"So let me get this straight," Bobby started cutting through the silence that had descended on the room, frowning at the Archangel sprawled out on his sofa like he owned the place. "You have to move back in for a while because Raphael is on the attack and his most likely target is the Winchesters and anyone who ever breathed the same air as them. All the while we have to carry on pretending that you're the Trickster that killed Dean thousands of times at the mystery spot, who Sam consequently killed, only for you to have miraculously survived. Again. And have returned in the hopes of helping us kill this real Trickster."

"That's about the size of it," Gabriel nodded, approving of the quick summary.

"Well I'm glad the plan is clear and simple," Bobby muttered sarcastically. "Remind me why you can't just change things back to the way they were?"

Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to explain this?" he grumbled sitting forward on the sofa and spreading his hands in front of him. "Tricksters are fairly low creatures in the supernatural hierarchy. Powerful and imaginative hell yes, but smart? Mm, they're not winning any Nobel prizes. However, they're very good lie detectors. Sam could have argued his innocence about me until the day he dies but if he doesn't believe it, then a Trickster won't either."

"What difference would that make? Surely it doesn't matter what Sam believes if the Trickster already knows the two of you are connected," Cas interjected from his position leant against the doorway.

"You'd be surprised. Tricksters are under almost as strict rules as we were," Gabriel explained. "I mean I could bypass them fairly easily for obvious reasons. But the others, they can't do anything unless the person knows their wrongdoing. Sam knew my wrongdoings and so was an acceptable, if a little taboo, target through which to get to me because he almost rewarded me by not killing me for it. That's punishable in itself. Confronting an Archangel about his past crimes is never a good plan. You see?"

There was a short pause as Bobby processed what Gabriel had just said. "I see that Trickster justice is messed up," he retorted eventually.

Gabriel shrugged. "You knew that anyway. I tried not to get so wrapped up in the red tape of it all."

"But what about after this is over?" Castiel asked, regarding his brother intensely.

Gabriel licked his lips and exhaled through his nose loudly. "Nothing changes," he stated, looking away. "That bitch isn't the only Trickster out there and she isn't the meanest by far. I'm not going to risk it," he leant back on the sofa and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Besides now that Raphael's made his position clear, I've got bigger fish to fry once this is done with."

"How are you planning to get this done with?" Bobby asked after a short, heavy silence.

Gabriel gave a teasing scowl. "I don't know why you're looking at me; I'm just the hired muscle now."

Bobby glared at him before shaking his head, deciding it wasn't worth it. "Well Sam mentioned a while back that he used a ritual to try and summon you back at the mystery spot. We could try that even if it didn't double up as an Archangel whistle."

Gabriel shook his head. "That ritual wouldn't have worked anyway, even if I was one of them. He didn't have the right ingredients."

"What else would be required?" Cas asked, his intentions clear in his tone.

Gabriel waved a hand. "It's something gotten directly from the Trickster Cas. We can't find the Trickster in the first place so that option is out."

Bobby groaned softly. "Is there any rituals that actually work?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Like I said, I tried to stay on the fringes of their society."

"Well aren't you helpful," the old hunter grumbled, turning his chair away and wheeling over to one of the old bookshelves, prepared to begin the no doubt very long search for any kind of information that might help them.

When Dean and Sam returned later that night, the three of them were still buried in the research. The Winchesters joined in immediately, even if Sam was still somewhat wary of working so closely with what he saw as one of the more powerful enemies that they had faced. This was both made better and worse by Gabriel's insistence on disappearing at random intervals for unknown periods of time. 'Checking up on a few connections,' Gabriel had explained when Sam demanded to know where he kept going. He was actually making quick rounds of the area and meeting up with various angels on his own side of the heavenly civil war for plans and reports. But of course he wasn't going to be announcing that business to Sam and Team Archangel Undercover.

The research continued fruitlessly into the night. They could find no rituals of summoning nor tracking that they could plausibly use in any of the lore than Bobby kept in his library and the internet was no more helpful. Not only that, but the Trickster herself seemed to have gone underground. There weren't even any killings that they could use to track her position.

It was well past 2am when the air of desperation had finally built to a point where the research was abandoned for the night. The three humans each retreated to their beds and Castiel insisted on taking a watch, arguing that Gabriel should allow himself at least a short respite if he truly planned on eventually going up against Raphael. After a long debate, Gabriel finally agreed but made sure that Cas would return for help at the slightest threat.

Once his brother had gone, Gabriel found himself alone in the house that he had seemed to spend a lot of his time in not so long distant times. He could see why the Winchesters were so fond of having a semi-permanent home. Taking a deep breath he glanced up at the ceiling, knowing full well that Sam, his Sam, was sleeping directly above him; or at least trying to. It was only an hour or so later that footsteps crossed the landing and began to descend the stairs.

Sam rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as he reached the ground floor, having decided that sleep wasn't on the cards tonight. He'd been trying for the past hour but it wasn't working so well. There was just too much on his mind, which wasn't helped by the new found information in the form of two feathers found tucked under one of his pillows. The whole thing was getting more and more tangled. With a stifled yawn, Sam pushed his hands back into the pockets of the loose sweat pants he wore for sleeping and thumbed the feathers he had found. They were inexplicably comforting.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Sam flinched as he entered the kitchen to find the short Trickster stood on his tip toes to search through the cupboards above the countertop.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, frowning.

The Trickster continued to rummage through Bobby's cupboards. "I'm training next year's child chess prodigy. Why? What are you doing?"

Sam folded his arms across his chest. "Can't you just create whatever you want out of thin air?"

"Yeah, but it never tastes quite right. Human food is always better," he continued, searching fruitlessly through Bobby's limited supplies. "What are you doing up anyway? Have a bad dream?"

Sam scowled at the Trickster's back. "What's it to you?"

The Trickster turned to meet it, holding his hands up in surrender, one of them now clutching a bar of chocolate that looked like it came from the nineties. "All right, no need to get snappy with me, just trying to make conversation," he sniffed and lowered his hands, unwrapping the candy. "Besides, probably better to keep it all bottled up, that's what all the experts say anyway."

Sam raised an eyebrow as the Trickster hopped onto the counter and sat there, swinging his legs as the two of them eyed each other. "You want me to pour my heart out to you? A monster who messes with people for fun."

The Trickster frowned defensively and pouted a little as he took a bite of chocolate. "I'm a monster who gives people what they deserve," he shrugged with a smirk. "The fun is just a bonus."

Sam scoffed.

"Hey, I'm just trying to change the world one little problem at a time."

"And you're saying I'm a problem."

"I'm saying you've got them," the Trickster replied, pointing the chocolate like a baton before shrugging again and taking another bite of it. "But hey, what do I care? I'm only a monster. I'm sure Dean has an absorbent shoulder to cry on. Mine's a bit low down anyhow."

Sam gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. "Yeah, right, Dean isn't exactly the best listener."

"So you are looking for a sympathetic ear."

"Why? Are you offering?" Sam snapped back airily.

"No, I'm just pointing out the fact I was right," he flashed a grin and finished his chocolate.

Sam glared at the Trickster for a long moment. He hadn't expected talking to him face to face to be so easy. Even that short exchange, he found himself not wanting the conversation to end. Something about his manner, his constant cheer was something that Sam had to admit was contagious; it drew Sam to him like a moth to a flame. With a snort, Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts. Whoever had messed with his head had done a damn good job of it. After a long moment of watching the Trickster hop off the counter and begin another search of the food like some hungry child, Sam released a long sigh and asked himself once again why he was about to do this.

"Can I ask you something?"

The Trickster turned, one hand still in the cupboard as though laying claim to it, raising a lazy eyebrow at him. "Milk works really well."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"You weren't going to ask about the secret to my luscious hair?" the Trickster asked, tossing his head back in emphasis.

"Um, no, that's not what I wanted to ask…"

The Trickster made a disappointed noise before turning to fully face him, arms crossed across his chest. "No one ever asks about the hair. So what was it you wanted?"

Sam regarded the Trickster for a long moment before licking his lips and letting his arms drop to his sides. "Is there someone who's not here that should be?"

Conflict seemed to pass across the Trickster's face but it was so fleeting it could well have been Sam's imagination since the derision that replaced it was obvious. "You mean apart from a psychiatrist? Or perhaps men in white coats?"

Sam sighed and looked to the floor. "Well it was a long shot…"

The Trickster tilted his head, a new look in his eye. Was that pity? "Why are you asking anyway?"

Sam swallowed and lifted his head with a shrug. "Because it feels like there should be?" he answered then rubbed a hand over his face when a raised eyebrow from the Trickster demanded further explanation. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Because you'll probably never see me again after this," the Trickster replied flatly. "Won't be any awkward car journeys or therapy Dean-style involving a shotgun and three bottles of the cheapest whisky on the planet. There is a whole host of reasons really."

Despite himself, Sam chuckled and conceded the point.

"Besides anything I can do to get in on the Winchesters good side is a plus. Pretending to be staked is one hell of a hassle."

"Don't push it," Sam muttered, lowering himself into a nearby chair, finding himself surprisingly at ease. "Dean and I still argue about how you did that."

The Trickster smirked. "I doubt you meatheads would be able to guess. But we're not here about me," he lifted a hand and snapped, producing a glass of milk on the table next to Sam.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What? It's warm."

Sam shook his head in exasperation, fighting the smile on his face and ignoring the glass.

Once Sam's smile died, a heavy atmosphere descended. The Trickster broke the silence that threatened before it had a chance to smother them. "So you gonna walk me through that melon of yours?"

Sam licked his lips and looked to the floor. "That's kind of the thing. I don't think I could if I wanted to. From what I can stick together, when I was with your friend, she did something my head. Or at least someone did. I don't remember the week before it and a ton of random memories are just gone. Hell I don't even remember how we stuck Lucifer back in the cage. I mean you don't just forget something like that."

The Trickster shrugged nonchalantly. "Human minds are as easily broken as glass in a tumble dryer. With enough pounding they shut down and close off. Push too far and they shatter completely. Gets kind of annoying when you press too hard on someone and they forget the lesson you're trying to teach them."

Sam wasn't smiling this time.

"What makes you so sure that someone is missing anyway?" the Trickster asked, gaze now focused and intense.

"It's the only thing I can find that might link what I'm missing," Sam explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "There's a load of little things that I'm not sure if they're just my imagination or not. Like I wake up in the middle of the night and panic because I'm on my own. When I'm on my computer I'm constantly on edge because I'm just waiting for someone to come up behind me," he stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "I just miss someone; all the time."

"How can you miss someone if you don't know if they actually exist?" the Trickster asked, but his tone wasn't the scathing and mocking one that Sam was expecting.

Sam gave a weak chuckle. "I was wondering the same thing."

There was a short pause as the Trickster seemed to contemplate what Sam had said. Who'd have thought the guy could be a good listener? A couple of minutes passed before the Trickster took a deep breath and turned back to the cupboards.

"You'd think he would have thought of that," he commented lightly, once again rummaging for food.

"Yeah tell me about it," Sam muttered about to bury his forehead in his hands when a thought occurred to him and he frowned at the Trickster. "Hang on, he? Do you know something?"

The Trickster froze momentarily before continuing his search. "No," he answered firmly, not turning around.

"Then how do you they're a he?"

The Trickster shrugged silently.

"Please," Sam begged. "All I want is answers."

The Trickster shook his head as he turned. "I'll give you some advice for free. Forget about it."

"That's the problem!" Sam sat forward a bit in his chair. "I already did. And whoever made it happen did a piss-poor job in my opinion. I clearly didn't want to forget, and now it's happened, I want it back."

The Trickster took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. "Fine. Yes I know who it was but don't look so damn hopeful, I'm not about to tell you who it was."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because the guy's a douchebag," the Trickster spat back, sudden anger lining his features. "He lords over everyone like some kind of emperor, manipulating and twisting people into doing what he wants. All the while, he goes off on his own little wanderings shirking every single responsibility he ever had because of cowardice. And whilst he's off enjoying his life he leaves a path of pissed of acquaintances behind him. But since he doesn't face up to them, people get hurt because of it. People he loves get hurt," the Trickster sighed and looked away. "This is possibly the first good thing he's ever done."

Sam frowned thoughtfully as he studied his hands. The outburst was unexpected but at least now he had some kind of answer; at least it wasn't just his imagination. After a while he licked his lips. "He can't have been that bad," he ventured, drawing a questioning eyebrow from the Trickster. "I mean I loved him right?"

The Trickster's throat bobbed as he swallowed and looked to the floor. "Yeah…well that was the impression he got anyway."

Another silence stretched out between them until Sam returned one hand to his trouser pocket and remembered what was there. "Was he an angel?"

The Trickster frowned. "An angel? That's pretty specific."

Sam withdrew his hand and presented the clasped in his fingers. "Well I found these in my bed."

The Trickster stared at the feather for a long moment before raising his eyebrows. "Maybe you shouldn't be bringing home the golden goose," he retorted sarcastically.

Sam ignored the comment, focused on the feather. "He was wasn't he?"

The Trickster took a deep breath. "Yeah. Not that changes anything. Have you met the angels? Most of them are complete dicks. Cas being the only exception. So I'd drop the whole subject, kick far away and turn and walk in the opposite direction if I were you."

"But you're not me," Sam replied, simply. "Can't you -"

"I said drop it!"

Sam snapped his mouth shut at the force of his words and gazed pensively at the floor for a long moment before fixing his eyes on the Trickster again, even if the guy had turned away already. "Hey, if you ever see him again, could you tell him? Tell him I miss him?"

Gabriel screwed his eyes shut but didn't turn. He simply waited silently as Sam stood and left the room. Only once the Winchester's footsteps sounded from the room above him did Gabriel find the strength to run his hand through his hair and drop into the seat that Sam had just vacated; if only to feel Sam's comforting warmth.

So this chapter was slightly longer than the others. Not sure why, it just happened…Neeway, as usual I really hope you're enjoying this fic and this chapters

Let me know what you think of it!

xxxx