Chapter Text
Gabriel had done an excellent job of hiding. It was kind of his forte, a specialty he’d developed over the centuries since that whole thing with the Prophet and the desert. He’d covered his tracks perfectly once Metatron’s hold on him was broken. Absolutely no hint of his Grace could have shone through the elaborate disguises he put on it. He knew that the Winchesters were out there running around but they had other things on their mind, other problems. There was no reason for them to look for him. If he wasn’t obvious about his less angelic proclivities he wasn’t likely to run into them, right? Of course right.
And it worked – for a whopping month. He felt it when Metatron’s spell chaining Heaven and controlling the Angel Tablet was broken. The Way was unblocked now – returning to Heaven was once again an option and he could conceivably head back to see why he was thus released. You know, if the mood so struck him. On the other hand if he could get to Heaven so could other angels, and there was no way most angels were going to be content to slum it with the mud monkeys. If Heaven were full of angels Gabriel wanted to be as far from Heaven as it was possible to get without sprouting horns and a tail.
Which meant that he stayed in his apartment. Which meant that as he sat on his couch catching up on what had happened on CSI between the time Lucifer had stabbed him and the time he’d come back the door to his apartment quietly opened up and Sam Winchester walked in. The kid looked awful – sallow complexion, stubble, hair that hadn’t seen much shampoo in longer than Gabriel liked to think about. His sunken eyes, though, they glittered with terrible purpose. He closed and locked the door behind him, slipping his lockpicks back into the sea of plaid that enveloped his frame. “How are you even here?” Gabriel scowled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was definitely off about Sam and it wasn’t the inattention to grooming.
“Door was unlocked,” Sam told him. His voice was soft, flat. Back when he’d known Sam he’d spoken in firm tones, even when begging for Dean’s life. Now it was all dullness, a sagging drumhead left out in the rain.
“No. It wasn’t. I triple checked. I was getting ready to enjoy some CSI reruns and I wanted my alone time with Jorja Fox.”
Sam looked a little disturbed by that, but he shrugged. “It was unlocked when I got done with it.”
The archangel rolled his eyes. “Did no one ever teach you any sense of private property?” “The closest thing to morality lessons I ever got was a Batman cartoon, Gabriel. John wasn’t exactly concerned with teaching us right from wrong.” He walked over to the fridge and grabbed two beers.
“Here’s what I want to know – how are you even here? Shouldn’t you be someplace very warm and overcrowded?” he demanded, watching as the giant moved back into the living room. His sense of outrage grew. He’d just purloined his beer like it wasn’t even a problem – like it was his damn house!
“Oh. Right. That. Turns out no one could leave well enough alone so here I am.” He gestured to himself, taking in his whole body. “For all that’s worth. And for the record, it’s only warm when Michael’s feeling social. Your other brother burns cold. Very, very cold.” He gave a shiver that didn’t look entirely voluntary and looked away for a moment.
“Yeah, well. How’d you get out?” He didn’t know how long the kid had been trapped down there, but sticking him with a vengeful Mikey had never been part of the plan. Even leaving him with Lucifer had been more inevitable than punitive. And maybe reminding him of his trip downstairs hadn’t been a kindness. And maybe the fact that someone referred to getting rescued from Hell as someone else not being able to leave well enough alone was kind of a red flag, even for an archangel who didn’t like the rescuee much.
“Castiel tried to fix it. Left my soul behind, Death went in for it. Eventually.” He sipped from his beer. “Apparently I’m a real asshole without my soul.”
“Humans need their souls, bucko,” Gabriel pointed out. “It’s kind of crucial.”
“Yeah. I, uh, had the chance to meet some people who’d had theirs removed by Abaddon and let me tell you, it turns out that I wasn’t as bad as I could have been. Which isn’t saying much. I mean, I was still pretty awful. Anyway. Not the point.” He glanced back at Gabriel. Sam hadn’t ever been the chatty Cathy type, he remembered. He’d been good at pleading his case. He’d been good at getting others to talk about themselves. He couldn’t remember ever having heard him talk about himself this much.
Gabriel was as old as the universe. He had seen galaxies born and die. He had seen things, done things, that were too terrible even for angelic language. He had been a holy messenger. He had been a god – still, technically, was both. He did not like having those glittering orbs on him. “How is it that I never noticed you coming up the stairs or anything?” he demanded, sipping his beer. “I mean, not to toot my own horn or anything, but –“
“Come on, Gabriel. I’ve learned things. I managed to hunt you down once, back all those years ago. This time I needed to be even more sure you didn’t sneak off before I got to talk to you.”
“What, you just couldn’t go another day without playing catch-up?” He sneered. He’d finally figured out what was so “off” about the Winchester. He couldn’t feel Sam at all, and that made his Grace chafe inside his skin. “Spare me. And go away.”
Sam snorted. “I’m not interested in playing catch-up, Gabriel. And I’m not planning to out you. You’re hiding out here for a reason and I totally get that.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” the archangel spat.
Suddenly Sam was up and in his space, looming and terrifying. How could a mere human cause any kind of a reaction in a creature with the power to bend reality with a snap of his fingers? “Do not,” Sam directed quietly, “tell me what I do and do not ‘get.’ Look. We’re not friends and that’s fine. I don’t really do friends, but you’re not Dean’s friend either and that’s why I’m coming to you instead of to one of Castiel’s little featherdusters.”
“Aw, Sammy. Have the angels not proven to be everything you’d imagined they’d be?” Gabriel taunted. Every instinct in him screamed at him to get away, and that was just wrong.
“They’re everything I expected,” the hunter retorted, stepping back just enough to allow Gabriel his freedom of movement. “I need you to do something for me.”
“No.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to like it.”
“Does it involve more self-insert porn?”
“No.” Sam made a face. “That’s… that’s pretty repulsive on a lot of levels. Although if you can get into the bunker I think Dean has some DVDs you can have.”
“The bunker? What, the Men of Letters’ bunker?”
“Sure thing. We’d kind of been squatting there for a while. Too long really.” He looked away again.
“It was never warded against angels.”
“Wasn’t.” He gave a thin-lipped smile. “Look. Just hear me out. I’m absolutely positive you’ll say yes, because it’s a win for you no matter how you look at it.”
“Getting involved with the Winchesters is never a win. For anyone. The last time I agreed to help you twerps my brother stabbed me in the chest. Angels don’t get an ‘afterlife,’ Sam. There’s just oblivion. Nothingness. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” He glared and turned his back. He should just smite Sam where he stood, but such an expression of Grace would reveal his location.
“Not yet.”
“What?” Gabriel swiveled his head around to look at the man.
“Dean took on the Mark of Cain.”
The trickster stood, gaping. “You’re joking.” He was pacing before he knew it, Sam’s eyes tracking him the whole time. “That’s… That’s about the dumbest thing I have ever heard of him doing. I mean Dean was already a shining example of his species when it came to personality and that thing? I mean he must have been foaming at the mouth!”
His companion gave a little snort. The motion his mouth made couldn’t be described as a smile, not even a smirk. “Yeah. Well, that was before he actually got his hands on the First Blade.”
“Whose idiotic idea was that?” He turned on the giant, pointing a finger. “Did you give him the First Blade?”
“No. Crowley tracked it down – this whole… thing… was engineered by Crowley – and he doled it out like a ration of rum until the time came to kill Abaddon. And he killed her, and then he went up against Metatron. And failed.”
“And you let him go in without backup.”
“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting the knockout punch to the face.”
“You should’ve been.” Gabriel had already been softening, but Sam didn’t know that. He saw the kid deflate a little. “Aw, Sam – wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Of course you did. That’s why you said it. And you’re right. It’s not like he wasn’t already… and hadn’t… I mean… Anyway. So Dean’s a Knight of Hell now. Serving Crowley and tearing it up as near as I can tell.”
“Keeping tabs on demons are we?” He shrugged. “I needed to know how bad it was. And it’s pretty bad, and I get that I have no one to blame but myself.”
“How about the guy who made the decision to accept the Mark of freaking Cain?” Gabriel snorted. “Seriously, Sam. Get it together.”
He sighed. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is.” He took a drink. “I’ve got a plan to fix it.”
“Sam, no. We’ve been over this a thousand times. Literally. You can’t keep saving each other from the consequences of your decisions. He made the decision, now he gets to reap what he sowed. End of story.”
“I get what you mean. I really do. I mean him stepping in to ‘save’ me has never worked out well for the rest of the world, has it?” He smirked.
“That’s not what I –“
“Well? It hasn’t. But that’s not what’s happening here. He’s a Knight of Hell, and he’s Crowley’s little lap dog to boot. He wiped out a shopping mall in Singapore yesterday for fun, Gabriel. For kicks. No survivors. Just him, a donkey’s jawbone and so much blood it ran out the doors and into the streets in a stream. He has to be stopped, and the only thing that can kill a Knight of Hell is in his hands.”
“So what – are you going to go to Cain and demand the Mark yourself? Because I have to say, that’s even dumber than what Dean did.”
He shook his head. Winchesters. “What? No. That’s – I’m a lot of things, Gabriel, but I’m not an idiot. That’s where you come in.”
“You’re putting a hit out on your brother?” He blinked. That was about as unexpected as it got. “That’s pretty freaking cold, Sam.”
“That’s not Dean. Not anymore. But no, that’s not what I’m asking you to do.” He angled himself to face Gabriel directly. “If he hadn’t been… vulnerable to Crowley’s manipulation, he wouldn’t have given himself up to the Mark like that. He’d never have put himself in that position.”
“What are you asking, Sam? I’m a sneaky bastard, but even I can’t follow where you’re trying to go with this.”
“You need to erase me from history.”
Gabriel paused. “What? No. That’s – no. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?” The absolute calm with which Sam spoke sent chills through Gabriel’s grace. He found himself reminded of the six months Sam had spent hunting him after the Mystery Spot, the creature he’d become. This time, though, his target was himself. Never let it be said that Sam Winchester was anything but thorough. “If Dean hadn’t felt compelled to leave the bunker he’d never have been vulnerable to Crowley. If he hadn’t been so concerned about ‘rescuing’ me he wouldn’t have felt compelled to leave the bunker. If he hadn’t been hunting he wouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with. And if I never existed he’d never have been hunting at all.” Gabriel found himself drawn in by Sam’s voice. “Think about it, Gabriel. No Sam, no Apocalypse. You could still be running around smiting dicks who deserve it. You’d never have died. Your other brother would still be free. The rest of Heaven – all of the angels killed in the Civil War, all of the angels killed in the War on Earth – none of it would have ever happened. Balthazar would still be alive. Anna would still be alive. “And you – Gabriel – you can be the one to make it all happen. You can be the one to save the world. To fix everything that’s ever happened to Heaven since God left. Instead of being the brother who ran, you’ll be the savior. The hero. The one who finally got rid of Sam Winchester.” He smiled now, a deep, lethal smile that was probably personally responsible for laws all across the Bible Belt.
He glared. “Do women ever actually say no to you?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had occasion to find out. Look. It’s simple. Look at the benefits.”
Gabriel’s skin ran with goosebumps. “Sam, you don’t exactly get a cookie for sacrificing yourself like this,” he pointed out, as gently as he was able. “You don’t get anything. You cease to be. No afterlife, no nothing.”
“I told you. It’s a win-win situation.”
“You – you have a place in Heaven, Sam.” He faced the man. “It’s been assured for years – decades, really. Why the Hell would you pass that up?”
“I’ve seen it. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything. Dean gets the life he should have had all along, you get to be the hero, and I get to go away. Literally everyone goes away happy.”
“So how come you didn’t want to go to Castiel with this one?” he hedged, mind racing. That a person could come to him and just want to be erased like this – it made him want to vomit, honestly. And angels didn’t vomit. “I know he doesn’t have my juice but between the whole flock upstairs they could probably manage to pull something together.”
“Dean won’t be able to live with what he’s done. And I want him to not remember me. I’m a duty to him, a chore, but one he’ll do terrible things to manage. If I never existed he can’t bring me back.” He smiled again, mirthlessly. “It’s pretty permanent, never existing.”
“Sam, you’re sick. You need help.”
Sam gripped his arm, claw-like fingers strong enough to bruise. “I need your help.”
Gabriel paused. “All right, kid. I’ll do it. I wish you’d reconsider.”
“No chance.”
“That’s what I figured. I guess we’ll do it tomorrow morning.” He sighed deeply.
“Why wait?” Sam tilted his head to the side.
“Last night on Earth, kid. Don’t you want to go out with a bang? Enjoy it a little? It’s literally your last chance ever to have a little bit of fun.”
“Not really my thing.” He put his beer down on a coaster. If he noticed that the coaster hadn’t been there ten seconds before he didn’t say anything.
“Well, what did you do the last time – you know, before you jumped?”
“I sat on the hood of the Impala and reminded myself why it had to happen.” He walked toward the door. “Thanks, Gabriel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The angel slumped down onto his couch. He couldn’t fault Sam’s logic, not from a purely reasonable standpoint. That in no way mitigated the absolute horror of what he’d just sat through.
He didn’t like Sam Winchester. He never had. The kid was part demon, and angels naturally recoiled from something as tainted as Azazel’s unholy little spawn. He had knowingly copulated with a demon and while Gabriel’s own sex life wouldn’t really bear a lot of examination he’d never stooped so low. He had released Lucifer from the Cage – unknowingly, it was true, but he’d done it nevertheless.
But he’d also put him back, signing himself up for unending suffering as a result. He was a hero. He should be feasted, celebrated. He should not be begging an archangel to erase him from history just to undo the consequences of his brother’s bad decisions. That Sam could think of nothing to do on his supposed last night on Earth other than to sit and ponder why his utter eradication was the best possible solution – well, that was just kind of pathetic. And it was a real far cry from the bickering brothers that had first caught his attention all those years ago. Those guys – well, those guys might have had a destiny, but those guys were also the guys you could pass a plan along to and at least hope that it would have a chance of happening. They were raw material that became something great.
This? This was a spent match, depleted soil that couldn’t even support weeds anymore. This was Carthage after the Romans finished with it, and Gabriel knew he’d been one of the legionnaires laying down the salt.
He should just kill Sam and take his soul to Heaven. It wasn’t what he wanted but it was the kindest solution. The amount of pain the kid was in – well, it wasn’t something that the brothers were going to be able to fix by hugging it out and having emotionally constipated beers on the hood of the Impala.
Of course, the problem with that was that Winchesters, well, they were useful. They did things, accomplished things. He couldn’t justify letting them go to waste. Besides – after everything even Sam Winchester deserved a happy ending. Dean probably did too, even if he’d become a demon, through what sounded like a monumental act of stupidity.
Fortunately, Gabriel had centuries of coming up with plans on the fly. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but when the Winchesters were involved it tended to involve consequences of cosmic significance. He called out to Castiel, who appeared with an unarmed healer angel in tow. “I thought I told you to come alone,” he told the younger angel.
“I wished to ascertain the safety of the situation. The demon who used to be Dean Winchester has been hunting angels. No angel descends to earth alone anymore. Caution is imperative. This is Flagstaff. ” The dark-haired angel looked around. “You appear shaken, brother.”
“I’ve just had a conversation with Sam Winchester.”
“How did he find you? You have concealed yourself from all eyes.” Maybe he’d learned something in all these years because that was definitely a note of accusation in his typical monotone.
“Sam is very, very good at what he does, Castiel. Don’t underestimate him.” He outlined the conversation he’d had. “How long has his mental state leaned that way?”
“It is difficult to say. He made a similar request during a time-travel experience in the middle of the Apocalypse.”
Flagstaff turned horrified eyes onto her commander. “And this didn’t concern you why?”
“Dean felt that there was nothing of concern there. Besides, we had more important concerns.”
The female angel’s face spoke volumes about her feelings about Dean Winchester and the “more important concerns." Gabriel decided he liked her. “I have extensive experience with mental health counseling,” she began. “
We’re going to let him think we’re doing it,” Gabriel interrupted.
“Excuse me?” both junior angels repeated.
“We’re going to let him think I’m going to erase him from history. Then we’re going to find Dean and cure him. And then we’ll deal with whatever went wrong between them.” They blinked at him. “Oh come on. If Dad wanted them separated he wouldn’t have made them soulmates.”
“Gabriel,” Castiel warned, “I do not think that Dean would welcome outside interference.”
“Good thing we’re not asking permission then, little brother.” Gabriel gave them his best shit-eating grin and pulled a lollipop out of his jacket pocket.