Let Me Silence You - Dean/Gabriel
Title: Let Me Silence You
Supernatural: Dean/Gabriel
Written by OpheliacAngel
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: Teen
Summary/Warnings: Gabriel wants Dean...badly, desperately enough to do anything to him. But the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt him, only to make him happy. And maybe he's been thinking of himself and only himself for a little too long. Contains hints of sexual situations, but nothing explicit. Set during Season 7, I guess mainly towards the end, cause this is an unrealistic ending to the series. I suck when it comes to anything medical related, so that’s why I paired it down as much as possible and hope it sounds partly realistic. Anyways enjoy.
“Do you trust me, Dean?”
“No wait…”
Gabriel’s hand reaches down seductively to unzip Dean’s pants, meanwhile leaning closer and sticking out his tongue to lick Dean’s neck, probably force it through his mouth seconds later. Dean pulls away and nearly falls off the bed had the archangel not caught him in time. He looks around frantically for an exit, finding the door to be several feet away and seeming like miles from his position on the bed. Gabriel holds him close, whispering in his ear, as if him being here is completely normal.
“You’re," Dean took a deep breath, wondering why he couldn’t find the strength to pull away, "you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Now Dean, that’s not very nice. Would you prefer me to be dead?”
If the archangel is mad he certainly doesn’t show it, still working his way into Dean’s pants.
“No no, it’s not that. It’s just…”
“Just what, Dean? Aren’t you glad I’m here?”
“Gabriel, stop. Gabriel…”
The archangel’s lips are nearly on his own when he hears his name being screamed, feels someone shaking him. But wherever it is it’s not there.
He opens his eyes to find Sam shaking his arm frantically. He can barely hear what his brother is saying, in the process of trying to calm himself down without Sam thinking too much is wrong. He couldn’t believe that that was a dream, but shock was infinitely better than reality. If that was real, he didn’t think he would have been able to get away. That had been close.
“You okay?”
He shakes away the fog from his mind and looks up, “Yeah. Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Dean. Maybe it was because you were screaming for someone to stop.”
Sam walks away and Dean’s happy to get some space. He sits up and heads over to the bathroom.
“We’re leaving in ten, so don’t take too long in the shower.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
It was their way of knowing the other was okay, and not okay at the exact same time. He didn’t lock the door behind him because a part of him still didn’t believe that what had just happened, had been a dream after all.
…
They head over to some guy’s house to question him. He’s pretty sure Sam knows something is wrong, cause for the life of him he can’t remember the guy’s name, or what they’re thinking they’re hunting. And Sam is getting pretty damn sick of reminding him.
“What’s wrong with you today?”
Sam had just excused themselves and pulled Dean into the guy’s bedroom. He looks up from his coffee to find his brother’s suspicious gaze.
“What? Nothing, nothing is wrong.”
“Then explain to me why you end up staring into space instead of being my partner?”
Truth be told Dean was terrified, but he’d be damned if he showed that to Sam or anyone else. He’d been half-expecting for Sam to wake him up again, not able to grasp onto reality now that it seemed so real. Because the whole scene with Gabriel? Nothing had felt more real to him in his entire life. It wasn’t just the panic or the confusion, it was the colors, the sights, the smells. Gabriel’s voice was in his ear and it had sent real shivers down his spine. Sam seemed like a robot compared to Gabriel.
“Dean. Dean! Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
He snaps out of it to find Sam’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him and making him feel a teeny bit uncomfortable. He never wants to be restrained the way he had in that dream ever again. He brushes the hand away and takes a step back.
“You’re freaking me out here, Dean.”
“I’m fine! Let’s just get back to work.”
He walks away and takes the lead with the questions as soon as he sits back down. Sam looks at him the entire time as if he has sprouted wings. He can’t even remember what he had asked when they make it back to the car, he’s still a little out of it. But he doesn’t worry too much, questions come naturally and so does demon hunting.
“What are we hunting again?”
“No more burgers for you, Dean. I think someone poisoned the last one.”
“Yeah right.”
Dean sticks the key in the ignition and takes off to find a restaurant for lunch. He would not tell Sam what was going on, he was still trying to figure it out himself. Especially the part where he realized he actually kinda liked it. It made him feel... needed... wanted. Craved.
…
They’re in an empty house after lunch, exploring and trying to find some decent evidence of a monster attack. The house is a mess, considering it’s only been abandoned for little over a day. The drapes are gone, leaving the sunlight to do its job of blinding him and making him even more irritable than he already is. There are newspapers everywhere, overflowing off tables, crowding around the front door, and making the floor a hazardous place to walk on. Dean nearly trips and heads up clinging to the wall for support, Sam is meanwhile laughing his ass off several feet away.
“That’s why you watch where you step.”
“Shut up.”
Sam shakes his head at his idiot brother and sticks his head around a corner, his gun in the lead, to find probably the neatest room in the house, the kitchen. That’s not to say it’s not the ugliest room in the house, painted a sickening yellow and the walls adorning bright green cabinets. He can hear his brother mumbling behind him.
“Who keeps this many newspapers? You’d think a trashcan would come in handy at some point.
Freakin lunatic.”
Sam looks away from the eyesore of a kitchen and heads for the stairs, wondering whether he should send Dean up there.
“I’ll check the cellar, probably find a couple of clowns in there. Don’t want your screaming to give us away to the neighbors, Sammy.”
Dean’s right, the house is full of clown memorabilia, everything ranging from pictures on the wall to trinkets. Why oh why had Sam picked this case? His face instantly pales but Dean isn’t paying any attention, instead intently looking at a filthy newspaper he just found off the ground.
“What day is it today?”
“Uh…June 3rd.”
Dean shakes his head leading Sam to say, “What?”
He hands the paper over and Sam takes it, looking at the date while Dean still talks. It reads June 3rd, 2011.
“Didn’t Jay Morrow die on June 2nd? Yesterday?”
Sam immediately goes over the facts in his head, realizing soon that Dean’s right. He nods and continues staring at the newspaper, not believing what he is seeing. Dean beats him to the punch.
“So how in the world is that newspaper in this house?”
“Delivery guy could have accidentally delivered.”
Even when he’s saying it, Sam knows that’s not the case. He remembers the neighbor who had found Morrow’s dead body in the backyard say he had personally told the newspaper service not to deliver anymore to the house, being such a responsible neighbor and all.
“I highly doubt that.”
“So that means someone was in this house, early this morning, while the cops were here.”
Dean nods, “And I found this too.”
Sam looks up as his brother hands him another newspaper, this one covered in a boot print made of blood. Fresh blood.
“Definitely from this morning. As fresh as paint.”
He tastes a little and drops the newspaper to the ground in frustration.
“What?” Dean looks up.
“It’s ketchup, Dean.”
“No way.”
Dean tastes it for himself and he lifts his eyebrows in surprise.
“Actually doesn’t taste half bad.”
“Dean…” Sam’s patience is wearing thin.
“Alright alright. So it’s ketchup. Doesn’t matter, it still means someone was in the house this morning.”
“Unless it was a cop, who was eating and enjoying his daily newspaper on the job.”
“You’re such a downer, Sammy.”
“Yeah well, that could be the case.”
“Doubt it.”
“And why, exactly?”
“Cause, Dean gets up and looks Sam seriously in the eyes, you saw the tracks in the backyard. And I got a gut feeling about this. Like you say Sammy, people who collect clowns aren’t normal.”
Sam certainly couldn’t argue with that, “Fine. But we better find something else in this house that makes me a believer.”
Dean nods and walks towards a different set of stairs, these ones lead downstairs to a dark room that houses the cellar. He looks back at Sam.
“I’ll check the cellar for more newspapers. Maybe we’ll find something useful there.”
Sam takes his cue to leave and splits up from Dean to head upstairs. As soon as he’s gone from sight, Dean pulls his flashlight out of his pocket and is about to head down to the cellar when he hears a noise from the other room. He pulls out his gun and slowly heads to what appears to be the bedroom. He barely makes it to the doorway before he sees something that takes his breath away. Gabriel walks forward, toward him, shirtless and grinning seductively.
“Dean, so glad you decided to join me.”
The bewildered Winchester faints before he hears another word.
…
Gabriel’s tongue is in his mouth and is threatening to go ever deeper. On basic instinct, Dean wants to push away increasingly more each second that goes by. But he lingers there, on the bed, allowing Gabriel to take him away. Hopefully to a better place. His soft touch and sweet caress melt him whole, causing him to shiver as Gabriel’s hand finally makes his way inside. But Dean, scared now, pulls away. Gabriel pulls him back, but he doesn’t breach Dean again, instead letting his tongue find a home in his mouth once more. Dean kisses back hesitantly, hoping the archangel is satisfied and will continue to be satisfied. Gabriel’s tongue retreats and his lips pull off of Dean’s slightly, enough for him to utter more frightening and confusing words.
“I missed you, gorgeous. Your life force, your humanity, it keeps me going.”
Gabriel’s words make Dean turn suddenly bold, in a very strange way, as if it is not truly his boldness which he puts forth onto the archangel.
“Your words won’t seduce me. I know what you are. I know what you aim to do. You trick, you lie, you cheat. You are nothing but a filthy animal.”
Gabriel growls and picks the human up with considerable force, whose courage is completely lost now. He is thrown against the wall so quickly for a moment, he has no idea where he is, doesn’t want to. But he remembers when Gabriel’s teeth mark his skin, mark it so much it hurts. He cries out and bites his lip hard to prevent himself from crying out again. He cannot look at the archangel, when he does all he sees is rage. The destruction in his eyes, the sudden will to end Dean, is overwhelming him and he pushes back with everything he has. Unfortunately, it is not enough. Gabriel shoves him back and continues to hold him in place.
“You are foolish, human.”
He punches Dean so hard in the stomach he sees stars for longer than is possible. When he finally gets his vision back, the pain receding a little, he can see the archangel in his face, managing to keep himself under control. He drops Dean as blood begins to gush out of his mouth, it’s more blood than Dean’s seen in quite a while, not since he died. He doubles over in pain as his body hits the tile flooring. He can feel Gabriel standing over him, watching him, but he can’t look up. Black is coming in around the edges, numbing him and dizzying him. He stares at the carpet, willing the black to take him away from this place.
“You must know it was never my intention to hurt you. It’s merely in my nature.”
Dean finally lets himself give in to the black hole of unconsciousness.
…
Sam hears a loud noise downstairs and flies down the stairs as fast he can, gun in hand, ready to shoot. He drops his gun to the ground and stands in shock at the sight of Dean lying a foot away from him, seizing on the carpet. He has no experience with this kind of thing, but he rushes over to Dean anyway in extreme concern. He puts his fingers on his neck in a frantic search to find a pulse, though he can barely keep it together considering how much his hand is shaking and how much he is truly panicking right now. His pulse is erratic and ten times faster than it should be. He watches in horror as Dean’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, unhooks his belt and puts it in Dean’s mouth before he breaks his teeth, because he is biting down really hard.
“Stay with me, man. Stay with me.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials 911, his fingers barely able to press down the buttons. He can only just keep his voice straight as he talks, tears flowing out of his eyes rapidly. He wants to touch Dean, stop his arms and legs from moving nonstop cause he’s going to cramp up really bad later. But as much as he doesn’t know about seizures, he knows enough to be careful, to not touch his brother unless he absolutely has to. But he needs some form of contact so badly with Dean now, so he puts both his hands on his head and holds him, stroking back his hair and wiping the sweat pooling on his forehead, intermixing with his constantly falling tears. He finds a pillow nearby and puts it under Dean’s head, seeming to be the only form of comfort he can offer until the ambulance arrives.
“Just hold on, Dean. You gotta hold on for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, dude. And I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m gonna figure it out.”
He sits there and waits, for what must seem like hours. Dean stopped moving a while back, he’s now deadly still and Sam holds back more tears, knowing he needs to keep himself together. When the paramedics pull Dean out of his hands, he’s already completely lost it.
He doesn’t remember driving to the hospital, all he can think about is his big brother, suffering and he doesn’t have a clue why. He should have known, should have seen it, and he beats himself up about it now. The warning signs had gone off in his head and he had done nothing. But Dean’s stubbornness hadn’t helped either. Why couldn’t he just let him in? Where was the harm in that? Was he afraid Sam would judge him or something? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was afraid of what would be left of his brother in the hospital. But he refused to even think that Dean would be dead, his brother had survived a hell of a lot worse, and would continue to do so.
He was more than relieved when he pulled into the hospital parking lot, not only to see how Dean was doing, but also to give him reason enough not to think, about anything, at all. He would drive himself nuts with all the questions spinning around in his head so rapidly. He had no idea what had happened to Dean, would have no idea until he got his ass in there. And that right there practically made him sprint inside. But it was no use, no one would tell him anything about Dean, even after he filled out all the necessary and monotonous paperwork. He would just have to wait, and waiting caused more thinking. He was gonna kill himself.
“Mr. Winchester?”
He starts at the sound of his last name. How did he even get it? That meant Dean must have been awake and… oh no. He must have been terrified to not find his brother with him. Sam swallows down his guilt and tells himself now is not the time to obsess over what happened when he wasn’t here.
The doctor must have read his mind, “Your brother woke up briefly to give it to us. But he was still pretty much out of it, in no condition to talk.”
Sam finally stands up and walks over to the doctor.
“How is he?”
“He’ll be okay. He had a seizure.”
“Yeah, I could see that.”
“It was a good thing you called us when you did, Sam. Otherwise your brother might not have made it. And it’s also good that you didn’t hold down his limbs, since in many people this causes distress and further damage to the brain.”
“What happened?”
“He kept on calling out your name so we had to sedate him. We’ve got an IV running currently and we’ll need to monitor his blood pressure for a few days.”
“What about scans and all that?”
“We already ran an MRI and he came up clean. Considering it was only a mild seizure, we probably won’t need to run another scan.”
“So what caused it?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. It’s most likely he ran into something, maybe a wall or door. If he hit his head hard enough it could cause a seizure. Other than that possibility we really don’t know.”
Sam runs a hand through his hair. What the hell was going on with Dean?
“My brother, running into a wall? No way my brother is that stupid.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been done on purpose. Perhaps he was going through some distress at the time, serious headaches, nausea, dizziness? This could have caused him to lose his perception and balance, therefore collapsing and possibly hitting his head on a wall on the way down. It’s happened to many people before, Sam. This is nothing new.”
Or something’s causing it, Sam thinks. Someone. Like a demon, or even an angel.
Sam nods, far from satisfied but not sure what else he can ask.
“He can go home in a few days. You can go see him now if you like.”
And with that the absolutely useless doctor walks away, leaving Sam to his own methods of finding out just what had happened to his brother. Drilling Dean.
…
“Dean. Dean.”
He looks up to find Gabriel hovering over him. He’s still on the floor, still covered in blood and the dizziness is coming back now, hitting him with full force and he can’t breathe. He gags for several seconds then throws up only inches from his head. He’s surprised he could lift his head up for that, because it’s about to go down again, in his own vomit. And he can’t do anything about it.
He feels Gabriel’s warm hands hold his head up, preventing him from crashing back into the floor. He shivers, hard, and gasps as the archangel lifts him off the ground, placing him back on the bed and sits down next to him. He doesn’t breach any territory, doesn’t look at Dean in any seductive way. He’s completely changed now, which means Dean can allow himself to feel safe around him. He lets Gabriel wipe some of the blood off his face, not flinching and not pulling away. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, he only wants the archangel’s concern. And he is giving it to him without question.
“Sam’s worried about you. I should let you wake up now.”
“Unless," he trails a finger around his face, lingering on his cheek, "you choose to stay here with me. I’ll take care of you.”
It’s actually more than a little tempting for Dean. Gabriel is being nice and gentle now. And he knows he won’t play rough when he’s lying here helpless and sick like this. But he wants to get back to Sammy. Needs that one thing from him. So he begs.
“No. Please no.”
“As you wish.”
Gabriel’s fingers are placed on his forehead and he’s swept away to another room entirely.
The hospital room is cold, or maybe it’s just him. Sammy sits in a plastic chair on his right, asleep, his hand on his own cold one. He squeezes his little brother’s hand, but Sammy doesn’t wake up. He sighs and thinks back, trying to remember what had happened before Gabriel took him. But he can’t remember a goddamned thing, and he hates himself for it. A part of him thinks Gabriel will walk through the door straight ahead of him, whisk him away again, but he only ever appears to him in freakishly real dreams, and this isn’t a dream. It isn’t a dream because Sam doesn’t feel real beside him, and he doesn’t feel alive, not even when Sam wakes up a minute later.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself," Sam squeezes his hand and lifts up his other to pet his hair.
Dean doesn’t pull away, just sits there like a lump on a log, letting his brother treat him like a baby. If anything the petting is grounding him, making him feel that his brother is real, is sitting beside him really fussing over him. It feels good for a second before it gets old, before Sam gets the hint and his hand retreats. The staring is getting to him now.
“I’m not dead, Sam. You can turn away without worrying about me dropping dead.”
“I know that,” Sam whispers.
Why is he whispering? They have the whole room to themselves, and the hallway outside is quiet.
“You just really scared me back there.”
Dean nods, “What happened?”
“Collapsed, had a seizure.”
Sam puts his head in his hands and fights back tears, he can’t let his big brother see him cry.
“You’ve been out for twelve hours,” he continues.
“Can we go home now?”
“I’m supposed to keep you here for a couple days.”
Must he really beg? After all of this? Hadn’t begging Gabriel to see Sammy again been enough?
“Please, Sammy, wanna go home.”
And how truly pathetic he must sound.
Sam can’t deny him, not now. He knows how much Dean hates hospitals, and he doesn’t want to keep him here any longer than need be. Dean has already been through enough, and he knows he’ll be much more comfier in a motel, able to rest and recover. Plus this will also give him the chance to drill Dean on what’s been happening with him lately. Since his brother is still healing he won’t be able to escape him. Sam would finally get the answers he had been obsessing over.
“Okay," Sam nods, "but it has to be on my conditions. You have to take it easy for a while, I’m serious, Dean. We’re going to get you settled in at a nice motel and you’re gonna rest. Got it?”
Dean struggles to get out of bed but stops when Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, restraining his movements but gently, so Dean doesn’t freak out too much like he does when the archangel’s around.
“You gotta let me take care of you, man.”
Dean sighs, knowing the next few days are gonna be hell. But he doesn’t care about that right now, he’s out of Gabriel’s reach and back in Sammy’s safe arms. And that’s enough for him.
…
He hopes, deep down inside that Gabriel will give him some time with his brother. He doesn’t want to be sucked back down into his little world again, doesn’t want to be taken advantage of again, doesn’t want to have to feel scared and utterly vulnerable anymore. But he’d be lying if he said that Sammy’s touch was more comforting than the archangel’s. Gabriel’s touch on his face, on his cheek, was what ultimately grounded him, was what made him feel the safest he’s ever been. The shivering stopped as soon as he laid his fingers on him, the terror went away when his concerned gaze fell upon him. Gabriel had needs, just like every other creature, but he could be a real psycho at times. But Gabriel still had a heart. When he had seen what he had done to Dean he had turned frighteningly gentle, surprisingly panicked. The shock of the situation had calmed the human, almost made him want to stay on that soft bed in that nice room with that sweet and merciful archangel. But it still didn’t change the fact that Gabriel had hurt him, made him bleed, made him cry inside.
Sam helps him out of the car and into the dingy little motel, which looks entirely less appealing than the one he was in with Gabriel. He falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed and hours later he wakes up, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if Gabriel is looking down on him, thinking about whether to take him away again and abuse him some more. He chokes out his name and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see him right now. He doesn’t want to wake his brother up but he doesn’t want to be alone.
“Please don’t abuse me. I just want to see you. Just for a second.”
He feels fingers on his cheek and relaxes into the touch, knowing exactly who it is and relieved when he knows he shouldn’t be. He can feel Gabriel’s other hand on his chest, but it isn’t going lower, he’s giving Dean time.
“I thought you didn’t like me?”
“Me either, maybe I just like to be abused.”
He can picture Gabriel’s grin and opens his eyes to see the proof, but there’s nothing remotely like that on his face. The only thing that lies there is a deep frown.
“Don’t say that. I only want to make you happy I just… I get carried away at times. I hate to see you suffering.”
Dean just nods, he could care less if he allows himself to believe it or not. Gabriel is here and Gabriel is caressing him, and that is all he needs.
“You said it was in your nature,” he mumbles, though instantly regretting it.
The look on Gabriel’s face is pure heartbreak, but Dean remembers somewhere down inside that the archangel had brought this on himself, on the two of them.
“No, Dean. Look at me.”
He doesn’t look up into his eyes, the ceiling is a comfort for the time being.
“Look at me…”
“What if I don’t," Dean looks him straight in the eyes, "will you hit me?”
Gabriel looks angry and Dean thinks it’s because the angel believes he’s testing him. But it’s not that. It’s not that at all and he knows he should never forget that.
“What did I just tell you? I don’t like to hurt you.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t.”
Was is with him right now? Does he really want to test Gabriel again, like he did the last time, to see if he’ll hurt him again? He doesn’t feel like himself now, he can’t be himself now. Maybe he just wants Gabriel to feel guilty, and from what he can see, it’s actually working.
“You’re right. But I won’t allow myself to do it again. I lo…”
“You what? Tell me.”
There is a dangerously long silence. And neither of them are enjoying it.
“Why is it so hard to say?”
“Because I don’t deserve you. I don’t feel anything since I slammed you into that wall.”
He rolls off of Dean and now it’s the human’s turn to hover over the archangel.
“You don’t feel anything for me.”
“No, Dean, I don’t feel anything for myself. I told myself that if I really loved you then I would never hurt you. But I have, I have and I want you to know that was never my intention.”
“If you love me then why’d you try to rape me?”
The archangel appears to look horrified, although Dean could say he is faking it. But he doesn’t look like he is.
“Rape you? I…”
“Yeah, Gabriel, that’s what you call non-consented sex.”
“I wanted to make you happy, that’s all.”
“Did it look like I was happy?”
“Well...”
Now Gabriel was finally starting to see. Dean collapses back beside him on the bed, sighing and giving Gabriel some much needed time.
“I was selfish.”
Bingo.
“I didn’t think you’d ever like me that way, so I wanted to show you in my own way.”
“Maybe next time you should ask.”
Gabriel completely ignores that statement to scoot over and kiss Dean lightly on the lips. They lie there for several moments and think about that kiss. But then Dean lets his thoughts wander.
“That house, the ketchup and clown crap. You right?”
Gabriel tries to hide his grin but it is futile, he leans over to kiss Dean on the cheek.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Which means the dead guy, who seemed to mysteriously disappear from the morgue, was you.”
“I wanted you to figure it out. Knew you would.”
“So I could come to you willingly?”
The archangel nods and it is Dean who leans over to kiss him on the lips this time. This doesn’t mean he forgives Gabriel, it just means he understands a little more of what goes on inside his twisted mind.
“I should go.”
“Did I upset you?”
“Are you kidding me? I like you a hell of a lot better now that I know what your intentions are. But you have to wait, let me come to you okay?”
Gabriel takes Dean back and sprawls out on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got his Dean now, well almost. And he’ll wait for him to come to him. He’ll wait in heavy unbearable anticipation.
…
It’s a year before Dean comes to him. Of course to Gabriel it feels like a decade, but he promised Dean he would wait, and waited he has. Dean merely whispers his name, the wind starts to pick up and he’s beside him in moments.
“You came.”
“Dean, I would have waited for you for a century.”
“Don’t think I’m gonna live that long,” Dean laughs and Gabriel embraces him with open arms and parted lips.
Dean doesn’t pull away, his lifelong dream. The human finally wants this.
“Sam’s dead.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t call for you because I didn’t want to want you cause of grief. I wanted to make sure this is what I really wanted.”
Gabriel nods, “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Dean, of course I do. I know you need time. But I have been here, waiting.”
Gabriel can feel the human’s body relax completely and he takes him once more into his arms.
“Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me," he whispers into his neck, "I love you.”
“Love you too,” Dean whispers back.
They hold each other for several minutes. The archangel knows he needs this, needs someone to be there now to take away a good portion of his pain. He has been waiting for so very long to comfort him, months to take away the pain of losing his brother. He has breached Dean’s territory once and he will never do it again, instead of offering him force and power he will offer him love and security and endless hugs. He hears Dean sniffle and he’s pulled back into the weight of Dean leaning against him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Can I call you Gabe?”
“I’ve been waiting so long to have a nickname.”
Gabe entwines his hand with Dean’s and they walk off into the sunset. Dean doesn’t know it, but he pours some of his grace into his being, giving him a few extra dozen years. It’s not immortality, but it’s something. Dean looks over at him, and smiles as the last rays of sunlight make his eyes glow and features become incandescently beautiful. Gabriel can’t think of any more perfect moment.
“It’s all my fault you know. Everything. Sammy and Bobby and Castiel and you.”
Gabriel shakes his head and slips his hand under Dean’s chin, staring him straight in the eyes as the darkness descends upon them.
“It’s not.”
“Will you leave me?”
“No, never.”
When the kiss ends, there is no longer any light to be seen. But Gabriel loves Dean in the darkness as much as he does in the light. Because now he can feel Dean’s beauty instead of see it. He can now claim it as his own.
Let me silence you.
He stays with Dean for those few extra dozen years, and the rest of his life as well. Dean doesn’t ever tell him to leave. Instead he begs him to stay. And when the days become unbearable and Dean’s soul bends under the strain, he whispers those words either out loud or inside his head.
Let me silence you.
Dean lets him in sometimes and the rest of the time he tries. Dean longs to leave but he wants to stay. He loves Gabriel in some ways but in others there is pure unadulterated hatred. Gabriel doesn’t blame him, the past hangs down upon them like a volcano threatening to erupt. And when it does the archangel doesn’t know if he’ll be able to convince him to stay, or even if staying will be the best option. When it does, the archangel will not know if he’ll be able to silence Dean with his grace anymore. But he tries. He tries and that’s the only thing Dean will ever need from the both of them.
FIN
Supernatural: Dean/Gabriel
Written by OpheliacAngel
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: Teen
Summary/Warnings: Gabriel wants Dean...badly, desperately enough to do anything to him. But the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt him, only to make him happy. And maybe he's been thinking of himself and only himself for a little too long. Contains hints of sexual situations, but nothing explicit. Set during Season 7, I guess mainly towards the end, cause this is an unrealistic ending to the series. I suck when it comes to anything medical related, so that’s why I paired it down as much as possible and hope it sounds partly realistic. Anyways enjoy.
“Do you trust me, Dean?”
“No wait…”
Gabriel’s hand reaches down seductively to unzip Dean’s pants, meanwhile leaning closer and sticking out his tongue to lick Dean’s neck, probably force it through his mouth seconds later. Dean pulls away and nearly falls off the bed had the archangel not caught him in time. He looks around frantically for an exit, finding the door to be several feet away and seeming like miles from his position on the bed. Gabriel holds him close, whispering in his ear, as if him being here is completely normal.
“You’re," Dean took a deep breath, wondering why he couldn’t find the strength to pull away, "you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Now Dean, that’s not very nice. Would you prefer me to be dead?”
If the archangel is mad he certainly doesn’t show it, still working his way into Dean’s pants.
“No no, it’s not that. It’s just…”
“Just what, Dean? Aren’t you glad I’m here?”
“Gabriel, stop. Gabriel…”
The archangel’s lips are nearly on his own when he hears his name being screamed, feels someone shaking him. But wherever it is it’s not there.
He opens his eyes to find Sam shaking his arm frantically. He can barely hear what his brother is saying, in the process of trying to calm himself down without Sam thinking too much is wrong. He couldn’t believe that that was a dream, but shock was infinitely better than reality. If that was real, he didn’t think he would have been able to get away. That had been close.
“You okay?”
He shakes away the fog from his mind and looks up, “Yeah. Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Dean. Maybe it was because you were screaming for someone to stop.”
Sam walks away and Dean’s happy to get some space. He sits up and heads over to the bathroom.
“We’re leaving in ten, so don’t take too long in the shower.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
It was their way of knowing the other was okay, and not okay at the exact same time. He didn’t lock the door behind him because a part of him still didn’t believe that what had just happened, had been a dream after all.
…
They head over to some guy’s house to question him. He’s pretty sure Sam knows something is wrong, cause for the life of him he can’t remember the guy’s name, or what they’re thinking they’re hunting. And Sam is getting pretty damn sick of reminding him.
“What’s wrong with you today?”
Sam had just excused themselves and pulled Dean into the guy’s bedroom. He looks up from his coffee to find his brother’s suspicious gaze.
“What? Nothing, nothing is wrong.”
“Then explain to me why you end up staring into space instead of being my partner?”
Truth be told Dean was terrified, but he’d be damned if he showed that to Sam or anyone else. He’d been half-expecting for Sam to wake him up again, not able to grasp onto reality now that it seemed so real. Because the whole scene with Gabriel? Nothing had felt more real to him in his entire life. It wasn’t just the panic or the confusion, it was the colors, the sights, the smells. Gabriel’s voice was in his ear and it had sent real shivers down his spine. Sam seemed like a robot compared to Gabriel.
“Dean. Dean! Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
He snaps out of it to find Sam’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him and making him feel a teeny bit uncomfortable. He never wants to be restrained the way he had in that dream ever again. He brushes the hand away and takes a step back.
“You’re freaking me out here, Dean.”
“I’m fine! Let’s just get back to work.”
He walks away and takes the lead with the questions as soon as he sits back down. Sam looks at him the entire time as if he has sprouted wings. He can’t even remember what he had asked when they make it back to the car, he’s still a little out of it. But he doesn’t worry too much, questions come naturally and so does demon hunting.
“What are we hunting again?”
“No more burgers for you, Dean. I think someone poisoned the last one.”
“Yeah right.”
Dean sticks the key in the ignition and takes off to find a restaurant for lunch. He would not tell Sam what was going on, he was still trying to figure it out himself. Especially the part where he realized he actually kinda liked it. It made him feel... needed... wanted. Craved.
…
They’re in an empty house after lunch, exploring and trying to find some decent evidence of a monster attack. The house is a mess, considering it’s only been abandoned for little over a day. The drapes are gone, leaving the sunlight to do its job of blinding him and making him even more irritable than he already is. There are newspapers everywhere, overflowing off tables, crowding around the front door, and making the floor a hazardous place to walk on. Dean nearly trips and heads up clinging to the wall for support, Sam is meanwhile laughing his ass off several feet away.
“That’s why you watch where you step.”
“Shut up.”
Sam shakes his head at his idiot brother and sticks his head around a corner, his gun in the lead, to find probably the neatest room in the house, the kitchen. That’s not to say it’s not the ugliest room in the house, painted a sickening yellow and the walls adorning bright green cabinets. He can hear his brother mumbling behind him.
“Who keeps this many newspapers? You’d think a trashcan would come in handy at some point.
Freakin lunatic.”
Sam looks away from the eyesore of a kitchen and heads for the stairs, wondering whether he should send Dean up there.
“I’ll check the cellar, probably find a couple of clowns in there. Don’t want your screaming to give us away to the neighbors, Sammy.”
Dean’s right, the house is full of clown memorabilia, everything ranging from pictures on the wall to trinkets. Why oh why had Sam picked this case? His face instantly pales but Dean isn’t paying any attention, instead intently looking at a filthy newspaper he just found off the ground.
“What day is it today?”
“Uh…June 3rd.”
Dean shakes his head leading Sam to say, “What?”
He hands the paper over and Sam takes it, looking at the date while Dean still talks. It reads June 3rd, 2011.
“Didn’t Jay Morrow die on June 2nd? Yesterday?”
Sam immediately goes over the facts in his head, realizing soon that Dean’s right. He nods and continues staring at the newspaper, not believing what he is seeing. Dean beats him to the punch.
“So how in the world is that newspaper in this house?”
“Delivery guy could have accidentally delivered.”
Even when he’s saying it, Sam knows that’s not the case. He remembers the neighbor who had found Morrow’s dead body in the backyard say he had personally told the newspaper service not to deliver anymore to the house, being such a responsible neighbor and all.
“I highly doubt that.”
“So that means someone was in this house, early this morning, while the cops were here.”
Dean nods, “And I found this too.”
Sam looks up as his brother hands him another newspaper, this one covered in a boot print made of blood. Fresh blood.
“Definitely from this morning. As fresh as paint.”
He tastes a little and drops the newspaper to the ground in frustration.
“What?” Dean looks up.
“It’s ketchup, Dean.”
“No way.”
Dean tastes it for himself and he lifts his eyebrows in surprise.
“Actually doesn’t taste half bad.”
“Dean…” Sam’s patience is wearing thin.
“Alright alright. So it’s ketchup. Doesn’t matter, it still means someone was in the house this morning.”
“Unless it was a cop, who was eating and enjoying his daily newspaper on the job.”
“You’re such a downer, Sammy.”
“Yeah well, that could be the case.”
“Doubt it.”
“And why, exactly?”
“Cause, Dean gets up and looks Sam seriously in the eyes, you saw the tracks in the backyard. And I got a gut feeling about this. Like you say Sammy, people who collect clowns aren’t normal.”
Sam certainly couldn’t argue with that, “Fine. But we better find something else in this house that makes me a believer.”
Dean nods and walks towards a different set of stairs, these ones lead downstairs to a dark room that houses the cellar. He looks back at Sam.
“I’ll check the cellar for more newspapers. Maybe we’ll find something useful there.”
Sam takes his cue to leave and splits up from Dean to head upstairs. As soon as he’s gone from sight, Dean pulls his flashlight out of his pocket and is about to head down to the cellar when he hears a noise from the other room. He pulls out his gun and slowly heads to what appears to be the bedroom. He barely makes it to the doorway before he sees something that takes his breath away. Gabriel walks forward, toward him, shirtless and grinning seductively.
“Dean, so glad you decided to join me.”
The bewildered Winchester faints before he hears another word.
…
Gabriel’s tongue is in his mouth and is threatening to go ever deeper. On basic instinct, Dean wants to push away increasingly more each second that goes by. But he lingers there, on the bed, allowing Gabriel to take him away. Hopefully to a better place. His soft touch and sweet caress melt him whole, causing him to shiver as Gabriel’s hand finally makes his way inside. But Dean, scared now, pulls away. Gabriel pulls him back, but he doesn’t breach Dean again, instead letting his tongue find a home in his mouth once more. Dean kisses back hesitantly, hoping the archangel is satisfied and will continue to be satisfied. Gabriel’s tongue retreats and his lips pull off of Dean’s slightly, enough for him to utter more frightening and confusing words.
“I missed you, gorgeous. Your life force, your humanity, it keeps me going.”
Gabriel’s words make Dean turn suddenly bold, in a very strange way, as if it is not truly his boldness which he puts forth onto the archangel.
“Your words won’t seduce me. I know what you are. I know what you aim to do. You trick, you lie, you cheat. You are nothing but a filthy animal.”
Gabriel growls and picks the human up with considerable force, whose courage is completely lost now. He is thrown against the wall so quickly for a moment, he has no idea where he is, doesn’t want to. But he remembers when Gabriel’s teeth mark his skin, mark it so much it hurts. He cries out and bites his lip hard to prevent himself from crying out again. He cannot look at the archangel, when he does all he sees is rage. The destruction in his eyes, the sudden will to end Dean, is overwhelming him and he pushes back with everything he has. Unfortunately, it is not enough. Gabriel shoves him back and continues to hold him in place.
“You are foolish, human.”
He punches Dean so hard in the stomach he sees stars for longer than is possible. When he finally gets his vision back, the pain receding a little, he can see the archangel in his face, managing to keep himself under control. He drops Dean as blood begins to gush out of his mouth, it’s more blood than Dean’s seen in quite a while, not since he died. He doubles over in pain as his body hits the tile flooring. He can feel Gabriel standing over him, watching him, but he can’t look up. Black is coming in around the edges, numbing him and dizzying him. He stares at the carpet, willing the black to take him away from this place.
“You must know it was never my intention to hurt you. It’s merely in my nature.”
Dean finally lets himself give in to the black hole of unconsciousness.
…
Sam hears a loud noise downstairs and flies down the stairs as fast he can, gun in hand, ready to shoot. He drops his gun to the ground and stands in shock at the sight of Dean lying a foot away from him, seizing on the carpet. He has no experience with this kind of thing, but he rushes over to Dean anyway in extreme concern. He puts his fingers on his neck in a frantic search to find a pulse, though he can barely keep it together considering how much his hand is shaking and how much he is truly panicking right now. His pulse is erratic and ten times faster than it should be. He watches in horror as Dean’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, unhooks his belt and puts it in Dean’s mouth before he breaks his teeth, because he is biting down really hard.
“Stay with me, man. Stay with me.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials 911, his fingers barely able to press down the buttons. He can only just keep his voice straight as he talks, tears flowing out of his eyes rapidly. He wants to touch Dean, stop his arms and legs from moving nonstop cause he’s going to cramp up really bad later. But as much as he doesn’t know about seizures, he knows enough to be careful, to not touch his brother unless he absolutely has to. But he needs some form of contact so badly with Dean now, so he puts both his hands on his head and holds him, stroking back his hair and wiping the sweat pooling on his forehead, intermixing with his constantly falling tears. He finds a pillow nearby and puts it under Dean’s head, seeming to be the only form of comfort he can offer until the ambulance arrives.
“Just hold on, Dean. You gotta hold on for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, dude. And I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m gonna figure it out.”
He sits there and waits, for what must seem like hours. Dean stopped moving a while back, he’s now deadly still and Sam holds back more tears, knowing he needs to keep himself together. When the paramedics pull Dean out of his hands, he’s already completely lost it.
He doesn’t remember driving to the hospital, all he can think about is his big brother, suffering and he doesn’t have a clue why. He should have known, should have seen it, and he beats himself up about it now. The warning signs had gone off in his head and he had done nothing. But Dean’s stubbornness hadn’t helped either. Why couldn’t he just let him in? Where was the harm in that? Was he afraid Sam would judge him or something? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was afraid of what would be left of his brother in the hospital. But he refused to even think that Dean would be dead, his brother had survived a hell of a lot worse, and would continue to do so.
He was more than relieved when he pulled into the hospital parking lot, not only to see how Dean was doing, but also to give him reason enough not to think, about anything, at all. He would drive himself nuts with all the questions spinning around in his head so rapidly. He had no idea what had happened to Dean, would have no idea until he got his ass in there. And that right there practically made him sprint inside. But it was no use, no one would tell him anything about Dean, even after he filled out all the necessary and monotonous paperwork. He would just have to wait, and waiting caused more thinking. He was gonna kill himself.
“Mr. Winchester?”
He starts at the sound of his last name. How did he even get it? That meant Dean must have been awake and… oh no. He must have been terrified to not find his brother with him. Sam swallows down his guilt and tells himself now is not the time to obsess over what happened when he wasn’t here.
The doctor must have read his mind, “Your brother woke up briefly to give it to us. But he was still pretty much out of it, in no condition to talk.”
Sam finally stands up and walks over to the doctor.
“How is he?”
“He’ll be okay. He had a seizure.”
“Yeah, I could see that.”
“It was a good thing you called us when you did, Sam. Otherwise your brother might not have made it. And it’s also good that you didn’t hold down his limbs, since in many people this causes distress and further damage to the brain.”
“What happened?”
“He kept on calling out your name so we had to sedate him. We’ve got an IV running currently and we’ll need to monitor his blood pressure for a few days.”
“What about scans and all that?”
“We already ran an MRI and he came up clean. Considering it was only a mild seizure, we probably won’t need to run another scan.”
“So what caused it?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. It’s most likely he ran into something, maybe a wall or door. If he hit his head hard enough it could cause a seizure. Other than that possibility we really don’t know.”
Sam runs a hand through his hair. What the hell was going on with Dean?
“My brother, running into a wall? No way my brother is that stupid.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been done on purpose. Perhaps he was going through some distress at the time, serious headaches, nausea, dizziness? This could have caused him to lose his perception and balance, therefore collapsing and possibly hitting his head on a wall on the way down. It’s happened to many people before, Sam. This is nothing new.”
Or something’s causing it, Sam thinks. Someone. Like a demon, or even an angel.
Sam nods, far from satisfied but not sure what else he can ask.
“He can go home in a few days. You can go see him now if you like.”
And with that the absolutely useless doctor walks away, leaving Sam to his own methods of finding out just what had happened to his brother. Drilling Dean.
…
“Dean. Dean.”
He looks up to find Gabriel hovering over him. He’s still on the floor, still covered in blood and the dizziness is coming back now, hitting him with full force and he can’t breathe. He gags for several seconds then throws up only inches from his head. He’s surprised he could lift his head up for that, because it’s about to go down again, in his own vomit. And he can’t do anything about it.
He feels Gabriel’s warm hands hold his head up, preventing him from crashing back into the floor. He shivers, hard, and gasps as the archangel lifts him off the ground, placing him back on the bed and sits down next to him. He doesn’t breach any territory, doesn’t look at Dean in any seductive way. He’s completely changed now, which means Dean can allow himself to feel safe around him. He lets Gabriel wipe some of the blood off his face, not flinching and not pulling away. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, he only wants the archangel’s concern. And he is giving it to him without question.
“Sam’s worried about you. I should let you wake up now.”
“Unless," he trails a finger around his face, lingering on his cheek, "you choose to stay here with me. I’ll take care of you.”
It’s actually more than a little tempting for Dean. Gabriel is being nice and gentle now. And he knows he won’t play rough when he’s lying here helpless and sick like this. But he wants to get back to Sammy. Needs that one thing from him. So he begs.
“No. Please no.”
“As you wish.”
Gabriel’s fingers are placed on his forehead and he’s swept away to another room entirely.
The hospital room is cold, or maybe it’s just him. Sammy sits in a plastic chair on his right, asleep, his hand on his own cold one. He squeezes his little brother’s hand, but Sammy doesn’t wake up. He sighs and thinks back, trying to remember what had happened before Gabriel took him. But he can’t remember a goddamned thing, and he hates himself for it. A part of him thinks Gabriel will walk through the door straight ahead of him, whisk him away again, but he only ever appears to him in freakishly real dreams, and this isn’t a dream. It isn’t a dream because Sam doesn’t feel real beside him, and he doesn’t feel alive, not even when Sam wakes up a minute later.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself," Sam squeezes his hand and lifts up his other to pet his hair.
Dean doesn’t pull away, just sits there like a lump on a log, letting his brother treat him like a baby. If anything the petting is grounding him, making him feel that his brother is real, is sitting beside him really fussing over him. It feels good for a second before it gets old, before Sam gets the hint and his hand retreats. The staring is getting to him now.
“I’m not dead, Sam. You can turn away without worrying about me dropping dead.”
“I know that,” Sam whispers.
Why is he whispering? They have the whole room to themselves, and the hallway outside is quiet.
“You just really scared me back there.”
Dean nods, “What happened?”
“Collapsed, had a seizure.”
Sam puts his head in his hands and fights back tears, he can’t let his big brother see him cry.
“You’ve been out for twelve hours,” he continues.
“Can we go home now?”
“I’m supposed to keep you here for a couple days.”
Must he really beg? After all of this? Hadn’t begging Gabriel to see Sammy again been enough?
“Please, Sammy, wanna go home.”
And how truly pathetic he must sound.
Sam can’t deny him, not now. He knows how much Dean hates hospitals, and he doesn’t want to keep him here any longer than need be. Dean has already been through enough, and he knows he’ll be much more comfier in a motel, able to rest and recover. Plus this will also give him the chance to drill Dean on what’s been happening with him lately. Since his brother is still healing he won’t be able to escape him. Sam would finally get the answers he had been obsessing over.
“Okay," Sam nods, "but it has to be on my conditions. You have to take it easy for a while, I’m serious, Dean. We’re going to get you settled in at a nice motel and you’re gonna rest. Got it?”
Dean struggles to get out of bed but stops when Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, restraining his movements but gently, so Dean doesn’t freak out too much like he does when the archangel’s around.
“You gotta let me take care of you, man.”
Dean sighs, knowing the next few days are gonna be hell. But he doesn’t care about that right now, he’s out of Gabriel’s reach and back in Sammy’s safe arms. And that’s enough for him.
…
He hopes, deep down inside that Gabriel will give him some time with his brother. He doesn’t want to be sucked back down into his little world again, doesn’t want to be taken advantage of again, doesn’t want to have to feel scared and utterly vulnerable anymore. But he’d be lying if he said that Sammy’s touch was more comforting than the archangel’s. Gabriel’s touch on his face, on his cheek, was what ultimately grounded him, was what made him feel the safest he’s ever been. The shivering stopped as soon as he laid his fingers on him, the terror went away when his concerned gaze fell upon him. Gabriel had needs, just like every other creature, but he could be a real psycho at times. But Gabriel still had a heart. When he had seen what he had done to Dean he had turned frighteningly gentle, surprisingly panicked. The shock of the situation had calmed the human, almost made him want to stay on that soft bed in that nice room with that sweet and merciful archangel. But it still didn’t change the fact that Gabriel had hurt him, made him bleed, made him cry inside.
Sam helps him out of the car and into the dingy little motel, which looks entirely less appealing than the one he was in with Gabriel. He falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed and hours later he wakes up, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if Gabriel is looking down on him, thinking about whether to take him away again and abuse him some more. He chokes out his name and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see him right now. He doesn’t want to wake his brother up but he doesn’t want to be alone.
“Please don’t abuse me. I just want to see you. Just for a second.”
He feels fingers on his cheek and relaxes into the touch, knowing exactly who it is and relieved when he knows he shouldn’t be. He can feel Gabriel’s other hand on his chest, but it isn’t going lower, he’s giving Dean time.
“I thought you didn’t like me?”
“Me either, maybe I just like to be abused.”
He can picture Gabriel’s grin and opens his eyes to see the proof, but there’s nothing remotely like that on his face. The only thing that lies there is a deep frown.
“Don’t say that. I only want to make you happy I just… I get carried away at times. I hate to see you suffering.”
Dean just nods, he could care less if he allows himself to believe it or not. Gabriel is here and Gabriel is caressing him, and that is all he needs.
“You said it was in your nature,” he mumbles, though instantly regretting it.
The look on Gabriel’s face is pure heartbreak, but Dean remembers somewhere down inside that the archangel had brought this on himself, on the two of them.
“No, Dean. Look at me.”
He doesn’t look up into his eyes, the ceiling is a comfort for the time being.
“Look at me…”
“What if I don’t," Dean looks him straight in the eyes, "will you hit me?”
Gabriel looks angry and Dean thinks it’s because the angel believes he’s testing him. But it’s not that. It’s not that at all and he knows he should never forget that.
“What did I just tell you? I don’t like to hurt you.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t.”
Was is with him right now? Does he really want to test Gabriel again, like he did the last time, to see if he’ll hurt him again? He doesn’t feel like himself now, he can’t be himself now. Maybe he just wants Gabriel to feel guilty, and from what he can see, it’s actually working.
“You’re right. But I won’t allow myself to do it again. I lo…”
“You what? Tell me.”
There is a dangerously long silence. And neither of them are enjoying it.
“Why is it so hard to say?”
“Because I don’t deserve you. I don’t feel anything since I slammed you into that wall.”
He rolls off of Dean and now it’s the human’s turn to hover over the archangel.
“You don’t feel anything for me.”
“No, Dean, I don’t feel anything for myself. I told myself that if I really loved you then I would never hurt you. But I have, I have and I want you to know that was never my intention.”
“If you love me then why’d you try to rape me?”
The archangel appears to look horrified, although Dean could say he is faking it. But he doesn’t look like he is.
“Rape you? I…”
“Yeah, Gabriel, that’s what you call non-consented sex.”
“I wanted to make you happy, that’s all.”
“Did it look like I was happy?”
“Well...”
Now Gabriel was finally starting to see. Dean collapses back beside him on the bed, sighing and giving Gabriel some much needed time.
“I was selfish.”
Bingo.
“I didn’t think you’d ever like me that way, so I wanted to show you in my own way.”
“Maybe next time you should ask.”
Gabriel completely ignores that statement to scoot over and kiss Dean lightly on the lips. They lie there for several moments and think about that kiss. But then Dean lets his thoughts wander.
“That house, the ketchup and clown crap. You right?”
Gabriel tries to hide his grin but it is futile, he leans over to kiss Dean on the cheek.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Which means the dead guy, who seemed to mysteriously disappear from the morgue, was you.”
“I wanted you to figure it out. Knew you would.”
“So I could come to you willingly?”
The archangel nods and it is Dean who leans over to kiss him on the lips this time. This doesn’t mean he forgives Gabriel, it just means he understands a little more of what goes on inside his twisted mind.
“I should go.”
“Did I upset you?”
“Are you kidding me? I like you a hell of a lot better now that I know what your intentions are. But you have to wait, let me come to you okay?”
Gabriel takes Dean back and sprawls out on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got his Dean now, well almost. And he’ll wait for him to come to him. He’ll wait in heavy unbearable anticipation.
…
It’s a year before Dean comes to him. Of course to Gabriel it feels like a decade, but he promised Dean he would wait, and waited he has. Dean merely whispers his name, the wind starts to pick up and he’s beside him in moments.
“You came.”
“Dean, I would have waited for you for a century.”
“Don’t think I’m gonna live that long,” Dean laughs and Gabriel embraces him with open arms and parted lips.
Dean doesn’t pull away, his lifelong dream. The human finally wants this.
“Sam’s dead.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t call for you because I didn’t want to want you cause of grief. I wanted to make sure this is what I really wanted.”
Gabriel nods, “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Dean, of course I do. I know you need time. But I have been here, waiting.”
Gabriel can feel the human’s body relax completely and he takes him once more into his arms.
“Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me," he whispers into his neck, "I love you.”
“Love you too,” Dean whispers back.
They hold each other for several minutes. The archangel knows he needs this, needs someone to be there now to take away a good portion of his pain. He has been waiting for so very long to comfort him, months to take away the pain of losing his brother. He has breached Dean’s territory once and he will never do it again, instead of offering him force and power he will offer him love and security and endless hugs. He hears Dean sniffle and he’s pulled back into the weight of Dean leaning against him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Can I call you Gabe?”
“I’ve been waiting so long to have a nickname.”
Gabe entwines his hand with Dean’s and they walk off into the sunset. Dean doesn’t know it, but he pours some of his grace into his being, giving him a few extra dozen years. It’s not immortality, but it’s something. Dean looks over at him, and smiles as the last rays of sunlight make his eyes glow and features become incandescently beautiful. Gabriel can’t think of any more perfect moment.
“It’s all my fault you know. Everything. Sammy and Bobby and Castiel and you.”
Gabriel shakes his head and slips his hand under Dean’s chin, staring him straight in the eyes as the darkness descends upon them.
“It’s not.”
“Will you leave me?”
“No, never.”
When the kiss ends, there is no longer any light to be seen. But Gabriel loves Dean in the darkness as much as he does in the light. Because now he can feel Dean’s beauty instead of see it. He can now claim it as his own.
Let me silence you.
He stays with Dean for those few extra dozen years, and the rest of his life as well. Dean doesn’t ever tell him to leave. Instead he begs him to stay. And when the days become unbearable and Dean’s soul bends under the strain, he whispers those words either out loud or inside his head.
Let me silence you.
Dean lets him in sometimes and the rest of the time he tries. Dean longs to leave but he wants to stay. He loves Gabriel in some ways but in others there is pure unadulterated hatred. Gabriel doesn’t blame him, the past hangs down upon them like a volcano threatening to erupt. And when it does the archangel doesn’t know if he’ll be able to convince him to stay, or even if staying will be the best option. When it does, the archangel will not know if he’ll be able to silence Dean with his grace anymore. But he tries. He tries and that’s the only thing Dean will ever need from the both of them.
FIN