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It wasn’t fair that Mary Winchester had told Dean that angels were watching over him, and had sold Sam to demons in return for his father’s life.
But that was the story of Sam’s life, wasn’t it?
When Dean was considering saying “Yes” to Michael, an Angel of the Lord had kicked his ass, effectively telling him he and his ideals were worth too much to give up. When Sam had decided to say “Yes” to Lucifer, everyone had sadly let him go, understanding it was an acceptable sacrifice.
When Dean went to Hell, Castiel had brought him back, rebuilding him piece by piece, forging that profound bond. And granted, when Sam went to Hell, Cas had tried to save him, but he hadn’t even noticed that he missed Sam’s soul until after the fact.
Really, truthfully, Sam understood and had long ago forgiven Cas for that. He wasn’t even jealous of his brother, not really. He loved Dean, and he wanted every good thing in the world for him. He really wasn’t even in the mood to wallow in self-pity tonight. He’d honestly rather get laid.
Which was why it was so fucking annoying to be alone in this motel room at two in the morning, trying desperately not to listen as his watched-over-by-angels older brother loudly fucked his very own angel. To the point that the wall behind him began to physically shake.
Especially when he couldn’t help thinking how much he’d like a certain angel of his own.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling off the covers. This was not working.
He had two options: go for a walk and hope they were done by the time he got back, or sleep in the Impala. As his legs had long ago become too long to comfortably pull off the latter, he grabbed his jeans from the floor and decided on the walk.
New York was cold in February, especially up here where they were only separated from Canada by a few miles of land and a gigantic lake. Even in his warmest coat and boots, Sam started to freeze almost as soon as he left the motel. It was a relief and he reveled in it; there was no way he could think of sex in weather like this.
And ever since Gabriel had come back, Sam thought of sex a lot. The archangel had reappeared slowly by harmlessly pranking them every now and again. After a while, it became a veritable plague of pranks, almost daily. But then one day, they had found themselves in over their heads with a couple of shifters. Sam didn’t know what had been going through Gabriel’s head before that, but apparently all his plans had changed right then, and he had appeared to save them.
Of course, as soon as they saw him they realized what had been happening, but they were relieved enough that he wasn’t dead and that he had saved their asses that they didn’t complain about the tricks he had played.
And then, just like that, the pranks were gone and they had a second angel tailing them. This one was around a bit less, certainly, and almost never helped with anything unless he had to. Or, at least that’s what he told them; Sam noticed the extra blankets in his motel rooms on cold nights, the odd book that just happened to have the exact information he needed appearing at the top of his research pile, the sudden clearing of a storm that night when they had to rush cross country to get to Bobby. But just because he noticed didn’t mean it was wise to point it out.
Sam crinkled his nose, and realized it was already numb. Other things were going to start to freeze too, soon, if he wasn’t careful.
He picked up his pace, hoping to keep warmer with movement. The light of the motel dimmed behind him, and the road was dark, but he wasn’t concerned. They had already dealt with the spirit haunting this town, and Sam was pretty sure he and his hidden pistol could take care of anything else he might encounter.
Maybe if Gabriel wasn’t always around, messing with him, he wouldn’t notice so much. Before the archangel had joined them, when Dean and Cas had just gotten together and he was just getting used to the luxury of booking his own room every night, he had taken his fair share of partners back to the motels with him.
But in the last few months, that had become impossible. At first when he tried, Gabriel would inevitably barge in before anything happened, or stay too close to him at the bars they frequented for him to even strike up a conversation with a likely date.
And now? Well, even nights like tonight, when Gabe was on his own taking care of Trickster business, Sam didn’t really feel up to it. Strangers at bars just didn’t have the appeal of an archangel/Trickster/friend. And isn’t that the best – who would have ever thought that after the Mystery Spot, Sam would ever consider Gabriel a friend?
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets violently; even with his gloves, he could barely feel his fingertips anymore. He looked back and still saw the harsh red and yellow motel lights dimly down the road, close enough that he still didn’t want to turn around yet. Despite the cold, the thought of going back to his empty room filled him with dread, especial if he didn’t know if Dean and Cas were done yet.
Besides, the cold wasn’t really that bad. After all that had happened in the last year, being numb was novel, enjoyable even. It was hard to concentrate on his loss, or his guilt, when he was worried about moving fast enough to keep his toes warm.
Guilt. Gabriel laughed at him when he mentioned it, told Sam that there was nothing he’d done that would warrant a Trickster’s interference, never mind true holy wrath. And he should know, he’d say so low and wistfully that Sam had to believe him, because he had been an archangel once, and he knew these things.
Sam sighed. It all came back to Gabriel, didn’t it? He kicked at the gravel, suddenly annoyed with the road itself for not giving him the means to get the archangel out of his head.
The road was truly dark now, lit only by the half-moon above, the nearest streetlamp so far away it might as well not exist at all. That probably meant it was time to turn around.
Sam took a deep breath and turned back on stiff legs. He knew he would pay for this with sore muscles in the morning, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.
The walk back was rougher than he remembered, that stiffness in his muscles making it harder to traverse the loose gravel and uneven pavement at the side of the road. He found himself watching his footing so closely in the dim light that he didn’t have any energy to think of their (not really at all) reformed Trickster.
Same figured he was about halfway back to the motel when his foot slipped on a loose piece of pavement at the edge of the road. He wasn’t prepared for it, and he couldn’t correct his balance with his cold, sluggish muscles. Before he could really process what was happening, his ankle twisted under him and he was careening down the ravine beside the road, choking back a surprised shout.
The spark of pain that raced up his ankle was soon eclipsed by the blinding jolt of his head connecting to a rock when he hit the ground. He rolled a few times, hitting his head again, and then a third time on a sharper, taller rock. He hissed in pain, and the icy air that raced into his lungs hurt, too.
He could feel blood dripping down his forehead to his temple, and he knew he was in danger of passing out. And if he did, he was going to die.
It was almost funny, he thought as the world twisted around him and the edges of his vision began to blur. After all he had been through – the apocalypse, Satan’s cage, everything – he was probably going to freeze to death because of a late night stroll. He was going to pass out, and then he was going to freeze, and no one would even know why. Not Dean, not Cas, and not even Gabriel.
He blinked rapidly, trying to keep himself awake. He had to stay awake, get up, get back to the warmth of the motel and take care of his leg and head. He tried to push himself up with his arms, but even rising to a sitting position made his head spin enough to drop back down to his back immediately.
Gabriel, he prayed desperately, hoping the archangel would hear him, find him despite the Enochian symbols on his bones. It wouldn’t be the first time.
And then he grasped futilely at consciousness, knowing it was a battle he had already lost, as true darkness engulfed his vision.
…
Sam didn’t actually expect to wake up, so the act itself vaguely surprised him. As did the gentle kiss he felt pressed into his hairline.
His surprise was quickly chased away by his whole body convulsing in a violent shiver, which caused his ankle to erupt in a renewed burst of pain. Once he got past the pain, he noticed steel-strong arms around his waist and shoulder keeping him pinned where he was; and that his head was resting on something warm and soft instead of cold, rocky ground.
“Sorry, Sammy, I know warming up hurts,” Gabriel’s voice floated above him, soft and careful, the way he was sometimes when Sam was the only one around.
He opened his mouth to answer, but another violent shiver racked his body, and Gabriel tightened his arms around him. This time, he was able to brace his leg enough to avoid another stab of pain, though his head banged painfully against Gabe’s chest.
“Gabriel?” he managed after a moment’s calm.
“Guilty as charged,” Gabriel answered, and Sam could hear a smile in his words.
“You saved me?” Sam asked. It hurt to talk, with his chest sore from the fall and now the shivering.
“Course I did, kiddo. You called.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sam whispered before bracing himself for another shiver, this one milder than the last.
“Not sure you’re in a position to be calling the shots here,” Gabriel told him cheekily. Then, more seriously: “Relax. We can talk when you’re warm.”
Sam hummed his agreement before carefully opening his eyes. They were back in his motel room, with some minor adjustments. Gabriel had installed a wood-burning fireplace for the night, where a large fire was cheerfully crackling away. They were on the solitary queen bed, which seemed to be softer than it was when he left, with updated bedding.
For his part, Sam was just about swaddled in a large comforter, laid out and held in Gabriel’s lap. His boots and outerwear had been removed and piled on the room’s single chair, but he was still in the warm flannel and crisp jeans he had put on before his walk.
His head didn’t hurt anymore; Gabriel must have already healed it. But he could feel dried blood flaking on his forehead, so the archangel must not have had time to clean it. That would explain why his ankle still hurt; he probably hadn’t noticed the relatively minor injury.
Sam recognized another shiver coming, so he closed his eyes and braced his head against Gabriel’s chest and his hurt ankle against the bed. This one was much less fierce than the last two, and he barely moved in Gabriel’s arms.
They laid there quietly for a few long minutes, Sam drinking in the warmth from the fire and Gabriel holding him steady as his shivering faded and eventually ended.
When it was clear that Sam wasn’t going to convulse again, Gabriel relaxed his arms and started tracing patterns over Sam’s scalp with his fingers. From the tickling sensation, he could tell the Trickster was banishing the dried blood and dirt slowly instead of with one quick snap like he usually would. It was nice, almost sensual.
“What the Hell happened to you, Sam? And what were you doing out there alone?” he asked eventually.
“Taking a walk,” Sam answered simply, opening his eyes again to look up at Gabriel. The warmth of the room was making him sleepy, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to talk about this right now.
“At almost three in the morning?”
“I could hear Dean and Cas through the wall,” Sam told him petulantly.
Gabriel’s knowing look told Sam that his explanation was all that really needed to be said on the matter.
“So what, were you waylaid by some ice monster on the way home?” Gabe asked, only half joking.
Sam scrunched up his nose and blushed. “Loose stone,” he said. “Hurt my ankle when I tripped and went down hard.”
“Seriously? Sam Winchester was almost taken out by a bit of stone?” Gabriel’s other hand drifted down his legs lazily, and Sam could feel the healing power of his grace, cool and soothing and just a little bit charged, like electricity, quietly work through the strained muscle of his ankle.
“Please don’t tell Dean,” Sam pleaded, staring up at Gabriel with his most convincing puppy dog eyes.
Gabriel laughed, not the cruel laugh of the Trickster, but something kinder. “Okay, whatever you say. But you owe me one.”
Sam eyed him suspiciously. Much as he trusted him, this was Gabriel, the Trickster.
“Don’t give me that look, Winchester,” Gabriel frowned down at him, though Sam could see a teasing spark in his eyes. He lifted the hand from Sam’s ankle and wiggled it in front of Sam’s face. “Healing you here. I’m one of the good guys now, remember?”
“Yeah, well, ‘good’ is a relative term around here,” Sam pointed out.
“Granted,” Gabriel agreed with a smirk. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Sam said. “Better, though. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” Gabriel said. He slowly, almost reluctantly, pulled his arms away so Sam could sit up and free himself from the blanket he had been wrapped in. “You should get some sleep. I already told Castiel that you weren’t going anywhere until at least noon tomorrow, so take the opportunity to sleep in.”
“Thanks,” Sam said again, touched not only by Gabriel’s thoughtfulness, but by how candid he was about it. After taking a moment to lose his jeans and flannel, he slowly crawled under the covers and relaxed into his now plump pillow. He missed Gabriel’s warmth already, but was grateful to stretch his legs the entire length of the bed.
“No problem,” Gabriel said, standing up.
“Stay,” Sam said sleepily.
He didn’t even realize he had said it out loud until he saw Gabriel’s head twitch to the side, confused. “What’d you say, Samsquatch?”
“Stay here tonight,” Sam said, too tired to feel much more beyond his want. Besides, he had already said it; in for a penny, in for a pound, right? And he was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined that kiss when he was waking up.
Gabriel walked around the bed and laid careful fingers over Sam’s forehead. “I thought I healed that concussion of yours.”
Sam laughed at him. “You did,” he said dryly. “Now bank the fire, turn off the lights, and come keep me warm. You wouldn’t want all that healing to go to waste when I freeze in this big bed.”
Gabriel smirked at him. “Well, when you put it like that…”
With a snap, the lights were out and the fireplace disappeared back to wherever Gabe had conjured it up from. Gabriel tentatively climbed into the bed next to Sam, and Sam curled up around him.
Gabriel chuckled appreciatively. “I didn’t know you were a cuddler, Sammich.”
“Lots of things you don’t know,” Sam muttered sleepily.
“Wanna let me in on them, then?” Gabriel asked.
“Mmm...Maybe tomorrow,” Sam said. Then, deciding that he could only be brave enough to try this when he was this very bone-deep tired, he put one hand on Gabriel’s chin, pulling his face up to his. Sam leaned in and kissed him slowly, inquisitively. When Gabriel’s lips parted willingly, he pressed his tongue in, learning the contours of his mouth.
When he finally drew back for a breath, Gabriel sighed contentedly. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Sam agreed. As much as he would like to kiss Gabriel again and explore the boundaries of his interest in Sam, he found himself literally unable to stay awake for more. “Time to sleep now. Good night.”
“Now that’s not fair,” Gabriel complained.
“Nope,” Sam agreed, already half asleep and pawing at Gabriel’s back to pull him in closer. He would make it up to the archangel with more kisses, and maybe other things, in the morning.
Sam fell asleep holding a very warm archangel to his chest as curious fingers stroked his back, waiting for him to wake.
And maybe he did have his own angel watching over him.