Have I ever said that I suck at fluff? Yeah.

With that in mind, short warning (spoiler alert): In this chapter Gabriel's finally talks to Cas about his darker sexual history and while it's mostly implications Gabriel does say a few things that I really debated on including. References to rape and prostitution. I don't really think it needs it but, warning for Hell flashback?

"Blah, blah, blah. Cas, I knew what I was doing. He knew what he was doing. I've told you. Do I need to spell it out? Drop. It." Gabriel glared at his younger brother while he poked at the chocolate pancakes he was cooking. Cas wasn't fazed by the glare. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. This was the last conversation he wanted to have and he needed to change the subject. He'd tried to change it multiple times. Cas wasn't letting up and it was putting him in a position he didn't want to be in. Cas didn't need to know this. He didn't want his brother to know why he was beginning to regret having sex with Sam. How the hell he'd picked it up Gabriel wasn't sure, but he had and that was the issue now.

"No, Gabriel. You're regretting it and you won't let me in. If you won't let me in I cannot help you and if you don't talk to someone about it then you're going to sit there and dwell on whatever the hell's going through your brain."

Gabriel grimaced and looked back at his food. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, but maybe he needed to. No one knew just how bad things had been for him. Just how far he'd gone to keep his brother from sleeping on the streets. Damn it. "I'm worried, Cas. I'm worried that I fucked up. Do you know why I backed off in the first place? I'm his soul and he was getting drugged off of it. I'm worried that I fucked up. I'm worried that I accidentally used him just like those sick fucks used me when I was younger."

"Gabe-"

"I knew what I was doing, and I'm pretty sure that he was clearheaded. But… what if he wasn't? What if he was drugged off my soul just like he's been almost every time we've encountered each other? What if I-"

"Gabe, stop." Gabriel didn't look away from the pancakes, the voice much closer than it had been moments ago, as a hand rested on his shoulder and he flinched away from the touch. It was all he could do to bury those memories. Hell, it was Hell. Fucked up things were supposed to happen there. On Earth? No. Things like that weren't supposed to happen. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't deserve that burden, Cas. I'd have suffered a thousand times in Hell before putting you through the burden of knowing what happened when I took off and came back with money. It wasn't worth it."

"Gabe-"

"It doesn't matter what those sick fucks did to me. Not anymore. It's gone. It's over with." I don't want to talk about it, stop making me talk about it, Cas. Let it go.

"How old were you?" Gabriel shut his eyes at the question.

"Sixteen." The first time.

"After dad?" Cas asked carefully and he nodded, not turning. He could feel tears trickling down his cheeks. It didn't matter. It was over. It was done.

"We needed money and I was desperate. I went to a shady bar that took my fake ID without an argument and a woman saw me. She bought me a drink and told me she could help me with my money problem. I didn't see when she spiked my drink. I woke up in the middle of it." Gabriel summarized, stomach churning as the memories were brought to front and center. "They paid me. Kept her promise." It could've been worse. Others times were worse. "I'm done talking about it, Cas. It's over. It's done."

Gabriel finally turned to look away from the food he wasn't really cooking anymore and see the disappointment or disgust in his brother's face, instead he was enveloped in a hug.

"Damn it, Gabe." Gabriel blinked, letting his brother crush him in a hug. That wasn't the reaction he'd expected. At all. It was the last reaction and for some stupid reason it had him clinging back. Fuck. "Don't you ever blame yourself for that." And no. He wasn't crying. He absolutely wasn't crying. No one could prove anything. "You were manipulated and that wasn't your fault. That was never your fault. Don't you dare ever out that blame on you."

The two of them stood there for several long moments and Gabriel was not crying. No. Carefully he buried those memories again, locking them away along with Hell. Maybe Cas was right. Maybe he wasn't. It didn't matter anymore and hadn't mattered in years. At least that's what he told himself. Yet there was a small sense of relief that flooded him at his brother's words.

"The two of you done with your chick flick moment?" Gabriel all but jumped out of his skin, shooting an annoyed glare at the doorframe where Dean was standing, Sam right behind him with a wary expression.

"How long have you been standing there?" Gabriel asked suddenly and Dean grinned at him.

"Nowhere near long enough." Gabriel wiped at his face subconsciously as Dean stepped in, Sam trailing after him and watching him closely. "I have a hunt for you to do." Sam shot Dean a confused look that the ex-archangel ignored. "It's in Alliance, Nebraska." Dean shifted uncomfortably.

Gabriel was the first to speak up, eyes narrowed. "Since when do you push us to hunt anything? And where the hell are you and Sam-"

"I'm taking Sam to find my Grace. I'm not telling you to hunt, Gabriel. If you don't want to hunt it, awesome, don't hunt. Sit around here and lose your mind." Dean glared at him and Gabriel knew the real reason why he was taking Sam with him. Unlike Cas, Dean didn't trust that Gabriel wouldn't take off with Sam and disappear. Honestly, he was right not to trust him alone with Sam. It was one of those things he'd planned to talk about with the angel about later in the day, Dean was grabbing that from under him before he could do it and it pissed him off.

"Why can't you take Cas with you? Why does it have to be Sam?"

"I want to go with him." Sam piped up before Dean could snap back and Gabriel met his gaze from across the room. "I will be fine. The two of you go hunt and… if you're in life threatening danger, pray to Balthazar." There was an unspoken 'since I can't -or possibly cannot knowing Sam- help you'.

Gabriel considered his angel for several long moments before giving in. To an extent he understood the ulterior motives behind this. Sam had mentioned it briefly. He felt useless and broken without his wings, which wasn't true but trying to explain that to him? It was like arguing with a brick wall. Pretty quickly he'd given up on it because it wasn't worth arguing on a subject like that. Sam was right that he'd never be able to fully understand the feeling of losing wings.

"Okay." He conceded, looking at his since abandoned pancakes that were now burning. "So what's in…wherever?" Gabriel asked as he shut the stove off and no he wasn't pouting.

"Stop being a child." Sam's words rang through him in all the wrong ways, coiling around his mind and drawing forward a memory of iciness and…purity. Rather than shoving away the Hell memory he allowed it to draw him in.

"You are doing excellent, Gabriel. Marvelous work." Alistair purred in his ear, leaning over his shoulder and observing the man he had been tearing apart, piece by piece, section by section, over and over again. There was no enjoyment in it, just relief. Freedom from being trapped under Alistair's blade. Freedom clouded in shame. Shame that he was torturing them just for some relief. Of course it was meaningless as Alistair felt the need to remind him. If they were given the option, they would tear him apart.

Gabriel felt the change as Alistair disappeared and he relaxed, letting up on the man he had been torturing. Long since had this particular man stopped pleading with him for relief, he'd been enduring. Gabriel wanted to know if this man deserved what he was doing to him. More than once in his time on Earth he'd gone out of his way to screw over people that deserved it. They were in Hell now, had this man been like him? Thoughts like this helped him hold onto his humanity. Forcing himself to remember his life before the cold. He knew the truth. They were turning him. Tainting and corrupting him until he was nothing more than the damned demons they'd once hunted. Oh he knew he'd fucked up. His choice to sell his soul had been stupid. This was the price and it was what kept him grounded. He'd saved the last of his family and Cas had Dean to hold him together. If he'd lost his brother he wouldn't have had anything left. A broken and shattered mentality, and sure, an escape. A blissful escape from the hell that their father had put him through, but the cost wasn't worth it. The loss of his baby brother wasn't worth it. No matter the level of resentment he felt for him, he couldn't do that to him.

"Please." Gabriel blinked, meeting the gaze of the current victim. Did he deserve this? Did this man deserve it? What had he done to bring him to Hell?

"Why are you in Hell?" He asked as he returned to his careful, delicate carving of the man, not being as violent as he'd been when Alistair was present. Of all the things he had done in his time here, speaking to a victim wasn't something he had chosen. Not yet. It was something he was scared to do. What if his victim was a good person? Someone better than him that made a stupid choice? A good person that saved someone they loved? What if they were there rightfully? A terrible sick human being that deserved their death. Deserved Hell. It would be so easy to give in, to do what Alistair wanted from him. Torture the victim if they deserved it.

"Please!" The man cried out, struggling against Gabriel's delicate precision. He couldn't stop. Wasn't allowed to stop. If he did, he would be put back on the rack. Well, there was always a chance for it anyway but doing this lightened it.

"Why are you in Hell?" Gabriel asked again as he continued his work.

The man muttered incoherently until finally three words passed his lips. Three words that managed to break any sympathy Gabriel felt for him. Gabriel didn't need context. Not in Hell. Not with his hand on that blade. All he needed was a reason and those three words were it. A reason to give in. To do what Alistair wanted from him without it being the damned demon's choice. "Killed my son." Those words acted as the fuel Gabriel needed to do what Alistair wanted.

It had been around forty years since he'd been drug into the pit. All that mattered was blocking out his doubts and holding onto his memories. Playing his part. Doing what Alistair expected of him without ever fully surrendering to the twisted corruption of Hell. It was a challenge, keeping that very careful balance. Sometimes he slipped up and depending on the slip depended whether he was punished or rewarded. Gabriel could feel it, no matter how hard he fought, he could feel it. The turning of him, of who he was. It was at the forty year marker that things changed. Normally when Alistair left he did it without a word. This time had been different. Alistair had ordered him to stay put, which was redundant considering he couldn't leave. It wasn't long following that when something suspicious happened and Gabriel's guard went up, mistrust slipping through him as he returned to full assault on the soul before him. The area illuminated in a blindingly bright light and… warmth. A shudder rippled across him as memories of burning in hellfire flashed through him. Warmth didn't belong here. Not this kind of warmth. What had he done this time? Why was he being punished? He'd been careful about his actions, about his moves. Playing the part for Alistair for years.

Gabriel lifted his gaze from the soul and watched as the blindingly bright light touched down before him, the few weaker demons that had been scattered around diving away and disappearing as the light arrived.

Slowly the light took the form of something… inhuman but still made of pure light. Of course it wasn't human. What was it though? From what little he could make out there were… three heads attached to something semblant of a torso. Blinking several times he managed to make out… wings? "Gabriel Novak." His gaze wandered across the figure until it distorted itself into something else much more understandable, a glowing humanoid figure with silvery blue eyes and dark hair. Alistair had to be screwing with him. Testing him. Gabriel allowed himself to turn his full attention away from the soul he was still torturing. The damned woman he had been torturing sobbed in relief when his scalpel left her.

"Another incubus so soon." Gabriel's words didn't come out as sarcastic as he'd hoped for, it was the first time he'd spoken in years and…it felt human, real, something he would need to note for later.

"I am Samuel. I have come to here to free you, Gabriel Novak." Though the words clearly weren't English though Gabriel had long since learned that in Hell, there was no language. No limitations on what they could speak because they weren't alive.

Gabriel almost laughed. Almost cracked up at that. Right. Being freed. He'd been in Hell for forty years. He wasn't getting out now. He had no reason to. If Cas could've saved him, it would've happened years ago. Besides, this was a trick. It had to be a trick. There was nothing that could save him. Alistair was testing him so he had to remain as he always did. "And I'm Queen of Hell. Leave me alone. I have work to return to." Then Gabriel turned and allowed that darker part of him to manifest momentarily. Gabriel was about to sink his blade back into the woman when arms wrapped around him and a startled cry escaped him. "Let me go!" Gabriel shouted as the arms tightened around him. Warmth, warmth and… something that didn't belong here. It didn't belong.

"I will not, Gabriel. Stop being a child and allow me this." There was a breath of desperation in the words that sank into Gabriel and made him want to oblige. He couldn't. It was a trick. It had to be.

Nothing would save him. Play along. He told himself. Except he wasn't sure that was the case. While he was trying to play along and act like it, something horrible was blooming deep in him at the presence of this creature, the warmth, the warmth that didn't burn. It felt right, it was dangerous. Talk. He ordered himself mentally. Play along. "Don't. I'm not worth saving. Don't save me. Save her or him. Not me." Gabriel fought against the being… Samuel.

"Let me save you, Gabriel. Tell me yes." So much sincerity in those words. That warmth… bleeding into him. He was losing that battle. He wanted it to be true. Needed it to be.

"I can't."

"Tell me yes." The creature's voice was firm yet pleading.

"You can't make me." Gabriel's stated defiantly, his struggling getting weaker, he was losing. Something about the warmth… it was drawing him in, pulling him close.

"Say yes, Gabriel. Let me save you." The creature pleaded and something in him broke.

If this was Alistair… no, Alistair had never simulated warmth like this. Nothing like this had ever happened. This had to be real. It had to be. Gabriel crumbled in the arms of the being and choked out a single word, fear and agony radiating through him because what if it was wrong. What if he was wrong? "Yes."

Gabriel was pulled from his memories by the feeling of something nudging into his mind. It took almost no time for him to become aware of where he was, the guest bed. A few seconds later he became conscious of a concerned face inches above his and, for a moment, he could've sworn he saw that form that had initially materialized before him in Hell. Samuel, the angel. He had remembered his angel freeing him. In the sheer hopelessness of Hell and… he'd broken to him. Just like that.

All of those carefully constructed barriers he'd built to keep Alistair from destroying him had snapped in almost no time at all. He'd trusted Sam since before he knew that he was an angel and while that idea should've scared him, it did the exact opposite. It cemented that this thing he felt for the angel was stronger than just lust. Now all he needed was certainty that Sam wasn't acting off of a drug -aka soul- addiction.

"Gabriel."

Ignoring the worried tone in Sam's voice he wrapped his arms around the angel's neck and pulled, causing a startled gasp to escape him as she stumbled down on top of Gabriel. Gabriel allowed Sam to twist around until he was on his side next to Gabriel as moved onto his own side, propping his head up on his hand and searching Sam.

It was clear that Sam was confused, which was fair considering everything. "Let's run, Sam. Let's leave. Take off and never come back. Leave everyone and everything behind."

Sam opened then shut his mouth, watching Gabriel with concern and something else unreadable. "The world's ending, Gabe… we cannot." Gabriel's heart might've broke from the pain of the refusal if it wasn't aching slightly with excitement that Sam was calling him Gabe. Something about his lifelong nickname coming out of Sam's mouth had a massive effect on him and he was so screwed because he was being the world's biggest sap.

"Fuck the world. They don't need us."

"We did this, Gabriel. We need to fix it." Gabriel groaned in frustration because even though Sam said 'we' Gabriel could hear the underlying 'I'.

"I swear to… stop blaming yourself for this, Sam. It isn't your fault. It's that bitch demon Nex's fault. We were played like fiddles. All of us were. I don't know what Lucifer imbedded in your head about it being your fault, but it isn't."

Pointedly Sam looked away from him which was not going to work for this conversation. Hiding from the issue obviously wasn't helping anything. It was subtle but clear that Sam was repressing the shit he'd gone through which from personal experience he knew was a very stupid thing to do.

"Talk to me, Sam." He demanded as he shifted, reaching between them and putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezing until his angel's broken gaze met his. Fuck. "What the hell did he do to you? You've got to talk to me because anyone that can understand is too emotionally stunted to get that you're miserable and need help."

"You can't help, Gabriel." Sam responded miserably, words broken.

"You're right. I can't help. But I can listen. I can't imagine Alistair was half as creative as Lucifer could possibly be but it doesn't matter because this bottling it up shit clearly isn't working for you."

A panicked look flashed through Sam's eyes before it vanished. He shifted and Gabriel recognized what it was before the following pained sound escaped the angel's lips. Sam was trying to fly away and hell no.

"Sam, stop." Gabriel tightened his grip as Sam tried to back off the edge of his bed.

"Let me go, Gabriel. I cannot do this. Do not make me talk about… that. Please."

"I won't make you talk, Sam." Gabriel conceded with reluctance. "But you can't keep burying it. You need to talk to someone."

"I'll think about it." Sam was clearly lying but Gabriel couldn't push for more for the moment.

Distract him. A twisted part of his mind suggested and he shoved it off because sex was not going to be a good idea in the current situation. If Gabriel was pushing for Sam to open up then followed it with sex it might give Sam the idea that he could use sex to escape talking and he was an expert at that already.

Gabriel let go of Sam but the angel made no move to leave. In fact, he relaxed back into the bed and rolled over so they were face to face.

"No sex." Gabriel said without thinking and Sam smiled at him.

"No sex." Sam agreed before kissing him.

.-~*~-.

An hour later Sam settled into the passenger seat of Dean's car and despite everything it felt natural. Nothing on Earth besides Gabriel had ever felt right, but sitting in that seat next to the brother that had all but raised them changed it. Dean's presence felt right. In a sick way he felt greedy, smug satisfaction that he was there. That he'd been the one to find the Archangel that fled Heaven after God left.

The more time he spent with him the more he understood it. The idea of running away. It was an interesting one. Something Gabriel wanted. After this was finished. After it all ended. Sam was going to do it. Sam was going to take Gabriel and hide him away because no matter what years of training said, Lucifer had been right. It was vindictive and cruel to give them something that they loved more than anything just to turn around and take it away.

"Sam?" Sam pulled out of his thoughts, looking over at Dean who hadn't stopped looking out across the road. A mental note he made was the song playing, one of many songs that Dean had made him listen to before the disastrous event at Mount Rushmore, Kashmir by Led Zeppelin.

"Yeah?" He asked, focusing on the conversation rather than trying to understand the words to the song again.

"You good?"

Sam frowned, considering the side of his brother's head. Dean knew the answer to that. He was broken and the only thing keeping him stable was going in the opposite direction. Which meant this was Dean's time with humanity seeping through. Asking a question that he knew the answer to meant he wanted or expected Sam to lie.

"I am fine." He answered, phantom limbs tucking into his back submissively. Lying to an Archangel. It rang wrong through his damaged Grace. Except Dean was no longer an Archangel. A pagan god. Internally he chastised himself. No more. It was over. He wasn't their puppet anymore.

"That's good." Dean answered awkwardly and for a moment Sam searched him. Considered a question.

"How did you do it?" Dean blinked, glancing over at him. "I can understand leaving Heaven. It's scarily easy to understand that. What I mean is, how did you take on your Pagan persona. How did Meg hide herself? How do you handle not having your wings?"

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel. "Sam, you don't want to give up Heaven. You don't want to do that."

"Why?" Sam demanded of his brother, words coming out harsher than intended.

"Can you hear anyone?" Dean asked in response and for a moment he didn't understand, until he did. It was there. His link to Heaven was there. A soft buzz in the back of his Grace, fractured and faded to the point that he was unable to hear it but still there, just like most everything else. "If you do what we did, it's gone. It's quiet. What I was doing with those humans was giving myself a link to something. I could teach you. I could take you and we could get you Pagan power or Gavreel could teach you how to do what he did. It's quiet, Sammy. It kills you slowly and I'm not really sure you could handle it." The song faded out, replaced with another song that Sam knew was called Stairway to Heaven. It bit at him, irritated him, while Dean's words made him mournful. More understanding of just what they'd gone through when they left. Lucifer had mentioned being isolated from Heaven. Had his imprisonment locked him off from The Host? Could Sam willingly subject himself to that?

The answer was yes. At a later point however. In his current state, he couldn't protect Gabriel. His Grace was unstable and waiting to escape from its confines. Waiting to hurt him again. If he couldn't protect Gabriel as an angel, he'd do it as a Pagan.

"Why are we getting your Grace, Dean?" Sam had already pieced this together but he wanted to know if Dean would lie to him.

"Raphael has it." Dean answered after a moment and Sam flinched back, staring at the side of Dean's head. That wasn't what he'd expected. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear. Dean had told them they were getting his Grace but if Raphael had it…

"No." Sam grabbed the handle of the car door. "Stop the car. Stop now, Dean." His brother complied and before the vehicle had pulled to a full halt Sam was out of the car and on his knees behind it with a painful shudder rippling through him, eyes burning painfully as phantom limbs tried wrapping around him. The second Dean had mentioned Raphael Sam knew. Knew why he was going with him. Why he was being drug with his brother into this situation.

"Sam!" Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him violently until he focused on the figure in front of him, cloaked in green magic. Not an Archangel. That was the difference. That was the difference. "You won't have to go there. Sammy, look at me. Fuck."

Sam did look at his brother, sinking under the order for a second before he was reminded that this wasn't Debriel. Not yet. Anger flared through his grace that tried to expose itself again, something he couldn't afford again.

"If I come with you to help you get your Grace back, you are taking it back." Dean stared at him, obviously looking for a reason to argue with him, to protest this request. Sam was not going to keep going with this. No matter how much Dean was hiding from his identity, they needed his brother the archangel, not a fake pagan. "You brought me with you because you need my help. The things Lucifer did to me? It ruined my Grace. My mind. You can't see the damage. I need you and you need me."

Dean made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. "Don't say crap like that, Sam."

"It's true and you know it. We need an archangel to deal with another archangel and you know it."

"I don't want to be an archangel."

"It doesn't matter what we want, Dean. Have you not figured this out yet? It's what we have to do. What we think we have to do. Killing Lilith? We didn't want to do that. I didn't want to do that. We did it because we thought it would save the world. We aren't going to be able to deal with archangels without your help and you know it."

"Damn it, Sammy." Dean rose to his feet, shaking his head. "Fuck. Fine. Why do you have to be right?"

"Because you taught me to." Sam answered, rising to his feet carefully.

"I didn't teach that crap to you. You were created with it." Dean responded, laughing sharply. "Damn it, Sammy. Fine. When we get it back, I'll do it."

"Alright."

"Just like that?" Dean asked him, slightly stunned.

"There's nothing more to talk about." Sam brushed it off as he made his way back into the car, shutting his eyes and thinking over everything. They would get Debriel back, then they could figure something out with the Lucifer situation. Figure out what Lucifer's plans were.