Sam leant over the body, studying it critically. He hadn't planned on killing the man, he mourned silently. At least it looked like a cut and dried suicide, he cheered himself up. There'd be no one asking strange questions of the only stranger in the tiny town.
The man had been trapped in an illusionary world inside his own mind. It wasn't as powerful as Gabe's and was breakable, but it usually got the lesson learned. This man had apparently been irredeemable after all. Sam sighed. He had put a lot of effort into trying to reform the man too. What a waste. Three weeks of powering an illusion, and subtly influencing everyone around him, and he'd ended up dead anyway.
He'd have to leave the area soon. This was the fifth death in a relatively small area, and he was bored with this town now, anyway. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, returning his attention to the last member of a human trafficking ring he'd discovered. Some people really were the absolute worst. Worse than any monster he'd hunted, before, or since. The rest of the town was alright. Typical humans, but alright, he could acknowledge as he slid the body away, hiding it from sight. He glanced around and grinned, before snapping his fingers and vanishing from the room. Take that security cameras.
Sam stumbled as he reappeared in his motel room, yawning widely enough that his jaw cracked. He collapsed backwards onto his bed, running his fingers through his hair and debating getting up again for food. Deciding against it, he booted up his laptop and lay back again, letting his heavy eyelids flutter shut gratefully. It felt like lead bars were glued to his lids.
Several high pitched beeps had Sam jolting back upright, suddenly wide awake and terrified, staring at the screen. "Gabe this had better be you." Demonic omen alerts were surrounding the town in a huge circle.
Hands settled on his shoulders as the mattress shifted from the angel's additional weight. "Not me, kiddo," he denied quietly. "We'd best get out of here before hunters start showing up, or the demons get a good look at us. They hate pagan gods as much as the angels do."
Sam hummed his agreement and Gabe snapped his fingers. Nothing. Sam stilled, even as Gabe flung himself off the bed and started cursing.
"But you could get in." Sam denied, fear tightening his throat. Panic always threatened when the demons got too close. He didn't know what the plan was for him, and the others like him, but demons were challenging in a way they weren't with anyone else he'd ever seen.
"They must be letting everyone in." Gabe theorised, curling his fingers over Sam's wrists. He sighed at the buzzing in his chest caused by skin contact with Gabe, struggling to keep his focus.
"But how have they managed to trap you?"
"I don't know, Samsquatch." Gabe was uncharacteristically serious. "I don't even know why they picked this town. They can't know you're here. Not even Azazel can overpower my Grace."
Sam shuddered. He knew more than he probably wanted to about the demon that had killed his mother and still wondered why Gabe would choose to be around the boy with the demon blood. He was clearly tainted, slated to be evil. Gabe's hand tightened on Sam's. He seemed to know what Sam was thinking. "Stop it Sammy." He rebuked quietly. "Your soul sings to my Grace, and you can feel it too. You are mine." Sam slumped forward, pressing his cheek to Gabe's chest, focussing on the muffled feel of Gabe's Grace, humming under his skin. It was hidden outside the safe house, even he could barely feel it, and that was through the link they shared. Surely he couldn't be bad or tainted if an angel cared for him, he reassured himself, fingers gripping the base of Gabe's shirt.
"Do you think we can just, well, drive out?" He wondered half-heartedly. "I can start a car with a thought now." If the demons were this organised, and this powerful, they probably already had the roads covered somehow, but it was always worth a try.
Gabe grimaced at the idea of a car, but nodded, however reluctantly. Sam huffed a laugh. He knew Gabe hated crs, he insisted they were restricting his wings. The wings that usually existed on a different plane of reality to his vessel. "It will only be until we're out of the area." He promised, already throwing things in his duffel. "If it works." He added under his breath.
"Now, Sammy," Gab declared, grinning happily, "That's no attitude to have." He adored ridiculous circumstances, and this was the worst they'd come across that wasn't inflicted by themselves in a long while.
They ducked out of the room, opening the first car he passed. The lock clicked under Sam's hands, the door opening silently. Trickster magic was so practical, Sam grinned happily, the car rumbling to life under his hands with a tendril of will.
"Why are trickster magics so arbitrary?" Sam asked, distracting Gabe as he pulled the car onto the road.
Gabe shrugged. "Trickster magic works with will and the mind. You're only limited by the physical limits of your body, your will and your imagination." He flashed a grin at Sam. "You're only limited by the limits of your body. Most stubborn human I've ever met, and your imagination is vile, even by my standards."
"Hey!"
"Sam, please. That paedophile hasn't had sex with anyone since you had your fun. He hasn't even looked."
Sam shrugged, even as he catalogued what Gabe had said thoughtfully. "I was surprised he survived, to be honest. It wasn't really part of the plan."
Sam cursed softly when he looked back onto the road. A squad car was parked across both lanes. Sam reluctantly slowed to a stop, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Gabe. They clearly had several very high up people possessed.
The elder of the two, a grizzled man with a heavy paunch approached the car. Sam wound the window down, the sulphur hanging in the air almost making him gag. "What's going on?" He asked, keeping his voice polite and mildly curious.
"Roads damaged," he explained. Liar. "We've had to close the road until further notice."
Sam nodded, even as he shifted the car into reverse. "This is a big move." Gabe muttered as they drove down the main street. His eyes were narrowed and angry, and Sam felt, suddenly, that this was the beginnings of the archangel Gabe kept so carefully hidden. "Nearly everyone in this town is possessed. It's big and daring, but what's the end game?" His lips thinned. "And where're the soldiers of the Host? Where are the angels? A demonic concentration like this should have the angels down from Heaven and smiting everything in sight. There should be dozens of my brothers and sisters."
Sam left the car in the same park he'd taken it from. As soon as both hands left the wheel, the engine stopped, spluttering. Sam stopped at the door, suddenly hesitant. He didn't even know why. Something niggled at the back of his mind, his instincts humming.
Gabe hesitated, staring at the Impala. He couldn't deal with that right now. When had the Winchesters arrived?
"Gabe?" Sam was leaning against the still closed door, expression quizzical, bangs falling in his face. "What's up?" Gabe grinned, taking the several steps to be too close to Sam. He hooked a hand behind his neck and dragged the taller male down, kissing him hard. Gabe had a very bad feeling about this.
"Sammy?" Gabe released Sam reluctantly, letting him rise to his full height. The Winchester even sounded the same, he noted irritably, except he had something that was oddly like a kicked puppy to him now. "What are you doing here?" He strode towards them, swaggering, still in leather and denim with the heavy boots.
Sam froze, turning slowly to face his brother. "Dean." He looked anguished. Gabe flinched. He was embarrassed to be seen with him in front of his family. Well. That was a kick in the teeth.
Sam hands grasping his so tightly it would have hurt if he weren't an angel reassured him. Gabe berated himself for the ridiculous insecurity. He could feel Sam. He needed to think, rather than react when it came to Sam and the Winchesters.
Dean pulled his brother into a rough hug, one that lasted almost long enough to be awkward. "We've been looking for you everywhere, dude." Dean ignored Gabe with an ease that left his speechless. He could smite this pathetic little human. Well, Michael would probably have him brought back, but that wasn't the point, dammit.
Sam was staring at his brother, clearly not certain how to respond. Finally, he moved. The silver knife was drawn from its sheath on his forearm and handed to his brother. Dean sighed, exasperated, but slit the skin easily enough, red blood rising to the surface. Sam passed him the flask of holy water before swallowing a mouthful himself. "What's going on, Sammy?"
Sam shook his head. "Not out here." He opened the door and settled on the bed, his hands clenched so tightly in his lap Gabe winced in sympathy. Gabe closed the door once everyone was inside.
Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to stop the trembling in his hands. He didn't need know what to do with Dean suddenly here.
Dean leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Sam bit his lip. How could Dean be so the same? Stand there like nothing had happened, like no time had passed? He felt awkward and gangly, suddenly like the sixteen year old he no longer was. He felt like he took up too much space, too much oxygen. He was suffocating.
Gabe settled on the bed, hand working its way under Sam's shirt to press against the skin on his lower back.
Dean broke the awkward silence that had descended on the room. "So," he prompted, "What's been happening, Sammy?"
Sam flashed a grin. He didn't think he could tell his brother the truth. He rather liked his gig at the moment, and didn't want hunters after him yet. It would happen eventually, but if he could prolong his peace, he would. "Travelling mostly." He decided on, ignoring Gabe choking by his ear as he desperately swallowed laughter. "U.S. and Europe mostly. We did spend a week in Australia." Sam grimaced at the memory. He hadn't worn sunscreen, thinking it couldn't be that hot. It had been, and he had been so burnt he couldn't do anything afterwards. "Damn hot there." He grinned again. "But we hunted a bunyip. They exist, apparently."
Dean was gaping. "What happened to you?" He demanded. "You hated hunting. Wanted to be normal, go to college, get married, the whole apple pie life."
Sam shrugged. "We tried that, actually. Turns out normal is boring as hell. And the school was haunted. But," he acknowledged, "Hunting isn't all we do." He knew Gabe was leering over his shoulder.
Dean flinched, "Dude. I do not need to know about my brother's sex life. Especially with another dude."
"Hey," Gabriel sounded almost offended. "I do not technically have a gender."
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, alright." He waved his hands, dismissing the whole conversation easily. "Help me with this hunt, Sammy, and then come with me after. I don't even see Dad often." He hesitated. "We miss you." Sam snorted. Dean, he could kind of believe. Dean had always looked after Sam, until suddenly he didn't. He couldn't really picture his Dad caring about anyone but his dead mother.
"I won't give up Gabe." Sam insisted, implacable. "And you have to swear neither you nor Dad will try before I even consider this."
Dean sighed and opened his mouth, expression mulish. He caigh Sam's eye and sighed, closing it again and scrubbing a hand roughly through his hair. What had happened to the Sam that hero worshipped Dean and did anything for him? "Fine." He grunted. Sam nodded, satisfied.
"This is all fine and lovely," Gabe drawled, "A real Hallmark moment. But you're forgetting the most important issue here."
Sam glanced away from his brother and nodded. "Right, the demons."
Dean stared. "What? I was following this rumour of suspicious deaths in the area." Sam didn't flinch. That was probably him, he acknowledged. His brother had been hunting him.
Gabe snorted. "Who cares about a few murders? The whole town's possessed, and the only roads in or out are blocked." He scowled. "They've done something to prevent me leaving, too. It's a seriously high level demon doing this."
Dean scoffed. "You're the Trickster. Surely you're not that powerful."
Sam laughed, clear and bright. "You have no idea, Dean."
~~SPN~~
Gabe settled against the headboard, Sam resting against his thigh comfortably. Gabe ran an absent hand over the smooth strand of hair, enjoying the sensation under his fingers, and the fact that he wasn't flinching away, even in front of his beloved older brother. He handed Sam a conjured lollipop, which the eighteen year old took with a smile of thanks. Sam was avoiding using his own sympathetic abilities in front of his brother, but the power was still there and it made the body crave sugar. Even Gabe didn't know the hows and whys behind the physiological changes it caused.
"Since when do you like sugar, Sammy?" Dean asked suspiciously. Sam was always almost excessively health conscious as a kid, especially considering the life they lived.
"It's Sam," he corrected half-heartedly around the lollipop. "And a while, actually. I blame Gabe." Dean didn't respond, lips tightening in silent disapproval. He wasn't sure about this Sammy. But it was still his baby brother, so they'd have to see, he supposed.
"What are we going to do about these demons?" Sam not-so-subtly changed the direction of the conversation. "This town is awful, even without them and I want to leave already."
Gabe grinned around his own lolly. "You could always just go out there and tell them to leave, Boy King." He sounded far too amused for Sam's peace of mind. In an almost automatic response, he pinched Gabe's side, laughing with his brother when he squaled like a girl and squirmed away too far, toppling ungracefully onto the floor.
"Oh, Gabe," Sam leaned over and lifted Gabe onto the bed, one handed. His voice shook with mirth as he stuttered out an apology. Gabe huffed but tugged Sam back against him by his hair.
"I suppose it could be argued that I deserved that." He admitted reluctantly. "But," he added severely, "That was a crude trick by anyone's standards, and I am thoroughly disappointed in you, Samsquatch."
"Can we get back on topic?" Dean snapped, already irritated with the overly casual attitude displayed by the two tricksters.
"Sure, Dean-o," Gabe agreed easily. "Any bright ideas for eliminating approximately three hundred demons without one or more of us ending up dead or captured?"
Sam frowned. "How are there even that many on the surface? Ususally there's no more than a hundred or so, all over the planet." He hesitated. "Unless," he shared a significant glance with Gabe. "You don't think?" Gabe hesitated, clearly uncertain, and Sam continued. "He might think that I died when I was hidden." It was a weak suggestion and they both knew it, but neither could think of a better explanation.
"So you think he might have triggered it early?" Gabe mused. "It's a distinct possibility, if everything lined up like he wanted. It's possible," he admitted after a pause, "But demonic activity is still less than it would be, if a Gate was open somewhere in the continental U.S."
"Would you care to explain?" Dean's tone was frigid, hazel eyes flat and suspicious.
Sam glanced at Gabe. "Not really," the angel denied. "We don't want you running off and doing something stupid."
Dean surged to his feet, the legs of the chair squealing on the old linoleum floor. "You asked me, Dean." Sam kept his tone warning and Dean sat abruptly, betrayal splashed across his face.
"Sammy," he began. Sam felt the usual surge of guilt when Dean used that particulat tone, before it was overwhelmed by something else.
Anger. "No." It was sudden and almost irrational in its severity. He'd never get used to the emotional fluctuations caused by the power constantly resting in his body. "You don't get to do this, Dean." Hazel eyes widened in shock, even as green narrowed. "You make me choose, and then come back and demand answers? I'm not being made to feel guilty over this." His tone softened. "You don't get all the answers 'just because' anymore Dean. There's been a lot of things you weren't a part of because of ultimatums you gave and you have to learnt to deal with that if we're going to be brothers again."
Dean slumped, the aggressive bluster deserting him abruptly, shoulders slumping. "You're right." He stared fixedly at the wall. "You're right and I'm sorry, alright." He glanced over at Sam. "So, we good?"
Sam swallowed the sigh that wanted to escape. There was another attempt at guilting him there. It was probably a good thing he was a trickster and his conscience was a little skewed because of it, so he wasn't too bothered. "We're good, Dean." He relaxed back against Gabe, curling his hand around the angel's bare ankle, enjoying the soothing sensation of Gabe's Grace hum against his soul, in time with his soul.
"Unless he has better control of the demons than we were anticipating?" Gabe mused, stepping right back into the previous conversation after the awkwardness of the Winchester's tangent.
Sam's hand tightened on Gabe's ankle as he stared at his brother, a memory floating near the surface of his mind. It might even work. "We can figure it out later. Right now, I might have an idea of how we can get rid of all the demons here in a single hit." He grinned, a shimmer of madness in his eyes. "It's risky, but I think it's workable." He fixed his eyes on his brother. "But you have to trust me here, Dean. Absolutely."
Dean met his eyes fiercely. "Of course I do. You're my little brother."
Sam laughed. "We'll see." Gabe prodded his shoulder, encouraging him to get on with it. "We announce the presence of the Righteous Man and stand him in the middle of a huge Devil's Trap. I can paint that tonight under smokescreen. I'll keep it under smokescreen tomorrow, too. We'll have to do it in the morning, so the fog isn't suspicious. But we cover the Righteous Man in protections." He tilted his head. "Enochian, maybe?" He queried Gabe, who grinned.
"I like it."
"Who is this Righteous Man?" Dean asked. Sam thought he was justifiably wary when Gabe turned to him, grinning with far too many teeth exposed.
"Me?" Sam was sure his brother would deny that squeak until his dying day. "But. What? I don't understand."
"Oh, you're not the Righteous Man yet, but if everything goes the way the demons plan, you will be. Instead, you're going to help us kill a lot of demons, and never become the Righteous Man."
"I don't know what about this plan to pick apart first." Dean decided.
Sam grinned, leaning forwards eagerly. "Do your worst."
"You can't kill demons. You just send them back to Hell."
"Usually," Gabe agreed, drawing a gleaming silver blade from somewhere, "This will kill nearly anything. But definitely a demon. It was designed when I was created, for me to kill demons." He smirked at the hazy lust in Dean's eyes. "You can't have it, unfortunately. It would burn you up before you'd killed your first demon." Dean's face fell as Gabe tucked it away again.
"Okay," Dean tried again. "The demons will tear me apart."
Sam scoffed at this. "No, they want. They need you. Demons are trying to kick start the Apocalypse, and they need you for that. You're not slated for Hell, so if you die and go to Heaven, no Apocalypse. Azazel would tear apart whichever demon did it, and probably a hundred other just because." Dean was gaping and Sam grinned. "Don't worry, we'll cover you in protections so they can't actually touch you anyway."
"Do I even have a choice?" Dean asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Of course." Sam exclaimed. "This, or die trying to fight your way out of town." Dean and Gabe both snorted.
"Some choice." Dean grumbled before sighing explosively. "Fine." He agreed. "But," he added warningly. "If I die, I'm going to haunt you forever. Bitch."
Sam snorted. "Whatever. Jerk."
~~SPN~~
Dean stood nervously in the centre of an almost invisible Devil's Trap. His hands were bound, as were his feet. The chain linking his limbs, weighing down his arms, was also bolted to the ground, preventing him from moving more than a few steps in any direction. He shifted nervously and the chains rattled loudly in the eerie silence. He was not comfortable with this.
Sam was on the roof of a building directly in front of Dean. He smiled reassuringly at his elder brother, and Gabe was nowhere in sight. Dean was not comfortable with that, nor with the unfamiliar symbols painted on his chest, back and down his arms. "The Righteous Man stands amongst you." His voice carried further than it should, echoing over the silent town. "Whom shall be the one to tempt the Righteous Man on the path that leads to Hell and freedom for your Lord?" There was a subtle rustle. Dean cringed. "Whom shall stand highest in the regard of the General? Whom shall be the one to create the harbinger of the Apocalypse? Who shall be the one to end the scourge of humanity upon the earth?" Sam's voice was thunderous. The last sentence echoed oddly, hundreds of voices whispering it in awe.
Everything happened at once.
Black eyed people burst from everywhere, common sense overruled by lust. None of them even noticed the lines of the Devil's Trap until they were already inside. Even then, the crush from the followers prevented them from trying to escape as they all scrambled towards Dean.
A circle formed around him, none of the demons quite willing to get within arm's reach of the man. They all stared at him eagerly with their solid black eyes.
"Well, Dean Winchester." One of them started after a moment that felt like an eternity. It's fingers curled into fists in anticipation. Sam snapped his fingers and was suddenly in the circle.
"Hey Dean." Sam grinned at his brother as the manacles clattered open and fell to the ground. Several demons in the front few rows recoiled at the sight of him. "Lovely day to kill a demon." He settled a hand on his brother's shoulder as he spoke, keeping his other hand low and hidden as he snapped his fingers, taking them back to the rooftop, away from where Gabe had suddenly appeared.
"He was standing right there," Dean started, gobsmacked.
"The whole time," Sam agreed, grinning. Several demons starting backing away at the sight of Gabe, until they hit the edge of the Trap. Screams reached them as the bodies nearest Gabe lit up, black smoke burning even as it rushed out of the bodies. The people collapsed, creating an obstacle course for Gabe to manoeuvre. Gabe had a clear space around him as demons tried to flee.
"You could help, Sammy," he called up, "Or this is going to take all day."
Sam glanced at his brother, and almost immediately, there was a terrifying crash. Gabe staggered upright from what was now the remains of a building, blood dripping from a cut in his face.
Sam snarled. They had hurt Gabe. That was the biggest taboo anyone could do. Sam flung a hand out, a physical representation of will to control something he didn't have excellent control over. His hand closed into a fist. Several demons staggered, a terrified wailing rising from the creatures on the ground. Sam twisted and yanked. Viciously. Black smoke exploded from the remaining possessed.
Blood dripped from Sam's nose, his mouth filling a moment later. He blinked the redness from his vision, gritting his teeth and pulling harder. No one hurt Gabe. Gabe was his. Unearthly, disembodied screams rose from the Trap before all the smoke vanished into the ground and blessed silence fell over the town again. Sam felt his legs give out as his vision blacked. He thought he heard Dean calling his name before surrendering to the blessed nothing of unconsciousness.
Sam returned to awareness slowly, breaking through in stages.
First, hearing returned. "What the fuck was that?" That was Dean, Sam realised. Dean sounded very angry, he noted worriedly. Dean should be happy. They'd killed all those demons, and they could never hurt anyone again.
Maybe he'd realised Sam was a monster, a freak. Something not human. Something a little demonic himself. Probably didn't want a monster freak for a brother. Sam couldn't blame him. Dean was very regular, human all the way through, and lived in a black and white world where the monsters weren't human. Sometimes Sam was glad he'd never lived in that world, or he would have put a bullet through his own brain when the visions started a year ago.
Gabe, in comparison, was calm, a surprise for the usually volatile archangel. "That was Sammy." His tone was level and uncompromising. "Exactly the same as he's been since he was a baby." Sam was glad Gabe hadn't said 'since he was born.' That would have been a lie, and he didn't want to lie to Dean. Truthfully, it was Sam since the night he was six months old, Sam since Azazel had changed something in him. "Well," Gabe amended, "Except for our bond of course. But that's not responsible for the ability to kill demons. Even I can't do that. Sammy's quite powerful, you know."
Physical sensations returned next. Sam almost immediately wanted to cry. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his body ached down to the marrow o his bones. He lost track of the conversation.
Eventually his eyes fluttered open, wincing against the light from the kitchen. It felt like it was drilling into his brain. Gabe leaned over him, honey eyes soft and liquid with relief. He dropped a kiss on Sam's nose. "Good to have you back, Samsquatch."
"How long?" He managed to rasp. Speaking felt like dragging sandpaper down his throat.
"Three days, kiddo." Sam grimaced, casting his eyes around for Dean. He was terrified his brother had left after discovering Sam was a freak, that there was something wrong with him. "He's next door." Gabe's eyes were soft with understanding. Sam nodded. At least he was still here, even if it seemed he couldn't be in the same room as Sam.
Gabe ran his hands up the sides of Sam's throat, cupping his jaw in his hands. "You never do that again." Gabe glared at him. "I have never been more terrified in my life. Including when the Virgin Mary cussed me out when I told her about the honour of Immaculate Conception." Sam choked on a laugh. "And," One thumb brushed over his cheekbone. "There was only one fatality, my fault, so I dropped everyone back in bed and made them think it was a particularly vivid hallucination from a chemical leak." Gabe knew him too well sometimes, especially considering he rarely cared about human casualties.
Sam croaked another painful laugh, relaxing back against the pillows, enjoying the slight weight of Gabriel on his chest.
~~SPN~~
Gabe grumbled as he sprawled across the back seat of the Impala. "I don't know why we couldn't just meet him wherever he stopped for the afternoon." He shifted again, the rustle of feathers loud in the silent car.
"I want to actually spend time with my brother, Gabe," Sam sighed, "And considering he spends most of his time in the car or hunting, we drive. You don't have to stay, you know."
Gabe snorted disbelievingly. Sam didn't know him well if he thought Gabe would leave him on his own, especially with his idiot of a brother.
"I know you've missed him," he stroked Sam's shoulder. "But surely the two of you can take a few days off to reacquaint yourselves."
Sam bit down on his lollipop, teeth aching. "He insists people will die, and if we could have stopped it, and didn't, it may as well have been our fault."
Gabe almost let his jaw drop. His Grace actually trembled in something he was fairly sure was disbelief. Grace emotion wasn't as easy to decipher as humanity. "We saved hundreds of people this week, and managed to find thirteen hex bags circling the town so that people could leave again, and that doesn't deserve a break? And people say our morality is skewed." He dropped his head on the back of Sam's seat.
Dean slid into the front seat, the engine roaring to life and Black Sabbath spilling from the speakers. "Let''s blow this joint."
Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn't remember Dean being this exhausting, or this demanding. He was furious Sam wouldn't explain about the whole demon-killing ability he appeared to have spontaneously developed. He really didn't want to explain to his brother about visions and demon blood, or about the training he had undergone to get to the point of killing demons, the telekinesis and mind control that he had mastered first.
Dean stalked back into the room, slamming the door and falling face first onto his bed, phone falling from his limp hand. "You alright?" Sam felt compelled to ask, barely turning his head. Dean wasn't looking at him anyway.
Dean just groaned, and Sam wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Dad called." The words were spoken after several minutes of silence, muffled by the mouthful of bedding, jolting Sam from his light doze. He tensed. He and Dad had been butting heads over everything before the panic room incident, and he wasn't sure he was ready to see the other man just yet. He hoped Dean could at least allow that, although he was doubting it, the mood his older brother had been in since they'd left the small town.
A knock at the door woke Sam. He glanced at the alarm clock and began seriously contemplating homicide. It was four am. He glanced over at Dean, who looked back at him apologetically. "Sorry, Sammy." He flipped his phone to show a text from their Dad. "He must have tracked the phone."
Sam rose and stalked towards the door, scowl firmly in place. "Sam." John pushed past his younger son, barely acknowledging him. "Hey, Dean."
"Dad." Dean stayed seated, eyes darting nervously between his brother and father. Sam stood tensely by the still open door, shoulders tense.
The door closed, and Dean glanced back, his brother gone. Probably back to Gabe, he supposed bitterly. John didn't even react, turning his attention to Dean and demanding a report. Dean hesitated, staring at the light in his father's eyes. It was an expression he recognised, one he usually only got when talking about the bastard that killed his mother. That it was directed at his brother terrified Dean. He drew a deep, steadying breath. And lied.
Sam staggered, the ground uneven and shifting under his feet. He had no particularly destination in mind when he had snapped himself away. Just away.
He glanced around. It was daylight, midmorning if he didn't miss his guess. Sand, white and pristine, shifted under his feet, the ocean in front of him so blue as to be almost blinding. Sam stumbled as he stepped forward, sliding down the dune in a landslide of displaced sand. He walked to the water's edge, letting the waves lap at his bare feet, vaguely relieved he'd slept in his jeans and a shirt, and just breathed, noticing something odd but disregarding it as unimportant. Why was his family always so hard? He loved his brother, adored him. Sam knew, with startling clarity, that if he hadn't met Gabe when he did, he and Dean would have been frighteningly co-dependent, even worse than they had been. Even with Gabe, being away from Dean left a ragged, aching wound in his chest. And John. Well. He couldn't help but love his father. He had kept them safe, and taught them how to keep themselves alive, but he hadn't been the best of role models for either boy. So, he loved him, he just didn't like him very often.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" A hand grasped Sam's shoulder, directly over the mark Gabe had left so many years ago. "What are you, boy?"
Sam snapped, stumbling and retching when he reappeared, the demon still grasping onto his shoulder. He was going to be bruised, he knew. Apparently demons weren't meant to be passengers to trickster power. Good to know. Sam swiped a hand over his mouth, grimacing at the bile burning the back of his throat.
"Oh, a trickster, hm? My Master will be so pleased with me. He will find you amusing, I'm sure." Something cold slipped around his throat before he could steady himself enough to exorcise the thing. His mind was spinning out of control. Demons were collecting supernatural creatures? What the hell was going on?
The power he had become so used to cut to a trickle, something he could barely feel. Sam gasped, hands flying to his throat to grasp at the collar moulding to his skin. He turned, staggering and weak, to face the demon, revulsion and horror churning in his stomach. "What have you done?"
The demon grinned at him. "You look like you'd make a pretty pet for the General. He doesn't have a trickster." It shrugged. "So I'm collecting you. Personally, I'd find it far more pleasurable to kill you, but the Boss wants a menagerie, and who am I to deny him?" The demon leered at him and Sam shuddered. At least if he were captured, he could escape. Eventually. After getting this damned collar off.
How hadn't he picked up that the demon was there? Sam berated himself furiously. He'd been captured while wallowing in self-pity. Gabe had always insisted it was an unhealthy habit, and this was the most unhealthy situation he could recall being in. Now he was aware of it, the stink of sulphur was overwhelming, preventing him from catching anything else. What was wrong with him? How could he allow that level of distraction without back up nearby?
The demon grinned, exposing the even white teeth of its vessel. Sam's stomach lurched as the demon abandoned its vessel, wrapping itself around him, viscous and heavy. His skin crawled under the psychic weight of it.
Sam was being torn apart at a molecular level, cells shredding as pain tore through him like white hot knives. And then suddenly it was over.
Sam staggered when his feet hit the ground, nerve endings aching, as the demon shoved him forward. There were, he decided as the cage door closed with a decisive clang, distinct downsides to being classifiable as a supernatural creature. The ability for demons to touch and interact with him in their smoke forms was a major one. Maybe even more than hunters, most of who saw anything not-completely human as something murderous and monstrous as beings that killed regularly, like werewolves or vampires.
He focussed his throbbing eyes to study the lock. The symbols engraved on the lock and bars were vaguely familiar.
"No use, kid." He turned to the cage on his right. The vampire was gaunt, teeth descended. "They're customised. You won't be able to even touch them." The vamp bared his teeth. "They find it funny to push us into them."
Sam nodded, still examining the symbols, recognition tickling at the edges of his consciousness. "It's a corrupted form of Enochian." The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. Of course demons would have that as a language. It was convenient, actually. He read Enochian, and spoke a bastardised version of it. Nothing like the angels obviously, with their shrieking true voices. The words were clear when he looked again. Clear and unpleasant. Binding runes and pain runes, entrapment and fire, all tied in to the trickster rune. It was nauseating. But he should be human enough to touch it.
He reached out a hand carefully. Theoretically, this shouldn't be debilitating. Just agonising. He should, hopefully, still be conscious and functional by the end of it. If he was still human enough. They only lasted a limited time, after all, before needing to recharge.
His fingers wrapped around the bar. Heat and pain tore through him, tearing at his nerves. His blood was boiling in his veins, skin melting, sloughing off. He pressed his brow to his wrist – and when had he gotten to his knees? – gritting his teeth and riding out the pain like Gabe had taught him. Blood filled his mouth. Apparently, he had bitten through his tongue. Eventually, the pain receded, leaving him gasping and light-headed, but well enough to think. He could feel the vampire staring at him, the back of his head tingling with the awareness.
He couldn't pick the lock. After all that pain, and he couldn't push his arm through the narrow space between bars far enough to manoeuvre the picks the way he needed to. Cursing softly, he withdrew his arm, securing the pick in the seam of his shirt. He swayed at the drain on his power, vision shifting and fading. It had taken a mammoth effort to draw the will to do something he didn't usually need to think about. He shuddered. He'd never realised how much he'd come to rely on the borrowed abilities flowing through him, courtesy of Gabe.
Scanning the bars again, he was relieved he hadn't tried to use his own power. The power feedback loop was a nasty piece of work. If drawing the power hadn't made him pass out, which was an unlikely scenario at this point, the feedback loop would have used his own strength to power the runes, and the chance of him surviving that would be slim.
"Damn, kid." Sam turned his eyes to the vamp. "How are you still conscious?"
Sam grinned and rose to his feet, swaying only a little, and inordinately grateful the cage extended to the roof, so he didn't have to spend the entirety of the time he was trapped here sitting or stooped uncomfortably. "I'm just that good." He offered the vamp an easy smile. He had nowhere near the animosity his family did towards supernatural beings, especially if they could be of assistance to him. He sometimes wondered what he would have been like without Gabe's influence. For a bloodsucker, Sam noticed absently, the same way he noticed the sin smudge on everyone, he was pretty clean. Less dirt than most people he tricked. "I'm Sam," he offered.
The vamp looked startled. "Matthias." He was swaying on his feet, slurring around him teeth.
"When was the last time you fed, Matt?"
He scowled, teeth lengthening desperately at the word. "The bastards won't let me feed unless I kill them." At Sam's raised eyebrow, he continued. "That's not how I do, man." He spread his hands, entreating. "That's not what my nest does. We bonded together because most of us were turned against our will. We feed a little off a lot of people, and leave them with a feeling like they've just had mind blowing sex." He shrugged, sinking to the floor as his legs seemed to simply give out under him. "We don't want to be monsters. Holding onto your humanity is hard. But it's totally worth it."
"Don't I know it." Sam muttered, coming to a decision. He pushed up his sleeve, drawing the small knife from his boot and drawing it neatly over his wrist. Matt's head snapped up at the metallic scent of blood, eyes wide and dark.
"What are you doing?" His voice rasped, saliva filling his mouth. His gums ached. Sam extended his wrist, careful not to touch the bars, just in case they'd powered back up already. Matt whimpered piteously, reaching out, thin fingers grasping delicately at Sam's wrist. His head lowered, lapping gently at the cut, tongue rasping over the soft skin of Sam's inner wrist.
Every pass of his tongue encouraged the blood flow. Pleasure swirled through Sam, slow and heady. He swallowed a groan, fingers of his free hand digging into his own thigh. He pressed against the cold concrete floor as it pooled in his stomach. If this is how it felt, Sam had no idea why vampires had to attack people. Surely there'd be people willing to combine feeding and sex occasionally for them.
After only a couple of minutes, Matt lifted is head, second layer of teeth retracting as he slumped bonelessly to the floor, mouth and teeth stained with his blood. "Thank you." It was a fervently whispered prayer. He licked at his teeth and lips as Sam bound his own wrist with a strip of material torn from his shirt. "Your blood is amazing." Sam grinned as he tied off the makeshift bandage, not particularly worried. He knew he'd stop bleeding within a minute, even with the anticoagulants he knew was in vampire saliva.
"Oh, how sweet." A new voice rasped from behind Sam. Matthias froze, eyes wide and terrified. Sam shifted, lifting his head and staring at the demon in the centre, flanked by two brawny male vessels. Yellow eyes glowed in the low light, mocking Sam, making him wish he was free. Azazel.