((This is just the rest I wrote and decided I didn't like))
Gabriel had no clue what time they got to the impressive cement bunker, only that clouds covered the sky and he smelled like sweat. He just wanted to lay down somewhere and pass out for six hours. He stumbled behind Dean, ignoring Castiel sitting shocked and pale in the half-darkness, and eventually found himself led by Dean to a suitable enough place to sleep—a ratty bed in a dusty, windowless room. He ignored the lack of sheets and shucked out of his clothes to Dean's squawking protests, and threw himself into the bed.
He woke up to utter blackness and the sound of violent hacking and Dean speaking softly. He frowned, and slipped out of the cell-like room. Tiptoed down the hall, until he spotted a soft yellow light and a barely open door. He peeked in—saw Sam Winchester crumpled on the floor, supported by his big brother, coughing and breathing hard. Droplets of blood spotted the floor. His hands hung limp beside his knees. His hair was tangled and his face was drawn. His eyes, ringed with tired bruises, flicked up glassy and red and caught Gabe's gaze. Gabriel's breath caught in his chest.
Dean looked up, face hard.
Gabriel swallowed anything he'd been about to say, and merely pushed the door further open before walking forward and dropping to his knees in front of the Winchesters. They stared at each other, and eventually all Gabriel did was whisper, "I'm so sorry, Sam."
Sam smiled weakly at him. "Me too." His voice came out hoarse and quiet.
Gabriel hid his tears until he'd returned to the cold bedroom down the hall.
He always forgot how much it hurt to see a strong man brought down.
...
Gabriel and Dean stood outside of the HQ in the early morning air, watching the sun rise. Gabriel took a deep drag from his cigarette and coughed. He scuffed his shoe against the gravel. Looked at Dean. "What's wrong with him?" He tossed his cigarette down and ground it beneath his heel with a set jaw.
Dean grimaced. "Healing, we hope." He laughed, bitter. "Hard to tell, obviously." He kicked up some gravel and stomped over to the Impala with hunched shoulders, and leaned his elbows on her roof, running a hand through his hair. "Fuckin' sucks, man. 'M afraid he'll die if I leave him alone for too long and I can't deal with that."
"Why is he sick?" Gabriel was nothing if not irritatingly persistent.
Dean shot him a glare over his shoulder, and kicked a tire. "Trials." He flexed his fingers. "We were gonna shut down Hell. Turns out that woulda killed Sammy so I stopped him, and he is getting better than he was before but..." He closed his eyes. "Headaches, vertigo, coughing up blood—for Christ's sake it's like he's disappearing. I just—I hate it." He thumped his hand against the car's side. "He never deserved this shitty life."
"Yeah, well." Gabriel turned his face to the clear sky and wished for rain. "Fate's a bitch."
Dean laughed and it went through Gabriel's spine like ice water.
...
"So! Looks like we've got Jesus, Mary, Ariel, the Grinch and the little Prophet who could." Gabriel smirked, flicking his lighter over and over. Sam shot him half of a smile, but Dean just glared. Castiel continued to stare silently at the floor with an infuriating air of guilt and depression, Kevin rubbed his eyes with a long sigh, and Crowley grumbled something under his breath. Gabriel beamed at them. "You guys got no sense of humor."
Dean flipped him off.
Sam shrugged—the blanket around his shoulders rustled—and sipped from a tall glass of water. He watched Gabriel unblinkingly for several seconds, until Dean cleared his throat. He shot Dean a look, then smiled at Gabriel. Gabe glanced to either side before pointing to himself questioningly. He raised an eyebrow.
Sam rolled his eyes and pursed his lips and Gabriel almost laughed at how wonderfully familiar the expression was. Sam nodded. "You're alive. How?"
Gabriel did laugh, then. Leave it to Sam Winchester to be insatiably geeky even while horrifyingly ill. Gabe swept a hand back through his hair, and shook his head. "It's simple, kiddo. I faked my death. Done it hundreds of times before. Luci may have thought I learned all my tricks from him, but I learned so much more in the world of Pagan gods." He winked. "Not just how to cheat death, either."
Sam snorted. Dean rolled his eyes with a groan.
"Really, though." Gabriel's expression softened. "I know a thing or two about running away."
Sam looked down at the table, tapping his finger on the sleek wood. Across from him, Crowley flipped through a dusty old book and scowled at them all. Kevin had stuck his face into his arms folded on the tabletop.
The conversation dwindled out.
...
"You know, smoking's bad for you." Sam shivered in the slight chill of the night, leaning against the Impala. Gabriel turned to face him, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah?" He blew a cloud of smoke from his mouth. (Away from Sam, though. He may have been a dick, but he was not the kind of dick who blew tobacco fumes into the face of someone recovering from illness.) His lips quirked into a bitter half-smile. "Well, I've never really been one for avoiding vices." He kicked at the gravel under his boots—finally able to tie a pair of laces. He looked up at the sky, and haze obscured most of the stars, but he saw glimmers of the brightest ones here and there and sighed. Not so very long since Falling, and he already sorely missed the days when he could—if he so desired—fly to a star and walk its seething surfaces with ease, or stroll the rings of Neptune, or bounce between Pluto's moons. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of cigarettes and car exhaust and wet asphalt and growing plants.
Sam remained silent.
Green toads creaked out from the shaded, damp trees. Fireflies winked out from the leaves as well. Gabriel wondered if there was a pond in that direction. He'd have to explore later. For that moment, he focused on finishing his cigarette and ignoring Sam's somewhat labored breaths.
"What did we do to deserve this? That's what I wanna know." Gabe flicked his spent cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel with more venom than necessary. Lifted his eyes to look at Sam. Sam stared at him, arms crossed tight over his chest with goosebumps all up and down. His tongue peeked out from his mouth. He broke eye contact, and shrugged, awkward and worn-down and seeming so much smaller than Gabriel remembered.
"Good question." Sam's voice drifted out just loud enough to be heard over the toads. "No clue."
Gabriel laughed harsh and too loud. "Life is such a crock of shit."
"Could be worse." Sam's shoulders hunched up. He coughed.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Whatever you say, kiddo."
...
Castiel's eyes remained unwavering—the color of a stormy ocean and much sharper. His shirt pulled too tight at his armpits but hung loose around his narrow wrists, too small. He tugged at the edge of one sleeve. Dean glanced away, at the bookshelves to his right, then back. Let himself blink.
"Cas."
Castiel's lips twitched, but he only squinted.
Dean pressed his hand to his face with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes and over his mouth. Stared at Cas between his fingertips. "C'mon, Cas, buddy." He smiled, sad and soft. "Talk to me."
Cas opened his mouth. Dean's stomach twisted, hopeful, but Cas closed it again and shook his head. His eyes pulled away from Dean's and fixed on the corner of the table they sat at. Dean let out a breath, and ran a hand through his hair, looking away.
"Okay, Cas. Okay."
...
"I can't believe you."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck you." He jammed the now-empty egg carton into the trash and turned his back on Crowley to focus on making breakfast. Just some simple scrambled eggs. Easy. Just a few bits of shell. The ancient burner glowed beneath the pan and he watched little bubbles pop up in the viscous yellow liquid. Smelled a little like fire.
Crowley crossed his arms. He leaned against the blindingly white refrigerator, hooking one foot in front of the other, and raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm just stating my disbelief at an Archangel cooking for a moose. And doing a poor job of it." He smirked.
Gabriel threw an exasperated look over his shoulder, accompanied by a raised middle finger. He poked at the eggs with his spatula. Crowley clicked his tongue.
"Who knew God's Messenger was so rude?" He chuckled. "Though I suppose you haven't been that for quite some time, hmm? Loki."
Gabriel slammed his spatula down on the counter and turned to face Crowley with thunder in his eyes. "Look." His chin jutted out. "You may be two inches taller than me and a giant prick, but I really would appreciate you getting out of my space." Both his eyebrows shot up. "'Kay?"
Crowley scoffed. "Oh dear. Was it something I said?" He drew away from the refrigerator and before Gabriel retorted, said, "Your eggs are burning. Ta." He gave a little wave and left the kitchen with a certain spring in his step. Gabriel cursed and whirled to drag Sam's breakfast off the heat. It smoldered at the edges, and he couldn't help but feel taunted. Delightful. Blackened edges, still squishy middle, much too brown bottom. (High heat—not the way to go.) The smell was horrendous. He grabbed the handle and dumped the entire pan unceremoniously into the trash, not caring that bits of the bag melted onto the metal, and clicked the burner off before storming away. He half-hoped the smoke would set off the sprinklers.
He sat on his bed, dusty memory foam providing him little comfort, and stared at the wall for something like five minutes straight until he finally threw himself facedown with his arms outspread, and sulked into his pillow. Despite his diminished powers, his foul mood managed to make the lights flicker. He peeked out, somewhat mollified, and willed them to flicker again.
His only light bulb shattered in a flash of light at the same time a soft knock came from the door. Gabriel groaned.
"Come in!"
A sliver of yellow light sliced into the darkness and silhouetted Sam's shape in the doorway. He reached for the switch, and when the lights didn't come on he sighed, exuding a put-upon air like no one else, and left the door wide so he could see.
"Really, Gabriel? Again?"
Gabe rolled onto his back with a grunt. "It was an accident." He waved expansively. "I swear."
"This is the third time." Sam sounded scolding, but from what Gabriel could see of his face he was smiling when he sat on the edge of Gabe's bed. Gabriel sat up and crossed his legs. Sam turned his head and his eyes glinted in the shadows. "What's wrong?"
Gabriel's jaw tightened and he gave a tight shrug. "'S stupid." He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "Just being an idiot."
"The eggs?" Sam shifted so he face Gabriel more fully.
Gabriel snorted. "You saw." He reached out a hand to prod at his toes, wiggling them. "Told you it was stupid. I just lost my temper is all." He licked his lips. Stayed silent for a long time—and Sam waited for him to get around to speaking. "Heard eggs are good when you're sick. Protein and stuff." He shrugged.
Light edged Sam's profile and Gabriel liked that he couldn't really see Sam's expression.
Sam shifted. "Gabriel."
Gabriel scowled. "Just thought it would be a nice gesture."
Sam laughed quietly. "It is." He moved closer, just a bit, and reached his hand out to settle it on Gabriel's knee. "Thanks for the thought, even if it didn't turn out well. I probably still would've eaten them." Gabe thought he saw the edges of his mouth turn up but maybe that was wishful thinking. He shrugged yet again, and gave Sam a tight smile.
"They were pretty bad."
Sam snorted. "Yeah. Well." He squeezed Gabe's knee before standing up—reaching for the edge of the bedframe when he wobbled slightly—and headed back to the open door. He stuck one hand in his pocket. "I'll see if Dean has another spare bulb lying around." And with that he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Gabriel seated on his bed in a dim rectangle of light. Gabriel tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes.
"Shit."
...
Kevin and Crowley stood just outside the main entrance to the HQ arguing. Unsurprisingly. Gabriel glowered in their direction and slotted a pair of headphones over his ears, to drown them out with music while he dawdled on the internet. (And how the hell they got Wi-Fi in a concrete bunker, he'd never understand.) The internet proved mainly irritating, full of people fighting over stupid things back and forth—aliens or Armageddon?! Is sasquatch even feasible?! Of course a man couldn't fall from the sky and survive, this isn't Thor! He closed out of the internet rather forcibly and leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes and let The Cure sing him into a daze.
Halfway through some song Gabriel couldn't be bothered to learn the name of, a bang startled him into reality and his eyes snapped open. Dean glowered down at him, hands planted on the table, mouth set in a fierce line. Gabriel glanced to either side, and raised his eyebrow. He slid the headphones off. "Can I help you?" He shut Sam's laptop carefully.
Dean grimaced. "Sam's asking for you." He rolled his eyes. "Something about needing help moving stuff he doesn't trust me with. Bedroom." His body language exuded anger. Chances are, he and Castiel had disagreed on something. Maybe the cause of Cas' status as a shut-in earlier that morning. (Now, though, he sat at a long table with books spread around him, not really reading any of them in particular but copying down phrases from their dry pages.)
Gabriel let out a low laugh. "Delightful." He stood, ignoring the harsh sound of the still ongoing argument, and ruffled Castiel's hair on the way from the library toward the bedrooms. Sam's door stood ajar at the end of the hall, and Gabriel knocked on the doorframe before entering. He shut the door behind him, quiet. Sam sat on his bed with his head in his hands, elbows planted on his thighs, back hunched and tense. His head turned slightly toward Gabe.
"Hey."
Gabriel frowned. "You okay?" He ventured closer. "Dean said something about moving things...?"
Sam laughed, then coughed. "I lied to him. Didn't wanna make him worry like he always does." He shrugged and drew his hands away from his face. He frowned. Rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry for bothering you." He pulled himself further up his bed and lay down on his back, and threw one arm across his face to block the light. Gabriel's mouth twisted. He switched the light off, and made his way by touch alone to Sam's bed so he could flick the lamp on and bathe the room in a more diffuse glow. He sat on the edge of the mattress.
"Don't apologize." Gabriel's voice sounded quieter than he meant it to. He made an aborted attempt to touch Sam's shoulder, but pulled his hand back at the very last second. Folded his hands in his lap. Smiled down at Sam. Sam, of course, didn't see because his arm still rested across his eyes. They sat in relative silence for a while.
Eventually Sam pulled his arm away from his face and sighed. Quirked his mouth at Gabe. "You know something?" He shifted to lay partially on his side, to face Gabriel easier.
"What?" Gabe raised an eyebrow, leaning back against Sam's headboard.
Sam smiled. "You're not as much of a jerk as you try to make people think."
"Gee, thanks." Gabriel rolled his eyes. He grinned at Sam, though, and nudged him with his leg. "You're not so bad yourself, shortstack." He winked.
Sam laughed, which turned into a mild fit of coughing. He reached out to shove Gabe's shoulder. Gabriel flinched away from him with a not-so-serious glare, and stuck his tongue out. He elbowed Sam until the taller man moved back a little bit, and lay down on his back beside him, throwing his arms behind his head for added support. He crossed his ankles. Sam's forehead crinkled. Gabriel turned his head a bit and smirked, with a brief wiggle of one eyebrow. Sam shook his head.
"You're ridiculous." He tapped on finger against Gabriel's temple.
Gabe beamed. "But you feel better now, right?" Another eyebrow waggle.
"...Yeah." Sam smiled. "Yeah, my headaches always seem better with you around." He brushed some stray hairs from his eyes. "Maybe some remnant of your uh... angelness." He snorted.
Gabriel laughed. "'Angelness,' Samsquatch? Really?"
"Angelicism?"
They both snickered. Fell silent again. Eventually, Gabriel turned to fully face Sam.
"You sure you're doin' better, Sam?" He avoided Sam's eyes. "You look tired."
Sam sighed, heavily. His expression softened, but not in a particularly pleasant way. Just... resigned. He half-smiled, half-grimaced. "Hard to sleep when I've got raging migraines and coughing fits and bad dreams. Gets worse at night, you know?" His tongue flickered out to wet his lips. He closed his eyes. "But it's better than it used to be." He sighed. Slid his hand over to grip Gabriel's, for reassurance or out of gratitude or what, Gabe didn't know. He just squeezed Sam's hand in return.
They stayed like that, and Sam fell asleep after a bit. Gabriel decided not to move, unwilling to wake Sam after he'd finally gotten settled into a rhythm of slow breaths and slack face. He chose to remain beside him, watching his mostly peaceful expression, feeling his pulse through his palm. Gabriel wasn't much of the praying type, but he prayed just a bit for an uninterrupted rest. He'd heard Sam wake in the early hours of the morning—shouting and terrified from nightmares—more than often enough. Hated it. Hated seeing Sam Winchester so panicked and drawn.
But of course, the peaceful sleep only lasted so long before Sam began to twitch, and his pulse heightened and his breathing sped up. Now and again he whimpered, almost inaudible. Gabriel pulled him closer, in the dim glow of the lamp, and wrapped his arms tight and secure around him. Sam's breaths caught, and then steadied again, though his heartbeat still hammered and he continued to tremble and murmur in his unconscious state. Gabriel rubbed a hand up and down his spine, and mumbled meaningless words against Sam's temple. Calming words, in Enochian and English and Korean and Hebrew, and whatever other languages made their way in. Sam relaxed into his embrace, and quieted. Gabe preened. He'd collected Sam from his night terrors and set him secure and pliant. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little proud of himself.
After at least forty minutes, tangled in Sam's arms now, Gabriel too fell asleep.
...
"Oh, shut your cakehole." Gabriel tapped his pencil against the newspaper.
Dean snickered. "You two were snuggling." He crossed his arms. "Cuddling." He ignored the bitchy expression Sam shot him and gave Gabriel a gleeful grin.
Gabe rolled his eyes. "We both fell asleep." He raised his eyebrows. "We're both people who like physical affection. It's a thing that happens, Deano." He shook his head and filled in a row on his crossword.
"Yeah, yeah." Dean leaned back in his chair, and grinned at Cas standing on the other side of the room reading. Cas' lips twitched in what might have been called a smile. Dean returned his attention to Gabriel. "Keep telling yourself that, man. Still totally gay."
Gabe pulled a face. "As if I give a shit." He glowered down at the newspaper as if it personally offended him, then shoved it in Sam's direction with a grumble. Sam took it with enthusiasm. Gabriel turned his strange-colored eyes on Dean. "Whether or not something is gay is the least of my concerns. Especially considering the people I have done."
Dean blanched. "What?"
Gabe smirked, and propped his feet up on the chair beside his. "Think about who you're talking to! I've had more one-night stands than I care to count, and they were definitely not all women." He leered. "Plenty weren't even human."
Dean frowned. "TMI, man." He glared at the tabletop.
Ignoring Dean's statement, Gabriel continued. "Anyhow, who wouldn't be all over Sammich here?" He eyed Sam appreciatively, and Sam rolled his eyes (but blushed) and pursed his lips. Gabriel winked at him.
Dean glared.
...
"Dude, what the fuck is this?" Dean grimaced at the radio, and prodded at a few buttons. All he received was an offended spurt of static and the muffled lyrics from the speakers,
The season rubs me wrong
The summer swells anon
So knock me down, tear me up
But I would bear it all broken just to fill my cup
Down by the water and down by the old main drag.
Gabriel winked at him in the rearview mirror. "The Decemberists." He crossed his arms, and tapped his foot against the back of the bench seat. His mouth quirked, and he leaned forward. Tapped Dean's shoulder. "I'm in the mood for something other than a constant stream of AC/DC, and I have just enough juice to make sure I get what I want."
Dean shot him a glare in the mirror. "Since when do you listen to weird indie crap?" He pulled out onto the road, arm slung along the seat behind him, hand resting just behind Sam's shoulder. "I thought you were a fan of Asia or something."
"I'm gonna level with ya here, Deano." Gabriel raised his hands. He adopted a patient, amused expression, as if explaining the concept of dark matter to a five year old. "I put that song on the radio because one: it's something you'd listen to, and because two? It would annoy Sam. Also it's got some pretty relevant lyrics." He crossed his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on the back of the bench seat. He tapped his toe lightly on the back of Sam's neck until Sam leaned forward with a grumble. "Right, Sammy?"
Sam glowered at him over his shoulder. "What are you even talking about?"
Gabe gave an exasperated sigh. "C'mon! Are you really as dumb as you look?" He rolled his eyes. "'I never meant to be so bad to you.'" He smirked. "'A look from you and I would fall from grace'? This song screams you and me, me and you... Catch my drift?"
"You're kidding." Dean pressed the accelerator and his Baby's engine grumbled. "Please tell me this is a joke and you're not really hitting on my brother right now. Please."
Gabriel laughed. "Oh Dean, you sweet, young thing."
Dean pulled a disgusted face.
Sam rolled his eyes in the passenger seat.
...
Gabriel sat in the stiff wooden chair with his head thrown back, slumped down, legs splayed out wide. The ultimate picture of boredom. His eyes were closed against the harsh lighting of the library.
He was asleep, actually, with a book slipping down his leg.
Beside him, Sam muffled a cough into his sleeve before reaching over to snatch the book from his leg before setting it on the table. He smiled softly. Marked something down on his papers, and grabbed a different book.
Across the library Castiel flipped through magazines. Dean stood next to him, silent and watchful, occasionally trying to start up a whispered conversation. Each time though, Cas only met his eyes and remained wordless.
Back at the bunker, Kevin and Crowley had struck up an uneasy alliance. They moved around each other carefully, like orbiting planets. Only snapped at each other once or twice.
Maybe nothing was particularly perfect... But it was better than anyone really expected.
Sam was slowly healing. Gabriel had found a home again. (Sort of.) Crowley was slightly less of a douchebag. Kevin was... well. He was alright.
And maybe Castiel couldn't find the words he needed at that moment, but Dean held out the hope that one day he would look up from a book and instead of a gentle shake of his head, would speak. Would talk to Dean about what ran through his mind. And Dean would be there to listen.
...
"You really were flirting, weren't you?"
Gabriel kicked at a pebble beneath his shoe and shrugged. He avoided Sam's eyes.
Sam smiled. "You're an idiot."
Gabe looked up. "Who, me?" He frowned.
Sam nodded, and held out his hand. Gabriel took it, and Sam pulled him close so their bodies pressed together. He wrapped his arms around Gabriel's shoulders. He sighed. Gabriel relaxed against him.
"I guess I am an idiot, huh?"
In response, Sam pulled back a little, hooked his fingers under Gabriel's chin to tilt his head back, and kissed him.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
In the distance he heard the sound of a pigeon cooing to itself.