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"Hey, Sugar, what's got you down?" the Trickster spoke, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
Much like Sam, you were placed through the same mental torment that he had been, but you- you stopped joining the Winchesters about fifty Tuesdays prior. You figured out early on that it had been the Trickster, which he applauded, but it had not been you that needed to find this out. There was a lesson to be had for Sam Winchester, and you learned it far before he had.
"Well, I mean, it could be that this is the sixtieth Tuesday I've lived consecutively," you mused, though you found yourself leaning your head gently against his own, finding comfort in his warmth.
"And who's fault is that?" He chuckled softly, his whiskey eyes gazing over at you. "You haven't even told the mongoloid that you found out it was me."
"I get what you're doing," you said with a frown, "and though it's unnecessarily cruel, I understand why."
"Beautiful and smart," he complimented with another laugh. "Who would have thought?"
"How much longer is this going to be going on?" You questioned, moving your gaze to side glance at the man's handsome features. "I don't even care to kill you. I'm just kind of exhausted living the same day."
"Who doesn't love Tuesdays, though?" He laughed, amusement clear in each word he spoke. "And I would think you'd enjoy a little break from the two lumberjacks."
"They're good people, you know," you mused with a soft laugh. "Just a little too faithful to one another."
"I know, and I know you care for them, Sugar," he replied heartily, moving his arm off of your shoulder as he spoke. "Don't think I didn't see that self-sacrifice you did towards the beginning."
You rolled your eyes before shrugging your shoulders. "I already know that hunting's gonna kill me sooner or later," you replied. "I'd rather it happened to help someone I cared for."
"That completely screwed up my system, though," he said exhaustedly. "I'm glad you realized what was actually going on."
"Dying once admittedly sucked," you replied with a chuckle. "At least you're not making Dean remember every time he dies."
"Let's do something fun," he said with a gentle smirk, before snapping his fingers.
Before you had the chance to say anything, the two of you were in an arcade that the Trickster made. Your y/e/c orbs glanced over to him, noticing the excited smile against his lips, and you could not help the one that pulled at your own lips. Something about this supposed monster had been understandable to you, and you realized in that moment that he was not nearly as much of a monster as the boys believed.
"So, what's your favorite game, Sugar?" He said with a smirk.
You pointed to the skeeball, your own smirk upon your face. "Shall we, Trickster?" You questioned, an eyebrow raised in query. Your voice held a sense of play in it that just seemed to make the man even more excited.
"After you," he taunted, and the two of you began to play skeeball together.
The two of you played in the arcade for what seemed about two or three hours, starting off with skeeball and then trying out some of the other games. As time went on, he would occasionally throw a question at you to answer. Nothing had ever been too deep, but as if the man was trying to get to know you.
"Time flies when you're having fun," he mused, a confident smirk across his lips. "I do have one last question for you, Sugar. Would you care to spend another Tuesday with me?"
"I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Tuesday," you said with a soft chuckle.
By the sixteenth Tuesday you spent with the Trickster, you were already beginning to grow close to him. You felt almost silly for it, falling for a very smooth, candy-loving monster, but you had been. The two of you had been genuinely enjoying your time with one another, much to his shock.
"Sugar, I have a confession to make," he said, his lips dipping into a frown as he sat across a candle-lit table from you. The two of you had been talking for the last hour about this and that, as if you were just on a typical date. "But I'm only gonna tell you because theoretically I can just throw you back into Tuesday if this goes south."
You rolled your eyes at the Trickster, leaning forward with interest. "I'm not sure you could truly make anything go south by this point," you said playfully, before your voice turned serious. "But go ahead, I'm listening."
"I don't want to lie to you," he said, his tone very serious. "My name is Gabriel."
It took a minute to click, as that clearly was not the name of a demigod. You gave him a surprised blink of your y/e/c orbs before nodding in response. Suddenly, everything made so much more sense to you. "You're not a trickster at all," you mused, before allowing a chuckle to escape your lips. "I should have figured that."
"I'm in witness protection, though, Sugar," he warned sternly. "So you can't tell a soul."
"I wouldn't dream of it," you whispered, as if his fake world would hear. Your hand met his upon the table, moving your thumb gently against it as they connected. Y/e/c eyes gazed at him, almost lovingly as you felt him shift his hand to hold your own.
His lips curled upwards at the touch, whiskey eyes glimmering with something that you had not seen reflected in those eyes prior. As if like clockwork, though, Gabriel's lips dipped down into a frown. "Dean's about to die again," he said, almost morosely. "They always seem to have the shittiest timing."
This day, twenty four Tuesdays later, Sam figured out the ruse. He had, of course, merely found the Trickster and begged for it to just be Wednesday. Gabriel, though, had already warned you that it was coming soon, and that he had more plans than simply turning it to Wednesday.
Gabriel knew that Sam would not learn his lesson that way, after all. Watching Dean die on a Wednesday was nearly heart-wrenching, but as you stood next to Gabriel, you knew it was all a temporary thing. Your heart went out to Sam, though the two of you stood far enough away that he would not be able to see either of you.
"I'm not sure if this is going to teach him anything," you mused as you listened to the aching cries of the younger Winchester. You stood beside Gabriel as your eyes glazed a touch, aching for the pain to just end for Sam, and yet, you didn’t disagree with Gabriel’s motives, either. “It may just make him hate you more.”
“I’m not so sure, Sugar,” Gabriel mused softly, moving his arms to wrap around your waist as his chin rested upon your shoulder comfortably. “It may take a while, but we could have a breakthrough.”
“I hope you’re right,” you replied with a soft, half-hearted chuckle. You found comfort in the archangel’s warmth, nuzzling into his embrace as you watched Sam still screaming, still crying, still absolutely torn. Though you wished to go to him, to tell him everything was going to be okay, you realized through this whole ordeal that they had been fine without you. Even going through Tuesday after Tuesday losing Dean, Sam had not sought you out to attack the Trickster. Neither had Dean, and you realized the only person trying to actually pay any attention to you had been Gabriel. Agreeing with his mindset, you knew it was Sam that had to face all of this on his own. “What do we do until he learns his lesson?”
“Well, I have a few ideas,” he murmured into your ear, a smirk clear against his lips as he moved to press a gentle kiss against your earlobe. “We were getting to know each other, after all, weren’t we?”
“What do you have in mind?” you questioned slyly, blush darkening against your cheeks at the affection.
With a snap of his fingers, he had taken you far away from the life of a hunter, if just for a little while. His little Trickster ways, or maybe it had simply been archangel magic, had conjured up unlimited possibilities for the two of you to spend your days, growing closer and closer to one another. No matter how much you hoped that Sam’s suffering would end sooner than later, you relished in each moment you got to spend with Gabriel.