Rick Astley died with a crackle, a pop, and a sigh of relief from everyone in the room. Well everyone, that is, with the exception of Sam who was slightly too busy gawping at Gabriel to take notice. Bobby's dancing feet slowed to a sway and then, finally, to a stop.
"Take a picture Sasquatch, it'll last longer." Quipped Gabriel with an exaggerated wink in Sam's direction. Shuddering slightly, Sam turned to his brother.
"There's a dead archangel in Bobby's kitchen but you don't seem surprised." He said accusingly. Gabriel let out a low whistle.
"Wow, should I be offended ? You're hiding me from your family, doesn't that show a bad relationship?" Profanity running through Dean's mind like sailor hurdles at the Olympics, he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as Sam stared.
"Bite me Gabriel." He winced at the ammunition he had given the innuendo-filled angel but Gabriel chose to ignore the set up. Dean couldn't decide whether that was positive growth or really fucking worrying.
"So, big boy, how's your noggin?" Gabriel asked, sidling much too close to Sam for Dean's liking. Sam brushed his shiny scalp, stepping away with an irritated glare in Dean's direction.
"You mean aside from the fact I look like Patrick Stewart?" In spite of himself, Dean snorted.
"Like you could ever look that good." He muttered.
"Oh, yeah. I forget about these things." Gabriel pondered Sam's head and snapped his fingers. Like sped up footage of growing plants, hair began to sprout bizarrely from Sam's head and grow to lengths that were entirely unnecessary in Dean's opinion. Sighing deeply, Sam combed through his growing tresses, bliss colouring his features.
"Should we give you some time alone?" Bobby interrupted, breaking Sam from his beautiful reunion. His hands snapped to his sides instantly.
"No…I just, okay. Why'd you do it anyway?" Sam asked Gabriel, newly returned hair falling over his forehead. Tired eyes battled for dominance against his usual wide grin on Gabriel's pale face.
"Do what? Return from the dead? Give you a haircut?"
"Both I guess."
"Well you got me Sasquatch, I returned from the dead specifically to give you a haircut. And to make Bobby loosen up a little and learn to have fun." Bobby returned his smile with a scowl of hatred. Dean, meanwhile, fidgeted nervously. Gabriel was getting a little too close to truths that couldn't come out right now and he needed to shut this shit down before Sam had a brain meltdown or something.
"What about me then? What's with the gaydar?" Gabriel gasped in mock innocence.
"I didn't do anything to you, Dean. Must just be your natural aura." Dean held his breath and counted to ten. Gabriel simply grinned and continued. "Fine, you seemed lonely after your unfortunate break up so I helped. Not my fault you didn't go for it." Dean's gut twisted as if someone had wedged a large screwdriver into his intestines for fun.
"Don't talk about that." He snapped, fighting back uncomfortable memories that so desperately struggled against his lockdown. Lisa's furious face registered in his consciousness for a fraction of a second before he wrestled the memory back to its labelled drawer. He could deal with that later, he thought to himself. Dick angels first, unpleasant feelings later.
"Cut the crap man, why are you actually doing this. I thought you wanted to be dead? I was cool with that." Dean kept his glare firmly focused on Gabriel, avoiding his brother like the proverbial plague. He didn't need to see whatever look Sam was giving him, it was bound to be fifty shades of unpleasant and he already knew he owed his brother an explanation.
"Well, turns out heaven isn't that fun at the moment so I thought I'd come down here and have a little fun." He gave Dean an exaggerated wink but his face turned to a waxy pallor as he spoke and he scrambled to grab the counter for support.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, stepping forwards warily as if expecting him to fall. Gabriel stretched a fake smile across his face, holding it even as his eyes faded. Dean had to admire the man's dedication, although he had to admit it worried him a little.
"I'm golden." Gabriel snapped, pushing himself back into standing position. "Grubby paws off." He added, swatting Sam's cautious offer of support away. Sam looked mortified, shuffling away from him like a dejected puppy.
"So fun involves…?" Dean asked, attempting to steer the conversation back toward normality before an archangel passed out in Bobby's kitchen. That would be just typical.
"Messing with my favourite boy toys of course. Cassie wants me out of his tousled sex hair so I'm having fun on Earth."
"There's nothing better to do on Earth than to mess with us?" Bobby interjected, scowling deeply. Gabriel looked deep in thought for a moment, twirling a cherry red lollipop as he contemplated Bobby.
"Nope." He replied, sticking the candy back in his mouth. With a flutter of wings, Gabriel was gone.
"You still owe me whiskey." Bobby muttered darkly into the empty air.
The sticky, artificial scent of cheap candy hung in the stale air like city smog, concealing the usual smell of old books, whiskey and gun smoke that Sam so desperately craved. His sensed clamoured around the kitchen for stimuli, be it sights or sounds or smells, to keep him grounded. That was his job, his one aim at all times. If he drifted, even for a second, then he became victim of his own sadistic mind. The enticing tendrils of masochistic melancholy beckoned, it would be so easy to give and allow himself the luxury of falling apart. But Sam never would, he could never do that to Dean. Of course, with Dean lying to him constantly, finding reasons to hold on was becoming more and more difficult.
"Enough lies, tell me what's going on now." Sam demanded, appraising the two men standing before him. Bobby looked pointedly at Dean who seemed as if he were attempting to avoid both their gazes. After a long while, Dean finally looked up and shrugged.
"Not much to tell, Cas found out that his dead brother wasn't as dead as we thought he was. You were…away." Was Sam truly so delicate that they couldn't even mention hell by name around him? It wasn't Beetlejuice or Candyman, saying the name didn't mean Sam would be spirited away to the cage; he had no illusions as to where he spent his summer vacation. He continued his questioning, his voice softer, as if to prevent Gabriel from overhearing if he was listening.
"So why not tell me? And why does he look like he's going to faint every time he moves?"
"Well it seemed like small fish to fry in the face of everything really. We should have told you sooner." Dean explained, his eyes wide and earnest. Exactly the same innocent look he used to adopt when Bobby caught him playing on the roof. "As for the other thing, I've got no clue. His business I suppose." Sam nodded curtly; it wasn't in Dean's nature to ask searching questions unless it was required of him. Even then, he'd still complain about it the whole time.
"So was all your booze screwed or do you have any beer?" Sam rolled his eyes as Dean began his quest for untainted alcohol. Was it too much to ask for that Gabriel had put laxatives in all the beer? Sam struggled to hold back his yawns, his eyes watering from the strain. He hadn't slept in about 21 hours which, in all honesty was standard Winchester fare. However, the little spots of sleep Sam had been catching here and there had done nothing to rest his body. If anything, he awoke more drained than before like some fucked up never ending cycle. He yawned deeply. Well, maybe a long sleep would help. He bid goodnight to Bobby and Dean, the latter of whom looked at him with considerable concern before replying, and drearily traipsed up the stairs to the small bedroom Bobby kept made up for them. Tiptoeing over the piles of books and assorted occult paraphernalia, Sam made his way to the wooden bed he had long since outgrown; however, he was prevented from flopping onto it by the sudden appearance of a short man sitting cross legged on his bed.
"Now's not the time Gabriel." Sam groaned, a yawn escaping him as he spoke. Gabriel cocked his head.
"Awwwwww is the little pork chop all tuckered out?" He mocked in a sickly sweet voice. Sam preoccupied himself with carefully clearing several old scrolls off the end of the bed.
"I'm being serious, I've had a long day and I'm tired. So scoot, asshat." Gabriel feigned offense but moved to sit on the pillow so Sam could sit down. His head lolled back on the wall and he let his eyelids droop, waiting for the whirl of wings that signifies angelic disappearances. Instead, Gabriel started humming an incomprehensible tune and tapping his foot presumably in time. Sam opened one eye to survey the nuisance on his bed. Gabriel's earlier pallor was much improved and his skin had taken on the tea-stained tint of old parchments but Sam just couldn't stop noticing the differences from the wily trickster they had first encountered. He remembered being thoroughly taken aback by the brightness of Gabriel's amber eyes which always sparkled with such mischief and power that, in all honesty, they scared him a little. Now, they'd dulled considerably, the spark had extinguished and turned to smoke. They were eyes that had seen some shit. Sam knew the look; he saw it every day in the mirror.
"Why are you here?" He asked. Gabriel stopped humming but didn't look at him.
"To check on you." He replied.
"Why?" Gabriel finally turned to look at him incredulously.
"Oh I don't know, maybe because my brothers went all Guantanamo on your ass?" Well, it rang a bell.
"Yeah, but Death pulled me out of the cage. I don't see why you're interested." Gabriel's brow furrowed as he considered Sam.
"Death pulled you out?" He asked quietly.
"I know; Dean did something stupid again to save my life. But apart from the memories, I'm fine. I think we actually got away with this one." He smiled in spite of himself. Dean using the apocalypse and Death's ring as leverage left them contract-free; for once, the only negatives of Sam's resurrection were his own. Gabriel's puzzled look cleared and he smiled.
"I didn't know Death pulled you out, good for you!" He punched Sam's arm with all the force of a feather pillow. "Dean must have pulled some big favours!" It suddenly occurred to Sam that he was entirely unarmed and alone in a small room with a powerful creature with a deadly sense of humour. And yet, he felt completely relaxed. His hunter's instinct must be fading.
"But that doesn't answer my question, why are you here?" Sam asked again. Gabriel shrugged.
"You kinda saved us all when you threw yourself into the belly of hell. It was my family's crap and you fixed it. Least I could do is check if you're alright." Gabriel glanced down as he spoke, fumbling with the pillowcase. Sam felt genuinely touched by his concern, something he rarely received outside of his family and Bobby.
"Thank you." He said softly. Gabriel looked at him for a moment and then, with the manner of a man coming out a trance, jumped quickly off the bed.
"So are you?" He asked. "Alright, I mean?" Sam nodded at first. But what was the point in lying to him? He shook his head.
"No…the memories are coming back. More every night. I can't….go to sleep because then they'll come." His confession was barely audible, like he didn't want Gabriel to hear him.
"I'm sorry, Sam." Gabriel replied simply. Sam tried not to be too surprised at the use of his actual name in the place of some crap nickname.
"What for?"
"I'm just…sorry." Sam made to lie down and waited for Gabriel to leave. "I can stop the nightmares for tonight, if you want?" After Sam nodded his consent, he reached forwards and softly brushed his fingertips against his forehead. Instantly, Sam's vision began to blur around the edges. The last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness was Gabriel wincing in pain and stumbling backwards.
"You'll never believe this." Bobby said, throwing a paper into Dean's lap. He unfurled it and studied the cover.
"Young couple in tragic plane crash." Dead read aloud. "I don't understand, this doesn't exactly strike me as X files."
"Pilot's body was found seventeen miles away, flambéed. Girl's just gone, no body or nothing. Couple of other girls have disappeared recently too." Dean threw the paper aside.
"Alright, I'll go check it out." Dean said, climbing out of the armchair and going to grab his jacket. Bobby raised his eyebrows.
"What about Sam?" Dean glanced at the ceiling.
"Let him sleep, he's been through enough." Dean replied, brushing past Bobby on his way to the door.
"He ain't gonna be happy when he wakes up." Bobby called after him.
"Oh I know." Dean muttered to himself. Hopefully, he'd be three states over by then.
Dean paced around the light and airy apartment, peering into nooks and crannies for any sign of weird. It was all thoroughly stomach-churningly cute, not a speck of the occult to be found.
"So, Miss Dessertine, I'd just like to ask you a couple of questions about your sister" He turned to address the girl stood timidly in the doorway.
"Will it take long? The cops already came by and I'm tired." Silently wishing that Sam was here to pull his usual good cop routine, Dean mustered up his most sympathetic smile.
"I'll be quick. So what was Penny like?" He asked.
"She was very shy, kept to herself mostly. She wasn't exactly adventurous."
"So why would she go up in a two seater in a lightning storm?" The girl brushed her hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, looking slightly more hostile.
"She hated that thing. She only went up for Stan."
"Who's Stan?" Who was Stan would be a more accurate question if the roasted body was anything to go by.
"Her boyfriend, they were just starting to get serious. She never should have done it; I should have told her to stay home, told her it wasn't worth it. We don't even have a body to bury." Her eyes glazed over and she pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing slowly. Dean was at a loss in knowing how to comfort her, so he offered a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"We'll find her." He promised solemnly.
Dean tossed his card onto the motel desk, smiling at the burly and heavily tattooed man behind it as he tapped Dean's details into the system. Checking his phone briefly, Dean's stomach flipped as he noticed a total of 7 missed calls from Sam and 2 from Bobby.
"Oh god, I'm dead." He muttered to himself.
"What's that, buddy?" Mr mullet-beard combo asked him.
"Nothing." He replied, beaming at him until he looked away. Dean's phone began to vibrate in his hand and a nervous glance revealed Bobby's name on the caller ID. Taking his room key, Dean made his way to his room slowly, holding the buzzing phone at arms-length. The moment the door closed behind him, he flipped the phone open and answered.
"How's Sam?"
"Sam is furious, thanks for asking." Sam's irate voice answered. All thoughts in Dean's mind flew away like startled birds and left him with a long line of static. "Dean? Are you still there?" Dean gulped and answered.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Where is that exactly?" Dean hummed for a while. He couldn't deny that having Sam would greatly help with the case, particularly when it came to research, but their bad time on the road was an ever present stain of doubt on Dean's mind.
"How did you sleep?"
"Well but don't change the subject. I know you're on a hunt but Bobby won't tell me where, he's cleared off somewhere." Dean sighed deeply, cursing his determined brother with eternal baldness.
"Portland, cute little spot called 'Roadside Roy's', room 32."
"I'll be there soon." Dean snapped the phone shut with frustration. Still, at least it was good to hunt with sympathetic Sam again rather than Megatron. While Sam was coming, he might as well research the other two disappearances. He flopped onto the bed, pulling Sam's laptop toward him. He was probably dead in more ways than one when Sam realised it was missing.
Sam pulled into the motel parking lot with ease, parking next to the Impala which was one of only 3 cars present; must be a popular place. He rapped on the door labelled '32' and waited for his brother to answer so he could punch him in his smug overprotective face. The door opened very slightly and Dean's eye peered through the gap.
"Are you going to hit me?" He asked, using the door as protection. Sam pushed his way into the room wordlessly. Dean closed the door and turned to face him, wearing his fed suit and looking very wary, as if waiting for Sam to yell at him.
"No, I'm not. I understand why you did it. But that doesn't mean I'm not pissed as hell. I'm not made of glass Dean, I realise how fucked up I am but I'm not ill! This isn't going to get better. The way I'm feeling, I think it's going to get worse. So stop treating me like I'm 5 and just let me deal with it." After a long moment of silence, Dean nodded.
"Okay, I get it. But you need to be more honest with how you're feeling. Don't say you're fine when I can hear you yelling in your sleep." Sam was taken aback slightly by the hypocrisy of the request, considering how Dean had blatantly lied about remembering hell for going on 6 months. But Dean probably knew from experience how well bottling it up panned out, so Sam nodded and turned away.
"So there's my laptop." He observed and heard Dean splutter behind him. Settling on the only bed, he took his laptop and perused the open pages. "Are these the missing girls?"
"Yep." Dean answered, walking over to point out aspects of the church group page. "These two were members of pretty much every church group you can think of. Bake sales, promise ring groups, Sunday school volunteers, church choir…if it's in the name of Jesus, they did it."
"Someone's targeting members of the same church?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.
"Nope, third girl wasn't even Christian. But I have another theory- Penny's diary." He brandished a bright pink notebook in front of Sam's face.
"Did you steal that from her room?" Dean made a face at Sam and began to read in a husky tone. "I've decided I'm going to give Stan my most precious gift." Sam shuddered.
"That sounded super creepy coming from your mouth. So, all these girls were virgins?" Dean snapped the diary shut and discarded it.
"That's what I figure." Sam turned back to his laptop and searched for occult links to virgins.
"So who'd go after virgins? Witches or pagan gods maybe?" He asked; Dean shrugged in response.
"Beats me, I prefer ladies with experience." A loud guitar riff sounded through the room as Dean grabbed his phone. He listened for a while before speaking.
"Alright, I'll be there soon." He flipped the phone shut and grabbed his suit jacket.
"Put your fed suit on and grab your badge, a girl's been attacked in a church parking lot."
Sunlight filtered through the hospital windows, glaring in Sam's eyes as he fumbled with a small notebook in his hand. A small girl lay in the hospital bed, looking thoroughly shaken as she reverently recounted her experience to Dean.
"I swear, it was like a giant bat! All I saw were these huge wings and….you think I'm making this up, right? That's what the cops said."
"Well, we're not the cops." Sam said softly, stepping closer to her.
"It came right at me, that's how I got these!" She pulled her hospital gown forward, showing three long jagged gashes across her back and shoulders, the surrounding skin coloured with red and blue splotches. The closest Sam had seen were werewolf scratches, but they were never this large.
"So it attacked? And then what happened?" Sam asked as she settled back on the bed.
"I don't know, everything went dark and I must have passed out. When I woke up, it was gone." Large bat creatures and missing virgins? Dean looked just as confused as Sam felt.
"Is there anything else you can think of?" Sam asked, desperately hoping for further clues. "Even if it doesn't seem important?" She looked deep in thought for a while before answering.
"Well, my ring is gone. It could have fallen off but I didn't see it anywhere, that thing could have stolen it. It was gold, a promise ring." Dean raised his eyebrows.
"It stole your purity ring? I'm…not trying to judge anyone here Melissa, believe me I can't, but should you really have been wearing that." He asked her and Sam looked at him incredulously. Stealing diaries and invading privacy never seemed to be his brother's style.
"Well- Matt Barne didn't count!" She snapped indignantly.
As they left the hotel, Sam couldn't help but puzzle over their situation.
"So if this is the same thing that's kidnapping virgins, why did it take her promise ring and leave her behind?" He asked Dean.
"Because being easy protects you from all supernatural beings?" Dean suggested. Sam ignored him.
"So what sort of thing likes virgins and gold?" He pondered aloud.
"P. Diddy?" Sam chuckled to himself.
"You know Dean, it's comforting." He said, leaning on the warm roof of the impala.
"What is?"
"I spent a year in Lucifer's cage, came back and you're still not funny." He commented, climbing into the passenger seat. The Impala lowered as Dean got in next to him.
"Shut up bitch, I'm hilarious." He retorted, turning the keys in the engine. Motörhead blared from the speakers, almost shattering Sam's eardrums with a cacophony of guitar and drums. Dean smiled and turned the volume up further.
Back at the motel room, Dean paced helpfully as Sam searched cyberspace for a method to the absolute madness they were wrapped up in. Demonic army, Lucifer throwing a tantrum, fucking monsters acting weird, he just wanted a break for once.
"This isn't possible." Sam declared from across the room. Great, Dean thought, another dollop of not possible.
"Try me." He replied.
"I googled 'wings', 'gold', 'claws', and 'stealing virgins' and it all took me to World of Warcraft fansites. Get this: dragons." Sam continued, his voice full of disbelief. Dean sighed and raked his hands down his face. Seriously, he really needed that break.
"It's been a strange year."