Title: To Weather Any Storm (4/5?)
Pairings/Characters: Gabriel, Sam, Dean, God, assorted angels. Pre-Sabriel
Word Count: 2,914
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, Angst, Wings
Spoilers: None.
Theme Music:
Author's Notes:
=0=
Two weeks after he left Sam's side, Gabriel received a prayer.
It happened routinely, usually from some Catholic schmuck wanting some intercession or another. He was venerated in their hierarchy as a saint (which was hilarious when he thought about it) and he always got feast day lip-service and general mass-target prayers. He just as routinely ignored them.
Gabriel didn't make anyone's life easier. Not even his own, apparently.
But this prayer was a beacon in the endless void of space to which he'd removed himself.
This prayer, he couldn't ignore. Wouldn't, even if you paid him in Godiva chocolate body paint.
This prayer came from Sam Winchester.
It sang through the ether, vibrating his bones with such clarity he was abruptly jolted out of his contemplation of natural ice formations on Pluto. Not hiding. Contemplating. (If he was being honest with himself, yeah, he was hiding. But after leaving Heaven, he'd developed an allergy to straight answers, and he didn't even want to give himself one.) He paused, head canted slightly, confusion and hope and fear warring for dominance in his mind. After a moment, he shook his head. Wishful thinking.
The call came again. A word. His name. Shouted into his ear as clearly as if Sam were standing next to him.
Gabriel!
It was pointless to resist. He didn't even try. Didn't even want to try.
In a flutter of wings, Pluto was once again an uninhabited rock.
=0=
Sam wasn't sure when his life had turned into an episode of Touched By An Angel, but somewhere along the line, it had. Maybe it always had been, but he'd just been too blind to see it before now.
He paced in his motel room restlessly, swiping a hand over his face. His cell phone buzzed, but he ignored it. Dean was dead, and Bobby never called him, so that left Ruby as the only other person to have his number. And he really didn't feel like dealing with her poorly-concealed attempts at getting him to turn himself into some inhuman demon-killing machine.
The idea was tempting, very tempting and, if Sam were being honest with himself, had he been in a different frame of mind, one he would probably have accepted. Had he been in the same frame of mind as immediately following Dean's death, there wouldn't have been a question. Anything to hunt down the bitch that had taken his brother from him. Anything to lash back against Hell's army. Anything to kill a demon.
But he wasn't in that frame of mind, and hadn't been for some time. He should have felt alone. He should have felt abandoned. He should have felt soul-crushing loss and grief and fury. And he might have, if not for the dreams.
Sam didn't dream of peaceful forests. He didn't dream in ribbons of sunlight, voices of wind, songs of birds. He didn't dream of warm light and overwhelming love. His dreams were dark and dreary. His fire was terrifying and burning, not cheery and welcoming. He dreamed in blood and gunsmoke, not water and cloud.
Gabriel had done something to him, and Sam wanted to know what.
Sam plunged his hands into his hair, wanting to pull it out by the roots. Where the hell was that feathered menace, anyway? Everything he'd read indicated angels heard every prayer directed their way. He'd spent hours researching the prayer to use, a long-winded entreaty in tongue-twisting Latin, but it seemed to have no effect. Was Gabriel just ignoring him?
Sam didn't have the patience to wait for the archangel to get his head out of his ass. He wasn't above chanting his name over and over again until he got the bastard's attention. "Gabriel!"
On the first chant, with a sound like the whisper of feathers, Gabriel was there.
Sam thought he was prepared to see him again. Thought he was able to hold onto his anger and confusion. Thought he'd be able to demand answers, stay resolute. See through his inevitable bullshit.
But meeting those golden eyes, wary and bright, made all of his preparations pointless. He was blindsided by the sharp, sudden burn of need. Instinct drove him across the room in three long strides, some undefinable urge for physical contact screaming through his head. He registered the startled look on Gabriel's face in the instant he lunged for the angel.
Wings fluttered. His arms closed on air. Bewildered, he stared at the empty space in front of him, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Had he hallucinated the angel?
The clearing of a throat made him spin around. No, not hallucinating. Gabriel was now on the other side of the room, arms crossed and a bemused look on his face. "Do we need to have a talk about personal boundaries, Sammy?"
Sam swallowed a curse and ran his hands through his hair again. This was not at all going how he planned.
=0=
Yeah, okay. He panicked. Sue him.
Sam stared at Gabriel, and Gabriel stared right back, eyebrow quirked. "I'm happy to see you too but I don't really do clingy."
Sam ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. "What the hell did you do to me?" He sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. "I'm supposed to be pissed. I was pissed." He raised his head and leveled a baleful glare at Gabriel. "You did something. What did you do?"
"Nothing recent comes to mind." Technically true. Sam had done it all.
Sam started pacing and Gabriel eyed him warily, ready to blink away again if Sam came at him again. Sam couldn't touch him, or he'd be completely undone. "I don't buy it," Sam said. "My brother's torn apart by a hell hound right in front of me. I should be a wreck."
Gabriel arched an eyebrow, glancing around the motel room. There were empty beer cans, discarded take-out containers. The garbage can was nearly full, the bed barely slept in. Books and papers strewn everywhere. Clipped articles tacked onto walls, along with handwritten notes. A laptop computer sitting half-open and abandoned on the table, next to a cell phone. Obviously not the room of a man right in the head. "And this is you well-adjusted and coping? Are you in therapy? Because I think your shrink owes you a refund."
"Can you be serious for a moment?"
"I can, yes. But it makes me break out in hives. If I develop a rash, you have to rub lotion on me." It was out of his mouth before Gabriel's mental filter caught it.
Sam, apparently ignoring it, stopped right in front of him. Gabriel took a step back, but all Sam did was stare at him with those lost puppy-dog eyes. "You're an angel."
"Archangel. There's a difference."
Sam waved a hand impatiently. "Whatever. You're an archangel."
Gabriel nodded. "Yes."
"With wings."
"Yes."
"Halo? White gown? Harp?"
"I'm neither a tree topper nor a hippy, Sam." Sam's eyes bored into him, and Gabriel sighed. "Technically, it's a crown of fire, white gowns are for brides and babies, and I'm not really all that musically inclined." No need to bring the Horn into it. Not that Gabriel knew where it currently was anyway. "Satisfied?"
Sam paced some more, hands shifting from behind his back to in his hair to scrubbing his cheeks. He looked intensely lost in thought. Gabriel really wished he knew what was going through Sam's mind, but the only way that would happen was if they touched again. And that was not something Gabriel wanted to do accidentally or lightly.
The silence stretched on, and Gabriel shifted from foot to foot. "Was that all you wanted? Fashion and music tips for the celestially-inclined? Am I free to flutter back to my fluffy cloud now?"
Sam blinked, and Gabriel wondered if he'd forgotten he had company. He certainly looked startled to be reminded he wasn't alone. Maybe if he just…
No. He had to stay away from the big lumbering lummox. No touching the human. Bad archangel. Bad archangel.
"Why?" Sam burst out, and Gabriel skipped back out of reach of a waving arm. "Why did you step in front of me when Lilith had me pinned? Why did you help me? Why did you… leave when I told you to, and come back when I asked you to? Where have you been all this time? Why aren't there angels keeping demons locked up where they can't hurt anyone?"
Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. How was he going to get out of this? "Those are questions with big, complicated answers, kid. You sure you want to know?"
Sam nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees. He watched Gabriel so intently Gabriel got the sudden mental picture of a hound dog focused in on a treat waving in front of his nose. "One at a time," Sam said. "First, why did you save me from Lilith?"
Figures he'd start with the one question Gabriel wanted to avoid answering at all costs. He considered how to phrase it, and decided to go with the bare minimum. "Because I wanted to. I was there, you were there. You weren't exactly kicking ass and taking names, so I decided to help you out. I was always a sucker for damsels in distress."
Sam's eyes narrowed, but he let it slide. "So why you? Why not some other angel?"
"That one, I can't answer. There aren't any other angels, arch- or otherwise, wandering around on good old planet Earth anymore. It's just me. If I had to guess, they're all buttoned up nice and tight in Heaven, sitting on their clouds, playing their harps, munching on popcorn while the world goes to shit below them."
Whoa. He never realized he could sound that bitter.
Sam was quiet for a moment. "So where's God in all this?"
Uh oh. Now he knew what he was going to sound like. "Dad fucked off a very long time ago, left all us latchkey kids to play loud music, throw wild parties and burn the house down." Yep. Still royally pissed, even if God had been making vague overtures of late. "Where did he go? Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better, since I stopped giving a shit about the same time he abandoned us all."
Sam straightened, taken aback by the venom and the vehemence. "You sound angry," he said, tone neutral.
Gabriel barked a short, sharp laugh. "You should know what it's like to have an absent father you don't understand," he said, and instantly regretted it, because Sam's expression shuttered at the reminder of John Winchester. He shifted his weight again, a habit of discomfort he was really starting to hate. "Sorry," he muttered.
Sam shook his head. Gabriel really hoped Sam wasn't going to continue to press him on the God issue, because he was pretty sure he'd use up all of Sam's natural life span if he really got started on his family. "Why can't you go get Dean? You said it was out of your power, but… You're an angel."
"Arch—you know what? Never mind. Technically speaking, it's not out of my power. But I can't just play tourist in Hell any time I feel like it. I have to be commanded to go. And I think we just covered why that ain't gonna happen any time soon."
Sam nodded, and his eyes slid away, lost in thought. Gabriel permitted himself to relax marginally. Sam was buying it. Not that he was lying, but there were fairly large chunks of truth he was leaving out. He had just about convinced himself he was out of jail free when Sam's head rose with a suspicious, sharp expression that dropped the bottom out of Gabriel's stomach.
"Why did you come back when I said your name?" Uh oh. "You're pretty well-known to Christians. You must hear a lot of prayers." Damn. "Surely you don't answer all of them." Double damn. "So why mine? The first time I tried it, at that."
Shit, shit, shit. It was only long, long habit that allowed Gabriel to flash his most annoying smirk, to spin a lie in his most casual, dismissive tone. "Because you're fun to torment."
Sam's eyebrows went up in clear disbelief. "Really."
"Come on, Sam. You don't really think you're all that important in the grand scheme of things, do you? Sugarplum, you're a blip on my radar. A footnote in my day planner. A fleeting fancy that I'll get tired of and kill sooner or later." His mouth was running away with him again, and he abruptly shut it.
Sam stood, and Gabriel really didn't like that look on his face. He'd seen it before, most recently right before Sam lunged for him. "I don't believe you."
He snorted, but panic began fluttering in his chest. "Someone thinks mighty highly of himself. C'mon, Sam. You're a passing interest, one rapidly boring me."
"Uh huh. Sure." Sam took a step forward. Gabriel took a step back. "Why don't you want me to come near you?"
Well, that one was easy, and it had that necessary ring of truth Gabriel desperately needed right now. "Um, let me think. Maybe because you've tried to kill me? You think I'm going to let you anywhere near me when you might have some sharp piece of wood you want to shove into my chest?"
Sam shook his head, and took another step forward. Gabriel took another step back. "It wouldn't work anyway."
"Yeah, but it still hurts!"
"I don't believe you." Another step, and Gabriel backed into the wall so unexpectedly he yelped and jumped. Sam took advantage of the distraction and closed the distance. Gabriel whirled back, eyes wide and, as Sam reached for him, he threw up his arms and threw up his power and stopped Sam, just barely, from touching him.
"Come on," Sam taunted, held at bay less than an inch away by only Gabriel's wavering will. "You could throw me across the room. You could throw me to the moon. If you didn't want me here, I wouldn't be here. I'd be in a wormhole, or on the other side of the world, or spinning somewhere in outer space."
True, true and true. Not that Gabriel would admit to it.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Please."
"Then what is it? What possible reason could you have for not wanting me anywhere near you?"
Gabriel frantically racked his brain, but came up blank.
"Why am I dreaming of meadows and sunlight and you?"
He started, so badly the barricade slipped and Sam's hand closed on his wrist and Gabriel was suddenly done resisting.
Light bloomed, and wings stretched, and muscles relaxed and he could feel Sam's loneliness and longing and confusion and this time the connection went both ways and Gabriel tried to exert some measure of control over what Sam was receiving, but he had no experience with this kind of connection and trying to catch his memories was like trying to catch and hold rain and things kept slipping through his fingers and he didn't know if it was Sam or him that registered pleasant surprise at finally knowing what peace felt like and it was all so much but so right and maybe this was what God had intended all this time but he was tired oh so very tired of fighting and it felt so good to let go and he wasn't even sure which he he was anymore and his brain shut down all higher function under the pressure of the tidal wave of information and for the first time ever he simply just was.
=0=
They lay tangled together, Sam curling his massive frame around Gabriel, who mantled his wings around them both. The angel's fingers drifted idly through his hair, made more accessible by the fact that his cheek seemed glued to Gabriel's chest. He wasn't sure how they'd gotten onto the bed, or exactly what had happened, but he'd never been so comfortable or felt so loved in his whole life.
"You alright there, Sammy?" The archangel sounded as tired and content as he felt. Sam wanted to tell him he was, but that would be a lie. He didn't consider lying to Gabriel an option anymore.
"Dean's dead," he whispered, and the muscle in his jaw worked.
"I know," came the soft response, and the feathers pressed closer.
Winchesters didn't cry. That had been drilled into his head almost as long as he could remember. No matter what, Winchesters didn't cry. Broken bones, burns, cuts, scraped knees, bites, concussions, illness, death of friends, death of family. Winchesters stood stony-faced through all of it. Sam heard his father's voice in his head, rationalizing it all under showing weakness.
But with Gabriel's thumping under his ear, Gabriel's wings enveloping him, Gabriel's fingers in his hair, those reasons seemed silly. Ridiculous. There was no monster here, but the echo of his father's voice. No one to point out weakness.
His eyes stung. "Dean's dead."
"I know," Gabriel murmured.
He swallowed convulsively. "Dean's dead," he said, and he had zero control over the tears anymore. But it was okay, because there were no monsters here anymore, and Gabriel would squish to a bloody pulp anyone who tried to prove otherwise.