Chapter 25: Unlikely Partnerships
Trying to lead the task force in the right direction without implicating himself and anyone else for their less than legal methods of information retrieval was easily one of the toughest tasks of Gabe's day. It wasn't his first time playing with fire, but the stakes had never been this high before. Here, Gabe had to contend with the FBI, and the web he wove had to be impeccable to snare the serial killer and be done with it.
The slow-going process took the better part of the afternoon, but as the sunset, Gabe's silver tongue finally wielded results. Ironically, Hannah ended up being the last push needed.
Hannah was brought in around mid-afternoon to give a statement on what she'd seen in the subbasement. By this point, Gabe had set aside the Max Miller problem and focused on steering people into focusing on the victimology and the killing cohort; specifically that of the three hapless librarians. Thanks to Hoffman's unusual demise in comparison to the rest, it wasn't so hard a task to convince them that the librarians had a special place in all this, but Gabe found himself hard-pressed to help the others form the bridge between them and the killer. Convincing them of his partner theory met even more resistance.
Tired and missing Sam more than a little (especially after their phone call), Gabe slipped into the conference room where Michael (everyone on the task force had practically been ordered to call him that) and Jody were taking Hannah's statement for some respite from the bullpen. Separate, they were sharp investigators, but together, they were nearly unstoppable. He'd already gotten curious gazes from Jody for his word dances, and Gabe didn't dare wonder what Michael thought of his subtly pointed suggestions. He suspected the man's affable nature and his waning energy were the only things shielding him from further scrutiny.
"And you're sure you saw this down there?" Michael asked for the second time.
"Yes," Hannah said simply, unfazed by the insistence. "Believe me, I know it sounds ludicrous, but I can assure you I retained all my mental faculties."
"Don't worry, we know," Jody comforted, smile wry. At this point, she'd interacted enough with Cas that Gabe knew she was nothing but amused at the similarities between the adoptive siblings.
"And Enochian is only your brother's specialty."
An odd question for him to ask, Gabriel thought as Hannah dipped her head once more.
"It's been his area of expertise for quite some time. It's always made Max jealous how easily he grasps the language."
Oh, you sly girl.
Gabe bit his lip to keep from grinning as Michael visibly perked up from writing in a journal that was uncannily similar to his. Hannah's face, a picture-perfect mask of academic innocence and younger sister pride, revealed nothing that so much as hinted at her unfolding machination.
"Max? Is he a friend of your brother's?" Michael asked, professional tone only slightly tinged by interest. He didn't want to get his hopes up.
Jody was a bit slower on the draw (Gabe was sure she hadn't slept in her own bed for a week), but she caught up with startling speed, leaning forward to listen to Hannah's response.
"Oh, no, nothing like that! He's just a frequent visitor at the history building. Despite being a comp sci major, Max was there almost as much as I was," she joked, toying with a strand of black hair.
"How well does he know Enochian?"
"Fairly well considering he only started learning it when…well, when he was a freshman I suppose. He's a junior now," Hannah added helpfully. "A bit odd that he's so dedicated to it when he won't go into the field for it."
Gabe leaned back against the door, watching with a strange sense of pride as Hannah laid out the legal groundwork for pursuing Max Miller as a suspect. For someone so inconspicuous, Hannah had a surprising amount of nerve and the ability to weave a good tale.
Strict parents raise sneaky kids.
"Was he there the day you found the subbasement?" Jody eventually asked.
Hannah tilted her head in a façade of thought, waiting the appropriate amount of time before answering.
"Yes. I had a brief conversation with him. Small talk about the weather; that sort of thing. I was surprised to see him since LU started restricting who could go where."
"How would you describe him?"
"A bit reserved. Hung up on high school, but that's nothing abnormal on campus," Hannah shrugged, intertwining her fingers. "He's very focused. Average appearance, but his drive is apparent when you look at him."
"Do you know anything about his personal life?" Michael asked.
Hannah shook her head regretfully.
"I just know he commutes to campus and doesn't have a mother," she said, pausing tactfully. "Agent Arch, do you think…?"
"No need to fret. Just asking routine questions," he replied with a winsome smile that didn't convince any of them. "Thank you for your time, Miss Novak. Allow me to escort you out."
"Something tells me Max Miller isn't an unfamiliar name to you," Jody muttered, sidling up to him as Michael walked Hannah out of the station.
"I will neither confirm nor deny, but I will remind you that I do try to keep from taking legal shortcuts when I can."
Jody snorted. "You don't try very hard some days, but touché. Is that why you've been holding a carrot on a stick all day leading the others around?"
Gabe looked sharply at her, wondering if he could deflect, but gave it up as a lost cause when he saw no anger on her face.
"No one else will notice. You're a wily bastard," Jody conceded grudgingly, "And I know Charlie. She hasn't said anything to me, but if anyone could've gotten that name for you, it would've been her."
Gabe mentally groaned. He'd completely forgotten about Charlie knowing the dynamic duo. Hell, they'd been coordinating before department politics butted in; of course they'd still be in contact!
"Just…keep doing what you're doing," Jody clapped his shoulder and strode past him, giving him a stern look over her shoulder. "Even if I don't know everything yet."
"The show of trust warms my heart!" he called after her.
After that, pieces started falling into place. Invigorated by the seemingly slim lead he'd been tossed, Michael descended upon the life of Max Miller with zeal, and in the process, unearthed quite the treasure trove of information. Gabe hadn't had the opportunity to sniff out much of Miller beyond the basics and watched the agent hunch over his laptop with a mixture of amusement and interest. He'd never seen the Feds at work up close and personal and found Arch's process intriguing.
(And if he admired it because it mirrored Gabe's own, right down to the journal he took notes in, that was just him enjoying the irony. A lot of federal agents would be pissed to learn they had anything in common with a P.I.)
"Is he okay?" Donna asked tentatively when Michael twirled his pen and stabbed it down in the direct center of his journal, all the while glaring at his screen.
"Oh yeah, I think he's close to a breakthrough," Gabe mock whispered, looking up from the graffiti pictures and locations he'd been assigned to sort through. "Coffee for me?"
"Coffee for you," she confirmed with a smile, handing him the steaming mug. "Jody told me to tell you that you're to clock out at 5 because your dark circles are, and I quote, 'a monstrosity to look at'."
"Psh. Pot calling the kettle black," Gabe dismissed, used to Jody's backhanded ways of showing concerned. "Where is she anyway?"
Donna glanced at Michael before saying, "Bringing up some boxes," and directly after mouthing "Evidence locker."
Gabe arched his eyebrows. He knew that Jody and Donna had taken it upon themselves to dig deeper into the potential drug case the FBI was sneaking out from under the noses of the LPD, but he didn't think she'd be curious enough to go as far as to look at evidence. Jody was high up enough on the chain that a few well-placed phone calls could've eased any concerns she had about it.
Unless there is cause for concern.
"Well, I've sorted through two quadrants worth of graffiti, and I need a break. Mikey, if you get any closer to the computer screen, you're going to fall through it."
"Mikey?" Arch questioned, looking mildly dazed as he wrenched himself away from the screen.
"Ah, don't take it personally. Gabe gives everyone a nickname eventually," Donna explained as Gabe left the conference room.
He'd technically been honest about needing a break. The Enochian moved more than ever and more than once he'd had to stop himself from mouthing the words as he linked up locations with pictures. All of it was in the same vein as the messages from the beginning; proclamations of revenge laced with biblical references and ominous tones, but everyone wanted their bases covered. Poor Cas would probably be called in the morning to come down and translate it all.
But more importantly, Gabe wanted to know what Jody was up to. The detective could handle herself ten times over, but Gabe's shoulder blades were itching up a storm at the thought of demon blood in Lawrence. A large part of him-the one exhausted by the search for The Crucifier and daunted by the idea of tracking down Yellow Eyes-simply wanted to hand it over to the FBI and call it a day. He had a boyfriend now, and danger already overflowed from their plates.
A deeper part of him knew it wasn't so simple though. Gordon dying the way he did, the King of Hell getting mixed up in it all and being interested in Enochian-none of it boded well for Gabe. For the first time since he'd said his goodbyes to Balthazar in person, Gabe knew that beyond the serial killers, the old sharks from his past were swimming in to hunt him down anew.
"Is Jody down here?" he asked the officer on duty in the glassed off booth when he arrived several floors down and a few twisty, dusty hallways later.
"Nope. Just missed her."
"Damn. Any chance you can tell me if she took anything out?" he asked, laying a thin veneer of charm down.
The officer shrugged, unimpressed but bored enough to take the edge of his curiosity. "Nope, but she did view the evidence from that one recent drug bust. Shoot out near the place where…you know."
"Yeah. Any idea what kind got confiscated?"
"Nothing I recognize," the officer replied, eyes shifting uneasily to glance over at the double doors he guarded. Beyond lay a veritable maze of shelves, cordoned off by chain-link gates and divided further into a classification system that could best be described as "new and pertinent up front; everything else goes to hell."
"Odd. Do you think they'll send it up to the lab?" Gabe asked, feigning ignorance. The prickle in his shoulders felt like fire ants now, as if just knowing that demon blood was somewhere nearby was enough to put him on guard.
The officer shrugged again, this time throwing in a scoff to mix things up. "The lab's chomping at the bit, but the FBI has dibs on it. God knows we're all better off if they take it off our hands. That one agent with the fresh face looks like he knows what he's doing."
Gabe smothered a smile. Michael was about as well-received as an agent could be in the situation, simply because he too handsome to hate.
"Michael's been down here?"
"Oh yeah. He's the one that told us to fridge the bag and shit," the officer said, picking up a clipboard and flipping through it. "Teddy got that shift, lucky bastard. I've been meaning to see if he's all that in person."
"He's quite something," Gabe said vaguely, for the first time in his life completely uninterested in discussing someone else's attractiveness. If it wasn't Sam, Gabe found that it just wasn't as interesting and far less appealing.
A side effect of dating someone, he thought, winding his way back up to the surface. Every time Gabe thought he had a handle on what dating Sam would entail, something little like this would pop up and remind him that he wasn't the same person that had driven into Lawrence a year ago.
Not that Gabe necessarily wanted to be that version of himself. In fact, Gabe didn't want to live like that at all anymore.
His phone buzzed as soon as the elevator he'd taken hit the first floor. The major downside of working in a station that housed so many important facilities underground was that his cell phone was little more than a fancy brick for half the day.
Gabe grinned when he saw the notification was from Sam. Perfect timing. All he had to do was slip out of the station and…
The grin slid off from his face like water when he read the text. At first, his brain refused to process it, and Gabe had to reread it twice before the words sunk in.
Sam-a-lam: Had bad vision, went to the tunnels. Please don't follow me. I'm sorry.
Gears crunched as the elevator came to a jarring halt. Gabe didn't even realize he'd pressed the emergency stop button until his trembling hand slipped away from the panel.
I'm sorry.
"No, no, no. No, you didn't," Gabe mumbled, nearly dropping his phone as he tried to formulate some kind of response; something that would get him an immediate reply or maybe a sheepish Sam explaining that Dean had taken his phone and pulled some cruel prank.
But this didn't seem like that, and Gabe's thumbs only produced indiscernible phrases that not even autocorrect could make heads or tails of.
"I'll just call him, and he'll answer," Gabe said, breath hitching as he scrambled to make the call. His back hit the wall, the railing biting into his back and clacking against his holster.
Please pick up please pick uppickup-
"Hey, you've reached Sam Winchester's voicemail. If you're from the Roadhouse, I'm either on my way like I said or I'm asleep and won't be on my way. You know what to do at the beep."
This wasn't the first time Gabe had heard the voicemail. The very first time, he'd been taken aback by how happy hearing the smile in Sam's voice made him, and how the jingle of a toy that could only belong to Ben fit so perfectly in the distant background.
It'd never gone straight to voicemail like this though. Sam's phone was off, and an icy wound sliced itself into Gabe's stomach, fiercely contrasting the relentless warning heat in his shoulders. Had his instinct tried to warn him of this?
He hung up, tried again. Gabe swallowed roughly when he got the same cycle, the same immortalized voice.
Sam was in the tunnels and had gone without him.
"Shit. Think, you idiot," Gabe hissed, wrangling the absurd fear trying to claw itself up from his throat down before it could overwhelm him. He'd never felt like this before, and a distant part of him knew it was because, for the first time in his life, he had someone to be afraid for.
Gabe tapped his phone against his forehead hard. Sam needed him clear-headed and on top of his game; not panicking in an elevator.
One breath, then two. Gabe's shoulders still prickled, but not as intensely. The elevator's light hummed overhead, reminding him that this moment of privacy was stolen and temporary. Gabe needed to get it together and leave the station without letting on that anything was wrong, and he had to do it fast.
Please don't follow me.
He dragged a hand over his face (were his eyes wet?) and shook out his shoulders, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Gabe's body still radiated too much heat; his stomach far too tight and cold, but his face revealed none of it.
The benefit of having a silver tongue was that the skill extended to face control. Acting was two-fold for Gabe, bone-deep and as natural as breathing.
Gabe walked off the elevator with measured steps, steering towards Jody's office. His plans didn't amount to much more than making it outside without interference, but pieces were already swirling around, trying to fit together.
Jody's blinds were drawn. If Gabe hadn't been in such a rush, he would've noticed this beyond surface level and paused to knock properly, but he wasn't, and so didn't. He gave a polite rap on the wood while opening the door, and as such, ended up walking into one of the most unexpected situations of his life.
It wasn't the most compromising situation he'd stumbled on, but it was certainly intimate. Donna sat on Jody's desk, hands fisted in Jody's shirt as Jody stood between her legs and kissed her in a way that looked practiced. Neither of them noticed him until it was too late for Gabe to back out and pretend he hadn't seen anything.
"Shit. Gabriel!" Jody hissed, pulling away from Donna with a comical mix of shock and anger on her face.
Gabe blinked, thoroughly caught off guard by the curveball he'd just taken to the temple; so off-kilter, in fact, that all of his worry for Sam momentarily fizzled out.
"Uh, what?" he asked, flabbergasted as Donna scrambled off the desk.
"Look Milton, just go home and pretend you didn't see anything," Jody warned, trying (and failing; the signs of a long make out session were far too clear) to look intimidating.
"Yeah, I was…about to do that," Gabe said, blinking again. If this was what walking in on parents being intimate was like, he was almost glad to have been a foster kid. "I'm going to go and pretend this didn't happen, but just know that I don't give a flying fuck about your, er, fraternization?"
"Out!"
"Yes ma'am!" Gabe replied, slipping out the door before things became more awkward, or worse, Jody decided to throw something at his head.
He used the opportunity to scramble out the station, certain people would assume Jody had just given him a standard ass reaming. It was only when the night air smacked him in the face that the ridiculousness of it all (Donna and Jody?) wore off and the ice returned with full force to Gabe's stomach.
"Stupid Sam. Idiot Sam," Gabe chanted under his breath, seizing at the anger at the completely moronic actions of his boyfriend to ward off the fear. When he was through with Sam, he'd never even think of pulling something like this again.
Of all the things to do without me!
Gabe pulled into the street like the hounds of hell were on his tail, burning a stretch of rubber into the road. Too many emotions to keep straight crowded his head, and in the midst of them all, Gabe could hear Enochian. It'd always flared up when he was on the edge of being overwhelmed as a kid, and apparently, the habit had resurrected itself.
His phone buzzed, jolting him from the hushed syllables running around his head. Gabe fished it out of his pocket, nails digging into the steering wheel as he shoved the persistent Enochian away. What if it was Sam?
Cassandra: Please tell me that Sam is with you. Dean is freaking out.
Gabe grimaced, stomach twisting. Not Sam, but close enough to who he needed right now.
"Sam's in the tunnels. Put Dean on the phone," he ordered, thankful Cas picked up on the first ring.
Cas did so promptly. Dean's gruff voice came seconds later, only slightly edged with worry.
"What the fuck is my baby brother up to, Milton?"
Gabe succinctly relayed the text he'd received and his intentions to go after Sam, all of his usual humor gone. Now wasn't the time for jokes, especially with Dean.
"To the tunnels we go then," Dean stated without hesitation, "We can- Cas, no, you gotta stay with Ben."
There was a scuffle on the other end. Gabe waited impatiently, forcing the Beetle around a corner at a speed that would've had Sam yelping if he'd been here.
"I'll be driving. Dean isn't in good condition, but he insists on accompanying you underground. We'll rendezvous on campus and work out details from there. There's something else you should know Gabe."
"What?"
"Sam…isn't well either," Cas said haltingly. "His vision took more out of him than I think he even noticed. I'm not entirely sure what state he left the apartment in."
Gabe's heart lodged in his throat at the implications. Could Sam be sleepwalking right now, unaware that his body was betraying him and leading him down into dangerous depths?
"How bad?" Gabe asked, fingers gripped tight around his phone. If Sam got hurt in any sort of way tonight…
"Bad," Cas replied grimly, "We should find him, and quickly."
Gabe didn't have to be told twice.
…
They must've already been out looking for Sam because the Impala beat him to campus and was long parked crookedly near the main building. Dean paced across the headlights but stopped when Gabe pulled up alongside him.
"Are you…okay?" he asked hesitantly, righteous momentum screeching to a halt as he took in the slump of Dean's body against the hood of the car and the unfocused look in his eyes.
"Don't ask stupid questions," Dean grumbled, gesturing at him with a knife he somehow made magically appear from inside his leather jacket. The threat didn't dispel the strange listlessness clinging to him, which only concerned Gabe even more.
"He's not well," Cas said tightly from the backseat, arms wrapped awkwardly around a somber Ben. "Dean, why can't we call someone?"
"We have," Dean said, gesturing sharply at Gabe. It didn't escape his notice how the Winchester shifted to make himself a windbreak for Cas and Ben.
"Hi, kiddo. How are you holding up?" Gabe asked, bracing his arm on the Impala and leaning a bit through the rolled-down window.
Ben turned his head fully toward him, shrugging one small shoulder as best he could. Between Cas and the blanket he was effectively wrapped up in, it was hard to tell.
"Hi, Mr. Gabe," he whispered, bottom lip wobbling. "Daddy is gonna get Unca Sam back, and you are too. Right?"
"That's the game plan. All you have to do is stay with Cassie," Gabe replied, reaching in and mussing Ben's hair.
Ben smiled faintly. Cas huffed, adjusting his hold on Ben, and fixing a truly fearsome look on Dean.
"If you strain any of your stitches, I will personally escort you to Lisa's house so she can punish you appropriately."
Gabe stifled a snort at Dean's wary expression and hurried nod of obedience. He was so whipped.
"I won't do anything too stupid," he said, leaning in to press a kiss onto the crown of Ben's head. "C'mon Benji, let's get you in your car seat. Cas is going to take you back to Uncle Bobby's."
"Will he be up? It's late," Ben asked, priorities arranged in a way only he could understand.
Dean cracked a smile. "Yeah, he'll be up. Uncle Bobby's going to have hot chocolate waiting and everything."
The name niggled at the back of Gabe's head, a welcome distraction from the looming endeavor. He placed it as the same Bobby Sam had taken him and the Beetle to just as Dean got Ben settled with a parting hug before facing Cas.
Oh, the tension, Gabe thought, sympathetic and amused all in one as he watched the pair face off.
"Be careful," Cas said, breaking the silence with his gravelly voice and a head duck. "I'd say use the pepper spray, but in enclosed spaces, it's not such a good idea, so-"
Gabe resisted the urge to fist pump the air when Dean cut Cas off with a bear hug that was much too clingy and strong to be platonic. If the way he bodily lifted Cas like he weighed nothing hadn't been obvious, the hand that snaked through Cas' hair certainly sealed the deal.
"I'll be back. Take care of Ben," Dean murmured, their foreheads pressed together in a moment so tender and sappy that Gabe almost felt embarrassed witnessing it.
No kiss though; a fact that Gabe couldn't help but remark on as they forged through a too quiet and too dark campus.
"So…what's up with you and Cas?" he asked as they entered the history building through a window Gabe was sure Sam had used as well.
Dean glowered at him, but the expression didn't pack as much punch due to how oddly sleepy he looked. His flashlight turned his already sallow face gaunt, bringing out just how dark the circles beneath his striking eyes were.
"It's complicated. Stay focused," he replied shortly, blinking long and hard before swinging the beam in a lurching arc ahead of their feet.
"Okay. But just know that I'm judging from my high horse, completely unashamed in doing so. At this point, it's kind of ridiculous."
For a moment, Gabe was sure he'd pushed Dean too far in his age-old habit of chattering to cover up his nerves. His shoulders automatically curled up towards his ears, waiting for a tongue lashing or the flashlight to swing back around to him, but Dean did neither.
"Hello? Did you hear me…" Gabe started, slightly miffed he hadn't gotten a reaction before he caught a glimpse of Dean's face.
Lax and eerily flat. Dean's shoulders were pulled back and held high, free from the stress that had turned his muscles tight. His legs carried him forward with purpose, but his green eyes were half-lidded and completely unseeing of the tile beneath his feet.
"Woah," Gabe breathed, taking a half step back. He had only just gotten used to Sam's sleepwalking, but something about Dean sleepwalking didn't sit well with him. Gabe didn't know him well, but he'd never say Dean was the helpless sort.
What do I do? I can't wake him. Do I just let him keep going?
Luckily, Gabe didn't have to fret for long. Dean snapped out of it within the minute, sleep washing off of him like water. His face changed from relaxed to alert in a split second, a mild frown creasing his brow.
"C'mon. We're losing time," he snapped, picking up the pace. If he'd noticed that he'd been sleepwalking, he didn't let on, and Gabe didn't tell him. He didn't think Dean would believe him, and he suspected it was only going to happen again.
He was proven right. Dean slipped into sleep once more in the history building, and then again when their feet sloshed through murky basement water. However, the second time Gabe barely noticed, too put off by the glaring Enochian runes on the far wall. A doorway gaped beneath the message, the darkness beyond impenetrable.
"The shelves must've blocked it and the cops didn't bother to inspect further," Gabe said, swinging his much smaller flashlight across the runes.
On closer inspection, Gabe discovered that they weren't Enochian. The runes moved in similar manners, but they didn't form words Gabe could read, which disconcerted him.
If it isn't Enochian, then what is it?
Dean kept moving in that straight-backed sleepwalking stride. However, as soon as he hit the threshold, Dean froze so stiffly that Gabe's heart skipped a beat. Had Dean sensed someone waiting in the tunnel?
A slew of impressively filthy phrases fell from Dean's mouth as he stepped back from the doorway, shaking his head like a wet dog.
"Fucking nasty. Ugh, I just got the heebie-jeebies," he shuddered, moving back from the door and eyeing it with an amount of trepidation Gabe didn't like seeing from Dean. If the terror of Mayhem Arena was spooked, what chance did he have?
Sam needs you. Don't be a coward now.
Gabe reluctantly edged closer, shoulders prickling. He could sense what had force Dean back; a black curtain that matched the malevolent air the runes above radiated. It reminded him of the feelings he'd gotten from a couple of the crime scenes, but different in a way that wasn't immediately explainable.
"Ick," he cringed, unsettled by the pure murderous taint to the air. It really was nasty, but Sam had gone down this way, and time was wasting. Dean was circling the basement now, observing and cataloging, but soon he'd wander back and try his hand again at breaching the threshold. Gabe suspected neither of them would be able to clear it without consequence, not unless he did something.
An idea formed in the back of Gabe's head, so simple that he feared it wouldn't work. It required using Enochian, and there were all sorts of risks with that.
But the risks were already knocking on his doorstep, and Sam needed him.
For Sam.
Gabe took a fortifying breath and picked the command he thought would work best. The words themselves didn't matter so much as intent, but it'd been years, and he wasn't sure of his focus was as razor-sharp and singular as it needed to be for something this precise.
The curtain rippled, writhing with a cursed half-life. Whatever it was, it had to go.
Gabe held the word in his mouth, tugging on the well of electricity that ran from the base of his spine up to his skull. Just a drop; just a whisper on the exhale.
"*Zacam."
Stars exploded in Gabe's head. His shoulder blades tingled as the word fell happily from his lips, rushing forward to slam into the curtain.
It shattered so effectively that Gabe could've pretended it hadn't been there at all. But it had, and with its absence, he could sense just how tightly bound it'd been to the doorway. Its job had been to cloak and protect like a twisted security guard.
Was that why the cops hadn't seen anything down here? Gabe knew that just about anything was possible when one factored Enochian and related areas into the equation, but this was starting to move out of his depth. The most he'd ever done was create the Beetle, and Balthazar had never mentioned anything dark in nature like the thing that he'd just…displaced? Exorcised?
Exorcised is a good word. Makes it sound like I know what I'm doing.
"What'd you do?" Dean demanded, peering into the dark before turning to Gabe with a suspicious frown.
"Nothing," Gabe lied, shrugging and hoping the Winchester would let it be. They didn't have time to argue semantics.
But Dean looked as if he did want to argue semantics, and very badly. Something in his face told Gabe that he'd heard him speak Enochian, and it was only then that he remembered one of the off-hand comments Sam made regarding his elder brother.
He's got crazy sharp hearing. No way you can gossip around him, much less whisper. It's annoying.
The pleasant rush of power speaking Enochian had given him (how had he gone this long without using it?) fizzled out. Dean had heard him.
"Nothing my ass. You know Enochian," Dean said, eyes widening as the ramifications set in.
Gabe chuckled nervously. "Look, I don't know what kind of ideas-"
"I know what I heard," Dean cut in, but not aggressively. "Since when have you known it? For forever?"
Gabe didn't reply, mind awhirl with how to proceed. Sam knew, but that didn't mean Dean had to know, or did it? Sam would've kept the secret from Dean-of that he had no doubt-up until Dean sniffed it out like a bloodhound or Sam let a whisper of a hint slip.
Dean took his silence as assent. With a grunt, he turned back to the door, swinging the arm that held his flashlight through the threshold.
"Cas said you might know it," Dean revealed, stepping forward with a brazen, no fucks given confidence Gabe recognized in Sam when they were in a risky situation. "Something about the way you looked at the crime scene photos or whatever. Didn't think much of it, but…"
He looked over his shoulder, gaze critical and more than a bit impatient. At that moment, Gabe could see just how clever Dean was beneath the bravado and bluster.
"Figures my brother would shack up with someone as equally weird as him," he finished, walking into the dark.
"Hey-what's that supposed to mean!" Gabe demanded, thrown off by the complete avoidance of the specifics of his Enochian usage.
The dark tunnel stank and pressed oppressively around them, but small mercies came with the water dissipating the further they traveled. Dean ignored him, muttering to himself as he seemingly arbitrarily chose which direction they went.
"Does Sam know?"
Gabe huffed, irritated by the way Dean only decided to address him after ten minutes of drudgery.
"Yes. Why?"
"Then that's all I need to know right now," Dean shrugged dismissively, still facing forward. "Knowing Sam, he must've started leaving marks when he realized how far this thing goes…yup, there it is."
He shone his flashlight to the wall, showing Gabe where an arrow had been hastily scratching into the surface. Instead of pointing back the way they'd come, it pointed forward.
Not for Sam's benefit. Ours.
"Dean?" he asked once the quiet began to stretch too long. Down here, it was harder to tell when Dean shifted from asleep to awake; the shadows threw everything off and played tricks on his eyes.
That, and Gabe was naturally inclined to chatter, especially when under duress. But the more he thought of Dean's stony silence, the more it made sense that the brothers would've had any sort of impulse like idle talking trained out of them by a man Gabe was beginning to detest the more he learned of the Winchesters.
"There's someone down here with us that isn't Sam."
Dean's voice radiated a level of calm that Gabe wished he possessed. Between the random water drips from above and the skitter of hidden rats in crevices, Gabe's nerves were starting to fray.
"Can you tell how close?" he asked, skipping past the redundant queries into how and instead trusting that he wasn't lying. If Sam trusted his brother, then dammit, Gabe would do so too, even if it was significantly less wholeheartedly.
"Still far off. But we've got another problem," Dean continued, half turning to look at him.
"What's worse than The Crucifier potentially being down here?" Gabe hissed.
"There's a potential we'll get lost, even with Sam's breadcrumbs. He's getting fainter in my head," Dean said, trailing off with a self-aware frown at the end of how insane he sounded.
Not that Gabe cared or thought he was. If anything, Dean was the least insane out of all of them, and that was truly saying something.
"Well, that's not good," he frowned in return before deciding that now was a good time as any to address the sudden onset of sleepwalking. "You…are aware that you're-?"
"Yeah," Dean said, scratching his cheek, heedless of the bruise blooming low near his jaw. It was a small reminder that he couldn't feel pain. "But it's the only way."
Resigned acceptance of the burden. Gabe didn't like the pang of sympathy he felt for Dean (he was still determined to remain irked at many of the man's flaws) or the immediate call back to Sam and all the times he'd just taken shit.
Gabe knew it was pointless to hope for things, but as they made their way deeper into the city's underbelly, he couldn't help but fervently hope that Sam would be alright. Especially when Dean's countenance began to grow frustrated.
"You're losing him, aren't you?" he asked, hating himself for putting it into words, but too used to pointing out what others hesitated to do so in his line of work to not ask.
"Shut up."
Gabe watched Dean pace back and forth between two tunnel options; one that went higher and one lower.
"Dean…"
"Something's wrong," Dean said, voice far off in a way that chilled Gabe. "Wait, Sammy-"
Then he dropped like a stone, the flashlight jerking across the walls in a way that dragged a high-strung yelp out of Gabe.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, rubbing his heart (Winchesters were going to give him a heart attack). A renewed round of prickles tortured his shoulders. "Dean? Can you hear me?"
He got down on his knees and grabbed Dean's shoulder, checking for any visible head wounds. Gabe wasn't sure who'd kill him first if Dean managed to hurt himself further down here: Sam, Cas, or Lisa.
Who am I kidding? All three of them would gang up on me!
"C'mon Dean. Don't be an asshole," Gabe muttered, eyes darting around as he pressed his fingers to Dean's neck. His breath came too weak for his liking; eyes rolling back and forth beneath his fluttering eyelids.
It happened so quickly that Gabe didn't even get a chance to speak. One second he was frantically running through concussion symptoms through his head and the next he was on his back, Dean's hand clamped on his wrist. Gabe caught a glimpse of his blazing, focused eyes before he grabbed Gabe's flashlight and turned both of them off.
"What the-?"
"Shut up," Dean hissed, hand moving from his wrist to cover his mouth.
The footsteps were far off, but in the dead silence of the tunnels, noise carried.
Dean's disembodied voice curled around his ear, his whisper so soft that if Gabe hadn't been listening, he might've missed it.
"Sam's too far for us to reach from this way. Go to the station while I handle this guy. He's in the basement. Don't argue."
Despite all his questions, Gabe didn't. Dean's voice carried a steel tone he didn't dare contradict. He only asked a single question for Sam's sake.
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine," Dean replied, a faint uptick in his tone. A restrained laugh, or disbelief at the show of concern. "Now, go."
Gabe didn't let himself think Dean would be anything but fine. Even wounded, Dean was dangerous, and it'd take an army to stop him from hurting anyone that hurt Sam.
…
The smell of blood and gunpowder alerted him before he saw anything that he was about to walk into something messy.
Leaving the tunnels and descending into the bowels of the station passed in an adrenaline haze. Gabe was only conscious of his speed and the Enochian phrases clamoring for space in his brain, whispering in tones only he could hear as he forced himself to go before it was too late. Whatever connection Dean and Sam shared in the tunnels had been severed, and Gabe dreaded thinking that the same person capable of the black curtain over the door had been the cause behind that too.
Fire alarms wailed, but Gabe registered that fact only in connection to the absence of presence in this part of the basement. He unholstered his gun, clamping trembling hands around it in a proper hold, and prayed to any deity that possibly existed that Sam wouldn't be lying on the ground around the corner.
Please don't let it be him, please-
No Sam. Gabe let himself relax once, shutting his eyes with a relieved sigh, before pulling himself together.
An officer was crumpled in a heap at the end of the hall. A pair of familiar sneakered feet stuck out of one of the few offices Gabe visited regularly this far below ground. It was the reason he'd come this way; if anyone knew any forgotten passages in the LPD's basement, it would've been Frank Devereaux.
Gabe grimaced at what his peek into Devereaux's office revealed. The darkness was only broken by the glow of a single cracked computer screen, but it was enough to see that the man was long dead. He'd been shot in the head, the force enough to knock him out of his chair. Someone, presumably the unsub, had raided the place, but for what Gabe couldn't discern.
Further down, Gabe stooped to check on the officer. His grimace deepened when he took in the sightless eyes and the still growing pool of blood. Multiple rounds to the chest, a file folder soaking up blood by the waist and gun a few feet away. No one he recognized, but they looked fresh from the academy.
"Dammit," Gabe sighed, reaching for the officer's radio. He'd call it in and then continue. Dispatch wouldn't like it, but Gabe wasn't leaving without Sam.
The methodology didn't fit with The Crucifier, but they'd already established he was devolving. It could be the partner, but there was no point theorizing right now.
Gabe went further in, the tension growing as he cleared dingier and frustratingly empty halls. Where was Sam?
Just as he feared he'd checked the whole basement, a set of doors caught Gabe's eye. He'd only ever ventured down this far once, back when he'd first arrived in Lawrence, but he knew that there used to be desks stacked high in a makeshift barrier to block it off. There were only a few desks left and through the grimy windows set in the door, he could see lights on.
"Milton? P.I Milton!"
The voice was far off, cadence momentarily unfamiliar in its raised volume. Gabe half turned in time to see Michael coming his way, gun in hand and blatantly confused.
"They told me you were down here," he said, somehow making his skidding stop look graceful. "What's all this?"
Gabe quickly explained, thankful that Michael was one of the sharper knives in the FBI drawer. He didn't tell him his suspicions that Sam might be down here; for all he knew, he could've made his escape or Dean had found him by now.
"Well, let's check it out. The unsub is no doubt long gone, but better two than one," the agent said authoritatively after radioing in their current location.
They ventured in with Michael taking the lead, guns raised and eyes sharp. It was clear the LPD hadn't used these halls in a long time. Gabe was reminded of an abandoned asylum, but with somewhat better lighting and more intact doors.
Gabe was so wrapped up in his worry for Sam and the anxiety of clearing the floor from two potential homicidal maniacs that he nearly ran into Michael's back when the man came to a standstill.
"Oh no."
"What is it?" he asked, the ice spreading in his stomach as he peeked around the agent.
Painted on the wall was a crude eye with a line down the center. Something about it resonated in Gabe's head, but he couldn't place where he'd seen it. It resembled the Dead Eyes logo, but that wasn't it.
"That's Yellow Eyes mark," Michael said faintly, lowering his gun. "That-it wasn't made public. What the hell is going on?"
Yellow Eyes.
Of course. That's where he'd seen it; a flash in the file Jody and Donna showed him, there and gone. The original horror of Lawrence that shattered Sam's life into pieces before he could even walk.
Gabe ran, ignoring Michael's startled cry. Yellow Eyes and The Crucifier were working together, and Sam was unlucky enough to have attracted the attention of both.
A whiff of incense hooked his senses, leading Gabe in the right direction. He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop, shocked into stillness by the sight at the end of the hall.
Sam's face looked out from a dozen pictures. Dripping wax candles gave the shrine (it's a fucking shrine) an eerie glow, the garish image completed with the Enochian message painted above. Gabe's eyes, now primed for Enochian as much as his tongue was, decoded the runes in horror.
He was spared once, but he won't be spared again.
"…Gabriel. Gabriel, can you hear me?"
Donna's concerned face swam before him, pulling him from the cold numbness that had spread from his stomach. Jody's appeared shortly after, grim but understanding. The combination managed to jar Gabe loose from the shock and return him to cruel reality feet first.
"I'm fine. I just have to go," he said faintly, receiving twin nods of understanding from the detective duo.
"Go check on him. We'll probably have to talk to him in the morning," Jody explained, glancing back at the shrine. They'd stepped in front of him to block his view, leaving Michael and other personnel starting to trickle down to study the scene.
"Be careful. And holster that already, for goodness sake," Donna said gently, nudging at the hand that held his gun.
Gabe nodded shallowly, putting his gun away. He caught a glimpse of Michael glancing at him, confused and partially calculating, but Gabe didn't have time to explain anything. The agent would learn along with everyone else what Sam meant to him in the coming hours.
For once, the Enochian whispers were silent as Gabe drifted upward, and not a single prickle stung his shoulders. The absence of sense after being high strung for so long exhausted him, but Gabe didn't care. He hadn't found Sam, and his failure made him sick.
His phone buzzed as soon as he hit topside. Gabe pulled it out and nearly cried on the sidewalk when he saw Sam's caller ID.
"Don't get too excited," Dean's gruff voice said before Gabe could pour out any of his emotions. "I've got him, but he's not conscious right now. We're on our way to Bobby's."
"What do you mean, not conscious? Is he hurt? What about you?" Gabe asked, too relieved to stem his rapid-fire questions.
"He's asleep and I can't wake him up. He's delirious," Dean explained. In the background, he heard the rattle of an old engine. "Other than that, not a scratch. Took a couple of hits, but nothing serious. Adam, watch the damn curbs!"
"Adam? Oh God, don't tell me you got those kids involved," Gabe groaned, slamming his forehead on the Beetle before opening his door.
"I didn't mean to, jeez. I knew Hannah stayed in the dorms-shit Kevin, don't poke at it, I'll be fine. You're going to turn green if you keep looking at it."
"He got himself shot!" Kevin exclaimed, somehow taking the phone from Dean. "Jesus, your arm looks gnarly. Hey-!"
Gabe heard Dean hiss something that sounded a lot like snitch through the phone fumbling. A snatch of Adam's voice, then Kevin again, before Dean regained control.
"We'll reconvene at Bobby's and get a game plan laid out, ok? Sam's damn phone is almost out of juice, so I'll only get the address out once."
Dean hung up after he got the address out. Gabe started the Beetle, aiming it towards the outskirts of town as he made another call.
"Gabriel?"
"Your boy toy got shot in the arm while rescuing Sam, and Sam is in some weird unconscious state. This was after we split up, so don't chew me out," Gabe said preemptively when Cas inhaled sharply. "We're either going to need Lisa or Crowley."
The pause over the line was short, but vast in-depth.
"I'll explain things to Lisa. Will you be ok?"
Gabe pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, propelling the Beetle towards the nearest highway exit. All of Sam's faces, from the gap-toothed kid and awkward high schooler to the adult one he knew, flitted through his mind like broken film strips.
"I will be as soon as I get there."
And he would be. The night had ended in catastrophe, but Gabe had confirmation that Sam was alive. Not okay, but alive, and that would be enough for the drive.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
*zacam means move. I used "A Passable Enochian Translator" and will continue using it for short Enochian phrases from here on out, but longer paragraphs will get typical italics treatment.
This chapter was rough to write, especially the second half! Writing Gabe stressed out made me stressed out. Next chapter will also be from his POV and have a lot of Enochian-based developments, so hang in there on that. Sam's gonna be ok, just…not ok right away!
As for trilogy news, the plan is to wrap Reactivity up before the halfway point of this year and then take a break to outline and work out how to wrap the series up in the last installment. Don't have anything in mind besides bare bones and a very clear final ending, but by the end of Reactivity I'll have a title and stuff worked out.