Archive of Our Own

Sam’s reading a book - for leisure, something he’s taking advantage of being able to do now that Lucifer’s locked back in the cage - when Gabriel pops into the room, landing on the bed beside him. It’s nothing new and Sam doesn’t even blink at the intrusion on his personal space, just turns to the next page and waits for when the Archangel gets bored with being ignored for a book. He does blink, however, when Gabriel speaks.

"I like you, Sam."

His head whips to the right but Sam doesn’t get the chance to otherwise react before Gabriel’s hand is up, snapping him out of the room just as abruptly as he’d flown in. He blinks and snaps his jaw shut, blinking again. It isn’t unusual for Gabriel to leave him speechless or to drop crazy bombshells on him but an Archangel admitting to liking him takes the cake. He snorts at the thought and how it just brings him right back to the candy-loving Archangel.

Still, he can’t help but wonder what the point of the angel’s latest joke is.

A couple days later Sam still hasn’t figure out what Gabriel was trying to accomplish. But he’s focusing on a case, pouring over newspapers and trying to figure out who the vengeful spirit in this town might be while Dean and Castiel are out questioning witnesses, when Gabriel shows up again. Sam looks up from his papers and leans back a little, smile forming at the sight of his friend when Gabriel grips the back of Sam’s neck and pulls him up until their lips meet, practically crashing together. The angel settles over Sam’s lap, thighs bracketing his own, until Sam can feel the heat of Gabriel’s erection pressed against him. A broken moan as the angel licks further into his mouth brings Sam back to reality and he finally realizes what’s happening. Pulling back, he grips both of Gabriel’s arms and leans back into the cushion of the little motel couch he’d been doing his research on before the angel snapped in and decided to play tonsil-hockey with him.

Gabriel groans but lets Sam’s hands hold him back, though the hunter knows Gabriel can push forward easily in his grasp. He doesn’t want to be holding the Archangel away from him. Wants the opposite, to pull him closer and run his hands through hair he’s subconsciously always imagined is soft to the touch. But he can’t do it. Not when they could never work.

Even if this isn’t just some trick to mess with Sam again, Sam needs something more than whatever relationship he could possible have with a Trickster-Archangel. Not that he believes the sex would be anything short of amazing, but that’s all it would be - all there could be between them from what he’s ever known of the Trickster. Gabriel might get sentimental about past flings, as he’d been over Kali back at Motel Hell, but he doesn’t stick around.

"I can’t do this, Gabriel," he says when he’s settled his thoughts enough to speak.

"Of course you can, Sammy. Just gotta let go of my arms so we can get back to the making out."

Gabriel pushes forward but Sam tightens his fingers around the surprisingly tone arms beneath his hands. "I’m serious." He looks up, meeting incredulous amber eyes and forcing himself not to lower his own. They can’t do this, can’t be together when there wouldn’t be anything more.

Weight lifting from his lap, Sam watches Gabriel lean up and away from him. "So I see," Gabriel says softly. He sounds disappointed, but not surprised and it strengthens Sam’s resolve that this wasn’t anything more than Gabriel thinking that he liked Sam and that he might be good entertainment for awhile.

"I’m sorry, I just - "

"No need to explain, Sasquatch," Gabriel interrupts as he shuffles out of Sam’s grip and off his lap, easygoing smirk back in place when he’s standing.

Sam lets out a breath but nods. The angel takes the seat beside him and looks at the papers spread out across the table. "So, need any angelic assistance?"

With a small, relieved smile that nothing seems different, Sam bends down to pick up what he’s collected so far. "That’d be great."

Gabriel’s lips stretch in the facsimile of a smile, not-Sam’s laugh surrounding him until he’s unable to do anything but. It’s a sound that is so familiar and yet so seldom passes through its true owner’s lips, rarely bubbling beneath the surface. Hidden within a broad chest until there is no other option than to release it or explode. Gabriel cherishes each laugh he can draw from the youngest Winchester but he doesn’t manage it as often as he’d like, even now that the Apocalypse is over, averted.

But the Sam lying at his side, head pillowed comfortably on Gabriel’s lap like it belongs there, laughs freely, without a care. How Gabriel thinks Sam might sound now had Azazel not forcibly ripped him away from his life at Stanford. He wishes he could get Sam back to some semblance of that - not change him, but get him to realize that it’s okay to relax, to start enjoying life again in a way he hasn’t since Dean made that deal, since Jessica died, since everything. Maybe the Winchesters can’t stop being hunters - though Gabriel has his suspicions about the elder Winchester brother and a certain Thursday’s angel becoming more and more tempted to finally settle down - but that had never stopped the boys from making their own fun before Hell and Lucifer and the angels.

Sam - but not Sam, never really Sam - turns until he’s on his back, legs stretched out over the extra long, striped couch that Gabriel never actually snapped up but had found its way into the room anyway, and smiles up at the Archangel. The real littlest Winchester has no idea about this place and yet everything he could want is there all the same. There is no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that Sam would have picked them out if given the chance. Sam raises one of his hands up, warm where it cups Gabriel’s cheek. "You all right, babe? You’re quiet tonight." Hazel eyes watch him, searching his face closely.

Smiling back, lips twitching further to the right as they attempt a smirk, Gabriel holds his own hand over the one on his cheek. The concern crinkling Sam’s brow eases slightly at the contact and disappears altogether, lines melting away with a roll of his eyes when the angel speaks, "Just coming up with some new pranks to pull on that Neanderthal you call a brother." His tone is light, teasing, and Sam breathes a chuckle as he sits up, hand still firm against Gabriel’s face. Their lips meet, soft and warm and mostly chaste but for a faint swipe of tongue that glides over the angel’s bottom lip. A small shiver runs through his body and the Archangel refuses to think about how his reaction is nothing compared to what it could be if this was the real Sam rather than an almost-perfect copy. There’s no use dwelling on what he knows he can’t have.

Gabriel smirks when Sam pulls back, letting go of his hold on Sam’s hand to push some slightly disheveled hair behind the man’s ear. Sam grins, just as sweetly as Gabriel knows the real Sam would if given the attention he deserves - if he’d just give Gabriel a chance. Then the man is shifting, laying his head back in Gabriel’s lap, eyes on the television in front of them once more.

Gabriel will always want more than this, will always long for that bright soul. But sharing his home - their nest, really - with a copy of whom that soul belongs, is as close as he can get. And he’s willing to cling to it as tight as possible.

Wrapping one arm across Sam’s chest, Gabriel’s other hand resumes it’s gentle petting of the dark mop of hair and he forces himself to focus on the here and now - on what he can have.

Castiel watches his brother closely. Gabriel, while as loud and mischievous as ever, has been behaving strangely. Castiel can’t help but be concerned; the Archangel is the only one of his brothers to take his side. The only one who backed him up in the battle for humanity. When the Apocalypse was stopped and Castiel worried he would lose Gabriel - sure the Archangel would go back to his more solitary existence - his brother stayed. Took him aside and assured him they would always be family and Gabriel wasn’t going to leave him again.

He hunts with the Winchesters, plays tricks on all of them - harmless, of course - and has become ever more a part of their group than he’d been during the fight against Heaven and Hell.

Somehow, though, he’s different now. Gabriel leaves them more between hunts. It isn’t very odd that his brother enjoys time alone after being accustomed to it for so long. But Castiel has a feeling he knows where Gabriel is spending that time; so much like Castiel had done when on his own and in need of that feeling of security - safety an angel can find nowhere else - not even in Heaven.

But the Apocalypse is over, no threats looming over them any longer, and Castiel is left wondering why Gabriel suddenly feels the need to go to his haven. As far as Castiel is aware, the Archangel never used it even in the rare moment of downtime between fighting Lucifer and Zachariah and every angel and demon between. The Winchesters could be trying - Dean especially but Castiel has his own way of dealing with his human, ways that more than make up for his behavior - but they are loyal allies and had been more than welcoming when Gabriel made his decision to stick around.

At least, he’d wondered over the reason until he truly looked at Gabriel for the first time since the Archangel offered to join their side and fight the good fight. Too much time spent nearly fallen and Castiel had become used to only looking at the surface unless it was necessary to dig deeper - still does so now. But he finally looked at his brother, assessed the blinding grace of an Archangel and that was when Castiel saw it.

Gabriel’s grace shines no dimmer than it should, not really. But something is missing; a piece that would be found and patched into place - become whole with Gabriel - when he and his true mate come together as one.

He can think of no one that could possibly be Gabriel’s mate - his other half - but Castiel wishes his brother would find the one who is made for him. The Archangel deserves having a person to carry some of his weight, to lean on when things become too much for him. What Castiel has found in Dean. Someone always able and willing to help or listen or set him straight.

And he’s determined to help his brother find this being.

Since Castiel made the decision to help Gabriel find this person, the one who would make him whole, he starts noticing the wayward glances his brother shoots at Sam. The way the two fit so well together despite their rocky past. And how Sam watches Gabriel just as much as Gabriel watches him, trying to figure the Archangel out, but without any of the suspicion or fear one might hold when in the presence of the same creature who had killed his brother over a hundred times, a creature with enough power to smite entire cities with barely a snap of fingers. The two had seemed to form an easy companionship when Gabriel joined their group; researching together, keeping the other sane while Castiel dealt with Dean and vice versa.

A look into Sam’s soul - still bright even after all the tearing and shoving from Heaven and especially Hell since he was so young - and Castiel knows his suspicions are correct. Within Sam’s soul shines a piece, brighter than any human soul could be and most definitely not human.

Sam is the one meant for his brother, for Gabriel. And the Archangel is using his haven - one meant to be shared - to hide from it. It makes no sense to do such a thing and Castiel has never heard of an angel avoiding their mate in the past. Especially Gabriel, who has never been afraid to go after someone he truly wants. Castiel can’t think of a reason for Gabriel to hide from Sam unless he’s already been refused. But even that possibility is hard to swallow because soul mates can only stay apart for so long. So if Sam did refuse any advances, the question on Castiel’s mind is: why?

When Sam comes to him for answers, - Hey, Cas... Do you know where Gabriel goes when he isn’t with us? - Castiel knows his urge to explain everything is one he needs to restrain. But his brother is miserable, locking himself away when instead he should be sharing his newfound, post-Apocalyptic freedom with Sam, with Castiel and Dean. More than the distant way he had been dealing with them recently. And Castiel needs to do whatever he can to help Gabriel be happy again - be himself again.

Nodding in answer, Castiel sits across from the youngest Winchester. Concern for the fourth member of their group bleeds through his words, clear behind the curiosity in Sam’s voice and evident in the furrow of the man’s prominent brow.

Maybe it will be easier to bring these two together than he’d originally assessed.

"Yes, Sam. I am aware of where my brother chooses to spend his time."

Sam seems to perk up, eyebrows rising expectantly and Castiel continues, halting his words to sound hesitant and keep his eagerness to share this information with the man who needs to hear it most undetectable. "Gabriel often frequents his... haven, I suppose you could call it."

"What’s that?" Head cocked to the side, Sam looks across at the angel eagerly, like he knows how important this could be for him. But then, maybe something in their potential bond is calling out to him and telling him just that.

Or he’s merely being curious, as Winchesters tend to be. Castiel isn’t concerned with the reasons behind Sam’s need to know, is only glad that it will make bringing two mates - two of the three beings in the whole universe he is closest to - together and allow them to share in the contentment and happiness he’s known since completing his bond with Dean.

"It can be any number of things, but it is essentially a place specifically made for the angel who inhabits it. A place where we can go that is safe and secure from others."

"But..," Sam pauses and Castiel waits patiently as his friend chooses his words carefully to form a question he’s been expecting since he decided to explain this to Sam. "This haven. All angels have one?"

Castiel nods.

"If it’s so safe, why didn’t you ever take Dean and Bobby or anyone there when we needed time to regroup?" His voice holds no accusation and Castiel is irrationally proud that this human he calls friend trusts him enough to know that his actions must have reasons behind them.

"Only a select few are granted access to an angel’s haven in order to give us a place that is truly impermeable to those who might tarnish it."

Sam nods his understanding even as he bites his lip, as though more questions threaten to burst from him and Castiel wonders briefly why John Winchester never just answered his youngest’s ‘why’s’ when the young man before him is generally so content in just knowing. Even then, that was probably one more push from either Heaven or Hell in getting Sam to follow Dean’s lead in starting the Apocalypse. Ruby had been one of the few willing - by all appearances, at least - to help Sam and get him the answers he so desperately craved.

"Why is he spending so much time there now?"

There’s something in Sam’s voice Castiel can’t place. Almost like when the younger Winchester feels guilty - maybe it’s that the angel doesn’t know what he feels guilty for. "He hardly ever left when we were fighting the Apocalypse. I’d think he would have wanted to get away then. Not now that the worst we have to deal with is a skinwalker or a ghost that needs putting to rest."

"I think," Castiel starts with genuine hesitance. Coming out with the real reason - the admittedly assumed reason - is something he knows he can’t do. It occurs to him that Gabriel might have stuck around back then in order to make sure his mate was protected from their brother and now that the immediate danger is locked back in his cage, Gabriel feels he doesn’t have to be here every moment. Aside from that, Sam won’t react well to being told who he was truly meant to be with. Forever the rebel, but also still damaged from the manipulations of Lucifer when the fallen angel attempted to convince Sam that they were made for each other. "I think that my brother felt... obligated to stay through the fighting after his supposed weakness in running away - "

"That’s ridiculous. He couldn’t handle the pressure and having no one listen to his needs back then."

"I don’t see it as weakness either, Sam. But beyond that, I think he was being protective." Sam lifts an eyebrow in question. "Lucifer was upping his attempts to get you to listen to him, to say yes. Dean was slowly losing his hope and I was nearly powerless to help either of you. Gabriel stayed by our sides constantly in order to keep us safe."

Understanding dawns on Sam’s face, eyes growing slightly wider. "Now the Apocalypse is over, he can take that time for himself again."

Nodding, Castiel watches as Sam seems to struggle saying something more.

"He’s still going to be sticking around though, right?" The words are spoken with a forced casualness both Winchesters are so good at but Castiel can see right through. But he understands Sam’s need to act like he doesn’t care, like this won’t affect him. He’s lost too much in the past that he’s allowed himself to become attached to - including Dean more than once.

"I believe so, yes. If he’d wanted to go back to his life as either Trickster or Archangel, he would have done so when we won."

The tension in Sam’s shoulders visibly relaxes and a breath punches out of him as if he’d been holding it in.

Sam rolls his shoulders, barely glancing at Castiel as he thinks over what he’s learned.

Is it his fault Gabriel feels the need to lock himself away in his haven, somewhere completely impenetrable?

No, he decides quickly. He runs a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Cas."

The angel nods as he stands, pausing before flying off, wing beats trailing after him.

It couldn’t have been because of Sam; he knows better than to think he ranks that high on an Archangel-turned-Trickster’s list. And Gabriel hadn’t even been upset about Sam’s rebuff of him that day. The day Sam has only spent two occasions thinking about - all morning and all night. It hadn’t exactly rattled Sam but it’s difficult to not recall that... whatever it was. Knowing the Archangel, it was probably all just a ruse. A game that Sam had decided he wasn’t going to play. Couldn’t play. Yet, the feeling of fleeting warmth, the weight of Gabriel on top of him, is a constant memory.

Still, even now that he knows where Gabriel snaps away to nearly every day, Sam can’t rein in his curiosity. He doesn’t want to look too closely at the ‘why’s’ of it, but the Archangel had become one of his best friends through the Apocalypse. He had Castiel and will forever be grateful for their friendship, but it’s always been clear that Cas and Dean are a duo of their own. When Gabriel joined the team, Sam had someone there to talk to who wasn’t his brother or his brother’s angel. Or the devil. And the Archangel was always ready with a smirk, a joke, and a candy bar on the days Sam needed it most.

Now Gabriel is going somewhere Sam can’t follow, somewhere he isn’t invited and he can’t keep denying that it hurts. Just a little. Like he’s lost the only friend he’s made in years - since joining Dean to take out a woman in white in Jericho, California - and he doesn’t know how to convince that friend to stay.

"Rise and shine, princess!"

Sam groans and rolls away from the incessant nudging of his brother’s boot against his ribs.

They have a new hunt to get to, what looks like the first group of demons they’ve seen since they won and Dean’s more excited than he has any right to be. But Sam supposes his brother is hoping to dish out a little payback now that they don’t have any bigger fish to fry. And he can’t say that he blames him for it; if anyone deserves to do that, it’s Dean.

He slides out of bed, dodging a well-aimed kick and giving Dean a punch in the arm for his trouble before locking himself in the bathroom.

Dean’s out when Sam comes out of the shower, probably getting coffee or breakfast to fuel up before finishing their research. His brother’s absence at least explains the lack of pounding on the bathroom door that usually follows a dig about Sam wasting the hot water even when Dean’s finished showering for the day.

Grabbing clothes to change into, Sam pauses when his hand brushes over something smooth and warm to the touch. He hasn’t put anything new into his duffel in longer than he cares to dwell on.

It’s small and deceptively heavy given its size, sitting flat against his palm in a perfect circle; a golden compass of some sort. The arrow - shaped strangely like a trumpet of all things - spins lazily in a perfect circle, never slowing or landing in a specific direction. Goosebumps run up his arm and Sam flips it over, holding it between his fingertips to figure out where it could have come from when he sees a symbol - more like two symbols interconnected - engraved into the back of it.

Before he can do more than recognize it as what he thinks is enochian - it’s been months since they’ve had to deal with the ancient angelic language and he hasn’t actually committed the letters to memory - Dean barges through the door, arms laden with bags of what smell like pancakes and a cup holder carrying two coffees. A newspaper is tucked under his arm.

Placing the mystery compass back into his duffle, Sam turns and grabs his coffee, taking a huge gulp before putting it down and settling in to finish going over the details of the case. He’s curious about the compass, wants to know where it came from and how it ended up in his duffel but he can’t seem to work himself up to feeling worried about it, like it’s somehow familiar to him. And the angels of Heaven have stopped messing with them - with the exception of Gabriel’s pranks - since God came into the picture and sent Lucifer back into time out. He’ll ask Castiel if the angel can translate the enochian etched into it when he gets the chance.

The good thing, Sam decides as the angels appear in the room that morning, about fighting what could potentially be at least ten demons - even with the knife and Colt, those still aren’t good odds - is that Gabriel is joining them on the hunt. He always helps out, even with the smaller hunts - unless Dean feels the need to prove they can do it on their own, which happens more and more often since they’ve started hunting the smaller gigs again - but this time Gabriel insisted that there was no way he’d let them ‘have all the fun’.

The Archangel flops down on the too-small couch - and Sam wishes wistfully about someday finding a couch long enough to accommodate him, even if it’s just a pipe dream - with a smirk on his face. Sam barely notices the way Gabriel’s feet land carelessly in his lap. He’s too focused on smiling so wide his face hurts in greeting before going back to cleaning Ruby’s knife, avoiding the feet in his lap without a thought.

"Hey Gabe," Dean says, barely looking up from where he’s cleaning the Colt at the table that currently holds most of their hand held weapons. It looks like they’re getting ready for a battle, which Sam thinks they’ve had more than enough of in their lives.

"Hey there, Deano." Gabriel’s smirk turns triumphant when Dean snaps back with, "Don’t call me that."

With a chuckle that Sam didn’t realize he missed - it’s been months since they’ve interacted outside of hunts, not counting when the Archangel kissed him - Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Stop calling me Gabe and I’ll consider not calling you Deano anymore."

Sam has to set his rag down to stifle a snicker behind his hand and even Castiel is smirking at Dean glaring as though they haven’t had this exact same argument a million times before.

The muffled sound of a laugh shoots through Gabriel’s entire being, zinging through his grace and it flares out unnoticeably by the Winchesters. Castiel shoots him a look but Gabriel pointedly ignores it in favor of enjoying his victory. He got Sam to laugh; the real Sam. It may not have been open and loud and carefree the way he still yearns to pull from the tallest Winchester. But it was real and Sam is still smiling.

"So how many are we looking at here?" Gabriel leans back against the arm of the dinky little couch - he tries to push thoughts of a couch large enough for one gigantor sized human out of his mind - and links his fingers behind his head. It’s only the fact that he isn’t human that keeps him from reacting when Sam reaches forward to set the knife he’d been working on down and one of Sam’s hands lands thoughtlessly over his ankle. The human doesn’t even seem to notice that the fingers of his left hand are currently wrapped around Gabriel’s ankle right above his sneakers, but Gabriel does.

The smirk on his face never twitches and Dean seems as oblivious as Sam but Gabriel feels Castiel’s eyes on him for the second time since he’d gotten here. He knows his brother is concerned about him, always knows when Castiel is watching him, but there’s nothing he will say to explain what’s happening with him.

"Looks like ten demons. Maybe more," Sam interrupts his thoughts and Gabriel’s eyes focus on the human’s face as he speaks, "There’ve been at least three deaths and each of the homes had traces of sulfur when Dean and I finally got a look at them."

Gabriel whistles lowly. "Good thing you’ve got angels on your shoulders, huh boys? Let’s go smite some black eyed sons of bitches."

This time Sam rolls his eyes, but Gabriel counts it as a win anyways.

Sam - who knows he isn’t really Sam - hums to himself as he chops the pecans he’d toasted earlier into bits on the cutting board. Music blares out from a boombox up in the large garden window where light shines through, illuminating the room enough that there’s no need to switch on any of the overhead lights.

Gabriel had gone to be with the real Winchesters this morning and not-Sam hopes the Archangel will finally do something, finally tell the real Sam how he feels, because the angel deserves to be happy and whole. Not-Sam wants nothing more than for Gabriel to be happy and while he does his best, there’s no way he can be what the angel needs. Amber eyes that so often sparkle with mischief watch him while they’re together and not-Sam always sees the anguish behind them. Sees the longing, the wish that what they have was real instead of something Gabriel created with a snap of his fingers.

But until his Archangel gets the real Sam to see him, to watch him back and realize they’re made for one another, not-Sam will do his best to make Gabriel as happy as possible. That means being himself, being the man Sam could have been if his life hadn’t been pulled him so many different directions - and could still be if he gave Gabriel a chance. Laughing during a funny movie and rolling his eyes at the angel’s crude humor and cuddling together on the too-big sofa - but never going further than some chaste and not-so-chaste kisses because Gabriel can’t seem to let himself go further with anyone but Sam, even if that anyone is a well-made copy.

And tonight it means finishing the brownies he’s chopping the pecans for. Gabriel might not have the real Sam, but these brownies will be real and not-Sam wants to see the gorgeous smile he loves so much become as genuine as he can make it.

Nearly two hours and twelve exorcised demons after the four of them met up that morning, Sam trails Dean into the room. His shoulder is sore and probably already bruised from his earlier impact with a bookshelf and Dean’s trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a limp. Gabriel’s sprawled out across the couch looking for all the world like he hadn’t just fought off more than his share of demons - and then some.

Rolling his shoulders, Sam winces before kicking the Archangel’s legs off the couch and making space for him to sit. Castiel stands from his seat at the table and immediately follows Dean to his bed, badgering him until Dean allows his angel to heal his injuries. When a disgruntled Dean acquiesces, Castiel places a hand on Dean’s arm - where Sam knows Castiel’s handprint is still burned into the skin - and a moment later the pained creases on his brother’s face melt away. His brother’s angel looks over at Dean, blue eyes flicking briefly to the Archangel beside him.

"We will return later."

Which he knows means they’ll be back tomorrow and Sam would smirk at the slightly embarrassed look on Dean’s face - as though he and Cas have ever been sneaky - but he’s too tired and sore so he only nods and a moment later the two are gone.

His shoulder throbs again and Sam winces, rolling it in attempt to loosen tensed muscles. The warm pressure of a hand on the back of his shoulder causes him to start but Gabriel just chuckles at him. "Chill out, gigantor." Sam sits back and relaxes into the touch as the pain slowly recedes until he’s sure any evidence of his collision with that bookshelf is gone as though it had never happened.

"Thanks," he says in the quiet of the room, tired after the last of his adrenaline rush drains out of him.

Gabriel lets go of his shoulder and sits back against the arm of the couch. "No problem, kiddo."

It’s almost embarrassingly comforting to hear the nickname - not pet name, because they aren’t together and would never be - slip past Gabriel’s lips and Sam wants to relax back into their usual easy banter but the room is quiet again, awkward in a way it’s never been between them after Gabriel joined their group. They hadn’t had the chance to talk about anything other than their case and Sam misses how the two of them used to hang out after a hunt, Gabriel snapping them away to someplace quiet where he could relax or just sitting together in the motel room watching bad movies while Dean was out getting a drink or away with Castiel.

Instead, all too soon, Gabriel is standing from his seat and smirking down at Sam. "Well, it’s been fun. See you around, kiddo."

And this time even the nickname isn’t enough to make him feel better. Gabriel doesn’t even give him a chance to reply before he’s snapping away.

With a sigh, he stands up and heads for the bathroom, stripping down before starting the shower. Having the bathroom to himself is a small relief. No Dean around to call him ‘Princess’ or yell at him for hogging all the hot water.

It’s only when he’s climbing into the tiny stall, luke-warm water pounding against his chest, that he realizes he never got around to asking Castiel about the compass in his duffel.

Dean’s still gone when he comes out, unsurprisingly. Without anything pressing to take care of now that they’ve finished this hunt, Sam doesn’t pull on more than some clean boxers and an old tee. He lays down for lack of anything better to do, still tired even after Gabriel healed his injuries, and Sam’s left alone with only his thoughts. He hates feeling like this, like he’s alone even when he’s got a brother who doesn’t hate him and friends he would give his life for and is sure would give their lives for him. It’s remarkably similar to how he’d felt back before Gabriel joined them, only without the added weight of Dean’s distrust on top of it and he suddenly wishes he had his friend back.

Before he’s even finished the thought, a dim flash of light in the corner of his eye catches his attention and Sam sits up. Golden light emanates from the duffle between their beds and Sam reaches for it, brows crinkling in a combination of confusion and curiosity. It isn’t until his hand comes into contact with something smooth and warm that he realizes it’s the compass. He still can’t believe he managed to forget to ask Castiel about it, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. His brother and Cas are still wherever it is they disappear to when they want time alone together and Sam knows from experience not to bug them unless it’s an emergency and the familiarity he feels when holding this trinket, so unlike the feelings he’s gotten whenever he’s come into contact with cursed or dangerous items, tells him this doesn’t count.

The trumpet-shaped arrow - he can’t help but be reminded of Gabriel when he looks at it and he ignores the way the warmth against his palm reminds him of Gabriel’s touch as the Archangel healed his shoulder - spins fast, no longer going in the lazy circles of that morning, and he watches in wonder as it stops, pointing in the direction of the door.

He’s up and off the bed, pulling on a clean pair of jeans and over shirt before grabbing his hoodie. In seconds Sam is ready to go, boots on, and he scribbles a note saying he’s going out - just in case his brother comes back sometime before tomorrow, though he doubts it - before grabbing his room key and rushing out the door.

Once outside, the arrow spins again before pointing ahead and to the left and that’s all the encouragement Sam needs to follow its directions further into the city. He doesn’t stop - apart from the few times the arrow directs him across streets - until he’s looking up the driveway of a white, two story house that shines in the afternoon light. It has large windows on both levels, curtains pulled to the side like whoever lives in it wants as much of the afternoon’s bright rays to get into the house as possible. The driveway is empty of cars out front, though he wouldn’t be surprised to see some expensive vehicle hidden away in the garage, something that matches the rich feeling of this almost-mansion. It’s like something out of his dreams back when he was a teenager and always planned to get out of the family business and build a normal life for himself and he doesn’t deny the odd pull he feels to walk the rest of the way up the driveway until he reaches the door, glancing through the front window automatically.

Gabriel leans up and smiles against the warm lips pressed against his own. "Heya, Sammy," he breathes as he pulls back, looking up into twinkling hazel eyes. They’re almost perfect, the shade just right and the differences would be unnoticeable to any human - even Dean who knows everything about his brother.

But the soul underneath is wrong. It’s not real, just a copy that Gabriel wove himself to make this nearly perfect imitation come alive. It still glows as brightly as Sam’s soul, the same fire and spark lighting it within, but it’s not as familiar. Nowhere near as old as the soul that calls to the Archangel now, and has for longer than he cares to think about.

A long arm wraps over his shoulders and Gabriel chuckles but goes willingly when he’s dragged across the room until they’re standing in the kitchen they don’t need but his Sam insists they use. "What are you up to, Sasquatch?"

The dimpled grin he receives in response is impossible not to match - in width at least; Gabriel’s vessel is sorely lacking in dimples - and it only grows when Sam leans down to steal another kiss. Then he’s off, grabbing a box from the cupboard above the bright white microwave on the large granite counter.

"You know what we’re going to do today?"

Gabriel shakes his head, legs dangling above the ground when he hops onto the island counter behind Sam. He watches his human pop something into the microwave. "No, but I get the feeling you’re going to tell me."

"You’d be right about that." Sam laughs, turning and shimmying his way between Gabriel’s legs. Warm hands grip his hips and the Archangel raises an eyebrow in anticipation. "Why don’t you enlighten me?"

"We are going to sprawl out over the couch and watch bad movies all afternoon. Maybe even all night."

"We are, are we?"

Sam nods before practically bouncing to the microwave and grabbing what Gabriel finally recognizes as a bag of popcorn when the machine beeps shrilly. "Now I see why you dragged me into this ridiculous room," he teases, laughing when Sam rolls his eyes.

"Be nice. If you don’t behave, I won’t tell you where I hid the batch of fresh brownies I made today in this ‘ridiculous room’."

In a blink, Gabriel is lying lengthwise across the couch. "What are you waiting for slowpoke? We’ve got bad movies to watch!"

"Cheater!" comes Sam’s call from behind, but soon enough the man is shoving his way onto the couch, laying in front of Gabriel until his back is firmly aligned with Gabriel’s chest.

In moments like these, with his arms wrapped tightly around this warm body, it’s easier to pretend this is enough for him.

Sam blinks, which takes more effort than usual with his eyes bugged as wide open as they are. The compass thrums in his hand, still glowing a bright gold that doesn’t manage to reflect on anything around it. His heart races in his chest, quick thumpthumpthump pounding in his ears as he watches, unseen, the scene before him.

He doesn’t think he’s seen Gabriel smile like that - genuine - since they realized the Apocalypse was derailed. Maybe not even then.

Which is not what he should be focusing on at all.

But Sam doesn’t know what to think. Gabriel is apparently spending his free time in a large house that’s practically taken straight from one of Sam’s dreams with some sort of Sam clone. He’s always assumed that if, and when, Gabriel snapped people into existence - outside of doling just desserts - they would end up doing something more... NC-17. The Archangel’s own personal Casa Erotica. Not laying together on a couch - that’s large enough for both of them - and watching a flat screen television like there isn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just helped them kill dozens of demons.

Neither of the house’s inhabitant notice him standing outside the window and Sam figures they won’t notice him leave, either. With one last wide-eyed look at the pair, Sam turns and walks away, ignoring the sun in his eyes and the painful tug in his chest, the compass’ thrumming easing in intensity with each step that puts more distance between himself and that house.

Gabriel catches movement outside the window and he slides his eyes lazily over to see what is interrupting his movie-time, freezing when he sees the silhouette - a very large, very familiar silhouette - of a man walking quickly away from the house.

Sam had found him. He doesn’t know how, though he probably shouldn’t be surprised considering the brothers managed to end up in the city Gabriel’s haven had materialized itself this time around. Just large and populated enough that it has all the shops Sam might need but still as comfortable as the small towns they drive through all year. Exactly the type of town the haven’s mortal inhabitant would choose if he was settling down.

But Sam had seen him. Seen them. Lounging together on the couch watching B-movies with a bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table in front of them, a smear of greasy butter streaked across his Sam’s cheek from when he’d tried to steal the popcorn away from Gabriel a few minutes earlier. And the real deal had walked right up to the house and looked in the window and is walking back to the poor excuse for a motel the boys are staying at this time. He might not tell Dean what he’d seen, but how are they going to get past this? It’s not as though the human can unsee it, not like Gabriel can change that because even though he has the ability to take memories away, there’s no way he could bring himself to use it on anyone in their group. His new family. Especially not Sam; Sam with his history of being jerked around and manipulated by everyone he seemed to come into contact with.

He doesn’t know how to handle any of this, so instead of dealing with it head-on, Gabriel decides to do what he does best. Ignore it now and deal with it later. He tries to relax and turn his attention back to the movie. Of course, his Sam is a copy of the real Sam - which means observant to the nth degree - and knows something’s up within seconds.

Curious hazel eyes look up at him from the spot on his shoulder Sam has claimed as his pillow.

"What’s up, babe?" he asks before following Gabriel’s gaze to the window - because apparently Gabriel hasn’t been as successful at keeping his attention on the television as he’d hoped. Sam looks back at him, knowing glint in his eyes, and sits up straight, taking his head off Gabriel’s shoulder to turn and look at him head on.

"S’nothing. Just thought I saw something..."

"Uh huh. And since when does ‘nothing’ leave you looking like a deer caught in the headlights?"

When he doesn’t say anything Sam continues softly, "It was him, wasn’t it?"

Frozen for the second time in a matter of minutes, Gabriel wonders how Sam, even a copy of the original, is one of the few beings in existence that can drive him to speechlessness. When he turns wide eyes on Sam, the human just smiles fondly and shakes his head in exasperation. "So what are you still doing here, you idiot?" he asks affectionately, no heat behind the words.

Gabriel blinks. "What?"

Sam rolls his eyes fondly, a ‘what am I going to do with you?’ expression if Gabriel ever saw one. "I said, what are you still doing here?" he repeats slowly and Gabriel would scoff at his human treating an Archangel-slash-Pagan Demi-God like a five year old but concedes that it’s probably necessary in this instance. He’ll let Sam get away with it. Just this once.

"What does it look like I’m doing, Sasquatch?" he finally answers, hiding behind the Trickster-façade he’s perfected over the centuries. The look in Sam’s eyes tells him the man knows just what he’s doing.

"Letting the love of your life - put your eyebrow down before your face sticks that way, it’s the truth and you know it - walk away without even trying to go after him and get the real thing over the imitation you’ve been living with for... far too long."

"I dunno," Gabriel leers, pushing Sam’s hair back behind his ear, "The imitation is just as good." Sam leans into the touch and returns it, placing one of his hands on Gabriel’s shoulder with a small shake of his head.

"It’s not and you know it isn’t. I know it’s hard, that something’s holding you back. But did you ever stop to think maybe Sam needs you to go after him just as much as you need to go after Sam?" His hand slides up from Gabriel’s shoulder to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing lightly just under his eye and Gabriel sighs, a little sadly, knowing the man in front of him is right. Hiding away in his haven is cowardly and he’s been a coward enough for all his lifetimes and more.

"How are you so perfect?" Gabriel can’t help but ask, tilting his face into the warm hand that’s so large on his cheek.

Sam shakes his head with a small smile. "I’m anything but perfect, but you knew that when you made me. Now go after him, duke it out, whatever. I’ll still be here if it somehow doesn’t work out."

Then the hand slips from his face and Sam urges him to stand with a nod, tilting his chin up. With a sigh, Gabriel stands, reminding himself of all the times he’s gotten through rejection in the past - most recently with the real Sam when he’d last kissed the human for real.

Just as he’s about to snap away, walls building inside him against whatever he’s flying into, Sam wraps his fingers around his wrist and looks up at him from where the man is still sitting on the oversized couch. "It will work out."

"Oh yeah, how can you be so sure?"

Sam shrugs, lips twitching up in a small smile at the corners as he lets go of Gabriel’s arm. “Just because you snapped me up doesn’t mean I don’t know how the real Sam thinks. I know I don’t act like him, that I’m not really him. But I know him better than you think and he’ll listen to what you have to say. You’re not the only one feeling a little insecure.” Then Sam winks and Gabriel takes that as his cue to leave.

With a heavy sigh, Sam sits on the lumpy couch in their motel room, compass clutched tightly between shaking fingers as he tries desperately to think over what he’d seen and how it makes him feel. The room suddenly feels too small, cramped, but he has nowhere else to go. He’d practically sprinted the rest of the way back to the motel and didn’t know whether he was upset or grateful that Dean was still gone, would be for the rest of the day and into the morning. Now he has the room to himself and it’s almost too much.

He’d wanted to be the one sitting next to Gabriel, sharing that carefree moment in time without the stress of hunting and his past weighing down on him. Sam hadn’t let himself dwell on just how badly he wanted to be with the Archangel because when Gabriel had kissed him, it wasn’t more than wanting to pass the time. Couldn’t have been more than that because Gabriel doesn’t do relationships and Sam’s learned that he can’t handle sex without becoming emotionally attached. Not if he’s being honest with himself - something he’s been trying to be more of since they’d saved the world and he refuses to become anyone else’s pawn ever again.

Getting up, Sam hurries over and grabs his laptop from its case before reclaiming his spot on the sofa and starting up the computer. They don’t have any more hunts lined up but Sam needs a distraction and the crappy little TV in front of him doesn’t look promising. The laptop is just booting up, the shrill almost-melody blaring from the speakers, when he hears a faint rustling and feels the weight of eyes on the back of his head.

Gabriel showing up is the last thing Sam needs to deal with. How is he supposed to act around the Archangel when he still isn’t sure himself how he feels about what he’d seen? Beyond the fact that he wishes it could have been him sharing the house and the couch and the laughter. But there’s nothing he can do about it now because the Archangel is there.

"Hey Gabriel," Sam says, unsurprised to find his voice slightly uneven, though thankfully it doesn’t crack the way he’d feared. He eases back in his seat, the fingers on his right hand twitching over his laptop while his left hand wraps tightly around the compass that’s started thrumming again, lazy spin slowing until it’s pointed somewhere behind him, glowing with unnatural warmth against his palm.

The Archangel doesn’t answer right away and just as Sam is preparing to turn around, ask what’s wrong - because what could possibly be wrong, the angel obviously has everything he wants - when a brush of fingers at the back of his neck leaves him frozen. He finds himself turning into it, just barely, when his hair is pushed gently back. It’s been so long since he’s felt a touch that soft, not even Ruby had managed to pretend that well - though it was still good enough to fool him. A shiver runs down his spine before he can help it, soft breathy sound rushing past his lips and Sam doesn’t know what’s going on; just that this needs to stop before it goes any further because this isn’t supposed to be happening.

Gabriel lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding - not that he needs to breath, but still - when Sam pushes back into his fingers and shivers at his touch. The reaction is a lot more promising than he’d been expecting - than he’d prepared himself for - and his confidence rises from dismal to somewhere closer to moderate. Maybe the other Sam had known what he was talking about. Not that Gabriel plans on giving either Sams the satisfaction of knowing when they were right about anything - he’s as bad as his big brother; another thing he never plans on mentioning to the gigantor.

Suddenly Sam’s pulling away and Gabriel lets his hand fall back to his side, unsurprised. He’d heard Sam’s heart speed up at the touch and remembered the other Sam’s words. The real Sam may be willing to hear him out, but there are issues to deal with before they can get there.

Sam sits up ramrod straight in what could pass for an impressive impersonation of Castiel any other time. Gabriel walks around until he’s standing in front of the human who somehow managed to look small and curled over even when in such a rigid position. It isn’t a look he likes to see on the littlest Winchester, as though the weight of the world is still somehow on his shoulders even after all he’s done for that world already. Sam avoids looking him in the eyes, gaze closer to his shoulder, and Gabriel wants to feel those eyes on him the way he’s been spoiled with by his imitation of Sam Winchester. Glittering brightly with mirth and, if not love, then at least something positive instead of this nervousness.

He takes a deep unneeded breath, preparing himself for the conversation to come - the one he knows he has to initiate - and focuses all of his attention on Sam. Leaning forward, Gabriel reaches a hand out and places it on Sam’s shoulder, feeling the man’s body tense at the touch in a reaction completely opposite to just moments ago. Had he been human, goosebumps would have travelled up his arms at the contact and Gabriel gently squeezes his fingers, rubbing small circles to get Sam to look up at him. Finally, confused hazel eyes - closer to blue tonight than Gabriel has seen them before, though he isn’t sure whether it’s reflecting Sam’s mood or the Dad-awful sea-green wallpaper of the Winchester’s latest motel room - peer up at him. The caught, almost-scared look reflects every emotion Gabriel feels swirling within himself and it goes a long way to easing the fear of rejection he’s been harboring for so long. He knows this is worth it, that the possibility of being with Sam after all they’ve been through is well worth the chance that Sam might still be opposed to it. But first he needs to make Sam understand that he thinks they should be together. That this is more, means more, than anything else ever has to Gabriel.

"You know, I meant what I said that day."

Sam’s obviously not expecting what Gabriel says, eyebrows pulling down as he frowns in confusion.

"You didn’t think I was being serious about liking you, about wanting to be with you. Maybe you thought it was a prank or - "

Understanding lights in Sam’s eyes, frown lines smoothing out as his eyebrows lift slowly from their turned down position. Sam starts shaking his head, blinking quickly like he’s trying to make sense of what’s being said. Then he stops, interrupting Gabriel as he looks up at the Archangel with narrowed eyes. "You don’t do relationships."

It’s Gabriel’s turn to blink, and he does, once, because where had Sam gotten that idea? The words are truer than the hunter could realize, though not at all how Sam meant them, Gabriel is sure. There is a reason Gabriel doesn’t do relationships. He can’t. He could only do relationship. One, singular. And the one he wants that relationship with is now the only thing standing in the way of what they could have together. Poetic, almost. Something Gabriel - the Trickster - would have appreciated back in the day.

But he knows for a fact that Sam remembers Kali - Goddess was all hands and passion but still nothing compared to the, apparently clueless, hunter before him - and he wouldn’t put it past, as Dean had so affectionately named the littlest Winchester, the walking dictionary of weirdness to have looked up Trickster mythology after their previous encounters. Where did he come up with the conclusion that Gabriel doesn’t have relationships?

"Come again?" Gabriel asks, just barely getting a word in before Sam continues, talking quickly like he doesn’t know how to stop now that he’s gotten started.

"You don’t do relationships, Gabriel. And, I mean, that’s fine. For you. You can have your flings and cre-" he pauses, just slightly before continuing, "create whatever playmates you want and it doesn’t have to mean anything but I can’t do that. I’ve tried, but I’m not programmed that way because it doesn’t work for me. It’s not me. Not what I need and I just couldn’t... Couldn’t be another fling."

As though it’s somehow possible that Sam could ever be just a fling.

Sam’s eyes follow Gabriel’s movement as the Archangel sits down beside him, laptop disappearing from its spot with barely a thought. Gabriel slides his hand slowly from the man’s shoulder to cup the back of his neck and before Sam has the chance to protest Gabriel leans in to press a chaste kiss to slightly parted lips. It’s barely a peck and doesn’t last nearly long enough - nothing could ever be long enough with Sam short of eternity - but he doesn’t want to scare the human off. Gabriel sits back, still keeping his hand on Sam’s neck. "Listen Winchester - and listen well, I’ve never been a fan of having to repeat myself so I’m only gonna say this once. I love you, kiddo. I tried to ease you into it, but have you ever tried to get anything through that Cro-Magnon skull of yours? It’s not easy. Believe it or not, it’s true. You’re the one I’m meant for. I’d say ‘you complete me’ but that’s not my style. But that doesn’t make it any less true. So, there is it. What say you?"

He puts as much sincerity behind the words as possible, but can’t help adding his own personal flair. Sam has to know what he’s getting into, after all, and there is no getting rid of the Trickster in him. But Gabriel meant every word and he needs Sam to hear him, really hear him because there is no way he’s going to let Sam turn him away thinking the Archangel considers him nothing more than a potential fuck-buddy. Gabriel’s eyes are drawn to the man’s tongue as Sam licks his lips, what looks more automatic than intentional.

"You..." Sam starts hesitantly, his voice quiet and small in a way it rarely is, but filled with what Gabriel thinks might even be burgeoning hope and belief, "You love me?"

"What did I say about repeating myself, kiddo?" Gabriel says with an exasperated roll of his eyes, but nods seriously when he meets Sam’s eyes again.

He’s rewarded with a small smile, Sam’s lips stretching up slowly. It isn’t the wide grin he always longs to witness, but it’s a start. And it’s better than the confused frown the human had been sporting just moments before. Gabriel lifts his hand off of Sam’s neck to brush a wayward lock of hair behind Sam’s ear, fingers tangling in it loosely when the hunter doesn’t move to pull away but rather pushes into the press of fingers against his scalp.

"I saw you with..." Sam trails off, but still doesn’t pull away and the Archangel takes that as a sign that his not-Sam was right and this really can work out.

"I know." Hazel eyes widen in surprise and Gabriel smirks playfully. "But do you really think I’d magic up my own yeti if I didn’t want it - you - us to be real? Gimme some credit, Sammy. I’d have preferred someone more on my level if that was the case."

It gets the response he’s hoping for; Sam throws his head back and laughs. Sam’s hand lands unthinkingly on his thigh, long fingers wrapping around it much like they’d held his ankle before and Gabriel’s grace swells all over again, only this time he feels the answering swell of grace hidden in Sam’s soul as the human opens up to their bond without even realizing it. His smirk melts away until he’s grinning wider than he had even with his imitation of the hunter beside him. When Sam finally lowers his head, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, the corners crinkling with the force of his smile, he chuckles out breathlessly, "Your level, Gabriel? What? You mean like pixie size?"

Unable to even fake indignation, Gabriel wonders over how much brighter Sam’s soul shines behind his eyes and doesn’t try to stop himself from leaning forward and stifling the incessant giggling still coming out of his human’s mouth with a kiss decidedly less chaste than before. Laughter morphs into a startled moan that Gabriel swallows down as he licks his way into Sam’s mouth. Then Sam rushes forward, tangling both hands into Gabriel’s hair, a dull thunk going unnoticed as the Archangel decides he wants to feel Sam’s hands in his hair as often as he wants to run his own through Sam’s.

They both pull away, Gabriel’s eyes drawn to pink, spit slick lips that he can’t wait to feel against every part of his body. He watches in a daze as Sam sucks air into oxygen deprived lungs, content to stay this close to Sam forever, until something bright catches his attention. On the floor beside the couch is a trinket of some sort, glow dimming from the flare it flashed when their lips had touched.

Curious, Gabriel tilts his head. Feeling the hunter’s eyes on him, he leans down and reaches for it, silently despairing the way Sam’s hands slip out of his hair. "Where did you get this, Sammy?"

Sam looks down at the compass now in the Archangel’s hand. His breathing is back to normal and the glassy look in his eyes disappears as he readjusts his focus, shrugging. "It was in my duffel this morning."

Sitting back, Gabriel holds the compass between his fingers.

"Why?" Sam asks quietly, leaning almost infinitesimally closer to Gabriel that he doesn’t think he’d notice were he human. "Do you know what it is? I was gonna try and ask Cas about it today but didn’t get the chance before he took Dean and flew off after the case."

The Archangel almost snorts, because of course he knows what it is. Not that he could truly expect Sam to know, especially when he’s had no time to research yet - though there probably isn’t much to find about it.

There is no way Sam could have gotten ahold of the compass on his own, especially without any knowledge of what it is, where it points. The arrow - a trumpet, his symbol - points straight at Sam and he feels the way Sam looks between it and him, confusion pouring off his human in waves. So the question is: how did Sam manage to find it in his possession?

The answer comes to him almost immediately. Dean wouldn’t have had any way of finding the trinket at all, even if he’d known what he was looking for. But Castiel could. Castiel, who’s been watching Gabriel so closely lately, was cataloguing each of his arrivals and departures and reactions to Sam. He isn’t surprised that his brother knows what Sam is to him, what they could mean to each other. But that doesn’t give him an excuse to meddle - even if it has worked out. Nosey little brothers.

"Castiel, get your butt down here." Gabriel pauses, ignoring the confusion plain on Sam’s face while he waits for a response. "Now."

Wing beats sound through the room and a moment later Castiel is standing across from them. Blue eyes widen almost imperceptibly, probably at the close proximity between Gabriel and his mate - who has yet to know that that lovely little title. Finally they land on the compass in Gabriel’s hands and the Archangel lifts it up with a flourish, nearly tempted to say ‘ta da’ with the movement. "Any idea how this came to be in little Sammy’s possession?"

Lips tightening, Sam gives Gabriel a withering glare at the nickname, shoving him with a broad shoulder, but looks at Castiel in interest. Castiel gazes intently at the floor, eyebrows pulling down as he looks away guiltily.

"Why did you give me this, Cas?" Sam asks, attention focused solely on the trench-coat clad angel standing across from them. Gabriel’s little brother shifts on his feet, body just barely swaying with the movement, as he tries to find the words to explain. Then he’s standing straight and holding his ground as though he’s about to go to battle. Gabriel doesn’t blame him; if Sam had reacted any differently to Gabriel’s confession, then Castiel’s meddling would earn nothing short of an explosion.

"You wanted to know where Gabriel went when he left you between hunts," Castiel starts in his gruff voice. Gabriel looks to Sam in surprise to find a slight blush rising in his cheeks at Castiel’s admission. "You were curious even after I’d explained our havens to you." Gabriel shot his brother an incredulous glare - he’s more than happy that Sam hasn’t turned him away after finding their haven, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t miffed over Castiel sharing something so private, even if it was with Sam. "I merely gave you the means to find it on your own."

"I thought only certain people are allowed into an angel’s haven?" Sam asks, back in his default mode: researcher geek. Gabriel would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so nervous about Sam’s reaction to whatever Castiel says next.

"That’s true. And under normal circumstances, humans shouldn’t even be able to see an angel’s haven let alone the compass that guided you there - "

"But you Winchesters always gotta find a way around the rules, don’t you?" Gabriel interjects with a smirk, ruffling Sam’s hair and doing an inner - completely un-Archangel-like - fist pump when Sam bats his hands away absently with a small smile on his face. His brother looks entirely too smug at the display but Gabriel figures none of this would be happening if it wasn’t for Castiel so he’ll let it slide for now.

"So," Sam starts, giving Gabriel a pointed look that clearly states that Gabriel better quit trying to mess up his oh-so-stylish do or else, "how come I was able to use the compass? It led me straight through town, right to the door. And, I mean, it pointed at Gabriel when he flew in here and at me when he picked it up."

Bright blue eyes focus on Gabriel with the intensity of a high powered laser and the Archangel rolls his eyes inwardly, wondering whether it’s Sam’s influence or if that is just the effect his brother has on him. But he knows he should be the one to drop this gem.

"The only ones who can see a haven’s guide and the haven itself are the few who can enter it. And even with a few select angels, like little brothers," he casts a meaningful glance to the brother he’s become the closest to in millennia through the Apocalypse, "that’s a short list. Only one person, or being, or whatever who isn’t immediate family can enter an angel’s haven."

Gabriel forces himself to meet Sam’s intrigued gaze. "Mates, Sam. That angel’s mate is the only other being allowed to find their haven. Because it’s meant to be shared."

Sam eyes widen, mouth dropping into an ‘o’ in surprise and Gabriel braces himself for the explosion. One he is more than prepared to deal with.

And one that never comes. What comes out of Sam’s mouth causes the Archangel to blink in confusion, even though he understands the words perfectly.

"Guess that explains the couch, hell the living room that seemed like it was ripped straight from my dreams, huh?"

Gabriel sits in shock, vaguely aware of Sam’s fingertips tickling down his arm until their hands meet, fingers curling together like two pieces of a puzzle, before finally stuttering out, "A haven is made up of bits and pieces from both of its inhabitants’ wants and needs so they never have to worry about anything while they’re there. Just another way it’s made to feel safe."

"So what does the engraving on the back of the... guide mean? I thought it looked like enochian, but I haven’t actually memorized it all, you know?"

Gabriel looks down at the compass in his free hand, eyes darting to where his and Sam’s are connected, and takes in the engraving. "S and G."

"For our names?" Sam’s eyes are big and his soul is still shining brightly, even moreso when Gabriel nods. "Yup."

"So, this haven. Does it have a big kitchen?"

A startled laugh rumbles through Gabriel’s throat and he shakes his head incredulously at this forever unpredictable human, all the tension he’d built over Sam’s reaction melting away in the face of Sam’s easy acceptance. Then the question sinks in and he rolls his eyes, "Yes, Sam. Though honestly, I don’t think we’ll have much need for anything but a certain room for awhile. I hear a king sized bed calling us, Sammy, and it would be rude to ignore it when it’s been so lonely for so long."

A deep blush floods Sam’s face and neck - probably because they aren’t alone in the room, though Gabriel isn’t fazed by his brother’s presence - but his eyes darken, pupils already growing and his hand tightens over Gabriel’s.

Throwing a wink in Castiel’s direction, Gabriel smirks, "Don’t wait up, bro."

And with a snap, they’re gone.