Fic: 'For Love is Strong as Death' 2/?

[sakuri69]

Title: For Love is Strong as Death

Characters/Pairings: TFW. Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash.

Summary: Four months after the apocalypse that wasn’t, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...


A week passed and they’d moved on to Illinois, meandering southwards without haste.

Sam had somehow managed to acquire a new counterfeit credit card during that time, and had proceeded to go on a Winchester-themed shopping spree. The first thing he bought was some junk-heap of a car, presumably to assuage his guilt over stealing the last one, which had been left politely by the side of the road before they’d scarpered over state lines. The new thing was a battered black and chrome monstrosity that looked suspiciously like an Impala and really wasn’t fooling anyone, but Gabriel had so far refrained from comment.

After that came rock salt by the bagful, and a whole new arsenal of weapons. Sam had sworn pretty emphatically that they weren’t actually going to need said weapons, since he wasn’t taking them anywhere near anything that even looked like a hunt, but it seemed to reassure the kid to know they were stowed away in the false bottom of the car’s trunk, or tucked out of sight about his person. Gabriel privately theorized that for a Winchester to rest at all easy, it was necessary to have at least ten means of committing homicide within arm’s reach at any given moment.

What bemused him was that he couldn’t quite decide if that was sad, funny, or vaguely reassuring.

They bought clothes at a thrift store, since Gabriel could no longer zap in a new wardrobe and Castiel’s polyester suit really wasn’t holding up without instant-freshness angel powers. Gabriel simply picked out the type of things he usually wore and was done with, finding it a menial task he had little patience for, and Sam did the same whenever they actually came across anything in big enough sizes to fit him. It had to be admitted, however, that there was far more entertainment to be found for the both of them in dressing Cas.

Gabriel immediately wanted to put him in one of the many lurid Hawaiian shirts which lined the racks, but Sam vetoed the idea, spoilsport that he was. His mouth did twitch, though, with obvious and poorly concealed amusement at the thought. Gabriel grinned up at him, enjoying the novelty of a shared joke.

They ended up just getting him black and grey T-shirts and some jeans. Not quite as fun as Hawaiian shirts or the red bellbottoms Gabriel had tried to trick him into wearing, but still surreal enough on his uptight little brother that he was satisfied. Boots and an army surplus jacket completed the outfit, and Sam thought he looked pretty good for the change, completely unaware that he was an echo of another Castiel of another time.

He started to teach both angels the basics of driving, out on empty stretches of highway where they couldn’t possibly crash into anything - which turned out to be a wise precaution when Cas proved a little too heavy-handed with the steering and promptly put them in a ditch at the side of the road. He apologised profusely, and Sam said it was okay, it was fine, desperately trying to remember how an eighteen year old Dean had taught him, so that maybe he could repeat the trick. Gabriel, thankfully, proved more of a natural, though not by much. At the very least he could keep them going in a straight line whenever he bothered to concentrate long enough.

During the days they continued to research as best they could, looking into both their sudden and unexplained resurrection and the angels’ ongoing mortality, but in all honesty there was so very little to go on. The internet was full of false leads and speculation, the small town libraries were worse than useless, and Sam no longer had any contacts in the hunting world - especially any who knew anything about this level of weird.

At night they were boring.

They flipped coins and drew straws for who got to sleep on the couch - or the floor, if the motel in which they were staying was particularly cheap. They played card games, gambling for laptop rights or choice of TV channel. When Sam won, he made them sit through documentaries (partly because Dean wasn’t here to judge him, but mostly to annoy Gabriel). When the archangel won, he managed to traumatise Cas by introducing him to porn. One evening, they played Scrabble. Sam held his own at first, until he mistakenly agreed that foreign languages were permissible, thinking his own fluent knowledge of Latin and Spanish would prove an advantage, only to have both angels thoroughly thrash him in Enochian.

In truth, Sam didn’t really mind the boredom. He kind of thought they’d earned the right to boredom after everything they’d done. Even bickering with Gabriel, which had become a continuous and absentminded habit, had lost its sharp edge of antagonism. Oh, it wasn’t like he was happy - none of them were, by any stretch of the imagination - but he’d fallen into a routine, and if it wasn’t good it was at least comfortable.

And then he stumbled across a hunt.

xxx

The sound of the key turning in the lock woke Gabriel from the impromptu nap he’d been enjoying. As it turned out, sleep, while still a massive waste of time, had the occasional redeeming feature - one of which happened to be the dreaming. He could still feel the phantom sensations of flight as he blinked himself fully awake, confused for a moment by his own lack of momentum. He peered blurrily up at Sam as the other man entered the motel room, watching him toss his keys onto the desk without taking his eyes from the newspaper he was reading.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Took a walk down to the library,” Sam answered distractedly, wandering past. “I wanted to see if they had anything on angel lore.”

Gabriel yawned widely, resisted the urge to stretch his non-existent wings. “And?”

There was a long pause, until finally Sam seemed to realise he was expected to respond. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from whatever article had captured his attention. “Hm? Oh. No, there was nothing. Sorry.”

The archangel waved him off, unsurprised. He wasn’t exactly hoping for a breakthrough out here in Hicksville. Glancing back at the human, he frowned to see he was once again fixated by the newspaper. “What’s got you so interested, anyway? Please tell me there’s boobs involved, and if so, that you’re willing to share.”

“What? No.” Mouth pinched in an expression somewhere between flustered and offended, Sam pointedly folded the paper closed and tucked it away beside his travel bag. “It was just an interesting story. Where’s Cas?”

“He’s out in the car, communing with the radio again.”

Sam immediately slumped, letting out a worried sigh as he moved to the window to look out. “I feel bad, letting him sit out there on his own. He could have just used my laptop if he wanted to listen to music...”

Gabriel resettled himself lazily, legs crossed at the ankles and one arm folded behind his head. “Yeah, I was already using it at the time.”

“What for?”

“Casa Erotica.”

“Wh- Gabriel!” Sam turned on him incredulously, bitchface in full effect. “You made him go outside so you could watch porn?! God, you’re worse than Dea-” He cut himself off with audible effort, choking awkwardly on the name. Then, after a moment, he seemed to recover himself and jabbed an authoritative finger in Gabriel’s direction, grabbing for his keys with the other hand. “I’m going to go get him. Next time, let him use the damn laptop. I’m serious.”

“Oh, well, if you’re serious...”

The door slammed on the tail end of Gabriel’s sarcasm, leaving him to roll his eyes at an empty room. Oh, he was so utterly bored of everything - of being human, of both Sam and Castiel mooning about like depressed zombies, of aimlessly trailing around endless motels when there wasn’t even a reason for living like this. It was all getting a little ridiculous.

Sitting up, he swiped loose bangs of hair from his eyes and cast around for some kind of distraction that would hopefully keep him sane for another hour. After a moment or two, his gaze landed on the discarded newspaper Sam had brought in with him, stashed half out of sight.

He cocked a curious eyebrow at it.

xxx

It was just beginning to get dark out as Sam made his way through the motel parking lot towards where he could see Cas sitting in the car. The angel had taken an almost obsessive interest in listening to music now that he actually had the time - nothing but god damn time - to sit and do something other than search for god or try to stop the apocalypse. This was the fourth time in the last week that he’d disappeared off on his own, and each time either Sam or Gabriel had been forced to come out to the car and coax him back inside - although in Gabriel’s case it wasn’t so much ‘coaxing’ as ‘being so entirely obnoxious that Cas had no choice but to seek sanctuary back in the motel’. Well. Whatever worked.

Castiel had taken the driver’s side to work the radio, so Sam quietly slid into the passenger’s, shutting the car door behind him. For a second, it was exactly like getting into the Impala, his brother’s god-awful cock rock blasting from the speakers.

He aimed a sceptical smile over in Cas’ direction. “What, you’re into Metallica now?” Yesterday it had been Fall Out Boy.

“This music is... familiar.”

Sam made a contemplative sound, absently tapping his fingers in time with the well known song. Then he coughed once, uncomfortable. “...Dean ever make you listen to this stuff?”

Castiel didn’t look up from his intent study of his frayed jacket sleeve. “Once. I travelled with him, when the two of you were separated. I had no taste for it.”

“Yeah. I kinda hated it too.”

Neither of them made any effort to turn it off.

“Gabriel has been trying to convince me that you’re wrong,” Cas said after a while. “That we should go back.”

Sam shook his head, not particularly surprised to hear that the ex-trickster had gone behind his back, although he was starting to wonder why Gabriel was so damn persistent on the matter. He hesitated, glancing over at Castiel with reluctant curiosity. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. “You, uh... You think he’s right?”

The angel gave a huff of bitter laughter. “I think he’s trying to manipulate me into agreeing with him, because for some reason he believes we would make faster progress in restoring our Grace if we were to reunite with your brother. I think his opinion on the matter is therefore biased.” He drew one leg up onto the seat, picking idly at a small tear in his jeans. “But then so is mine. So is yours.”

Sam turned away, looking out of the car window into the growing darkness. Sometimes he hated Castiel’s propensity for brutal honesty.

“I miss him too, Cas,” he said at last, almost spitting the words in his sudden need to get them out. “It’s not that I don’t want, more than anything-”

The back door of the car abruptly opened, startling them both, and Sam cleared his throat to loosen the sudden tightness there. He turned to see Gabriel crawling across the back seat with newspaper clutched in hand, and winced automatically at the sight, knowing what was about to come even before the archangel furiously brandished the pages at him.

“You ever planning on mentioning this, kiddo?!”

“No,” he answered sullenly, reaching out to turn the radio down.

Castiel twisted in his seat to curiously eye the paper. “What is it?”

“It’s a haunting! Here, in this crap-hole of a town! And instead of doing something remotely interesting like hunting a ghost, we’re sat on our asses doing nothing!”

“A ghost?”

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Sam snapped, looking between them. “I told you, we’re not getting involved in a hunt while you’re both like this.”

“Sam-”

“No.” He slapped one hand against the dashboard. “By some miracle we’re alive again. I don’t know about you, but I’m in no rush to change that.”

Castiel glared disapprovingly. “You’re a hunter.”

He glared right back. “And you’re not.”

“We’re soldiers of the-”

“You’re angels. Or you’re supposed to be, rather.” He gestured helplessly. “Look, guys, no offence, but right now you have no powers, no training, no experience. If we went up against anything like this you’d get yourselves killed in the first five minutes, you’d get me killed-”

“So instead we’re just going to drive on by,” Gabriel surmised scornfully, expansive hand gestures and all. “Let some other clueless bastards get themselves killed instead-”

Sam kneeled on the seat and turned around, aware that he was looming over the smaller man even in the cramped space of the car. “And since when are you all gung-ho about hunting things and saving people? What’s the ulterior motive this time?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you two may not have a very high opinion of me, but keep in mind, children, that I’ve been upholding justice in one way or another since before either of you were even in existence!”

Against his will Sam flushed at the reprimand, glad that the gloom of the car kept the reaction mostly hidden. He forgot, sometimes, exactly what Gabriel was (besides just a pain in his ass) and it made him feel young and ignorant to be so bluntly reminded - neither of which he’d been in a very long time. Gabriel’s stare was unwavering, like he knew exactly what he’d done, so Sam turned quickly away and resettled himself facing forward.

“Whatever,” he gritted out eventually. “Look, you two are my responsibility until you get your angel mojo back, and I said we’re not going on a hunt.” He had no delusions over why they suddenly thought this such a good idea. Gabriel was more bored than righteous, and Cas more righteous than sensible. But he still wanted to yell at them that didn’t they realise Dean wasn’t here to play leader and brother and carer and stupid, unthinking hero anymore? He wasn’t here to look after angels who were never meant to experience this kind of vulnerability. They were stuck with only Sam for the job, and he was poorly qualified enough without purposely taking them smack bang into the middle of real danger.

But Cas and Gabriel only exchanged an unimpressed glance through the rear-view mirror, obvious and pointed. The archangel leaned forward over Sam’s shoulder and spoke in a perfectly level voice. “Okay, first off? We’re not your anything, Sammy-boy. Certainly not your ‘responsibility’-”

Sam maybe lost it a little bit then. Before he was even consciously aware of his own actions, he found himself slamming out of the car, yanking the back door almost off its squeaky hinges, and gesturing expectantly at a somewhat surprised Gabriel. “Well, guess what? It’s just fine with me if you want to take off. No one’s keeping you here, trust me.” In the privacy of his own mind, Sam asked himself what the Jesus fuck he thought he was saying.

Gabriel blinked up at him from the backseat, looking faintly betrayed. “...You’re ditching me?!”

Sam gritted his teeth and shifted his weight, instantly feeling annoyed and guilty. He didn’t back down, though, just stepped aside and gestured out into the night. “You can go get yourself killed again, if that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. But don’t you dare ask me to help you do it.”

The archangel sat rigid, clearly furious. The newspaper was crumpled in his hands. After a moment or two, he cast a defiant look past Sam like he was actually considering getting out of the car and walking away - unknowingly sending a jolt of unrestrained panic through the human - before slowly, resentfully relaxing back against the seat.

“Yeah,” Sam snapped, too relieved to care how snide his voice sounded. “Didn’t think so.” He slammed the door and turned on his heel without another word, suddenly anxious to get away. From behind him came the sound of the car window being roughly wound down.

“Yanno what?!” Gabriel screamed after him, voice ringing loud and shrill across the parking lot. “It comes as a complete and utter shock that you were supposed to be the Antichrist!”

xxx

Castiel was anything but an expert on the subtleties of emotion and the things that went unsaid between individuals, but even he could tell that something had changed between his brother and Sam. Where previously they had sniped and insulted and bickered until well after Castiel longed to shut them up by any means possible, now there was nothing but frosty silence in the car as Sam drove them far away from the town with the hunt in it. He’d wasted no time at all in getting them moving that morning, hurling bags into the car at the crack of dawn and rousing them awake with short tempered barks. Castiel knew he felt guilty for ignoring the presence of a ghost, but that he was at least equally eager to remove Gabriel from the temptation of danger. What surprised him - perhaps unfairly so - was that it had apparently been the latter instinct to win out.

In truth, Castiel wasn’t certain how he felt about this turn of events. He did agree with his brother that Sam was behaving over-protectively, even to the point of being patronising, and such an attitude would hardly prove helpful to any of them in the long run. But it was also... nice, to see someone else concerned for Gabriel’s welfare, since it was a phenomenon that occurred all too rarely. Gabriel, while he had undoubtedly loved their older brothers fiercely, and even a number of the younger angels like Castiel, had still forever seemed... alone. Different. He’d always been truly righteous in a way that even Michael couldn’t manage; possessed a rebellious streak not unlike Lucifer’s, though without the malice; and everything Castiel had said about his affinity with humanity wasn’t entirely untrue just because it had been said in anger. In all honesty, his flight from Heaven hadn’t really come as the shock and scandal it probably should have been. He was isolate in their family, made more so by an independence not common in angels. It must kill him, Castiel supposed with sudden understanding, to suddenly be so dependent on someone else. Perhaps that, then, was the cause of the brittle atmosphere currently permeating the car.

He glanced over his shoulder, spent a moment contemplating Gabriel where he was sprawled across the backseat, jabbing spitefully at the keys of the laptop as he played Spider Solitaire. Castiel frowned a little, then turned his attention to Sam, whose grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled and who kept viciously stamping the acceleration at the smallest provocation.

Castiel didn’t have as deep an understanding of Sam, so it was harder to determine the exact nature of his anger - especially since humans in general continued to remain a mystery to him. He had to wonder why Sam’s reaction to the thought of hunting with them had been so strongly negative, though. True, they were more vulnerable as humans than they’d ever been as angels - but surely Sam had spent most of his life hunting alongside other humans? He’d been raised as a soldier who’d simply had to accept the occasional casualty of war - they all had - so why such a visceral objection now?

Had Dean been with them, Castiel would have asked him to explain the inconsistency. And Dean, in all likelihood, would say something like, It’s Samantha’s time of the month, or perhaps, Sam’s just being a bitch. Ignore him. Castiel would in turn allow his mouth to twitch with the slightest trace of reluctant amusement, and Dean would grin back at him; blinding, conspiratorial.

Sam suddenly jerked the car to the right in a fit of silent temper, and the image of Dean was jostled from his head.

xxx

Castiel read a lot, these days. He’d started out reading things from the internet, since it was the most readily available material, and had already found - and been bemused by - the incestuous stories surrounding the Winchester brothers. But apart from making him feel vaguely uncomfortable, they’d also depressed him a little, those fictional versions of Sam and Dean that could never do justice to the reality, so he’d quickly abandoned the literature of the internet in favour of paperback books from libraries and charity shops. Sam helped him pick out what he said were considered ‘classics’, and Castiel had already read through Hamlet, two Lord of the Rings books, and Wuthering Heights (which was thus far his favourite, because while it was certainly bleak and brutal storytelling, it was the only book he’d come across that so strongly advocated love transcending death). When Gabriel discovered his hobby he’d demanded only that he read something called Good Omens, and said nothing more on the subject. Castiel had promised solemnly that he would.

He was, as it happened, just returning from the local book store, having asked Sam to drive him. His brother had still been sulking all morning, so they’d left him to his own devices in the motel room while they were out. But now as they returned to the room, tossing down keys and coats and carrier bags, Castiel glanced curiously between the two empty beds, the blank TV screen, the open bathroom door and the abandoned laptop, frowning. Sam, next to him, perhaps having grown used to the awkward silences that had cropped up between himself and Gabriel of late, had not yet noticed anything amiss as he busied himself emptying the grocery bag he’d just brought in from the car.

Castiel cleared his throat hesitantly. “Sam? I don’t wish to alarm you, but is it possible that this town also contains a hunt you were unaware of?”

The human looked up at him, slanted eyes squinting slightly in confusion. “I don’t think so. I scoured all the papers the first day we got here. This place is clean, man. Why?”

“...Gabriel appears to be gone.”

xxx

It took Sam less than ten minutes to thoroughly destroy their motel room in his effort to determine Gabriel was not, in fact, playing an elaborate and poorly conceived game of hide and go seek. Castiel stood by and watched, at first trying to inject a voice of reason every now and then, but soon concluding that it was perhaps better to let Sam take out his frustrations tearing apart decor than tearing apart an ex-archangel when they eventually found him.

By the time Sam stalked from the bathroom (having finished trashing the main living area several minutes ago), Castiel was perched waiting for him on the wooden chair by the door, absently clutching his new copy of Dorian Gray as though fearful of losing it to the other’s whirlwind search.

Sam stood for a moment in the middle of the room, looking somewhat at a loss. His hair was in disarray, appearing even more ridiculous than usual, and if Castiel wasn’t entirely mistaken, a small muscle had begun to twitch periodically in his jaw.

“I am a recovering addict,” Sam hissed furiously under his breath, rolling his shoulders in a familiar mannerism that made Castiel wince slightly. “Who does this to a recovering addict?!”

Ignoring the question, which he assumed was rhetorical, Castiel rose to his feet. “I took the time to study the newspaper while you were... busy. I couldn’t find any reference to anything suspicious or supernatural in the area, so perhaps the situation is not as bad as it appears.”

“Not bad? I’ve lost your brother, Cas!”

“You are not his babysitter.” The reply emerged more snappish than he’d intended, and he took a calming breath before continuing. “Gabriel is an adult. Relatively. And while his actions are often... petulant, he has always been quite self-sufficient. In all likelihood he has simply walked into town to entertain himself and will return when he grows bored. It really shouldn’t take all that long-”

“Oh, so - what? You think we should just sit around here and wait?”

“I-”

“Yeah, not happening, Cas. Even if he’s not stupid enough - please God - to go hunting on his own, anything could happen. He could... I don’t even know, get hit by a fucking car or something!” He flinched involuntarily as he experienced a vivid and unnerving flash of memory: Dean being hurled through the air back at Mystery Spot, the squeal of tires, his brother’s bodily fluids staining the road.

In all honesty, there’d probably be some kind of karmic justice in Gabriel meeting his end the same way, though it didn’t stop Sam from violently recoiling at the mere thought.

Shaking the image from his head, he was met instead by Castiel’s unimpressed blue stare. “I think you’re being irrational,” the angel informed him flatly.

Annoyed, Sam grabbed for his keys and jacket. “Think what you like. I’m going to go look for him.”

“Sam...”

“Don’t, Cas. Just don’t.” He checked his pockets. “Look, stay here, okay? If he comes back before I do, call me.”

Castiel sighed in defeat as the youngest Winchester stormed out of the room without another word. A moment or two later he heard their car screech from its place in the parking lot outside and rumble away back towards town.

Alone, he gazed around at his ruined surroundings, resenting, for a second, his brother’s thoughtlessness and Sam’s reckless, overbearing protection.

Dean would say, Family, right? What’re you gonna do?

Repeating this advice to himself, he carefully resumed his seat in the rickety wooden chair and opened his book.

xxx

As it turned out, Sam apparently knew next to nothing about where Gabriel would choose to go for fun. Hardly surprising, he thought bitterly to himself as he left yet another bar with no sign of the archangel. Not like he knew a whole lot about Gabriel in any respects, really. He wondered if anyone did.

It had been hours since they’d found the motel room empty, and Sam was seriously starting to freak the hell out. He’d checked every bar, diner, cafe and goddamn sweet shop he’d driven past, to no avail. Even doubled back and checked a few of them twice. He’d resorted to stalking frantically through supermarket aisles, library stacks, rows of arcade games for Christ’s sake (he’d seriously thought he’d been onto something with that last one). As the day drew on and he grew ever more anxious, having called Cas twice just to double-check Gabriel hadn’t already returned to the motel of his own volition and twice receiving the same negative answer, he’d even driven to the bus terminal a few miles further along the highway, incredulously wondering if the archangel was indeed street-smart enough to hitch himself a ride out of here. He didn’t see Gabriel there, however, and at last could think of nothing else to do but admit defeat.

He sat in the car at the edge of the road as it began to get dark, feeling weirdly stunned. His brief stint of responsibility had gone up in flames even sooner than he would have anticipated. How the hell had Dean survived this shit?

Once, when Sam was twelve, after an argument with Dad, he’d packed a bag with one change of clothes, a book to read, a bag of M&Ms and a knife, and then he’d slipped out of whatever motel they’d been staying in and started walking. He’d gotten a decent head start, too. Dad hadn’t noticed his absence until Dean got home, at least two or three hours later, and only then had the two pretty much exploded into frantic action looking for him.

Sam winced now at the memory, wondering if this was what they’d felt like; wondering if, like him, they’d suddenly been unable to stop thinking of every monster they’d ever heard of looming out of the darkness while they weren’t there to fight it off.

Alright, fine, so Gabriel wasn’t a twelve year old runaway - the point was still valid.

It had been Dean who’d found him. Naturally. Sam had been slouching his way along a road not unlike this one, hungry and tired and with no real destination in mind, when the Impala had skidded to a halt beside him and his brother had dragged him inside by the hair. He hadn’t spoken a word to Sam the entire drive back, hadn’t even said anything after Dad had yelled himself hoarse and grounded Sam into the distant future. Dean hadn’t forgiven him for days, in fact, which at the time had felt like an unprecedented eternity.

Man, he hoped Ben didn’t like pulling the same kind of stupid stunts that Sam had while growing up. Dean deserved the chance to raise at least one normal kid.

Quite suddenly, his brother’s absence was a visceral loss, a keen slice through his gut.

Smacking a hand against the steering wheel, he shook the moment off angrily. God, he really was a whiney little bitch sometimes. There were far more immediate matters to deal with.

Okay. So. Gabriel was gone. It had probably only been a matter of time, all things considered. He couldn’t exactly have forced an archangel into staying with him for much longer if Gabriel had really wanted to leave. And hey, maybe his powers had finally regenerated themselves, and things were back to normal. That was... That was good. Great, even. Couldn’t exactly begrudge him testing out his wings after so long grounded, right? And yeah, a fucking goodbye note wouldn’t have gone amiss, but Gabriel probably had higher priorities if he was back to full angel power. Responsibilities he should be getting back to. Other people he’d abandoned at one point or another. Jackass.

Sam snorted with vague self-disgust and started the engine. Christ but he was pathetic. If he wasn’t busy obsessing over Gabriel - who was perfectly free to leave whenever he damn well liked, actually, especially after Sam had all but told him to the last time they’d spoken - then he was moping in a truly spectacular fashion over his brother’s well-deserved happiness. It was stupid, and selfish, and childish, and hadn’t he wasted enough of his life on those kind of vices? He was going to stop. Right now. He was going to go back to the motel with Cas (who’d probably get his angel powers back soon, too, and be gone in the next few days) and he wasn’t going to spare another thought for what Dean was doing or where Gabriel was. Not one.

xxx

His promise lasted the fifteen minutes it took to drive halfway back to the motel.

He’d passed through town and back out again, and the road was mostly empty between here and his destination. There was, however, one gaudy little building to one side of the road. He’d passed by it earlier thinking it closed, but now a flickering neon sign was lit up over the doorway. He slowed the car to a crawl as he approached, dawning suspicion turning his expression thunderous.

It was a bar, of sorts; rougher looking than the usual type he’d frequented with the angels. It sort of reminded him of the Roadhouse, only... nastier. Sam, when he ducked inside, was for once utterly grateful for his own considerable height and stature, because the entire place looked to be full of thugs and bikers who watched him balefully as he edged his way towards the bar. This was a stupid idea. If Gabriel ever had set foot in here, they’d have kicked his pintsized ass out two minutes later. Still, he supposed, no harm in asking. Hopefully.

The bartender was a dark haired woman with scarlet lipstick and cleavage that left little to the imagination. She gave him an amused once-over when he waved awkwardly, trying to get her attention.

“What’s up, handsome?”

“Uhm, hey. I’m, uh, looking for a guy...”

One pencilled eyebrow quirked upwards. “Wrong kinda place, honey.”

“No! No, not...” He sighed at her exasperatedly when he realised she was laughing at him, then held a hand to about mid-chest level on himself. “He’s about this tall, long hair, loud and really annoying?”

To his astonishment, recognition immediately lit up her face. “You mean the little guy, Gabe, right?”

He gaped at her. “...You’ve seen him?”

She pointed over his shoulder. “Right over there. He’s a real hit.”

Sam was no longer listening. He spun on his heel, scouring the crowd, and sure enough there was Gabriel at one of the back tables. Relief swept through him - and promptly came to a screeching halt when he looked a little closer. There was Gabriel, alright, at a table surrounded by men who made Sam look slight in comparison, and the archangel positively breakable. Playing poker.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me...”

He could hear Gabriel telling the tail end of a joke as he drew nearer, one that made his fellow players erupt into gruff, raucous laughter. Sam rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the patience for introductions or niceties as he came to a stop behind the archangel’s chair, instead leaning down so he could start straight in by hissing directly into Gabriel’s ear, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Startled, Gabriel spun around and stared up at him for long seconds, before exclaiming, “Sammy!” He had the nerve to sound genuinely delighted. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Sam growled quietly, barely resisting the urge to physically haul the other up out of his seat and out to the car like an errant child. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Oh?” It was a distracted mutter of acknowledgement as Gabriel busied himself studying the hand he’d just been dealt. “Why, what’s up?”

“Seriously? Seriously!” Sam gave into temptation and grasped the shoulder of his jacket, dragging him around to meet his glare. “You can’t just disappear-!”

“Hey, hey!” Gabriel batted at him ineffectively, while around the table the other card players leered and chuckled. “Hands off the merchandise!”

Sam wanted to hit him. Throttle him. If he hadn’t just spent hours enduring his own increasingly wild speculations of Gabriel already being dead - again - he’d have wanted to murder him. As it was, he considered it a remarkable feat of self-control that he spat only, “Come on. We’re going.”

The archangel twitched an amused eyebrow in a manner strongly reminiscent of the bartender, before turning dismissively away from Sam and back to his game. “’Fraid not, kiddo. Kind of in the middle of something here.”

“It wasn’t a question-”

“Anyway. How about you quit bitching and show a little gratitude?” Gabriel glanced back at him and grinned wickedly. “I’m earning us a living.”

“You’re...” At last, Sam’s eyes fell upon the stack of cash, coins and one expensive wristwatch near Gabriel’s elbow. “You’re winning?”

And alright, maybe that was a stupid question. This was, after all, the Trickster. He won every game he ever decided to try his hand at, one way or another.

Gabriel just winked in a way that promised nothing legitimate. “Course I am.”

Oh, this was so not good.

“Seriously. Just... take what you’ve got and let’s go.” He was trying for calm and diplomatic, but wasn’t entirely certain he succeeded.

The archangel waved him off anyway. “And deprive these gentlemen of the chance to make up their losses? Sam. Really. I’m shocked.” The men around the table made approving noises, clinking glasses together and shuffling cards. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“Oh, look at that!” Gabriel suddenly crowed, slapping his cards down with a flourish. “Aces full.”

There was a collective groan of annoyance as Gabriel reached happily for his stack of winnings, leaning forward over the table. To Sam, the next moment seemed to transpire in slow-motion. The archangel’s jacket opened slightly with the movement, and out onto the table tumbled two or three playing cards. Gabriel froze, his hands still outstretched towards the money, as every gaze in the vicinity snapped straight towards them and darkened ominously.

“...Huh,” Gabriel stage-whispered nervously in Sam’s direction. “Cheating was a whole lot easier when I could actually make the cards disappear, yanno?”

Sam didn’t get the chance to reply. The guy closest to Gabriel abruptly rose to his feet with a snarl of anger, massive hands clamping down on the archangel’s shoulders and yanking him out of his chair. Gabriel yelped, struggling ineffectively and looking every inch the helpless, stupidly fragile human he was. Sam, later, wouldn’t remember making his next decision. He simply reacted to the sight, an entire day of imaging Gabriel in danger determining his actions before he’d ever had a hope of imposing reason on them.

His fist shot out with unerring accuracy, connecting with the guy’s nose. There was a sickening crunch, a bellow of outrage, and Gabriel was dropped and momentarily forgotten.

Sam shook his hand out and braced himself as everyone else at the table surged furiously to their feet and the rest of the bar let out a deafening roar of encouragement at the prospect of a fight. He had a split second to register Gabriel’s golden eyes, wide and astonished, and then he had to duck as the first swing came at him.

xxx

As established, Castiel was not particularly well versed with emotion - especially feeling it himself. He had, in the past, known... shades of emotion, he supposed. Usually, they’d been elicited most strongly when dealing with the human (or human-like) individuals with whom he’d surrounded himself at the time; Sam, Dean, Anna and Gabriel had all, at one point or another, succeeded in making him feel something, making him act as he would not normally.

But that was while he himself had been an angel. While he would not dismiss his first encounters with emotion, they had been far different experiences to what things were like right now.

For humans, he’d come to discover in the past few hours, there was something almost physical about emotions; a biological phenomena. Castiel had been blissfully unaware that he was missing out on the jackrabbit heartbeat of panic, the tension headache of stress, the restlessness that gradually overtook him as the whole day passed and still he was alone. He had just called Sam’s cell phone three times in rapid succession with no answer, and now ‘panic’ was beginning to ease its way insistently into ‘fear’.

There was, at that moment, another number typed out on the small screen of his own phone; a number known by heart and one he had promised Sam and himself he would never use again. He hadn’t dialled yet, but he braced himself to do just that.

Dean would know what to do if their brothers really were in trouble.

The phone abruptly lit up in his hand, vibrating loudly and managing to startle him badly enough that he almost dropped it. An unfamiliar number was displayed across the screen. Warily, Castiel accepted it and raised the phone to his ear, listening.

“Cas? Cas. You there?”

“Sam.”

“Hey! Good. Okay, listen. I found Gabriel.”

Castiel took a moment to process the sudden sting of sharp relief. “That’s... I’m glad. Will you both be back soon?” He remembered, unbidden, the unknown number that had flashed up on the screen. “Where are you calling from?”

“I, uh...”

“Sam, is Gabriel-?”

“We’ve been arrested, okay?”

Part 3