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S13 E20 "Unfinished Business" Weave
(I didn't write the ep; don't sue me-believe me, you won't get much.)

I only own the fill-in-the-blanks parts and my character.

A short while later, the door opened, Sam and Dean walking in. "Thank Chuck," Rachel muttered, quickly clearing her search history on Sam's tablet and pulling up a page on Norse demigod lure to cover her tracks. "I was about to use him for target practice."

"Your girl, Sam," Gabriel said with a click of his tongue. "I gotta say, you might not want to get on her bad side." He paused, contemplating. "Or maybe you do. Could be kinky."

Sam picked up the pillow Rachel had chucked at Gabriel with slight confusion. "If she was going to shoot you, she had a reason."

"Pfft. I was just making conversation. Not my fault she didn't like the topic."

Sam eyed him, tossing the pillow back on the bed. "And what topic would that be?"

"Enough," Rachel snapped, glaring at Gabriel.

He scoffed. "You know, you guys are lucky I'm low on juice, considering what I did to the last guy who locked me up."

"You know what?" Sam asked. "We said we'd let you go-just as soon as you tell us what the hell is going on here."

"Great, he's going to get to talk again," Rachel commented from the bed.

Sam's brow arched at her as he stripped off his jacket and started rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Gabriel shook his head. "Yeah … it, uh … It's not a fun story."

Dean tossed his coat aside. "Well, we just broke into a junkyard and stuffed the body of a demigod in a car crusher. So I think you owe us some answers."

Sam and Dean took a seat in front of him, waiting expectantly for Gabriel to begin. "Okay," Gabriel said with a sigh, "they aren't really demigods." Dean pursed his lips, waving his hand in annoyance. "Look, the Norse pantheon is its own weird thing. Them of 'em more like, uh, god-begotten monsters ..."

Gabriel continued his story, the three listening as he explained himself. Still, by the end, Dean was as frustrated as he was from the start. "You know," he said, none of this would've happened if you had just stuck around and helped us fight Lucifer."

The archangel stood. "Hey, I did help you. 'Casa Erotica?'" he reminded with an expectant look.

"You call that help?" Sam asked.

"I call that art," Gabriel corrected. "But yes, without me, you two chuckleheads never would've known how to throw Lucifer back in the cage."

"But instead of giving us a hand," Dean argued, "you ran. And you just did it again when you ditched us in the bunker."

"Alright, Dean, I have more important things to do than to join your little band of merry men." He paused. "Though it definitely has more appeal with Maid Marion on board."

"Hey, what you're doing? This? This is not important."

"Every day," Gabriel snapped, his voice darkening. "Asmodeus tortured me. Every. Day. He fed off my grace for years! He used me, he debased me until I was …" He stopped, panting as he looked between the two brothers. "What I went through," he said after a prolonged pause, "you don't forgive. Everyone who had a hand in it will die. Get me?" he challenged Dean, who looked at him with a stiff glare.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "We do."

Dean sighed. "Okay, you went through it. We get it, alright? But killing Loki? Not gonna change any of that. It's not. In fact, probably not even gonna make you feel better."

"Well," Gabriel said with an irritated huff, "agree to disagree, Dean-o. We all have our demons." He glanced at Sam and Dean, then to Rachel, and back. "Mine are here, in this town."

Sam gave him a small nod. "Okay. But you're low on grace, and Loki knows you're coming."

"Sam," Dean interrupted sternly.

As Dean began to leave the room, Sam watched with a heavy sigh. He followed after his brother, lifting his arms. "What?" he asked as they stepped into the hallway.

"Not like I care about killing gods, okay?" Dean said as he faced him. "But this whole revenge kick? It's a waste of time."

Sam processed what his brother was saying. "What if it's not?" he challenged.

"You've seen it, Sam—with me, with Dad. Revenge only ends one way: Ugly."

Deep down, Sam couldn't help but wonder if Dean was right. Though he couldn't admit it, the idea of exacting revenge on Lucifer for the noose he placed around his neck had crossed his mind multiple times a day. "Well, maybe it doesn't have to."

"Okay," Dean said with a nod, "I think I know what this is."

"Okay, what is it?"

"You." Dean eyed Sam. "You're so hopped up on this 'Kill Bill' fantasy of his."

"No, no, no," Sam objected. "This has nothing to do with me."

"If you had a shot at Lucifer, wouldn't you take it?"

Sam paused, coolness flowing through his veins at the idea. "Of course I would." He saw Dean's expectant look. "But this is about Gabriel. He needs our help."

With a heavy sigh and a subtle eye roll, Dean returned to their room. "Gabriel," Sam began as they approached, "you agree to help us, we'll agree to help you."

Rachel swallowed hard, meeting Sam's eyes briefly. This wasn't an easy, low-risk fight. This was only fragments away from suicide.

"Hmm," Gabriel said, looking between the brothers. "Deal." He turned to Dean. "Lend me some clothes?"

"You planned on coming here for revenge but you didn't take a bag?" Dean asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "Didn't think I'd need them."

With a shake of his head, Dean picked out a couple pieces and threw them at Gabriel. As Gabriel started unbuttoning his shirt, Sam cleared his throat loudly, nodding to Rachel. "Oh, come on," Gabriel laughed. "I don't have anything she hasn't seen before." He smirked. "Or maybe I do."

"Bathroom," Dean ordered, waving him off.

"Bunch of party poopers," Gabriel muttered, going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.

"Guess I'll get some supplies out of the car," Dean said, taking up his army green duffel bag.

"Grab me a box of bullets," Sam said, checking the magazine as he discharged it from his gun's grip.

When the door shut behind Dean, Sam turned and looked at Rachel. "I've been reading up on Norse demigods," she said as he approached. "Wooden stakes or swords are most effective. Or all that are effective." She paused, looking into his eyes as he sat on the edge of the mattress next to her. "These guys are no joke. And if Loki is their father and the original Trickster, he's going to be even worse."

Sam nodded, tucking Rachel's hair behind her ear. "We'll be okay. Dean will have my back."

Rachel's lips parted; she fought the urge to argue with him about letting her come. He had brought her here in the first place. That was more than enough. "Have his too," she said instead.

"Always."

Setting the tablet aside, Rachel took Sam's hand that lingered over her cheek into her own, running her fingers over his toughened skin. "So talk to me. What's been going on?"

With a deep breath, Sam moved a little closer. "Nightmares," he said, looking down. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. Still, the dreams he had since finding out Robbie was his child were disturbing at best, terrifying at worst.

"What about?"

"You. Robbie. Dean. Cas. Mom. Jack." He sighed. "Everyone. But the most about you and Robbie."

"What happens in them?" Rachel asked gently, still smoothing his skin.

Sam shut his eyes, turning a little away. "Everything. Anything." Rachel watched his jaw tick as he gritted his teeth. "And no matter what I do, I can't stop them. I try, but … they always take you both from me. And I'm never strong enough to save you."

Rachel brushed Sam's hair from his brow. "Well, that's how you know they're just nightmares, then." She smiled when he looked up into her eyes. "Because you are strong enough. And you've never failed me, or our son."

Sam shook his head, bitterness bubbling up from within. "What Arioch did to you …" He scoffed, turning away. "I failed you then. I failed you when Ketch had you. I failed you with Asmodeus. Hell, I failed you tonight."

"None of those things were your fault!"

"They were," Sam argued. "Because I couldn't stop them."

"Sammy," Rachel whispered, turning his face to see his eyes. They were glassy with tears. "You can't stop everything that will ever happen to me or to our son. Some things you just can't help. And it's okay."

"Not when it's your lives." He covered her hand on his cheek with his own. "The closer you are to me, the more I put you at risk." His nostrils flared as he studied her. "And I can't risk either of you. I won't." He brought her knuckles to his lips, deliberately kissing them.

"Yeah, well, it's not up to you what I do," Rachel reminded him. "So if I want to be with you, then you can't stop me." She paused. "Well, I guess you could, but you'd have to not want to be with me. ... Is that what this is?"

"No, no, no," Sam assured. "I just don't want you or Robbie to get hurt."

"Getting hurt is part of life, Sam. It's unavoidable."

"I mean, really hurt … like …"

"Ganked?"

Sam winced. "Yeah. Like that."

Rachel sighed. "Sammy, stop worrying about me so much. You're going to kill yourself over it. And all the kale in the world won't help you."

He laughed. "Baby girl, I'll never stop worrying about you, or our son."

Dean came back in, kicking the motel door shut. Sam turned, watching him. "Bullets," Dean announced, putting the box on the table.

Sam kissed Rachel on the forehead, standing and crossing to the table. "Thanks."

"Everything alright?" Dean asked, playing it casual as he observed.

"Fine," Sam replied, sitting at the table and focusing on loading bullets into his gun's magazine.

Gabriel emerged from the bathroom, straightening the clothes Dean loaned him. Dean looked up from organizing his duffel bag, watching the archangel cross in front of him. "Alright, Uma," he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder, "what's the plan?"

Gabriel sighed. "Well, Sleipnir's a lot of things, but mainly, he is a coward." He opened the chest of swords. "I will bet all the personal lubricant in the SFV that after we killed Narfi, he ran straight back to papa's skirts."

"So he and Loki will be together," Sam concluded. "That's great. How do we find them?"

"They're, uh, about a five minute drive from here. Penthouse of the Ophidian Hotel."

Sam's face wrinkled. "Seriously?"

"You've known this whole time?" Dean asked.

"Sure," Gabriel said casually. "That's what Loki does. He rolls into a dump town, finds the seediest motel, then uses some mojo to give it his patented Cinderella treatment. Loki has his fun, then he moves on. I've been tracking him since Amarillo."

"And you didn't go after him. Why?"

"'Cause that's, uh …" Gabriel paused, seeing the three watching him intently. "For the most satisfying retributive experience, everyone knows you don't take on the Big Bad from the jump. You work up to him, like so." He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Dean, who unfolded it. Two of four names on it were crossed off.

"What am I looking at here?" Dean asked.

Gabriel's brow shot up. "You've never seen a kill list before? Hmm. Wow. Okay. There's Fenrir, Narfi, Sleipnir, and then, last but not least, Loki. I'm killing all of his sons in order. And then, when he's got nothing left, I take him out."

Dean shook his head. "This is so stupid."

"I actually really agree," Rachel said, standing from the bed and crossing her arms over her chest as she came closer to them.

"Really? Is it?" Gabriel asked incredulously, snatching the paper from Dean. "'Cause let me tell you something, seven years is a long ass time for me to plan my own personal brand of vengeance. So if you guys aren't on board—"

"No, no, no, no," Sam assured, standing with a chuckle that was unsettling to Rachel. "We're on board." He readied his gun. "Right Dean?"

Dean shrugged, giving a grunt. "I'm sorry, what was that?" Gabriel asked; Rachel rolled her eyes as she watched him lean in expectantly.

"Sure," Dean said through a forced smile.

Rachel scoffed, coming to stand next to Dean. "Yeah, well, I still think this is nothing but a testosterone-fueled waste of time."

Gabriel looked to her. "Oh really? And why's that? Is my vendetta not important enough because it's not Sam's or Dean's?"

"No, Fluffy," Rachel snapped. "It's stupid because you three are going to go in there half-cocked, looking for a fight with demigods—one of which happens to be a slimier trickster than you." She eyed Gabriel. "These guys are mortals, and you're low on juice. So tell me how that makes any sense."

Gabriel wet his lips as he let a small laugh escape through them. "Well, thanks for the vote, sweetie, but this really isn't a democracy. So, I don't give a damn."

"Hey," Sam said, his voice taking on a tone of warning.

"I'm fine, Sam," Rachel replied, keeping her focus on Gabriel as she took a step closer. Dean watched carefully as he stood next to her, ready to intercept if needed. "I know you don't give a damn," she continued to Gabriel, eyes narrowed, "but I give a damn about them. So if your stupidity costs them a single cent, you can bet your holy ass I'll be after you with a blade."

Gabriel's smirk did nothing to cool Rachel's jets. "God, I love seeing you ticked off. So friggin' hot."

Sam moved in front of Dean and extended his arm in front of Rachel as she went toward Gabriel, gently taking hold of her. "Easy," he murmured, guiding her to stand next to him. "We'll be fine," he assured quietly.

"You damn well better be," she growled.

"Peachy," Gabriel said with a sigh, his face tightening. "So here's what we're gonna do—we go in, we kill Sleipnir, and then we surprise Big Daddy in the penthouse. Easy peasy like a breezey."

As Gabriel walked away, Rachel shook her head. "I don't like it."

Sam gave her a kiss on the forehead, his hand running over her stomach. "I know," he said. "It'll be okay. We'll be back soon."

With a shorter peck, Sam walked out after Gabriel, Rachel slightly taken back by his hurried pace. Dean sighed and shook his head as he began to follow. Before he could leave the room after them, Rachel grabbed his arm, Dean looking down at her in confusion. "Just … Keep yourselves safe. And keep Sam on a leash." She bit her bottom lip, seeing Dean's eyes searching hers. "I just feel like there's a whole lot Sam isn't saying right now, and this … Rambo plan of Gabriel's has me worried."

Dean's brow raised. "What do you mean about Sam?" he asked.

Rachel was hesitant to answer; she knew that Dean would listen, though. "He just … seems … off. Too eager. Not rational, or methodical, like he usually is." She wet her lips. "It's like he can't help but want to fight. Or hunt. Or …"

"So you've noticed too," Dean murmured. She nodded. "Any clue as to what's going on? Because I'm at a loss."

She sighed. "Me too. He said nightmares are fueling it, but I know there's got to be more to it than that."

Dean nodded, glancing back at the door before returning his focus to her. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll figure it out. And I'll bring 'em back."

"Yourself too, dummy."

With a pat on the shoulder and a grin, Dean left, closing the motel room door shut behind himself. Rachel stared at the wood for a few moments before glancing back at the bed. "Alright, Robbie," she sighed, "let's distract ourselves while Daddy and Uncle Dean go on a suicide mission."