A/N: I'm sorry, I haven't had the time to proof read this. Terribly sorry. If you find any glaring errors, please feel free to message me and tell me the mistake and I'll endeavour to correct it. Thank you. Enjoy. – Oh, and Happy New Year.


Chapter 18

Gabriel sighed as another car sped past at just below the limit. He reached for the bag of chips in the passenger seat. He hated being stuck on the side of the round waiting for someone to go racing past like Road Runner. He'd already tried calling Sam to ease the boredom but there was no answer, which meant he was working.

Ripping open the pocket Gabriel tricked in and sat staring out at the empty road. Tapping his foot against the break peddle, he sighed again. He should have brought his computer with him, then at least he'd have something to do, or that book Sammy had brought him for Christmas. Anything would be more entertaining than staring at nothing but tarmac and trees.

He leant forward to turn on the radio when his cell began to ring on the seat next to him. He smiled at the sight of Sam's name. "Sammy-kins." there was a long silence and Gabriel felt his heart leap into his throat and begin to race. He sat up straighter. "Sam, what's happened?" he demanded harshly, panic slowly taking over.

"Nothing." Sam replied, though his tone said otherwise.

"Sam?"

"Did you know?"

"Know what?" Gabriel frowned, concerned and fearful.

There was another long pause before Sam spoke quietly. "The men of letters."

Gabriel stared straight ahead, swallowing hard. "What about them?"

"Our grandfather. He was one."

Gabriel took a breath. "Yes. - How did you find out?"

"Seems angels aren't the only ones that can time travel." Sam replied sharply. "He feel out of our closet."

Gabriel pressed his fingers into his eyes. "So that's what happened to him." he mumbled, leaning back in his seat and letting his head fall against the rest.

"What's that meant to me?" Sam demanded and Gabriel could just imagine the bitch-face.

"It means he vanished after the massacre. He wasn't among the dead."

Sam was silent again. "How do you know about them?"

Gabriel smiled sadly. "Come on Sam, your boys and your great destiny, of course we knew about Henry, and his father, grandfather, all the way back to..."

"Right. Of course." Sam cut him off angrily. "And it didn't occur to you to tell me?"

"It never came up." Gabriel defended, warily. "If I'd know he was just going to pop up I'd have said something. Everyone just assumed Abaddon had found him and..." Gabriel's eyes snapped open and he leant forward, staring panicked out at the empty road. "Abaddon. Sam, you've got to be careful, if he's there she can't..."

"Too late." Sam interrupted quietly.

"Sam?" he pressed worriedly.

"Don't worry, she's been dealt with. She's in a hundred little piece buried under concrete."

"You killed a night of hell?" Gabriel asked, torn between disbelief and pride.

"Killed? Not exactly. But she won't be hurting anyone again.

Gabriel inhaled deeply and sank back into the driver's seat. "And Henry?"

"Dead." Sam murmured regretfully.

"I'm sorry."

There was another drawn out silence, Gabriel watching the road uncertain what to say. Sam's tone made it clear that he wasn't happy, that he was pretty pissed that Gabriel hadn't revealed what he'd known about his family tree. That ever present fear was creeping its way up his spine, trying to take him over again. Would this be the excuse Sam was waiting for? Would it drive them apart? He tried to crush the treacherous whispers, and was doing a decent enough job at it. After all, Sam had come back to him before.

"We're heading to Lebanon." Sam finally announced, tone somewhat distant.

Gabriel froze, the little voice laughing and taunting in the back of his mind. "Oh."

"We need to check their place out." Sam clarified, not bothering to go into more detail.

Gabriel swallowed thickly, unable to speak. He just listened to Sam steady breathing down the line. He'd been stupid to think his happiness was going to last. Dean was right, he wasn't important to Sam, not like she'd been. He'd been a complete fool to even think it. And now, which his family legacy calling, of course Sam wouldn't stay. Sam was more Winchester than Campbell, knowledge was his weapon and the Men of Letters had a vast library of knowledge at their fingertips.

Of course, knowing Sam, he wouldn't leave straight away, no he'd pull away bit by bit as the men of letters took him into their fold. It didn't matter that they were all dead and buried , they'd left him with their legacy and that would be all Sam would need. "Fine." he sighed, too tired and resigned to everything to say anything else. "Bye Sam."

He hung up before the hunter could say anything and tossed the cell aside, then hung his head to rest on the steering wheel, cushioned on the back of his hands. His knuckles where while against the black plastic. The phone began to ring insistently on the seat but he ignored it. It had been a mistake letting Sam back into his life and now he was paying for it.

Not for the first time he wished he'd never found a way out of Purgatory. Life, or should he say death, had been simple there. Sure he spent all his time running, hiding but at least it didn't hurt so much. At least he didn't have any hopes to be dashed over and over again.

_What Doesn't Kill You_

"What's wrong?" Dean asked curiously as Sam lowered his phone and hit the screen, again. "Sammy?"

Sam didn't say anything, his brows knitted tightly together. He re-dialled and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Sammy!" Dean snapped, drawing his brother's attention for only a split second.

"He hung up on me." Sam said, his features pinched with concern.

Dean relaxed beside him with a sigh. "Isn't that what people usually do at the end of a conversation? And considering the way you were talking to him, not that I'm sure he deserves it."

"I wasn't talking to him like anything." Sam argued, eyes focused on the phone. "And it wasn't the end of the conversation. - Now he's not answering."

Dean snorted. "If I spoke to Cas like that, he'd..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "He's probably just...working or whatever." Dean dismissed.

Sam turned to stare at his brother. "I think you should drop me off at the next town." Sam said, rolling his cell in his palm thoughtfully.

Dean's head snapped around to stare at him, his jaw tight. "What?"

"You heard me, Dean. I should..."

"So he throws a bitch-fit and you go running? Are you kidding me?" Dean snapped furiously, his fingers tight around the wheel.

Sam glared at his brother. "He's not throwing a bitch-fit, something could have happened."

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed, ignoring his brother. His thought fleeing back to Gabriel. He'd recognized the tone, it was that tired, resigned one he'd used too many times for Sam's liking. IT said that even after all these months, he was still expecting him to walk away, and something told him that it was rooting in Gabriel's argument with Dean.

"What about this place? You wanted to check it out." Dean reminded him harshly.

"It's not going anywhere Dean." Sam argued.

"I knew that dick-less son of a bitch was going to be a problem. - That's why I said you had to be in or out." Dean shook his head.

"No, you said that so I'd leave him because you have a problem with me being with a guy." Sam argued angrily. "And believe me, he's anything but dick-less." he spat, knowing it would make his brother uncomfortable, and it worked, going by the way his brother's face reddened and grew tight.

The impala jerked into the side of the road and screeched to a halt. Sam looked over at Dean, his brother's angrily disgust in every inch of his features. After a few moments Dean shoved open the door, climbing out of the car and marching to the front. Sam watched intrigued as he paced back and forth, every muscle in Dean's body tense.

Sam remained within the car only for a few minutes before following after his brother. He stood leaning on the hood of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest, eyes tracking Dean every movement.

Suddenly Dean Turned to him, his eyes narrow. "You can't keep running off when we're working just because he's having a hissing fit."

Sam glowered back at him. "Firstly, like I said, he's not having a 'hissing fit', and even if he were, it would be your fault. Whatever you said to him had left him convinced I'm going to split any minute. You wanna tell me what you said to him?"

Dean's jaw tightened, his arms folded defensively. "Nothing that wasn't true."

"Oh really? So, what was it? - Because it sure as hell wasn't that I'm happy?"

The pair stared at each other, challenging and cold. Dean flipped his hand dismissively and marched towards the driver's seat, but Sam stopped him, grabbing his arm tightly.

"We're not finished Dean." He said furiously. "Secondly, I didn't complain when you ran off during a case because Ben called."

Dean froze, not looking at his brother. His gaze narrowing off into the distance. "That was different." he growled, fighting to stay calm.

"Was it? I didn't complain or give you a hard time when you tried to have a normal life."

Dean spun, fixing Sam with a death glare. "You didn't have a soul, you didn't give a shit what I did or didn't do. - Hell, if it weren't for you, me and Lisa would still be together!"

"Who are you kidding Dean! It was never going to work." Sam shook his head. "We both know that."

"You wanted me to go be with her!" Dean pointed out.

"Your right, I did. Because I wanted you to be happy and I was blind to what was right in front of me. But you finished with her, you walked away. - Or should I say she kick you to the curb. That had nothing to do with me."

Dean's face tightened dangerously. "Don't!" he warned, hand trembling at his side.

"Oh so you can't bitch at my boyfriend but god-forbid I should say anything against Lisa." Sam shook his head. "I let you have your family, Dean. I didn't cause you any problems, that it didn't work is not on me. So let me have mine!"

Dean fumed in from of him, his face turning a dark shade of red. Sam sighed, this fight was never going to be over. Dean was never going to accept them. Maybe they were better off apart. He didn't want to admit that but maybe they'd finally reached the end of the road. Shaking his head Sam headed for the back of the car, yanking open the door and retrieving his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder and slamming the door with a loud thud of metal on metal. He turned to see Dean watching him, his features looking drown with pain, sadness and more than a hint of stubborn pride.

"Have a nice life Dean." He murmured, smiling regretfully at his brother before turning away, a heavy weight on his chest. He'd never imagined it ending like this.

He was a few feet away when he heard the rumble of the Impala's engine starting and the scream of its tyres. He didn't turn to watch his brother leave, somehow it was easier that way.

He was half a mile down the almost empty road when a car pulled slowly up beside him. His heart tightening in his chest as the gleam of familiar black metal. He didn't look around, just kept on walking. His fingers tighten around the strap of his bag. The silence only broken by the soft rumble of the engine.

Sam jumped slightly at the sound of Dean's sudden voice, loud over the metallic purr. "Look, you're right, I have a problem with you being with him. I can't help that. I don't like it. I don't like him."

Sam inhaled slowly thought his nose, straightening his spine further as he walked. He knuckles white against the green canvas strap.

"But…locking those sons of bitches up in the furnace once and for all, it's too important and the only way we're going to make it happen is by hanging together. – So…if you…I can deal with it."

Sam stopped abruptly. "Deal with it?" he said harshly, staring at Dean thought the open window.

"Look I'm not going to give you my blessing. I can't do that." He shook his head. "Not…I can't…"

Sam groaned to himself and turned to start walking.

"Hey, I'm trying." He yelled, leaning out the window.

Sam stopped again. "This." He said sharply. "Is not trying Dean, this is you playing along, hoping I'll get bored or came to my senses!"

"So?"

"So?" Sam yelled furiously, spinning around to glowering. "That's not going to happen Dean!"`

"How can you be so sure? Huh? It's not like you…"

"Because I lov…."

Sam was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing, he reached for it quickly, praying it was Gabriel and being crushed with disappointment. When he saw the name he inhaled a lungful of winter air. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Kevin, this isn't really… What?" he looked at Dean and nodded. "Okay, we can…. – Yeah, soon we're not far." He hung up and shook his head.

"What is it?" Dean asked from inside the car, his eyes fixed on Sam's torn troubled face.

"Kevin he's something."

"Great." Dean said happily.

Sam looked from his brother to the phone, to the road ahead of him.

"Are you coming?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, he nodded before reluctant climbing into the car. Dean was right about one thing, closing hell had to come before all there problems.

_What Doesn't Kill You_

The weather seemed to be challenging his mood, almost from the instant he'd hung up from Sam, it had been pouring down. A storm obviously was on its way. He rushed from the barn, his uniform soaking though quickly. He burst through the door and almost tripped over Riot, who was stood in front of him, growling at the dark beyond him. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. "What's wrong with you?" he asked with a laugh, his fingers dragging though his damp hair.

He looked up to see Claire rushing towards him, that's when he realized they weren't alone. On the couch sat Rita, pale and trembling. "Rita?"

"She won't talk, she's been waiting for you." Claire said in her stead, looking up at him with concern.

A flash of lightening and a loud crash of thunder caused them all to jump Gabriel's heart flying into his throat when Rita screamed. He rushed over to her, perching on the edge of the coffee table, taking the warmer's frozen trembling hands. "Rita? Reet, what's wrong?"

She looked into his eyes, her even overshadowed with a fear that instantly shot through Gabriel. Her skin so pale he could easily believe she was a zombie.

"What happened?"

She shook her head at him, her mouth open but silent.

"Rita, talk to me." He pleaded. "Do you want me to call Annabella?"

The woman's head rattled violently, tears beginning to swell in her eyes. "N-no." she whispered brokenly.

"Then take to me. I can't help you if you do tell me what's happened."

Silence stretched between them and Gabriel sighed with frustration, looking over to Claire who stared back at him with worry written all over her face. She shrugged sadly at him. Riot's loud bark torn though the silence, followed swiftly by another and another. A serious of equally land and dangerous growls cutting between them. Gabriel turned to stare at Rita, who leapt off the couch, stumbling away from the window as another flash of lightening lit up the rom. Gabriel got to his feet, his heart racing and his stomach tight as he looked between Riot and his friend, a bad feeling settling in his chest. Taking a breath he glanced over at Claire. "How long has she been here?"

Claire shrugged. "About 10 minutes."

"Claire, grab the rock salt from the pantry, block the windows and doors." He ordered breathlessly, already rushing for the hall closet to grab the shot gun.

"What is it?" Claire called over her shoulder, vanishing into the kitchen.

With the shot gun in his hand Gabriel marched back to Rita, meeting the woman's terrified eyes. "Rita, what is it? – Tell me!" he demanded loudly.

Rita's lip began to tremble, tears streaming down her face. Gabriel was opening his much to demand answers again when a loud window rattling howl filled to room and an ice cold chill blanketed him, he turned wide eyes towards the window. His heart pounding painfully against his rib.

His head snapped around to stare shocked at Rita. "Hellhound? Rita, Hellhounds?"

The woman collapsed to her knees, her face buried in her hand.

Gabriel swallowed hard, marching over to the window. "Claire! Hurry up." He glared out pointlessly at the dark, a sheet of rain blocking his view. Not that he'd be able to see the thing anyway.

"The back doors are done." Claire said running back in, the bag gripped tight in her hands.

Gabriel rushed over, taking the bag from her. "Claire, go upstairs, in the bottom drawer of my dresser you'll find an angel blade." She ran off and Gabriel sighed wearily. He dragged a hand through his hair and watched the woman closely, moving back to her side slowly, the shot gun tight in her hand.

Claire was back a moment later, the light gleaming off the silver in her hand. A heavy weight settled in his stomach at the sight of her. He could tell she was scared and he wished he could do something to erase that fear. A spark of anger shot through him, furious that Rita would bring this to his door. Of course that feeling was swiftly eclipsed by guilt.

He looked out the window once more, frustrated that he couldn't see anything. When he was an archangel, he could see Hellhounds everywhere. He could stop them with a click of his fingers. Now he was human and the cold sweat of fear rolled down his spine with the knowledge that they could all very well die tonight. That Sam would come home, if he came home, to find their mutilated bodies. Tears burned at his eyes and he swallowed the large ball of anger, regret and sorrow that was lodged in his throat.

He turned to look at Claire, clearing his throat. "You n-need to go upstairs." He ordered brokenly. "Lock yourself in the bathroom, rock salt the door and don't come out, no matter what."

"Dad, no."

"Go!" Gabriel growled. "And take Riot with you, and this." He threw the shot gun at her.

Claire caught it with practised ease, even as she shook her head and tears filled her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to argue he could tell, but thankfully she didn't. Instead she grabbed Riot's collar and reluctantly dragged the dog towards the stairs.