Chapter 10 - No More Hiding
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Castiel has that very familiar 'the world's fucked me over and there aint a damn thing I can do about it' look on his face. It's pretty far from comforting.
Sam doesn't even know how to broach the whole Gabriel subject. John's already pissed at him, and from the fact that Dean's been short with him lets him know exactly how he feels about keeping secrets from them. It'll be even worse when Castiel finds out though. Sure, Dean would hate him, and think he's disgusting, but Castiel knows the dos and don'ts of angelic lovemaking and a demon boy wonder probably isn't high up on the list. On the other hand, Sam's pretty sure that technically there shouldn't even be a list, so he's thinks he's okay on that front. The angel wouldn't care about the gay thing, Sam suspects, like John does. But Sam is sleeping with a coward, who left the angels to live under the shadow of a grief-stricken and angry Michael, to fend for themselves. Gabriel is a betrayer, and a coward. Sam's consorting with the enemy, not screwing an ally. It's Ruby all over again, but this time, it's even worse because Gabriel's supposed to be good.
Bobby appears back in the doorway next to a breathless Dean, who has clearly dropped everything and literally run to Castiel's side. He has a smear of something black on his cheek and he smells vaguely of white spirits. Sam would wager he's been working on the car, but doesn't dare to speculate how much of the clinical smell is turpentine and what is vodka.
"Cas," the nickname dies on Dean's lips. He can see the difference between this creature and Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Castiel was timeless and complete in his belief. This thing is young, broken and scared. Sam knows from experience that there's nothing more pitiful than an Angel with broken faith. Still, Fallen Cas is raising the bar set by his older brother by just being here.
"Dean." The voice is the same when he says Dean's name, despite the undeniable fear. "What's happening to me?" Sam looks away, feeling as though he's intruding upon a private encounter, and is met by John's dark glare, from the edge of the kitchen.
"The demons," Sam reminds them all, after a few moments wherein it becomes clear that neither his brother nor the Angel is going to do anything more than stare hopelessly at each other. "They're circling around the Devil's Gate. Dean, they have the Colt. They can open it." He can't help but to look at his father, and remember that night in the graveyard, those few long years ago, when they had succeeded in doing the unthinkable, completing their life's mission – killing Azazel. For the first time in days, John doesn't have disgust in his face when he looks back.
"Then we need to stop him," John says calmly, as though he's just informing them he's popping out for milk. Then again, this was the sort of thing that John Winchester used to be good at. This was his area of expertise. "We move out tomorrow, same plan as you took the graveyard." Dean shoots his father a raised eyebrow.
"You do realise that was practically a suicide mission, right?" he checks, and the corner of John's mouth twitches upwards, epitomising the macho Winchester opinion of dangerous situations.
"How did you escape?" Castiel frowns, cocking his head to the side. Sam freezes – he had been dreading when this question was going to come up. The other hunters turn to Sam for him to answer, and he finds himself lost for words. "Logic dictates that you would not be able to escape." They all ignore as Dean mutters something his logic dictating.
"We had some help," Sam stands up tall, unable to completely hide his terror. He wrings his hands, nervously, knowing that this is the moment that it all falls apart. He wishes that he'd been able to say no the first time he allowed Gabriel underneath his skin, because he's under no illusions: Gabriel's been under his skin since day one. "Gabriel got us out." The expression on Castiel's face darkens considerably.
"Gabriel?" he repeats, just for clarification.
"Gabriel," Sam replies, just for clarification. "He's the one who saved us from Raphael. Apparently something we've done impressed him." It was the wrong choice in words, Sam realises, as his father turns to leave the room, sliding the door shut with a loud bang. Sam tries to ignore him, while Dean is clearly torn whether to follow or stay with Castiel.
"Gabriel is flawed; he is a coward." Castiel didn't need to tell Sam twice, but he kept silent and allowed him to continue. "He ran from the first war. What makes you think he isn't part of enemy ranks?" Castiel appears adamant to dissuade Sam of his trust in Gabriel. This is it. This is the part where his whole plan falls apart because all he can do is set his jaw, brow contracted, complete unable to come up with an excuse. He doesn't know why he trusts Gabriel, but he does, with his life. The horrible fact that he trusted Ruby even more. He's not going to lie to them though; his family deserve better than that.
"We don't. We don't know if he's working with, or for Lucifer. Hell, it would make sense. They are brothers, and Gabriel's influence could tip the scales very much in the Devil's favour-"
"He wouldn't serve Lucifer." The certainty in Castiel's voice makes Sam know for sure that there's a lot of information that they don't know about Gabriel. It merely solidifies the suspicion that Castiel is aware of what they don't know, and has been keeping it from them. Why, Sam couldn't be sure. "He may be working for Michael out of misplaced loyalty." Not that Castiel is bitter...
"Why wouldn't he be working for Lucifer?" Dean barks, coming forwards to stand between his brother and the angel. "And right here, right now, everyone's going to stop being so damn cryptic. Someone has something to say, then fucking say it. That includes you, dad." Sam had not noticed John's silent return, and their father scowls at his eldest son's lack of respect. "Castiel, what is it that you know about Gabriel, that we don't?"
"Gabriel defied Lucifer's choice to destroy the humans not because he agreed with our Father. He wholeheartedly wanted the destruction of the humans when they were born. However, he loved peace more than his brothers, and would not stoop to fighting, even when Michael and Lucifer divided the Heavens, and even the Healer Raphael took up a place in battle." Castiel avoids Sam's eyes, and Sam wonders if he knows which thoughts and realisations he was experiencing. "Gabriel was very much meant to be Lucifer's General, as Raphael was Michael's. However, Gabriel protested the use of violence. Lucifer banned him, and Michael, thinking that he was one of the rebels, attempted to kill him." Sam jerks back, in surprise. He didn't know that version of the story.
"So it's not his fault that he left." Unsure of exactly what Castiel's point is, Dean speaks up. He sounds guilty, as though he had wrongly judged Gabriel. Castiel's eyes immediately darkened.
"He could have stayed to fight. If he had, we might not be in this situation." When all he receives for his words are four blank stares, he explains further. "Gabriel had a very large following. He blessed us with the word of the Father, who we never met. He was the Messenger, and the strength, of our father. And he left us." Sam understands the betrayal. He agrees with Castiel. He can't bring himself to blame Gabriel for that. "And what for: meaningless, Godless dalliances on Earth with Pagans?" He spits out the word 'Pagans' like it's acid on his tongue. "There is no longer anything angelic about Gabriel."
"Then why did he save us?" It is unsurprising that John is contributing. "Sam seems pretty convinced that he's not playing us."
"We've been there before," Dean had the decency to look ashamed to bring it up, refusing to look at his younger sibling. Sam shrinks into the background, and Bobby looks to the floor. "He had no idea about Ruby – neither of us did." Sam knows he was trying to soften that blow, and is grateful for it. Dean is always the big brother, trying to protect him, from their father's blame, even though he agrees with it.
"Then the better to trust him with these decisions," John argues, and Sam freezes, wondering what his angle is. Dean appears also confused, but there's no doubting the expression on Bobby's face: he agrees with their father. And rare and occasion as it was, Sam has to ask:
"What kind of twisted logic is that?" because even he doesn't know how the hell John reached that conclusion while sober. Dark eyes seek him out, analysing his every move, and there's no less anger than there was before.
"Successes only last a few hours, but failures last a lifetime. Sam's never going to forget how he almost singlehandedly destroyed the human race." Bobby sighs – John's nothing but blunt. "He's going to remember that mistake for the rest of his life. He's never going to seek out trust again. My guess is he didn't want to trust Gabriel, like he wanted to trust the demon." He doesn't even bother to use her name, and Sam's glad. "And if I know my son half as well as I think I do then I'd go as far as to say that he never really trusted Ruby again, he just wasn't as good at the game she was playing." Sam doesn't know how much of that he agrees with, but he continues to listen to his father's odd speech, wondering briefly if he was possessed and it was Meg screwing with them again. "Doesn't matter anyway. Gabriel's not coming back." Dean's head snaps back and forth between them.
"What do you mean – why?" he asked, sharply, demanding answers faster than they were being doled out. "Will someone just tell me what the fuck you clearly all know about?"
Sam would love to say that he admits to their relationship then and there, and tells his brother the whole and undiluted truth, but he can't. His mouth opens, and nothing comes out but air. He's lying by omission, again. It's like he's started the apocalypse all over again, and there's no stopping the guilt that's piling up inside his gut. John saves him the trouble of forming coherent speech.
"Gabriel's in love with Sam." Arms spread wide, Sam stares at his father, unable to believe that even he has that little tact.
"Dude!" Dean's reaction would have been hilarious had it not been so terrifying. He mouths for a while, and leans back on the table, frowning as he attempts to order his thoughts into something that resembles sense. Bobby's expression doesn't change as the bomb hits, except the minute rising of one eyebrow. By far though, the most priceless reaction is Castiel's, who frowns and cocks his head to the side in so much likeness to his former glory that Sam finds it hilarious, before:
"You are both male," he brings his pointless observation to the attention of all four men. Dean gives a tiny, hysterical laugh, but offers no more, and Sam suspects he's in shock. Homophobia isn't even the worst part of their affair, but Sam foresees it being the main bone of contention in the arguments which are bound to follow, for lack of anything else to label the relationship with. The split second which it takes Castiel to realise the implications of it all later, he adds, still without expression: "That is not what God intended." That's all it takes and Dean dissolves into laughter, manically allowing the stress which had been building up for weeks flow out, in the most disturbing way possible. All that Sam can do is wait for his brother to finish, and hope desperately that the next words out of his mouth are not going to be: "Get the fuck away from me, freak". Instead, when he has recovered, he merely stares at his brother, with incredulity in his eyes, and asks:
"Can't you sleep with a human every now and again?" Sam swallows, and gives a half-shrug. "Seriously, that's why you've been all secretive about meeting him? You two are... yeah." Dean fixes Sam with his best 'big brother' face. "That's fucked up, Sammy."
"You think I don't know that? It just happened, okay?" Castiel is still staring at him as though he's just kicked a puppy, but Sam resolutely ignores him. "But he's not coming back."
"Why? Argument about who's on top?" Wincing at Dean's blasé attitude, Sam frowns.
"No, he's just a fucking coward." He hadn't realised when he became angry, but apparently he is now. "Now what are we going to do about Wyoming?" He hears a rustling of the map, and turns to see Bobby poring over it. "Those demons aren't going to stab themselves, and if we leave it any longer who knows how many demons are going to be topside." Although he agreed, Dean shook his head.
"We need to talk about this or something-"
"No, Dean." Sam tries to keep any doubt from entering his voice, standing up with a sense of finality. "We need to dig the world out of the mess we got it into. I'm going to Wyoming. You can follow when you get a hold on your priorities." Grabbing his duffel which was lying on the floor by the leg of the table, Sam stalks away, pissed that Dean would speak to him like that. They could go for months without so much as a whole sentence passing between them, and suddenly, when they're in the middle of a crisis, Dean wants to talk about his feelings? Sure, he's just found out that his brother's gay for archangels, and Heaven's an even more screwed up place than he had originally thought, but that is no reason for the sudden change of heart. Sam refuses outright to acknowledge that he may not want to talk not out of defiance, but rather out of complete and utter fear that when that conversation ends, so would the reliance and the close friendship they had been forming for the past five years. He doesn't think he could live with losing Dean, not after everything.
...
He can feel the second when his brother arrives. In the presence of a truly powerful inter-dimensional creature, something shifts. Hunters see the symptoms of power: electrical storms, crop failure, while Gabriel can feel the depression in the actual fabric of reality. He knows that Lucifer has arrived, and he knows that he is completely at his brother's mercy. After all of those years ago, when he swore he would never fight for the angel who he believed in the most, he had been right. Gabriel had been trying to convince himself of that for millennia, but right now, with the weight of the situation hammering down on his Grace, he couldn't find any solace in that persuasion.
"Brother." The way Lucifer speaks is magnetic, and Gabriel takes a deep breath, trying not to look up even though he desperately wishes to. He wants to see his brother, finally, after so much time has passed. Gabriel says nothing, so the Devil continues. He can hear footfalls, over the excited hisses of the Fallen who skitter reverently in his brother's wake. "I thought at first that you were dead. With all the loss in Heaven, I couldn't differentiate whose death was whose. It was only when I rose again that I realised the four were still alive." He can almost hear the smirk Lucifer wears. "And very alive you were. Not that I could find you, of course."
Sighing, admitting that there was utterly no way that he would get out of this situation, Gabriel glanced upwards, managing somehow not to wince at the mangled mess of hideous Grace that Lucifer was burning with. For one that was once so beautiful, Gabriel is having a hard time believing his brother is the blackened soul standing before him.
"You have a little..." Gabriel motions on his own cheek, mirroring the burned flesh of Lucifer's barely composed vessel. His brother looks less than amused. "and Sweet Ghandi, what have you done to your hair?" Behind Lucifer, the Fallen trade glances, unsure if he can really do that. But Gabriel thinks: what the Hell? Who's going to be coming to save him anyway? Might as well get as much sarcasm into his dying moments as possible.
"You've changed somewhat," Lucifer notes, with a slight – and surprising – smile. "But you still like your tricks." Gabriel shrugs.
"It's been said," he concedes. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods? Is it recreational or is it for a good old-fashioned racial cleansing?" Lucifer smirks.
"There's a difference?" Gabriel grimaces. "I was hoping that we could have a chat." Nervously, the younger angel shifts, very highly aware that none of his power was with him, instead being forced behind a wall by the Enochian symbols. He knows that for Lucifer to actually hurt him, he will have to either let Gabriel out of the spell, or throw things at him. Gabriel sincerely hopes it was the former so he could hightail it out of here.
"Chat away, Cathy." It is obvious from his movements that Lucfier knows Gabriel's scoping out the exits, probing at the symbols, testing how strong he is. These symbols meant a near death state to your average angel, but Gabriel isn't quite the same as the rest of them. For starters, he was still a little bit Pagan, even if Loki had died when Dean drove that steak through his chest, and these symbols don't mean shit to Pagans.
"Why are you helping the humans?" asks Lucifer, his voice soft and oddly melodic as it rings through the warehouse. It's a great empty space here, like the one that Dean and Sam had left him in. "You interfered with Michael's word."
"Does that make you angry?" Gabriel mocks, pushing against the forces holding him back experimentally. They don't budge and his brother smiles.
"Why yes, it does," the Devil replies smoothly. "You see, there are rules in this war we're fighting. You of all people know that we cannot choose, like the humans can. Instead, we can merely follow the path which is meant to be."
"You're talking about the end." The apocalypse, the rapture, you name it, they call it the end; it is what happens the Earth falls under the war between Heaven and Hell. His brothers are the commanders of Heaven and Hell… is Gabriel expected to act Earth's saviour out of literary symmetry? "And the humans are collateral damage."
"I seem to remember a time when you weren't in favour of the humans, Gabriel," Lucifer muses, dangerously, as he walks slowly in a circle around Gabriel's prison. "In which case, you'll like the next part good enough."
"Which is?" When Lucifer casts him a frown, Gabriel opens his arms wide. "Who am I gonna tell if you kill me?"
"Oh, I'm not here to kill you…" The vessel has deteriorated further since Lucifer has entered the warehouse. Any longer without drinking demon blood and his guts would be sliding down his legs, blackened and oozing. "But I suppose you're right in that you're not going to tell."
"Well that's not foreboding at all," Gabriel mutters, but his brother ignores him.
"Do you know where we are? Can you feel it?" Lucifer knows fine well the symbols mean Gabriel can't feel anything past this room, and he scowls in response. "We're in Wyoming. Nice little place… and it's here I'll find my army." Gabriel knows about Wyoming: he knows Sam's history as he's seen it in his lover's dreams. The Devil's gate.
"So you have the key?" Just for a split second, the look on Lucifer's face is enough to tell Gabriel he doesn't, but he lies anyway.
"Yes. Soon I'll have my army." Gabriel shrugs, sitting down on the floor. He's tired of standing, and it's not like it's helping his predicament.
"Soon. Why not now?" The Devil glares at him, and the thought does occur – somewhat distantly – that perhaps he shouldn't provoke the vast cosmic power prowling around him in a cracked bottle. Explosions weren't going to go well for either one of them right now. "If you have your key."
"We don't have the key," Lucifer snaps, aware that Gabriel already knows. "But we will soon."
"The Winchesters seem to be under the opinion that Lilith has the key." He can't help it: it's going to get him killed, but he asks anyway. What can he say? HE's curious to see who's double-crossing who these days. "Demons definitely have it, or I'd know about it."
"Even if you knew about it, you'd still not tell me."
"Don't be so sure of that, bro." Settling his legs in the most comfortable cross-legged position, he wiggled his shoulder to loosen them up. "I have absolutely no loyalty to anyone."
"You've been associating with the Winchesters."
"Recreationally. They amuse me."
"They are vessels, and not yours to play with." Lucifer sounds like he's scolding him for some minor indiscretion. He sounds like the old Lucifer for a moment, but then Gabriel looks up and he's blacker, more twisted than he ever used to be. "They are not meant for you."
"They seem to think they're not meant for you, either." Suddenly, Lucifer snarls, and just for a second, his body infuses with bright Grace, tinged red with the stench of his betrayal. Gabriel draws back, shocked as just how ugly his brother now is. He used to be the most beautiful of them all, but one could not imagine that looking at him now.
"Enough," he barks, waving one hand. Outside, it begins to hail, a thunderous din. The three Fallen circle around the edges of the warehouse, watching Gabriel hungrily, as though after Lucifer is done with him, they'd be able to eat their fill. Then again, to a certain extent, that's probably the plan. "No more quips, Gabriel. A long time ago you were my brother, and if you had not lost your courage you would have been my general." A long time ago, he would have protested, and said that he did it for peace, not cowardice, but now Gabriel is wise, and keeps his overly large mouth shut. "And I have not forgotten who you really are."
"Brother…" he breathes, inching as close as his binds will allow. "Brother, we've both forgotten who we are." Just for a second, the Devil freezes, but then he turns away.
"Very well. We'll just have to make you remember." Without a second glance, Gabriel's brother flies away in a flash of red Grace, leaving Gabriel with only the advancing Fallen for company.
…