Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed.

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"Ga'riel 's an archan'el," Castiel pointed out automatically. However little his brother might be acting like one at the moment, preferring, as he seemed to, his Trickster guise, all archangels were, by definition, 'badass.' And then the impact of Dean's words struck him—exhaustion and the echoes of remembered pain were affecting far more than just his speech, they were making it difficult to even think clearly—and a feeling of shock set in. "Ga'riel was there?"

"I don't think so to start with, but after Zachariah had you up against that wall…." Dean shook his head and looked away, apparently in some distress. "I don't know exactly what Zachariah was doing to you, but you were screaming and Sam and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. And then the windows blew out, the roof split open, the walls crumbled…it was like you back at that gas station, except about a hundred times worse. When I looked up again, Gabriel was just there, standing between you and Zachariah. And the look on his face, man." Dean's expression turned almost admiring. "I thought Sam did bitchface well, but that was impressive. Anyway, Gabriel and Zachariah sort of stared at each other for a second, and then Zachariah turned about the same color as those sheets, and…." He shook his head again. "Well, I don't really know what happened after that, to tell you the truth. Zachariah seemed to forget all about Sam and me, so we just grabbed you and ran."

"Which was about the first intelligent thing that any of you had done all day. Do you deliberately go looking for the bright, blinking, 'Hey, it's a trap!' signs, or is it just talent?"

Dean had lurched to his feet at Gabriel's first words, reaching for the gun in his waistband, but after a glare at Gabriel he let his hand fall away. "Dude, do any of you knock?"

Gabriel smirked and then made a beckoning gesture, and something jumped out of Dean's pocket and flew into his hand, followed immediately by a second item from one of the bags. Ferocious banging from the inside of the bathroom door indicated that something was attempting to go to him from that direction as well.

Whatever it was flew out of the bathroom and into his palm the moment Sam, now fully dressed, opened the door. Sam's gaze went first to Dean and Castiel, apparently assuring himself that they were all right, and then he swiveled to glare at Gabriel. "What the hell?!"

Gabriel displayed two lighters and a box of matches and smirked again. "Fool me once. I don't want either of you getting any ideas." He put them down on top of the television behind him.

"You—" Dean began, through gritted teeth.

"Hey, I'm being nice enough to share my wards with little bro there; the least you could do is offer me coffee." He took a quick look around the motel room and then wrinkled his nose. "On second thought, don't, I'd probably catch something."

"'ou're warding me?" Castiel asked, before either Dean or Sam could respond. He'd been terrified when he'd woken up and remembered that his wards were completely gone, and even now, no matter how he grasped for strength, he found nothing left with which he could replace them. Despite Dean's attempt to calm him, he was well aware that if his siblings found him, they would find the Winchesters with him, and now he knew far Zachariah would go to force Dean to accept Michael. Another angel warding him would explain why he—and they—had yet to be found, but why would Gabriel help him when he'd already made it clear that he wanted Dean to accept Michael? And, for that matter, Sam to accept Lucifer.

"Well, since you haven't got the power to ward a fly at the moment…." Gabriel shrugged. "I sent Zachariah crying back to Michael, but seeing as he's got his flaming sword shoved so far up his ass he's doing a damn good impersonation of a dragon at the moment—"

"Another good reason to be glad I haven't said 'yes'," Dean muttered.

"—one of the others else will probably be sent down in his place. I would hope one with a bit of restraint—"

"And not a total sadist?" Sam suggested.

"Do either of you ever shut up? Go get some food or something."

Castiel tensed as Gabriel flicked his fingers, banishing the Winchesters. "What di' you do with them?"

"Oh, relax. I just sent them to the market."

It was possible that he was lying, Castiel knew—he could be lying about everything, right down to keeping him hidden—but…somehow he just didn't think that was the case. Besides which, even if he was, there wasn't a great deal that Castiel could do about it at the moment.

"Anyway, I figured as long as I'd gone to the trouble of keeping Zachariah from turning you into chicken-fried-Castiel," Gabriel continued, "it would be kind of a waste to let someone else drop in and finish the job. So, wards."

"I thought you didn' believe 'n my search for Father?" As long as he kept his speech slow and thought about each word, they didn't seem to get jumbled in his mouth quite so badly, but he still found the sensation annoying.

Gabriel snorted. "I don't."

"Then why di' you help me?"

He waved a hand. "Slow day. All those humans up and being nice to each other, who'd have thought?"

Castiel ignored the dismissive tone, keeping his eyes locked on Gabriel's, and after a moment, Gabriel looked away, all signs of amusement disappearing from his face.

"Because he was torturing you, okay? The killing…." He shook his head. "I hate it. Hate. It. I can't stand to see it. But at least it's…fast. No matter how quickly I move, by the time I know something's happening, it's already too late to do anything but mourn the loss."

Castiel remembered Uriel, and Anna putting the sword through his throat before he'd been able to do much more than register her presence, and didn't say anything.

"But what Zachariah was doing to you wasn't fast. He wasn't trying to make it fast. I could hear you screaming, and it wasn't stopping, and—" He broke off with another, sharper, shake of his head.

"Thank you," Castiel said, when it became obvious that Gabriel didn't plan to say anything else.

Gabriel's expression hardened as he turned back to face Castiel. "You want to thank me, convince those two idiots to give in, say 'yes,' and get this damn thing over with, one way or the other."

It was Castiel's turn to look away. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that, even if it meant that the wards protecting him would be removed. He would convince the Winchesters to leave him…they would understand, once he explained the danger.

Silence hung between them for several minutes, and then Gabriel heaved a sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, even if it did have a definite edge of exasperation. "Oh, stop worrying; it's not a condition for anything. I didn't actually think you'd listen to reason." He snorted. "And they obviously won't. Stubborn, stupid, pains in the ass."

Castiel wasn't entirely sure if he was included in that description or not, and he flinched back almost instinctively when Gabriel stepped closer and reached out a hand. After what Zachariah had done, a link with any of his siblings would bring only pain; a direct link with an archangel at full strength would be completely unbearable.

"Stop that. Be still."

A palm pressed lightly against the forehead of his shell and Castiel felt tendrils of power reaching towards him. Normally a physical connection was completely unnecessary for communication, but it seemed that Gabriel intended to scan rather than initialize a link. He somehow found enough energy to look beyond his shell—it was frightening to think that he was barely even capable of the angelic equivalent of opening his eyes right now—and saw a latticework of warding around the two of them, apparently what Gabriel was using to hide them from the others.

"You are a mess, aren't you?" Gabriel observed, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes."

For some reason Gabriel seemed to find that amusing, but before Castiel could inquire, he felt a terrifying surge of power that dwarfed anything that Zachariah would ever be able to control rising around him. "Don't watch," Gabriel cautioned.

He obediently closed his 'eyes' and reduced his vision to that of his shell—he couldn't have kept them open much longer anyway—and then sheer self-preservation forced him to keep still as whatever Gabriel was doing drew closer and closer. He shivered inside his shell, but before the terror manifested physically the pressure suddenly dissipated.

"There."

Wards, Castiel realized when he looked again. Except that these were much tighter than the ones he'd originally seen, and surrounding only him rather than a latticework that enclosed the two of them. While they weren't actually tied to him, he could see connections already in place where he could link if he chose, and he frowned, uncertain. That kind of warding had the promise of something permanent.

"They're yours until you choose to release them," Gabriel confirmed, dropping his arm back to his side. "When you link, they'll start drawing on your energy to maintain themselves, but it shouldn't be much more than you were spending on your own wards. Most of the power requirement comes at creation."

Castiel lost focus on the wards barely seconds later, but…. "Gabriel?"

"I'd like to see Zachariah—or any of Michael's sycophants—breach those."

There was more than a hint of anger in his tone, and Castiel didn't question further, but there were shields tied into those wards. The next angel—or possibly even archangel; it was hard to say from the short glimpse he'd managed—who tried to catch him in a power vortex was going to find it reflected right back at them. 'In the teeth' to use Dean's terminology. Oh, the shields were unlikely to hold against Michael or Lucifer, even Gabriel didn't have that kind of power, but then if either of them were in front of him, he would have far more important things to worry about anyway. "Thank you," he repeated.

"Yeah, well, just don't expect me to pop in and save your ass when one of the others does decide to end it quickly. Those won't do a damn thing against a sword." Gabriel shook his head and then reached out again. "You should rest. You're barely keeping that shell intact at the moment; you certainly don't have any business working beyond it."

Castiel intercepted his hand, ignoring the fact that his arm trembled when he raised it off the mattress. "The Winchesters?" He had a more than sneaking suspicion that if he didn't ask, Gabriel would have no compunction about leaving them wherever he'd sent them.

Gabriel heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then all traces of seriousness disappeared as he smirked. "Oh, fine, I suppose I can return your pet humans. Although you'd be much better off with a nice terrier." His grin grew. "I'll even make them terriers, if you like."

Castiel stared at him.

"Hopeless." Gabriel shook his head and snapped his fingers. Sam and Dean reappeared immediately—Dean looking unaccountably slimy—but before Castiel could ask, fingers brushed lightly against his forehead as power once again rose around him, and the world dimmed to black.

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Okay, one note—I know Dean is supposed to be the Michael sword, but I couldn't let the chance for a flaming sword/dragon impression line pass (especially since Gabriel is the one character besides Dean that I can see pulling it off), so I'm assuming Michael has an actual sword somewhere as well.