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At first, Gabriel didn’t realise what had woken him. He blinked around the dark room sleepily for a moment, then turned in Sam’s arms and snuggled into him again.
That’s when he noticed Sam’s entire form was shaking.
"Samster?" Gabriel whispered quietly, leaning back to squint at Sam’s face in the dark. "You okay there, kid?"
Sam didn’t reply. As Gabriel’s eyes adjusted, he saw the hunter’s face was flushed and his eyes were squeezed shut and his chestnut hair was plastered to his face with sweat. As Gabriel watched, Sam’s chest hitched with what the archangel soon realised was a sob.
"Whoa," said Gabriel, sitting up and nudging the other man. Sam flinched away from him, sucking in a sharp breath. "Whoa there, Sammy. Calm down. What’s wrong?"
Sam’s only response was a hiss of, “F-fuck!" as his eyes shot open. His breathing quickened even further and he shoved a fist in his mouth, biting down so hard that Gabriel could see a couple drops of blood swelling on his skin and trickling down his arm. "Fuckfuckfuck—" Sam broke off with a choking sound and paled suddenly, his skin taking on a greenish tone before he leaned over the side of the bed and threw up, violently.
Gabriel sat there, frozen, as Sam retched. After a moment, he gingerly reached out a hand to rest it on the hunter’s back. The muscles beneath his palm were tense, and the skin was slick with sweat.
"Oh, Christ, Sammy," Gabriel said, starting to panic a little himself. "What’s got into you?"
Sam didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled over and pulled himself close to Gabriel, burying his face in the archangel’s neck. More quiet sobs shook his body as he mumbled something like, “They’re going to come back for me, Gabe” over and over until his words melted together in a string of hitching, nonsensical syllables.
"Who—Who’s coming back for you?" Gabriel asked. When Sam didn’t respond, he repeated the question again—this time, a little more forcefully as he leaned back and shook the Winchester by the shoulders. He had an awful, sickening feeling that he was handling this situation wrong, but he was at a loss for what to do.
Sam blinked up at him with feverishly bright green eyes. “The demons, Gabe!” he choked out. “Lucifer! He’s going to pull me back into the Cage again, and this time I won’t get out, because… because…” He trailed off, his rapid breathing starting up again, irregular and choppy. He clamped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut once more.
Gabriel felt himself paling now, too. “Don’t be dumb, Samsquatch. If they wanna get to you, they’ll have to go through me.”
"Lu-Lucifer killed you once before, Gabriel!" Sam got out. "Wh-What if he d-does it—does it again?"
Sam’s words felt like knives. Gabriel had let Sam down by not thinking clearly enough before he took on Lucifer, by not planning—and now, this is where they were. Sam didn’t trust him—didn’t trust Gabriel not to die and leave him alone for Lucifer to snatch up again.
"Even if he does gank me again, your big bro’ll still be here," Gabriel said softly, carefully wrapping his arms around Sam and pulling him into his form. Sam welcomed the touch, melting into Gabriel’s arms. "And you know that ol’ Deano will rip Hell, Heaven and all the rest apart to get you back."
"He didn’t last time," Sam mumbled into Gabriel’s shoulder. Although he was still shaking, he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. Gabriel took this as a good sign.
"Yeah, well, Cas got you outta there last time, didn’t he? And he was AWOL at that point. Now we can’t get rid of that stiff bastard or the stick up his ass, no matter how hard we try. Even if I’m gone, Sammo, you won’t be in the Cage more than a nanosecond now Dean and Cas are best buddies again,” Gabriel promised. “Hell, they’ll be unstoppable. And if they leave your soul behind or whatever, I’ll come back from the dead early just to kick their asses.”
He felt Sam nod a little.
"You want me to go get ‘em so they can promise you themselves?" asked Gabriel as he started to move. Sam’s grip tightened on him so hard that Gabriel thought it might’ve seriously hurt, had he been human.
"N-No," Sam said. "Just… just stay with me. P-please?"
He sounded so ashamed, like he felt bad for asking. Gabriel frowned and carefully hugged Sam again. “Sure thing, moosey. I got ya, okay?”
Sam didn’t reply, but he relaxed his grip. Gabriel carefully combed his fingers through Sam’s hair, brushing it off the hunter’s face, and kissed his forehead. “I got ya,” he repeated again, this time as a whisper.
He continued this for around half an hour, kissing and hugging and reassuring Sam every time he felt the Winchester tense even slightly, until Sam’s breathing slowed and he started snoring very softly.
Gabriel inhaled deeply, kissing the top of Sam’s head again and snapping his fingers to get rid of the sick from earlier. He was shocked that Sam still had such vivid nightmares and full-on panic attacks about Hell—he’d been in the Cage years ago. But as Gabriel thought this over, he felt like an absolute idiot. No one just recovers from going to Hell. Sam was a rare case in the way he didn’t break down every other hour because of flashbacks.
Gabriel suddenly realised why Sam’s eyes sometimes looked red or his voice sounded scratchier than usual when he came out the bathroom. And he felt completely useless as he looked down at Sam’s pale face, because why, if he loved Sam much, couldn’t he make his pain go away?