Evolution

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Gabriel/Kali, Sam/Gabriel (arranged), Sam/Dean/Castiel, a bit of Dean/Gabriel. Mentions of Lilith/Lucifer and Rafael/Pam.

Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Arranged sex under duress, Language, DSM dynamics, Violence, MPreg, OCs that are characters from the show but obviously have different relationships with the others.

Summary: The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.

Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox - or as I like to call it - God's epic sandbox of awesome. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:

If Alistair had been panicking, Dean was downright hysterical. It took both Sam and Castiel to physically restrain him before he would calm down, and even then he had kicked up a storm. Castiel's ribs were probably chipped; there was a nasty looking bite on his neck and forearm. Sam was pretty sure his middle and forefinger was broken on his left hand, and his head hurt from where Dean had tried to headbut him away.

He's here…Oh God he's here… Dean was a mess. His wings shook, flexed and pinned themselves to his back in defense, feathers ruffled and bloody from Castiel's attempts at keeping them pinned down – he'd yanked too hard and dislocated one of the thin bones that ran through their span. It stuck out half-way through his wing, white and red against ebony. Dean trembled, fear a haze in the air that Sam and Castiel were forced to breathe in; his skin was ghostly-white and he looked worse than when Sam and Castiel had found him after Michael.

Who is here? Sam asked, guiding Dean's head so their eyes could meet. His fingers had wound themselves in the young Angel's hair, soothing and petting as much as he could while he held him close. Castiel had plastered himself to Dean's back, stroking his uninjured wing and his flanks, whispering little Enochian terms of endearment into his Grace, trying to calm his mate down enough to be coherent.

Sam had never seen Dean so shaken. Ever. Even his nightmares hadn't been this bad. Dean, tell me. Love, please, who's here? Who is it that makes you tremble like this?

Dean's eyes closed as he buried his face in Sam's neck, one hand finding a grip on his forearm and clamping down tightly. He feels like Michael.

Michael is dead.

I know what I sense! Dean's body tensed from the force of his anger, amplified in the face of his fear. It's not Michael, I know that, but it feels like him. Father? Brother? He's sharper. Sharper than Michael was…he's cold, like glass. There was a moment of nothingness, where Dean finally seemed to relax, before he tensed up again, shooting to his feet faster than Sam or Cas could catch up. Only Castiel's hold on his wing slowed him down. He's here. He's close. I can feel him. He whirled around to his two mates, seeing them now standing too, and tried to pull free. Let me go! We must fly! We're faster, he won't catch us – we have to get away!

Dean, you must calm yourself. Castiel, the cold voice of reason, pulled Dean closer, into the confines of his arms. Your fear makes you noticeable, he whispered through their bond, placing a light kiss over the silvery-white fingernail scars on Dean's temple. You are making us all vulnerable. Calm down and we shall think this through rationally, and come up with something.

Neither Castiel nor I will let you come to harm, Dean, trust us. Sam's dark soul pressed more closely to the erratic ball of Dean's Grace, surrounding it in black smoke and blocking out whatever unwanted light might be nearby. Slowly, very slowly, Dean's shaking stopped, the tears drying on his cheeks as he forced his heartbeat to slow down and his breathing to return to normal.

Sam purred gently, placing a light kiss on the top of Dean's head, hands still petting his hair as he spoke; You're injured. You cannot fly. Almost as an argument Dean flexed his wings, only to mewl when the dislocated bone sent a flare of pain up his spine. There, you see? You are in no condition to run, or fight. Tell me, tell me where he is and I will find him.

Dean's Grace flared with panic, and if possible he clung to Sam even more tightly. No! He's a monster, Sam. You're the one he's after; you can't face him. I won't let you.

How do you sense this? Castiel asked, making himself known in the conversation as he rested his head over Dean's shoulder, frowning as he met first Sam's eyes, then Dean's. The Demon's eyes shifted to his young mate in shared curiosity. Have you met him, Dean? How do you feel him in such detail?

I… Dean shuddered, one of his hands shifting reflexively towards his head in an aborted movement, but Sam caught it, his eyes shifting to flat black when he followed the line Dean's hand would have taken, to his marred temple.

Dean…

No.

Tell us.

Now.

Dean's eyes slid closed, a heavy shudder running through him again. I've been able to feel him ever since Michael, he confessed, bracing himself for his mates' anger. The next words tumbled out of him, as though he were eager to just get them over with, pouring the weight he'd been carrying for a full year out now; the things that troubled him in his sleep. Everyone Michael had ever bonded with, I can feel. There are two strong ones, perhaps his brothers or his parents, and a few weaker ones that I can only assume are past mates or offspring. One of the strong ones is here. He opened his eyes again, determined that even if Sam hated him now, he would have to convince his mate not to go out and fight; that he would be killed if he tried. Please, Sam, if an Archangel is after you, or the parent of one, you don't have a chance. Let us run – all of us, now, before it's too late.

Sam was already shaking his head. No. The Demon's eyes were black, but not angry; merely concerned, filled with something Dean had never seen in Sam's eyes before – fear. Sam was afraid. If you can sense him, then he can sense you. I'm not letting him continue to hover like a shadow over your head. He will die today.

Sam, no! Too late, the Demon was headed towards the door. Dean tried to follow but Castiel's restricting hold kept him back. Unable to restrict Sam with his body, Dean's Grace pulsed out, grabbing at the black smoke of Sam's soul fiercely and digging in. The Demon visibly shuddered in pain at Dean's suffocating grip on him, before he hissed and threw the bright light of Dean's Grace off. Red-purple substance shone from the holes Dean's Grace had torn in Sam's soul.

Sam turned around, lips curled into a snarl of warning, a silent 'Don't try that again' hanging in the air between the Demon and the two Angels. Sam's eyes had changed color completely – instead of the normal black, his irises were a clouded mix of yellow, like amber or tiger-eye. Dean had never seen such a shade before, and the implications behind it were terrifying.

Keep him safe, Cas, was all that Sam said before he was out the door. There was a scratching on the door, and Dean knew without looking that the Demon would be inscribing a symbol of warding and protection on the door, to keep Gabriel away while he was gone.

Unfortunately, it would also keep Dean and Castiel locked in. And all three of the creatures had forgotten temporarily that the windows were still cracked and weak from Castiel and Sam's fight earlier that week.

They were standing in what was an essentially broken circle, and were vulnerable.

Sam was lucky that Gabriel didn't want to kill him just yet, because otherwise the Demon may have been in trouble.

The Demon didn't have much to go on – all Dean had said was that he was close. The only thing that Sam could assume was that he would be able to just tell when he'd found or seen the Archangel. After all, there was probably some distinctive feature or sensation that one generally associates with Archangels. Sam knew enough to be wary of Gabriel's potential influence over him, but Michael hadn't affected him – or had time to – so hopefully the Demon would be safe.

His vision had gone weird. Sam, of course, couldn't see his own eyes and so didn't know they had become yellow, but he felt the effects. He could practically feel the out-of-season warmth in the air as a visible thing, and around him the people, Angels and Demons he passed had a haze of orange and red about them, their heartbeats pulsing as a center of blue, purple and white.

People kept giving him strange looks on the street, wary and uneasy about seeing an unescorted Demon around with his weird-colored eyes, but for the most part they left him alone, unwilling to get caught up in anything if it turned out the Demon had a perfectly legitimate reason for being out.

Of course he did; some Archangel bastard was threatening his mate.

The Demons he passed gave him a wide berth, immediately deferent and submissive regardless of the roles they usually played. There're several legends in Demon culture – passed on through the generations – about what happens when a Demon's eyes take on the weird pearlescent shade. The color varies, but the results are always the same; somebody's gonna die today.

Gabriel found Sam in a park, four blocks from the apartment building in which Azazel and Alistair lived. Sam heard him before he saw him, and looked up to see those brilliant white wings almost block out the sun as the Archangel landed, not ten feet from him.

Sam cocked his head to one side, watching warily as Gabriel folded his giant wings, the tips trailing along the ground, his vessel too short to keep them clean. They looked heavy – Sam's eyes carefully took in every detail of the wings, cataloguing potential weak points – like the connecting joints from wing to shoulder – and how heavy they must be, if he would be able to out-maneuver them. Gabriel was blinding; Sam's new vision made him only see the Archangel as a swirling mass of white and yellow, and it almost hurt to look at but he forced himself to, unwilling to let the creature take any advantage.

The Archangel was beautiful, supposedly, it that weird look-but-don't-touch kind of way, but Sam didn't see what all the Angels got their feathers in a twist for.

And then Gabriel shook his wings, and Sam inhaled.

…Oh.

Sam involuntarily took a step forward, drawn by that smell – that scent, like pure Grace and heat and forests and blood, chocolate and mint and all kinds of sweet things. So much more potent and powerful than that of his mates, and decadent, like a combination of the most powerful aphrodisiacs in the world. Sam had wondered how Dean could have submitted to Michael when he'd been trapped with the Archangel, but smelling Gabriel now – it wasn't that hard to see why.

But…it was like seeing a giant, rich chocolate cake. It smelled good, would probably taste fantastic, but even the tiniest piece would make you throw up or stay in the bathroom for the next hour, because it was so rich. Too rich; and Sam had never been one for chocolate. It was tempting – very tempting – but the Archangel was too bright, too cold, and too decadent for his tastes.

He took a step back again, immediately on the defense once more. Gabriel hadn't moved, but each new inhale brought another wave of his scent, another gust of temptation that Sam had to will himself into resisting.

Dean had said Gabriel was after Sam. Maybe if Gabriel killed him, he would leave Dean and Castiel alone and they could be all happy and Angel-y together without his interference. That gave him some comfort.

"So, you're the Demon who killed my eldest brother." Sam blinked, confused; Gabriel was speaking in Enochian, but he was actually speaking, not just throwing the words out there mentally and hoping Sam would catch them, like Angels tended to do. He was actually using his mouth and vocal chords. "Sam."

The Demon nodded, suddenly unsure. "That'd be me."

"It takes a lot to kill one of us." What's with the lack of smiting? Of course, Sam liked living – it was enjoyable – and so he wasn't exactly disappointed that Gabriel hadn't immediately attacked, but…it was how Sam worked. He fought and defended and everything like that, preferring to use body language and violence to get his points across. Gabriel gave nothing away with his flat ochre eyes and unmoving vessel. Not even his wings twitched and no feather rustled.

Sam didn't like this. It was like the calm before the storm and it made him even more wary. What if this was just a distraction? What if this wasn't the real attack and he'd left Dean and Cas vulnerable in the apartment? What if something happened to them and he was stuck here making friendly with his enemy?

Sam shrugged. "It didn't seem that difficult," he replied, taunting, and Gabriel's jaw clenched in anger. Finally, some emotion. He could work with that. "In fact, your brother was kind of easy, and slow. I guess that's what happens when you rape before a fight."

Gabriel's lips twitched up in a smirk. "Yes, I hear your little virgin mate was quite the fuck." Sam growled – a warning – which of course Gabriel ignored. "Strange…" He cocked his head to one side, studying Sam; "You're not affected by my Grace."

The Demon growled; "Should I be?"

"Angels are." Gabriel shrugged, his wings splaying out behind him slightly at the motion. Sam tensed again, expecting some sort of attack, but again none came – okay, he was honestly starting to get that stone-in-your-gut feeling, where you know you just overlooked something really important and now you're going to pay the consequences for it. It felt like there were hundreds of eyes on him. "One whiff of an Archangel's Grace…" He stepped forward, and Sam stepped back on reflex, eyes fixed on Gabriel's, "or one word from me, and they're mine." Another step forward, another in retreat. Sam cursed his own trigger-happiness when his back met the rough bark of one of the trees in the park, barring a quick escape. Gabriel kept pressing closer, the scent of his Grace wrapping around Sam and the Demon fought the urge to just attack. "Do you know how many Angels have followed me here? How many that would rip you apart if I asked them to?"

Gabriel's wings came forward, not touching Sam but only arching over Gabriel's back, making him appear larger and more threatening. Sam snarled in defiance, and in a quick move grabbed onto one of the wings, knotting his fingers in the sensitive underside and pulled, dragging Gabriel closer to him. His other hand wrapped around the Archangel's throat, squeezing enough to warn as Sam met Gabriel's eyes, amber staring into gold.

"I'm going torip you apart if you don't agree to leave this city and never come near me or any of my mates again. I swear, I fucking swear on everything living that I'll do it, and to hell with the consequences."

His eyes burned yellow, fire in them as he dug his thumb into Gabriel's windpipe, and ignored the awareness of dozens of creatures creeping closer to them. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Gabriel, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of reddish wings, a chatter above his head of Angels moving in closer – he didn't have a lot of time, or a lot of leverage.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking for all the world like a Demon wasn't trying to choke the life out of him. Sam's fingers drew blood and he didn't even flinch. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam's hold kept him from doing so; he rolled his eyes and thought at Sam; You've gone all Alpha on me, Sammy. You're not thinking clearly.

"Oh, am I not?"

No, you're not. Gabriel smirked. As we speak there are Angels around the apartment you sealed your mates in. One thought from me and they're dead, both of them. Unless… He pried Sam's hand away from his throat, the Demon stiff and livid, "you calm down. I don't want to kill anyone…yet…but I will if you force my hand."

Sam bared his teeth, hating the underhanded blow of threatening his mates. He swallowed down the urge to say 'You wouldn't dare', knowing that Gabriel probably didn't give a shit if he was out for blood. No one refuses Archangels. He tore his eyes away from Gabriel's near-hypnotic gaze, seeing now that there were almost two dozen Angels surrounding the Demon, all of their eyes watching him, glowing with Grace. Some of their wings were glowing too, barely restrained violence pulsing in their feathers. Yeah, Sam wouldn't last long if Gabriel gave the order to attack.

His vision dimmed as the yellow faded from his eyes, letting them go back to their normal hazel shade. When they did so, Gabriel's blinding light dimmed as well, and Sam could see the creature for how he outwardly looked – a short man with sharp, elfin features, slicked back honey hair and a little bit of stubble around his jaw and down his neck. His lips were thin and there was a smirk on his face, and his eyes were no less golden.

"There," Gabriel purred, grinning with a spark in his eye, "that's better."

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked, fear for his mates keeping his temper in check, just barely.

The Archangel cocked his head to one side, looking up at the Demon. "Eventually? I want your head on a plate," he said with a smile, and Sam snorted, smirking a little in return – that was more like it. You knew where you stood with a good death threat. "But for now…Thanks to you, my kind is a dying breed. You are one of the few Demons bonded to an Angel, able to withstand their Grace for a child. I want you."

Sam's eyes flickered to black for a moment, frowning as he tried to understand what Gabriel was saying. "Demons and Angels make Archangels?"

"Smart boy. It's the only way to make them," Gabriel said, withdrawing from Sam for a moment, grasping his wrists behind his back in the pose of cocky bad guys with a superiority complex everywhere. "Some combination of genetics that create them. There has only been one litter of Archangels allowed to live and to avoid inbreeding, we didn't breed together. My brother and I are the only ones left. We need" – his eyes moved back to Sam, turning to look at the Demon over his shoulder "- variation."

"So you're just going to go around the country and force Demons to mate with you?" Sam asked, disgusted, his nose wrinkling and his eyes flickering black again.

Gabriel shrugged. "There's also my brother."

"That's sick. You can forget it," Sam snarled, taking a step forward towards Gabriel, and stopped only when three of the Angels surrounding them growled in unison, their yellowed wings flexing behind them, threatening. "You might as well kill me now."

Gabriel sighed; "I hoped it wouldn't come to this, Sammy –"

"Don't call me that."

"- but, if you're not open to persuasion…perhaps I can convince you otherwise." Gabriel smiled, an expression entirely too innocent for their topic of conversation. "Maybe when I have your mate in my care, you'll be a little more open to negotiation."

"Stay away from him!" Sam lunged forward, intent on tearing the wings right off Gabriel if it meant keeping Dean safe, even if he died because of it. Too late, though – Gabriel unfurled his wings and pressed down, beating them once powerfully and the three Angels that had growled at Sam launched onto the Demon's back, their combined weight forcing him to the ground and pinning him there. He could hear Gabriel hovering above his head and twisted his neck painfully to see him.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of killing him," Gabriel said, grinning in that still innocent-insane way. "After all, it doesn't have to be your Demon seed he carries. And he's practically my in-law; I've always loved reunions."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, ignored as Gabriel turned and flew away, several of the other Angels following him. Sam was only let up once Gabriel had disappeared, hidden among the trees of the park and likely already at the apartment. The Angels took off quickly, eyes flashing white when Sam growled at them, but there was no time to waste in fighting – he had to help Dean and Castiel. He had to rescue them, to save them.

So he ran. He ran faster than he'd ever needed to in his life, and when he reached the apartment he found the windows to be shattered, glass creating a fine layer on the pavement below where the windows used to be.

Fuck, he thought to himself, then; Hold on Dean, Cas, I'm coming. And he sprinted inside, praying to a God that probably didn't exist that he wasn't too late.