[SPN] faith is a series of complications (2/16; first act)
I: first act-you can’t win a race with a cannonball.
Dean Winchester’s life was fucked.
Not that this was any surprise to him, nor should it have been-but one might think after stopping the goddamned Apocalypse he would be entitled to something better. But no, everything went on a downward roll starting with Sam (or well, Sam without his frigging soul) showing back up in his life to-to this. Words couldn’t even describe exactly just how fucked up everything about this world was. His life was a freaking television show here, for God’s sake. Who the hell would have ever thought of turning his life into some serial drama? Chuck and his books had been bad enough, not that he had seen any of them again ever since Armageddon was put to a screeching halt; and of course, Dean had no intention of changing that fact. He just had about enough of his life being paraded around for the entire world (worlds) to know.
The only good thing to come out of this whole train wreck was probably the fact that nobody could come after them now, especially with what Balthazar had done-although considering their situation, Dean wasn’t certain if this was going to be a good or bad thing. Without any means of getting to Cas, and having next to no idea what to do now that they had the keys to Heaven’s weapon department in their hands (well Sam’s giant hands, but the point still stood), complicated was pretty much an understatement as to their current state.
“Everything about this place sucks,” the elder Winchester growled under his breath while both he and Sam sat in the chairs in the studio as they waited for their driver (they had a driver, what was this world coming to?), pointedly trying to ignore some of the stares that the other people were giving both of them. It was bad enough that this place was already bad touching him; he didn’t need to go through this as well. Seriously, just what the hell was up with this world? His life was not supposed to be turned into some crappy late night show that nobody would watch because it aired at strange times when nobody would bother to be up anyway. Not that this was a bad thing, since that meant that less people actually watched it. But the point still stood.
Sam let out a loud breath through his nose, doing that little worried-cum-thoughtful frown of his as he did a little glance around (and maybe sort of attempting to look as natural as he could, which really wasn’t too natural looking at all). “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Dean didn’t even need to look at his brother to know that Sam was just about as freaked out as he was.
He had a feeling that Sam hadn’t really quite gotten over the fact that he had been asked about the time he was running around without his soul. And yeah, he was right-there was the beginning of a familiar bitchface (#276 aka I really hate this place and want to go away now) from the younger Winchester, as Sam ran a hand through his hair in the way that showed that he was trying to think.
“Once we get out of this place-” Sam started somewhat cautiously, in the way that meant he wasn’t actually so sure what he was doing, but was suggesting it anyway since he had no other viable idea. “Once we’re out of here, we need to get the real ingredients and do the spell that Balthazar did on us, so we can return to our own world.”
“Said that earlier, Sammy,” Dean returned in a grunt, leaning forward and balancing his elbows on his knees, trying to keep his legs still as he glanced at the various stagehands and crew members loitering around the set. Everybody was wrapping up for the day, so the props and scenes were being packed up as much as possible as the stage lights shut down. Dean blinked at the sudden change in the lighting as the stronger ones shut off, feeling the flashes still flickering behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to try and clear them off.
If there was just somebody who could pop up and help them-
“Hey, boys!”
Both Winchesters snapped their heads up at the voice, reeling for a moment at the familiarity of it. It had been well over a year now-nearly two-since they least heard that voice, and that had been from Sam’s laptop when a faint smile came from under that ridiculous fake moustache of his. Even now, Dean could still recall the last words he had heard Gabriel speak.
(“This is me standing up… and this is me lying down.”)
But-no, this probably wasn’t Gabriel, no matter how much this guy who was all but bouncing towards them looked like Gabriel and sounded like Gabriel and seemed to be a bit too Gabriel-like for Dean to be comfortable with. Cas hadn’t even been Cas at all (and seriously, that Misha guy was just wrong on so many levels), so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that this guy (whoever he was) wasn’t Gabriel either. Besides, even if he was Gabriel, Dean was pretty certain that the archangel wouldn’t even want to help them-he knew now how much it hurt when your own brother turned on you, and no matter how much of a dick Lucifer was, it didn’t change the fact that Gabriel was his brother, and Lucifer killed Gabriel. The archangel-slash-Trickster might have been a dick (one of the biggest, although Zachariah was a lot worse-if not just as bad), but at least he had his heart in the right place. Dean could respect that fact, at least.
Sam looked torn between wanting to shout out the name of the angel and saying something they were both most likely going to regret, but managed to keep his mouth shut as the Gabriel look-alike closed the distance and stood before the duo. Even though this person wasn’t Gabriel at all, the way he carried himself sure reminded him of the archangel, close enough that it made Dean’s spine crawl. No matter what had happened, the whole incident at Mystery Spot really wasn’t an easy memory to forget. Dying about a thousand times in the same day tended to do that to you. (Not that he could remember it, but the point still stood-guy was an asshole.)
Not!Gabriel probably felt the animosity that both Winchesters were radiating towards him, seeing as he frowned and tilted his head to the side, hazel eyes studying the brothers. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face-something distinctly un-Gabriel-like-and not!Gabriel leaned closer to the two, putting his face almost dangerously close to both of them.
“Something on your mind, J-squared?” he started, now looking between both of them with something of a worried expression. “Did something happen on the set earlier? Any cease and desist letters?” He paused to look at Sam. “Did your alpaca die a horrible death like I told you it would?”
The younger Winchester stared back at not!Gabriel, and Dean could all-too easily read the expression that was on his brother’s face (Bitchface #157 - aka is that question supposed to be for real or not, either way I am not amused).
“Well, maybe not,” not!Gabriel continued on, not really bothering with the fact that Sam hadn’t answered him. “Gen would be pretty devastated if that happened.”
“Gen?” Sam started before he could help himself, and Dean shot his brother a glare. This was really not helping the situation at all.
Not!Gabriel gave Sam a confused look, one eyebrow arching up. “Uh, yeah? Genevieve? Your wife, Jared.”
If it were possible, Sam’s eyes would have been as big as beach balls now with the sheer surprise written all over his face. Dean on the other hand all but stopped in his mental tracks, because holy shit, fake Sam had a wife? Now he had to wonder if fake him had one too. He really hoped that wasn’t the case though, because that would just be awkward.
Dean blinked when not!Gabriel started to wave a hand before his face, peering ever closer now. “Yoohoo, anybody home?”
“Stop that,” Dean growled as he batted the hand away.
That action earned an obviously false look of hurt from not!Gabriel, who pouted as he spoke. “So mean, Jensen. And here I thought we were best buds. Pushing me away now that you and Jared are finally noticing each other’s existence?”
“Look,” Sam started, cutting in before Dean could lose his temper and say something that wasn’t going to work in their favour. “We would appreciate it if you could leave us; we’re kind of… busy.”
Not!Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If you mean busy as in ‘sitting around like a bunch of gargoyles’, sure.” He did stop though, the concerned look crossing his face once again as he glanced at the duo. “Seriously, guys-what’s wrong?”
“Everything about this is wrong,” Dean muttered in an undertone.
There was a sympathetic glance from not!Gabriel this time. “Eric happened, huh? He did something crazy on the script again?”
“…Something like that,” Sam was the one who answered, wincing a bit at the lie. At least it wasn’t all that wrong.
“Ah, well then-” Not!Gabriel leaned forward, clapping both Winchesters on their shoulders as he started to move, walking past them. “I suppose it’s time to drown out our sorrows. Let me go find Clif and see if he’ll drive us over to my place.”
“What-” Sam started and turned around with Dean following behind, but by the time they looked back not!Gabriel had already vanished in the hustle and bustle of the stagehands.
One hour later, both Sam and Dean found themselves in a car driving down a highway, passing by the Canadian flag (“Son of a bitch, we’re not even in the States.”) as they turned into the city. By now both Winchesters were trying not to freak out over everything as not!Gabriel chatted merrily with the driver who was chauffeuring them back to… wherever not!Gabriel’s place was.
“-so I told Misha how much that girl freaked out and man, was he amused.” Not!Gabriel’s eyes were twinkling, looking far too amused as he was recounting some weird rhino thing to the driver; apparently it involved some kind of weird scavenger hunt or something, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention (half of the things that not!Gabriel was saying wasn’t really making sense at all). “Seriously, trolling the kids like that? Not good for publicity, but heck if I care. He’s a genius, I tell you. Pure genius.”
“As long as we don’t end up with hate mail,” Clif returned somewhat dryly, keeping his eyes trained on the road.
Not!Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes in response. “As if something like that can stop Misha from doing his work-make a right turn there, at the next junction.”
The car lurched a little when Clif turned it around, causing both Sam and Dean to grab onto the nearby handles out of instinct. Both Clif and not!Gabriel had their backs turned though, so the brothers could quickly let go before anything more awkward even happened. Not!Gabriel continued to chat with Clif while directing him towards his place (“Left, then straight, and then turn back around and go right. Yeah, my place is in a weird spot.”), making enough turns on the road that lesser men would have most probably already thrown up by the time they finally arrived at their destination. Having spent his life on the road though, Dean only felt relatively drained when he got out of the car, Sam following behind with yet another one of his bitchfaces (#58; better known as I really, really hated that car ride).
“Thanks for the ride again, Clif,” Not!Gabriel went as he closed the car door behind him and gave a small wave. “See ya tomorrow!”
Sam and Dean watched as the car drove off into the distance, seeing it disappear around the corner. They turned back to not!Gabriel once the car had vanished, watching him walk up the steps of his house as the man fished out his keys from the pockets of his pants.
Sam looked over to Dean, and the brothers gave each other the facial expression equivalent of ‘so what the hell are we going to do now?’ for about ten seconds before the younger Winchester replied to the unspoken question with a shrug. “Guess we go in.”
Dean scowled. “I hope we leave soon.” Nothing about this was sitting well with him.
Sam shrugged again and started to walk towards the house-and without much choice in the matter, Dean followed. Not!Gabriel was at the door when they entered, closing it behind them and tossing his keys onto the nearby table once both Winchesters were in the building.
“About time you two decided to come in,” he said, somehow sounding amused despite the words as he moved to settle himself on what seemed to be the most comfortable armchair in the living room, arching one eyebrow at the duo who continued to stand. “Well, what are you two waiting for?”
The brothers glanced at each other once more, but eventually moved to sit down on the long couch next to the armchair that not!Gabriel had draped himself onto. Not!Gabriel gave a small smile that looked a bit too much like Gabriel’s.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he spoke, raising his hand and snapping his fingers-
-and then a plate of sweets instantly appeared at the table. The Winchesters both jumped from their seats in surprise, their eyes widening as they instantly put two and two together.
Sam was the one who let out his shock first. “Gabriel?”
Gabriel’s smile grew wider. “The one and only, Gigantor.”
Both Sam and Dean could only stare in shock at not-no, the real Gabriel, apparently alive and well all this time in another world when they had thought he was dead. And he was dead; the brothers had returned to the hotel the day after, only to see the place in disarray and the body of Gabriel lifeless where the meeting room was; his wings burned out, the evidence seared into the very ground. Dean could still remember the sight that laid before them when they entered, and the darkness had done little to diminish it. Gabriel had been killed, but somehow-
The archangel rolled his eyes and settled himself more comfortably on his armchair, reaching out to grab a bar of chocolate from the plate of sweets he snapped up. “Would you stop gaping at me already? I’m starting to feel kinda uncomfortable.”
“You’re dead,” was all that Dean could say, his voice flat. “You were dead. This is-” The elder Winchester let out a frustrated growl, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. “Jesus Christ, do any of you stay dead?”
Gabriel only sent Dean a very flat look in response. “Speak for yourself, Dean-o.”
Dean, of course, deflated instantly since Gabriel did bring up a very good point; between the three of them, Dean was the one who had died the most (no thanks to the archangel, of course).
Sam decided to cut in before the situation got any worse-although from the expression on his face, the younger Winchester wasn’t at all thrilled to know that the (relatively self-proclaimed) Trickster was still alive. “We checked, Gabriel. We saw your body-”
“-but not my Grace,” the archangel interrupted him, wagging a finger with the hand that wasn’t occupied with the chocolate bar. “Although relatively speaking, I did cut it rather close.”
“So, what-” Dean started, lowering his hands to glare at Gabriel. “-you mojo’d yourself into this place, or something?”
The shift that question caused was instant; the bright look on Gabriel’s face changed into something much darker and mocking for a moment, a look that was close to the expressions he wore back in that warehouse in Ohio. This wasn’t the look of the Trickster-this was the look of the angel hidden behind the Trickster persona he wore, the angel who was tired of everything he saw and had just wanted everything to end.
The moment soon passed and the look vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced with what Dean recognized as a carefully crafted mask as the archangel shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. One moment I was pretty sure I was going to die, and the next thing I know I woke up in this apartment all alone.” There was a brief pause as Gabriel inclined his head, thinking a little before adding. “Well, that and my powers were just about gone. Took me a good year to recover from the worst of it, but I’m still not at full capacity-I doubt I’ll ever be, as long as I’m here.”
Dean frowned, but Sam gave Gabriel a look that was not quite a bitchface as he put together the newly acquired information in his head. “Then why don’t you go back?”
Gabriel shrugged again, finishing up the last of his chocolate bar. “Don’t see a reason to. You guys stopped the Apocalypse; my work’s done.”
“How do you know that?” the elder Winchester asked.
The archangel gave him a very pointed look in response. “You two are all the proof I need.”
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam once again cut in before Dean could say anything that would work against them. “Why don’t you return? I mean, if you’re there, I think Raphael would listen to you and Cas would have an easier time with the war.”
Gabriel, who had been reaching out for another piece of candy, stopped and froze entirely at the words that left Sam’s mouth. He looked up, face set in an expression of pure disbelief as he narrowed his eyes and looked between the two brothers before asking cautiously. “A war?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Civil war in Heaven.”
“Cas is up there fighting, and you’re just here eating your candy!” Dean added with a snap, quite unable to stop himself. All this time Cas was struggling, and Gabriel was just here doing his stupid Trickster things. What the hell was up with the stupid archangel? Weren’t he and Cas brothers?
Gabriel cast his gaze down to the ground, dropping his hand back on the armrest. His voice was quiet as he replied. “I didn’t know.”
Sam blinked, frowning. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t,” Gabriel repeated himself with a sigh, rubbing his temples as he said that. “I can’t hear the Host here; you know as well as I do why that’s the case.”
Sam frowned even more and shook his head. “No, actually.”
“All we know is that Cas can’t hear us,” Dean added, now looking at Gabriel rather intently. What was the archangel trying to say here? If Gabriel-an archangel-couldn’t hear the Host, then-
Gabriel sighed once again, lowering his hands. “Let me just put this in the simplest way; it’s like trying to get Vonnegut in China. I’m completely cut off from the Host, because the Host doesn’t exist here.”
“And that means…?” Sam piped in.
“That means that as far as I’m concerned, I’m the only angel-and possibly the only supernatural being-to exist in this world.” Gabriel reached out for another bit of candy, busying himself with unwrapping it as he continued. “I’m using myself to sustain myself, because no Host means no Grace, and no Host also means no angels, which in turn mean no demons, and no demons means no things that go bump in the night.” He tossed the wrapper away and popped the sweet into his mouth, chewing it as he returned his gaze to the brothers. “Which I might add, is pretty awesome because that means there’s no competition whatsoever. I win via forfeit.”
Dean turned to his brother. “Nice to know that at least one of us is enjoying this,” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that, Dean-o.”
Dean only rolled his eyes in return before turning back to Gabriel. “So if you’re doing that whole self-sustaining thing, I guess that means you’re planning to stay here?”
“Stay?” Gabriel echoed, arching an eyebrow as he waved a hand at his surroundings. “That’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Don’t see why I should change my plans.”
“You could help Cas end the war,” Sam spoke, attempting to be diplomatic-or as diplomatic as one could ever be to a being like Gabriel anyway. It did seem to work, at least judging from the thoughtful look that crossed his features.
“Mmmmaybe,” he went after a pause, although the disinterest was obvious. “Raph’s not really much of the leading type. But-" the archangel added, continuing before either of the Winchesters could speak. “-Castiel’s position ain’t good either. He’s only just a Power-Dominion, if I want to be generous enough. That’s still nothing compared to an archangel. Not a lot of angels can really side with somebody like Castiel-an angel who rebelled for humanity, mind. That’s like the worst thing any angel could do.”
“But he stopped-” Dean started, only to be cut in by Gabriel.
“Stopped the Apocalypse, yes,” Gabriel went, picking up another piece of candy and continuing to speak while undoing the wrapper. “And obviously Dad favours him or something, because he got revived by Him before.”
“Twice,” the elder Winchester added, causing Gabriel to give the older human a look for a moment.
“…Twice,” he echoed after said moment passed, dropping the wrapper to pop the sweet into his mouth and looking towards Sam. “No angel has ever been revived twice, after all. Castiel’s kinda set a precedent on that bit.”
Dean really wished he could just throw the plate of candy right at Gabriel’s face there and then, but he was pretty certain that the stupid archangel with his stupid sweet-tooth would like it anyway. “Then what? You’re going to let Cas die a third time because he’s doing what’s right? Raphael’s trying to kick-start the Apocalypse again, and you don’t want that either.”
“And I died for that,” Gabriel retorted, voice louder and higher now. “I died helping you two, and I am done. I don’t want to fight my family again, Winchester.”
“You son of a-” Dean started, but his brother interrupted yet another time-Dean didn’t like it, but he supposed he should be grateful for it, at least. Getting angry really wasn’t an option now, not with the situation they were in. (And maybe in a way Gabriel was right about what he had said, but Dean wasn’t going to let the archangel have the privilege of knowing that. The asshole had enough to gloat about as it was.)
Sam shifted to lean closer across the table, setting an even gaze upon Gabriel as he spoke. “It’s your choice that you don’t want to help with the war, Gabriel, but we need your help all the same. We got sent here by Balthazar, and we want to return. Can you help us with that, at least?”
The archangel looked at the brothers, eyes narrowing again. “Balthazar?”
“One of Cas’ friends,” Dean supplied with a grunt.
“Groomed hair, bit of stubble, hates Titanic with a passion?”
The Winchesters only raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other.
“Nevermind,” Gabriel waved it off, returning back to the topic at hand. “I heard he was dead.”
“Well, you heard wrong,” Dean returned, breathing out loudly through his nose in a bid to keep his voice even (which failed since his voice was now rising higher and louder with each word), “Because he’s still alive and kicking and he just sent Sammy and me through a friggin’ window into this crap world.”
Gabriel could only snort. “You got the ‘crap world’ part right, at least. Look, boys-” he started again, waving a hand to send off the plate of candy to who-knows-where before getting up on his feet. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll succeed, but if you want to go back to your post-Apocalyptic world then fine, I’d be happy to send you back. J-squared’s more entertaining anyway, even if both of them are prudes and need the sticks up their asses to be removed.”
Sam quickly stood up, clearly quite pleased that they had managed to find a way back. “Then, we can go now and-”
“Not now,” the archangel cut in, turning around to face Sam with a stern look and one raised finger. “The studio’s closed, and if the studio’s where you came from then it’s where you need to go through to return back from where Balthazar sent you over.” He paused, thinking for a moment again. “Either of you two remember what Balthazar did?”
“I do,” Dean spoke up.
Gabriel nodded in return to that. “Alright. Show me that in the morning, and I’ll see what I’ll need to do to reverse it.” That said, he turned back around and made his way out of the living room. “With that said, I’m going to get my sleep. Night, boys. Make yourselves comfortable on the couch.”
“Uh-” Sam started, but the door slammed shut before he could say anything. “-night.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath.
← prologue | second act →
Dean Winchester’s life was fucked.
Not that this was any surprise to him, nor should it have been-but one might think after stopping the goddamned Apocalypse he would be entitled to something better. But no, everything went on a downward roll starting with Sam (or well, Sam without his frigging soul) showing back up in his life to-to this. Words couldn’t even describe exactly just how fucked up everything about this world was. His life was a freaking television show here, for God’s sake. Who the hell would have ever thought of turning his life into some serial drama? Chuck and his books had been bad enough, not that he had seen any of them again ever since Armageddon was put to a screeching halt; and of course, Dean had no intention of changing that fact. He just had about enough of his life being paraded around for the entire world (worlds) to know.
The only good thing to come out of this whole train wreck was probably the fact that nobody could come after them now, especially with what Balthazar had done-although considering their situation, Dean wasn’t certain if this was going to be a good or bad thing. Without any means of getting to Cas, and having next to no idea what to do now that they had the keys to Heaven’s weapon department in their hands (well Sam’s giant hands, but the point still stood), complicated was pretty much an understatement as to their current state.
“Everything about this place sucks,” the elder Winchester growled under his breath while both he and Sam sat in the chairs in the studio as they waited for their driver (they had a driver, what was this world coming to?), pointedly trying to ignore some of the stares that the other people were giving both of them. It was bad enough that this place was already bad touching him; he didn’t need to go through this as well. Seriously, just what the hell was up with this world? His life was not supposed to be turned into some crappy late night show that nobody would watch because it aired at strange times when nobody would bother to be up anyway. Not that this was a bad thing, since that meant that less people actually watched it. But the point still stood.
Sam let out a loud breath through his nose, doing that little worried-cum-thoughtful frown of his as he did a little glance around (and maybe sort of attempting to look as natural as he could, which really wasn’t too natural looking at all). “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Dean didn’t even need to look at his brother to know that Sam was just about as freaked out as he was.
He had a feeling that Sam hadn’t really quite gotten over the fact that he had been asked about the time he was running around without his soul. And yeah, he was right-there was the beginning of a familiar bitchface (#276 aka I really hate this place and want to go away now) from the younger Winchester, as Sam ran a hand through his hair in the way that showed that he was trying to think.
“Once we get out of this place-” Sam started somewhat cautiously, in the way that meant he wasn’t actually so sure what he was doing, but was suggesting it anyway since he had no other viable idea. “Once we’re out of here, we need to get the real ingredients and do the spell that Balthazar did on us, so we can return to our own world.”
“Said that earlier, Sammy,” Dean returned in a grunt, leaning forward and balancing his elbows on his knees, trying to keep his legs still as he glanced at the various stagehands and crew members loitering around the set. Everybody was wrapping up for the day, so the props and scenes were being packed up as much as possible as the stage lights shut down. Dean blinked at the sudden change in the lighting as the stronger ones shut off, feeling the flashes still flickering behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to try and clear them off.
If there was just somebody who could pop up and help them-
“Hey, boys!”
Both Winchesters snapped their heads up at the voice, reeling for a moment at the familiarity of it. It had been well over a year now-nearly two-since they least heard that voice, and that had been from Sam’s laptop when a faint smile came from under that ridiculous fake moustache of his. Even now, Dean could still recall the last words he had heard Gabriel speak.
(“This is me standing up… and this is me lying down.”)
But-no, this probably wasn’t Gabriel, no matter how much this guy who was all but bouncing towards them looked like Gabriel and sounded like Gabriel and seemed to be a bit too Gabriel-like for Dean to be comfortable with. Cas hadn’t even been Cas at all (and seriously, that Misha guy was just wrong on so many levels), so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that this guy (whoever he was) wasn’t Gabriel either. Besides, even if he was Gabriel, Dean was pretty certain that the archangel wouldn’t even want to help them-he knew now how much it hurt when your own brother turned on you, and no matter how much of a dick Lucifer was, it didn’t change the fact that Gabriel was his brother, and Lucifer killed Gabriel. The archangel-slash-Trickster might have been a dick (one of the biggest, although Zachariah was a lot worse-if not just as bad), but at least he had his heart in the right place. Dean could respect that fact, at least.
Sam looked torn between wanting to shout out the name of the angel and saying something they were both most likely going to regret, but managed to keep his mouth shut as the Gabriel look-alike closed the distance and stood before the duo. Even though this person wasn’t Gabriel at all, the way he carried himself sure reminded him of the archangel, close enough that it made Dean’s spine crawl. No matter what had happened, the whole incident at Mystery Spot really wasn’t an easy memory to forget. Dying about a thousand times in the same day tended to do that to you. (Not that he could remember it, but the point still stood-guy was an asshole.)
Not!Gabriel probably felt the animosity that both Winchesters were radiating towards him, seeing as he frowned and tilted his head to the side, hazel eyes studying the brothers. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face-something distinctly un-Gabriel-like-and not!Gabriel leaned closer to the two, putting his face almost dangerously close to both of them.
“Something on your mind, J-squared?” he started, now looking between both of them with something of a worried expression. “Did something happen on the set earlier? Any cease and desist letters?” He paused to look at Sam. “Did your alpaca die a horrible death like I told you it would?”
The younger Winchester stared back at not!Gabriel, and Dean could all-too easily read the expression that was on his brother’s face (Bitchface #157 - aka is that question supposed to be for real or not, either way I am not amused).
“Well, maybe not,” not!Gabriel continued on, not really bothering with the fact that Sam hadn’t answered him. “Gen would be pretty devastated if that happened.”
“Gen?” Sam started before he could help himself, and Dean shot his brother a glare. This was really not helping the situation at all.
Not!Gabriel gave Sam a confused look, one eyebrow arching up. “Uh, yeah? Genevieve? Your wife, Jared.”
If it were possible, Sam’s eyes would have been as big as beach balls now with the sheer surprise written all over his face. Dean on the other hand all but stopped in his mental tracks, because holy shit, fake Sam had a wife? Now he had to wonder if fake him had one too. He really hoped that wasn’t the case though, because that would just be awkward.
Dean blinked when not!Gabriel started to wave a hand before his face, peering ever closer now. “Yoohoo, anybody home?”
“Stop that,” Dean growled as he batted the hand away.
That action earned an obviously false look of hurt from not!Gabriel, who pouted as he spoke. “So mean, Jensen. And here I thought we were best buds. Pushing me away now that you and Jared are finally noticing each other’s existence?”
“Look,” Sam started, cutting in before Dean could lose his temper and say something that wasn’t going to work in their favour. “We would appreciate it if you could leave us; we’re kind of… busy.”
Not!Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If you mean busy as in ‘sitting around like a bunch of gargoyles’, sure.” He did stop though, the concerned look crossing his face once again as he glanced at the duo. “Seriously, guys-what’s wrong?”
“Everything about this is wrong,” Dean muttered in an undertone.
There was a sympathetic glance from not!Gabriel this time. “Eric happened, huh? He did something crazy on the script again?”
“…Something like that,” Sam was the one who answered, wincing a bit at the lie. At least it wasn’t all that wrong.
“Ah, well then-” Not!Gabriel leaned forward, clapping both Winchesters on their shoulders as he started to move, walking past them. “I suppose it’s time to drown out our sorrows. Let me go find Clif and see if he’ll drive us over to my place.”
“What-” Sam started and turned around with Dean following behind, but by the time they looked back not!Gabriel had already vanished in the hustle and bustle of the stagehands.
One hour later, both Sam and Dean found themselves in a car driving down a highway, passing by the Canadian flag (“Son of a bitch, we’re not even in the States.”) as they turned into the city. By now both Winchesters were trying not to freak out over everything as not!Gabriel chatted merrily with the driver who was chauffeuring them back to… wherever not!Gabriel’s place was.
“-so I told Misha how much that girl freaked out and man, was he amused.” Not!Gabriel’s eyes were twinkling, looking far too amused as he was recounting some weird rhino thing to the driver; apparently it involved some kind of weird scavenger hunt or something, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention (half of the things that not!Gabriel was saying wasn’t really making sense at all). “Seriously, trolling the kids like that? Not good for publicity, but heck if I care. He’s a genius, I tell you. Pure genius.”
“As long as we don’t end up with hate mail,” Clif returned somewhat dryly, keeping his eyes trained on the road.
Not!Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes in response. “As if something like that can stop Misha from doing his work-make a right turn there, at the next junction.”
The car lurched a little when Clif turned it around, causing both Sam and Dean to grab onto the nearby handles out of instinct. Both Clif and not!Gabriel had their backs turned though, so the brothers could quickly let go before anything more awkward even happened. Not!Gabriel continued to chat with Clif while directing him towards his place (“Left, then straight, and then turn back around and go right. Yeah, my place is in a weird spot.”), making enough turns on the road that lesser men would have most probably already thrown up by the time they finally arrived at their destination. Having spent his life on the road though, Dean only felt relatively drained when he got out of the car, Sam following behind with yet another one of his bitchfaces (#58; better known as I really, really hated that car ride).
“Thanks for the ride again, Clif,” Not!Gabriel went as he closed the car door behind him and gave a small wave. “See ya tomorrow!”
Sam and Dean watched as the car drove off into the distance, seeing it disappear around the corner. They turned back to not!Gabriel once the car had vanished, watching him walk up the steps of his house as the man fished out his keys from the pockets of his pants.
Sam looked over to Dean, and the brothers gave each other the facial expression equivalent of ‘so what the hell are we going to do now?’ for about ten seconds before the younger Winchester replied to the unspoken question with a shrug. “Guess we go in.”
Dean scowled. “I hope we leave soon.” Nothing about this was sitting well with him.
Sam shrugged again and started to walk towards the house-and without much choice in the matter, Dean followed. Not!Gabriel was at the door when they entered, closing it behind them and tossing his keys onto the nearby table once both Winchesters were in the building.
“About time you two decided to come in,” he said, somehow sounding amused despite the words as he moved to settle himself on what seemed to be the most comfortable armchair in the living room, arching one eyebrow at the duo who continued to stand. “Well, what are you two waiting for?”
The brothers glanced at each other once more, but eventually moved to sit down on the long couch next to the armchair that not!Gabriel had draped himself onto. Not!Gabriel gave a small smile that looked a bit too much like Gabriel’s.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he spoke, raising his hand and snapping his fingers-
-and then a plate of sweets instantly appeared at the table. The Winchesters both jumped from their seats in surprise, their eyes widening as they instantly put two and two together.
Sam was the one who let out his shock first. “Gabriel?”
Gabriel’s smile grew wider. “The one and only, Gigantor.”
Both Sam and Dean could only stare in shock at not-no, the real Gabriel, apparently alive and well all this time in another world when they had thought he was dead. And he was dead; the brothers had returned to the hotel the day after, only to see the place in disarray and the body of Gabriel lifeless where the meeting room was; his wings burned out, the evidence seared into the very ground. Dean could still remember the sight that laid before them when they entered, and the darkness had done little to diminish it. Gabriel had been killed, but somehow-
The archangel rolled his eyes and settled himself more comfortably on his armchair, reaching out to grab a bar of chocolate from the plate of sweets he snapped up. “Would you stop gaping at me already? I’m starting to feel kinda uncomfortable.”
“You’re dead,” was all that Dean could say, his voice flat. “You were dead. This is-” The elder Winchester let out a frustrated growl, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. “Jesus Christ, do any of you stay dead?”
Gabriel only sent Dean a very flat look in response. “Speak for yourself, Dean-o.”
Dean, of course, deflated instantly since Gabriel did bring up a very good point; between the three of them, Dean was the one who had died the most (no thanks to the archangel, of course).
Sam decided to cut in before the situation got any worse-although from the expression on his face, the younger Winchester wasn’t at all thrilled to know that the (relatively self-proclaimed) Trickster was still alive. “We checked, Gabriel. We saw your body-”
“-but not my Grace,” the archangel interrupted him, wagging a finger with the hand that wasn’t occupied with the chocolate bar. “Although relatively speaking, I did cut it rather close.”
“So, what-” Dean started, lowering his hands to glare at Gabriel. “-you mojo’d yourself into this place, or something?”
The shift that question caused was instant; the bright look on Gabriel’s face changed into something much darker and mocking for a moment, a look that was close to the expressions he wore back in that warehouse in Ohio. This wasn’t the look of the Trickster-this was the look of the angel hidden behind the Trickster persona he wore, the angel who was tired of everything he saw and had just wanted everything to end.
The moment soon passed and the look vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced with what Dean recognized as a carefully crafted mask as the archangel shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. One moment I was pretty sure I was going to die, and the next thing I know I woke up in this apartment all alone.” There was a brief pause as Gabriel inclined his head, thinking a little before adding. “Well, that and my powers were just about gone. Took me a good year to recover from the worst of it, but I’m still not at full capacity-I doubt I’ll ever be, as long as I’m here.”
Dean frowned, but Sam gave Gabriel a look that was not quite a bitchface as he put together the newly acquired information in his head. “Then why don’t you go back?”
Gabriel shrugged again, finishing up the last of his chocolate bar. “Don’t see a reason to. You guys stopped the Apocalypse; my work’s done.”
“How do you know that?” the elder Winchester asked.
The archangel gave him a very pointed look in response. “You two are all the proof I need.”
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam once again cut in before Dean could say anything that would work against them. “Why don’t you return? I mean, if you’re there, I think Raphael would listen to you and Cas would have an easier time with the war.”
Gabriel, who had been reaching out for another piece of candy, stopped and froze entirely at the words that left Sam’s mouth. He looked up, face set in an expression of pure disbelief as he narrowed his eyes and looked between the two brothers before asking cautiously. “A war?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Civil war in Heaven.”
“Cas is up there fighting, and you’re just here eating your candy!” Dean added with a snap, quite unable to stop himself. All this time Cas was struggling, and Gabriel was just here doing his stupid Trickster things. What the hell was up with the stupid archangel? Weren’t he and Cas brothers?
Gabriel cast his gaze down to the ground, dropping his hand back on the armrest. His voice was quiet as he replied. “I didn’t know.”
Sam blinked, frowning. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t,” Gabriel repeated himself with a sigh, rubbing his temples as he said that. “I can’t hear the Host here; you know as well as I do why that’s the case.”
Sam frowned even more and shook his head. “No, actually.”
“All we know is that Cas can’t hear us,” Dean added, now looking at Gabriel rather intently. What was the archangel trying to say here? If Gabriel-an archangel-couldn’t hear the Host, then-
Gabriel sighed once again, lowering his hands. “Let me just put this in the simplest way; it’s like trying to get Vonnegut in China. I’m completely cut off from the Host, because the Host doesn’t exist here.”
“And that means…?” Sam piped in.
“That means that as far as I’m concerned, I’m the only angel-and possibly the only supernatural being-to exist in this world.” Gabriel reached out for another bit of candy, busying himself with unwrapping it as he continued. “I’m using myself to sustain myself, because no Host means no Grace, and no Host also means no angels, which in turn mean no demons, and no demons means no things that go bump in the night.” He tossed the wrapper away and popped the sweet into his mouth, chewing it as he returned his gaze to the brothers. “Which I might add, is pretty awesome because that means there’s no competition whatsoever. I win via forfeit.”
Dean turned to his brother. “Nice to know that at least one of us is enjoying this,” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that, Dean-o.”
Dean only rolled his eyes in return before turning back to Gabriel. “So if you’re doing that whole self-sustaining thing, I guess that means you’re planning to stay here?”
“Stay?” Gabriel echoed, arching an eyebrow as he waved a hand at his surroundings. “That’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Don’t see why I should change my plans.”
“You could help Cas end the war,” Sam spoke, attempting to be diplomatic-or as diplomatic as one could ever be to a being like Gabriel anyway. It did seem to work, at least judging from the thoughtful look that crossed his features.
“Mmmmaybe,” he went after a pause, although the disinterest was obvious. “Raph’s not really much of the leading type. But-" the archangel added, continuing before either of the Winchesters could speak. “-Castiel’s position ain’t good either. He’s only just a Power-Dominion, if I want to be generous enough. That’s still nothing compared to an archangel. Not a lot of angels can really side with somebody like Castiel-an angel who rebelled for humanity, mind. That’s like the worst thing any angel could do.”
“But he stopped-” Dean started, only to be cut in by Gabriel.
“Stopped the Apocalypse, yes,” Gabriel went, picking up another piece of candy and continuing to speak while undoing the wrapper. “And obviously Dad favours him or something, because he got revived by Him before.”
“Twice,” the elder Winchester added, causing Gabriel to give the older human a look for a moment.
“…Twice,” he echoed after said moment passed, dropping the wrapper to pop the sweet into his mouth and looking towards Sam. “No angel has ever been revived twice, after all. Castiel’s kinda set a precedent on that bit.”
Dean really wished he could just throw the plate of candy right at Gabriel’s face there and then, but he was pretty certain that the stupid archangel with his stupid sweet-tooth would like it anyway. “Then what? You’re going to let Cas die a third time because he’s doing what’s right? Raphael’s trying to kick-start the Apocalypse again, and you don’t want that either.”
“And I died for that,” Gabriel retorted, voice louder and higher now. “I died helping you two, and I am done. I don’t want to fight my family again, Winchester.”
“You son of a-” Dean started, but his brother interrupted yet another time-Dean didn’t like it, but he supposed he should be grateful for it, at least. Getting angry really wasn’t an option now, not with the situation they were in. (And maybe in a way Gabriel was right about what he had said, but Dean wasn’t going to let the archangel have the privilege of knowing that. The asshole had enough to gloat about as it was.)
Sam shifted to lean closer across the table, setting an even gaze upon Gabriel as he spoke. “It’s your choice that you don’t want to help with the war, Gabriel, but we need your help all the same. We got sent here by Balthazar, and we want to return. Can you help us with that, at least?”
The archangel looked at the brothers, eyes narrowing again. “Balthazar?”
“One of Cas’ friends,” Dean supplied with a grunt.
“Groomed hair, bit of stubble, hates Titanic with a passion?”
The Winchesters only raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other.
“Nevermind,” Gabriel waved it off, returning back to the topic at hand. “I heard he was dead.”
“Well, you heard wrong,” Dean returned, breathing out loudly through his nose in a bid to keep his voice even (which failed since his voice was now rising higher and louder with each word), “Because he’s still alive and kicking and he just sent Sammy and me through a friggin’ window into this crap world.”
Gabriel could only snort. “You got the ‘crap world’ part right, at least. Look, boys-” he started again, waving a hand to send off the plate of candy to who-knows-where before getting up on his feet. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll succeed, but if you want to go back to your post-Apocalyptic world then fine, I’d be happy to send you back. J-squared’s more entertaining anyway, even if both of them are prudes and need the sticks up their asses to be removed.”
Sam quickly stood up, clearly quite pleased that they had managed to find a way back. “Then, we can go now and-”
“Not now,” the archangel cut in, turning around to face Sam with a stern look and one raised finger. “The studio’s closed, and if the studio’s where you came from then it’s where you need to go through to return back from where Balthazar sent you over.” He paused, thinking for a moment again. “Either of you two remember what Balthazar did?”
“I do,” Dean spoke up.
Gabriel nodded in return to that. “Alright. Show me that in the morning, and I’ll see what I’ll need to do to reverse it.” That said, he turned back around and made his way out of the living room. “With that said, I’m going to get my sleep. Night, boys. Make yourselves comfortable on the couch.”
“Uh-” Sam started, but the door slammed shut before he could say anything. “-night.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath.
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