Chapter Five
I was easier to see the bruises in the light, under the hood Gabriel sell had pulled up over his hair. One cheekbone was bruised black, the skin so dark it looked like paint. He had a marbled bruise over the opposite eye, plummy and painful even to see. His chin was grazed, blood crusted and rusty on his skin. What Sam could see of his hands, half-buried in the fabric of Sam's hoody still, were almost as purple as they were flesh, and Sam had to blink wide and slow to stop the prickle in his eyes.
"Hey." he greeted in a hush, taking one careful step towards Gabriel.
The boy jerked weakly, blinking drowsily as his head turned towards the sound of Sam's voice. He looked at Sam for a long, slow moment before one half of his mouth softened and relaxed almost into a tilted smile.
"Hiya, Sammy." he replied, in the same raspy sound of before, "Zoned out for a sec."
Sam swallowed his response and stepped closer until he could sit on the corner of the tub, close enough to check Gabriel over. Gabriel gave him a dulled look, something that might have been watered-down amusement.
"Come to play nurse?" he tired, but Sam couldn't even manage a fake smile.
"Oh, Gabe." he answered in a breath, letting his eyes roam the bruises on Gabriel's face from his new angle, trying not to wince even though Gabriel would know it was bad.
In response, Gabriel only looked down at his hand, turning them over and running his fingers over the rougher weave of the elastic cuffs.
"I always liked this one." he murmured blankly, like he was commenting on the music in an elevator, "Guess I found a way to borrow it after all, huh?"
Sam fought down the want to correct him, to make it clear how pissed he was at whoever had done this. Because flippancy was how Gabriel would get through this. Flippancy and over-stated dark humour and despondency.
Instead Sam looked at the sleeves. The hoody was one of his favourites, a faded navy remnant of some summer road trip or other. Ever since Dean had passed his driver's test he'd taken to packing Sam and Gabriel and Castiel into a car with four duffel bags, a handful of classic rock tapes and a faded book of roadmaps. He claimed it was to try and give them a taste of what was out there, and he made out it was this great burden placed upon him as an older brother, but they all knew that was bullshit.
Dean loved to drive, loved the freeing nature of the open road, and he loved them too, even though he'd deny it till his last breath. The car was his pride and joy, minted and shiny as a new coin, a '67 Chevy Impala in glossy, beetle black. It had been their dad's car, and he'd been as proud of it as Dean was. The night he'd gotten loaded and split on them he'd spent a half-hour looking for the keys, which had been living in Dean's jacket pocket for over a year because John would disappear for days or weeks on end and Dean liked to drive Sam to school.
After he'd gone and Sam had mentioned it, Dean had said no way was John taking the car. That was their car, his and Sam's. It had their legos in the air vents and their names carved in the wood slat under the loose edge on the boot-ledge. It still had a toy soldier Sam had crammed into the cigarette tray on one of the backseat doorhandles. Dean had felt something was off with John's usual drunken rant, and he'd somehow been sure John was leaving for good that time, for all he didn't take anything more than the duffel bag he usually did.
The car was Dean's and Sam's, and for a while every summer it became Gabriel's and Castiel's too. Their home away from home. Sam and Castiel took turns riding shotgun, because Dean claimed he didn't like the distraction of having Gabriel up front on a sugar-rush incase he did something idiotic like dance around or start flicking Dean's ears. Gabriel couldn't really argue it, considering that was standard in-car behaviour for him.
They'd drive anywhere and everywhere, routes and destinations chosen by chance; blind fingers prodding a spot on the map, the flip of a coin deciding which junction they took, which town they passed through. what tourist attraction they stopped at. They slept in admittedly crappy motels and lived on diner food and gas station coffee and they went anywhere they pleased. For kids stuck in a city on the small side who felt like they were trapped there with the same morons they'd gone all the way through school with, a week or two or three riding around like modern day pirates was pretty sweet.
The hoody had been bought on one of those journeys, Sam was sure. Gabriel had never once packed enough clothing for a trip, and had a habit of spilling slushy or coffee down himself when he was bounding down a main-street like an over-eager puppy. When that happened, he'd then forget to wash it at a laundrettes, or at the in-motel facilities, and he'd solve his problem by simply stealing from Sam.
So Sam, in turn, had gotten into the habit of packing extra. One time he didn't pack extra enough, and voila. The hoody came into their lives.
He watched Gabriel, and he almost managed a smile at the memories.
"Summer, right?"
Gabriel looked up, then. His eyes were a fraction brighter.
"Yeah. When we went paintballing with those bikers, remember?"
Sam hummed, almost a chuckle. That day's activities had been an adventure, to say the least. They'd stopped at motel in the evening, walked down the street to the nearest diner. It had been raining, and Gabriel had been eating a bumper bag of gummy worms for the last thirty miles. He was talking a hundred miles an hour at Sam's side, bouncing on the balls of his feet as his arms waved like crazy. Dean had been grumbling swearwords under his breath since they'd left the motel and Sam and Castiel were exhausted playing middle-men.
When they'd opened the diner door, Gabriel had pivoted on his heel to maintain a view of Sam while he continued to babble, and one of his trainers had skidded, the combination of rainwater and linoleum not the most stable flooring. One arm had knocked into a guy getting up at the table by the door, and the following argument had been loud and mostly handled by Dean, with Cas standing close beside him, Sam behind with a hand tight on Gabriel's collar lest his best friend do something stupid.
In the end, they'd somehow managed to be challenged to a paintball fight the next day in a field nearby. The battle was muddy and painful and exhilarating, marking the high-point of that year's trip. Of course a whole day in a post-rain field exchanging paintball rounds with a group of bikers left them each down an outfit. Back at the motel, Gabriel had cleaned up first and stolen Sam's last clean shirt and hoody while Sam was showering.
"Yeah. You were all over the place in that mud."
"Yeah." Gabriel sighed back, a touch of nostalgia in his tone as he dropped his gaze again.
Sam waited in the quiet, waited for a signal, a cue on how to proceed. It came in the form of Gabriel sighing.
"Thanks." he said, softly, "For giving me it, I mean."
He sounded wary, lost and resigned and upset. Sam gripped the enamel side of the bathtub and gave his head a slow shake.
"You don't have to." Sam answered instantly, gentleness bleeding into the words, "We don't have to talk about it right now."
Gabriel opened his mouth but no sound came out, and he closed it again with an audible swallow. He nodded, closing his eyes. Sam nodded too, reaching out to put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, just to squeeze in support. But at the touch Gabriel seemed to shrink, falling forwards till his forehead thunked against Sam's chest. Sam dropped his chin onto the top of the hood and focused on breathing slow and even to keep Gabriel relaxed.
"I can run a bath, if you want." he murmured, staring at a discoloured spot high on the wall, "Or put the shower on?"
Gabriel's face nodded against his chest.
"Yeah." he said, and Sam managed a dry chuckle that time.
"Which one?"
"Bath." Gabriel replied, before sniffling, "Easier to drown myself."
Sam sighed.
"Don't be dramatic," he whispered, tipping his head down to bump it against Gabriel's temple, "or I'll have to sit outside the door."
In return, Gabriel gave him a pale, amused laugh.
"Afraid I don't have the energy for a good show tonight, Samoose."
Sam smiled, flicking the back of his friend's neck playfully.
"Shut up." he answered warmly, feeling marginally better at the sound and feel of Gabriel's laugh against his neck.
They stayed like that for a few moments, Sam's hands brushing thoughtless, soothing circles on Gabriel's back. It was Gabriel who broke the quiet, tipping his head up but not drawing away, head at an awkward angle as he tried to look at Sam.
"Better get it over with now, before I fall asleep and really drown."
Sam rolled his eyes and bit down the faint fear that Gabriel was serious. He wasn't. He wouldn't be, not like that if he was really… Sam shook the thought away. Gabriel would never feel like that, not really, truly, seriously. And if he did, he'd never bring it up like that, not with Sam. He'd ask for help. Sam knew he would. He had to know he would. He was hurting, and he'd been humiliated by assholes that Sam would make sure paid dearly for it, but he'd get through it. They'd get through it. They always did.
"Okay. How are- Are you- I mean…" Sam cringed at his own fearfulness.
"Am I what?" Gabriel asked, when Sam didn't continue.
"Do you want me to check you over?" he asked, awkward, "Or are you- I mean- Nothing's broken, right?"
Gabriel was quiet for a minute and Sam closed his eyes and cursed himself for his own stupidity. But then Gabriel did draw back, returning to the same position as before, hunched on the lid of the toilet. But he dropped back the hood and looked at Sam with a grim, wry smile.
"Nothing broken." he said, "Least as far as I can tell. A lot of it's gonna sting in the mornin' though."
Sam winced as he looked at him, knowing there wasn't anything he could answer with that would make it better, knowing Gabriel knew he knew that. Gabriel's smile dropped, but the wall of disinterest he was trying to hold up dropped too. He was vulnerable and honest as he looked at Sam again.
"It sucks, kiddo, but I'll cope. Got a couple cuts, but most of it's the old black-and-blues."
Sam nodded, and swallowed the question. His purpose right then was to get Gabriel cleaned up and into other clothes and feeling a bit better. Questions could wait. Would wait. They'd wait in Sam's head and the tip of his tongue until Gabriel was ready to give him the answers, and only then would they meet the air.
Instead, Sam got up and walked down to the other end of the bathtub, turning the hot tap on to warm and to rinse the tub before he pushed the plug in. He busied his hands, giving himself a moment to breath and try to lessen the impact of those bruises behind his eyelids, giving Gabriel a moment too. When he'd started the bath he turned back, drying his hands as he looked at his friend.
Gabriel was looking speculatively down at the cuffs again, running the fingers of one hand over the material like he was playing piano. Sam's heart squeezed at how small his friend looked, how out of his depth it made him feel.
"I can, uhm, go." he said, articulately, feeling his neck heat when Gabriel looked up again, "I'll get you some clothes, let you-" he waved his hands awkwardly, "wash."
He could feel his own lame expression, knew how stupid he must look. He fully expected some familiar Gabriel snark, a raised eyebrow, the wicked smirk, a salacious joke. What he got instead was a surprisingly evident display of fear. Gabriel's eyes darkened and he opened his mouth, fingers curling reflexively as though to hold onto something.
"I-" was all Gabriel said, a frown flickering onto his face before he rolled his shoulders and looked a little out of place.
Sam gave him a chagrined smile.
"I can sit outside, you know. If you actually want me to."
Gabriel looked like he was going to rebuff that instantly. They were close, but they weren't that close. He wasn't a kid in danger of slipping and being sucked down the plughole. But there was something else in his eyes too, something foreign and… broken, and Sam wished it would go away.
"I don't need a suicide watch, you know." he answered in an uncomfortably neutral tone, "But I guess if you can't stay away I don't mind having a chat through the door."
"You got it." Sam answered, feeling an unexpected relief well in his gut, "I'll nip and get you something to wear, okay?"
Gabriel was looking studiously down at his s;eves again and only gave a vague nod in response, but Sam understood. Asking for help was hard, especially asking it of another guy. Asking it of his best friend was something different too. They were closer to each other than anyone except their maybe their brothers, and that meant there was very little Gabriel could really hide from Sam and keep for himself. As nice as such a bond sounded in theory, in reality it left you open and vulnerable. Weak.
And Gabriel Novak was not weak. Being brought low by some dick was killing him, and Sam knew it even if he couldn't really see it.
When he brought clothes for Gabriel it was a soft set of worn pyjamas, and Gabriel didn't question it. He stayed often enough. Castiel would understand, and Michael wouldn't really bother either way. Sam knew Gabriel would never tell Michael, if he could get away with it. Michael was… Well, he was distant and strict at the best of times, but ferociously protective. Even living away from home now, he would be back in a flash if he thought his brothers needed him.
If they needed an older brother, it was best to tell Luke. He lived the closest, and even though he was the family black sheep and a bit of loose canon, he'd be there if Cas and Gabriel needed him. But all of that would be Gabriel's call, Sam knew, as he sat with his back against the closed door and they exchanged small talk about ideas for their Physics project.