[Fic] In the Aftermath; PG-13; SPN
Title: In the Aftermath
Author: Phate_Phoenix
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 5x10, but only vaguely mentioned for that episode.
Warnings: None.
Prompt: The morning after.
Summary: It’s the morning aftermath.
Author’s Notes: Eep! Sorry this got a bit long-winded. O.o But this caught my attention, and… well… yes. :D Hope you like it.
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When Sam wakes up the next day, he isn’t surprised that the space next to him is empty-angels don’t sleep, and Gabriel was never for the Castiel-way of ‘I’ll watch you while you sleep for hours and hours’. Or maybe he does, and just vanishes before Sam wakes up. It doesn’t really matter either way-Sam’s used to it, been used to it since the first time he and Gabriel had tumbled into a bed together months ago. Maybe even a lifetime ago.
Sam slips off of the air mattress and pulls on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before he walks out of the darkened makeshift bedroom of the abandoned house he and Dean had claimed as their base of operations when they came to Casper, Wyoming. There had been a lot to choose from-Death had caused most of the state to be evacuated in preparation for Lucifer to come to town.
But now they don’t have to worry about that.
Sam turns down the hallway and pauses outside the door to the room Dean had claimed. He listens and hears only silence, so he pushes it open enough to peak in. Dean’s curled in the bed, wrapped tightly around Castiel like the angel was a large, human-shaped teddy bear. Castiel’s eyes are shut, and if Sam didn’t know better, he’d say that he was sleeping. Instead, Sam smirks, shaking his head, and closes the door gently.
He still can’t quite believe that they all made it. Bobby, himself, Dean, Castiel, and Gabriel. All of them still alive and well. Thank God. No, Sam thinks as he makes his way silently towards the stairs, thank Castiel who found God.
He’ll always remember that day, an early Thursday morning just after a quick salt’n’burn in Wisconsin; no sun, frozen ground, aching limbs from the night before. Dean and he had been packing their things away, slowly, when Castiel appeared before them, tears rolling down his face. Gabriel had shown up a second later, staring at the mauve-colored walls.
“I found Him,” Castiel had sobbed, latching onto Dean, “I have found Him and He is proud of me.”
Gabriel had looked at Sam, eyes wide, face pale, and whispered hoarsely, “He… forgives me.”
After a half-second trip via Air Angel-bowel movements be damned, this was God-it turns out Dean really was right all along: God was in New Mexico, working at a flour tortilla plant. However, God, in the form of a bespectacled middle-aged man with thinning hair and an unfortunately large nose, could do nothing to stop the apocalypse, because it was the free will of Man that allowed it to be, so only the free will of Man could end it.
Dean had said some blasphemous things about that.
God could, however, get the dickhead angels off their backs. He could also tell them how to defeat Lucifer.
Dean had said something vaguely apologetic after that.
As of yesterday, eight thirty-four AM, with the colt, a tub of holy water, several meters of blessed iron, the Devil’s Gate, and two fully-charged angels (the Heavenly Host had nothing on actually seeing and being near their Father), they sealed Lucifer back into Hell to await the actual Armageddon.
Now, nearly twenty-four hours later, the only question that remains is: what now?
Sam steps into the yellow and pink kitchen, unsurprised to find Gabriel leaning against the counter, poking at a plate of waffles slathered in pink syrup. Sam pauses, leaning against the doorway, and merely watches for several long seconds.
“If it’s creepy when Castiel does it,” Gabriel says, looking up from his plate, “why should you be any different?”
Sam snorts, shaking his head, and walks towards him. “Because my face actually moves when I do it.” He settles beside Gabriel against the counter. Gabriel turns back to his waffles, a small smile crossing his features. Then he sets his fork on his plate before vanishing both and leans heavily against the counter.
“So,” Gabriel says, arching an eyebrow, “what’s going on?”
Sam glances at the floor. “Do you wonder what happens next?” Gabriel lifts his gaze to Sam’s. “I mean,” Sam begins, shuffling awkwardly, “we sealed the devil himself away, we beat him.”
Gabriel tilts his head towards Sam, eyebrows rising. “What do you have planned? You’re either going to have demons coming after you, or they’ll be running away from you because of what you two’ve done.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you, you know,” Sam says quickly. “You or Castiel.”
Gabriel waves him off. “We can handle a few dozen demons by ourselves. What about you?”
Sam shrugs, crossing his arms. “I assume that Dean and I will go back to our regular hunting gig. Deal with anything that comes our way when it comes our way.” He pauses, swallowing, and looks towards the doorway. “I suppose you’ll take up your original purpose? Being God’s go between for Heaven and Earth?”
Gabriel shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. “Probably,” he says.
Sam nods, uncrossing his arms, and taps his fingers against the counter behind him. “Oh.”
Gabriel sighs, rolling his eyes, and shoots Sam a glare. “You know, actually telling me what you want is a lot easier to decipher than your not-so-subtle pouting.”
“I’m not… pouting,” Sam grumbles, dropping his eyes to the side. Then he shrugs. “You’re an archangel, and you have duties to perform, and I understand that.”
Gabriel stares at him. “You do realize I’m basically my Father’s personal singing telegram, right?” Sam raises an eyebrow, and Gabriel smirks. “It’s not exactly the most time-consuming occupation.”
Sam chuckles, smirking back. “Is that so?”
Gabriel shrugs, hopping onto the counter and waggling his eyebrows at him. “I also travel through time.”
“That’s true,” Sam says slowly, squinting at the far wall, and leans back further.
“Besides,” Gabriel chirps, swinging his feet to bump against the cabinets lightly, “Daddy wouldn’t want anything to happen to you or your brother, since you’ve saved the world and all.” He shrugs. “Need some guardian angels looking out for you.”
Sam smiles then, turning and pressing into between Gabriel’s legs. “Then I guess there won’t be any problems.”
Gabriel nods and leans forward, grinning against Sam’s smile. It sends a shiver down his spine. “See?” Gabriel murmurs. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Sam drags his hands up Gabriel’s arms, eyes half-closed. “I was always good at picking up new tongues,” he whispers.
Gabriel’s eyes glow in that other-worldly way that is neither Heaven nor Hell-it’s just Gabriel. The Trickster and the Archangel and the Messenger all in one creation, everlasting and beautiful compared to Sam’s tainted being, and it makes Sam wonder how he could be so damn lucky to have fascinated this entity.
Against Sam’s mouth, Gabriel’s grin turns wicked and sharp and knowing.
“Show me.”