A/N: First of all, sorry for the long wait. Writing smut while at my grandparents' house feels a little wrong. But hey, I hope this chapter's worth it. Also, the updates might turn to once a week from now on (or less) because I have school stuff to worry about and shizz. Secondly, tinypinkmouse has made a podfic of this story! It's on her journal on LJ. As of yet, it's only the first few parts, but still, epic love to her.

"Don't worry, they're not going to hurt you."

"I dunno, Sam, you talk about those two like they're murdering robots."

Sam had to stifle a laugh, before looking down at Gabriel and cupping his face in his hands. "I'll protect you." He kissed Gabriel's smile gently.

He unlocked the door to his motel room, peeking around to see who was there before taking Gabriel by the wrist and pulling him inside. Dean was sitting on his bed, cleaning his gun.

"Dean…I have someone for you to meet. Where's Dad?"

"Out. Who?" Dean replied, his brow furrowed. If Sam had brought another stray dog home he'd have to give him a firm 'No' this time.

Gabriel walked in when Sam opened the door fully, all confidence. "Dean?" He glanced over him once, hands shoved into his pockets. He'd only seen him once before, for a few minutes, and they hadn't really been introduced. "I remembered you as being taller."

Dean glared at Sam. "Who's this little shit?"

Sam had to smile. This was Gabriel's defense mechanism: he'd be all bravado and swagger and a little ball of attitude if he felt the need to.

"'Little shit'," he used air quotes, "is Gabriel. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand for Dean to shake, and Dean was probably wise to check his hand for a joy buzzer first. If Gabriel didn't like someone he let them know.

"Oh yeah, he talks about you all the time. You and Sammy are real close, aren't ya?" Dean winked at Sam, who glared back.

"Real close," Gabriel muttered, but Dean didn't hear him because at that very moment, John came home.

He'd just been to the morgue, so naturally was wearing a dark blue suit and tie. He passed a hand over his face in exhaustion as he came in, and though he just wanted to take a shower and settle down, judging by the amount of people in the room, he correctly guessed he wouldn't be so lucky.

"Evenin' boys. Who's your friend?"

"Dad," Sam said, coming up behind Gabriel and placing hands on his shoulders. He hoped to God he would have a semblance of respect for his father. "This is Gabriel."

"Oh yeah," John said, smiling a little. "The psychic kid."

"Pain-in-the-ass psychic kid," muttered Dean, settling back down to fiddle with his gun some more.

Gabriel spun around, a finger held out. "Watch it, chuckles."

"I would watch it if I were you, Dean," Sam warned, giving him that look that meant 'Listen.'

"What's that supposed to me-?"

"Dean, be quiet for a minute. Gabriel, would you like a drink?" John asked, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it off the back of a chair. "All we have is beer." He laughed. "I'm not sure your mom would be too happy with me, on second thought. We have water?" he offered feebly.

"That's ok, thanks, Mr. Www…" Sam elbowed him not-so-subtly in the ribs. "Mr. Wesson."

Eventually, once Dean had stopped being moody, once John had stopped smiling falsely, trying to be a good host, and once Gabriel had stopped glaring at Dean, they set up a pattern of sigils and candles on the cheap-ass-excuse-for-a-dining table.

They were going to have a séance of sorts – John suggested it – to try and 'concentrate' Gabriel's 'power'. Gabriel had just found it hard not to laugh, but apparently the Winchesters were taking this very seriously.

Sam made no actions regarding their relationship, except for taking every opportunity possible to touch him: he'd rest a hand gently on the small of his back every so often, and he'd made sure he sat next to him at the table, just for an excuse to brush his knee against his and of course, to hold his hand.

He squeezed it gently, giving Gabriel a reassuring smile.

John told them all to close their eyes, and concentrate all their energy on inspiring a vision from Gabriel. Dean grumbled.

"God damnit, I'm hungry."

"Can it, Dean."

"Yeah you can talk, Sam, you ate the last donut!"

"Boys!" John scolded, at the same time Sam said: "Did not!"

"Oh, no, of course not," Dean whispered in reply, sneering. "'Cause you're the good son."

After a second of silence, that intense burning pain began behind Gabriel's eyes again, and he narrowly avoided knocking over several candles as his hands flew to his head, and he reflexively crouched over the table in pain.

"Yes, because I am a good son."

A room, battered, dreary, unlived in, and far too small for Gabriel's liking. The architecture was not itself particularly small just…the room was packed full of ego, or personality, or power.

"Okay, well, trust me, pal. Take it from someone who knows — that is a dead-end street."

It's Dean again. What is it with this man always appearing in his visions? There's someone else, too, both familiar and alien at the same time – like a vague childhood memory of someone you thought you knew.

He speaks, his voice smooth and regal, almost rich like the sound of a trumpet and just as commanding.

"And you think you know better than my Father?"

And Gabriel knows that was 'Father' with a capital 'F', because this man doesn't seem earthly, human even. In fact, he's practically glowing, at least to Gabriel's eyes.

That's when Gabriel realizes he knows the black-haired man in front of him – back in real life he's sitting right there on his left. He's the same, it's him maybe twenty years earlier, but he's so different. His voice less gruff, his eyes less tired.

Then it all fades, the voice of this man who may be Sam's father fading into a muffled silence.

"He's coming round!" someone shouted as a hand grasped his shoulder. "Gabe, are you okay?"

Sam's touch on his shoulder was comforting at the same time as being firm and demanding.

He groaned. His head felt like someone had given it a once-over with a steamroller, and he wanted more than anything to just collapse on the table and fall the fuck asleep. The voices, however, would not be denied.

"Ugh," Gabriel said, finally, lifting his head and immediately regretting doing so.

"What did you see, son?" That was John's voice, so gruff and so unlike the voice of his younger self.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "It was you," was all he said, but he could practically feel the boys' eyes snap to their father.

"Dad?" Sam asked, skeptical. "You sure?"

"Well, it was you," he said, pointing a finger towards where John's voice had come from, though his eyes were still closed. "But it wasn't you, if you get what I'm saying."

He supposed John did, because when Gabriel cracked his eyes open to look at him, he was nodding.

"Well, if it wasn't him, who was it?"

Gabriel was pensive for a moment, brow furrowing in concentration. "Ummm…it was…my brother."

There was silence then, and all three Winchesters just gawked at him.

Sam touched him gently on the shoulder, saying: "But Gabe, you don't have a brother."

He coughed, looking down. He didn't think he had one either. "I did have a brother. A long time ago."

Sam looked at him sadly.

"I lost him." It didn't feel like a loss though – it's not as though he had any memories of this maybe-brother who looked like Sam's dad. He'd just felt a strong fraternal instinct to the guy in the vision, but it's not like he felt the same thing for John.

He stroked small circles on Gabriel's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Gabe."

"He didn't die," he replied quickly and simply. "He just…left. Or maybe I left," he added, after a little thought.

The family just looked at him, at a loss of what to say or do. John's eyes were calculating, adding up things in his head, while Dean was just glaring at him, arms folded across his chest. Sam was crouched by his chair, hand still on his shoulder, looking at him with those sad puppy eyes.

"But hey," Gabriel said, his tone brightening. He stood, unheeding of the pounding headache he still had. "Are you gonna listen to some crazy teenager with a mental problem? It's not as though any of this stuff ever comes true."

"It doesn't?"

"Nooo," Gabriel scoffed, waving a hand to pass it off as nothing. "People with wings? Come on…Sam in that God-awful white suit?" He laughed. "I mean, I know the guy's a fashion retard at best, but that's a little far, even for him."

Dean smiled at that, resisting the urge to step over and ruffle Sam's hair.

John didn't say anything, just muttered to himself and sat down on one of the beds. Sam pulled him outside.

"Hey," he said quietly, still pulling the puppy eyes.

"Hey," Gabriel replied, smirking back up at him.

Sam didn't say anything more, just pulled him into a hug, arms wrapped around his waist. For his part, Gabriel wove his arms around Sam's neck, having to stand on tiptoes to bury his face in the junction between neck and shoulder.

"Let's get you back home, huh? Get some ice cream?"

"Damn straight. I'll drive."

"No breaking speed limits!"

Gabriel sighed. "Fiiiine."

Neither of them knew that Dean had seen them through a gap in the curtains, walking off towards Gabriel's car, hand in hand. He frowned a little, then turned back to the bed, where there were still firearms to clean.

Gabriel's bedroom was tidy for once, no clothes or notes strewn on the floor. To celebrate this momentous, once-in-a-lifetime occasion, they spread a blanket on the floor. It was old and worn, and a dusty grey color, but still soft.

Sam and Gabriel were both stretched out on it now, facing each other, still-clothed legs intertwined. Sam had his hand rested gently on the back of Gabriel's neck, fingers knotted in his hair as he pulled him closer to kiss him.

He concentrated solely on the feel of Gabriel's lips on his; the gentle brush of tongues as they explored each other's mouths. He relaxed into him as his hand brushed over his hip, curling over and pulling him impossibly close.

Sam pulled away and gave him a look, peeking out from under his bangs. Gabriel knew it was That Look – the one that meant Sam really wanted to drive him crazy and watch him squirm.

He was right.

He scooched down a little, and Gabriel turned so he was on his back. Slowly and reverently, he slid his fingers under the hem of his shirt, warm, but just barely brushing the skin of his stomach. He felt Gabriel tense a little under the contact, so breath-light and gentle. He moved his fingers to his flanks, brushing up and down a few times before lifting his hands right up and removing the t-shirt with a little help from Gabriel.

He ran his fingers along his torso, brushing pads of thumbs over his nipples, and relishing the sound of Gabriel's soft whimper. His hands moved to Gabriel's inner arm, turning it outwards with one hand and dragging fingertips along it with the other. He brushed fingers up and down the pale skin there, tracing the blue veins from wrist to elbow.

Soon Gabriel was humming contentedly, his eyes fallen shut, and Sam moved his attentions to the other arm, this time continuing up. Gabriel's breath stuttered when he felt Sam's lips press against his neck, while his hand continued to stroke against his side.

"God, Sam, your fingers," he muttered, burying his fingers in Sam's hair.

"Mmm?" he responded, slipping just the tips of those calloused fingers below the waist of his jeans, his other hand slowly but smoothly unhitching his belt buckle.

Sam was pressed impossibly close, his heat encompassing Gabriel as he whipped his belt off. He palmed the bulge in his jeans briefly, hearing Gabriel's breathing and the rasp of skin on denim. Sam could feel his chest rise and fall with each controlled breath, and felt it hitch when he popped open the button and slid the zipper down with a resounding 'tick tick tick'.

He slid lower, mouthing along Gabriel's collarbone, while at the same time easing both his jeans and boxers down, encouraging him to lift up his hips to help him. He pulled them clean off, and Gabriel was naked before him, thinking it was a little unfair how Sam was still fully clothed.

But it stopped mattering, because Sam had started to place wet, open mouthed kisses all down his torso, pausing to lave his nipples and then to circle briefly around his belly button.

He buried his nose in the hairs at the base of Gabriel's cock, inhaling deeply. "Jesus, Sam…" he gasped out, his hand flying to grab tightly onto his hair as Sam licked a slow stripe up the underside of Gabriel's cock.

He bucked once, but Sam slid a hand under his left leg, propping it up and letting it rest above his shoulder. At the same time he rested his hand on Gabriel's hip, effectively holding him down.

With a smirk, he promptly took just the head in his mouth, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around it. Gabriel's hand tightened in his hair, almost painful. It wasn't pulling him anywhere, it was just clenching more tightly and digging fingernails into his scalp.

At a whispered plea from Gabriel, Sam plunged down, taking more and more of his cock as he went; for his part, Gabriel had to use all his self-restraint not to buck violently and fuck that willing mouth.

"Ugnh, Sam, you're…unh…getting better. Fuck."

With Sam tonguing the slit every time he pulled back like that, he wasn't going to last much longer, but, much to his annoyance, he pulled off just before Gabriel was about to come.

He groaned at the loss, but Sam looked up at him, eyes ablaze. "Since you like my fingers so much," Gabriel couldn't pull his gaze away from those red, shiny lips. "Put that tongue to good use."

He offered his fingers then, placing two against Gabriel's bottom lip. He grasped his wrist and took the fingers into his mouth, sucking like they were the best lollipop ever.

Sam bent down again, placing wet kisses up and down Gabriel's cock, praising it, the whole time moaning at the feel of his tongue on his fingers. Once he felt the fingers were sufficiently wet, he pulled them from between Gabriel's lips. He whined at the loss, but Sam quickly resumed his eager sucking of Gabriel's dick.

"Fuckin' tease, Sammy…shit, I'm close."

It was time for Sam to put the final nail in the coffin. Still glistening, he reached his fingers down, and without warning, swirled one digit over the Gabriel's puckered entrance. He slipped just the tip of his index finger past the tight ring of muscle, and Gabriel keened and swore.

"Fuck!"

With that, Gabriel came, hot spurts of come pulsing straight down Sam's throat. He was getting better, because this time he swallowed all of it, and pulled off with a wet pop.

Hurriedly, he unzipped himself and jacked his cock once, twice, three times, before following Gabriel, his spunk covering his fingers. Gabriel looked down at him, eyes hooded, before gesturing wordlessly to bring his hand up.

Almost hungrily, Gabriel took his fingers into his mouth again, lapping up every last drop of come. Slipping his tongue in between each finger, he made sure to cover every inch.

When he was done, Sam collapsed next to him, breathless. He pulled him in for one last kiss, sucking greedily on Sam's tongue, trying to taste himself as much as possible in Sam's mouth.

"Shit, Sam. You're awesome at that."

As a thank you, Sam nipped gently at his bottom lip, smiling.

Sam was a little late home, and as usual when Sam was late, Dean was awake watching infomercials (or Casa Erotica, as was often the case). He just wouldn't get a break, would he?

After a muttered 'Sorry I'm late,' he attempted to escape to the bathroom to wash himself of the stench of sex before prolonged contact with Dean.

"Sam," he said, not angry, but not conversational either. He looked concerned.

"Yeah?"

Dean just stood and walked over to him, coughing once. He looked down as he clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"Dean…" he choked out, running out of air.

"You stink of sex."

"I know," Sam replied, blushing.

He pulled away, picking at his shirt. "Now I do too." He grinned, and ruffled Sam's hair, and Sam let him.

"Now, go shower this off." He paused, smiling back at Sam, before turning to crash back down on the bed.

"Alright." Sam couldn't help but grin too.