Chapter Text
Sam is good at poker, but Dean is absolutely crushing him this round. He’s about to throw his hand down and call it a night when John bursts frantically in, grinning wider than Sam’s ever seen him grin before. He’s spattered with dirt and splashed with water, but he looks wild and alive inside. Both brothers look up at him in concern as he closes the door and sets his gun and a jug of holy water on the table. “I got him.”
”What?” Dean leaps up from the table so fast his chair tips backwards, and Sam lets his cards flutter to the ground. There’s only one ‘him’ that their father would be this pleased to capture.
Sam’s whole childhood was spent in search of the yellow-eyed demon, and now that he’s living with his family again, they've been hunting the demon again. It’s been over twenty years since the night the bastard had lit up their house, killing their mother, but it’s often felt like they’re no closer to killing him than they were when they’d been kids. There’s a summoning ritual, but they've been holding out on it until they have a way of actually killing the demon. The trail of the Colt is still cold, but if John’s managed to actually capture the powerful demon, more than half the battle is over.
"He’s in a trap. Dead barn just a stretch from the motel." John sits on the bed, pulls out his journal, and starts scratching. "You can go see him for yourselves, if you want."
Dean picks the chair back up as he reaches for his coat, and Sam sits quiet, debating. He doesn't know if he wants to see the demon ever again, unless it’s shooting him in the head with the Colt.
He’s only caught a glimpse of the demon once, but he understands what his father means now, that those eyes will be burned into his memory forever. Piercing yellow, almost radiating hatred and pride, catching the light of the flames- you don’t just forget that. Especially when the glimpse he’d caught had directly followed waking up to find his girlfriend pinned to the ceiling, dripping blood.
Things could have ended a lot worse. He’d had his pistol, and he’d fired a frantic shot at the yellow-eyed figure in the doorway: just enough to drop his concentration and let Jess fall back to the bed, clutching her stomach. As Sam watched, flames billowed up from where she’d been a second ago, and he’d half-carried, half-dragged her out of the burning house. He didn't see Yellow Eyes slip out, but the demon hadn't been there when Sam looked back.
The one look from those eyes, though, was enough to keep him up at night, trembling and clutching the sheets. He’d had moments of terror when he felt the empty sheets beside him, before he remembered that Jess had called it quits and gone home. Sam doesn't blame her. The fire incident was just one more secret, one more weird thing he refuses to explain, and she can’t live with it any more. She’s safer that way, at least. She deserves that. Seeing those eyes again sounds like a good way to generate more nightmares: about Jess, about childhood he’d hoped to escape, about figures in doorways smiling wickedly at him as he slept.
Still, seeing the demon trapped might provide some soft of reassurance. He pulls on his coat and follows Dean out the motel room door.
———
They've been hunting this thing for years. So Sam hates, hates to say it, but the demon in the devil’s trap is definitely not Yellow Eyes. He wants so badly to believe that it is, as he and Dean stride towards the lit portion of the barn, and reminds himself that vessel means nothing. This poor man, much shorter, younger, and blonder than the demon he’d seen, is just an unwilling vessel who Yellow Eyes is using to hide, Sam repeats to himself.
It’s the posture that throws him off, though. Yellow Eyes leers. He smiles and he watches the world with a strange twisted greed, and he would definitely be watching the two brothers approaching. This man stands, arms crossed defensively, head down, at the back of the demon trap.
"Vessel is new," Dean remarks. "Bet shortstack here is easier to take down than whoever he was wearing last time."
"I’m not sure this is the same demon."
"One way to find out," Dean remarks as he saunters closer. The demon is pressed against the back wall of the trap, avoiding both their gazes. "Come on, hellspawn, let’s see that face." Not-Yellow-Eyes doesn’t move, but Sam can’t tell if it’s out of defiance or fear.
Sam moves to the side of the trap for a better look. The demon slowly turns his head to lock eyes, scowling, letting Sam see that it’s a bit of both: he's angry but he's terrified. The vessel is- or was- a real looker; he’s got golden brown eyes, a prominent nose, and a bit of stubble.
Seeing that Sam’s made eye contact, Dean says “Christo” from the other end of the circle. The demon’s eyes flicker, but not to black like they should. Instead, they’re a vibrant yellow-gold, like amber, or those glass bottles of maple syrup Dean used to love as a kid.
"Looks pretty yellow to me," Dean decides, voice trembling a little. "We got him, the bastard."
Sam looks up at him, shaking his head slowly. “Definitely not human, but definitely not Yellow Eyes. I’m sorry, Dean.”
"What do you mean?" The demon’s eyes have returned to human, and he’s taking interest in the argument going on between the brothers.
"I’ve seen Yellow Eyes, up close and personal, and this is a different demon. His eyes aren't the right shade of yellow, and-"
"Oh please, Sammy. Right shade of yellow my ass, they’re yellow, aren't they? And Dad says this is the guy we’re looking for.”
"Dad says a lot of things," Sam mutters under his breath.
"Don’t start on this," Dean says, looking more tired than anything else. "Please."
"I’m just saying, Dean, I saw him too, and more recently than Dad did. This is the wrong demon."
"You know what? Dad’s been searching for this guy-" Dean jabs one finger towards the demon, who turns his nose up in offense- "for our entire lives. This could be our chance at actually getting him peace for once. Even if it is the wrong guy, one more destroyed demon in exchange for Dad coming home sober for once?" Dean shakes his head, eyebrows up. "Hell, I call that a godsend, and I’m not even a believer."
There isn't a good reply to something like that. Sam watches as Dean heads back towards the barn door, muttering something about heading back to the motel for a shower before bed. And then the door closes, and he’s left with the demon in the circle.
Sam stands quiet for a few moments, then awkwardly turns to the demon next to him. “You aren't Yellow Eyes, are you?” It’s phrased as a question, but there’s no expectation of an actual answer.
"Look, bucko," the demon snaps, "I don’t know who the hell ‘Yellow Eyes’ is, but could you tell daddy dearest to cool it with the holy water? It’s not exactly a nice warm shower."
"I’m… sorry?" If the demon’s talking, he might as well dig for answers. "Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"
"I can’t exactly stop you, can I?" He leans against the invisible side of the trap with one shoulder, resigning himself to more of Sam’s words, apparently. Sam takes it as a yes.
"Are you possessing a person?"
"Nope, I sprung outta hell just like this. Don’t need a meatsuit, unlike every other demon in existence.”
Sam sighs. Whoever this demon is, he’s not letting his fear get in the way of being a sarcastic little bitch. “Is your human vessel still alive, is what I’m asking.”
He’s rewarded by a smug little grin. “Oh, I know. I’m just messing with you. I bet you’re fun, when you’re not making that face at me.”
Sam continues making said bitchface. “Are you gonna make this easy on me or not? Because I’m trying to help you.”
"Help me? Ha!" There’s an edge of fear under his mocking tone. "Handsome, there’s no way you can help me at this point. Your family’s gonna tear me to shreds, and you’re probably gonna help."
"If your vessel is alive, then I have a decent excuse to exorcise you."
"And send me back down there? Noooo thank you. I got out a few months ago and I am never going back.”
They watch each other a little longer, almost sizing each other up, mentally. “Vessel. Alive?” Sam finally asks.
"Nope. I’m not a fan of sharing headspace." When Sam doesn't say anything, the demon continues, "He was already most of the way dead when I climbed in here.Last thoughts were "Shit, I’m dying, what the hell is this smoke about, oh I’m dead.’ Bullet to the gut does that to a guy.” The demon lifts his shirt a few inches, revealing a half-scarred over wound. “I managed to fix up the body a bit, but the soul was long gone. Didn't get a name, but he’s a bit of a drifter, so I doubt there’ll be searches.”
That’s the most the demon has said to him, and Sam stands there for a second, processing the information. “Do you have a name?”
"Does it matter?"
"Just… being friendly."
"Oh, being friendly!" The demon pushes himself off the invisible wall and crosses the trap so he’s only inches away from the edge. "I know you only mean well, kid, but you’re a hunter. And in my experience, hunters don’t know the meaning of the word friendly, especially not to things like me."
"In our defense, things like you usually aren’t up to any good."
"I know." The demon doesn’t back down, but he looks like he wants to. "I avoid ‘em myself, usually. But I’m innocent here."
"You can’t honestly expect me to believe in an innocent demon." Sam crosses his arms, glaring down at the golden-eyed demon. He knows from other hunters’ testimonies and his own experience that even the most well-meaning of demons aren't afraid to hurt and destroy to get what they want. At worst, demons are ruthless, and at best, they're still ruthless, just ruthless in the pursuit of better things.
"Okay, okay, not innocent exactly. I definitely smited the asshole who killed my vessel. And, you know, some other people who had it coming. But I’m talking about this whole… burned your mother thing.”
Sam swallows. “That was Yellow Eyes. I believe you.”
"Look, I’m sorry about it, kid. I lost my mom young too. But you've got the wrong demon."
"Do you know who the right demon is?"
His demon turns away from the circle’s edge. “I might. I might not. Before I tell you, you have to get daddy-o to promise me a little something.”
"Come on!” Sam protests. “He won’t do it, whatever it is. He doesn't deal with demons. And the sooner I can hunt down the real demon, the sooner we let you go.”
"Like I’d ever be dumb enough to believe you’re gonna let me go."
"I keep my promises," Sam mutters.
"As do I." The demon turns back to face him again. "It’s the rules. We make a deal, I can’t back out of it."
"Okay, so we make one, then. You help me figure out who the real yellow-eyed demon is and find him, and I make sure they let you go."
"And how do I know you don't send me smoking straight back to hell when you have what you want?"
"You're just going to have to trust me."
Gabriel tilts his head, looking Sam over, trying to determine if he's telling the truth. "What’s in this for me?"
"We don’t gank your sorry ass." Sam states.
The demon considers for a moment, then adds, “Alright. But one, no more holy water down my throat. And two? When you let me go, you tell no one about me, got it? Hell’s keen on having me back.”
"Do I get to know why?"
"Maybe. If you’re good." The demon steps as close to the edge of the trap as he can, then raises his eyebrows suggestively at Sam. "Come on. Let’s seal this mother. Get the show on the road!"
"Seal?" Sam asks, scanning his knowledge bank for how deals of the non-soul-selling kind are sold.
"With a kiss, yes. Just a peck will do, Pretty Boy."
Oh. Sam would be lying if he said he objected to kissing this demon’s pretty vessel, but… it felt weird, kissing someone for the purpose of business arrangements. It's been a while, too. Jess has been gone for nearly eight months now. Deal-making with demons isn't exactly the best way to get back out there, but it's a start, right?
He reaches across the line of the trap, and the demon takes his wrist and tugs him closer. “You got a name?” Sam asks breathlessly.
"Gabriel." The demon’s other hand has come up and is cradling Sam’s jaw. "When I was alive, they called me Gabriel."
The demon- Gabriel- leans up towards Sam, and Sam pulls back nervously. “You promise there isn't some kind of secret, soul-stealing clause to this?”
"Not even authorized, Bucko," Gabriel reassures. "And I wouldn't do that, not after what happened to me."
"You sold your soul?"
"Shut up and put your mouth on me."
Sam obeys. And while he’d been told just a second ago that a peck was all he needed, Sam isn't one to do things halfway. He closes his eyes and pours his all into their kiss, dragging the hot breath from the demon’s lips. He pulls out of Gabriel’s grasp so he can fist both hands in the golden hair and tug; they’re pressed together, Sam craning his neck down and the demon craning his neck up, and Sam doesn't want it to end, even though their deal is long ago signed and sealed. He’d expected this to taste like sulfur, but he’s pleasantly surprised- Gabriel is warm but human. Sam traces the inside of Gabriel's upper lip with his, tentatively at first, then again, eagerly, when the demon parts his lips to let Sam in.
It's passionate and oh-so-hot; the demon kisses wildly but intimately, as though he wants to know every detail of Sam's lips just through the touches of his own. His hands have slid down from caressing Sam's face to hold his shoulders, but even there they explore, running over the seam of Sam's jacket. Sam finally jerks back when he has to breathe, the demon’s teeth scraping against his lip as he relinquishes the touch.
"So we have a deal," Sam gasps out, smoothing down his unruly hair.
Gabriel’s wide-eyed, his thin lips pink and shiny, his own hair tangled where Sam's fingers slid through it- meaning Sam did that kiss exactly right. The demon nods, slowly. “I’ll say.”