Author's Corner: Just wanted to give Shali a shout out for the guest review. I'm glad you you didn't let the "Horror" tag scare you off. :)

Part 2

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean shouted into his phone as he drove down the road. A disconnected tone blared from the phone. He cursed, ending the call and tossing the phone onto the passenger seat of the Impala. He gritted his teeth and slammed on the gas.

"Gabriel," Sam tried to get through to the archangel again. His muscles were tense, preparing to fight or flee. With Gabriel holding his head, the chances of escape were slim, but the probability of surviving a fight was even slimmer—the only weapons he had on him were his gun and a pocket knife, neither of which would do much harm to an angel.

Gabriel smashed their mouths together. Sam winced as their teeth clanked together and Gabriel's tongue probed a little too deeply and roughly for his enjoyment.

Sam fisted one hand around Gabriel's shoulders, clutching the fabric of Gabriel's jacket, as he tried to keep himself grounded and not panic. He scanned the desk for something sharp, but found nothing other than the corner edges of the desk. Internally, Sam winced at what he knew he had to do if he even wanted chance of surviving if things took a sudden turn for the worst.

He breathed through his nose as his chest burned with the need for more oxygen. Gabriel was usually much better at recognizing this basic human need, but whatever was messing with his head, either made him uncaring or unaware of Sam's needs.

Sam placed his palm against the corner edge of the desk, digging it into his skin. He hid the movement by shoving against Gabriel's shoulder.

Gabriel resisted, and even slid his hands under Sam's shirt to rove over the flesh underneath.

Sam was getting light headed. It helped dull the pain in his palm. The corner cut into his skin, but it wasn't drawing enough blood. He shoved his palm harder into the corner. He groaned in pain, but Gabriel misunderstood and took it as encouragement.

Sam angled his mouth so that a corner of it was free from Gabriel's. "Breathe," he mumbled, before lips pressed against his feverishly.

Gabriel hummed in a lazy, yet inquiring manner.

Sam bit on Gabriel's lip, earning him enough room to murmur, "Air."

Gabriel tensed, and suddenly his mouth was gone from Sam's and peppering kisses up and down Sam's neck. "Sorry. Sorry. Just need to be—" He bit down bruising hard on the junction between Sam's collarbone and neck. Sam groaned against the pain. Normally he wouldn't mind a little roughness, but there was nothing about the situation that Sam found sexy. "Just need to be closer to you," Gabriel breathed across his neck in a warm breath.

Sam released the fistful of jacket that he'd clamped onto, and let his hand drift to Gabriel's back where he rubbed soothing circles both to comfort and distract Gabriel as drew an angel banishing sigil on the desk.

Gabriel's hands roamed over Sam's chest and abs, only to stop. "Just want to be closer," Gabriel huffed. His hands pressed down against Sam's stomach.

Sam tensed. An image of Gabriel ripping into him and pulling out his intestines popped into his head, and he hastened his efforts to draw the banishing sigil.

Pain flooded Sam as Gabriel's hands sunk into his flesh, but not at all in the way he had envisioned. Gabriel was reaching through him to his soul. It burned, and every thought except for a desperate need to make the pain stop and sense of violation bled away. He was mildly aware that he was screaming, and clinging to Gabriel, who was whispering things in his ear in a calming voice that did nothing of the sort.

He could feel it—Gabriel's fingers wrapped around and cradling his essence, and it felt wrong.

Then there was a flash of light, the pain was gone, and Sam dropped into the chair he had been sitting in. His limbs hung limply at his side and vertigo wrecked havoc on his vision. He was distantly aware of Dean sliding in front of him, looking him over injuries, and shouting his name. Then Dean was lifting him out of the chair, slinging one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, and hauling Sam out of the shop.

It wasn't until he was in the passenger seat of the Impala that his senses began to return to normal. He could smell the scents of beer, gunpowder, and fast food that always permeated the Impala. He could hear the sounds of nearby traffic and Dean muttering curses under his breath as he slid into the driver seat. A stab of pain led Sam's attention to his palm, where a small stream of blood flowed out of his flesh. "You got rid of him?" Sam huffed.

Dean's head snapped to Sam, clearly not having expected Sam to be in a talkative mood yet. He nodded his head, slowly as if hesitant to answer, although Sam couldn't fathom why.

Sam slumped into his seat, momentarily relieved.

"Talk about bad touch, right?" Dean tried to joke.

"Too soon."

Silence fell between them, and Dean started the engine.

"Left blood on the desk," Sam mumbled.

Dean paused, his hand poised to flick his turn indicator and signal his intent to pull out from the sidewalk. He killed the engine a moment later, and grumbled to himself. He reached over into back seat on the car and fished around until he pulled out a small canister of holy oil. He shoved it at Sam's chest as he got out the car. "Stay put."

Dean marched into Lotta's shop and didn't return for ten minutes. He didn't waste words as he hoped in the car and drove away from Lotta's shop. A minute later he finally spoke up, "Do you need food or something?"

Sam licked his lips. His strength was starting to return to him, but he could use a little extra fuel. "Water."

Dean nodded and pulled into a gas station. He was out the car and returning with a bottle of water and a health bar within a minute. The sight of the heath bar pulled on Sam's heartstrings; Dean was a lot more concerned than he was letting on if he was catering to Sam's health conscious eating habits without being asked. "Thanks." Sam ripped open the bar's packing and took a bite. He washed it down with a mouthful of water.

After Sam took another bite, Dean plowed onward with his inquiries. "So was there a reason Gabriel was fucking around with your soul, or has he lost it?"

Sam frowned, reliving the moment in his head again. "Something is messing with him, but either its not strong enough to completely control him, or Gabriel is fighting it."

"You certain?"

Sam shook his head. "When I told him I needed air. He immediately let me and kept apologizing for what he'd done. Also…" Sam hesitated, unsure if he was reading too deeply into things. "Yesterday when I called him out on acting like jealous boyfriend, his whole attitude changed. It was like he was himself for a moment, like he remembered who was."

"So…what? The power of love is keeping him in check or something?" Incredulity rolled off Dean's tongue, and Sam didn't blame him. "Doesn't that sound like the opposite of what's been going on here? Does Gabriel's freak out have anything to do with the case or do we another thing to worry about?"

Sam decided it was best not to point out that whether or not Gabriel's mental lapse was caused by the same thing behind all of the recent murders in town, there was another thing to worry about: Gabriel. If Gabriel had developed a case of a stalker/abusive boyfriend mind set, things were about to get more hairy for Sam and Dean. "All I know is, he had five éclairs from Danny's Sweet Shop yesterday—chocolate éclairs."

"Shit," Dean hissed, gripping the steering wheel tight.

"Made by David."

"Well, you just keep piling on all the good news, don't you?" Dean snapped. He ran his hand through his hair as he bit the inside of his cheek. He let out a deep breath. "Okay. We check out where David works, see if we can find anything that suggests witchcraft, and when we do, we shoot the bastard and leave. That should end whatever has got Gabriel, going nuts-o."

Sam nodded and gave Dean directions to get to Danny's Sweet Shop—he decided it would be better to argue with Dean later about keeping David alive until they knew for a fact that the spell would break once David passed. The drive was short and Dean parked in front the shop. Sam reached to undo his seatbelt when he heard Dean clear his throat. He looked up as he undid the clasp. Dean pointed to neck. "You might want to cover that up." Dean ducked out of the car without any other word.

Sam's hand flew up to his neck where Gabriel had bitten him. He huffed in annoyance as he adjusted his collar so it hid the bruise. He stepped out of the car and gestured at his neck. "Better?"

Dean shook his head. "Jesus, I knew he had a big mouth, but…" Dean scrunched up his face in disgust. "You know what, it's fine. FBI can get hickeys too."

Self-consciousness wracked Sam's nerves as he strolled into the shop with Dean. Was the bruise really so big that it could still be seen after he'd fixed his collar?

A man wiped down the counter as Sam and Dean entered. A small rectangular pin with "Danny" embossed across it gave away the man's identity. The man himself was quite a sight to see. He was bulky and tanned to the point where just a few more hours in the sun would make his skin leather; Sam would have expected him to be a gardener if he didn't know better.

"How may I help you two?" Danny asked with a smile that put David's gracious host one to shame.

Practically in sync, Sam and Dean flashed their FBI badges at Danny.

Danny just blinked in mild surprise.

"I am sure you are aware of the recent murders in town," Dean said as he pocketed his badge at the same time as Sam. "We would like to investigate your shop."

Danny cocked his head to the side. "You think my shop is somehow tied to the recent murders?" Amusement danced in his eyes. He laughed, tossing the towel he'd been wiping the counter down with over his shoulder. He turned and waved them to back. "All right. You're crazy, but whatever gets you to sleep at night." He held open the door to the kitchen for them. "Have at it. I'll be out here taking care of my customers."

"Uh… all right. Thanks." Dean fidgeted as he strolled into the kitchen. Sam didn't blame him. Rarely did they get a reaction like Danny's when they asked to investigate a place. Even so, Sam wasn't going complain—it made their job much easier.

The kitchen was huge with utensils, pots, pans, and trays littering every surface. Dean pointed at Sam then at the right wall. Sam knew that he'd just been assigned to search the right half of the room while Dean took the left. Sam marched over to the farthest corner of the wall and opened up the cupboards overhead, sifting through their contents. Behind him he heard a bang and clatter, and he turned to see that Dean had knocked over a pot. Sam chuckled and went back to work. Sam rifled through every drawer and cupboard, and even got on his hands and knees to see if something was tucked underneath the rolling shelves and trays.

He was three quarters of the way through his section and was sweating from the constant heat generated by the ovens. He wiped his brow as he crouched in front of the sink and opened the cupboard below. A box of garbage bags, a few cleaning products, and the sink's pipe greeted him.

Sam sighed, about to shut the cupboard when he shifted, changing his angle. The sink's pipe was bent so that it was an "S" shape, and crammed between the top of that "S" and the cupboard was a hefty leather bound book. "Dean!" Sam hollered.

He half crawled into the cupboard and pushed against the books spine until it popped out of its spot and fell into Sam's waiting hand. Dean's footsteps padded hurriedly across the floor, and Sam crawled out from the cupboard and held the book up victoriously over his head. "Either I just found someone's journal, or I think we got a grimoire."

Dean snatched up the book and snapped it open. He flipped through a few pages and whistled lowly. "Talk about overkill. I've barely opened this thing and I've already found five hexes, one of which looks like it is for Chlamydia." Dean shuddered. "Friggin' witches. Givin' people sexual diseases without givin' them the good stuff first."

Sam frowned and stole the book from Dean as he stood up. "Instead of complaining about STDs, don't you think we should be confronting David, or looking for the spell he used?"

Dean smirked. "Sorry, I thought you'd be interested in STDs, since your boyfriend gave you one."

Sam flushed as he remembered the TV Land incident. "It wasn't real, and he wasn't my boyfriend then. Now focus."

Dean raised an eyebrow in mock shock. "Not your boyfriend then, Sammy? You slut."

"Shut up!" Sam shoved Dean in the arm. "Go look around the shop some more and see if you can find any ingredients he might have used in the spell. We should probably look in to Dav—"

The door to the front of the shop swung open, and Danny waltzed inside. He whistled a happy tune to himself, but stopped when he realized that Sam and Dean were frozen to the spot. Danny looked between them and shrugged. He meandered over to the ovens, opened each one and mumbled comments about the goodies inside.

"I see you found Lotta's book," Danny said as he checked the third oven.

Sam tensed and stared at the book in his arms. "Lotta?"

Dean stepped forward. "You mean David's, right?"

Danny waved his hand in flippant manner. "That book has been in Lotta's family for years. David took it a few weeks ago, and she's just waiting to see when he will man up and return it to her."

Sam frowned. "How do you know that?"

Danny turned and smacked his hands together as if trying to clean them of dirt. He beamed. "You think I don't know my own kitchen? I found that book weeks ago, and told Lotta."

"And you knew it was hers?" Sam pressed.

"Of course. We dated when we were teenagers and she showed it to me then. The book is very bad mojo, but since most people don't know how to use magic or something like that—you'd have ask Lotta for the details, cause really, I just don't know what she's talking about—she lets David keep it. Something about the illusion of power helping him heal or something like that, and the whole learning to own up to his wrongs thing I mentioned."

The illusion of power? The murders that had been happening around town were no illusion. Lotta had to truly believe that David did not have any magic or control over magic if she wasn't the least bit curious about the strange murders. Sam glanced at Dean, and he could tell his brother was thinking along the same lines.

Dean cleared his throat. "I think my partner and I have searched enough. We will be confiscating this book for now. Thank you for your cooperation."

Danny frowned, eyes glancing down at the book. He opened his mouth then shut it.

Sam gave a silent nod farewell, and followed Dean out of the shop and into the Impala.

Sam glanced at the illuminated numbers on the hotel clock as he flipped through the grimoire. His shoulder blades pressed together at the realization that it had been just over two hours since Gabriel had been banished. It took a nice chunk of time for angels to find Sam and Dean again once the sigil had been used, but Gabriel was an archangel. His recovery time could be even less.

Sam subtly angled his head to reexamine the symbols Dean and him had drawn on the door and windows to keep Gabriel out. If the markings were doing their job correctly, then for all Sam knew, Gabriel had already returned and was just waiting outside to grab him when Sam finally left the room.

Dean sat on the foot of the bed with Sam's laptop in his lap as he typed across the keys.

"You find David's address yet?" Sam asked.

"Huff?" Dean blinked and looked up from the screen. "Uh, yeah. Yeah." Dean's eyes shot back to the laptop.

Sam scowled. "Are you watching porn?"

Dean scoffed in a manner that gave away that he was doing exactly what Sam suspected he was doing. "Jeez, Sam, you don't ask a guy those kind of things."

Sam skimmed over the spell on the page in front of him, then turned it as he glowered. "Your supposed to be looking up David's information, and I better not get a virus."

Dean waved him. "I already got the kid's address. I'm ready to go once your done combing through that piece of junk."

Sam frowned, but kept his thoughts to himself. He just wanted to make sure whatever spell or potion was being used to make Gabriel crazy would be undone once David was dead. If not, then at the very least, Sam wanted to know and be ready with whatever would reverse Gabriel's condition. He read through ten more pages of spells when something finally caught his eye.

Sam cleared his throat to get Dean's attention. "I found a potion designed to heighten…" Sam scrunched his nose at the word choice on the page. "…'romantic desires'."

Dean frowned at the wording. "That'd a little vague."

A scoff of a laugh escaped Sam as he ran his finger over the words of the page. "No kidding. According to someone's notes scrawled on the bottom of the page, it's a spell that can either be used for good or evil. A few drops, and suddenly someone who wants to be more active in the bedroom gets a kick in the libido, but if given too much…"

"Dude keeps plowing his girlfriend until they either die of exhaustion or dehydration," Dean supplied.

Sam nodded, reading through more of the notes, not liking one bit what they were describing. "That's assuming the girlfriend doesn't fight back or escape after she's had enough. There's also a warning about emotions turning volatile, especially if the person is rejected."

"Jesus," Dean hissed. "Did the person who write that just sit there and watch as couples killed each other?" There was a pause then something flashed in Dean's eyes and he straightened. "Do you think it's David's notes?"

Sam studied the handwriting. It was an androgynous script that was mostly blocky, but had a few letters that contained flourishes. "No idea. I've never seen him write anything." Sam shut the book and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. "It also says nothing about a reversal potion or spell."

"So maybe it wears off after a few days?" Dean supplied, although Sam knew his brother was already mentally preparing a plan to kill Gabriel if need be.

Sam nodded despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean stood up and clamped his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we can still tie down David and make him talk. He might know some way to reverse it."

Sam didn't protest, rising to his feet from the desk he had been studying at.

Suddenly Dean's face transformed into a grimace. "So wait… Gabriel wanted to touch your soul?" His grimace grew. "That's so frickin' cheesy, and complete romantic bullshit. Like the stuff they sell to those batshit teenage girls."

Sam's had went to his stomach at the memory of the invasion. His ears burned at the as his mind replayed Gabriel's words right before he grabbed Sam's soul. "I don't think it was that he wanted to touch my soul."

"Okay…" Dean leveled him with a suspicious glare. "What did he want then?"

"Just need to be closer to you." Sam scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "It's kind of private." If Gabriel had been in his right mind he never would have uttered those words unless it was in the context of sex. Considering that he'd spoken those words right before touching Sam's soul, Sam concluded that the plea for intimacy was not of the physical kind but emotional.

Dean held his ground.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "You wouldn't want me going around telling him your personal stuff, so don't ask me to share his stuff with you."

Dean blinked, a tad taken aback by Sam's argument, but after a moment he nodded—none too happily—then marched out the door with the Impala's keys in hand.

Sam shut the book and tucked it into the desk's narrow drawer before trudging after Dean. Dread weighed down his thoughts and twisted his insides. Not even the head-pounding volume of Dean's music blaring out of the car's speakers could drown out his worrisome thoughts as they drove to David's home—a small innocuous duplex that could use some reroofing.

"Second floor," Dean said through a grunt as he put the emergency parking brake in place. He was out of the car and popping the trunk in seconds.

"Great," sarcasm dripped off Sam's voice as he stepped out of the Impala. He eyed the second level of the duplex—noting that it could probably use some repainting on the outside too. "Let's hope his downstairs neighbors aren't home to hear us if we have to tackle him."

Dean grinned as he pulled out a knife and hid it within the confines of his jacket. "They'll think he's just havin' some rough sex."

Sam scoffed. "Because that's the first thing everyone thinks off when they hear loud bangs upstairs."

"Yeah," Dean said as if it were obvious. "It's the odd ones who don't."

He passed a knife to Sam, and just as Sam finished tucking the blade away, Dean handed him a spare gun. Sam checked to make sure it was loaded. From the corner of his eye he watched Dean pull out a pair of handcuffs. Dean grabbed a few more items to help keep David in place once they captured him—assuming they wouldn't be forced to kill him right away.

Dean took the lead, his gun held at the ready, as they crept up the worn staircase leading to the second story of the duplex. Standing in front of the door, Dean raised his foot to kick it in when Sam put his hand on Dean's. Dean looked at Sam curiously.

"Maybe we should knock first? I doubt he suspects anything. It might be easier to catch him off guard that way."

"What, you want to sit down for tea and cookies with him, and when he turns his back hit him over the head?"

"I could do without the tea and cookies, but yeah. Why not?"

Dean frowned, trying to conjure an argument against Sam's reasoning. Finally, he cursed and stashed his gun away. Sam copied his action. He knocked on the door. There was a shout of surprise followed by a muffled, "Coming!"

The door flew open moments later with David standing there in gray sweats peppered with what looked to be Cheetos crumbs.

Dean hummed in amusement. "Enjoying your day off, I see."

David eyed Dean with suspicion. His gaze drifted to Sam and recognition flashed across his face. His head swiveled to Dean and he frowned. "Where's the other guy?"

"Creepin' on his boyfriend," Dean answered.

Sam ignored the urge to elbow Dean in reprimand. "We were hoping you could answer some more questions about Lotta Heartwell and her business."

David nodded, but his frowned was still on his face. "Okay, I guess. What do you want to know?"

"We'd like to keep this conversation as private as possible, and it could take a while." Sam let the sentence hang in the air, waiting for David to infer Sam's request.

The frown lines across David's face deepened, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Sam and Dean in.

Dean went in first, watching David from the corner of his eye for any sudden movements. Sam mimicked him, examining the small and sparse living room. There was kitchen just a bit smaller than Dean and Sam's in the hotel they were staying at attached to the living room. David waved them toward a two-person couch with torn and frayed edges along the arms. Sam took the offered seat, while Dean stood nearby the piece of furniture.

"Would you two like something to drink?" David strolled to the kitchen and opened the olive colored fridge. He bent forward and practically stuck his head into the fridge as he scrounged around inside it. His back was turned also, making him an easy target to sneak up on.

One of Dean's eyebrows shot up as he stared at Sam incredulously then wandered over to the kitchen casually. "What do you got?"

David peeked his head out of the fridge long enough to see that Dean was standing behind him. He then stuck his head inside the fridge again like an ostrich. "I got a few can of beers, if you want. Can you guys drink on the—"

Dean slammed the grip of his gun on David's head.

David collapsed with a grunt, his head banging on the shelves inside the fridge as he slumped down.

Dean blinked in disbelief as he stared at David's unconscious form. "That was too easy."

Sam frowned as he stood up to join Dean. Maybe it was because growing up a hunter he was a little more jaded than most, but even he found this situation too easy. "Well, he's still young. Just barely out of high school, maybe—"

A hand clamped over Sam's mouth from behind while an arm with inhuman strength wrapped around his waist and pulled him toward a smaller body.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and lunged toward Sam.

The scene blurred and changed before Dean could reach him. A purple and orange sunset greeted his eyes as Sam fought against the hold of his offender. He was on roof of brick building that at glance appeared to be four stories high.

"Sam," his name was spoken in a warning tone, and Sam knew that voice.

It was Gabriel.

The arm wrapped around his waist loosened and the hand clasped over Sam's mouth dropped. Sam shoved all of his weight against the arm to free himself, but the limb wouldn't budge. Sam internally cursed, he was once again in position where he couldn't defend himself. Unlike the last time Gabriel had him pinned, he hand a knife he could use to cut his hand and draw the banishing sigil, but there was no way he could pull it out without garnering Gabriel's attention. The aggravation at his predicament caused his head to throb. He twisted in Gabriel's grasp so he was facing the archangel head on.

Sam stiffened as golden eyes filled with longing and sorrow burrowed into his just before Gabriel buried his face in Sam's chest and squeezed him.

"I missed you, Samsquatch. Why didn't you look for me after Dean sent me away?" The hands sprawled along the cradle of Sam's back pressed harder against Sam, the fingers curling around Sam's jacket. "Dean-o's going to wish he was stuck in a time loop again when I'm through with him."

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't torture my brother," Sam said.

Gabriel yanked his face away from Sam's chest and glared up at him. "He separated us. Are you happy about that Sam? Do you want to get away from me?"

Crap. The grimoire had said rejection could trigger volatile reactions from the potion's consumer. Sam needed to monitor his words or he'd end up like all of the murder victims.

Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel's neck and pulled him in for a hug. "Damn it, Gabriel. I'm standing here right now, aren't I? Even after you touched my soul, which, in case you didn't notice, hurt like hell."

Gabriel's expression softened. He blinked and shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Frickin' screamed like a banshee. Probably would have made my ears bleed if I were human." Gabriel shuddered, his head falling forward so his forehead rested on Sam's shoulder. "Fuck! Just—" Gabriel hands twitched over Sam's spine. "Just gotta get closer. You'll adapt to the pain." Gabriel shook his head. "No. You won't. You'll—"

Sam couldn't see the struggle on Gabriel's face, but he could hear it in the archangel's voice. A rubbed a hand soothingly over Gabriel's shoulders.

Gabriel's hands slid away from Sam's back, down to his hips where his gripped tightened. "Sorry, but I gotta…" One hand drifted toward Sam's stomach—the same place Gabriel hand touched just before he grabbed Sam's soul last time.

A litany of curses flew off of Dean's lips as he finished drawing a ring of salt around David, who he had tied and cuffed to a chair in the living room. He had drawn every protective symbol he knew into the floor and the walls to make certain that there was no way David would escape. He needed a reversal spell and he needed it ten minutes ago, before Gabriel had kidnapped Sam and taken him to Hell knows where.

He marched over to the boy slumped over in the chair and slapped David across the cheek. There was a loud satisfying smack, but the boy did not stir. Dean slapped him again and again until David finally groaned and lifted his head. Through the squinted eyes the young man glanced around the room. He chuckled wearily. "Well, someone has an interest in the occult."

Dean brandished his knife. "Tell me how to undo the effects of the potion you've been slippin' people and you might get out of this alive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," David huffed, turning his head away from Dean.

Dean scowled. "I'd be more inclined to believe you if your first reaction to being tied to a chair had been to panic and ask questions, not comment on the redecorating."

David glowered. "Considering I'm renting, the state of my floors and walls is important to me."

Dean snapped. He jabbed the knife into David's shoulder.

David howled in pain.

"I'm not fucking around kid. You only got a few minutes before I just say, 'fuck it' and kill you."

The only thing keeping David from lunging at Dean were the handcuffs and rope binding him to the chair. His eyes cast around the room, and he smirked. "Your partner is missing. Let me guess. Someone got hold of some of my chocolate? Now you partner has run off to find his girlfriend of something and kill her, right?"

Dean slashed David down the inside of his left arm, blood streamed out of the wound.

David hissed and scrunched his face. "Friggin' bitch."

Dean punched David across the face.

David's head snapped to the side and blood dribbled down his nose.

Dean crossed his arms. "I'm not going to wait much longer."

"I think you'll wait all day, if you want to save your partners."

Dean shoved the blade up against David's throat, breaking the skin. "Considering they could be killing each other right now, I'd rather bet on your death stopping whatever you've done to them than you spilling your guts before they do any permanent damage. So what's it going to be, kid?"

David glowered at Dean.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach flexing away from Gabriel's touch. "Don't," Sam warned.

Gabriel cringed, but his hand pursued Sam's stomach, resting on the planes of Sam's abs.

Sam held down a shudder as the memory of the pain he'd felt prior returned to him. Sam reached for his knife and pulled it out, but before he could properly aim, Gabriel's hand flew up and clasped his wrist.

For a moment Gabriel was bug-eyed, but all shock was wiped away by fury. "What the hell, Sam?"

"Self defense."

Gabriel shoved Sam away from him, with such strength that Sam stumbled, tripped, and fell on his ass. He hissed as his bottom collided with the hard roof and clenched his jaw. He pushed himself up on his arms, but didn't get further because Gabriel was kneeled right beside him and had fisted the collar of Sam's shirt. Gabriel yanked Sam forward. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Sam's fingers flexed on the handle of his knife—he still hand it, and if push came to shove he could use it. "Not to sound like a little girl, but you pushed me down! You're trying to touch my soul again even though you said I screamed like banshee." Sam lifted one of his hands and gripped the back of Gabriel's head, forcing Gabriel to look him in the eye. "C'mon Gabriel, I know you're in there. You can control this."

Gabriel closed his eyes as if in agony. He clenched his teeth together as he fought down his urges.

"If you can't that means some wannabe witch with barely any experience got the best of you," Sam said, attempting to appeal to his ego.

Gabriel's eyes flew open. A spark of fury flashed in his gaze. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers so deep into the roof he created groove marks. "When I tell you to run, you run like Lucifer is drunk and wants to play darts with your body as a target board, got it?"

Sam nodded, although doubt hovered around him like a gray cloud. Even if Gabriel managed to control himself for a minute, it wouldn't be enough time for Sam to escape—not with Gabriel's speed and power.

Gabriel took deep breaths. His hand came up to hold Sam's wrist, but instead of a steely grip like Sam expected, it was a loose touch. Gabriel shuddered as he took one more deep breath then released Sam. He leaned away from Sam. "Run."

Sam pushed himself up and beelined it for the emergency escape ladder.

Sam had only gotten his feet on the first few rungs when Gabriel seized him by his arms and tugged him forward.

David cursed as Dean struck him again and demanded answers.

David wasn't talking and too much time had passed.

Dean pushed down any fear that killing David wouldn't solve anything, and rammed his blade into the boy's heart, twisting it as an extra measure.

David gasped and his body jerked before collapsing in heap. Dean ignored the spasms that wracked David's body as the last bit of life bled out of him.

Sam was frozen to the spot, not sure what to do as Gabriel stared at him, looking equally confused. Sam physically and mentally braced himself to be thrown through the air or even be mauled by some random tiger Gabriel chose to summon.

"Sam?" Gabriel whispered his name in an unbelieving manner.

Sam hesitated. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel released Sam and backtracked like he'd been burned. "Holy fuck! Did I—? Shit! Did I really just go stalker crazy on your ass?" He clutched his head and cursed some more. He glanced at the spot where he had kneeled over Sam—the indents of his fingers in the roof prominently visible. More profanity flew out of Gabriel. "It's all so fuzzy. Did I really touch your soul, and without your permission too?"

Sam paused, still processing the situation. "Are you, really you?"

"Of course I'm me, knucklehead, who else would I…" Gabriel cut himself off. He took a deep breath and a second later, a mischievous smirk danced upon his lips. "Are you going just stand on that ladder all night or are you going to move?"

The smirk and familiar flippant attitude triggered something inside Sam, and he found himself climbing off the ladder and onto the roof. He shuffled toward Gabriel, examining every inch of him as if there would be some physical indication that the curse was broken. "Are you okay?"

Gabriel scowled at Sam, giving the Winchester a whiplash at the sudden change of emotions. "I'm an archangel and trickster. What do you think I'm made of? Glass?" Without any warning he yanked down Sam's head, forcing Sam into the awkward and mildly uncomfortable position of resting his forehead against Gabriel's shoulder. "Idiot."

Sam sighed as Gabriel kneaded the back of his neck, and continued on a mild rant about Sam's stupidity. This was his Gabriel.

It had been one week since David's case, and Sam and Dean were in a town where they had just finished salting and burning the bones of a ghost haunting the local amusement park. They had returned to their motel room for the night—Dean running off to take a shower before he went out to the closest bar to pick up a girl for the night.

Sam stared at his illuminated computer screen as he debated an idea in his head. The last time he had seen Gabriel had been on the rooftop right after the spell had broken. He hadn't made contact with Gabriel since then because he assumed Gabriel wanted some time to himself, and also Gabriel was usually the one who decided when he would stop by. However, the case involving David left a few questions hanging in the air now, and Sam wanted answers.

The curse had revealed that Gabriel wanted to be closer—wanted to be in a monogamous relationship with Sam, but Gabriel was pushing him away. He knew that Gabriel's distance didn't mean that his feelings toward Sam had changed, but if Gabriel could only acknowledge those feelings under the influence of magic maybe they were best as only friends with benefits.

Sam took one more glance at the computer screen, which displayed the local movie theater and airing times.

Sam inhaled deeply as he braced himself for what he had planned. He craned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I pray to the archangel Gabriel, I need you here. I have something I want ask you."

"Personally, I think I'm a little too young to get married, so if it's a marriage proposal, the answer is 'no.'" Gabriel voice came from Sam's bed.

Sam twisted in his chair so he could see the archangel.

Gabriel lay on his stomach across the bed, with his legs crossed at the ankles in the air. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Sam. "Although if it's another proposal that involves us taking off our clothes, then I'm all for it."

Sam bit down a chuckle as he shook his head at Gabriel. "I wanted to know if you want to see a movie."

Gabriel frowned. "A movie?"

Sam nodded. He felt silly asking such a question, but he knew Gabriel was smart and would connect the dots until he realized what Sam was getting at.

"Like a date?" Gabriel inquired in a guarded manner.

Sam nodded again.

"Like boyfriends?"

"Like boyfriends," Sam repeated.

Gabriel's brows knitted together as he ran over the phrase repeatedly in his mind. He grinned, although it looked forced. "You know, possessive, stalking boyfriends are not as attractive as Twilight makes them out to be."

Sam shrugged. "I know I stalked you a few years ago, but considering I was trying to get you to bring my brother back to life after you killed him repeatedly, can you really blame me?"

There was a pause as Sam's question sunk in then Gabriel burst out laughing, his chuckles filling the room as he clutched his stomach. "You actually went there."

A small, contented smile played on Sam's lips. He was delighted to have broken the tension.

Gabriel laughter finally died down and he rolled off the bed. He stood behind Sam, his hand grasping the back of Sam's chair as he stared at the computer screen. He hummed in thought. "I don't know. This is our first official date, and as boyfriends no less. A movie just ain't going to cut it. We should go to Paris." He frowned. "No, that is too cliché."

Sam chuckled and swatted Gabriel in the stomach. "Just take me to movie, you show off."

Gabriel grinned from ear to ear. "Whatever you want, Sam."

He swooped down and kissed Sam on the lips.

End.