him and her nose still buried in his hair. This felt... good, and he wanted more.
Cautiously, he unwrapped one arm from around her and pulled his head away from her embrace. The looks in their eyes mirrored one another as they stared, only hers were filled with tears. It was apprehension and relief, all mixed into one hopeful gaze. Gently, he laid his hand on her cheek, and without a thought, she leaned her head into his touch, sighing as her eyes snapped shut from the exhilaration that one small gesture sent her plummeting into. His hand was warm and soft, exactly like she remembered, his touch still so tender and benevolent. His fingers lightly gripped around the base of her head and she heard him whisper 'I'm going to kiss you', everything snapped. Her doubts faded away. He'd given her a moment to deny him, but the thought never passed her mind.
He wasted not a second. There was no fluttering brush of his lips on hers, to ease them into it. He captured her lips hard between his as he pulled her face down to his level, and she responded just as fervently as her fingers locked into his hair, anchoring her to him. Her heart felt whole again, finally, after all these years. Moving on had been an illusion. She'd thought she was fine, over that flighty angel that had swept her off her feet, but the feeling that filled her chest at that moment proved her wrong beyond belief. It was like every molecule revved back to life, warmth washing through her, and she gave in to him completely. She was unequivocally and irrevocably his, and she would do anything for him. Lips dragged across one another gracefully, no learning curve or lapse in memory. It was effortless and fluid; it didn't feel like nine years had separated this kiss from their last. It didn't matter anymore, this was now, and they were here. It was a kiss that made her realize she'd never been this happy before in her entire life.
His hand slipped up the hem of her shirt, exploring the skin of her back, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He needed her, he could feel himself rebuilding, that aching hole he'd thought bottomless slowly filling in as her tongue ran into his mouth, meeting his with a matched frenzy. As his touch danced along her ribs and back, she unwrapped her arms, throwing her jacket from her shoulders. She'd been waiting too long to delay this any further, her primal needs were taking over. Just as soon as the leather had crumpled to the floor, Gabriel's fingers grabbed the hem of her worn tank top and ripped it over her head, his lips crashing back to hers as soon as the fabric had passed between them. He relished in the freedom his hands now had to roam, ghosting over unfamiliar raised lines of scar tissue that had formed. She felt thinner, her ribs more prominent than he thought he remembered.
The buttons of his shirt were soon being worked on by her fumbling fingers, her brain working faster than her body could keep up with. The anticipation for feeling his skin on hers too strong for coherent thought processes. Thankfully, this was nothing new, although it was slightly magnified. He aided her by working his way from the bottom and meeting her at the the fourth button, almost grinning into her lips as she shoved the fabric off his shoulders, working the rest off his arms. When her fingernails raked through the light dusting of hair on his chest he couldn't hold back the satisfied groan that reverberated through him, the sound vibrating through her mouth as their lips continued, the pace slowing, their movements growing more impassioned than frantic. She poured everything she could muster into him, hoping he could feel the things she couldn't find the words to convey.
Her hands shot down to the button of his jeans, quickly making work of the metal as he stood to kick his remaining clothing off. He returned the gesture, stripping her down until they both stood raw and naked in front of one another. He grabbed both her hands as he looked her up and down, searing the image into his once brain again. The look in his eyes killed her. Never in her life had anyone looked at her with the pure, unadulterated adoration that Gabriel did. It wasn't nerve wracking like it was with everyone else, it was almost comforting as his eyes scanned over her form, memorizing every freckle and scar. Her eyes flicked down as her cheeks flushed pink, and he smiled. Some things never changed, and for that he was glad. When he smiled, the greatest wave of relief washed over her, and she couldn't help but lean up and kiss it, her muscles mirroring his as the corners of her mouth lifted, a breathy laugh hitting his lips. She'd been waiting a very long time to see that goofy, lopsided grin, and it didn't disappoint.
With a gentle push she guided him back to the bed, garnering no resistance from the man in front of her, his mouth still pulling everything it could from hers. He sat, pulling her into his lap by her hips, shifting them both into the center of the bed, her knees straddling his thighs, but carefully holding herself out of his lap. She knew what she wanted, but the last shred of doubt in the back of her mind held her back, what if he didn't?
"I do," he feathered against her lips, his breath warm and sweet, his kiss finding her again as he dragged his nose along her cheek.
As her body sunk down onto him, he hissed, his face contorting in what appeared to be pain and she froze, her eyes growing wide in fear. He was completely overcome by the overstimulation, his nerves were hyperaware, sending burning waves throughout his entire body. It had been so long since he'd felt pleasure of any kind, and the sensation was beyond any intensity he had expected. He tried to tether himself to her, gripping at the softness of her hips, trying to feel her, to remember her. But he couldn't. Just another piece of himself he'd been robbed of, another shred of what little dignity he had left falling away.
"Oh no, I'm, I'm sorry-" she stammered, immediately trying to climb off of him, but his hands kept her rooted against him.
"Gimme a second," he breathed, reassuring her as he pressed his forehead into hers, eyes still tightly shut.
As his lips returned to hers, she was frozen, she couldn't believe that yet again her selfishness had won out. All he ever did was give, and all she had ever done was take. Her mouth stayed stiff against his, refusing to give in to his affections, she didn't deserve them. When his gestures were unreturned, he moved his lips down to her jaw, pecking as he followed the curve up behind her ear, making sure to hit the hollow behind it. This wasn't her fault, but he knew she was taking blame. Everything had begun to calm down, his body responding to the pleasure now, and he wanted her, wanted everything she was willing to give him. He lifted her hips up no more than an inch, testing his reactions, and as her body slid back down he couldn't control the euphoric whine that escaped from his throat.
"Don't-" She began, her guilt still heavy in her stomach.
"Please," he begged, his lips sloppily returning to hers. He felt it now, the deep intrinsic thirst, "I need you."
Unable to resist his pleas, she lifted herself up and dropped down again, earning a contented hum from the man beneath her, tongue running softly over her pulse point as he used his hands to grind her body into his. He relished in this feeling. For the first time in one thousand years he wasn't feeling pain, fear, anger, or betrayal. He was now filled with nothing but bliss and love and desire. He'd finally broken free, that knot untangling and the tension it had caused slowly washing away. As her hips continued their slow, methodical pace, he felt her warmth washing through him, her lips again pouring every ounce of love she had into his. Their whimpers and moans mingled in the air, his hands again roaming the skin of her ribs and back, her arms locked around his neck, one hand gently entangled in his hair. It didn't feel real, they'd both dreamed and imagined this moment for so long, it was seemingly impossible to believe they were here. They were together.
His hips lifted to meet hers as her pace quickened, she could feel his fingers gripping a little tighter, the muscles in his arms tightening around her. All she wanted was to give him relief, in any and every way. This was the only way she knew how. It felt cheap and easy, but also so damn good. Memories of the past washed through her, the effortless way he'd always been able to physically translate his love for her and she hoped he was feeling just a fraction of that from her now.
The tightness in his belly was growing, his control over himself faltering as his sounds became more desperate as he dropped his head to her shoulder. He pulled her closer to him, her chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that was cool against his overheated skin and he took in every sensation for one final moment. He knew he would never feel what he did at that second ever again, and while it hurt to remember why, it was a love he had never before known possible. Shattered and weak, all but ruined, they had overcome.
With a scream, he let the explosion of release flow through him, every muscle relaxing as he collapsed limp against her, her arms holding him strong and steady. Finally, he felt more like himself, one large piece being placed back where it belonged. He was trembling in her embrace, panting as he sorted through the jumbled mess in his head. He felt afraid to move. A few hours ago he'd begged for death and now, this reality should have been impossible to accept, but it wasn't. Memories came rushing back, missing bits of his past fighting through the darkness of Asmodeus, it was liberating as he watched his life replay before him, wrapped tightly within the arms of the one he loved above all others.
She curled herself around him completely, arms tights around her neck as her cheek rested against the back of his head, every inch of her body pressed against him. His breathing was finally beginning to settle, no longer rapid and shallow, a tranquility settling over him. He'd wrapped his arms around her waist, his face still buried in the crook of her neck.
"I missed you," she cooed, running one hand up and down his neck and head, "I missed you so much."
"I love you," he mumbled against her throat, barely even audible, the vibration of his voice against her skin shooting through her like a miniature shockwave.
Hearing him say it finally shattered through that layer of ice that had frozen over her through the years of his absence. His confession had finally rekindled what it was like to love, and be loved, the softness of those emotions. She'd all but turned to stone, but here, with him, she felt a vulnerability she'd never felt before, and never would with anyone else. She remembered the freedom that he'd shown her, because it didn't matter if her singing was terrible, or that she drank enough whiskey to knock a grown man out, he didn't care, he just wanted her, exactly as she was.
"I love you," she finally professed, pushing her face to his and kissing him softly, "so much."
"Hm," he murmured, smiling again against her lips, bigger this time, "I was getting a little worried."
She laughed, pushing him back to lying down, collapsing against his chest, keeping her gaze locked on his.
"Thought maybe you moved onto bigger and better things," he teased, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek and jaw.
"What's bigger and better than you?" she replied, dipping her head to kiss his chest, her hair falling around her like a veil.
"Bigger? Many things. Better? Well, I can't think of any, and that is not a matter of opinion."
"I need a shower, if that interests you."
"If it didn't, I'd be concerned."
This was her Gabriel. When her eyes met his again, they were bright and gold, dancing with mischief and a little bit of mystery. The corners of his lips were ticked upwards towards his eyes, the faintest sign of his dimples appearing on his cheeks, and it gave her the greatest sense of solace. Reluctantly, she rolled off of him and stood, the effects of the past day finally catching up to her. She was hungry, exhausted, and in desperate need of some decent water pressure, and more of him. He padded behind her to the bathroom, stepping into the raining warmth, arms immediately wrapping around her middle as his chest pressed into her back. As she reached her hand for the small hotel-sized bottle of shampoo, his arm came from behind her, grabbing her fingers and pulling them back to rest with his against her stomach.
"No point in getting clean just yet, sweetheart."
