Chapter 2- Tests of Trust
Dean's apartment was not so much a home, but a base from which he operated. Situated in the southeast section of Lawrence, he could easily reach Bobby's, the Roadhouse (when it had existed), Sam's place, and Lisa within 15 minutes. This was something Sam knew his brother was very proud of, even if it was annoying that even in adulthood, he couldn't quite shake Dean off his tail.
Now though, Sam was glad for the closeness. After a quick pitstop to get changed properly (no way was he showing up in Gabe's shirt, however nice it smelled), it didn't take very long at all to get to the relatively new apartment building Dean resided in. His sloppily parked Impala, however beautiful it was, looked like an aged relic in front of the building. Even Gabe seemed a bit caught off guard by how perfectly normal the building looked.
"This is…actually a decent place," he remarked, and Sam chuckled at his clear confusion.
"He only lives here because of Ben," he explained as he unbuckled his seatbelt, "So he can have fun in the pool and stuff, you know?"
Gabe only hummed noncommittally, but Sam could see his aura churning in thought as he clearly reevaluated what he thought of Dean.
That's good, he thought as they walked inside and took the elevator up to the second floor, Maybe this will help reduce the risk of another macho man fight breaking out as soon as we step inside.
The apartment building was shaped like a U, with the aforementioned pool resting inside the U. Dean's apartment was at the top of the U and looked out on the pool, which Ben absolutely loved. What Ben didn't know was that his father had specifically chosen that apartment because an alley ran parallel to the pool beyond the fencing, and it was easy to pull up in it and climb the balcony to his own apartment after one of his fight nights. In a shadier section of town, it wouldn't have been a problem to just walk in through the lobby, but here, questions were bound to be asked if Dean showed up bloody.
Sam didn't bother with the buzzer, instead choosing to resort to their special knock. Dean was cagey when answering the door for people he didn't know were coming, and he didn't want to waste any time.
A very disgruntled Dean yanked open the door, his apple green aura tinted to reflect his sullen attitude as he scowled.
"Cas just told me you guys were showing up," he said, eyes sliding past Sam to fix a brief glare at Gabe, "You might as well come in."
"Is that any way to greet your brother?" Sam joked lightly as they stepped in. The entrance foyer was small, with only a mirrored coat closet to the right and a wobbly wooden table for knick-knacks on the left. Of course, Dean's idea of knick-knacks were brass knuckles and a box of band-aids, but that was neither here nor there.
"Sam's right. You should have greeted him more politely," Cas said from the living room, which was straight ahead and outfitted in typical Dean fashion. One couch, one armchair angled to face it, one rigid wooden chair, a TV, and a coffee table. All the furniture was unassuming, and if it weren't for the clear signs of Ben through the crayon pictures pinned practically everywhere and his scattered things, it would've looked as if it had been ripped from a catalog. Sam knew that the hall across the room led to a bathroom, Dean's room, and Ben's guest room when he stayed over and that with the exception of Ben's room, it was similar to the living room in its spartan fashion.
"You don't get an opinion now since you sold me out," Dean said, green aura flickering as he strode into the living room and sat in the wooden chair. He crossed his arms, planted his feet, and glared at Cas, who sat on the couch surrounded by books and paper, "I told you I didn't want to tell Sammy."
Sam winced slightly. When Dean looked like that, a storm was on the horizon. Him sitting in the wooden chair was even worse; a wooden chair was only used if he was on watch, or if he was feeling tense. It harked back to the very, very old days of their nomadic hotel lifestyle, where Dean had grown accustomed to sitting in whatever uncomfortable chair the hotel provided by the window to wait for John to come back.
Cas only gazed back calmly, unruffled by Dean's feeling of betrayal, which was written all over his face and in the cool yellow that flitted across his aura in spasms. It was an impressive look considering he was only wearing a red dress robe over matching pajamas.
"And I told you that them not knowing was foolish," he said, his blue aura just as smooth and undisturbed as his voice, "I called them because Sam has been in the midst of all this longer than we have and because Gabe doesn't work for the LPD, but is dedicated to solving the case."
He shut his book with a crisp snap, and Sam couldn't help but feel impressed by the way he'd handled Dean. It was similar to the way Lisa would chastise his brother, except Lisa had never managed to sound so…calm while she did so.
"It doesn't matter," Dean snapped back, though his irritation was waning in the unshakeable logic Cas spoke, "Sam has his own life to live and shouldn't have to get caught up in any more of this shit. And I don't trust anyone that's worked with the LPD, point blank. You know why I don't."
Cas knows about Mom?
Judging by the meaningful gaze Dean fixed him, Cas did know.
Sam had to admit, he was shocked by that. His reluctance to discuss Yellow Eyes and their mother was nothing compared to Dean's. Lisa had only gotten the full story, or what constituted as the full story to Dean, shortly after Ben was born, and Dean hated talking about it. For him to have not only told Cas but to also reference it, however vague he thought he was being, in conversation?
What have these two been up to in the last few weeks?
He couldn't be sure, but Sam thought that it had probably been as wild and mind-boggling as his adventures with Gabe.
"You don't get to choose what I do with my time Dean," Sam said, crossing his arms, "And Gabe isn't an LPD lackey. He's a P.I that has his own mind and is pretty good at putting it to use to solve crime. Neither of us is backing down from this."
Gabe stepped up to stand by his side as he spoke, radiating casual confidence and steadfastness that Sam knew had come from their own shared time together. With his hands in his jacket pockets and an easy smirk on his face, it was clear he wasn't going to cave to Dean.
Dean seemed to realize this, his green eyes flicking between the two of them in a suspicious, calculating motion.
Sam fixed his own steady gaze on his brother before his eyes slid pointedly to Cas, who was watching all three of them with his own unreadable gaze.
You can suspect all you want about us, but I'm doing the same right back with you and Cas.
The silent message was received loud and clear. Dean sat back in his chair a bit and kept his mouth shut, and Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief as they avoided that particular disaster. He still had to work out what exactly was going on between him and Gabe, and he didn't want Dean to meddle by making some asinine comments.
He has just as much, if not more, to work out with Cas anyway, he thought as Cas' aura reached out slightly towards Dean's, the blue mingling with the green at the very edges in what looked like a brush of comfort, He doesn't even seem to realize how close they've gotten.
"It's dangerous," Dean said, fingers gripping the arms of the chair, "You said you wanted to stay out of crap like this for the longest, but now you want to get your hands dirty? Sammy, don't you want to go back to college, and being a student? To normal?"
Sam thought Dean would bring this up. He could see Cas and Gabe's auras shift towards confusion but ignored them as he looked Dean in the eye.
"I can't. I'm in too deep," he replied softly, taking a few steps towards Dean so he could lower his voice further. He wasn't sure how his brother would react to what he was about to bring up, "Dean, this isn't just about the Dead Eyes or even the serial killer. It's also about Mom."
Dean's eyes lit up, and he sat up immediately, leaning forward as his green aura lashed about him with the conflicting emotions that always came when he thought of Mom.
"What is it, Sammy?"
Sam bit his lip, "Did…did you know the Feds were close to coming in on the case?"
Dean blinked before shaking his head, "No, just what Dad told us, and he never mentioned anything like that. Why didn't they take over the case?"
"They didn't come in on the case because they didn't think your mother was one of his victims to begin with."
Both Sam and Dean whipped their heads back to Gabe, who was standing in the middle of the living room and snuck up on them. His face had fallen into P.I mode, but there were traces of softness in eyes and a bit of guilt in his aura.
"I was going to tell you yesterday Sam, but then the fire happened," he explained, sighing as he raked a hand through his hair, "Jody and Donna figured out who you were, and pulled Mary's case file. They found out from the notes inside that your mother wasn't classified as one of Yellow Eyes victims until 24 hours after she'd been killed for fear of public backlash."
"But then Yellow Eyes never struck again, so it turned into a cold case that remained within the LPD's jurisdiction," Gabe finished, inclining his head slightly, "I doubt anyone besides those originally involved and us know of this."
Never trust the LPD to do anything right.
Dean was the first to react. His aura practically exploded outward, washing Sam in shades of vivid green as he stood to pace back and forth in front of the French doors that led out to the balcony.
"I knew it. Dad knew it," he said fiercely, going back and forth as his aura lashed out in anger and victory and the desire to know more, "We never had confirmation, and Dad just had his suspicions, but we knew something was wrong…"
He continued to go back and forth as he dissolved into incomprehensible mutters. Cas stood, probably to help him calm down, leaving Sam to reel in the middle of the living room.
John was…right?
Sam always thought John had just been obsessive over it. Losing your wife to a serial killer and then never finding her body would do that to someone, and Sam never blamed the man for his grief. He had just thought his paranoia and hatred for the LPD was just a manifestation of his grief, and that it was all overblown hysteria. Sure, the LPD had been incompetent for never catching Yellow Eyes, and Sam had always suspected that maybe something had been awry with the whole case, but to have confirmation that John's old mutterings about conspiracy and corruption weren't baseless was something entirely different.
A tentative hand clasped his shoulder, and Sam looked down to see Gabe looking at him apologetically.
"Sorry for springing it on you like that, Sammo," he said, and the Winchester shook his head.
"There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad to know," he responded, steering them back towards the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by nothing but an archway and the shift from carpet to tile. Dean and Cas' auras were growing larger and larger as their hushed conversation grew, threatening to give him a headache from the sheer power behind the colors.
Having all three of them in a confined space probably isn't the best idea, Sam thought as they both leaned against the kitchen counter, facing out into the living room. He hadn't noticed it last night because they'd been outside in the open when they'd all spoken (not to mention how tired and distracted he'd been), but all three of them had their own strong, potent auras that reacted just as strongly with each other.
Gabe was like the sun beside him, dominating the kitchen with his golden glow. His expression was easy enough, but he wasn't done asking questions yet.
"He reacted pretty explosively compared to you," he stated, not looking at him.
Sam shrugged, watching Dean and Cas' auras interact as he tried to find the right words to say.
"Dean knew her better," he started, watching as blue and green struggled back and forth. Cas was like the ocean, steady and constant and insistent with every crashing wave of blue, gradually beating down the frantic, explosive supernova that Dean possessed. It was interesting to see Dean's aura tamed in such a way, "He was young when she died, but he just…knew her better. He can remember enough of the old days when John was happy with her and happy with us, and everyone was happy, that the injustice of her death hit a lot harder."
"And you were just a baby. You couldn't possibly remember her."
Sam nodded, "I don't have that connection. All I've heard are stories of her, and I've seen pictures and her gravestone, but it isn't the same. Sometimes I think I remember what it was like to be hidden in that tree hollow, and feel the cold and smell dirt, but I know it's just my mind creating a ghost memory of what I know happened."
He was telling Gabe a lot more than he originally wanted to, but Sam found it wasn't as awkward or embarrassing as he thought it'd be. Gabe's aura was still the same by his side, and it didn't feel like he was pushing him to say anything. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, waiting for the storm that Dean Winchester was to blow over.
"It's hard to miss someone you never knew," Sam summed up, feeling a small amount for pity at that moment for John and Dean. Over the years, he'd tried to explain why he didn't feel the same way as they did when it came to Mom, but he'd never been able to put it into words right, and they had never understood.
They stood in silence for a moment, and Dean calmed down a bit more as Cas clasped his shoulder and turned him around roughly to pin him with a stern gaze. Sam could make out some of their words now but tuned them out as Gabe shifted by his side.
"I never knew my parents," he said quietly, eyes still fixed ahead at some far-off point Sam couldn't see, "So I never really missed them. Just the idea of parents, ya know?"
Sam knew. It was the feeling he'd had when he watched the other kids make Mother's Day cards and chatter about the moms that packed their lunches and kissed their boo-boos. It was the feeling he'd had when the soccer moms came to pick up their angsty middle schoolers; the kids that took their moms for granted. In those moments, he hadn't so much missed Mary Winchester but missed the idea of her.
"Yeah, I know."
They looked at each other then, and for the second time that day, Sam felt that they came to another agreement, or formed some sort of connection. This was something not related to the case that they shared, and neither of them was shying away from it.
Which was why Sam felt it was safe to ask something that had come to mind and stayed in his head ever since he'd learned Gabe had been a foster kid. It wasn't something that gnawed at him incessantly (he'd been too busy for such a thing), but he was curious, and in this strange moment they shared, it slipped out.
"Do you know anything about your parents?"
Gabe's aura rolled in on itself, the only unusual sign to mark the taboo nature of the subject they were broaching. His moment of turmoil passed though, and he smiled a half smile as his aura settled back down into a pale, reminiscing shade of gold.
"No. I was left on the doorstep of a church when I was a month old, which was all I managed to get from my case worker before I turned 18."
"And after?" Sam asked, caught up in Gabe's expression. It was obvious this had been something he had been bitter and pained over at one point, but not anymore. There was an odd sort of acceptance to it all now, as if he had willed himself into ignoring all the heartache.
"I looked at my file, and it didn't fill in many more blanks," he said, scoffing a bit, "I had been left in a baby carrier, with a short note that stated that my name was Gabriel, my birthday, and that I had been left because the angels said so."
Sam blinked, both at the strange reasoning and the faint bitterness that had crept in towards the end.
"They just…left you there? Because the angels said so?" he asked, suddenly feeling a small flicker of anger at the injustice of it. Who could just-dump Gabe like that at a church?
An image of a small baby crying on the steps of a dark, empty church filled his head, and Sam shoved it away ruthlessly. He didn't want to think of Gabe as some helpless infant, not when he was far from helpless now.
He knew it'd haunt him though, much like the memory he'd formulated of that tree hollow he'd been stuffed in as a baby sometimes did. There was just something wrong about babies left on their own in places they shouldn't be.
"Along with some other religious nonsense," Gabe said with a wave of his hand, "It was probably better I hadn't been with my parents anyway, because whoever had written that note sounded crazy."
Judging from his aura, he didn't quite believe his words, but Sam didn't call him on it. Maybe later, when they were alone.
A sudden pressure eased in the air, and Sam turned his attention back to Dean and Cas. Dean's aura was back to normal as he sat down in the couch, jostling some of Cas' things. Cas said something grumpily as he moved things around to sit beside Dean, who only rolled his eyes and smirked back.
"It looks like they got things settled," Gabe said with a telling arch of his eyebrow.
"Leave them be," Sam warned tiredly as he saw that devious smirk appear to melt away the past that lingered on Gabe's face.
His eyes sparkled with mischief though as he bounded out of the kitchen, and Sam sighed before following him out.
At least I tried.
"So now that you two have had your little discussion, let's have ours!" Gabriel said as he plopped down into the armchair, crossed his legs, and smiled brightly.
Sam was left to sit in the wooden chair, which he pulled up to be closer to Gabe and flipped around so he could straddle it. It felt very much as if he was some sort of royal advisor being allowed permission to sit by the throne, and the impression was made even worse as Gabe's aura shifted to reflect just how much of a-well, asshole-he was about to become.
He's not so much of an asshole once you get to know him, but this is definitely going to get on Dean's nerves, he thought warily as his brother sat up just a bit straighter on the couch, Two assholes don't equal a saint.
It was clear that Gabe wanted to put their moment, and all thoughts of his past, behind him, and was willing to overcompensate outwardly to do so. Sam wasn't sure how, and even if, he should curb what was probably going to be a very bold, brash method of conversation, so he decided to let things play out for now. He had played mediator yesterday and wasn't willing to continually fall into the role that he thought would be a constant if Dean and Gabe kept up their hostility to each other.
If I'm lucky, the information Gabe gave us about Mom will keep Dean on track, and my disapproving presence will keep Gabe from being too mouthy.
"You've been working the serial killer case the whole time?" Dean asked, trying to sound civil. He was a bit gruff, and his eyes had that hard spark he got when he was dealing with an unknown element he was still trying to work out, but it was a good start.
"Up until I got kicked off the case last week," Gabe replied bluntly, still smiling merrily, "I am just a P.I and consultant, and detectives get free reign over who they allow onto their special little task forces."
"They have a task force?"
Gabe nodded, rapping his fingers on the armchair, "They're not exactly a very good one, but task forces look great on paper. Makes the LPD feel like they're doing something special and productive."
A mocking smirk graced the P.I's face as he said this, and if it weren't for the fact that he was disparaging of the LPD, Sam knew his brother would've been itching to punch the damned thing right off his face.
That didn't stop Dean's aura from swirling just a bit faster, or his nostrils to flare. Sam just mentally crossed his fingers and nudged Gabe's foot with his own in an attempt to warn him that he was toeing a very dangerous line.
"I've been on my fair share of task forces, so I can say with a good amount of certainty that this one is going to face a lot of pressure from all sides to look like they're making progress," Gabe continued, but with no smirk this time, "If they had me, they could be making some actual progress, but unfortunately, I did not make Bela's cut."
Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head as his aura swirled with interest.
"Any chance you're referring to Bela Talbot?"
Gabe seemed momentarily thrown by Dean's question, and Cas cocked his head to show his own confusion. Sam sat up with interest though, a small suspicion beginning to form as he took in his brother's unusually composed face.
How does he know Bela Talbot?
"How do you know Talbot?" Gabe asked, unknowingly repeating Sam's internal question, and Dean's composure cracked a bit as he scratched his neck.
"Well…lots of people know about her," he said, eyes flicking around before landing on Sam, "But my buddies know her pretty well."
Mayhem Arena.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that Dean had abruptly dropped off Ben to go fight a guy that wanted a rematch from Mayhem Arena. Mayhem Arena was just one of the underground fighting circles in Lawrence, but it was easily the biggest and most well-known. It wasn't just some basketball court fight with money exchanged haphazardly or an after-hours fight spot in a boxing club. Mayhem Arena was a complex network of money and fighters that the LPD had never been able to crack and had been that way for years.
But they have attempted before, and Talbot is supposed to be one of their best detectives.
"Does she try to bust guy's night?" Sam asked casually, and Dean nodded.
"What's going on? There's some sort of code being exchanged here," Gabe demanded, gesturing back and forth between the two brothers, and Cas sighed.
"I suspect this is a 'Winchester thing'," he said with air quotes, a strangely loveable action that successfully defused the rising tension, "It's best to just let it go."
Gabe crossed his arms and pouted dramatically, but surprisingly did as Cas asked.
"Anyway," Dean said after shooting Cas a half exasperated, half amused looked, "I still don't know what to make of you. Talbot kicked you off the case, which means you were free of the responsibility. That should've been the end of it for you, but it wasn't. Why are you still pursuing it? Do you want a slice of the action?"
Sam knew Gabe's reason, or at least his main ones. He wasn't sure if he would tell Dean, and he wouldn't be overly upset if he did (maybe embarrassed; Gabe had basically stayed on the case because he'd convinced him to), but he watched Gabe carefully regardless.
"Because it's my job," the P.I said simply, eyes bright, "I've never left a case unsolved if I could help it, and I can do something about this one. The LPD is in the midst of fucking this up, and I don't know about you, but I don't want this one to end up like Yellow Eyes."
He hadn't said it, but 'Mary Winchester' could be read between the lines.
Well done, Gabe, Sam thought as Dean leaned back and visibly processed what he'd heard. Gabe had unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly; the man was good at reading people) appealed to Dean's sense of duty and had also linked things back to the past that still haunted them. Combined with the admittance on his part that the LPD was screwing things up, Sam was sure that Gabe had knocked the brunt of Dean's arguments against them out for the count.
And isn't that ironic when Dean's the fighter?
"I need a beer," Dean said suddenly, standing up and stretching, "You want one Sammy?"
Dean rarely asked if he wanted a beer; Sam was no fan of it, and he knew that. Him asking made him frown, because his brother wouldn't ask unless he had a reason.
He shook his head, and Dean glanced at Cas. It seemed it was only out of habit though because Cas sniffed distastefully and shook his head as well.
"You know I don't like those beverages."
"And you know I think you should loosen up a bit, Novak," he said, but in a teasing tone of voice Sam had only ever heard him use with a few people.
The faint suspicion that had formed when Dean had first asked about beer only solidified when he didn't ask Gabe if he wanted one. It was in his aura too, a core of determination more solid than the free-flowing shades of green.
He walked towards the kitchen, casual as can be, and as soon as he had, Sam turned to face Gabe.
"Drink the beer he brings you," he said, lowering his voice so Dean wouldn't hear them. His brother's hearing was too good, and the kitchen was too close.
"But he didn't ask me if I wanted one," Gabe pointed out, and Sam shook his head.
"It's a test. Drink the beer he brings you, or else this whole thing goes up in flames!"
"You're not making any sense!" the P.I exclaimed, and Sam gestured for him to lower his voice frantically as the fridge door opened.
"It's a Dean Winchester thing," he hissed hurriedly, "Just go with it!"
"You're being paranoid!"
"You're being difficult!"
Cas' aura grew bright cobalt on the couch with amusement as they leaned closer and closer.
"Just drink it," he hissed, and Gabe scowled. The expression pulled down his features and made Sam want to smooth his brow with his thumb as he'd taken to doing lately.
"No I won't; he's just going to come out with one beer-"
The fridge door shut, and they pulled away in silent, but mutual accord as if they hadn't just been nose to nose a minute ago arguing. Sure enough, Dean was carrying two beer bottles and accompanying coasters, and Sam made sure to shoot Gabe a triumphant look mixed with a warning one to make sure he drank the beer.
"Nice day outside. Ben will probably want to go into the pool soon," Dean remarked, cracking open his own beer bottle with a practiced flick of his wrist. It was as if they hadn't discussed anything serious at all, and to an outsider, the sudden change in subject would've been odd, but convincing.
It just made Sam sweat, and wish for Gabe to hurry up and drink the goddamn beer.
Dean's aura churned on as if everything was normal. Cas' was confused but flickered blue lightning as he began to catch on that the strangeness of it all wasn't on accident. Gabe's aura caught on to the fact that something was off because there were two beers, and then wariness, and then calculation.
Sam hoped Gabe put the intelligence he knew he had to use and drank the beer.
A moment passed because Gabe was naturally wary and more thoughtful then he let off, but he drank the beer.
It was like someone flicked a switch. Sam allowed himself one brief moment of relief (miracles do happen for Winchesters) before answering Dean casually.
"You know Lisa won't let Ben dip a toe in the water until May."
"Ben will be fine," Dean said flippantly before he seemed to think for a few seconds, "But you're right. The chlorine smell always lingers, and she'll get a whiff of it."
Sam shook his head (coming to the right decision for the wrong reasons was common with Dean), and Cas suddenly piped up.
"Dean, I think I heard Bee. Perhaps-"
"That damned cat!" Dean exclaimed before Cas could finish, shooting to his feet and setting his beer down hard enough to make the table vibrate. "I swear if I see one claw mark on anything…"
He disappeared down the hall, leaving the three of them in the living room.
"What did the beer signify?" Cas asked, beating Gabe to the chase. His eyes sparkled with amusement at Dean's clear distaste for his cat, which Sam was surprised had even been let into the apartment to begin with.
"It's one of Dean's…tests, of sorts," Sam explained, "You know how distrustful he is. It's not always beer, but he'll bring something out when he wants to determine some level of trust. If the guest drinks it, then he knows that they trust him enough to drink his drinks, and he can, in turn, trust them."
"What kind of twisted logic is that?" Gabe asked incredulously, and Sam shrugged.
"When it comes to trust, Dean never takes the first step. You have to prove to him that you trust him, and in his head, that shows that he can trust you more than he initially would've."
It was one of Dean's many small quirks that he'd developed over the years. Sam was familiar with many of them, as he'd been right by his side when he saw Dean go from a freckly, grinning kid to a man that made a living off of the violent tendencies of human nature. He always carried a knife on him, made sure to sit where he could see the entrance in a public place whenever he could, and immediately went to evasive maneuvers if he even suspected he was being followed in the Impala. He was also a loving father and fiercely protective of his family, but that was all woven in with what he had been taught.
Dean wore their training proudly like a second skin and had made it his own, however messed up it would appear to others. Sam was like a snake that had shed its skin to gain a fresh start, only to find that the patterns that adorned him remained the same.
"Your stupid cat is asleep," Dean grumbled as he came back, "I think your hearing is starting to go, Cas."
"Perhaps," Cas responded amicably, remaining unfazed as Dean continued to grumble about spoiled felines and aging bookworms. Only a faint shadow of a smile could have possibly exposed his ruse to get his brother to leave.
"Cas, did you translate the message left with Mitchell?" Gabe asked suddenly, "You mentioned on the phone that they had managed to get a photocopy of it."
"I did," the Enochian expert confirmed, "It's shorter than the rest, but it's very telling…"
He trailed off as he began to rifle through the papers that surrounded him, batting away Dean's clumsy attempts to help (much to Sam's amusement), before procuring a piece of paper.
"Ah ha! I knew I had it," he said before handing it over, "This is the only copy of the translation, so there's no way the Dead Eyes have it."
"'He did nothing to save innocent souls from Hell and turned a blind eye to their suffering,'" Gabe read out loud, "Sam, this sounds like it could fit-"
"Our theory," he finished, scooting the chair even closer to Gabe, "Let me see."
"What theory?" Dean asked as Sam studied the runes Cas had copied at the top, and the translation at the bottom.
Gabe began to explain their theory of why Mitchell had been killed. Sam handed Cas back the paper once the P.I had finished, who handed it to Dean when he gestured that he wanted to see it.
"So, you try to decipher this guy's psychobabbling?" he asked, shaking his head in distaste at the paper. Sam figured he would; while Dean was much more apt at reading criminals and degenerates than he let on, he preferred fighting and bringing them down more than psychoanalyzing them.
That had been left more up to be in the old days.
"Among other things. We've deduced that Hell represents gangs, or maybe a specific gang, and that he's pretty confident he won't be caught before he finishes his 'mission', but that's about it,'" Gabe responded.
Dean looked at Sam, "And you're just going along with all of this."
Sam looked back just as steadily, tossing his head a bit as he answered.
"You can't stop me."
A flare of protective green from Dean's aura was the only sign he showed that he disagreed with him. Outwardly, he grumbled and griped under his breath, seizing his beer to hide a glare behind the bottle.
Sam smiled slightly. Dean wasn't accepting of it (he'd have been surprised if he had been; Dean was overprotective to a fault), but he had accepted that Sam wasn't going to defer to him in this. They would probably clash again over this later, and maybe a few more times after that, but it'd just be brotherly bickering. In the end, they both knew that he was sticking around.
Sometimes, he thought it was good that he'd let his brother be the boss when they were kids. It made moments like this when he managed to one-up him all the sweeter.
"I hate it when you get like that," Dean muttered at last, sounding almost mournful as he twirled his now empty bottle around his fingers in a trick Sam knew he'd spent ages perfecting, "It's like talking to a wall."
"No one's stopping you from talking to one," Sam quipped happily, letting his triumph shine through his now wide grin, and his brother snorted.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
They both grinned, leaving their respective partners disconcerted.
"Is that another Winchester thing?" Gabe stage whispered to Cas, who shook his head wearily and stood with a heavy tome in his hand. Sam was surprised the entire thing hadn't fallen apart at the seams; it was that ancient.
"I've just accepted that Winchesters have their own social nuances separate from the rest of the world. Dean, I'm partaking in your coffee," he announced, shuffling towards the kitchen.
"Not when you don't know where my coffee grounds are," Dean said cheekily from his very settled position on the couch.
Cas paused halfway in his trek to the kitchen and fixed a deadpan glare on him that could've rivaled any of Sam's various bitch faces. His aura was charged electric blue with discontent, a sharp contrast to the utter blankness on his expression.
"I'm making coffee one way or another. It would be best if you were more assistive, or do I need to remind you what happened when I didn't have my usual cup of coffee?"
Sam wasn't sure what Cas was referring to, but whatever it was couldn't have been good if it made Dean go pale that fast.
Gabe snickered as his brother practically shot up from the couch and went to help a now satisfied Cas fix up a pot of coffee.
"He's completely whipped, and he doesn't even know it!"
"I haven't seen Dean move that was since he got the call Lisa was in labor," Sam said thoughtfully, "You should've seen him. He practically dragged me out from my classes so I could be his 'moral support' at the hospital."
"And how'd that go?" Gabe asked, eyes bright with amusement.
"Poorly," Sam said dryly, "Dean was practically out of his mind with worry and panic, so they ended up kicking him out for most of it while I stayed with Lisa."
Gabe laughed, turning in his armchair to face Sam better. He was obviously enthralled, propping his chin in his hand as his gold aura swirled responsively around him.
"You didn't have to cut the cord, did you?"
"Oh no," Sam said with a slight shake of his head, "Dean managed to get himself together for that."
Gabe nodded before suddenly sobering up with a tilt of his head.
"You were even younger when Ben was born," he said, obviously doing the mental math, "15?"
"Yeah. Ben's birth was a highlight of my sophomore year," Sam said proudly.
And it had been. Of course, he'd run through many of the same emotions that his brother had at the beginning: worry, panic, fear, and doubt. They had been trained to handle the scum of society, not infants and the people they grew up to be. Sam had thought he would make a horrible uncle, and that if Lisa wanted the best for who at the point had just been a nameless fetus, then she would keep the child far, far away from him.
Lisa hadn't cared about any of the concerns he'd managed to stumble through when she'd confronted him about how he felt about the whole situation. He'd thought she'd just seen him as Dean's geeky little brother, but she had had trust and faith in him, and it had been enough or raise Sam's low opinion of himself. By the time Ben had been born and he'd laid sight on his scrunched-up face, he knew that he loved his nephew, even if he wasn't sure how to be the best uncle he could be for him.
"It must've been hard," Gabe remarked, and Sam shrugged a shoulder.
"It was hard, adjusting," he answered, thinking back to all books he'd devoured on child rearing once he'd accepted that he had the potential to be a good uncle. Of course, books only helped so much, "Dean more so, because he was…well, he wasn't sure if he could be a good father, and I was still in high school trying to balance a lot of other stuff on top of being an uncle. I don't even know how Lisa did it."
"Ben's got a good support system. I think you did good, Sam-a-lam."
"You think so?" Sam asked, not so much disbelieving, but curious if Gabe really meant what he said. He did think Ben was lucky to have such devoted parents and him as an uncle (and as a third parent at this point really), but his parental figures weren't exactly normal.
At least, he and Dean. Sam still secretly thought Lisa was the best maternal figure he could think of.
Gabe's aura held no hint of a lie, partial or full, as he nodded.
"Of course, kiddo! Honestly, I don't see how you could be a bad uncle at all," he said with a scoff, "I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but you tend to go above and beyond with whatever you set your mind to."
Sam flushed. He had indeed been told that on multiple occasion. A few people had said it was stubbornness, but Sam just thought it was his own need to prove himself capable of completing any task before him, and just naturally wanting to do his best while he was at it. He wasn't as pigheaded as Dean (perish the thought!), but he had just as much willpower.
A knowing smirk graced Gabe's face, and Sam pointedly ignored him as Dean and Cas emerged from the kitchen. Cas was carrying a steaming mug and had a much more content aura flowing around him. Dean looked less fearful but still gave the Enochian expert a few sidelong glances as they rearranged themselves on the couch. It was the same expression one used when looking at a collared, but dangerous animal, and Sam snorted quietly at the imagery.
Dean may have a stormy personality, but it's good to know Cas can be fearsome in his own right.
"Help yourself, Sammy," his brother said, gesturing with a lazy hand to the kitchen, "Cas made me buy decent grounds instead of the instant coffee you call trash."
"Because it is," Sam retorted back before shaking his head with a sigh, "But we should really get going. I've got a bunch of schoolwork to catch up on, and Gabe has other cases to look at too."
"But those are boring," Gabe whined, earning a sharp look from Sam.
"And they're the ones that'll keep you financially afloat while we work together. Need I remind you you're not getting paid to chase the Crucifier?"
Sam almost said Death but substituted it at the last second. He had a feeling he was the only one that really referred to the killer like that.
Maybe it's because of the sleepwalking and future-seeing I've been doing, but Death suits the maniac a hell of a lot better than The Crucifier.
Gabe grumbled and crossed his arms, but his aura reflected that he understood his point.
"Call us if you learn anything," Sam said, setting the chair back in its rightful place near the window, "Especially if it's the Dead Eyes. They're getting bolder by the day now."
"That goes for you too, Sammy," Dean said, standing as well. His eyes were slightly narrowed in the familiar, all-knowing 'I'm-the-big-brother-and-know-you-well' look, "Don't try to take on too much shit at once, and don't think you can't tell me anything. We're in the same boat right now."
With a pang, Sam remembered his sleepwalking, not to mention Ben's, and the memory of the cabin. He'd meant to tell Dean but now wasn't the right time. Not in front of Cas and Gabe, and not so soon after the way Cas' apartment had been ransacked. It would be an explosive conversation, especially since it involved Ben.
We may be sailing closer now, but we're still in different boats, he thought they said their goodbyes and left, I'll have to tell him soon though, or else Lisa will take it upon herself to do so.
"You ok, kiddo?"
Sam looked down at Gabe, who was giving him a look of concern. They had somehow gotten outside, and he realized he must've spaced out enough to cause the P.I to worry.
He took in the golden aura, which was unfurling in happy waves of soft color to greet the early spring sun, and determined his friend (that a thought he'd have to get used to) had come out from meeting Dean just fine. Gabe was the resilient type and had proven it time and time again.
"Yeah, I just want to get back home. It's been a wild weekend," he said with a half-smile that drew a faint snort from the P.I.
"I'm sure you'll have lots of stories to tell when you go back to school tomorrow," he commented as they got into the Beetle.
Sam grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to going back to campus; the apathy he'd acquired towards law school had lingered, but he knew he had to. He wasn't so thrown off his regular routine that he didn't want to be a lawyer. The world would have to stop spinning on its axis and collapse in fiery ruin for that to happen, as Sam had had this ambition since he was young. It was just a crucial part of him as his surname or his ability to see auras.
I'm just having more fun working with Gabe right now. That's all.
The faint doubt still stuck in his head though as Gabe drew him into a conversation with a joke and drove him home. If even his deep-rooted aspiration to be a lawyer was being shaken by the events unfolding around him, then what else could possibly follow in the future to top the changes he was already going through?
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Lots of new info for you guys to chew on in this one, along with some additions to old stuff. I definitely had fun writing Dean/Cas interacting in this, though it did feel a bit weird since I'm so used to writing Sam/Gabe interacting more. They will show up more in this story, along with a lot of other familiar (and unfamiliar) characters ;)
The next chapter will be more actiony and less dialogue, and there'll be a Gabe POV chapter sometime soon. His POV will appear much more in this story, but Sam's will remain predominant as always. I just like writing aura descriptions. Oops!
Review as always, you amazing people, and I'll hopefully see you in the next couple of weeks!