Gabe felt his pocket buzz with another text. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it to read it.
Sent by contact CASTIEL NOVAK at 10:16 PM: Gabriel, do you have any information on the Winchester/Harvelle/Singer family?
He grinned to himself. Man, he hadn't heard those names in- well, he hadn't heard those names since he got himself a prayer from one Sam Winchester. He pulled up the text menu and composed his reply.
Sent by YOU at 10:18 PM: Yeah, Sammy Winchester. Sort of a friend, I guess.
His phone had bleeped within ten seconds of him sending it.
Sent by contact CASTIEL NOVAK at 10:18 PM: All the info you have
Then:
Sent by contact CASTIEL NOVAK at 10:19 PM: don't tell Michael
Gabriel's smile faded a bit. Loyal little Castiel, purposely not telling Michael? Something wasn't right.
Sent by YOU at 10:20 PM: what's the matter, have you finally pulled your ignorant head out of your feathery ass and realized he's a dick?
His phone was awkwardly silent for a few minutes before it buzzed again.
Sent by contact CASTIEL NOVAK at 10:24 PM: he's not a dick, Gabriel. Now give me the information.
He nearly slammed his phone to the pavement. Was Castiel an idiot? Michael was wearing him like a dress to prom. No, scratch that, Cas didn't even qualify as the dress. He was his left shoe. He was a sheep, a brainless herd animal, and it pissed him off. Wasn't Cas supposed to be a smart one? For gods sakes, he was the best strategist Michael had. "Strategize this!" He verbalized, sending his message. It didn't make much sense, but it sounded dramatic.
Sent by YOU at 10:26 PM: They are desperate, lonely people
His heart twinged a little when he imagined Sam, so happy, so entranced as he flitted to and from the pieces of art Gabriel loved so much, appreciation, REAL appreciation glowing from his face. Desperate, lonely, sure, but he had hope, he had passion, and maybe that's what Gabriel saw in him.
Sent by YOU at 10:28 PM: but there's something there, Castiel. maybe you should look for it.

Dean needed to go for a drive.
He jabbed the keys into the ignition and jogged his Baby into drive. Uncle Bobby was still out back with Sam, he'd be back before he even noticed.
As he drove down the cracked desert road, Kansas blasting through his speakers, he felt himself let go. There was more going on with him than he wanted to give himself credit for. A kind of pain seeping through him that he tried to deny, tried to stunt, but instead it chilled his blood, sent shrapnel through his veins. Painful memories floated to the top of his mind.
"Angels, Dean. They're the most wonderful creatures in existence." His mother- Soft blonde hair, a warm, wrinkled smile. She was making cinnamon buns, and the whole kitchen smelled like burnt sugar and peace.
"Are the angels beautiful?" Dean remembered saying. His mother had kneeled down and brought his face into her hands. "Oh, many are. But Dean, there's something you can't forget. Not ever." He nodded vigorously. "Remember: It doesn't matter how you look on the outside. Looks will change. But if you're a truly great person, you shine from the inside."
Dean didn't know what that meant. He remembered cinnamon buns and laughter, he remembered Sammy falling over and stubbing his toe. It was a good memory, warm. But with that memory came pain, ignorant, blinding pain. Heat and flames that licked at his heels as he cradled Sammy, as his father choked for air, as his mom tried desperately to pull herself out. He remembered tears, heat, panic, running. And he realized that he needed to get back on the road.
He had swerved a bit, tears clouding his vision in irate blindness. Damn that Castiel. Damn him, and damn all the angels that came with him. Damn the memories, damn the pictures, damn it all. He wanted them to stop. But Castiel showed up, an angel, a real one, and now he was stuck.
By the time he got home, Sam had retreated to his room and Bobby was sprawled out on the couch, asleep.
"Heya, Dean." Jo called, running a comb through her knotty blonde hair. "You go for a drive?"
"Yeah." He replied, tossing his coat onto the armchair nearby and stretching. "What's dinner?"
"Red beans and rice. Mom made em' for Dad, he's not feeling too great."
"Well, here's to hoping he feels better." He chuckled. "Hanging with Charlie and Becky tonight?"
"Yeah. Charlie's got a new girlfriend she's bringing, someone she met at San Diego Comic Con."
"That's cool." He monotoned, grabbing a beer and taking a swig before Jo snatched it out of his hand. "Dean, mom warned you about drinking in the house."
"Right, whatever." He mumbled. "Buzz off, pantywad."
Jo whacked him on the back of the head painfully, ice shooting through his spine. "Ow!"
"Don't call me that, you dick." She hissed, turning on her heel and stomping away. He rubbed the offended area and stood, knees shaking. He should've known better. Jo wasn't one to take shit. However, she did take his beer, so he grabbed another and went to see what Sam was up to.
"Hey, Sammy." He closed the door behind him with a soft thud. Sam looked up, hair swaying in front of huge brown eyes. "Dean- Why are you here?" His old leather bound journal was sprawled out in front of him again. He never got out of that thing nowadays. Drove Dean a little nuts.
"You still writing?" He said, plopping down next to him and ruffling his hair. This earned him a "Stop that, Dean." and a slap at his hand. He chuckled and took another swig of his beer, which earned a disgusted sneer from his younger brother.
"Dean, you know Aunt Ellen said no drinking."
"Oh, save it. Jo already gave me what for."
Sam scoffed and turned again, poring over his books. "Whatcha reading?"
Sam didn't respond, so he peered over his shoulder. Modern Art History, The Anatomically Based Collection Of Finches, and Ellen's-
"Crap." He mumbled. "Sam, I need that book."
"What?"
"It's really important. I- uh, I kind of ran into an angel, or I guess you could say pushed him out of the way of a bus."
Sam's eyes lit up wildly, his whole body straightening.
"W-What did he look like? Was he blonde? Did he have paint stains on him or anything?"
"No, sorry..." He mumbled apologetically. "Dark hair, blue eyes, weird tan hoodie and black jeans."
"Oh..." Sam whispered. "Sorry."
"You still trying to find G?" He asked.
Sam nodded and he patted him on the back. "You'll find him, I promise. But I need the Angel Encyclopedia."
"Fine. Careful with it, Dean..."
"I'm always careful."
"Sure. That's why Ellen banned pets."
"That was one time!"
"The hamsters count."
"I was like, 8!"
"You set one on fire with a SOLDERING gun. Like, I can't even fix a piece of jewlery with one of those things."
"I'm just talented."
Sam chuckled, which made Dean smile. "Best of luck, lil bro."
"You too, Dean."