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Gabriel.
The voice was clear and sharp and full of pain, and it was concerning (almost as much as it was surprising) to Gabriel that Sam Winchester was calling out for him at all. It had been months since he’d messed with them last... although that particular lesson had backfired on him a little.
Well, fuck them – they’d made their point, they had no right to start calling on him; it was his choice when to go back and grace those freakishly-tall assholes with his presence.
Gabriel, please.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty and while the facts of that statement do not apply to archangels, the sentiment certainly does. Gabriel had a lot of experience with hindsight.
Gabriel, I need your help. Here I am. Please.
Gabriel was moving before he’d really thought about it. He stopped, then decided to let the impulse take him to Sam. What could it hurt? Perhaps he’d even get a few good tricks out of it.
Ten seconds later he was discovering there was a reason why one of the distrusting, self-righteous Winchester brothers was calling out to a Trickster they screwed over repeatedly for help.
He should have known better. That’ll teach him to be benevolent, he rolled his eyes.
Sam looked disgustingly happy to see him. He also looked plain disgusting: sweating, shaking and folded in on himself against the wall. “Oh, Sammy. What did you do?”
Gabriel was willing to admit that part of him was relieved to see Sam taking one more step down Lucifer’s road for him, but there was a larger part which had hoped that these boys had a solution no-one had thought of, that they very well could stop the apocalypse they’d begun. With heavenly rage he’d long thought lost, that latter part wanted to cry out and curse.
Mostly curse.
Sam was staring up at him like he wasn’t even sure Gabriel was there, and given the kid was detoxing hard, it was a fair suspicion. Ignoring Sam for a second, he tried to put himself on the other side of the safe-room door. When he remained firmly in place, he took a cursory glance around.
That urge to curse was only rising.
He stalked over to the door and leaned against it as casually as he could. “Hey, Castiel?”
“Gabriel?”
“Yeah,” his brother was confused, but so was Gabriel; the younger angel could wait for his answers. “So, was it really necessary to include archangels in these wards?” Sure that meant they’d hold Lucifer, but Lucifer could be held by other means. Had their experiences with archangels been that bad?
“We had to be prepared for any eventuality,” Castiel replied firmly. “I will not open this door.”
And that was a tone of voice Gabriel refused to argue with. He was distantly aware of Dean outside the house, and Singer in the kitchen. He guessed he was stuck here with the crashing Winchester. “Sure, I’ll just cool my heels and play with my Barbies.”
“You’re actually here,” Sam asked, his long limbs still impossibly folded up and chin resting on his knees when Gabriel turned to face him. He looked so very young and so very damaged. “You came.”
“Starting to regret that, kid,” he sighed. The safe-room had only a bed, two people and a lot of inscription and iron. It was almost a work of anti-supernatural art, were it not for the Vessel hopped up on demon blood and an archangel-turned-Trickster with identity issues spoiling the view. “I’ll ask again; what did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s not going to happen again. Can you get me out of here?”
“Don’t take me for a fool, Sammy,” Gabriel replied darkly. “I’m older than time itself. You aren’t leaving this room until you’re clean.” Which, judging by the waves of desperation and wrong coming off the kid was a good few hours away still.
“Famine,” he confessed after a moment. “We ran into Famine.”
That was just... perfect. At this rate, Gabriel thought, it was going to be one very explosive blue streak when he finally gave in. A deep unnecessary breath and he continued, “Where is he now?”
“Dead. Gone,” Sam’s voice was low and soft, but every word seemed like an effort. “As good as.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get details out of this kid right now. “And how?”
“I killed the demons whose souls he’d taken and Dean cut off his ring. Poof,” the laugh that Sam pushed out was not amused at all. He flexed his hands, clasped around his knees.
“Hold on. Famine made you crave, you gave in and you used the high …to get rid of Famine?”
Sam looked up and blinked slowly, confused. “Yeah.”
He sighed with a low whistle, long and steady, which was more for Sam’s benefit than his. That wasn’t a step closer to Lucifer at all. It wasn’t exactly a habit the kid should get into, using his ill-gotten powers for the greater good, but Gabriel was certain Lucifer was pissed about this new development.
“Every time I think...” He trailed off. He was an expert in human nature, eons of observation could make him nothing else, and yet this kid could still surprise him. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe Sam wasn’t Lucifer in his grand analogy; Dean was every inch Michael, so what did that make Sam?
“Can you help me?” Sam asked quietly.
Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I can help you wait,” he suggested, although there was nothing else he could do – he couldn’t leave. He looked around from where he was by the door, and thought about pacing or sitting on the bed at the other side of the room. It seemed so separate and to hell with it, he wanted to figure this kid out. He walked the circumference of the room towards Sam and after a split second of second thought, sank gracefully to sit beside him.
Sam stared down at his knees. “Thanks.”
He shrugged, his shoulder brushing Sam’s as he did. “What other havoc did Famine wreak, then?”
“I don’t think I saw Castiel without a hamburger in his hand for longer than a minute the whole time,” he grinned, and Gabriel snorted. “But Dean...”
“What about him?” He could only imagine what Dean’s cravings were... but, hadn’t Dean been the one to cut off Famine’s ring? He couldn’t have done that fattened, drunk, and sexed up.
Sam was wracked with a shudder and he swallowed, echoing in the bare, silent room. Hoarsely he continued, “Dean didn’t crave anything. He stopped eating, drinking and turned down his usual Valentine’s Day bar crawl. Famine said-“
“Oh,” Gabriel frowned, “I can guess. And he was wrong.”
“Really?” He looked at Gabriel with such hope; it was strange to be the target of that.
He nodded, “He was. But that’s a conversation I should have with your brother.”
“Can I get tickets to that?” Sam asked with a weak smile, putting his head back down on his knees.
Smirking, Gabriel could only imagine how that conversation would go down, “Sure thing, Sammy. How long have you been in here?”
It seemed to Gabriel that the worst of the withdrawal had passed, but the more he’d drunk the longer he’d have to stay.
“I don’t know, I can’t tell. I think it’s been almost two days.”
He almost choked on his surprise. Two days and he was only just hitting the downhill stretch? Sam must have seriously binged, making his resistance to Famine all the more... incredible. It was frankly amazing, actually, and he’d never have expected it out of the kid. Well, first things first: Sammy was going to be getting pretty hungry soon. “Think you can stomach some soup?”
“Oh, yeah, please,” Sam straightened up, “Chicken?”
“Alright,” a click later and one steaming bowl of soup was on the floor by Gabriel’s side, and once Sam had unfurled himself, Gabriel passed it over with a freshly conjured spoon. “Go slow, I don’t want to clear it up when you can’t keep it down.”
Sam swallowed a mouthful with an appreciative groan and looked at Gabriel pointedly. “This isn’t my first time around the withdrawal block.” After another few sips, he was getting colour back in his cheeks, “And anyway, all you’d have to do is click.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, conjuring a Snickers bar to munch on while the kid ate. “How bad were the cravings before Famine came on the scene?”
The shrug he gave made his shoulders brush Gabriel’s, and when Sam set aside the half-eaten soup, he seemed to lean against Gabriel. He said nothing, letting Sam relax against him and take what he needed from the contact. “Whatever happened in that convent, whatever put me on that plane, it burned the blood right out. I had no withdrawal, but I still... It was getting easier to ignore, distracting myself with whatever hunt we were on.”
Ah yes, Castiel’s reason for believing dear old Dad was still around with his fingers in the pies. Gabriel was inclined to think that it was a consequence of the ritual for freeing Lucifer that burned away the demon blood in Sam, but even he was at a loss to explain how the Winchesters made it onto that plane. The only thing Gabriel was certain of in this world was that God was gone, and no amount of praying or searching would find Him if He did not wish to be found. And if an Apocalypse wasn’t going to grab his attention, one little seraph was not going to become the little toaster that could.
“Back to square one, Sam,” Gabriel said eventually, sitting firm against Sam’s increasing weight against him. He looked over to find the kid asleep, head threatening to loll onto Gabriel’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s just...”
He shifted a little further away, only making it easier for Sam to sleepily rest his head on the archangel’s shoulder. He sighed, and conjured himself a book.
The sound of voices on the other side of the door suggested it was about to open. He thought for a second about leaving Sam as he was, practically curled against Gabriel with his head on his shoulder, but he apparently needed to have a talk with Dean about supposedly being soulless or empty or some such similar nonsense and he couldn’t broach that if he pissed the elder Winchester off straight away. He untangled himself from Sam and nudged awake as gently as he could; by the time the door to the safe-room clanged open, Gabriel was standing, leaning nonchalantly against the wall as Sam folded himself back up into a sleepy huddle.
Dean stalked in, closely followed by Castiel. “What are you doing here?”
Gabriel was about to offer a sarcastic comment, one of a few he’d been preparing in the five hours Sam had been sleeping, but the kid got there first. “I called him here, Dean, and he got trapped.”
“Just as I said,” added Castiel, and Gabriel was surprised to hear distinct snippiness in the tone. There was clearly some trouble in paradise, he thought, amused at the irony in that cliché.
Dean’s gaze zeroed in on the bowl of now-cold soup by Sam’s side and he looked at Gabriel suspiciously. “How are you feeling Sam?”
The three replies at once echoed in the room, ’I’m alright’, ’He’s clean’, ’The demon blood is no longer in his system.’
Other than the slight clenching of Dean’s fists, he hardly moved. “Sam?”
“I’m alright – I just need a shower and,” Sam looked up at Gabriel, “maybe some more soup?”
Gabriel tried not to grin as he nodded. “Can do, Sammy.”
Sam manoeuvred himself up, and Gabriel remembered that Sam really was a giant. Dean clapped his arm as he walked past, and that was probably all the acceptance the kid was going to get right now – this couldn’t have been a cheerful episode for any of them. “So I hear you crazy kids ran into Famine,” he started.
“Why did you come here?” Dean demanded.
He resisted the urge to snap back - he needed Dean in a receptive mood. That called for honesty, or as close to it as Gabriel was willing to get, “Because Sam called.”
“Why does that matter?”
Wow, Dean was a dog with bone. “He’s always been my favourite,” although that wasn’t exactly true. First time he’d seen the Winchesters, he’d seen them for what they were, Dean reminding him of how happy Michael had been, once. Sam was tall, funny but ultimately destined for the devil. But of course, once Dean was damned he felt it necessary to try and prevent the inevitable and over the equivalent of three months he’d certainly developed a soft spot for Sam - or a soft spot for tormenting Sam, which had been just as satisfying. “He called, I got curious and then I got stuck. I figured I may as well get the story out of Sammy-boy while I waited.”
“One of us would have let you out,” Dean lied.
Gabriel looked at the angel at Dean’s side, “Castiel refused to open the door.”
Something passed between Dean and Castiel, a look which Gabriel was loath to interpret. When Dean turned back to face Gabriel, he seemed both lighter and more troubled, which Gabriel could understand even if he wasn’t sure what significance the door held. “What was in the soup?”
“Chicken,” he shrugged, and decided that while risky, dropping a few names could help, “Just like your momma used to make.”
Bingo. Dean frowned, “What, really?”
“Bowl in it for you too, if you drop the twenty questions and give me a few moments of your undivided attention,” Gabriel suggested, looking to Castiel and hoping his intention was clear.
It was, and Castiel nodded. “I shall go assist Bobby.” Great, thought Gabriel. Cas is even learning to make excuses now.
Dean watched him leave and turned back to Gabriel. “What? What do you want?”
“You met Famine, kicked his frail, hungry ass too as I understand,” it wasn’t a question, but Gabriel was satisfied when – even though Dean had balked at the subject matter – the elder brother nodded. “Now, I need you to listen carefully and understand that I say this for no-one’s benefit but yours because I’m starting to think you three have a chance-“
Dean snorted.
Oh, it had been a long time since Gabriel had wanted to flex his wings to intimidate. “Hey, you don’t get to be the cynic here. Do you realise what Sam did? He did exactly what Lucifer wanted him to do – he sucked a few demons dry. But instead of using that to feed himself, to give in,” Gabriel watched Dean go from beyond pissed to confused in the space of a few moments, “Your brother used that power to incapacitate a Horseman. He gave Lucifer the finger in a big way, and if he can resist an addiction like that? You can bet he has a good chance of keeping up his ‘no’s.”
He didn’t let Dean say anything, but he had a feeling he was stunned into silence anyway. “Now, I have to say I find Castiel’s craving for meat disturbing, especially given he is inhabiting an empty vessel, but apparently you all but shut down every impulse.”
“Don’t you fucking dare-“
“Oh shut it, Winchester,” Gabriel growled. “You’re not empty or soulless or whatever Famine used to twist you up. Newsflash – Hell wants to fuck with your head! Michael wouldn’t want you so bad if you were soulless. If you were soulless, you’d be useless – humans need souls to function. Even demons have souls, demons are souls – how else would Famine be able to feed on them? So suck it up and get on with fighting the apocalypse.”
Gabriel realised he’d backed Dean into the wall, the man looking hunted and a little shell-shocked. He took a step back, “And if you want the simplest proof? You love Castiel, and you love your brother – thankfully not in the same way. You couldn’t do that if you were running on empty. Are we clear?”
“Yeah,” Dean said hoarsely, “Crystal.”
“Good,” he nodded.
“Why are you doing this?”
Gabriel shrugged, “Hell if I know.” But Sam had surprised him, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. As he thought about it, Sam had always surprised him just a little, and he was hoping that perhaps this not-so-merry little band of crazy could surprise him once more, and find some way to win.
“Well, thanks,” Dean was still suspicious, but he wasn’t as openly hostile anymore, “For looking after Sam just now, and for... before.”
“Don’t strain yourself, sport,” Gabriel rolled his eyes, walking towards the door.
Dean sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, stopping him as he passed with a hand on Gabriel’s arm. “Could you, maybe, not mention the thing about Cas again? Ever?”
“What’s my incentive?” Although, he decided he wasn’t likely to stick his nose into that just yet.
The elder Winchester gave Gabriel a smirk to rival his own. “I won’t mention that you let Sam sprawl on you for five hours, you put your arm around him and,” his grin was triumphant, “That you like him. Ever.”
“What are you, twelve?” He wondered where the camera was in the safe-room, but it was moot now. “You bring that up, it’s a free for all on Castiel,” he threatened.
“Deal,” Dean let go of Gabriel. “Now, bribe me some more with soup.”
“Pie?”
“Ah, the way to my heart.”
“I hope not, Cas has a vicious glare.”
“Hey!”