Work Text:
Statement Prompt:
The end of summer made him nostalgic. He thought of slow, steady rain, humid nights in an old convertible and stars for as far as the eye could see.
The air is thick and heavy with humidity. It’s one of those nights where the air feels like it has weight. It lays a wet blanket on the grass, makes the leaves hang low with dripping water. Gabriel lays on his back, letting the water soak his shirt. The ground is lumpy and uncomfortable. That’s okay, he doesn’t mind, it keeps him in the moment, keeps him from drifting away in the memories.
He can see the car a little off in the distance. The soft baby blue color of the paint looks silver in the moonlight. The windows look ominous and black, like evil could be lurking inside. That’s probably just his mood painting that picture though. His mood how been foul for a long time.
That car, as much as he hates it sometimes, he can’t let it go. The first memories of that car are what keep him going. Some days it’s his only reason to move, to get in that car and remember. He rolls his head, looking at the white wall tires and the wheel skirts. The top is up because it looked like rain, but on sunny days that car was made for long winding roads with the wind in your hair. The hard ground can only hold the memories back so long before Gabriel is lost in them again. He loses focus on the car, and Sam slips into his mind...
Sam was never a big car guy, but when he spotted that car even he had done a double take.
“Where did you get this thing?”
“Oh, you know, just something I snapped up along the way.” Gabriel huffed on his fingers and polished them on his chest, making Sam’s eyes roll. “You like?”
Sam stepped closer, bending himself in half to peer in the window. The car sat low and Sam looked like a giant next to it. “Who wouldn’t?”
Gabriel held out the keys, swinging them in looping circles over the tip of his index finger. “Wanna drive?”
Sam stood up to his full height and looked down at the angel. “I don’t think I’ll even fit in this car.”
Gabriel threw the keys, knowing Sam would snatch them out of the air, and he did. He sauntered around to the passenger side and slid in, the heavy metal door clicking shut. He didn’t bother to answer Sam’s concern. Sam would fit in the car, he’d make sure of it, even if he had to snap the car larger, he would.
He smiled when he saw Sam reach out, he heard the metal sound of the handle being pulled and then Sam slid his long frame behind the wheel. His legs bent at awkward angles, contorting their length as they fit the wheel between them, and then his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “Not as small as I thought it’d be,” his hands gripped the wheel, running around it before he slid the key in the ignition and turned her over. She purred softly back at Sam.
“Yeah, well, that back seat it pretty much useless. Don’t be planning on ravishing me back there, I don’t think we’ll fit.”
Sam chuckled as he slid the car into first gear and pulled her out on the road. “Shut up, Gabe.”
The hunter loved that car, despite how impractical it was. It didn’t hold anything they needed, not much would fit in the trunk, and it annoyed the shit out of Dean that it even existed, but still Sam loved it. He loved sinking down in the passenger seat, the top down, the wind whipping his hair. He’d close his eyes while Gabriel drove, content, peaceful.
Sam loved cruising around, sliding her through the gears with ease. They had no place to be, just him, the car, the angel, and the open road. He relaxed on those trips, let himself breathe. Gabriel could actually watch the weight lift off Sam’s shoulders, he could watch him breathe deeper without the crushing pressure of saving everyone, fixing the world. It was a beautiful sight.
“Sometimes I think you love this old car more than me,” Gabriel teased.
Sam tugged him closer on the bench seat, his strong arm tucking Gabriel into his side. “Technically you’re a lot older than this car.”
He elbowed Sam in the side for that observation, but he laughed too. “Watch it, Sammoose, you don’t want me to give you antlers again.”
Sam rolled his head back, his laugh drifting up into the sky, toward the stars. The stars had probably never heard something as beautiful as Sam’s laugh. The angel knew he hadn’t.
“Man, the stars go on forever tonight,” Sam pressed a quick kiss to Gabriel’s temple, “and I don’t love this car more than you.”
Gabriel rested his head back on Sam’s shoulder. There really did seem to be more stars than usual that night. They probably all came out to admire Sam. “Sure, you say that now. But what are you telling Birdie when I’m not around?”
“Did you just call the car ‘Birdie’?”
“Well, she has to have a name, all good cars do. What do you call her?”
Sam thought in silence for a minute. “I don’t know, I guess I just always think of it as the T-bird. You’re right though, Birdie fits.”
Gabriel had nodded in satisfaction.
And so, when they were alone, Birdie had become a part of them. For hunts or trips with Dean the Impala was their home, but when it was just Gabriel and Sam their home was a 1955 Ford Thunderbird convertible. Possibly the most impractical car in the entire world, and somehow it fit them.
She carried them up the Pacific coast, Sam yelling at Gabriel to snap the top up when a sudden rain would drench them. Gabriel would laugh, snap his fingers, and put Sam in a white cotton t-shirt, and then watch as it drenched through while Sam cursed and tried not to smile.
Birdie had watched on as they stood beside the ocean, an angel and his hunter, and Sam had marveled at the blue.
“Look how clear the water is, I’ve never seen water this blue.”
Gabriel had turned in to Sam, sliding his hands up under his five layers of shirts to find muscle and skin. “Let’s go swimming.”
“What?” Sam shook his head. “No way, Gabe. The water is pretty but it’s not warm enough. Besides, we don’t have towels or anything.”
Gabe snorted. “Don’t give me lame excuses, we don’t need towels with my fancy fingers around,” he pushed at the layers of Sam’s clothing, “and I’ll keep you warm, I promise.”
Sam conceded to Gabriel’s insistence, and Birdie watched over them while they skinny dipped in the clear ocean waters.
She chaperoned them to drive-in movies where Gabriel dropped handfuls of popcorn in the seat, much to Sam’s annoyance. He forgave the angel when he feigned terror and jumped into Sam’s lap during scary parts of the movie though.
Everywhere they went Birdie got long looks and even a few wolf whistles. She was a conversation starter, that’s for sure, especially when they pulled into root beer stands that were probably at the height of their glory around the time she rolled off the assembly line.
Her tires on the road became their soundtrack as they hit little map dots all across the country. Birdie almost came to life with Sam’s big hand at the top of the steering wheel as they tooled down the road. She never missed a beat, never so much as stuttered when Gabriel would sink his foot into the gas and open her up, his hair flying wildly.
Sam shook his head and smiled, leaning back and turning his face to the endless blue sky. “I’d tell you to slow down but I don’t want to waste my breath,” he said, “besides, I guess I can’t get much safer than riding shotgun with an angel.”
Oh how wrong he was.
Gabriel had loved every second with Sam in that car, but true to his nature he’d lived in fear of when it would come to an end. He knew he’d lose Sam someday, he never doubted it. He just never expected it in the way it happened. He figured he’d fuck it up, he always fucked things up after all.
He figured someday, somehow, he’d screw up bad enough and Sam would walk. He’d wise up, realize he was better than this, and move on for good. Because really, when you thought about it, Sam was too good for Gabriel. He deserved better than a fallen angel.
But that’s not how it happened. No, it happened in a much more painful way, a much crueler way.
Gabriel looks away from Birdie, up into the canopy of trees. He’s soaked now, he’s been laying in the wet grass so long. He resents that car because of the memories she holds, memories of things he can’t have, but he loves her too, for the very same reason.
He reaches up above his head and touches the damp stone. It’s so humid that water is sliding out of the letters like tears. He imagines the stone is crying, because everything should cry at the loss of his Sam.
“Miss you, Samshine,” he whispers, “Birdie misses you too.” His hand falls back to his side. He doesn’t ever want to move. He just wants to stay here with Sam. He knows he can’t though, because Cas won’t come to visit Dean if he’s here with Sam, he doesn't want Gabriel to see him grieve. He needs to be alone in his tears, let himself fully feel how much he misses Dean. Cas needs to spend time with Dean just like he needs his time with Sam. He rolls his head to the right. There’s a place worn in the grass from where Cas sits behind the headstone.
“We’ll find you, Dean-o. Cassie and I won’t quit ‘til we do.” He sits up and turns around, touching the winding S with his fingers. “You hear that, Sammich? I don’t know where those reapers took you but we’ll find it.” He shakes his head, blinking at angry tears. “You and Dean keep each other safe until we get there.”
Why had the reapers suddenly decided the Winchesters needed to be out of the picture anyway? Why now? They’d yanked them away without any warning, the ambush had happened so fast, and when Gabriel and Castiel turned around they found bodies crumpled on the ground. The reapers hadn’t just ripped out their souls, they’d ripped out Sam and Dean’s entire being, everything.
So he and Castiel had buried the bodies safely and wasted no time starting their search. But no matter how Gabriel and Cas retaliated, the Reapers wouldn’t give up Sam and Dean. They’d just laugh at the angels and spit through the blood in their foul mouths. “You’ll never get them back,” they’d sneer, “they’re in The Empty. There’s no coming back from there.”
They were all alike, these reapers. So cocky, so sure of themselves. They all said the same things. “The world is better off without the Winchesters. No more cheating the system, selling their souls, being pulled out of heaven or hell or purgatory by angels or demons or whatever is on their side that day. No more coming back without our permission. Never again.”
They were wrong. They were all wrong. He’d get his Sam back, and he’d bring Dean back to Castiel, he just had to figure out how.
“Tortured me a few more reapers today, kiddo. Didn’t learn anything new but I made it interesting, before I killed them,” he glances down at his hands, knowing Sam would have chastised him for that. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me a break though, I just- they took you from me- they took you and I want you back. I want you back so much, Sam.” He blinks angrily at the tears, swipes at them with the back of his hand.
This is stupid. This is all so stupid. He’s an archangel, wherever Sam’s soul is he should be able to snap it up, it should be as easy as blinking. The Empty. Whatever it is, where ever it is, it’s like it doesn’t exist. It’s out there somewhere but it’s nowhere at the same time.
He stands in frustration at his helplessness. He can’t just sit here. He can’t just do nothing. So he walks the warding ring for the thousandth time. He knows it’s holding, he knows Sam and Dean’s bodies are safe, he hid them here and marked the wards himself, with his own grace and blood. Nothing is getting in besides him and Cassie, but he still has to check.
He circles back, his fingers touch the cool rough stone marking Sam’s grave. “Think I saw some rust on Birdie the other day. Pretty sure it’s from all those tears she’s been crying missin’ you,” he glances at the car and wants to smash it. “Don’t worry, I fixed it. She’s good as new. I’m keepin’ her in tip top shape for when you get back.” He kneels beside the granite. “I’m going to get you back, Sam. I will.”
He presses a kiss to the wet stone before he walks back to the car. He thinks about how Sam should be sitting inside, his long arm draped out the window. He can almost hear his voice...
“Come on, Gabe. Dean just called, he’s got a case. We need to head back to the bunker.”
He can see Sam perusing a map on his phone. “You ever been cliff diving? There’s a place not far from here in Wyoming. What do you think, you feeling adventurous?”
“Birdie’s gonna need gas soon, is there a place to stop or do you want to snap it up?”
Sam running his finger over baby blue paint on the dash, around the big gauges. “I love this color,” he said absently.
Gabriel rolled his eyes, not having to try too hard when he pretended to be jealous. “You love this ol’ bucket of rust more than me, Samsquatch.”
Sam looked over at him, holding his eyes seriously. “Not possible, Gabe.”
Remembering those words is like a punch in his gut.
He slides behind the wheel of the car and pulls the door shut, studying those gauges. He loves this car and he hates it. She leaves a hole in his heart the size of Sam, but he can’t let her go. He turns the key and starts her up, looking back at the two graves sitting safely on the hill.
“He’ll be back, Birdie, don’t you worry girl. We’ll get him back.”