Author's Note: So, hi again. It's been a while. This year has been pretty busy for me so far, but more than that, it's just been hard to find the focus and emotional bandwidth to write. I am still working on this story, or rather, working on it again. If you're still with me, thank you, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. It starts to prod Sam & Gabe's relationship in the right direction, so to speak.

-SQ

Disclaimer: I haven't acquired the rights to Supernatural in the past six months, sorry

Chapter Twenty: At Wit's End

Another week had gone by and they were no closer to locating—or knowing how to deal with—Amara. Both Dean and Cas were so irritable and unpredictable lately that there were best avoided the majority of the time, which, with Claire gone, left Sam with Gabriel for company.

Sam still hadn't decided how he felt about this. The millennia-old Archangel was like a child—constantly flitting around, unable to sit still; feet up on the coffee table, chowing down on cupcakes and doughnuts of his own creation one moment, and leaning over Sam's shoulder (seriously, what was it about angels and personal space?) while he was trying to work the next.

"Do you mind?" he asked, after the Trickster once again made him jump and almost knock over his laptop by appearing suddenly and unexpectedly in his personal space.

"Sorry, Samsquatch," said Gabriel, not sounding at all sorry. "Whatcha doing anyway?"

"Research," replied Sam. "Claire's picked up a case, a couple of werewolves over in Idaho, and asked me to give her a hand with the desk work. I don't mind."

"Nerd."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful and hand me my phone, would you? The local police station might call to verify her badge number.

To Sam's surprise, Gabriel did as he asked, grabbing the phone and tossing it over underhand; the hunter caught it easily.

"Playing alibi. Yawn," said the Trickster Angel, settling back into a cushy armchair and propping his feet up on the coffee table. He snapped his fingers and two lollipops appeared. He tossed one to Sam, who caught it as well.

"No one's asking you to do it," said Sam, tucking the unopened candy into his pocket. "Go bother someone else for a change if you find me so boring."

Gabriel made a face at the hunter, but made no move to get up from his chair.

"Would you stop watching me?" asked Sam after a few minutes, looking up an raising an eyebrow at the Archangel. "It's creepy."

"I wasn't watching you," Gabriel huffed. "I just happened to be looking in your general direction, Mr. Egotistical."

"Yeah, well, don't," said Sam. "It's distracting."

"Fine," said Gabriel, and turned pointedly to look towards the rapidly darkening window, where the hunter's form was reflected perfectly in the glass.

*****Icarus*****

Gabriel was seriously regretting not getting out while he had the chance. It was obvious that Dean still didn't trust him as far as he could throw him (probably less; the bow-legged hunter had quite the arm on him). Castiel was also barely speaking to him (thought to be fair, he barely spoke to anyone these days). And Sam, well, Sam was Sam.

By all account the younger human should hate him too; he had killed his brother upwards of a hundred times. Sure, he had brought him back again (which had not been a part of the original plan) and helped them stop the Apocalypse, but he hadn't exactly ingratiated himself with the hunter. It would have been far too dangerous—it was far too dangerous. So why was he doing it now?

Gabriel scowled as the front door slammed, making him jump. A skittish deity, pathetic. His expression softened slightly when he realized it was Sam, back from his morning jog and humming to himself, unaware that anyone else was awake to hear him.

Ah well, said the voice in his head, the consistency of its mockery almost comforting, what's a little more torture among friends?

*****Icarus*****

"Gabriel, what does it mean exactly, that your Grace is Bound?"

The hunter had come back from his morning jog to find the Archangel with his feet up on the kitchen table, halfway through a box of ridiculously sugary breakfast cereal that Sam was a hundred percent sure neither he nor Dean had purchased.

"It means I can't use it, Bucko," said Gabriel with annoyance, after washing down a mouthful of cereal with a swig of chocolate milk. "No wings, no healing, no smiting. No Angel Radio or Holy Messages. The only reason I'm not full on human like Cassie was when Metatron took his Grace is that I'm also a powerful deity. Playing the field has its advantages."

"Yeah, about that," said Sam thoughtfully, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Why didn't they just take your Grace, like Metatron took Cas'? And where's the milk I just bought?"

Gabriel snorted derisively. "Castiel's a Seraph. I'm an Archangel. Believe me, if they could have just taken my Grace, they would have. It's not that easy. And your milk's here," he added, nodding at the pitcher of chocolate milk sitting on the table in front of him. "I improved it. Help yourself."

Sam scowled at the Archangel, but poured some chocolate milk into his coffee and took a small, trial sip. It wasn't bad.

"Cas did say you were made of different stuff than him," he said, taking the seat next to the angel. " 'Primordial stuff.' He said that's why it would have been so much more difficult for God to bring you back, when we thought you were dead."

"Aww, talking about me, were you?" said Gabriel, waggling his eyebrows. "I knew you missed me."

Sam rolled his eyes; it was becoming his standard reaction to the Trickster Archangel's antics.

"So, you can't use your Grace," the hunter said slowly, musingly, as though he was thinking out loud. "But it's still there, inside of you? Could someone else tap into it and use it? Channel it somehow?"

"No," said Gabriel flatly. All joviality was gone from his voice and his face had turned to stone.

"No, it's not possible, or no, you refuse to do it?"

"No, it's not possible AND no, I refuse to let anyone else use my power ever again." The Archangel's usually dancing eyes were hard and flat, his expression closed and guarded, almost defensive; his voice sent chills down Sam's spine. The hunter resisted the sudden, insane urge to put a hand on the being's shoulder, for fear it would smolder off. For the first time, it occurred to Sam to think about the angel's involvement in the events of the world not in terms of what he had done, but rather what had been done to him.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just…we're kind of at our wit's end here. We're no closer to finding Amara, and even if we were… We've been so focused on finding her that we've barely given any thought to what we'll do once we do. It feels like she's toying with us. And the last time we came face to face with her was a complete disaster. We could really use an advantage here.

"Well then," said Gabriel, standing up and clearing the table with a sweep of his hand, "you'd better find one."

*****Icarus*****

Ok, so maybe he had been just a little bit of an asshole. But it had been a rude thing to ask! Even if it was with the intent of saving the world. From something Sam and his brother had released in the first place! Gabriel scowled at his reflection in the mirror. Artfully messy dark blond hair, liquid golden eyes, a bit of stubble; his chosen form was intentionally good looking, if a bit on the short side. That was intentional too; it was useful when he wanted to be inconspicuous. Plus, it amused him when people underestimated him.

Sam, now there was someone you could pick out in a crowd. Looked more intimidating than he was, most of the time. Not that the man couldn't knock you out cold (or worse) without breaking a sweat if he wanted to. Gabriel had seen him do it. Gabriel had seen the hunter do a lot of things. He had spent months watching as the human unsuccessfully tried to track him down following Dean's death at the Mystery Spot. And even after that, the Trickster had continued to keep tabs on the intriguing hunter. It wasn't every day a human managed to convince him to spare a life, after all. Or take much notice of one at all, really. There had just been something about Sam…

And that was enough of that. Gabriel shook his head and stuck his tongue out at the face in the mirror. After a moment, his reflection followed suit.

*****Icarus*****

Dean was also painfully aware that, in addition to not having had any luck with locating Amara again, they also still had no idea how to proceed once they did so. Truth be told, he didn't even like to think about Amara, though not doing so was nearly impossible. Everything about her gave him the heebie-jeebies, especially his own traitorous reaction to her presence. And speaking of his body's reactions…

"Hello, Dean,"

"Morning, Cas. How did you sleep?"

"I did not," replied to angel. "I no longer need to." Yes, of course. "I spent the night scanning Angel Radio for any word of Amara."

"What? Cas, no. That's too dangerous. What if they'd sensed you? What if they'd found you?"

The angel shrugged. "Luckily they did not. Less luckily, I heard nothing useful. But I will keep trying."

"You will not," protested Dean. "It's too dangerous."

"The Darkness is dangerous," said Castiel, unreadable expression in his blue eyes. "What are we going to do when we do find her?"

"I…don't know," admitted Dean. "But we'll figure something out."

The angel looked unconvinced, but did not pursue the topic further. "How did you sleep, Dean?"

Alone, thought the hunter. "Fine," he said aloud.

"No troublesome dreams?"

"What?" Dean almost yelped, half choking on his coffee, which may or may not have contained a generous measure of whiskey.

"No nightmares," said the angel, looking at him with a mix of concern and confusion. "Bad dreams?"

"No, no, nothing like that," said Dean hurriedly, heat creeping up his neck toward his ears. "It was fine. I slept fine."

The angel continued to look at him oddly, but again did not press the discussion, for which Dean was grateful.

Dean watched his angel help himself to a generous plate of bacon, one of his favorite human indulgences. He had literally sucked the angel off on the hood of his car in a diner parking lot. There was no reason for him to feel embarrassed about having…those kinds of dreams. The problem was, that night in the parking lot had been the last time the two of them had had anything even approaching sexual intimacy outside of the hunter's very vivid, very creative dreams.

It wasn't as though sex were the only thing the elder Winchester thought about, but he did think about it. A lot. With Cas. And the more time that passed without it, the more he thought about it. With Cas. And that was the thing, wasn't it. He was 'with Cas.' Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. Was he? Where they...? What were they? Fuck if he knew. But his usual solution of going to the nearest bar and finding a willing participant to take out his frustrations with didn't really seem like a viable option at the moment. Or, if he was honest with himself, a particularly inviting one. Especially after the, uh, misunderstanding with Amara. And, uh, yeah, thinking about her wasn't exactly helping his situation.

Cas finished loading his plate with bacon and took a seat next to Dean. Right next to Dean—their chairs were practically touching. Dean could feel the warmth radiating from the trenchcoated form beside him. An answering warmth rose up through the hunter's groin.

If their physical proximity had a similar effect on the angel, he wasn't showing it. Castiel had said he wanted a sexual relationship with Dean, and the look in his eyes when they had finally crossed that line… The memory of it still made Dean shiver. But the Seraph hadn't shown any indication of a desire to repeat the experience. Which was fine. Having Cas here. Alive. Safe. That was the most important thing. They had a "profound bond," whatever that meant—Dean had accepted it now. He didn't need to have sex with Cas for that to be true. He just really, really wanted to.

*****Icarus*****

Castiel had never had a favorite color before meeting Dean Winchester. The idea would never had even occurred to him. It hadn't occurred to him until Dean himself had asked him one day.

"Hey Cas, what's your favorite color?"

Castiel had looked at his hunter in confusion, tilting his head like he always did when something didn't quite make sense to him. "All colors are good in their own way," he had been going to say. "They all help God's creations serve their intended purpose."

Then his narrowed eyes had met Dean's inquisitive ones, and he had blurted out the first thing that had come into his suddenly empty mind.

"Green."

The idea had stuck.

Now those green eyes were staring at him again, their expression frustrated, almost pained. He wished Dean would tell him what he wanted when he looked at him like that. It felt like something he should know, or something Dean thought he should know. It made him want to stare back into his hunter's clear, green eyes until he found the answer. Inevitably, Dean would look away before he had.

*****Icarus*****

"What makes you think my Grace would make any difference in fighting Amara anyway?"

Sam jumped and swore. Jumped because the Trickster Archangel had just appeared in what had been thin air right in front of his nose. Swore because he had jumped forward, banging said nose on that Archangel's chest. Wait a minute…

"Are you standing on a chair?"

"All the better to reach you from, my dear," said the Trickster cheerfully, leaning over the chairback and peering down at the tall man's annoyed, and throbbing, face. "Great view from up here."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't need Gabriel to tell him they were going to stick that way, or making it happen. Besides, Sam wasn't sure he'd go so far as to call it pleasant, but it did come as a bit of a surprise that the Archangel talking to him at all; Gabriel had been avoiding him for the past two days, since he had asked whether it would be possible for someone else to channel his Grace against the Darkness.

"Well?"

"Well what?" said Sam, starting once more out of his musings. To cover up the movement, he took a seat in a chair not currently occupied by Gabriel's feet.

"Well water," said Gabriel, chucking at his own joke. "And well, what makes you think my Grace would stand a chance against the Darkness?"

Sam tugged at the ends of his hair, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't earn him another two days of the silent treatment. The hunter's hair was longer than Gabriel remembered; the look suited him.

"I've been having visions," said Sam, after a few moments' thought. "They began after I started praying again. I think they might be God's way of telling me what I have to do to defeat the Darkness."

Visions? From God? Gabriel could count on one hand the number of times he'd received a vision directly from his Father, and he was the Messenger of God.

"And what do you think God is telling you to do?" said Gabriel skeptically. "To defeat the Darkness."

"I think he's saying that we need the help of an Archangel. I think—I thought, he might have sent you to me."

The hunter's faith in him would have been almost touching, if it hadn't been so completely misguided.

"I hate to burst you bubble," said the Archangel, blowing one of his own with what smelled like strawberry flavored gum, "but God hasn't sent me anywhere for a long time. And even at full strength I wouldn't have that kind of power—no singular Archangel would. It took all four of us plus God himself to put her away. And he doesn't seem to be showing any interest in doing so again."

Sam let his head drop into his hands. He had been so sure that Gabriel was the solution to their problem, the answer he had been praying for. Or maybe he has just wanted to be sure. Because the other option…

He lifted his head to acknowledge that it wasn't the angel's fault that he couldn't help them out of the latest mess they'd gotten themselves into, but instead of the Men of Letters Bunker study and Gabriel, he was met with the sight of Lucifer and the Cage, as clear as though he were back there himself. He gasped, the smell of sulfur and brimstone filling his nostrils and scorching his throat.

"Sam? Sam, what do you see?"

Not Lucifer's voice, Gabriel's, trying to pull him back from the vision.

*****Icarus*****

One moment Sam was slumped over in defeat, the next he was sitting bolt upright in his chair, hand pressed to his head as though it might explode, his eyes fixated on something that was not part of the tangible reality of the Men of Letters study.

"Sam?" said Gabriel softy, urgently. "Sam, what do you see?"

He got no answer. The tall hunter showed no sign that he was even aware of the angel's presence. His breath was shallow and rapid, his pulse going a mile a minute. Whatever the vision, it had the man in a state of great distress. Gabriel reached out with the intention of shaking the human back to reality, but the moment he touched Sam's skin, he himself was overwhelmed with the vision.

Dark, so very dark. And closed in. Walls pressing in on him from every side. More sides than any space had a right to have. He was in some sort of box or…or cage. Sam stood behind him, though whether the hunter had placed himself there, or Gabriel had instinctively stepped in front of the human to protect him, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything; his senses were blur, his bound Grace a thick, heavy coil deep inside him. He felt sick with disorientation and dread.

In front of him, grinning languidly as he played idly with an iron chain, the red-hot coils hissing and sizzling against his icy skin, was…oh God…oh Father, please, no…

With all of his strength, Gabriel wrenched his hand from Sam's arm, sending them both toppling from their chairs and onto the blissfully solid kitchen floor of the bunker. Sam landed on his shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise. Gabriel, flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, as much by the vision the two of them had just shared as the impact of the fall.

"What in Asgard's name was that?" said the Archangel, picking himself up off the floor and conjuring a bar of chocolate to occupy his hands and calm his nerves.

"The Cage," said Sam grimly, rising to his own feet. "And Lucifer."

"I could see that," said Gabriel around a rather large mouthful of chocolate. He broke off a sizable portion of the remainder of the bar and held it out to Sam who, somewhat to both of their surprise, accepted. The angel swallowed before continuing. "Why?"

Sam shrugged, wincing at the twinge it caused his shoulder. "I wish I knew for sure. I've been seeing it for a while now. Every time clearer than before. They stopped for a while after you showed up, and I thought maybe…" The hunter shook his head. "But then they started up again, and after what you just told me, I think I know why. I think God's telling me I need to go to the Cage."

AN: And what does Gabriel think of THAT? I wish I could promise you more consistent updates, but I really can't predict how great I'm going to be able to manage that. It shouldn't be too long before the next one, though, and I do still want to write this story to its conclusion.

-SQ