Archive of Our Own

Bright spot number one of joining a Supernatural convention was the opportunity of not being noticed even while walking across the corridor with an angel sword in each hand. Sure, people did look at him, and probably even too much, but it was usually to object to the facture of what they thought was a cosplay - of course the choice of clothing was out of character, of course – and luckily not to call the police or anything. If they'd known that those swords were as real as the Archangel that stood in front of them, of course, they would have sucked it up and shut their cake holes at once. The thing, though, was the fact that Gabriel had barely noticed the annoying stares that people kept throwing at him, because there was a definitely most important nuisance to take care of in that place.
His antenna had, in fact, started buzzing like a metal detector in a hardware store, and that had been the only reason why he'd chosen to join the parade. Not that he didn't have a rushing desire to come back in a female!Dean costume, though, mind him. But it didn't happen often that his angel radar detected such a powerful creature anywhere near him. Never, at least, since he'd left the Pagan Gods Saturday Club. But even the better of them, then again, would have hardly been as powerful as whoever-that-was he'd spotted in the place, and that surely did scare the hell out of him.
The presence he'd sensed was extremely powerful and old, and that he'd awarded. But the thing was that he, or she, or whatever, was no stranger to him, even if Gabriel couldn't identify it yet. It sounded familiar. That thing surely had something to do with feathers and cloudy houses, and was extremely powerful, so he could only think of three names that fit the terms: Raphael, Michael, and, worst of all, Lucifer.
Gabriel shrugged and shook his head, blinking rapidly to forget whatever was swirling around in his head. Right now he had a mission to accomplish. The thing was getting close-- it was only a couple of rooms away by now, and Gabriel could feel his angel radar going mad. The more he approached it, the more he could sense its strenght, and it made his wings curl with uncomfortableness. Finally, breathing hard, holding tighter onto his angel swords with sweaty hands, he gently pushed the door open with his right shoulder.
The swords fell from his hands at once. Some of the people sitting in the room turned around to glare at him in annoyance.
He recognised immediatly the man standing on the stage. And so did he.
«Father».

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

That, surely, he hadn't expected.
Gabriel's wings were curling with uncomfortableness when Chuck followed him into a near empty room, a couple of minutes later, after muttering his apologies to the fans. Gabriel inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he heard the sound of the door closing behind his father.
There was silence for a couple of seconds. None of the two could think of anything to tell to the other. Gabriel was facing the window, his fingers diving into his hair.
«I thought you were dead», Gabriel whispered, not moving a muscle. «You left Heaven without a word. I mourned you for years».
Chuck was clearly trying to keep his voice calm and steady, but the words just kept flowing out like a rushing river. «If I remember correctly, you left home too. For a millennium. I thought you were dead, holy--». He paused, pinching the base of his nose. «Look at me, Gabriel. Look at me. You know how I found out that you'd just left us to get a new life? That was when I found your dead body in that hotel, pagan gods rushing away from the city. Do you think that was any easier?».
Chuck was shouting now, his face red in anger , but Gabriel lifted his face and looked at him with glistening eyes. «I'm sorry», he whispered, his lip trembling. «I just couldn't- I couldn't do it a-anymore, Father. It's just-- Michael, and- and Lucifer-».
Don't cry, he told to himself, biting hard onto his lips to fulfill his own order, for the sake of everything, stop being an idiot and don't cry.
It was too late. His eyes were stinging for the need of releasing his longly held back tears, his throat was rigid and aching, his lips were trembling and couldn't keep in a sob at the mere thinking of his brothers. «I'm so sorry».
«I know. I know». Chuck opened his arms and engulfed his shaking son into his arms, cradling him, holding him to his chest while he sobbed. What a good claim of a family we've got here, Gabriel thought, and he was sure his father was listening. We're more fucked up than we were those millennia ago. Chuck closed his eyes, laying his forehead onto Gabriel's shoulder, and he inhaled deeply, holding in a sad laughter. «Still better than no family at all». He paused, smiling against the fabric of Gabe's jacket.
It took them a couple of moments to finally split from each other. Even then, Chuck didn't let his son go, holding him by the shoulders and shaking them lightly. His eyes dived into Gabriel's, staring at him, a smile spreading onto his lips, but the Archangel was slightly confused and embarassed. «D-Dad? Do, uhm, do I have something on my face?». Chuck didn't flinch and Gabriel was forced to shake his hands off of his shoulders. «Stop it. That's creepy», he said, giggling and running a hand through his hair. Chuck just smiled as he turned towards the door, preparing to go back to his fans. He stopped, though, with his hand on the knob. «Sam Winchester, eh?», he commented. And Gabriel was definitely glad his father had his back turned to him, because his face immediatly turned as read as a tomato. «Oh, for the love of-- stop reading my thoughts!».
Chuck giggled. He was proud of his son, after all.