This is a shorter chapter again. Apologies for the delay, writer's block struck and I spend days staring at paper in vague confusion. Thanks to all those that read, followed, favourited and reviewed. Now, here's the tiny chapter

~~SPN~~

Matthias crouched in the centre of his cage, head buried between his knees. He could still hear Sam screaming and begging. And who was 'Gabe'? His fists clenched. Sam was not going to last, and the fool boy refused to admit it. This had been happening for nearly two weeks, and whoever the boy thought was going to rescue him clearly wasn't coming.

Whatever this demon was doing to Sam was breaking him. Matthias was not used to caring about individual humans, and it was a novel experience, although one he could have done without experiencing in this way. For over a hundred years, he had been disconnected from the concept of humanity, and from the potential of his own.

Lenora had reminded him what it was to truly be alive, or as alive as a vampire could be, in any matter. He was grateful, however much it hurt. Sam needed someone to ground him, to stop him losing himself completely. There was the added benefit that keeping Sam as together as he could manage spat in the eye of that monster, and the little human he kept as a pet, and that was something he was willing to put himself into completely.

A body appeared in front of the cage, wild-eyed and frantic. Dark blond hair was rumpled, hanging in front of eyes the colour of fine whiskey. "Sammy?" He finally faced the cages and his whole body froze, before he bared his teeth in obvious rage. Matthias was relieved he felt no need to breath, for even he felt the rage the male was emanating. For the first time since he escaped the monster that turned him, he felt genuine fear shiver over him.

"Sam is in the hall." He offered timidly. He didn't want the attention of this furious force on him, especially considering that he could not recognise what manner of creature it was. His gums ached, teeth wanting to descend, warn off the threat. He did not think it would be particularly effective. In fact, it may just rile the creature further.

The male turned his attention to Matthias, and Matthias felt the weight of it, like the shackles he was forced into for Azazel's entertainment. "Who are you?" His voice rumbled like thunder and earthquakes.

Matthias gestured to the cage bars. "I am Matthias. I am a guest of Azazel." His lips curled on the words, teeth sliding free of his gums without conscious consent. The male examined the markings and began to curse fluently in a language Matthias did not recognise.

"I am Loki." He offered once he had himself under control. His eyes sparkled like the entire situation was a game, albeit one that he planned to win most convincingly. His eyes narrowed slightly. "There are forty demons in this warehouse." His eyes met Matthias. "Will you fight, if offered?"

"I owe a debt to Sam." Matthias offered frankly as he met gold eyes. "If I am to arrive in Purgatory, I will go gladly today, tearing them apart."

Loki grinned, an expression shockingly light for the situation. The bars were pulled apart with an ease no creature Matthias knew of could manage. Loki was allegedly the Trickster. Matthias had his doubts, although he didn't know how to express them to Sam, who seemed to view this being with the closest thing to true reverence Matthias had seen in more years than he cared to consider.

As Matthias stepped out, Loki offered his already bleeding wrist. His blood tasted of light and bubbles and lava on his tongue. It was overwhelming. "One could develop an addiction." He commented, keeping his voice even as he met Loki's eyes. By the sudden fear in his eyes, Matthias was sure he had understood. "But let us find Sam first." He flashed a grin as he headed towards Sam's voice.

Loki drew a silver blade from inside his jacket, lips curling in a rather off-putting smile. "Let's." He dropped in half a step behind, a confident swagger to his walk, the blade hanging easily at his side.

Matthias stepped out first, the short Trickster hidden in the shadow of his body.

Azazel turned at the uncertain shuffle from his demons. "Vampire. How did you get out?" He stalked forward several steps, leaving Sam unguarded except for the brunette girl always at his side like a particularly obedient dog.

"Oh," Loki stepped out casually, a smug smile plastered on his face. "That would have been me." He spun the blade at his side. "Hey Sammy."

Sam lifted his head, hair stuck to his forehead, blood dripping from more wounds than he cared to consider. It ran freely down his body, soaking through the remains of his clothing.

"No," Sam moaned, head dropping forwards again to hang heavily between his shoulders. "Please. Don't. I'm sorry." His breathing was harsh and ragged, voice hoarse. "P-Please." Loki had frozen t the first whimper. He seemed to suddenly snap out of it, a snarl slipping from his lips. Matthias kept his eyes on Sam. "Not this again. Please."

"You should not have hurt my Sam." Loki managed to grit out, before exploding into motion.

Sam was in so much pain he could no longer differentiate between them anymore. The demon blood burned. He knew that. His veins and arteries, his bones, everything burned. His brain rattled in his skull, thoughts torn from his mind before he can grasp them.

The new pain stopped, leaving old pain crossed over older pain and phantom pain. His left hand twitched. Ava leaned in, too close. Sam's breath caught in panic. "That's right, Sammy. Cry for me." Her lips brushed his cheek with every word. Her tongue lapped at the blood on his cheek. "You're going to stay with me, aren't you, Sammy?" She was panting. "Not like all those others. They were weak, and they left me." Her hands settled on Sam's bare chest, nails digging into the open wounds, fresh blood spilling out past her fingers, coating her hands and freshening it on his skin. "You're not weak, are you Sammy?"

"Get away from him, you tainted, sadistic bitch." Sam was sure he should know that voice. It hurt to hear it, worse than the physical pain. He had betrayed them so badly. Ava was wrong. He was weak, and he deserved whatever she did to him. Why were they taunting him? He didn't deserve them. Sam's breath caught on a sob. Ava screeched in pain before falling silent for the first time in hours. Ava liked to talk as she tortured.

"Oh, Sammy." The voice spoke again, closer and softer. Sam cringed. He could feel them reaching out for him. "C'mon, kiddo." The shackles were released, the infected skin on his wrist tearing with it and making him whimper in pain. They burned, too. His knees buckled as he swayed, struggling to remain conscious. It was safer to be conscious. The pain was different when he wasn't there for it.

Gentle hands caught him, an arm wrapping around him, supporting him. Sam kept his eyes clenched shut. If it was a hallucination, he didn't want to know. He wanted to cling to it for as long as he could, because he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to last. "What have they done to you, my Sam?"

A low voice spoke, and the delusion responded. His delusion had more than one person. Sam almost opened his eyes in his startlement. He kept them closed at the last minute, not wanting to see Azazel and Ava smirking at him because she'd pushed the image into his head. It wasn't something Sam had considered as an ability, but it was exceptionally effective.

Sam was struggling to focus past the roaring in his ears that was getting alarmingly loud. That was a support for the Ava theory. He thought he heard someone yelling his name before he lost consciousness.

~~SPN~~

Gabe stared at the wreck of a body that was meant to be his Sam. Even his soul, usually so bright, so vibrant and shining, was dulled, the edges of it ragged. Shadows flickered over it, the demonic taint strengthened by the blood Azazel had forced into him. It looked like a soul that had been to Hell.

He settled lightly onto the eddge of the bed, smoothing a gentle hand over Sam's shockingly short hair. Matthias had been forced to cut it off, since Sam was being forced to recover the human way. The runes that demonic bastard had carved into Sam's skin resisted all attempts of Gabe's at healing, regardless of which way it was done. The fact that demons had angel repelling wards, even if only minor ones was a serious cause for concern. Gabe was contemplating temporarily returning to Heaven to speak to his brethren, to warn them. Whatever madness was planned, this was far above the scope of any Apocalypse Gabe had seen planned.

He glanced again at Sam, who slept like the dead. Only the tiny rise and fall of his chest, and the dulled glow of his soul reassured Gabriel that he was even alive. He should have woken by now. Unless the trauma was too great for his mind to heal from, he should have woken. Loki felt true terror at the thought of Sam Winchester being gone, just another soul in a Heaven. Even the demon blood, or sudden lack, should have stirred him. The prevention of healing also stopped him from cleansing Sam completely of the blood. The taint was almost gone, but it would take time, and there was always a chance Sam would be damaged by it.

Anger stirred in his Grace at the thought of what Azazel had done, what he had risked, forcing Sam. Violating Sam. The demon had best hope Gabe wasn't the one who finally caught up to him, for it wasn't going to be pleasant. The bastard would think he was back on the rack in Hell by the time Gabe was done.

He reigned in his temper, calming himself with several deep breaths, an exercise he had picked up from humans that was helpful in stilling his Grace.

Once calm, Gabe expanded his Grace, cocooning Sam within his own being, wrapping his soul in the safety and light of angelic purity. Gabe was tainted, always on the edge of falling, but never close enough to not be able to pull himself back from the edge. He had been pulling back from it since he had found Sam, too intent on the boy and his destiny – thwarting his destiny – he almost hadn't had time to darken his Grace further.

Sam shifted, rolling onto his side, facing towards Gabe. It was the first time he had moved under his own power since he lost consciousness and it made something tight and uncomfortable in Gabe's chest loosen in relief. Sam's soul pulsed with Gabe's Grace and he reached for it. Sam's soul stretched and reached back. Gabe gaped at the sensation, slumping against the headboard, face pressed into the wall to muffle his groan. He wanted Sam to do that again, whatever that was, conscious.

Sam shifted and groaned, his soul pulling back into his skin, shuffling closer to Gabe. He exhaled heavily, not certain if he was relieved or disappointed the feeling was gone.

"Gabe?" Sam seemed puzzled. "What-?" He cleared his throat, wincing. His throat was raw, torn, from screaming and the abrasiveness of the blood forced down his throat. "What's going on?"

Gabe hesitated, fiddling with the water glass and helping Sam take several sips. "Not too fast," he murmured in gentle rebuke, drawing the glass away. "What do you remember, kiddo?" He didn't want to make it worse by dumping everything that had happened on his Sam at once. His fingers stoked lightly up and down Sam's back, and he didn't look too closely at who the motion was meant to be soothing.

Sam shuddered, a fine tremor making his whole body shake minutely. "I remember Azazel and Ava." He choked to a stop, tears slipping from the corner of his eyes. "They fed me demon blood, Gabe." He gasped, tears still silent. Gabe loathed that Sam had already learnt to cry so silently by the time they had first met, although the fact that Sam cried at all now was reassuring. He had been emotionally stilted for years until they'd left the Winchesters.

It took Sam nearly a minute to speak again. "I'm tainted, Gabe. You shouldn't be near me." He gasped. "By the end, I needed it."

"Oh, kiddo, no," Gabe murmured, stroking a hand over Sam's hair. For all his talk of tainted, he still instinctively nuzzled into the offered affection. "You're not tainted. Demon blood is dangerously addictive to humans. You're not tainted. You're mine." Gabe sighed, he kew Sam wasn't going to completely believe him, regardless of how convinced Gabe himself was. It was just Sam, to burden himself when he didn't need to. He was getting better, but Sam still had a tendency toward martyrdom and self-flagellation. It seemed to have been built into both Winchester sons.

Sam's head pressed more firmly against his hand. "Why is it gone?" His tone was plaintive, and he sounded very young. "Is this another trick?"

Gabe lost his internal battle, shifting so that he was wrapped around Sam in a hug. "You're safe, Samsquatch." He inhaled the clean, earthy scent of Sam and relaxed. It may be hidden under the sulphuric burn of the demon blood remaining in his body, but it was there, and becoming more prominent as he waited. Sam was here, he was healing. Gabe could deal with anything, as long as that was true. "You don't have to believe it yet. Sleep for now, my Sam, and I'll keep your dreams easy until your body heals." Sam was asleep again before he'd finished speaking. Gabe lay on the bed, silent and watchful as Sam slept.

Sam woke, more comfortable than he could remember being in weeks, and almost completely pain free. There was a burn in his throat, and there were several familiarly itchy point on his skin that indicated healing stitches.

But there was a warmth pressed into his side, a heavy, reassuring weight that had been missing, although he didn't think he'd actually experienced it before this, either.

He cracked open his lids carefully.. The light had turned the inside of his eyelids red, and he had a feeling he wasn't used to light as bright as this was going to be.

He winced as the sun assaulted his painfully sensitive eyes. He stretched subtly, puzzled. This wasn't like Ava's mind tricks. She never managed to get the light bright enough, she had been with Azazel in his attempt at recreating Hell on earth, and had forgotten how bright the sun could truly be. She never managed the weight of others either, no demons were willing to touch her, even most of them thought she was a little mad, and a lot frightening.

Maybe he was out? He strained to remember, and pain tore through his head, making him slump back into the pillows, groaning quietly. Even that amount of noise hurt his aching throat.

The scent of the bed was irritatingly familiar, the buzz of a mosquito just out of sight. The fingers lightly brushing at his temples were also familiar. "Sammy?" The voice was soft and soothing, tone familiar and concerned. That was wrong. That voice should never be concerned, especially not about something like him.

He tried opening his eyes again, cracking them open the smallest amount he could manage. Even that caused him to groan, the brightness making his eyes tear. Gold eyes met his, warm and reassuring and concerned. "Gabe?" The eyes filled with tears and Sam panicked. Gabe wasn't supposed to cry, that wasn't allowed. Especially not over him. Gabe was never allowed to cry over him. He struggled to force himself to move, to reach for the suddenly sobbing Trickster. "Gabe?" His voice was high, panic spiking.

Arms wrapped around him and he was arranged until he was tucked against Gabe's chest. "Sammy." Gabe was rocking slightly and his voice wavered. His hands touched every part of Sam the shorter being could reach. "I couldn't find you, my Sam. I promised you, and you were suddenly just gone, and all I could tell was that it had been a demon."

Sam ignored his screaming muscle, forcing his arms to lift until he could grasp the sides of Gabe's face. "No," he insisted fiercely, hoarsely. "You do not get to blame yourself for this, Gabriel." Gabe's fingers still moved, one trailing up and down his back, making him shiver, the other toying absently with his hair. "You couldn't predict what was going to happen."

Gabe snorted. "I could have predicted John," he muttered.

Sam lifted his head from where it was slumped against his own raised forearm to glare at him half-heartedly. "Not the point, Gabe." He insisted, tightening his grip on Gabe's face. They both knew it was nothing more than a gesture. On his best day, Sam had no chance of physically overpowering or restraining Gabriel. But the gesture mattered to Sam, so Gabe responded to it, allowing Sam to hold him in place.

Sam ignored the muttered 'then what is?' "There was no way you were going to be able to foresee that a demon was going to somehow be able to attach itself to me while I was jumping. You couldn't predict that it was going to be able to retrain me like that and drag me to Azazel's monster zoo." His eyes widened at the realisation. Matthias. He was a terrible friend. But Gabe came first. Gabe always came first, and Sam didn't' know when that had happened, but it was now an incontrovertible fact of his life.

He pressed his forehead against Gabe. "It was not your fault." It was his. Not that he was stupid enough to tell Gabe that.

Gabe sighed, breath fluttering over Sam's lips. And, as always, he seemed to read Sam's mmind, because he spoke softly, a thread of steel to his words. "Then it was not yours, either, Sam." He frowned at the mutinous expression that immediately overtook Sam's features. "No, Sam. I know you. You're going to somehow twist this until it's all laid at your feet. But it's not." He didn't even know how Sam managed it sometimes. It defied logic, but he always had a sequential reasoning chain that even almost sounded valid until he actually thought about it. He met Sam's eyes, and gold hardened. "It's Azazel's. This whole thing was Azazel's fault." Fingers tightened in Sam's hair. "Remember that, my Sam."

"But if I hadn't stormed off-"

Fingers snapped by his ear, and Sam felt his vocal cords sieze. He'd forgotten how unpleasant that feeling was. "No. Dammit Sam. Listen to me." Sam listened. An archangel damning something was more significant that anyone else saying the words. The archangels held power in it, and Gabe very deliberately never used the words. He may not have returned to Heaven, but he was still an archangel, after all. "In no way are you at fault or to blame." His eyes were locked with Sam and Sam couldn't look away. "Fuck whatever anyone else says. You are mine, and if I cannot blame myself, then neither can you." His voice rang with conviction and Sam felt himself relaxing, sinking bonelessly against Gabe. Ava couldn't fake this, and if Gabe said it was alright, it had to be. Gabe wouldn't lie to him. His hands settled on the angel's chest as his breathing deepened.

Gabe shifted, squashing the slight surge of guilt that rose for manipulating Sam's emotions like that, however necessary it had been.