Yes, I realised that it was more than about time that I owed you another chapter... and here it is. Read it, review it, do what you want with it, but overall: enjoy it.

-Em x

...

Chapter 9 – The Waiting

He can't tell his father or Dean that he is calling for Gabriel. First of all, they wouldn't let him out of the angel-free zone if it killed them. Secondly, they know, especially after the night before that something weird is going on, even though Sam is pretty sure they didn't know the specifics of the situation. They probably think that Gabriel hurt him. And even though it makes him sound like a teenage girl, Sam feels as though he has to agree with that evaluation. So he's standing outside in the rain, hoping that his lover will listen to him when he prays.

"You probably don't really want to talk to me right now," Sam begins, in a small voice, feeling as stupid as he always does when talking to thin air. "But this is something that we kind of need to sort out. We need help. There are reports of angels everywhere and we don't know where to go next." His voice echoes slightly against the backdrop of the empty scrap yard, even though he's trying to keep his voice low. He's a fair distance from the house, but its occupants are trained hunters with keen ears. This part of their alliance is none of their business.

He waits for a few minutes, still as a statue while icy water dribbles into his hair and down the back of his neck. No one appears, and there's no telltale sound of wings amid the sound of the raindrops pounding against broken, rusty metal. Sam continues; he knows the Archangel can hear him, even if he's choosing not to reply. "I know that you're freaking out, but that's normal. You don't think I'm freaking out too? I get that it's hard, after... after what happened between you and your brothers. I don't know the whole story and I'm not a shrink, but I don't have to be to see that you have serious issues." Quickly, he glances behind himself to check for Gabriel, thinking that he hears a noise, but sees nothing so returns to his monologue.

"I mean, I get that part. After everything, I totally get that part. I don't want to love you. It's weak and it will put either one of us, or both of us, at a disadvantage. That doesn't mean that I'm going to deny that I'm falling in love with you, because I'm done with lying. I lied to Dean about Ruby, and the demon blood, and look where that put me. I'm trying to be honest here, and if you can't handle that, we're done." Sam shifts uncomfortably, taking a deep breath. He hadn't meant to make an ultimatum, but he isn't about to take it back. Everything he just said is true, as much as he wants to deny it. "I honestly didn't think you were a coward for running away from your family, not really." He looks up at the sky, even though he knows Gabriel isn't in Heaven; he's probably as far from it as he can get. "But running away from me does make you a coward. The only person you're protecting now is yourself."

Nothing. Not even a whisper of an answer carries to Sam, and he's left wondering if Gabriel can even hear him at all. Of course, he can. He's just denying the meaning behind Sam's words. Tensing, the hunter turns, intending to stride inside to contribute to the increasingly violent spit-balling session the rest of his family is involving themselves in.

"Sam." Stiffening, Sam's hand closes around the hilt of Ruby's knife; the low, gravelly voice behind him is most definitely not Gabriel's. Internally he curses himself, and he turns back, knowing exactly who he's about to see – it's strange hearing it, but he does recognise that voice. He'd know it anywhere.

"I didn't hear you come out, Dad." John knew that Gabriel is an angel. He knows that Sam's not telling him something about their alliance with Gabriel. John Winchester's a lot of things, but he isn't dumb.

"I was just-" Sam tries to explain himself, but his father interrupts him before he can start.

"I heard what you were doing." His voice is cold, and unforgiving as he watches his youngest son levelly. Sam's become compliant, now unused to facing the intimidation of John's dark stare. Despite Dean's similar mannerisms, his brother has their mother's eyes. They both do. "Are you going to tell me what's really going on here?" John's giving him a chance to lie, and explain that it isn't how it sounds, but Sam's done with that. He wasn't kidding when he said that to Gabriel – no more lies. Not to himself, or anyone else. Fidgeting, Sam glances around himself, paranoid now that everyone is listening in. He should have been more careful: he's a hunter, for God's sake! Then again, this is John Winchester, and he's one of the best damn hunters there ever was.

"I...I'm involved with Gabriel." It's easier to say than it is to explain, and Sam is fully aware of that. John frowns.

"Isn't Gabriel a he?" The suspicion is growing in his father's voice, as Sam raises his eyes, terrified, and utters a miniscule, barely audible 'yes'. He can see the moment when the penny drops and the switch flicks in his brain, lighting up a giant billboard telling him that his son's a giant faggot. Sam can see John's mouth open a little in surprise, and he cocks his head to one side, awkwardly.

"Involved, involved?" he confirms, his voice merely a wary, horrified whisper. Sam knows his father well enough to know he's fighting to keep the disgust out of his voice, and reluctantly appreciates his effort. He knows his father's opinion on the matter – it's wrong, and that's that. Then again, this is new John – John Winchester 2.0. Who knows what-

"Sam, you have to know that's wrong." Sam sighs, brokenly. Maybe not, then. The John Winchester he knew is still very much in the building.

"It's not wrong because I'm gay. And just so you know, I'm not gay," Sam tries to explain, as John recoils slightly at his choice in words. "I know I'm probably making another massive screw up like I did with Ruby, and I could really use a voice of reason right now-"

"Ruby?" John looks as though he's trying his best to patch together an incomplete timeline. "Ruby – she's the demon that... Sam!" Sam realises in a moment of complete pant-wetting terror that John knew nothing of his relations with Ruby, merely her role in Lucifer's rising. He glances around nervously, hoping for a weapon of some sort for the purposes of self defence. John's voice starts low, rising by the second to a shout. "Sam, did I teach you absolutely nothing? You never trust a demon, let alone screw one. I can understand how one can manipulate you into trusting you. Almost. Demons manipulate, we know that. But a demon girlfriend?" Sam chooses to leave out the technicality that she was more like a fuck buddy. Holding his hands out in front of him in what he hopes at least looks like a peaceful gesture, Sam attempts to calm his father.

John turns away, fingers turned in his hair as he tries to comprehend just how terrible the choices of his son were, and contemplating the full meaning of blissful ignorance.

"I know how it sounds, but... listen-" John shook his head, backing away and nearly tripping on a nearby crowbar.

"Oh no. Just keep on praying, Sam. Go ahead. I'll be inside, trying to stop the mess you've made because you couldn't keep it in your pants." Without anything further, John strides away, back towards Bobby's house, leaving Sam in an awkward and frustrating silence.

"Fuck," Sam mutters, kicking a nearby abandoned car tyre. It flops miserably onto its other side, succeeding only in aggravating him further. "Thanks for the visit, Gabriel. Let me know if you change your mind and decide to grow a pair." It's a good thing that Sam wasn't expecting his lover to respond to that, because he doesn't. Sam leaves the cars as he found them, shaking the rain from his hair as he walked. Their only ally is gone. His father once again hates him. Castiel may never wake up, and they may never solve the mystery of how to get out of their so called destiny. Lucifer had never tempted him more.

Dean is inside, methodically cleaning his guns with a deadened, empty gaze. Sam knows that gaze. Dean had that gaze for months after his return from Hell. It's not the pain that's eating him up from the inside out, despite his undeniable trauma. It's the guilt that really gets to Dean. Sam sits beside him and opens his computer, searching through his bookmarks and continuing his earlier research. It's the best he can do for Dean because it's the best that he's ever been able to do.

It seems to work though, because five minutes later, Dean is still cleaning his guns, but he's humming Metallica under his breath. And honestly, at this moment, with everything that was going on, it's the most that Sam can ask for.

...

Demons have been going missing. Not particular demons per se, but just the cretins in general. There were less recorded demonic possessions, less demonic omens, and less demon-related deaths, and while it would usually be a welcome sign to a hunter, it had the Winchesters and Bobby on red alert.

Having thought it best – the Harvelle women weren't known to stay in one place at a time, and Ellen wanted to keep her daughter as safe as possible – the hunters had agreed that they would go forth and spread the word. Someone needed to tell the hunters what was out there, why they were there and most importantly: how to kill them. Someone also needed to tell the hunters of America that although the apocalypse was their fault, the Winchesters aren't the evil sons of bitches trying to wipe them off the face of the planet. There was no one better for the job than Ellen, who had more contacts possibly than Bobby, and that was saying something.

And then of course there is John. All new and improved, entirely whole, impressive as it was, a miracle as it is, it looks pretty demonic from the outside looking in. The irony passes none of them by, but none of them say anything. There existed in the Singer household the unspoken rule that even though they all know they're fucked, it's never actually mentioned. The irony of Bobby being the most optimistic of them all doesn't pass Sam by either.

It's been almost a week since he lost contact with Gabriel. His soul and his body seem to be adamant to mourn the Archangel's absence, but his mind is keeping strong and denying them any conscious thought of Gabriel. It doesn't stop his dreams though. A welcome respite from Lucifer's reign, Gabriel no plagues his mind every time he closes his eyes. Sometimes they're hot, sticky dreams where Gabriel rides him; his eyes squeezed shut and singing his name. Other times they're nightmares of Gabriel, pinned down by an invisible force, screaming at him to leave. Both dreams are essentially the same, causing Sam to start awake, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, Gabriel's name lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Sam honestly doesn't know which dream tortures him more.

...

One day – a Sunday if any of them had bothered to keep tabs on the calendar – Bobby slams a map down on the table in front of Sam, making him jump. Halfway through eating a half-assed breakfast, Sam looks up at him, eyes wide in surprise.

"Bobby?" he asks, when he has swallowed and cleared his mouth. "You found something?" Bobby's glare says it all, so Sam turns his attention to the map before any weapons were brought to the table. Frowning, he flattened out the bends with one hand as he surveys the map of... "Wyoming?"

"Look closer, boy. Any place you recognise?" Looking closer, Sam realises that he does, with a horrible sinking feeling.

"The Devil's Gate?" he looks up, memories flashing. "The graveyard when we killed Yellow Eyes; what about it?"

"These red marks here are lightning storms and crop death." Eyes flickering over the map, Sam takes in all of the information while trying not to get the map in his cornflakes.

"The demons are congregating," he comments, grimly. "Only the strong ones though – stunt demons don't have this kind of juice." Bobby's eyes narrow.

"Spit it out, kid! If something big's happening we need to be there." Sam opens his mouth to obey but a voice answers for him.

"The Fallen." Bobby whips around so fast Sam's certain he must have caused himself an injury.

"The Fallen?" Castiel nods, walking slowly – and no doubt painfully – over to the kitchen table.

"The Fallen Angels who followed Lucifer during the first war." Silently, Sam and Bobby watch as Castel turns his attention to the map of omens. "They and the first demons are usually the only ones with enough," Castiel frowns, pausing as though he is deliberating how to say a foreign word. "Juice, to cause those effects on their surroundings." Sam feels his mouth curve into a smirk.

"It's great to see you up, man. We were worried." Castiel (predictably) cocks his head to the side curiously. The world according to Castiel is full of foreign concepts, but Sam's pretty sure even the introverted Angel can't take that the wrong way. Curiously, Castiel does not reply, sending Sam a soulful glance before slumping down into a dining chair with a very un-Castiel-esque sigh. Although Castiel wasn't in general an enthusiastic person, his lack of gusto is worrying Sam. Sharing a glance with Bobby, Sam turns back to the map in front of them. Silently, Bobby shuffles out of the room to find Dean.

"So these Fallen," Sam prompts, trying to keep the conversation away from Castiel's welfare, which is clearly a sore subject. "The Yellow Eyed demon was one of the Fallen, wasn't he?" Castiel nods with another woeful sigh, his expression so morose Sam has to do a double take. Apparently now, Castiel does expressions. Suddenly – and the feelings of his realisation is like a punch to the gut – Sam realises that their topic of conversation may be even less sensitive than the former. Glancing up at the falling angel, Sam tries to search for something inoffensive to say. He feels far too much like his brother when he says: "Want some pie?" and gestures impotently towards the apple pie on the counter.

Castiel looks at Sam, then down at the half eaten pie, then back up to Sam, before he bursts into tears.

...

Gabriel should have seen this coming. Really, he should have. A freaking Angel of the Lord, the strength of God, and he was so caught up in his teenage drama with Sam that he's lost all capability to do anything properly.

He means demons. Fucking demons got the jump on him. Sure, he could protest there were a lot of them, but in reality, there were only three. Three of the Fallen, so Gabriel doesn't know it that's better or worse. For his reputation, that is: he knows for a fact that it's so much worse for his situation.

He can see Cariel and Fachel pacing around the outskirts of the prison, knowing that if they entered they would become trapped too. But for now, Gabriel is safe, if powerless. Which isn't fun, by the way, and it's not helped by the distinct feeling that they are waiting for someone. He's running out of time, and he's running out of options. The escape attempt he had in mind had vanished the second they bound him into the circle of Enochian symbols – before they were just fences to keep the Fallen out but now they're cement walls, shutting him in.

So when Lucifer gets here, he's seriously fucked.