Fic: A Face in the Crowd
Title: A Face in the Crowd
Author: crash_lib
Characters: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 5.19
Warnings: Angst and emoness abound. Happy ending though!
Summary:
Dean wouldn't understand. Sam never told him what happened, after he died that first Wednesday. Sam didn't just chase down the Trickster, he hunted him. Slowly, methodically. Learned his methods, his motives... knew him inside out. Scoured security footage for hours, trained himself to pick him out in a crowd.
And now he's seeing him everywhere.
Sam's life is such a mess of walking cliches, it's disgusting.
Be careful what you wish for? Check.
If it seems too good to be true, it probably is? Check.
Life isn't fair? Shit happens? Come on, we're talking 'Winchester motto' here.
And Sam doesn't even want to think about how much he's become the poster boy for The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Lately, though, the ones bothering him the most... It's a fine line between love and hate.
And of course, You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
Sam's eyes drift down to the side pocket of his bag, where he knows a certain DVD is resting. He won't pull it out, won't watch it - won't even look at it. He doesn't want to send up any red flags to Dean.
He's not throwing it out, though, either.
If Dean finds it, Sam already knows what to say. He'll shrug casually, give Dean an innocent look, and say It was a gift from an archangel, Dean. We don't know if it could still be useful, Dean. There could still be other clues on it, Dean.
Sam knows there's not. The first time he was alone, he combed through it. All of it. There's nothing, no other hints. No other Gabriel, even - a minute after the message ends, the film stutters, flickers, and Gabriel turns back into the original porn star. Like he barely had enough time to edit the message in the first place. It's sloppy, and desperate. And it makes it real.
And Sam can't throw it away. Fake moustaches and Hungarian jokes aside, this is more real than anything Gabriel's done in... a long time.
Sam knows. He's the Trickster expert, after all.
Dean wouldn't understand. Sam never told him what happened, after he died that first Wednesday. Sam didn't just chase down the Trickster, he hunted him. Slowly, methodically. Learned his methods, his motives... knew him inside out. Scoured security footage for hours, trained himself to pick him out in a crowd.
And now he's seeing him everywhere.
He thinks he's going crazy. First it was just a glance or two, out of the corner of his eye. An actor Gabriel's height and Gabriel's hair color would be on television. Sam would see it through a shop window, or in the background of a suspect's house. Instantly, his old Trickster-hunting instincts sound an alert and BAM he's spinning around, adrenaline pumping before his brain can catch up and say, No, Sam, he's dead.
They say this is normal when you lose someone, his brain rationalizes. But it's not normal, it's not bittersweet, and it's sure as hell not 'coping.' It's like he's playing a sick game of Where's Waldo, and now that Waldo's dead, his brain is just inserting him in wherever it wants.
Because two weeks in, they definitely stopped being look-alikes and started being Gabriel.
He probably should have known he was in trouble when the TV actually started flickering whenever he watched it. A television host is interviewing Obama and he stops to shuffle his notecards--when suddenly it's Gabriel shuffling the notecards, and then he's gone. The next day, he catches a scene from a Spanish soap and nearly forgets his cover ID in front of a victim when Gabriel walks on screen. But the first time the camera cuts away and back, it's not him anymore. Dean gave him a long look, then.
Later that night at the motel, there's a car commercial and for a split second Gabriel is the driver. Dean doesn't even flinch.
He's pretty sure he's the only one that sees it. And he's pretty sure that's not a good sign.
Sam becomes jumpy, snappy. He absolutely can't tell Dean about this, so he becomes almost paranoid trying to cover it up. And when Sam gets paranoid, Sam gets sloppy.
There's a moment of heart-stopping panic when Dean picks up an old copy of Weekly World News in a grocery checkout and says, "I wonder if this was where Gabriel got his ideas."
"It was," Sam answers without thinking, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to know that, that was something he put together when he was hunting Gabriel. He freezes and looks to Dean, heart pounding in his ears.
Dean just shrugs and says, "Yeah, I bet. Seems like his style."
That's the day Sam admits he has a problem - at least to himself. Leave it to him, Lucifer's vessel, the demon-boy who started the Apocalypse... leave it to him to be an archangel's stalker. Because, that's really what he is at this point. Funny how the terminology works. When you obsessively learn everything about a monster, then you're a hunter. Gabriel stopped being a monster to them a long time ago, though. And when you obsessively learn everything about a person...
For another two weeks, it was more of the same: Sam seeing Gabriel on TV constantly and devoting almost all of his time and energy into making sure he didn't reveal that he had this connection to him. He tried to relax a bit, to accept the fact that half the shows he watched had angelic cameos. He was even a little bit comforted by the fact that Gabriel seemed to be staying onscreen longer and longer, that he wasn't disappearing after the first camera cut or the first time Sam looked away. There was even an scene in Dr. Sexy that Gabriel had stayed for the entirety of, before winking directly at the camera as he flickered out. Sam felt like Gabriel was winking at him. He'd smiled at that. Dean had thrown a dirty shirt at his face and called him a girl, thinking he was smiling at the plot.
Sam couldn't even remember what the scene was about.
By the end of the month, Sam was almost at peace with all of it. I mean, sure, he was crazy and hallucinating, but hey, the world was ending. There wasn't any point in worrying about his mental stability when he'd probably be either dead or a meatsuit in another month or two. And somehow, seeing Gabriel's smartass smirk again was doing a lot for his spirits.
He should have known, then, that things were too good to last.
He was driving late one night. Dean was asleep in the passenger seat. The radio was off, the road was deserted, everything was quiet. Sam was tired, sure, but there wasn't really a time in the last, oh, five years that he wasn't at least a little sleep deprived. Really, things were pretty normal up until Gabriel somehow materializes on the road in front of him.
He appears just at the furthest edge of Sam's headlights and he has a split second to look confused, like he's not sure how he got there, before he looks up and panics, throwing his hands up in front of his face in a fruitless attempt to shield himself from the oncoming car.
Sam stands on the break. The car swerves, and he barely keeps it on the narrow two-lane road. And as the hood passes through Gabriel's crouching form, he flickers out and disappears.
Like a ghost.
Sam's blood runs cold and his heart races, his hands practically embedded in the steering wheel. Before he can even process --can that even, can archangels even-- Dean's awake and swearing and Sam doesn't know what to tell him.
The drive to the nearest town is torture. Sam is relegated to the passenger seat, possibly for the rest of his (admittedly short) life. He's able to make some feeble excuse about a deer before Dean starts in on a tirade the likes of which Sam has never seen, about how Sam didn't properly appreciate the car, how much damage he could have just done, how he could have gotten them killed. Sam tunes him out, numb with shock.
The idea that he could be haunted never occurred to him. It bothers him all the way to the motel. He's a hunter, he should think like that. But he didn't.
He wants to ask Bobby about it, but he has no idea how to explain it. He wants to ask Cas, but they're not even sure if he's alive.
And Dean, who's currently out front, under the Impala... Sam can't ask Dean. No way.
So he sits at the edge of his motel bed, staring down at the bag at his feet, with the DVD in the pocket. Thinking.
Wait.
Something occurs to him and his eyes focus. If Gabriel was a ghost, he'd been following them state to state for a month now. He wasn't confined to the motel he died at.
He said to guard the DVD with their lives. Maybe...
Sam's unzipping the pocket before he even realizes it. He grabs a few other items then heads out the back, praying Dean stays occupied with the car for a little while longer. He'll need to pick up somethings from the local store, but hey... they've made this work with a Spongebob placemat before. He can pull this off.
After the supply run, he breaks into an abandoned warehouse they passed on the way into town. For privacy. He arranges everything just right, then sits down carefully in front of everything, placing the DVD before him. He chants, the candles flicker, and then... nothing.
He's not sure exactly how long he waits there, but it's more than long enough for him to think how crazy and stupid this all is, and was he out of his mind, what if Dean notices he's gone, how will he explain this when suddenly--
"Sammy."
He looks up and sees Gabriel, standing opposite him looking confused, sad, and... something soft. It's uncharacteristically open for him, and Sam can feel his senses honing in on Gabriel completely. It's an odd feeling. His eyes have been trained to recognize everything Gabriel, everything Trickster for so long... every move, every shift has his full attention.
"Are you a ghost?" Sam asks, and his throat is dry.
Gabriel's eyebrows furrow, then he laughs. "No. And yes. Maybe? This is kind of new, kiddo."
"Are you... really you?" Sam asks without thinking, then balks at how foolish it sounds.
Gabriel doesn't mock him for it, though, which in itself makes his question justified. Instead, the angel continues to look slightly perplexed, his eyes darting off to the side in thought. "I'm me, but I'm all jumbled up," he decides finally. "Where was I before now?"
"Um, in the TV," Sam answers, and really, how awkward does that sound.
Gabriel laughs. "I think I remember watching Dr. Sexy."
"You've been following me," Sam says hesitantly. "Do you know why?" He studies Gabriel's face intently for some form of answer.
Gabriel puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs, rocking back on his feet. "I think I'm stuck," he says simply.
"So how do you get unstuck?" Sam asks, and really, isn't that the million dollar question.
"You're the ghost expert here, not me."
Sam's eyes narrow. "So you're saying you're a ghost then?"
Gabriel grins so wide his teeth show and bounces on his feet. "Angels can't be ghosts, knucklehead. Really, here I thought you were the smart one in the family."
Sam rolls his eyes. Yeah, he's pretty sure this is Gabriel. "So you do know you're dead then, right?" he asks rather abruptly, and feels terrible about it a moment later when Gabriel's grin falls.
"...Yeah. It was... it was Luci." Gabriel's face darkens and Sam's senses immediately go on high alert at the way the archangel stills. He flickers for a second, then looks up, as if seeing someone that isn't there.
Then he flinches and doubles over and suddenly there's blood soaking through his shirt.
"Gabriel?!" Sam jumps up and tries to reach out, but his hands pass right through the angel. He flickers again and starts to slump forward, suspended by nothing.
"Gabriel, snap out of it!" Sam shouts, but Gabriel doesn't seem to hear him at all.
The angel only seems to mouth wordlessly, staring into space, and Sam panics. Because he knows a damn death echo when he sees one.
Gabriel makes a choked sound and Sam runs a hand through his hair frantically. Think, Sam, think. Death echoes... salt and burn the corpse, no... wake them up, not working...
He sees the DVD on the floor and pauses. What if it doesn't work, what if it just destroys Sam's connection to him? Or worse, what if it breaks Gabriel's hold on this world all together -
What if Sam never sees him again?
But Gabriel lets out a pained scream and light starts to gather in his eyes, and Sam can't think like that right now. Whatever Gabriel's got right here in this world is pain, and Sam can't just sit by and do nothing.
Hands shaking, he grabs salt, lighter fluid... pours them over the DVD. Then he strikes a match, and tries to feel like his heart isn't somewhere in his stomach, like he's going to be sick all over the warehouse floor.
The second the match lands there's an accompanying flash of light and Sam can do nothing but flinch backwards, hiding his head in his arm. There's a roaring sound and the smell of smoke and he feels like all the air's been sucked out of the room.
He coughs weakly and waits for the spots to clear from his eyes, and when he hears a weak groan a few feet away he almost collapses from relief.
"Okay," Gabriel manages weakly, "maybe angels can at least sort of be ghosts."
"Are you..." Sam flounders. "Did you..."
"Apparently I just reenacted my death. Not my best work, I've got to say, but I'm glad I got that out of my system. I feel loads better!"
Sam gapes at him. How could he--, after he just--
Without thinking, he grabbs a handful of salt off the ground and throws it at the archangel.
Gabriel disappears with a squawk, and Sam has a brief few seconds to worry that he has (yet again) killed the incorporeal angel when he hears a voice behind his shoulder.
"Really, Sam? I mean, I know you have a rather low opinion of me, but did you really think I'd bind my grace to porn?"
Sam sputters, following the line of Gabriel's gaze to the DVD box, still smoldering. "You.. wait, your grace?"
Gabriel's grin is back. "I don't know how it works, it wasn't exactly planned. Somehow a chunk of my grace got stuck in you, though. Enough for me to stick around on this crazy ball of dirt, at least."
"Wait, me?" Sam asks, and feels like an idiot.
"Yes, you. I'm haunting you, not the porn. Comprende? Please stop torching inanimate objects. Especially works of art like that one."
"So you could get better? You could come back?" Sam turns to face him fully, and he can't deny the hope in his voice.
"I think so." Gabriel hesitates. "Eventually. I'm still pretty discombobulated. I'm feeling better since you summoned me here, though."
"How long do you think it will take?"
Gabriel sobers. "I'm not sure I'll be better fast enough to help you fight Luci."
Sam immediately feels like an asshole. "Gabriel, you died for us already. You- I mean...I just--"
"Hey now, none of that." Gabriel waves a hand, cutting him off before he can finish. "You want to thank me, Sammy-boy, thank me by not mentioning that whole dying bit. I have a reputation to maintain, after all. "
Sam huffs, then mutters, "You're a ghost. Exactly how subtle do you think you can be about having died?"
Gabriel laughs. "Not a ghost! More of an angel in-transit."
Gabriel's mood shifts again and he looks intently at Sam, tilting his head slightly. Sam wonders if it's an angel thing.
"Sam, do you mind if I haunt you a little while longer?"
Huh. Gabriel, asking for permission? Sam has to smile at that. Instead of answering, though, he says, "I thought angels didn't haunt."
Gabriel nods his head in a mock-formal bow. "Will you allow me to perch on your shoulder, then?"
Sam raises an eyebrow. "As an angel? Wouldn't that require good advice?"
"My advice is awesome and you know it," Gabriel pouts.
Before Sam can touch that, his phone rings. "Oh shit, it's Dean. He doesn't know I'm here."
"Do me a favor will you," Gabriel says before he can answer. "Don't tell Dean about me yet."
"What? Why." Sam's already in enough trouble with Dean as it is.
"Because it would ruin the fun," Gabriel says with a grin so mischievous that almost makes Sam back up a step. "Think of how great this can be, Sammy. In the room, invisible, he thinks I'm dead..."
Sam snorts. Okay, maybe he has a point. "Alright, but you're on my side in the next prank war. Deal?"
Gabriel's eyes sparkle like Christmas just came early. "Deal."
Author: crash_lib
Characters: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 5.19
Warnings: Angst and emoness abound. Happy ending though!
Summary:
Dean wouldn't understand. Sam never told him what happened, after he died that first Wednesday. Sam didn't just chase down the Trickster, he hunted him. Slowly, methodically. Learned his methods, his motives... knew him inside out. Scoured security footage for hours, trained himself to pick him out in a crowd.
And now he's seeing him everywhere.
Sam's life is such a mess of walking cliches, it's disgusting.
Be careful what you wish for? Check.
If it seems too good to be true, it probably is? Check.
Life isn't fair? Shit happens? Come on, we're talking 'Winchester motto' here.
And Sam doesn't even want to think about how much he's become the poster boy for The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Lately, though, the ones bothering him the most... It's a fine line between love and hate.
And of course, You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
Sam's eyes drift down to the side pocket of his bag, where he knows a certain DVD is resting. He won't pull it out, won't watch it - won't even look at it. He doesn't want to send up any red flags to Dean.
He's not throwing it out, though, either.
If Dean finds it, Sam already knows what to say. He'll shrug casually, give Dean an innocent look, and say It was a gift from an archangel, Dean. We don't know if it could still be useful, Dean. There could still be other clues on it, Dean.
Sam knows there's not. The first time he was alone, he combed through it. All of it. There's nothing, no other hints. No other Gabriel, even - a minute after the message ends, the film stutters, flickers, and Gabriel turns back into the original porn star. Like he barely had enough time to edit the message in the first place. It's sloppy, and desperate. And it makes it real.
And Sam can't throw it away. Fake moustaches and Hungarian jokes aside, this is more real than anything Gabriel's done in... a long time.
Sam knows. He's the Trickster expert, after all.
Dean wouldn't understand. Sam never told him what happened, after he died that first Wednesday. Sam didn't just chase down the Trickster, he hunted him. Slowly, methodically. Learned his methods, his motives... knew him inside out. Scoured security footage for hours, trained himself to pick him out in a crowd.
And now he's seeing him everywhere.
He thinks he's going crazy. First it was just a glance or two, out of the corner of his eye. An actor Gabriel's height and Gabriel's hair color would be on television. Sam would see it through a shop window, or in the background of a suspect's house. Instantly, his old Trickster-hunting instincts sound an alert and BAM he's spinning around, adrenaline pumping before his brain can catch up and say, No, Sam, he's dead.
They say this is normal when you lose someone, his brain rationalizes. But it's not normal, it's not bittersweet, and it's sure as hell not 'coping.' It's like he's playing a sick game of Where's Waldo, and now that Waldo's dead, his brain is just inserting him in wherever it wants.
Because two weeks in, they definitely stopped being look-alikes and started being Gabriel.
He probably should have known he was in trouble when the TV actually started flickering whenever he watched it. A television host is interviewing Obama and he stops to shuffle his notecards--when suddenly it's Gabriel shuffling the notecards, and then he's gone. The next day, he catches a scene from a Spanish soap and nearly forgets his cover ID in front of a victim when Gabriel walks on screen. But the first time the camera cuts away and back, it's not him anymore. Dean gave him a long look, then.
Later that night at the motel, there's a car commercial and for a split second Gabriel is the driver. Dean doesn't even flinch.
He's pretty sure he's the only one that sees it. And he's pretty sure that's not a good sign.
Sam becomes jumpy, snappy. He absolutely can't tell Dean about this, so he becomes almost paranoid trying to cover it up. And when Sam gets paranoid, Sam gets sloppy.
There's a moment of heart-stopping panic when Dean picks up an old copy of Weekly World News in a grocery checkout and says, "I wonder if this was where Gabriel got his ideas."
"It was," Sam answers without thinking, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to know that, that was something he put together when he was hunting Gabriel. He freezes and looks to Dean, heart pounding in his ears.
Dean just shrugs and says, "Yeah, I bet. Seems like his style."
That's the day Sam admits he has a problem - at least to himself. Leave it to him, Lucifer's vessel, the demon-boy who started the Apocalypse... leave it to him to be an archangel's stalker. Because, that's really what he is at this point. Funny how the terminology works. When you obsessively learn everything about a monster, then you're a hunter. Gabriel stopped being a monster to them a long time ago, though. And when you obsessively learn everything about a person...
For another two weeks, it was more of the same: Sam seeing Gabriel on TV constantly and devoting almost all of his time and energy into making sure he didn't reveal that he had this connection to him. He tried to relax a bit, to accept the fact that half the shows he watched had angelic cameos. He was even a little bit comforted by the fact that Gabriel seemed to be staying onscreen longer and longer, that he wasn't disappearing after the first camera cut or the first time Sam looked away. There was even an scene in Dr. Sexy that Gabriel had stayed for the entirety of, before winking directly at the camera as he flickered out. Sam felt like Gabriel was winking at him. He'd smiled at that. Dean had thrown a dirty shirt at his face and called him a girl, thinking he was smiling at the plot.
Sam couldn't even remember what the scene was about.
By the end of the month, Sam was almost at peace with all of it. I mean, sure, he was crazy and hallucinating, but hey, the world was ending. There wasn't any point in worrying about his mental stability when he'd probably be either dead or a meatsuit in another month or two. And somehow, seeing Gabriel's smartass smirk again was doing a lot for his spirits.
He should have known, then, that things were too good to last.
He was driving late one night. Dean was asleep in the passenger seat. The radio was off, the road was deserted, everything was quiet. Sam was tired, sure, but there wasn't really a time in the last, oh, five years that he wasn't at least a little sleep deprived. Really, things were pretty normal up until Gabriel somehow materializes on the road in front of him.
He appears just at the furthest edge of Sam's headlights and he has a split second to look confused, like he's not sure how he got there, before he looks up and panics, throwing his hands up in front of his face in a fruitless attempt to shield himself from the oncoming car.
Sam stands on the break. The car swerves, and he barely keeps it on the narrow two-lane road. And as the hood passes through Gabriel's crouching form, he flickers out and disappears.
Like a ghost.
Sam's blood runs cold and his heart races, his hands practically embedded in the steering wheel. Before he can even process --can that even, can archangels even-- Dean's awake and swearing and Sam doesn't know what to tell him.
The drive to the nearest town is torture. Sam is relegated to the passenger seat, possibly for the rest of his (admittedly short) life. He's able to make some feeble excuse about a deer before Dean starts in on a tirade the likes of which Sam has never seen, about how Sam didn't properly appreciate the car, how much damage he could have just done, how he could have gotten them killed. Sam tunes him out, numb with shock.
The idea that he could be haunted never occurred to him. It bothers him all the way to the motel. He's a hunter, he should think like that. But he didn't.
He wants to ask Bobby about it, but he has no idea how to explain it. He wants to ask Cas, but they're not even sure if he's alive.
And Dean, who's currently out front, under the Impala... Sam can't ask Dean. No way.
So he sits at the edge of his motel bed, staring down at the bag at his feet, with the DVD in the pocket. Thinking.
Wait.
Something occurs to him and his eyes focus. If Gabriel was a ghost, he'd been following them state to state for a month now. He wasn't confined to the motel he died at.
He said to guard the DVD with their lives. Maybe...
Sam's unzipping the pocket before he even realizes it. He grabs a few other items then heads out the back, praying Dean stays occupied with the car for a little while longer. He'll need to pick up somethings from the local store, but hey... they've made this work with a Spongebob placemat before. He can pull this off.
After the supply run, he breaks into an abandoned warehouse they passed on the way into town. For privacy. He arranges everything just right, then sits down carefully in front of everything, placing the DVD before him. He chants, the candles flicker, and then... nothing.
He's not sure exactly how long he waits there, but it's more than long enough for him to think how crazy and stupid this all is, and was he out of his mind, what if Dean notices he's gone, how will he explain this when suddenly--
"Sammy."
He looks up and sees Gabriel, standing opposite him looking confused, sad, and... something soft. It's uncharacteristically open for him, and Sam can feel his senses honing in on Gabriel completely. It's an odd feeling. His eyes have been trained to recognize everything Gabriel, everything Trickster for so long... every move, every shift has his full attention.
"Are you a ghost?" Sam asks, and his throat is dry.
Gabriel's eyebrows furrow, then he laughs. "No. And yes. Maybe? This is kind of new, kiddo."
"Are you... really you?" Sam asks without thinking, then balks at how foolish it sounds.
Gabriel doesn't mock him for it, though, which in itself makes his question justified. Instead, the angel continues to look slightly perplexed, his eyes darting off to the side in thought. "I'm me, but I'm all jumbled up," he decides finally. "Where was I before now?"
"Um, in the TV," Sam answers, and really, how awkward does that sound.
Gabriel laughs. "I think I remember watching Dr. Sexy."
"You've been following me," Sam says hesitantly. "Do you know why?" He studies Gabriel's face intently for some form of answer.
Gabriel puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs, rocking back on his feet. "I think I'm stuck," he says simply.
"So how do you get unstuck?" Sam asks, and really, isn't that the million dollar question.
"You're the ghost expert here, not me."
Sam's eyes narrow. "So you're saying you're a ghost then?"
Gabriel grins so wide his teeth show and bounces on his feet. "Angels can't be ghosts, knucklehead. Really, here I thought you were the smart one in the family."
Sam rolls his eyes. Yeah, he's pretty sure this is Gabriel. "So you do know you're dead then, right?" he asks rather abruptly, and feels terrible about it a moment later when Gabriel's grin falls.
"...Yeah. It was... it was Luci." Gabriel's face darkens and Sam's senses immediately go on high alert at the way the archangel stills. He flickers for a second, then looks up, as if seeing someone that isn't there.
Then he flinches and doubles over and suddenly there's blood soaking through his shirt.
"Gabriel?!" Sam jumps up and tries to reach out, but his hands pass right through the angel. He flickers again and starts to slump forward, suspended by nothing.
"Gabriel, snap out of it!" Sam shouts, but Gabriel doesn't seem to hear him at all.
The angel only seems to mouth wordlessly, staring into space, and Sam panics. Because he knows a damn death echo when he sees one.
Gabriel makes a choked sound and Sam runs a hand through his hair frantically. Think, Sam, think. Death echoes... salt and burn the corpse, no... wake them up, not working...
He sees the DVD on the floor and pauses. What if it doesn't work, what if it just destroys Sam's connection to him? Or worse, what if it breaks Gabriel's hold on this world all together -
What if Sam never sees him again?
But Gabriel lets out a pained scream and light starts to gather in his eyes, and Sam can't think like that right now. Whatever Gabriel's got right here in this world is pain, and Sam can't just sit by and do nothing.
Hands shaking, he grabs salt, lighter fluid... pours them over the DVD. Then he strikes a match, and tries to feel like his heart isn't somewhere in his stomach, like he's going to be sick all over the warehouse floor.
The second the match lands there's an accompanying flash of light and Sam can do nothing but flinch backwards, hiding his head in his arm. There's a roaring sound and the smell of smoke and he feels like all the air's been sucked out of the room.
He coughs weakly and waits for the spots to clear from his eyes, and when he hears a weak groan a few feet away he almost collapses from relief.
"Okay," Gabriel manages weakly, "maybe angels can at least sort of be ghosts."
"Are you..." Sam flounders. "Did you..."
"Apparently I just reenacted my death. Not my best work, I've got to say, but I'm glad I got that out of my system. I feel loads better!"
Sam gapes at him. How could he--, after he just--
Without thinking, he grabbs a handful of salt off the ground and throws it at the archangel.
Gabriel disappears with a squawk, and Sam has a brief few seconds to worry that he has (yet again) killed the incorporeal angel when he hears a voice behind his shoulder.
"Really, Sam? I mean, I know you have a rather low opinion of me, but did you really think I'd bind my grace to porn?"
Sam sputters, following the line of Gabriel's gaze to the DVD box, still smoldering. "You.. wait, your grace?"
Gabriel's grin is back. "I don't know how it works, it wasn't exactly planned. Somehow a chunk of my grace got stuck in you, though. Enough for me to stick around on this crazy ball of dirt, at least."
"Wait, me?" Sam asks, and feels like an idiot.
"Yes, you. I'm haunting you, not the porn. Comprende? Please stop torching inanimate objects. Especially works of art like that one."
"So you could get better? You could come back?" Sam turns to face him fully, and he can't deny the hope in his voice.
"I think so." Gabriel hesitates. "Eventually. I'm still pretty discombobulated. I'm feeling better since you summoned me here, though."
"How long do you think it will take?"
Gabriel sobers. "I'm not sure I'll be better fast enough to help you fight Luci."
Sam immediately feels like an asshole. "Gabriel, you died for us already. You- I mean...I just--"
"Hey now, none of that." Gabriel waves a hand, cutting him off before he can finish. "You want to thank me, Sammy-boy, thank me by not mentioning that whole dying bit. I have a reputation to maintain, after all. "
Sam huffs, then mutters, "You're a ghost. Exactly how subtle do you think you can be about having died?"
Gabriel laughs. "Not a ghost! More of an angel in-transit."
Gabriel's mood shifts again and he looks intently at Sam, tilting his head slightly. Sam wonders if it's an angel thing.
"Sam, do you mind if I haunt you a little while longer?"
Huh. Gabriel, asking for permission? Sam has to smile at that. Instead of answering, though, he says, "I thought angels didn't haunt."
Gabriel nods his head in a mock-formal bow. "Will you allow me to perch on your shoulder, then?"
Sam raises an eyebrow. "As an angel? Wouldn't that require good advice?"
"My advice is awesome and you know it," Gabriel pouts.
Before Sam can touch that, his phone rings. "Oh shit, it's Dean. He doesn't know I'm here."
"Do me a favor will you," Gabriel says before he can answer. "Don't tell Dean about me yet."
"What? Why." Sam's already in enough trouble with Dean as it is.
"Because it would ruin the fun," Gabriel says with a grin so mischievous that almost makes Sam back up a step. "Think of how great this can be, Sammy. In the room, invisible, he thinks I'm dead..."
Sam snorts. Okay, maybe he has a point. "Alright, but you're on my side in the next prank war. Deal?"
Gabriel's eyes sparkle like Christmas just came early. "Deal."