XOVER: SKIN TIGHT JEANS (SPN/GLEE) 2/3
Title: Skin Tight Jeans
Author: OPERATIONHADES
Beta: EGO_CENTRISME
Rating: NC17 (part three only)
Pairing: Debriel (Gabriel/Dean)
Word Count: 7K~ (this chapter), 19K~ (all)
Summary: Gabriel hates his life. Being one of the older siblings of a long line of Novak's going to Darlton Academy for Boys is boring, back home it's hell, and the only good thing in his life is being friends with the troubled, possibly tone-deaf, Dean Winchester of McKinley High.
AN: Did I really say a few days? Enjoy!
part one
PART TWO
"I just wanted to be a stage hand." Dean hissed quietly, glaring at Sam angrily. "Not an actual singer or dancer or whatever."
Sitting in a chair besides him, Sam rolled his eyes with passion as Mike and Tina sang something together. "Just so you could come to Regionals with me, yeah, I know. Gabriel told me."
Screw Gabriel! The little bitch had run off cackling after Dean had finished, tears streaming from his eyes in glee and gasping out a poor excuse nobody could make sense off. Sometimes, Dean wondered why he was friends with the asshole, especially considering he started off hating Gabriel and everything about him. He only learned Gabriel was Castiel's brother after he'd already made friends with Cas (who was freaking awesome, by the way), so he had learned to put up with him. Somehow, that barely-tolerating had turned to mutual-benefits (where Gabe could use Dean as an excuse for hanging out and Dean could actually make a joke someone would get), and that had turned to something closely resembling a friendship.
"Then you know I don't wanna sing." Dean bulldozed on anyway, using the fact Sam was completely in the know to his advantage. "You'll have to help me avoid all singing until we finish with the goddamn Regionals."
Sam snorted at him, an insulting noise that offended Dean greatly. "You reap what you sow." The little bitch singsonged, suspiciously sounding like he was paraphrasing an Adele's lyric.
Crept out by his little brother shooting Adele at him (no Winchester should ever sing Adele, or Gaga Lady (or whatever her name was!), or any of the numerous hip hop and rap artists out there), Dean scooped his chair a few inches away from Sam, scooting further when his brother shot him the Bitchface No. 26: 'Oh My God Dean, Seriously? You're Getting Freaked Out By This?' Sam might not have principles, or lines on what not to cross, but Dean sure as hell did, and it included singing anything that wasn't at least ten years old and with badass lyrics. Preferably while he was driving (too bad his dad rarely let him even touch Baby), or showering (which was his personal time dammit! How dare Sam break the sanctity of shower time?) or running away from whatever place dad had made him break into (because sometimes, while the security guards yelled and screamed at you to stop, you just needed to do a little Freddie Mercury, you know?). Not only had Dean already crossed one serious line (singing in front of crowds without even the prospect of getting laid - or well, maybe he could get laid, the cheerleaders in this club were definitely interested, fuck yeah), but now, in his birth given duty to protect his little brother, Dean had to be... a part of Glee Club.
Thankfully though, he hadn't turned out to be the laughing stock of the club (a spot apparently reserved for Mike Chang's singing skills - aka non-existent). In fact, everybody, including the Spanish teacher, had seemed surprised or whatever. Dean hadn't understood anything of what Berry said afterwards, something about raw potential and being untrained and "with my training, you'll be in top condition in no time," but as long as Dean never had to do it again, he'd write it off as a 'casualty of war'.
And by all that is holy (rock salt, iron and holy water), Sam was going to help him. Or else.
"Okay, everyone!" Mr. Schuester clapped to get their attention. Apparently, the two Koreans had finally finished singing. Dean hadn't even known there were Koreans in McKinley before today. "Regionals are in two days! So let's all go to the auditorium and practice. Dean, we'll bring you up to speed so you and Sam can make sure you get it right by the time we head off, okay?" Dean waved a hand dismissively, planning on mouthing the words or something, but besides him, Sam nodded in answer, satisfying Mr. Schuester. "Great. Come on, guys. Two days! Let's do this!"
. . .
On the next day, Dean decided to tell John Winchester.
Dean wasn't a newcomer in trying to get his dad to let them do things, be it to go to the nearby park or to the football game between the school and their rival, and he had learned from experience that there was a certain method to go in order to gain the best results. Sometimes, usually when it was just one of them that wanted to go somewhere, John just refused, and nothing could change his mind - Dean knew when to bow out and accept defeat - but othertimes, it was the wording that could nab them the victory. Not just the wording but the timing too.
With toast on their plates and orange juices in their glasses (coffee for John, Dean would sneak a gulp or two when his dad left the kitchen, much to Sam's ire), Dean decided breakfast was the best time of attack.
"The school is taking us out for a field trip tomorrow, Dad." Dean casually shot out, smearing a bit more butter on his toast. "Some extracurricular thing for all grades. Apparently, I don't have as many credits as I thought I had, so I have to go. Sam wants to come with."
Not essentially a lie - Glee Club was extracurricular and for all grades. And Dean really didn't have as many credits as he probably should. Sam didn't react in anyway next to Dean, only perking up and looking interested, as if he really did want to just come with and keep Dean's bored ass company. Dean wasn't fooled though - the slight tic in his brother's left eyebrow was an annoyed one, one that spoke of Dean getting lectured afterwards for delicately lying to their father - something Dean outright denied because come on, this was so not lying.
In response, John grunted, swallowing down his own toast - with jam and cheese - with a gulp of coffee. "Will it take long?"
"Nah," came the smooth answer. Dean already knew they had won just from John's non-interested reply. "Worst case scenario, we'll be back in the evening, but at the latest - because of traffic - we'd still be home before ten."
"'Kay." Their dad answered. "Make sure to charge your phones and take the chargers with you. Take care of your brother too Dean, and be vigilant." Dean gave the required "yessir", but John had already turned his attention to Sam. "And you keep an eye on your brother and make sure he does the damn work, okay Sammy?"
Sam grinned, dimples flashing in both cheeks, and gave a similar "yessir" as Dean squawked incredulously. For once, Sam didn't call John out on the 'Sammy'.
Hence, it was a good morning.
. . .
A sniff then a deep inhalation of the air as Gabriel entered the auditorium rented out for the Regionals. Dean was besides him, wearing a smart black dress shirt pressed down over black slacks, the shirt's sleeves folded up to the elbows to reveal his forearms. Gabriel himself wore the usual Dalton uniform, nothing fancy there, unfortunately.
"Smell that, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, placing his hands on his hip as he stood on the stage. Nobody had arrived yet, the seats were devoid of life and both boys' respective teams were in the locker rooms touching up on their makeup - or, well, the girls in Dean's group were touching up on their makeup, and maybe the queers in Gabriel's group, who knew? "This, my mere mortal source of entertainment, is the smell of showbiz. Of Broadway. Of music!"
Dean groaned next to him, slapping at Gabriel's shoulder. "You sound like Berry." He moaned but dutifully sniffed at the air. "Besides, I'm pretty sure this place just smells of that citrus-y freshness you get on the window cleaners or something."
True. But nobody needed to mention that.
"Whatever. What're you guys singing anyway? And I cannot wait to hear you sing, Dean-o! They even already got you in a costume!"
Dean snorted besides him, scowling down at his clothes as he self consciously straightened out non-existent kinks. "Can't tell you." He said. "Sam made me promise I wouldn't tell the enemy of our battle plans. He went on this whole rant about how we were on different sides of a war and I needed to solidify my loyalties or whatever. Kid's freaking mental, I swear."
Huffing, Gabriel spun on his heels to face Dean, craning his neck upwards in irritation at the sudden reminder that Dean was taller than him. Why would a Junior be taller than a Senior, Gabriel would never know - just another injustice of the world, along with Dalton, annoying big brothers and everything. "Peacock's probably trading fashion tips with Rachel anyway," he pointed out, and at Dean's blank look, Gabriel gave an explosive sigh and clarified. "Kurt Hummel, gay kid who ran away from your school to ours to embrace his homosexual tendencies with Blaine Anderson?" Dean had looked blank at the mention of the ex-McKinley High student but at the words 'gay kid who ran away', he snapped his fingers in recognition before returning to blank look.
"And... Who's Rachel?"
"Oh my god," Gabriel exclaimed. "Rachel Berry! Berry! Psychopathic female with a set of pipes and frightening dreams of Broadway. Bastard child of the ex-manager of Vocal Adrenaline, the lady with the awesome jaw, and the girl with the two gay dads!"
"Oh," Dean muttered. Then, "Oh!" as he finally realized who Gabriel was getting at. He shrugged unapologetically, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "I'm not here to make friends, Gabe. Already got my hands full with you alone. I think the whole 'friends' slot is completely full anyway if you add Cas, Sammy and freaking Balzathar - who sucks but is the best wing man I have ever seen, I get laid more then once whenever he's even around, Jesus."
Rolling his eyes - only reason why that happened was because Balzathar had absolutely no morals - Gabriel caught sight of some black blazers with red lining coming up to the stage, and quickly grabbed Dean and pulled, alternating it with a push once Dean was in the opposite direction of the oncoming Warblers. "Dammit," he cursed. "Hurry up, you gotta leave, it's show time."
Dean craned his neck backwards and, catching sight of the boys, grinned at Gabriel, puckering his lips together suggestively into a ridiculous kiss. "Awww, don't want them to know you have a boyfriend? You know, we could give Peacock and his boy toy a run for their money just by standing together."
Flushing as he stared at the sinfully plush lips directed at him - he wasn't noticing it dammit - Gabriel tried kicking Dean, grumbling to himself as Dean dodged with a laugh and finally got off the stage, ducking behind the partitioner as the Warblers got on stage. By the time his fellow classmates reached him, he was able to fully stamp down on his blushing, getting it under some semblance of control. Still, he kept having flashes of what he'd like to do about Dean's suggestions and hell yes, they'd give the two lovebirds a run for their money.
Bouncing next to him, Blaine comfortably shouldered Gabriel lightly, grinning at him. "You ready to blow their minds and win, Novak?"
He hated being called by his family name, something everybody at school did, but Gabriel just plastered a grin on his face and replied with the expected answer. "You know it, Anderson."
As one, they left the stage, getting into position as the doors opened up and people started streaming into the auditorium and seating themselves. The Warblers wouldn't be going first - no, that spot was left for some other group Gabriel couldn't give a damn about - but they were second, meaning he'd get to settle down into his seat and watch Dean (and OK, fine, sasquatch Sammy too) rock it out on the stage. The thought brought a real grin to his face, one more genuine than the one he'd just granted Blaine next to him but he stamped it down as someone picked up the mic and started welcoming everyone to the Regionals.
Time to rock and roll.
. . .
"...and in second place... Dalton Academy's Warblers!"
. . .
As they all stood on the stage, all three Glee Club's of different schools, Gabriel's eyes met Dean's and the two shared a grin. Dean had an arm slung over Sam's shoulder - luckily still able to do it since Sam still was an inch or so shorter than Dean, but for how long that would still be the truth was anybody's guess - and the whole cast of New Direction were breathing heavily, still coming down from the high of performing just moments before.
Gabriel didn't even care if he suspected Dean had been mouthing all the words (though he was pretty damn sure Dean had actually gotten carried away toward the end and actually sang, if the way Sam's head had suddenly whipped toward his brother in pleased shock, had been an indication), because it had definitely been worth it to see Dean dance. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was something Gabriel was going to treasure until his death bed. To treasure, and to use as blackmail material. Oh, the blackmail.
The announcer had already gotten rid of the group in third place, neither the Warblers or New Directions. They were the only ones left, huddled together with only a small space in between. The amount of familiarity between the groups was something ironic to contemplate; Kurt Hummel, former New Directions member, and Gabriel being long-standing friends with Dean and Sam Winchester (the latter was a love-hate relationship, Gabriel had no disillusions about that). Second place was about to be announced, the speaker dragging it out for suspense, and when finally, the group was named, New Directions burst into ecstatic glee and immediately fell into each other in a huge group hug. They broke apart almost immediately, the girls jumping on Kurt Hummel and even Blaine - familiar with the two - and Gabriel found himself getting a surprise hug attack from a gangly Sam babbling at five miles per second and-
"Whoa, whoa, easy there tiger."
-Oh thank god, now he could breathe.
Dean patted him on the back sympathetically as Sam blushed in embarrassment, shrugging almost a minute later (enemies again) and disappearing to continue celebrating with his friends. Gabriel was alone with Dean, who had a wickedly smug grin on his face, acting cool as a cucumber.
"Oh, laugh it up, big boy." Gabriel wheezed, hacking to clear his throat from Sammy's attack before speaking again. "It's obvious people just voted on looks factor. No way could we win with you in their sleeves."
A startled laugh came from Dean, pleasing Gabriel greatly. "Should I be blushing, Gabe? That sounded like you believe I'm the hottest person around."
Scoffing (of course Dean was the hottest around, Gabriel had eyes, and damn good eyes at that), Gabriel waved Dean off, deciding not to actually answer for both their safety. "Yeah well, guess you won. I'd say your dad would be proud but I think it's even better if I say I'm proud. Or Cassy would be proud. Yeah, Cassy would definitely be proud. He'd be quietly glowing or something - hey, maybe he's in the crowds?"
Dean didn't reply though, instead dropping his hands onto Gabriel's shoulder, holding him in place. Gabriel arched an eyebrow at the Junior, trying to figure out the strange expression on Dean's face. "You alright, Dean? Lookin' bit strange there, fellah."
Dean took a deep breath, through his nose, as is fortifying himself against something. "Just... Punch me, or something, if you don't want to, okay?"
"If I don't want to wha-"
He couldn't answer, something was blocking his mouth, something was on Gabriel's lips. Something soft and plush and warm. And Dean's face was really, really, close. For a moment, everything just went silent - the celebrating happening right next to them, Sam's voice rising as someone gave him a hug, the cheers of the crowd right besides them - and all Gabriel could see was Dean's face, Dean's closed eyes, the furrow in between his eyebrows that spoke of apprehension, as if Dean was afraid of how Gabriel would react. All he could see was the freckles scattered across the bridge of Dean's nose and upper cheeks and the ridiculously long eyelashes. That's when he realised why his lips were suddenly paralysed, unable to move of his own violation, kidnapped from his control.
It was because Dean was kissing him.
Dean was kissing him.
Holy shit.
. . .
After that, somehow, the two groups ended up going their own ways back to school, and everything just blurred until Gabriel found himself swamped with exams. This year was particularly important for him, with him being a senior and all. He had already send applications to practically every university he could find across the pond, as well as a few in America just to appease the dictators of his household, working his butt off to make damn sure his reports, and everything else, were up to par to some of the school's he'd sent applications too.
The Warblers had taken their defeat at the Regionals better than expected. It was hard not too when the New Directions had belted out original songs nobody had ever heard before, Rachel Berry showing once more she had the talent - but not quite the personality. From what Gabriel knew of the school, it'd been obvious to see where Loser Like Me came from, though he'd found it more entertaining to think of how the Winchester brothers in particular would be avoiding Sue Sylvester after singing that on stage. Especially since the fearsome coach hadn't quite done anything to either of them, yet.
Dean tended to somehow avoid things like that anyway and no doubt Sam would've happily gone in the same route with only a bare minimum of exposure due to being in the club. He didn't know how the brothers were doing, or if Dean realised what winning actually meant for New Directions, that this time, the Nationals took place in New York City, a whole different state. How Dean would be able to convince John Winchester to let them go for that was a worry Gabriel didn't have the leisure of entertaining. Dean could handle himself, had been handling himself for years before they'd met, and would carry on handling himself after too. Gabriel had no doubt about that - maybe Dean liked having Gabriel around. After all, he surely liked having Cas as a friend, the two were usually inseparable, but Dean Winchester had grown up with only three other constants. His dad, his annoying little brother, and the car he often called 'Baby'. Anything besides those three Dean could do without if he had too, even pie if push came to shove.
So Gabriel had to think about himself, his future, what he was going to do now. Gabriel had always known right from the start that the first chance he got, he was getting the hell out of America. The envelope in his hands held the key to that freedom, a red logo with the title Universitetet i Oslo emblazoned on it like a siren call. He ripped the envelope apart in his haste to get to the folded up paper within, his heart latched in his throat as trembling fingers unfolded it open and the printed words blurred into focus.
He read the words, reread them, and read them one more time just to make sure. Gabriel shot out of his bedroom and straight to the backyard where Castiel and Balzathar sat, hiding the paper until he was sure none of the other children were around. He skidded to a stop right in front of them, his face breaking out into a huge, ecstaticgrin as he brandished the paper like a weapon, trembling too hard to keep it still so they could see,before Balzathar finally ripped it out of his hands and smoothed the paper out for him. Castiel leaned in and peered at it.
Only for them both to pour a bucket of ice cold water on him when they immediately frowned. "You're going to leave Dean?"
What kind of a question was that? Gabriel snatched his paper back, the grin slipping off his face like water in the face of their killjoy, and huffed in irritation. "Dean's a Junior, of course I was going to end up leaving him. We're not even in the same school, for Father's sake." Hey, he was named after an archangel, so by all intents and purposes, God was his daddy. "Besides, he always knew I was gonna get out of here as soon as I could." Why was he even explaining himself to them? It wasn't like he was hitched to Dean or anything. That kiss had obviously been a mistake, otherwise Dean would've hunted him down and continued right where he'd left off - neither of them were shy about that sort of thing anyway. Obviously Dean had realised he'd just been riding on the thrill of winning, something that had been completely new for him but Gabriel had been used too, and the adrenaline rush and euphoria had made him do something he would normally never do. Gabriel couldn't see why he felt defensive in the face of Castiel and Balthazar's reaction. It was going to be bad enough trying to explain this to the big three when Gabriel couldn't hold it off anymore.
Because that, Gabriel knew, was going to end badly.
. . .
Now this, Dean thought sourly, was going to end badly.
His dad had found the papers Mr. Schuester had forced them to take home, the ones asking for permission from the parents to take their Glee Club kids to New York for the Nationals. Something Dean had not signed up for but apparently had to see through because Sam was goddamn freaking excited about it. Sam had always liked big cities, be it New York or San Francisco, but the Winchester's journey rarely ever coincided with any of them, John preferring to take them through small towns like Lima, Ohio. The Regionals had been great, Dean wasn't going to lie, the thrill and excitement of doing something like that? Almost similar to the high Dean got from the 'hunts' John had started taking him regularly on when Dean turned twelve. Sure, Dean knew teaching your thirteen year old son how to recognise patterns of murder and crime the police hadn't even picked up on yet wasn't exactly something normal society smiled upon, but if it meant Dean helped out his old man, then Dean would do it - give his dad some peace of mind so he could focus on finding Mom's killer.
And yeah, OK, so Dean hadn't seen Gabe ever since the Regionals too, but Cas told him the older teen was up to his neck in finals, and Dean had accepted it easily enough. It didn't matter because Dean knew he'd see Gabriel afterwards and even as the other got ready for college, Gabe would make time for him so they could shoot the shit and just hang out or something. Dean would make the best of the last summer he had with him, because he knew for sure that as soon as Gabe went abroad, they wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. Not forever - hell no, Dean was planning on tracking Gabriel down a few years after Sam settled (probably in Stanford or some place equally huge and mind boggling) and his dad had gotten their mom's killer and finally relaxed - but for a while they'd be too far to talk. It was a small price to play.
What wasn't small though was this argument.
"Singing, Dean?!" John shouted, shaking the fist he was holding the paper with. "That's what you're wasting your and your brother's time on? That's what the extracurricular crap was about?"
"Dad," Dean tried again calmly, hoping to god Sam would shut up and not say a word. "It's just for a few days. Everything's sorted and nothing will happen."
John pushed himself off his chair and paced furiously, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he balled up the permission paper into a wrinkly ball. "Of course nothing will happen!" He spat out, rounding on Dean and looming with his impressive height. "Because it's singing! It's a show choir! Nothing happens on these damn things! You're not going. Either of you!"
"Dad-"
"You can't just say no." Sam's voice interrupted, loud and defiant as he stood to his full height, still a few inches short of John and one or two of Dean. "These are the Nationals, Dad. We have to go!"
John laughed bitterly, his face screaming his incredulity at the situation, and ignored Sam as he stared Dean down. "I just got a lead on your mother's killer, Dean, and I need you to come with me. Are you going off to sing and dance or are you coming with me to kill the SOB that took your mother away?"
Faltering, Dean's eyes swept to Sam, seeing his brother's face go from righteous indignation to quiet resignation. Dean never said no to a hunt, had done nothing but show enthusiasm for it too. He still remembered their mother, Mary, still remembered her unlike Sam, and he wanted to avenge his mother just as much as the next guy. But this wasn't the first time dad got a lead on a no-named person, this probably wouldn't be the last either, and Dean had yet to see any progress in what his Dad had been doing in the past ten years.
So would he give in, and be the good son, knowing they'd probably be coming back empty? Or the good big brother, and stand up for Sammy and the one thing he wanted since coming to Lima, Ohio? The one thing they probably wouldn't get a chance to do next year because they'd be in a whole different city that didn't have a Glee Club, or one as good as New Direction's?
"We're going to the Nationals, Dad." Dean finally answered, keeping his eyes on Sam and away from John, unable to see the disappointment in his father's eyes. "I-... I'm sorry."
There was no answer. Nothing but silence before John moved away, walked up the stairs to his bedroom, his heavy boots making noise on the living room ceiling as he packed his things. Dean swallowed the thick lump in his throat, wondering for a split moment if he had done the wrong thing until Sam came up close to him and hooked his index finger in Dean's pinky, something he used to do when he was just a baby.
Dean knew he did the right thing.
. . .
Gabriel knew, deep in his heart and everything that made him, that he'd done the right thing.
It didn't matter how much Lucian discouraged and cajoled into making Gabriel doubt and question himself. It didn't matter how many times Michael warned him he'd be kicked out of his inheritance. And really it didn't matter how Raphael cursed having Gabriel for a little brother, calling him worthless and a spineless coward.
Gabriel knew he'd done the right thing because he could feel it was the right thing to do. He had always known his big brothers would be against it.
He didn't know how he was going to afford a place to stay in Oslo, or how he was going to feed himself, or even buy the necessary equipments. He didn't know how he was going to get over the language barrier - despite the fact the university taught in English and that most Scandinavians could speak English perfectly anyway. He had no clue how he was going to survive on his own, away from his family, who, despite being downright dicks sometimes, he still loved with every fibre of his being. However, he was still going to do it because he had too. If he stayed here any longer and went to the university Lucian and Michael ordered him to go, went wherever he was herded like some damn cattle, he'd go crazy. And that was no way to live.
"I'm leaving." He said, speaking over the din of his three brothers arguing at once. "And nothing you say or threaten me with, will change my mind."
"You'll regret this, Gabriel." Lucian said sympathetically, always pretending he wasn't a manipulative bitch. "And then you'll just come back here, telling us we were right. Listento us, little brother. We only want what's best for you."
Gabriel shook his head, calm in the face of their anger. "No. I'm leaving. I wish you could just accept this and wish me luck but I have always known that was asking too much. I hope you guys live a good life and take care of each other because you're still my brothers and I still love you, despite you all being colossal dicks." And then, because his heart ached at the notion of leaving Balzathar and little Castiel behind, he decided to imitate his latter brother and tacked on a solemn, "Goodbye." grinning ruefully at the way it made him sound.
Spinning on his feet, he headed out of the green house where he had been called in for an attendance, and walked back into the main foyer of the Novak house, planning on going to his room to pack immediately. He was leaving now, two months ahead of graduation but he already knew he was going to pass and had talked his way into taking the end of year exams early. Before he could leave thought, Michael's voice boomed his name, stopping Gabriel and making him turn around to face his eldest big brother.
"Is there nothing I can do you to change your mind?" Michael asked, voice low and soothing, his clear blue eyes silently asking for a way to fix this, to make things right.
Gabriel figured he knew what Michael was thinking. As the eldest, he was the one in charge of all of them after Mother died and Father went missing with nothing but a goodbye note. He would think this was his fault, and had only argued against the notion so much because he couldn't bear the idea of any of them leaving his safety. Norway was far away, Europe was far away, and the Novak influence didn't extend that far. "Nope." Gabriel smiled, walking back to Michael to clasp him on the shoulder, not sure whether a hug would be welcomed. "But... Take care of the little ones, ok? I've already said bye."
Michael clasped him back on the shoulder, ran a hand through Gabriel's hair like he used too when Gabriel was younger, and nodded once. "Very well, little brother." He murmured, letting go by forcibly taking a step back. "Take care of yourself."
Gabriel nodded, turned around, and walked to his room. He got his things - all already folded and put away - and dragged them back downstairs and out of the house. With a final glance back, a wave and a cheeky grin he didn't feel like giving to the peering faces of Balzathar and Castiel in the top third window, he hailed himself a taxi and demanded to be taken to the airport.
. . .
New York City was huge, noisy, and bright. And Dean hated it.
Granted, he hated a lot of the big cities, had an unexplainable fear of Chicago, an unexplainable deep hatred of Detroit, and something that grabbed his throat and choked him whenever the name Pontiac came about. But he sucked it up, reminding himself this was for Sam and, somewhat, for himself too, that their dad needed to see that sometimes, other things were more important than a lead or two which everyone knew had very little chance of panning out.
The cast of New Directions were besides themselves. Sam was being dragged left, right and centre by Mercedes and Rachel while Dean hung in the back to trade pranks with Puck, along with hushed comparisons of the ladies in Lima ("Mrs. Wilson is a cougar, Winchester. I'm telling you. I can't believe you said no because her husband was at Breadsticks.").
When the day of the competition came, all decked out in all their uniform, all their lines and dance moves memorised (Dean still couldn't believe he was dancing but what the hell, it might help when he needed to jump over a hurdle in a hunt or something), they belted out their original songs and the crowd went wild.
Until Rachel and goddamn-fucking-Finn kissed right as they nailed it.
Then they lost. Didn't even place in the top ten.
As Ms. Pillsbury ushered everybody into the bus, Mr. Schuester walked up towards Dean, sitting besides him on the pavement outside the hotel they'd been staying at. Dean grunted a greeting, too busy with people watching and freaking out over returning back home, and didn't speak up.
"Is... everything alright, Dean?" Mr. Schuester asked carefully, watching the people pass by in colourful clothes besides Dean.
Dean grunted, finding it typical that would be the first question, and only nodded in reply.
"Dean..." Mr. Schuester sighed. "I know we all had huge expectations. We all wanted to win! But... Sometimes, things don't work out that way. We do still have next year, you know."
Unable to hold back the snort that came at that, Dean shook his head. "It's not that." He admitted, even if he was a little ticked off about ending up in twelve place because of two teenagers who couldn't keep it in their pants. At least he'd only kissed Gabriel after they finished and were celebrating. And they really didn't have next year, after this stunt, John was bound to get them out of here and to some other small town, get them away before they could make any more lasting ties. Dean knew how his dad's head worked. "Sam's probably pissed off though." He grumbled, watching the ramp on the bus go up as Artie waited patiently. "You should go talk to him before he becomes a little evil bitch and tries getting revenge on Berry and Hudson."
Mr. Schuester smiled, probably not realising the magnitude of Sam's bitchiness or how dangerous his revenge plots could be, because of course the little bitch had everybody thinking that he was a genuine angel. Berry and Hudson had better watch their backs for the next two months. "You know Dean? I'm actually happy."
Glancing over at the Spanish teacher, Dean cocked an eyebrow.
His smile growing into a grin, Mr. Schuester shrugged self consciously. "It's just. You joined. You started showing life and actually participating. You've made friends with Puck - despite me thinking you and him were going to fight each other on who was more badass or something - and you've done nothing but surprise us all. Except maybe Sam. He's really proud of you, you know."
Snorting again, Dean shook his head. "I'm the big brother. I should be proud of him." And then, realising how wrong that could be taken, he coughed a bit. "Which I am." He muttered, looking away. "Proud of him, that is."
"And I'm proud of you." Mr. Schuester replied without missing a beat, standing up and patting Dean on the back. "As I'm sure your parents are. You're more than just a good kid, Dean. You're a great kid. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
Looking up at the Spanish teacher, Dean searched for something to reply with, not used to the praise or compliments, and was thankfully saved by the ringing of his phone. Digging into his pockets, he pulled it out - hoping for a second it was Gabriel calling to ask whether they'd won or not - and was surprised to see it was an unknown number. Although a bit wary, Dean decided it could be anybody - probably his dad calling from wherever he'd gone for his lead - pressed the green button and put it to his ear.
"... hospital... was suicide... gun... we lost him..."
He dropped the phone.
. . .
The bus was quiet when they entered the school's grounds. Sam's red splotched face was smashed against his brother's collarbone, the t-shirt wet from Sam's tears. Dean stared out of the window blankly, his mind working despite his shock, letting him think things through without the threat of emotion pulling him under.
How was he going to take care of Sam now? He had maybe a few hundred dollars stashed somewhere and could probably scrounge a few more if he went through John's things. Maybe even a thousand or two if he sold some of John's stuff and hustled with it to triple. What if CPS decided to take Sam away? He might have to call Bobby, or Pastor Jim, and have them come over and pretend to be relatives. But Dean didn't want to bother them too much, not if he could handle this by himself, and maybe he could, if he just stashed Sam in the Impala and drove. Far away, to the other side of the country and lie about his age to make it legal, put Sam in another public school and went to work to pay for everything.
The bus finally came to a stop. Dean turned his head away from the window and frowned a bit as Sam's hair tickled his nose but watched silently as the members of New Direction got out of the bus slowly, quietly, in deference to Sam finally unconscious from crying his heart out onto Dean's own chest. Dean liked to think Sam had poured all his hurt into Dean, from one heart to the other, trusting his big brother to take care of him and make things better. Dean would if he could. He'd do anything in his power to stop this nightmare from being real, to stop Sam from shedding tears, and to stop the wide eyed look of horror and sympathy on the other kids' faces. He was sure he'd heard Tina quietly cry into Mike's chest, which oddly made Dean feel a little better, grounded him a bit harder to Earth, to the reality of life and their life, the Winchester life. Death was something that had loomed not in the horizon but right above their heads all the time, Dean had known this, did know this-
-He'd just never expected it to happen while they'd been away. Separated.
"...an? Dean?"
Looking up, Dean swallowed as Mr. Schuester grimaced in what should have been a smile, and realised the bus was empty except for the three of them. He looked down at Sam, at little Sammy, his little brother, sleeping, and decided waking him up wasn't worth it. Carefully, he dislodged himself out of the seat, slipped his arms around his little brother and hefted Sam up onto his back, feeling Sam's head easily fit into the space from his neck to shoulder and followed Mr. Schuester out of the bus.
Castiel was the first person he saw, standing silently besides Balthazar. Besides them was Bobby, gruff and familiar Bobby, just waiting for them to need him so he could help. The lack of Gabriel was like a fist to his solar plexus, stealing the air from him and making it hard to breathe, but Dean consoled himself that something must have happened and he would be here soon, or maybe was getting things ready for them, for their arrival, though where there was eluded him.
Taking a ragged breath deep into his lungs, Dean walked up towards them, knowing and feeling Puck and the other's eyes on him, and stood in front of Castiel, Balthazar and Bobby, Sam on his back, and couldn't bring himself to look them in the eye.
"Dean."
Swallowing thickly, Dean nodded to Castiel, confirming that he'd heard, that he knew his dad was gone, dead, all because Dean had been too selfish to put his father's needs before his own. Suddenly, he needed Gabriel to be there, to be here, with Dean, helping him deal with this the way Gabriel instinctively knew how to, needing him to just be here for Dean and a constant, something Dean hadn't failed. So he looked up and stared into Castiel' terrifying blue eyes. "Where's Gabe...?"
The same blue eyes bored back at him, staring at him without blinking, and for a while Castiel didn't reply. Then, when Dean was dimly entertaining the notion of panicking for real, thinking that maybe John wasn't the only one gone, to have died, Castiel blinked once, slowly, dark eyelashes going down and up again, and Dean knew he wasn't going to like what his best friend said next.
"Gabriel left for Oslo University yesterday, Dean. He's no longer here."
The words swirled around him, drowning him in a deafening roar, and he must have swayed where he stood because next thing he knew Bobby was holding him, his gruff voice a balm on Dean's raging thoughts but too low for the Winchester - the eldest Winchester alive now - to make out. Dean's everything had been ripped out from under his feet a few hours ago, by some woman on the telephone claiming to be a doctor, that his father had died, committed suicide with a gun - a Colt, she'd said, the word unfamiliar on her tongue but like a lightning of recognition to Dean - and told him he was gone, dead, shuffled off this mortal coil, and Gabriel had left too.
Gone. Just gone. Gabriel was gone.
And he hadn't even said goodbye.
PART THREE
Author: OPERATIONHADES
Beta: EGO_CENTRISME
Rating: NC17 (part three only)
Pairing: Debriel (Gabriel/Dean)
Word Count: 7K~ (this chapter), 19K~ (all)
Summary: Gabriel hates his life. Being one of the older siblings of a long line of Novak's going to Darlton Academy for Boys is boring, back home it's hell, and the only good thing in his life is being friends with the troubled, possibly tone-deaf, Dean Winchester of McKinley High.
AN: Did I really say a few days? Enjoy!
part one
PART TWO
"I just wanted to be a stage hand." Dean hissed quietly, glaring at Sam angrily. "Not an actual singer or dancer or whatever."
Sitting in a chair besides him, Sam rolled his eyes with passion as Mike and Tina sang something together. "Just so you could come to Regionals with me, yeah, I know. Gabriel told me."
Screw Gabriel! The little bitch had run off cackling after Dean had finished, tears streaming from his eyes in glee and gasping out a poor excuse nobody could make sense off. Sometimes, Dean wondered why he was friends with the asshole, especially considering he started off hating Gabriel and everything about him. He only learned Gabriel was Castiel's brother after he'd already made friends with Cas (who was freaking awesome, by the way), so he had learned to put up with him. Somehow, that barely-tolerating had turned to mutual-benefits (where Gabe could use Dean as an excuse for hanging out and Dean could actually make a joke someone would get), and that had turned to something closely resembling a friendship.
"Then you know I don't wanna sing." Dean bulldozed on anyway, using the fact Sam was completely in the know to his advantage. "You'll have to help me avoid all singing until we finish with the goddamn Regionals."
Sam snorted at him, an insulting noise that offended Dean greatly. "You reap what you sow." The little bitch singsonged, suspiciously sounding like he was paraphrasing an Adele's lyric.
Crept out by his little brother shooting Adele at him (no Winchester should ever sing Adele, or Gaga Lady (or whatever her name was!), or any of the numerous hip hop and rap artists out there), Dean scooped his chair a few inches away from Sam, scooting further when his brother shot him the Bitchface No. 26: 'Oh My God Dean, Seriously? You're Getting Freaked Out By This?' Sam might not have principles, or lines on what not to cross, but Dean sure as hell did, and it included singing anything that wasn't at least ten years old and with badass lyrics. Preferably while he was driving (too bad his dad rarely let him even touch Baby), or showering (which was his personal time dammit! How dare Sam break the sanctity of shower time?) or running away from whatever place dad had made him break into (because sometimes, while the security guards yelled and screamed at you to stop, you just needed to do a little Freddie Mercury, you know?). Not only had Dean already crossed one serious line (singing in front of crowds without even the prospect of getting laid - or well, maybe he could get laid, the cheerleaders in this club were definitely interested, fuck yeah), but now, in his birth given duty to protect his little brother, Dean had to be... a part of Glee Club.
Thankfully though, he hadn't turned out to be the laughing stock of the club (a spot apparently reserved for Mike Chang's singing skills - aka non-existent). In fact, everybody, including the Spanish teacher, had seemed surprised or whatever. Dean hadn't understood anything of what Berry said afterwards, something about raw potential and being untrained and "with my training, you'll be in top condition in no time," but as long as Dean never had to do it again, he'd write it off as a 'casualty of war'.
And by all that is holy (rock salt, iron and holy water), Sam was going to help him. Or else.
"Okay, everyone!" Mr. Schuester clapped to get their attention. Apparently, the two Koreans had finally finished singing. Dean hadn't even known there were Koreans in McKinley before today. "Regionals are in two days! So let's all go to the auditorium and practice. Dean, we'll bring you up to speed so you and Sam can make sure you get it right by the time we head off, okay?" Dean waved a hand dismissively, planning on mouthing the words or something, but besides him, Sam nodded in answer, satisfying Mr. Schuester. "Great. Come on, guys. Two days! Let's do this!"
. . .
On the next day, Dean decided to tell John Winchester.
Dean wasn't a newcomer in trying to get his dad to let them do things, be it to go to the nearby park or to the football game between the school and their rival, and he had learned from experience that there was a certain method to go in order to gain the best results. Sometimes, usually when it was just one of them that wanted to go somewhere, John just refused, and nothing could change his mind - Dean knew when to bow out and accept defeat - but othertimes, it was the wording that could nab them the victory. Not just the wording but the timing too.
With toast on their plates and orange juices in their glasses (coffee for John, Dean would sneak a gulp or two when his dad left the kitchen, much to Sam's ire), Dean decided breakfast was the best time of attack.
"The school is taking us out for a field trip tomorrow, Dad." Dean casually shot out, smearing a bit more butter on his toast. "Some extracurricular thing for all grades. Apparently, I don't have as many credits as I thought I had, so I have to go. Sam wants to come with."
Not essentially a lie - Glee Club was extracurricular and for all grades. And Dean really didn't have as many credits as he probably should. Sam didn't react in anyway next to Dean, only perking up and looking interested, as if he really did want to just come with and keep Dean's bored ass company. Dean wasn't fooled though - the slight tic in his brother's left eyebrow was an annoyed one, one that spoke of Dean getting lectured afterwards for delicately lying to their father - something Dean outright denied because come on, this was so not lying.
In response, John grunted, swallowing down his own toast - with jam and cheese - with a gulp of coffee. "Will it take long?"
"Nah," came the smooth answer. Dean already knew they had won just from John's non-interested reply. "Worst case scenario, we'll be back in the evening, but at the latest - because of traffic - we'd still be home before ten."
"'Kay." Their dad answered. "Make sure to charge your phones and take the chargers with you. Take care of your brother too Dean, and be vigilant." Dean gave the required "yessir", but John had already turned his attention to Sam. "And you keep an eye on your brother and make sure he does the damn work, okay Sammy?"
Sam grinned, dimples flashing in both cheeks, and gave a similar "yessir" as Dean squawked incredulously. For once, Sam didn't call John out on the 'Sammy'.
Hence, it was a good morning.
. . .
A sniff then a deep inhalation of the air as Gabriel entered the auditorium rented out for the Regionals. Dean was besides him, wearing a smart black dress shirt pressed down over black slacks, the shirt's sleeves folded up to the elbows to reveal his forearms. Gabriel himself wore the usual Dalton uniform, nothing fancy there, unfortunately.
"Smell that, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, placing his hands on his hip as he stood on the stage. Nobody had arrived yet, the seats were devoid of life and both boys' respective teams were in the locker rooms touching up on their makeup - or, well, the girls in Dean's group were touching up on their makeup, and maybe the queers in Gabriel's group, who knew? "This, my mere mortal source of entertainment, is the smell of showbiz. Of Broadway. Of music!"
Dean groaned next to him, slapping at Gabriel's shoulder. "You sound like Berry." He moaned but dutifully sniffed at the air. "Besides, I'm pretty sure this place just smells of that citrus-y freshness you get on the window cleaners or something."
True. But nobody needed to mention that.
"Whatever. What're you guys singing anyway? And I cannot wait to hear you sing, Dean-o! They even already got you in a costume!"
Dean snorted besides him, scowling down at his clothes as he self consciously straightened out non-existent kinks. "Can't tell you." He said. "Sam made me promise I wouldn't tell the enemy of our battle plans. He went on this whole rant about how we were on different sides of a war and I needed to solidify my loyalties or whatever. Kid's freaking mental, I swear."
Huffing, Gabriel spun on his heels to face Dean, craning his neck upwards in irritation at the sudden reminder that Dean was taller than him. Why would a Junior be taller than a Senior, Gabriel would never know - just another injustice of the world, along with Dalton, annoying big brothers and everything. "Peacock's probably trading fashion tips with Rachel anyway," he pointed out, and at Dean's blank look, Gabriel gave an explosive sigh and clarified. "Kurt Hummel, gay kid who ran away from your school to ours to embrace his homosexual tendencies with Blaine Anderson?" Dean had looked blank at the mention of the ex-McKinley High student but at the words 'gay kid who ran away', he snapped his fingers in recognition before returning to blank look.
"And... Who's Rachel?"
"Oh my god," Gabriel exclaimed. "Rachel Berry! Berry! Psychopathic female with a set of pipes and frightening dreams of Broadway. Bastard child of the ex-manager of Vocal Adrenaline, the lady with the awesome jaw, and the girl with the two gay dads!"
"Oh," Dean muttered. Then, "Oh!" as he finally realized who Gabriel was getting at. He shrugged unapologetically, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "I'm not here to make friends, Gabe. Already got my hands full with you alone. I think the whole 'friends' slot is completely full anyway if you add Cas, Sammy and freaking Balzathar - who sucks but is the best wing man I have ever seen, I get laid more then once whenever he's even around, Jesus."
Rolling his eyes - only reason why that happened was because Balzathar had absolutely no morals - Gabriel caught sight of some black blazers with red lining coming up to the stage, and quickly grabbed Dean and pulled, alternating it with a push once Dean was in the opposite direction of the oncoming Warblers. "Dammit," he cursed. "Hurry up, you gotta leave, it's show time."
Dean craned his neck backwards and, catching sight of the boys, grinned at Gabriel, puckering his lips together suggestively into a ridiculous kiss. "Awww, don't want them to know you have a boyfriend? You know, we could give Peacock and his boy toy a run for their money just by standing together."
Flushing as he stared at the sinfully plush lips directed at him - he wasn't noticing it dammit - Gabriel tried kicking Dean, grumbling to himself as Dean dodged with a laugh and finally got off the stage, ducking behind the partitioner as the Warblers got on stage. By the time his fellow classmates reached him, he was able to fully stamp down on his blushing, getting it under some semblance of control. Still, he kept having flashes of what he'd like to do about Dean's suggestions and hell yes, they'd give the two lovebirds a run for their money.
Bouncing next to him, Blaine comfortably shouldered Gabriel lightly, grinning at him. "You ready to blow their minds and win, Novak?"
He hated being called by his family name, something everybody at school did, but Gabriel just plastered a grin on his face and replied with the expected answer. "You know it, Anderson."
As one, they left the stage, getting into position as the doors opened up and people started streaming into the auditorium and seating themselves. The Warblers wouldn't be going first - no, that spot was left for some other group Gabriel couldn't give a damn about - but they were second, meaning he'd get to settle down into his seat and watch Dean (and OK, fine, sasquatch Sammy too) rock it out on the stage. The thought brought a real grin to his face, one more genuine than the one he'd just granted Blaine next to him but he stamped it down as someone picked up the mic and started welcoming everyone to the Regionals.
Time to rock and roll.
. . .
"...and in second place... Dalton Academy's Warblers!"
. . .
As they all stood on the stage, all three Glee Club's of different schools, Gabriel's eyes met Dean's and the two shared a grin. Dean had an arm slung over Sam's shoulder - luckily still able to do it since Sam still was an inch or so shorter than Dean, but for how long that would still be the truth was anybody's guess - and the whole cast of New Direction were breathing heavily, still coming down from the high of performing just moments before.
Gabriel didn't even care if he suspected Dean had been mouthing all the words (though he was pretty damn sure Dean had actually gotten carried away toward the end and actually sang, if the way Sam's head had suddenly whipped toward his brother in pleased shock, had been an indication), because it had definitely been worth it to see Dean dance. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was something Gabriel was going to treasure until his death bed. To treasure, and to use as blackmail material. Oh, the blackmail.
The announcer had already gotten rid of the group in third place, neither the Warblers or New Directions. They were the only ones left, huddled together with only a small space in between. The amount of familiarity between the groups was something ironic to contemplate; Kurt Hummel, former New Directions member, and Gabriel being long-standing friends with Dean and Sam Winchester (the latter was a love-hate relationship, Gabriel had no disillusions about that). Second place was about to be announced, the speaker dragging it out for suspense, and when finally, the group was named, New Directions burst into ecstatic glee and immediately fell into each other in a huge group hug. They broke apart almost immediately, the girls jumping on Kurt Hummel and even Blaine - familiar with the two - and Gabriel found himself getting a surprise hug attack from a gangly Sam babbling at five miles per second and-
"Whoa, whoa, easy there tiger."
-Oh thank god, now he could breathe.
Dean patted him on the back sympathetically as Sam blushed in embarrassment, shrugging almost a minute later (enemies again) and disappearing to continue celebrating with his friends. Gabriel was alone with Dean, who had a wickedly smug grin on his face, acting cool as a cucumber.
"Oh, laugh it up, big boy." Gabriel wheezed, hacking to clear his throat from Sammy's attack before speaking again. "It's obvious people just voted on looks factor. No way could we win with you in their sleeves."
A startled laugh came from Dean, pleasing Gabriel greatly. "Should I be blushing, Gabe? That sounded like you believe I'm the hottest person around."
Scoffing (of course Dean was the hottest around, Gabriel had eyes, and damn good eyes at that), Gabriel waved Dean off, deciding not to actually answer for both their safety. "Yeah well, guess you won. I'd say your dad would be proud but I think it's even better if I say I'm proud. Or Cassy would be proud. Yeah, Cassy would definitely be proud. He'd be quietly glowing or something - hey, maybe he's in the crowds?"
Dean didn't reply though, instead dropping his hands onto Gabriel's shoulder, holding him in place. Gabriel arched an eyebrow at the Junior, trying to figure out the strange expression on Dean's face. "You alright, Dean? Lookin' bit strange there, fellah."
Dean took a deep breath, through his nose, as is fortifying himself against something. "Just... Punch me, or something, if you don't want to, okay?"
"If I don't want to wha-"
He couldn't answer, something was blocking his mouth, something was on Gabriel's lips. Something soft and plush and warm. And Dean's face was really, really, close. For a moment, everything just went silent - the celebrating happening right next to them, Sam's voice rising as someone gave him a hug, the cheers of the crowd right besides them - and all Gabriel could see was Dean's face, Dean's closed eyes, the furrow in between his eyebrows that spoke of apprehension, as if Dean was afraid of how Gabriel would react. All he could see was the freckles scattered across the bridge of Dean's nose and upper cheeks and the ridiculously long eyelashes. That's when he realised why his lips were suddenly paralysed, unable to move of his own violation, kidnapped from his control.
It was because Dean was kissing him.
Dean was kissing him.
Holy shit.
. . .
After that, somehow, the two groups ended up going their own ways back to school, and everything just blurred until Gabriel found himself swamped with exams. This year was particularly important for him, with him being a senior and all. He had already send applications to practically every university he could find across the pond, as well as a few in America just to appease the dictators of his household, working his butt off to make damn sure his reports, and everything else, were up to par to some of the school's he'd sent applications too.
The Warblers had taken their defeat at the Regionals better than expected. It was hard not too when the New Directions had belted out original songs nobody had ever heard before, Rachel Berry showing once more she had the talent - but not quite the personality. From what Gabriel knew of the school, it'd been obvious to see where Loser Like Me came from, though he'd found it more entertaining to think of how the Winchester brothers in particular would be avoiding Sue Sylvester after singing that on stage. Especially since the fearsome coach hadn't quite done anything to either of them, yet.
Dean tended to somehow avoid things like that anyway and no doubt Sam would've happily gone in the same route with only a bare minimum of exposure due to being in the club. He didn't know how the brothers were doing, or if Dean realised what winning actually meant for New Directions, that this time, the Nationals took place in New York City, a whole different state. How Dean would be able to convince John Winchester to let them go for that was a worry Gabriel didn't have the leisure of entertaining. Dean could handle himself, had been handling himself for years before they'd met, and would carry on handling himself after too. Gabriel had no doubt about that - maybe Dean liked having Gabriel around. After all, he surely liked having Cas as a friend, the two were usually inseparable, but Dean Winchester had grown up with only three other constants. His dad, his annoying little brother, and the car he often called 'Baby'. Anything besides those three Dean could do without if he had too, even pie if push came to shove.
So Gabriel had to think about himself, his future, what he was going to do now. Gabriel had always known right from the start that the first chance he got, he was getting the hell out of America. The envelope in his hands held the key to that freedom, a red logo with the title Universitetet i Oslo emblazoned on it like a siren call. He ripped the envelope apart in his haste to get to the folded up paper within, his heart latched in his throat as trembling fingers unfolded it open and the printed words blurred into focus.
He read the words, reread them, and read them one more time just to make sure. Gabriel shot out of his bedroom and straight to the backyard where Castiel and Balzathar sat, hiding the paper until he was sure none of the other children were around. He skidded to a stop right in front of them, his face breaking out into a huge, ecstaticgrin as he brandished the paper like a weapon, trembling too hard to keep it still so they could see,before Balzathar finally ripped it out of his hands and smoothed the paper out for him. Castiel leaned in and peered at it.
Only for them both to pour a bucket of ice cold water on him when they immediately frowned. "You're going to leave Dean?"
What kind of a question was that? Gabriel snatched his paper back, the grin slipping off his face like water in the face of their killjoy, and huffed in irritation. "Dean's a Junior, of course I was going to end up leaving him. We're not even in the same school, for Father's sake." Hey, he was named after an archangel, so by all intents and purposes, God was his daddy. "Besides, he always knew I was gonna get out of here as soon as I could." Why was he even explaining himself to them? It wasn't like he was hitched to Dean or anything. That kiss had obviously been a mistake, otherwise Dean would've hunted him down and continued right where he'd left off - neither of them were shy about that sort of thing anyway. Obviously Dean had realised he'd just been riding on the thrill of winning, something that had been completely new for him but Gabriel had been used too, and the adrenaline rush and euphoria had made him do something he would normally never do. Gabriel couldn't see why he felt defensive in the face of Castiel and Balthazar's reaction. It was going to be bad enough trying to explain this to the big three when Gabriel couldn't hold it off anymore.
Because that, Gabriel knew, was going to end badly.
. . .
Now this, Dean thought sourly, was going to end badly.
His dad had found the papers Mr. Schuester had forced them to take home, the ones asking for permission from the parents to take their Glee Club kids to New York for the Nationals. Something Dean had not signed up for but apparently had to see through because Sam was goddamn freaking excited about it. Sam had always liked big cities, be it New York or San Francisco, but the Winchester's journey rarely ever coincided with any of them, John preferring to take them through small towns like Lima, Ohio. The Regionals had been great, Dean wasn't going to lie, the thrill and excitement of doing something like that? Almost similar to the high Dean got from the 'hunts' John had started taking him regularly on when Dean turned twelve. Sure, Dean knew teaching your thirteen year old son how to recognise patterns of murder and crime the police hadn't even picked up on yet wasn't exactly something normal society smiled upon, but if it meant Dean helped out his old man, then Dean would do it - give his dad some peace of mind so he could focus on finding Mom's killer.
And yeah, OK, so Dean hadn't seen Gabe ever since the Regionals too, but Cas told him the older teen was up to his neck in finals, and Dean had accepted it easily enough. It didn't matter because Dean knew he'd see Gabriel afterwards and even as the other got ready for college, Gabe would make time for him so they could shoot the shit and just hang out or something. Dean would make the best of the last summer he had with him, because he knew for sure that as soon as Gabe went abroad, they wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. Not forever - hell no, Dean was planning on tracking Gabriel down a few years after Sam settled (probably in Stanford or some place equally huge and mind boggling) and his dad had gotten their mom's killer and finally relaxed - but for a while they'd be too far to talk. It was a small price to play.
What wasn't small though was this argument.
"Singing, Dean?!" John shouted, shaking the fist he was holding the paper with. "That's what you're wasting your and your brother's time on? That's what the extracurricular crap was about?"
"Dad," Dean tried again calmly, hoping to god Sam would shut up and not say a word. "It's just for a few days. Everything's sorted and nothing will happen."
John pushed himself off his chair and paced furiously, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he balled up the permission paper into a wrinkly ball. "Of course nothing will happen!" He spat out, rounding on Dean and looming with his impressive height. "Because it's singing! It's a show choir! Nothing happens on these damn things! You're not going. Either of you!"
"Dad-"
"You can't just say no." Sam's voice interrupted, loud and defiant as he stood to his full height, still a few inches short of John and one or two of Dean. "These are the Nationals, Dad. We have to go!"
John laughed bitterly, his face screaming his incredulity at the situation, and ignored Sam as he stared Dean down. "I just got a lead on your mother's killer, Dean, and I need you to come with me. Are you going off to sing and dance or are you coming with me to kill the SOB that took your mother away?"
Faltering, Dean's eyes swept to Sam, seeing his brother's face go from righteous indignation to quiet resignation. Dean never said no to a hunt, had done nothing but show enthusiasm for it too. He still remembered their mother, Mary, still remembered her unlike Sam, and he wanted to avenge his mother just as much as the next guy. But this wasn't the first time dad got a lead on a no-named person, this probably wouldn't be the last either, and Dean had yet to see any progress in what his Dad had been doing in the past ten years.
So would he give in, and be the good son, knowing they'd probably be coming back empty? Or the good big brother, and stand up for Sammy and the one thing he wanted since coming to Lima, Ohio? The one thing they probably wouldn't get a chance to do next year because they'd be in a whole different city that didn't have a Glee Club, or one as good as New Direction's?
"We're going to the Nationals, Dad." Dean finally answered, keeping his eyes on Sam and away from John, unable to see the disappointment in his father's eyes. "I-... I'm sorry."
There was no answer. Nothing but silence before John moved away, walked up the stairs to his bedroom, his heavy boots making noise on the living room ceiling as he packed his things. Dean swallowed the thick lump in his throat, wondering for a split moment if he had done the wrong thing until Sam came up close to him and hooked his index finger in Dean's pinky, something he used to do when he was just a baby.
Dean knew he did the right thing.
. . .
Gabriel knew, deep in his heart and everything that made him, that he'd done the right thing.
It didn't matter how much Lucian discouraged and cajoled into making Gabriel doubt and question himself. It didn't matter how many times Michael warned him he'd be kicked out of his inheritance. And really it didn't matter how Raphael cursed having Gabriel for a little brother, calling him worthless and a spineless coward.
Gabriel knew he'd done the right thing because he could feel it was the right thing to do. He had always known his big brothers would be against it.
He didn't know how he was going to afford a place to stay in Oslo, or how he was going to feed himself, or even buy the necessary equipments. He didn't know how he was going to get over the language barrier - despite the fact the university taught in English and that most Scandinavians could speak English perfectly anyway. He had no clue how he was going to survive on his own, away from his family, who, despite being downright dicks sometimes, he still loved with every fibre of his being. However, he was still going to do it because he had too. If he stayed here any longer and went to the university Lucian and Michael ordered him to go, went wherever he was herded like some damn cattle, he'd go crazy. And that was no way to live.
"I'm leaving." He said, speaking over the din of his three brothers arguing at once. "And nothing you say or threaten me with, will change my mind."
"You'll regret this, Gabriel." Lucian said sympathetically, always pretending he wasn't a manipulative bitch. "And then you'll just come back here, telling us we were right. Listento us, little brother. We only want what's best for you."
Gabriel shook his head, calm in the face of their anger. "No. I'm leaving. I wish you could just accept this and wish me luck but I have always known that was asking too much. I hope you guys live a good life and take care of each other because you're still my brothers and I still love you, despite you all being colossal dicks." And then, because his heart ached at the notion of leaving Balzathar and little Castiel behind, he decided to imitate his latter brother and tacked on a solemn, "Goodbye." grinning ruefully at the way it made him sound.
Spinning on his feet, he headed out of the green house where he had been called in for an attendance, and walked back into the main foyer of the Novak house, planning on going to his room to pack immediately. He was leaving now, two months ahead of graduation but he already knew he was going to pass and had talked his way into taking the end of year exams early. Before he could leave thought, Michael's voice boomed his name, stopping Gabriel and making him turn around to face his eldest big brother.
"Is there nothing I can do you to change your mind?" Michael asked, voice low and soothing, his clear blue eyes silently asking for a way to fix this, to make things right.
Gabriel figured he knew what Michael was thinking. As the eldest, he was the one in charge of all of them after Mother died and Father went missing with nothing but a goodbye note. He would think this was his fault, and had only argued against the notion so much because he couldn't bear the idea of any of them leaving his safety. Norway was far away, Europe was far away, and the Novak influence didn't extend that far. "Nope." Gabriel smiled, walking back to Michael to clasp him on the shoulder, not sure whether a hug would be welcomed. "But... Take care of the little ones, ok? I've already said bye."
Michael clasped him back on the shoulder, ran a hand through Gabriel's hair like he used too when Gabriel was younger, and nodded once. "Very well, little brother." He murmured, letting go by forcibly taking a step back. "Take care of yourself."
Gabriel nodded, turned around, and walked to his room. He got his things - all already folded and put away - and dragged them back downstairs and out of the house. With a final glance back, a wave and a cheeky grin he didn't feel like giving to the peering faces of Balzathar and Castiel in the top third window, he hailed himself a taxi and demanded to be taken to the airport.
. . .
New York City was huge, noisy, and bright. And Dean hated it.
Granted, he hated a lot of the big cities, had an unexplainable fear of Chicago, an unexplainable deep hatred of Detroit, and something that grabbed his throat and choked him whenever the name Pontiac came about. But he sucked it up, reminding himself this was for Sam and, somewhat, for himself too, that their dad needed to see that sometimes, other things were more important than a lead or two which everyone knew had very little chance of panning out.
The cast of New Directions were besides themselves. Sam was being dragged left, right and centre by Mercedes and Rachel while Dean hung in the back to trade pranks with Puck, along with hushed comparisons of the ladies in Lima ("Mrs. Wilson is a cougar, Winchester. I'm telling you. I can't believe you said no because her husband was at Breadsticks.").
When the day of the competition came, all decked out in all their uniform, all their lines and dance moves memorised (Dean still couldn't believe he was dancing but what the hell, it might help when he needed to jump over a hurdle in a hunt or something), they belted out their original songs and the crowd went wild.
Until Rachel and goddamn-fucking-Finn kissed right as they nailed it.
Then they lost. Didn't even place in the top ten.
As Ms. Pillsbury ushered everybody into the bus, Mr. Schuester walked up towards Dean, sitting besides him on the pavement outside the hotel they'd been staying at. Dean grunted a greeting, too busy with people watching and freaking out over returning back home, and didn't speak up.
"Is... everything alright, Dean?" Mr. Schuester asked carefully, watching the people pass by in colourful clothes besides Dean.
Dean grunted, finding it typical that would be the first question, and only nodded in reply.
"Dean..." Mr. Schuester sighed. "I know we all had huge expectations. We all wanted to win! But... Sometimes, things don't work out that way. We do still have next year, you know."
Unable to hold back the snort that came at that, Dean shook his head. "It's not that." He admitted, even if he was a little ticked off about ending up in twelve place because of two teenagers who couldn't keep it in their pants. At least he'd only kissed Gabriel after they finished and were celebrating. And they really didn't have next year, after this stunt, John was bound to get them out of here and to some other small town, get them away before they could make any more lasting ties. Dean knew how his dad's head worked. "Sam's probably pissed off though." He grumbled, watching the ramp on the bus go up as Artie waited patiently. "You should go talk to him before he becomes a little evil bitch and tries getting revenge on Berry and Hudson."
Mr. Schuester smiled, probably not realising the magnitude of Sam's bitchiness or how dangerous his revenge plots could be, because of course the little bitch had everybody thinking that he was a genuine angel. Berry and Hudson had better watch their backs for the next two months. "You know Dean? I'm actually happy."
Glancing over at the Spanish teacher, Dean cocked an eyebrow.
His smile growing into a grin, Mr. Schuester shrugged self consciously. "It's just. You joined. You started showing life and actually participating. You've made friends with Puck - despite me thinking you and him were going to fight each other on who was more badass or something - and you've done nothing but surprise us all. Except maybe Sam. He's really proud of you, you know."
Snorting again, Dean shook his head. "I'm the big brother. I should be proud of him." And then, realising how wrong that could be taken, he coughed a bit. "Which I am." He muttered, looking away. "Proud of him, that is."
"And I'm proud of you." Mr. Schuester replied without missing a beat, standing up and patting Dean on the back. "As I'm sure your parents are. You're more than just a good kid, Dean. You're a great kid. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
Looking up at the Spanish teacher, Dean searched for something to reply with, not used to the praise or compliments, and was thankfully saved by the ringing of his phone. Digging into his pockets, he pulled it out - hoping for a second it was Gabriel calling to ask whether they'd won or not - and was surprised to see it was an unknown number. Although a bit wary, Dean decided it could be anybody - probably his dad calling from wherever he'd gone for his lead - pressed the green button and put it to his ear.
"... hospital... was suicide... gun... we lost him..."
He dropped the phone.
. . .
The bus was quiet when they entered the school's grounds. Sam's red splotched face was smashed against his brother's collarbone, the t-shirt wet from Sam's tears. Dean stared out of the window blankly, his mind working despite his shock, letting him think things through without the threat of emotion pulling him under.
How was he going to take care of Sam now? He had maybe a few hundred dollars stashed somewhere and could probably scrounge a few more if he went through John's things. Maybe even a thousand or two if he sold some of John's stuff and hustled with it to triple. What if CPS decided to take Sam away? He might have to call Bobby, or Pastor Jim, and have them come over and pretend to be relatives. But Dean didn't want to bother them too much, not if he could handle this by himself, and maybe he could, if he just stashed Sam in the Impala and drove. Far away, to the other side of the country and lie about his age to make it legal, put Sam in another public school and went to work to pay for everything.
The bus finally came to a stop. Dean turned his head away from the window and frowned a bit as Sam's hair tickled his nose but watched silently as the members of New Direction got out of the bus slowly, quietly, in deference to Sam finally unconscious from crying his heart out onto Dean's own chest. Dean liked to think Sam had poured all his hurt into Dean, from one heart to the other, trusting his big brother to take care of him and make things better. Dean would if he could. He'd do anything in his power to stop this nightmare from being real, to stop Sam from shedding tears, and to stop the wide eyed look of horror and sympathy on the other kids' faces. He was sure he'd heard Tina quietly cry into Mike's chest, which oddly made Dean feel a little better, grounded him a bit harder to Earth, to the reality of life and their life, the Winchester life. Death was something that had loomed not in the horizon but right above their heads all the time, Dean had known this, did know this-
-He'd just never expected it to happen while they'd been away. Separated.
"...an? Dean?"
Looking up, Dean swallowed as Mr. Schuester grimaced in what should have been a smile, and realised the bus was empty except for the three of them. He looked down at Sam, at little Sammy, his little brother, sleeping, and decided waking him up wasn't worth it. Carefully, he dislodged himself out of the seat, slipped his arms around his little brother and hefted Sam up onto his back, feeling Sam's head easily fit into the space from his neck to shoulder and followed Mr. Schuester out of the bus.
Castiel was the first person he saw, standing silently besides Balthazar. Besides them was Bobby, gruff and familiar Bobby, just waiting for them to need him so he could help. The lack of Gabriel was like a fist to his solar plexus, stealing the air from him and making it hard to breathe, but Dean consoled himself that something must have happened and he would be here soon, or maybe was getting things ready for them, for their arrival, though where there was eluded him.
Taking a ragged breath deep into his lungs, Dean walked up towards them, knowing and feeling Puck and the other's eyes on him, and stood in front of Castiel, Balthazar and Bobby, Sam on his back, and couldn't bring himself to look them in the eye.
"Dean."
Swallowing thickly, Dean nodded to Castiel, confirming that he'd heard, that he knew his dad was gone, dead, all because Dean had been too selfish to put his father's needs before his own. Suddenly, he needed Gabriel to be there, to be here, with Dean, helping him deal with this the way Gabriel instinctively knew how to, needing him to just be here for Dean and a constant, something Dean hadn't failed. So he looked up and stared into Castiel' terrifying blue eyes. "Where's Gabe...?"
The same blue eyes bored back at him, staring at him without blinking, and for a while Castiel didn't reply. Then, when Dean was dimly entertaining the notion of panicking for real, thinking that maybe John wasn't the only one gone, to have died, Castiel blinked once, slowly, dark eyelashes going down and up again, and Dean knew he wasn't going to like what his best friend said next.
"Gabriel left for Oslo University yesterday, Dean. He's no longer here."
The words swirled around him, drowning him in a deafening roar, and he must have swayed where he stood because next thing he knew Bobby was holding him, his gruff voice a balm on Dean's raging thoughts but too low for the Winchester - the eldest Winchester alive now - to make out. Dean's everything had been ripped out from under his feet a few hours ago, by some woman on the telephone claiming to be a doctor, that his father had died, committed suicide with a gun - a Colt, she'd said, the word unfamiliar on her tongue but like a lightning of recognition to Dean - and told him he was gone, dead, shuffled off this mortal coil, and Gabriel had left too.
Gone. Just gone. Gabriel was gone.
And he hadn't even said goodbye.
PART THREE