Gabriel manages to drink half the bottle of water in small sips but the chips are a lost cause. As soon as he opens the bag, he has to throw it to the other side of the couch to get the oily, salty smell away from his nose before he throws up.
His stomach feels empty and his head is pounding with the beginnings of a migraine, but aside from that and the residual ache throughout his entire body, he's not in too much pain. He wonders, as he wanders the aisles in the library, just how much morphine Svadilfari gave him. Well, whatever. As long as he's awake, lucid, and able to at least try and escape, he's not going to question it too much.
The library isn't as big as he'd first thought; it just seems that way because of how many books are crammed into the shelves. The room's actually rather small for a library, Gabriel finds. The ceiling is high but the uppermost few feet are a web of crisscrossing support beams, wooden and painted a colour that puts him in mind of log cabins. Actually, now that he thinks about it, that's probably where he is. It would certainly explain the large, old-fashioned fireplace he'd woken up next to and the fact that every piece of furniture he can see appears to be made out of wood.
"Okay, time to Sherlock Holmes this bitch," Gabriel mutters to himself. He navigates the shelves and finds that the back corner is occupied by an enormous wooden desk, absolutely spotless and devoid of any paper. Gabriel frowns and runs the tips of his fingers over the surface of the desk. "No dust," he mumbles. "This is regularly used but it's been cleared off."
The drawers, when he tugs them open, contain nothing but clean paper and… feather quills? He even finds a few inkwells. Sam did say that Greys can live a long time, but, damn, just how old is this wolf?
Gabriel slams the drawer shut and huffs, crossing his arms as he walks back through the shelves. His gaze wanders aimlessly across the books shoved unceremoniously into the shelves. Most of them are old-fashioned, leather bound—he supposes tomes would be the right word given how thick they are. Every so often he'll spot a modern paperback or hardcover, the spines brightly coloured compared to the mainly black and brown leather books.
Near the end of the shelf, however, his attention is grabbed by a quick flash of white. He pauses and looks up, tilting his head in confusion at the white book sitting innocently at the very top of the shelf, all by itself. Curiosity piqued, Gabriel runs back to the desk and pulls out the heavy chair sitting in front of it, incredibly glad that it has wheels.
He positions it right below the book and locks the wheels before climbing up. Carefully, he stretches his arm and just barely manages to slide the book out of its spot. Allowing himself a small smirk of victory, Gabriel hops off the chair, landing heavily and with a curse as his legs nearly give out and send him to the floor.
"Right," he says, clutching onto the shelf for support. "I'm severely ill."
He doesn't look at the book in his hand until he flops back onto the couch near the fireplace, tired despite not having done much. His legs ache like hell and his headache is getting worse, and he thinks the morphine might be wearing off. He does his best to ignore the pain, knowing that if he gave in to it Sam would find out through the Bond.
Instead, he focuses on the book, that's actually more of a journal, now that he's paying attention. It's leather, like most of the other books, and appears to be just as old. The cover is cracked and stained in some places, and the small length of string holding it shut is frayed and dirty. Opening it releases a cloud of dust that causes him to sneeze, which in turn makes him gasp as sharp pain shoots through his chest.
Yeah, the morphine is definitely wearing off.
But something tells him that this journal is important, so he pushes his pain to the back of his mind and settles down to read.
The Journal of Gavril and Rachel is the title, written in big, blocky letters on the inside of the front cover. The ink has long since faded away, but the imprint of the letters is still embedded in the leather. On the next page, however, the handwriting is different. It's smaller and harder to read, somewhere between messy cursive and calligraphy, and the difference is so severe that Gabriel instantly knows the title was written by someone else.
Svadilfari probably added the title, but if he read this journal enough to do that, why would it be on the top shelf, covered in dust? Gabriel runs the tip of his finger through the dust on the page, frowning as he inspects it.
"These are pencil shavings," he says to himself, "But there aren't any pencil marks, so he put them here on purpose." But why?
I met my true mate today, Gabriel reads on the first page, and oh. That's why. There's something significant to the journal, something about true mates, that Svadilfari doesn't want Gabriel to find out.
"But that's exactly what I intend to do, buttface," Gabriel says viciously. He settles himself deeper into the couch, only to jump nearly out of his skin when the door bursts open. The book, small enough to fit into one hand, is quickly shoved in between the couch cushions.
Gabriel hisses in pain as he pulls himself off of the couch and to his feet, glaring at the space between two shelves where he thinks Svadilfari will appear.
"Oh," says a voice, undeniably masculine but not as deep as Dean's or John's. "You're awake."
Well, shit.
Svadilfari, in all his average-sized, kind-faced glory, is holding a syringe and a small bottle half-full of clear liquid. He looks, for all intents and purposes, like someone who'd work in a bookstore, or maybe at a Starbucks; somewhere where he'd be hired simply because of how friendly he is and how high the customer service rating would go with him on the staff.
Gabriel is instantly on edge. Something inside him—reacts, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth in a parody of a smile that he can only call a snarl. He didn't consciously decide to, but at the same time he did and oh shit that's his goddamned wolf, what the fuck.
Svadilfari pauses and gives Gabriel a bemused smile, as if he hasn't already kidnapped him from a hospital and is about to drug him out of his mind. Gabriel finds it easy to let his wolf take over, more or less, instinctively stepping behind the couch, seeking any illusion of shelter he can get. The bookshelves would make pretty good shelter, too, for a while, but Gabriel's stomach is really starting to hurt and he doesn't think he'd be able to make it before Svadilfari caught him, anyway.
"There's no need to growl," Svadilfari says, and Gabriel blinks, cutting off a growl that he hadn't even realised was escaping his throat. The sound echoes for a second, deep and menacing in a way Gabriel never thought his voice could be, but the moment of retrospection is ruined by Svadilfari. "That's better," he says, continuing towards Gabriel, who backs away until his back hits the wall.
He remembers too late that running from a predator only encourages it to chase.
"What do you want with me?" he demands, his voice coming out steady despite the birdlike pulse pounding under his skin and the adrenaline flooding his system.
Svadilfari frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Why did you kidnap me?" Gabriel asks, confidence growing as he's not attacked. He eyes the bottle in Svadilfari's hands with wariness and a little longing.
Gabe, you got really panicked all of a sudden. Are you okay?
"Kidnap is a strong word," Svadilfari says. His shoulder relax a bit underneath his unassuming grey t-shirt and he even smiles a little as he fills the syringe, carefully eyeing the needle to make sure he has the right amount. "I prefer the term 'liberate'."
I am most definitely not okay, oh my god, this crazy bastard thinks he saved me from something.
He's there with you? Okay, don't do anything to provoke him. We think we know where you are and we're on our way, but it'll take us a little while to get there. Try not to die until then.
The tone is casual but Gabriel can feel the seriousness of the words, how desperate Sam is to get him back safe. It reminds him that Sam's life is on the line as much as his own; if something should happen to him, he has no doubt Sam would do something drastic like kill himself. Well, maybe drastic to the Gabriel from a few weeks ago. Now, though, he'd most likely do the same if something ever happened to Sam.
Gabriel releases a breath and forcibly calms himself down, standing from the slightly crouched posture he'd taken and unclenching his fists. Svadilfari's eyes narrow the slightest bit but he makes no other signs that he's noticed the change in Gabriel, instead choosing to continue looking at him with a vial in one hand and a needle poised like a weapon in the other.
"Liberate?" Gabriel repeats, voice forced-casual and tinged with slight curiosity. Never has he been more glad of all the school plays he has under his belt than now. "Liberate me from what?"
"From a pup who'd claim you as his mate," the other wolf says, lip curling and pale green eyes flashing with annoyance. "He's too young to know what that entails."
"And I suppose you're old enough to know the responsibility?" Gabriel says wryly. Without giving Svadilfari a chance to answer, he says, "I'm the same age as Sam. If he's too young to have a mate, then so am I."
"True mates can find each other regardless of age," is the answer.
"Well, that explains why Sam and I have such a close Bond," Gabriel says, eyes wide with fake innocence that just barely conceals his irritation. Now that he's reasonably sure Svadilfari isn't going to attack him, his fear has given way to anger. He's still wary, of course, but it's wariness almost overshadowed by near-fury.
Svadilfari snarls, eyes flaring bright green and nails scraping against the vial hard enough to draw a screeching sound that makes Gabriel flinch.
"He is not your mate!" the older wolf growls, voice guttural and filled with anger. "Or if he is, he won't be for long. As soon as you are healed, we'll perform the Blood Rites, and any connection you might have will be severed."
Gabriel's mouth falls open in shock and he lets out an indignant noise. Before he can voice his complaints, however, Svadilfari is before him, having moved too fast for him to react. With inhuman strength, he grips Gabriel's wrist and positions the needle above the inside of his elbow, forgetting in his haste that Gabriel is a Grey wolf, too.
Gabriel snarls and, acting completely on instinct, kicks Svadilfari in the gut so hard that he actually flips backwards over the couch and lands in a heap on the floor. Heart in his throat, Gabriel dashes to the fallen wolf, grabs the needle from his hand, and jabs it into his arm before he can react. Svadilfari growls and yanks the needle out, accidentally depressing the syringe halfway in his haste.
Gabriel allows himself a brief smirk before he turns and runs back the way Svadilfari came, towards the thankfully open door. He dashes through and slams it shut just as the other Grey slams into it, letting out a loud snarl. Gabriel turns the heavy deadbolt and frantically looks around for something he can use to block the door. A heavy coffee table is quickly dragged in front of the door, and anything that Gabriel can easily lift is soon placed on top.
The door is shaking from the force Svadilfari is using to try and break it down, the pounding noise blocking out whatever furious words he's screaming. Gabriel, panting and in pain and thrumming with adrenaline, briefly scans the room he's found himself in.
He ignores the furniture, noting instead that the windows have bars over them and the door leading to the outside is shut and padlocked. His wolf urges him to shift in case he needs to fight, but Gabriel resists, unsure of what that will do to his body. Now that the morphine has more or less worn off, he can feel every bit of pain that was absent before, from the pounding in his head to the writhing of his stomach to the full-body ache that nearly prevents him from moving.
He heads first to the door, yanking futilely on the padlock and cursing in frustration when it doesn't give. There's nothing he can use to pick the lock, and it's not like he'd know how even if he had something, so he tries to take a more Svadilfari-esque approach and attempts to kick the door down.
It's heavy and wooden, like everything else in this godforsaken cabin, but it has a very satisfying give when Gabriel's shoe connects with it. He figures that his wolf is helping him out a lot because there's no way he has that much strength naturally. Still, the door doesn't crack and Gabriel finds himself just as trapped as he'd been before.
Worse than before, even, because now Svadilfari knows he's awake and is trying to kill him.
"GABRIEL! OPEN THIS DOOR!"
Gabriel's mouth falls open in indignation at the commanding tone Svadilfari's using. He recognises what Sam refers to as the "Alpha voice" and both Gabriel and his wolf bristle angrily at the outright impudence. The power Svadilfari pushes into the command rolls off of Gabriel with only a little push from his own mind. It's almost like using the Bond that he has with Sam, he finds; the same principle as pushing a thought to his mate, except instead of a thought it's an emotion or a want, a command in feelings instead of words.
Gabriel pushes and abruptly the banging on the door stops. He grins; he can practically hear Svadilfari's jaw hitting the floor.
"I'm an Alpha, you goddamn tool," Gabriel says. His terror turns to exhilaration. He has power over Svadilfari; maybe not enough control over it to make him follow his every command, but in a battle of wills Gabriel is fairly confident that he'd be able to hold his own, at least. "How do I get out of here?"
Svadilfari doesn't answer, and something in Gabriel tells him to start with a less complex question.
"Where's the key to the front door?" he asks instead, adding as much push to the words as he can. He blinks when he feels—something swell into the room, making the air hot and thick. It should be uncomfortable, but it only serves to make the animalistic part of him practically purr happily.
Svadilfari snarls loudly before answering. "In my pocket!" he spits, fury nearly palpable in his words. Gabriel blanches, every fibre of his being telling him that it's a very bad idea to go back into that library. But he needs the key, he reasons, and besides, he's more dominant than Svadilfari; as long as he keeps pushing down on the other wolf so he can't phase, it should be fine, right?
Right. Of course. Gabriel nods decisively to himself and, ignoring the pain and the fear and the instinct screaming at him not to, he pushes aside the coffee table, unlocks the door, and steps inside.
Svadilfari retreats as soon as Gabriel steps over the threshold, eyes glowing bright green as he snarls and spits curses. Gabriel looks at him and his wolf is pleased when the other Grey looks down after trying and failing to hold his gaze. Smirking even though his heart is beating so fast he's sure Svadilfari can hear it, Gabriel heads to the couch and extracts the journal.
"Where did you find that?" Svadilfari asks, eyes tracking the book like it's his child as Gabriel cautiously walks over to him.
"Stay still," Gabriel warns, hand hovering a little in front of him. Svadilfari sneers, and Gabriel takes that as his cue to start searching his pockets. "I found it where you left it, of course. What's so special about this journal anyway?" There is no push behind the words and so Gabriel doesn't get an answer; well, he gets a snarl, but he's not going to count that since Svadilfari's been snarling practically nonstop for the last ten minutes.
There's a small brass key in his back pocket and Gabriel shivers with disgust at having to touch a wolf who's not his mate. Once he has the key, he quickly shoves it into his own pocket and wipes his hand on his shirt as if he can wipe off the Svadilfari smell no doubt clinging to his hand.
Gabriel releases a small breath and allows himself a tiny smirk that has Svadilfari literally snapping his teeth. At this rate, it won't be long before he's foaming at the mouth with anger, so Gabriel backs away from him, towards the door, knowing better than to turn his back to a predator.
"Ah!" Gabriel gasps, pausing and hunching over halfway to the door as a sudden wave of sharp pain rushes through him. His eyes close of their own accord and for a moment, he's incapable of doing anything other than trying to breathe. It passes quickly, but that split second of distraction was all Svadilfari needed to break free of Gabriel's dominance.
A loud ripping sound and a deeper, more threatening growl than before alert Gabriel that Svadilfari's phased, which means that he'll be much harder to control. Gabriel doesn't think he has the strength to pull that off, especially not with the way his stomach is twisting in on itself and his arms and legs are beginning to throb. He doesn't look back, but steadies his nerves and then bolts for the library door once more. Svadilfari is faster in his wolf form, but Gabriel is desperate, and it grants him the speed he needs to get out the door and slam it shut before the wolf can catch him.
He immediately pulls the key from his pocket and replaces it with the journal as he heads to the front door. His hands are shaking but he inserts the key into the padlock in one easy movement, twisting it and opening the door just as Svadilfari's big paws somehow manage to open the library door.
Gabriel, compelled by some morbid curiosity he didn't know he possessed, turns. Svadilfari isn't a huge wolf—he's smaller than both Sam and Dean, and, if memory serves, it looks as though he'd be about the same size as Ash's wolf—but he's the most terrifying wolf Gabriel's ever seen.
His lips, drawn all the way back from his sharp fangs, are coated with white, frothy saliva, and a steady, high-pitched growl issues forth from his throat. The whites of his eyes are visible around the green irises, which flick from Gabriel's feet to his chest to his head and back again restlessly. His wolf is clearly rabid and Gabriel shivers, suddenly understanding just what had felt so off about him.
Their eyes meet and for a moment, it's as if the very air is still, waiting for either one of them to make a move. Then Svadilfari snarls and charges, and Gabriel pulls out the journal, clamps down onto it with his teeth, and runs out the front door.
He's a wolf before he even hits the top step, instinct taking over and urging him farther, faster, away even as his stomach starts doing painful flips and everything starts to spin. Gabriel runs, noting absently that they're surrounded on all sides by dense forest.
His fur will stand out like a beacon among the bright green and dark brown of the trees and underbrush, but he doesn't have to hide. All he has to do is outrun his pursuer until help arrives, which shouldn't be too hard; wolves are built for running and Gabriel has the added benefit of adrenaline from having to run for his life, and Svadilfari should be at least a little hampered by whatever morphine managed to get into his system.
Head pounding, stomach churning, and entire body aching, Gabriel runs faster than he's ever run in his life and sends out a terrified plea to the one he knows is always listening.
Sam!
I have no words except sorry.