Fanfiction: Blue (3)
Title: Blue (Chapter Three)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gabriel/Sam
Rating: R
Warnings: Male pregnancy, abortion attempts, violence, blood, OC deaths, swearing.
Previous: 1 | 2
Note: Chapter betaed by blackmagic661 ♥
Summary: Someone, or something, has drawn the Winchesters and archangels to a strange device capable of impregnating anything it touches. Sam and Gabriel end up coming into contact with it, and Sam becomes pregnant. The problem is, this thing inside Sam is only part human, and him having it to term is likely to kill him. When primary attempts to remove the creature all fail, everyone must find another way of getting rid of the hybrid child before it's born, especially when they figure out just who has plans for it once it comes of age.
-o-
Chapter Three
Gabriel felt strange.
The odd sensation he was being subjected to could be pinpointed to the action he was doing right now; that was, waking up. His body wasn't functioning properly. With his limbs weak and basically useless at the moment, his eyelids seemed to have gained some weight. Trying to open his eyes was like a chore, and one that he honestly couldn't be bothered to do. Despite this, he knew that he needed to get off his suddenly lazy ass and regain some focus. He was far too vulnerable in this state.
Holding back on the groan that wanted to pass through his lips, Gabriel opened his eyes. That action alone appeared to require much more energy consumption than should have been necessary. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew the answer, of course: he shouldn't be waking up in the first place, since the act of sleep - or unconsciousness, or whatever - was supposed to be an activity he couldn't achieve.
Staring up at the ceiling as he let his body adjust to a sensation it wasn't used to, Gabriel was vaguely aware of some noise coming from his left. Eyes narrowing a touch, he turned his head so he could see what was there. His gaze roamed over the room and, cursing the dreariness he still felt, Gabriel let out a confused huff when he caught sight of Sam and Dean Winchester. The two men were standing a few feet from the door, and judging by their expressions, they were worried about something. Lips forming a thin line, Gabriel decided that it was about time he got up from the floor.
Redirecting his attention to that one goal, he pushed himself up until his back was firmly off the ground and his elbows were being used to support his upper body. Blinking dazedly at the far wall when the tiny action resulted in him having to speed up his breathing, Gabriel noted with befuddlement that he felt exhausted. Skin too warm and with his wings feeling inexplicably heavy, Gabriel noted, with gratitude, that it was a good thing the manifestation of his largest physical attributes didn't need effort or energy to hide. If they did, then there would certainly be two blind humans sharing this room with him.
"Gabriel?"
Jerking in a surprise that should not have been produced - being an archangel, surprise was foreign to him, considering his extra senses prevented anything from being able to sneak up on him - and snapping his gaze to Sam and Dean, Gabriel felt his confusion waver for a moment, before disappearing completely as he settled for looking at the younger of the two.
Unable to stop his frown, Gabriel pushed himself up off his elbows and into a proper sitting position. Leaving his legs sprawled out, he was aware that he seemed to be wet. Noticing that his body was covered in a considerable amount of sweat, Gabriel's frown lowered into a disgusted scowl as he made the moisture disappear with a thought. Alarm bells had started ringing in his mind as he went over all the things he was experiencing that weren't considered normal. First, there was sleep, followed by a tiredness upon waking up that was unheard of, and now his vessel was producing a liquid that it hadn't created since he'd first made the thing? What in Heaven's name was wrong with him?
"You okay?" Sam was the person who asked the question. Scowl all but vanishing, Gabriel let a small, almost unsure smile tug at the corners of his lips.
"No idea," he said; he honestly didn't. His memories weren't in their best working order at the moment, and he was aware that there were large instances of blankness in which he had no recollection of anything. Given the evidence, there was a high chance that the real answer to Sam's enquiry was a resounding no, but he needed more proof before he could confidently state it out loud.
"Well, as I was saying before the idiot over there woke up," Dean started, pointedly looking at his brother and ignoring the worry in his features, "I think it's high time we got out of here."
"Dean." The warning in Sam's tone didn't seem to gain anything in return, other than a glare.
"It doesn't matter if there's something wrong with him." Dean gestured towards Gabriel, before a thin smile made its way onto his face. "Or are you forgetting that he's the reason you got knocked out in the first place?"
Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face, although it was only in a figurative sense. Paling quite considerably as Dean's words sunk in, Gabriel wasn't able to understand the guilt and horror that rapidly rushed through him. Sam had been knocked out, and it was his fault? That couldn't be true. He wouldn't hurt Sam in any way; it was too nauseating to even think that he had.
But that wasn't right. There was a contradiction in his thoughts, as though that basic desire had already been broken some time in the past; on countless occasions, too. The words 'Mystery' and 'Spot' immediately came to mind, but Gabriel couldn't decipher what they meant. It was one of the memories that seemed to have been carved out, somehow, although the words themselves were still prevalent. Gabriel's hands curled into fists as frustration began overtaking him. This wasn't fair. How on Earth was he supposed to function correctly if his mind wasn't co-operating?
"Gabriel?"
The name dragged Gabriel from his thoughts, and he stared blankly at Sam for a few moments before he realised why Sam was looking at him with mild concern. Turning his gaze to the wooden table that was situated to his right, Gabriel pushed back on the powers that he hadn't even realised he'd been emitting. The table stopped shaking instantly. Swallowing back any remark, for he didn't actually know what to say, Gabriel dropped his gaze to the ground beneath his body.
He wasn't in a good state of mind right now, and he wanted to figure out why.
-o-
Lying back on his bed, Sam closed his eyes. The pillow under his head was thin and covered with a material coloured in a dirty cream, but he didn't care, because comfort wasn't what he was trying to gain from it. Revelling in the coolness of the smooth pillow case, Sam drew in a deep breath, then let the air back out in a long sigh. Returning his breathing to a regular rhythm after doing this, Sam turned his head a touch to the side.
Though the motels he and Dean stayed in weren't exactly top notch when it came to decoration and comfort, Sam still appreciated having a solid, real bed to sleep in at night. Even if they turned out to be lumpy or too hard - they usually did, unless they got lucky - the mattresses of the beds were what Sam was used to, and they gave him essentially all that was needed. Fancy sheets and polished wood or metal frames weren't required for a good rest.
Trailing his tongue along his lips and noticing that they were slightly dry, Sam opened his eyes. He took in the plain white ceiling with a forlorn look, because he knew he couldn't stay put. Other than having some research to do on devices that let out lights that were capable of making one go unconscious, there was also the fact that he was hungry; very much so.
Sam groaned. Today was turning out to be much more complicated than originally assumed, and tomorrow was set to be worse. Sam and Dean had quickly returned to the motel after Gabriel had all but disappeared on them without the tiniest warning. The other archangels' worry that he would tear apart half a continent seemed to have been misplaced, though Sam was desperately glad about that.
The decision to come back here didn't mean they were giving up on the device. Picking up the round object and bringing it to this room was not going to happen, due to what happened the last time someone touched it, so that left Sam and Dean with a single option: they'd have to make several return trips to the abandoned building.
That could wait, though. Tonight, both Winchesters wanted to catch up on some well deserved rest. It wasn't every day that they came into contact with four archangels, and got out of it with their lives intact.
Blowing out another sigh, Sam pushed himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. The action itself was fast and simple, but the resulting feeling of dizziness that hit Sam moments after doing it was not. Blinking rapidly a few times, Sam's fingers curled around the edge of the bed as he tried to make his vision stop spinning. He hummed in tiny annoyance when the feeling didn't immediately subside.
"You ready to go?"
Eyes flickering to Dean as he walked into the room from the bathroom, Sam lifted his head in a half nod.
"Where are we going?"
Dean smiled. "To eat."
-o-
The diner had looked incredibly promising. With spotless windows, clean cut table cloths, and chairs that had cushions on them to provide a nice place to sit, the place had given off such a wonderful atmosphere and the pretence of good food.
Staring down at the plate that had been sitting on the table in front of him for the past five minutes, Sam had come to the conclusion that the food did, indeed, appear to be edible and rather tasty. Cooked well and presented neatly, he could see the steam rising from it. Both the fork and knife on either side were clean and shiny, whilst the drink that lay to the fork's left was hot and in a suitable cup. If Sam were to put this diner on a chart with many of the others he'd been in, it would rank close to the top in terms of which were the best.
There was but one problem: just the thought of taking one bite of anything on the plate made Sam want to throw up. The smell alone was almost making him heave; he had opted to breathing through his mouth for the time being. What didn't help was the sight and sound of his brother enjoying his own meal a mere seat away.
"You going to eat that?"
Dean's tone was laced with concern and under any other circumstance Sam would have appreciated his care. What ruptured Sam's warmth in response to it, though, was the muffle Dean's voice produced from having not swallowed before asking the question. Sam knew that looking at Dean was a bad idea; he did it anyway.
His gaze, despite his best efforts, was drawn to Dean's mouth and the mush of food that he was still chewing. With all the colour draining from his face, Sam felt his body go cold as the desire to be sick increased ten fold. Ignoring his own shivers and Dean's startled reaction when he stood up from his chair abruptly, Sam made a hasty retreat to the restroom. Pushing the door open and quickly making his way to the men's room, he rushed inside and was thankful when all the stalls were vacant. Moving to the nearest one and making sure to lock himself inside, he dropped to his knees and began dry heaving almost straight away.
It took a few seconds, but his throat finally stopped trying to force out something that was not there. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, meaning his stomach was empty of anything that could be used as vomit. Sam didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
"Sammy?"
Breaths shaky as he tried to calm his body down and halt its trembling, Sam realised that he hadn't heard Dean follow him. Logically, he should have expected it, especially with their lack of knowledge as to what the stupid hunk of a device had actually done to him. If the after effect was sickness, then Sam could put up with that; if it was something more, and this was simply the beginning, Sam didn't know how they were going to cope. What if he suddenly sprouted claws and started attacking people at random? Sure, it was far fetched, but anything was possible in his and Dean's screwed up reality.
"Dude, you okay in there?"
Grunting out a reply, Sam noted that he seemed incapable of producing actual words right now. Just the idea of trying to talk was enough to make him cringe as his stomach began protesting once more. Wrapping an arm around his middle, Sam closed his eyes as his other hand began shaking slightly. He had a feeling that, if he looked, his knuckles would be white due to the grip he currently had on the toilet seat.
His heart was racing, most of his skin was coated in a fine dusting of sweat, but he was really cold. Opening his eyes again when it seemed he wouldn't heave in the next couple of seconds, Sam found it difficult to swallow. With a dry throat and mouth, he licked at his lips a few times in an attempt to produce some more saliva to help ease some moisture back into the area. He wanted a drink; he wasn't entirely picky as to whether the refreshment was warm or cool.
Grudgingly, he released his stomach and placed his hand opposite the other one on the toilet. Taking a deep breath and holding it in, he pushed slowly until he was standing on his feet. Still gripping the seat, he stayed in a slouched position as he released the air back out. Drawing in a couple more deep breaths, before letting his breathing even out, Sam let his hands relax, then straightened up to his full height. Swaying on the spot momentarily, he let himself adjust to the change in position before turning cautiously to the door that blocked him from the outside world.
Sniffing, and paying no attention to the clinical smell surrounding him, Sam reached for the lock and pulled it open. Not letting go of the metal, Sam pulled in his direction so the door itself would open. Lifting his gaze from his fingers, Sam found Dean standing there with a small frown marring his features.
"I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "Just need some water."
Dean nodded. Watching as his brother walked out the room, Sam decided it would be best to follow, albeit at a much more sluggish pace.
As he reached the exit and stepped back into the main part of the diner, Sam was handed a glass. Throwing Dean a smile in thanks, he took a long swig of the icy liquid. Downing about three quarters of it in one go, Sam's body sagged a tiny amount in relief as the parched feeling in his entire being dissipated. It felt magnificent.
Tipping the rest of the water into his mouth and swallowing it back with a satisfied smile, Sam stepped over to their table and placed the now empty glass on it. His food was still sitting there, untouched and mocking him. Although Sam knew that the latter thing was kind of stupid, he couldn't prevent himself from imagining it. His hunger was present, and would be for the rest of the night, but that wasn't too bad. There was no way in Hell he was going to eat anything in the next few hours, so there was no use in feeling sorry for himself.
Glancing at Dean and asking if he'd already paid for everything, Sam headed towards the exit at Dean's answer. Stepping out into the warm air and allowing a wary smile to light up his face, Sam started in the direction of their motel. Grateful that it was only a short walk away, meaning they hadn't needed the Impala - Sam didn't get motion sickness, but being a passenger was something that would not have turned out well had it been required right at this moment - he shoved his hands in his pockets as Dean caught up to him.
"What was that?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged. He had no clue, but he wanted to find out if it had anything to do with what had happened earlier.
-o-
Running from the building had been a mistake. Gabriel had an incline that, prior to the paranoia that had seeped into him the second he'd landed from his flight, he'd already known it would turn out to be one. That hadn't stopped him from leaving, regardless.
What was troubling, was that he'd returned to the location just an hour later, thinking it would somehow remove the revolting feelings running through his form. Finding out that his emotions had not settled upon arrival at the place, nor after spending half an hour there, Gabriel had come to the conclusion that it wasn't the building that was causing him to feel terrible.
That left him at a dead end. Yes, he'd regained some memories, and knew that the device he'd seen lying on the building's floor had been the cause of his unconsciousness, but that didn't help him with his current predicament. With his wings staying unnaturally taut even during flight, with his emotions becoming uncontrollable, and with his Grace practically screaming out for him to get to somewhere in which he didn't actually know the location of, Gabriel was starting to become desperate. He needed to get rid of this feeling. It was vile, and although it wasn't in a literal sense, it still seemed like it was tearing him apart.
Gritting his teeth together, Gabriel understood that flying around aimlessly in the hopes of finding whatever it was he was looking for wasn't exactly productive. Despite knowing this, he couldn't sit down and do nothing. Already he'd lashed out with some of his power for no apparent reason; though he'd been in a field at the time, so no one had got hurt, it was still an extremely dangerous sign. The idea of releasing some force from his Grace in a populated area was beginning to appeal to him, with every passing second, and that would not do. Of course, he'd dealt killings before, but only to those that deserved it. The growing desire currently building within him didn't seem to care if the souls were guilty or not.
He was at a loss as to what to do. Where could he go to get help? Heaven was out, and going on a hunt for one of his older brothers would probably end in disaster. The pagans were off the list, too, since they had no idea about his real identity.
Who did that leave?
Quickly scanning his immediate area, Gabriel located the closest building and landed on it. As his feet touched the solidness of the roof, an unbelievable rage surged through him. Hot and rapid, it pulsed down and past all his defenses - they were the last thing he could rely on when hit with an emotional attack of any kind - before settling in the core of his Grace.
Growling out a yell of frustrated anger, Gabriel focused some of his energy into one of his feet. Waiting for it to develop into something lethal - it took no more than a tenth of a second, by human counting - and revelling a tad at the familiar burn of power, he lifted his leg up slowly, before stomping with abrupt determination. At once, the metal and concrete below him distorted and snapped apart. Listening to the cracking as beams tore from their holdings and walls smashed into millions of minuscule pieces, Gabriel's expression became impassive as the screams that had started quickly began increasing in volume.
He spread his wings out and flapped them idly as the building caved in on itself, so he wouldn't fall along with it. Gabriel noticed a distinct smell of dust begin to filter through the air as he watched the broken pieces of what remained of the building settle into a pile on the ground. Breathing in deeply, he knew that, had he been human, the particles would have made him sneeze.
Eyes roaming over the growing mass of people that had been witness to the building's collapse, Gabriel frowned. There had been humans in the structure he'd just totalled. He could hear some cries now, from those who'd actually managed to survive the initial carnage. Mouth parting slightly, Gabriel found that he couldn't muster up any words.
What in Hell's name had he done?
Lips forming a thin line, Gabriel closed his eyes as the last of his fury faded away. What replaced that emotion was not wanted, yet it came without remorse. He despised shame. It was one of a few emotions that he rarely experienced; each time it turned up, he developed an even greater loathing of it. Worse than fear, guilt or horror, shame couldn't be edited or removed by distraction. It was a constant, and one that would stay within him for far too long.
Cursing the fact that he couldn't undo the damage that he'd done, for it would at least lessen what he was feeling, Gabriel opened his eyes once more to do a quick sweep of the mess he had created. Three dozen lives had been taken - not because of mercy or motive, but because they had been there and in the way of his outburst - and from what he could determine, at least four or five more people would die before any medical help even reached the area.
Knowing he couldn't do anything to put this right without drawing unwanted attention from his brothers, Gabriel closed his eyes. The scornful smile that made its way onto his face was completely involuntary. Immoral didn't even begin to describe how cruel this situation was.
Hesitating for a moment as he tried to block off the sound of peoples' wails, Gabriel knew that there was only one thing he could do to try and stop some of the pain the people were suffering. Though it was harsh, it would be for the best.
Lifting an arm, he snapped his fingers, and every survivor trapped in the rubble died.
Unable to stay any longer, Gabriel turned around and began heading to any place that wasn't there. He didn't know what he could possibly do to put this right. Even though the destroyed building could be pinpointed to faulty design plans, the fact was, if he continued in this pattern, he'd undoubtedly gain the attention of his brothers despite his best efforts. They would recognise him using his powers eventually, and he wasn't sure what they'd do if they found him.
Understanding that neither Michael, Lucifer or Raphael had done anything when they'd all been tricked to the location of the device wasn't enough to put his mind at rest. The circumstances had been different, and there had been an unknown object involved that could somehow hurt archangels. It wasn't too hard to come to the conclusion that his brothers had simply done a runner between him touching the thing, and him waking up. For what reason, he didn't know, but he wasn't willing to put his life on the line to get any answers from them.
Holding back on the shout that wanted to escape his throat, Gabriel halted his flight and once again found himself perching on a rooftop. This time, he made sure there were no occupants within it first, before landing safely on its surface. He did not want a repeat performance of the last few minutes.
Gabriel sighed. The night was cool and there were only a couple of clouds in the sky. He paid little attention to that, though. Walking over to the edge of the roof, he peered down at the gloomy streets below. The late hour meant that the roads were empty, save for the parked cars.
Body going still as he glanced upon one of the cars in particular, Gabriel was hit with a rather strange epiphany. They owed him nothing and would probably deny any requests he made, but that didn't matter. It was an option; one that couldn't get him killed on the spot. Smiling slightly, Gabriel relaxed as he sat down. He understood that waiting until morning was not a good idea, considering his emotions. But, staring down at the car, Gabriel noticed that his aggravation had actually begun settling down a touch. Was that a good thing, or should he take it as a warning?
In all honesty, Gabriel didn't care, because the Impala was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all day, and he was not moving until he knew the Winchesters had woken up.
To Be Continued
-o-
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gabriel/Sam
Rating: R
Warnings: Male pregnancy, abortion attempts, violence, blood, OC deaths, swearing.
Previous: 1 | 2
Note: Chapter betaed by blackmagic661 ♥
Summary: Someone, or something, has drawn the Winchesters and archangels to a strange device capable of impregnating anything it touches. Sam and Gabriel end up coming into contact with it, and Sam becomes pregnant. The problem is, this thing inside Sam is only part human, and him having it to term is likely to kill him. When primary attempts to remove the creature all fail, everyone must find another way of getting rid of the hybrid child before it's born, especially when they figure out just who has plans for it once it comes of age.
-o-
Chapter Three
Gabriel felt strange.
The odd sensation he was being subjected to could be pinpointed to the action he was doing right now; that was, waking up. His body wasn't functioning properly. With his limbs weak and basically useless at the moment, his eyelids seemed to have gained some weight. Trying to open his eyes was like a chore, and one that he honestly couldn't be bothered to do. Despite this, he knew that he needed to get off his suddenly lazy ass and regain some focus. He was far too vulnerable in this state.
Holding back on the groan that wanted to pass through his lips, Gabriel opened his eyes. That action alone appeared to require much more energy consumption than should have been necessary. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew the answer, of course: he shouldn't be waking up in the first place, since the act of sleep - or unconsciousness, or whatever - was supposed to be an activity he couldn't achieve.
Staring up at the ceiling as he let his body adjust to a sensation it wasn't used to, Gabriel was vaguely aware of some noise coming from his left. Eyes narrowing a touch, he turned his head so he could see what was there. His gaze roamed over the room and, cursing the dreariness he still felt, Gabriel let out a confused huff when he caught sight of Sam and Dean Winchester. The two men were standing a few feet from the door, and judging by their expressions, they were worried about something. Lips forming a thin line, Gabriel decided that it was about time he got up from the floor.
Redirecting his attention to that one goal, he pushed himself up until his back was firmly off the ground and his elbows were being used to support his upper body. Blinking dazedly at the far wall when the tiny action resulted in him having to speed up his breathing, Gabriel noted with befuddlement that he felt exhausted. Skin too warm and with his wings feeling inexplicably heavy, Gabriel noted, with gratitude, that it was a good thing the manifestation of his largest physical attributes didn't need effort or energy to hide. If they did, then there would certainly be two blind humans sharing this room with him.
"Gabriel?"
Jerking in a surprise that should not have been produced - being an archangel, surprise was foreign to him, considering his extra senses prevented anything from being able to sneak up on him - and snapping his gaze to Sam and Dean, Gabriel felt his confusion waver for a moment, before disappearing completely as he settled for looking at the younger of the two.
Unable to stop his frown, Gabriel pushed himself up off his elbows and into a proper sitting position. Leaving his legs sprawled out, he was aware that he seemed to be wet. Noticing that his body was covered in a considerable amount of sweat, Gabriel's frown lowered into a disgusted scowl as he made the moisture disappear with a thought. Alarm bells had started ringing in his mind as he went over all the things he was experiencing that weren't considered normal. First, there was sleep, followed by a tiredness upon waking up that was unheard of, and now his vessel was producing a liquid that it hadn't created since he'd first made the thing? What in Heaven's name was wrong with him?
"You okay?" Sam was the person who asked the question. Scowl all but vanishing, Gabriel let a small, almost unsure smile tug at the corners of his lips.
"No idea," he said; he honestly didn't. His memories weren't in their best working order at the moment, and he was aware that there were large instances of blankness in which he had no recollection of anything. Given the evidence, there was a high chance that the real answer to Sam's enquiry was a resounding no, but he needed more proof before he could confidently state it out loud.
"Well, as I was saying before the idiot over there woke up," Dean started, pointedly looking at his brother and ignoring the worry in his features, "I think it's high time we got out of here."
"Dean." The warning in Sam's tone didn't seem to gain anything in return, other than a glare.
"It doesn't matter if there's something wrong with him." Dean gestured towards Gabriel, before a thin smile made its way onto his face. "Or are you forgetting that he's the reason you got knocked out in the first place?"
Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face, although it was only in a figurative sense. Paling quite considerably as Dean's words sunk in, Gabriel wasn't able to understand the guilt and horror that rapidly rushed through him. Sam had been knocked out, and it was his fault? That couldn't be true. He wouldn't hurt Sam in any way; it was too nauseating to even think that he had.
But that wasn't right. There was a contradiction in his thoughts, as though that basic desire had already been broken some time in the past; on countless occasions, too. The words 'Mystery' and 'Spot' immediately came to mind, but Gabriel couldn't decipher what they meant. It was one of the memories that seemed to have been carved out, somehow, although the words themselves were still prevalent. Gabriel's hands curled into fists as frustration began overtaking him. This wasn't fair. How on Earth was he supposed to function correctly if his mind wasn't co-operating?
"Gabriel?"
The name dragged Gabriel from his thoughts, and he stared blankly at Sam for a few moments before he realised why Sam was looking at him with mild concern. Turning his gaze to the wooden table that was situated to his right, Gabriel pushed back on the powers that he hadn't even realised he'd been emitting. The table stopped shaking instantly. Swallowing back any remark, for he didn't actually know what to say, Gabriel dropped his gaze to the ground beneath his body.
He wasn't in a good state of mind right now, and he wanted to figure out why.
-o-
Lying back on his bed, Sam closed his eyes. The pillow under his head was thin and covered with a material coloured in a dirty cream, but he didn't care, because comfort wasn't what he was trying to gain from it. Revelling in the coolness of the smooth pillow case, Sam drew in a deep breath, then let the air back out in a long sigh. Returning his breathing to a regular rhythm after doing this, Sam turned his head a touch to the side.
Though the motels he and Dean stayed in weren't exactly top notch when it came to decoration and comfort, Sam still appreciated having a solid, real bed to sleep in at night. Even if they turned out to be lumpy or too hard - they usually did, unless they got lucky - the mattresses of the beds were what Sam was used to, and they gave him essentially all that was needed. Fancy sheets and polished wood or metal frames weren't required for a good rest.
Trailing his tongue along his lips and noticing that they were slightly dry, Sam opened his eyes. He took in the plain white ceiling with a forlorn look, because he knew he couldn't stay put. Other than having some research to do on devices that let out lights that were capable of making one go unconscious, there was also the fact that he was hungry; very much so.
Sam groaned. Today was turning out to be much more complicated than originally assumed, and tomorrow was set to be worse. Sam and Dean had quickly returned to the motel after Gabriel had all but disappeared on them without the tiniest warning. The other archangels' worry that he would tear apart half a continent seemed to have been misplaced, though Sam was desperately glad about that.
The decision to come back here didn't mean they were giving up on the device. Picking up the round object and bringing it to this room was not going to happen, due to what happened the last time someone touched it, so that left Sam and Dean with a single option: they'd have to make several return trips to the abandoned building.
That could wait, though. Tonight, both Winchesters wanted to catch up on some well deserved rest. It wasn't every day that they came into contact with four archangels, and got out of it with their lives intact.
Blowing out another sigh, Sam pushed himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. The action itself was fast and simple, but the resulting feeling of dizziness that hit Sam moments after doing it was not. Blinking rapidly a few times, Sam's fingers curled around the edge of the bed as he tried to make his vision stop spinning. He hummed in tiny annoyance when the feeling didn't immediately subside.
"You ready to go?"
Eyes flickering to Dean as he walked into the room from the bathroom, Sam lifted his head in a half nod.
"Where are we going?"
Dean smiled. "To eat."
-o-
The diner had looked incredibly promising. With spotless windows, clean cut table cloths, and chairs that had cushions on them to provide a nice place to sit, the place had given off such a wonderful atmosphere and the pretence of good food.
Staring down at the plate that had been sitting on the table in front of him for the past five minutes, Sam had come to the conclusion that the food did, indeed, appear to be edible and rather tasty. Cooked well and presented neatly, he could see the steam rising from it. Both the fork and knife on either side were clean and shiny, whilst the drink that lay to the fork's left was hot and in a suitable cup. If Sam were to put this diner on a chart with many of the others he'd been in, it would rank close to the top in terms of which were the best.
There was but one problem: just the thought of taking one bite of anything on the plate made Sam want to throw up. The smell alone was almost making him heave; he had opted to breathing through his mouth for the time being. What didn't help was the sight and sound of his brother enjoying his own meal a mere seat away.
"You going to eat that?"
Dean's tone was laced with concern and under any other circumstance Sam would have appreciated his care. What ruptured Sam's warmth in response to it, though, was the muffle Dean's voice produced from having not swallowed before asking the question. Sam knew that looking at Dean was a bad idea; he did it anyway.
His gaze, despite his best efforts, was drawn to Dean's mouth and the mush of food that he was still chewing. With all the colour draining from his face, Sam felt his body go cold as the desire to be sick increased ten fold. Ignoring his own shivers and Dean's startled reaction when he stood up from his chair abruptly, Sam made a hasty retreat to the restroom. Pushing the door open and quickly making his way to the men's room, he rushed inside and was thankful when all the stalls were vacant. Moving to the nearest one and making sure to lock himself inside, he dropped to his knees and began dry heaving almost straight away.
It took a few seconds, but his throat finally stopped trying to force out something that was not there. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, meaning his stomach was empty of anything that could be used as vomit. Sam didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
"Sammy?"
Breaths shaky as he tried to calm his body down and halt its trembling, Sam realised that he hadn't heard Dean follow him. Logically, he should have expected it, especially with their lack of knowledge as to what the stupid hunk of a device had actually done to him. If the after effect was sickness, then Sam could put up with that; if it was something more, and this was simply the beginning, Sam didn't know how they were going to cope. What if he suddenly sprouted claws and started attacking people at random? Sure, it was far fetched, but anything was possible in his and Dean's screwed up reality.
"Dude, you okay in there?"
Grunting out a reply, Sam noted that he seemed incapable of producing actual words right now. Just the idea of trying to talk was enough to make him cringe as his stomach began protesting once more. Wrapping an arm around his middle, Sam closed his eyes as his other hand began shaking slightly. He had a feeling that, if he looked, his knuckles would be white due to the grip he currently had on the toilet seat.
His heart was racing, most of his skin was coated in a fine dusting of sweat, but he was really cold. Opening his eyes again when it seemed he wouldn't heave in the next couple of seconds, Sam found it difficult to swallow. With a dry throat and mouth, he licked at his lips a few times in an attempt to produce some more saliva to help ease some moisture back into the area. He wanted a drink; he wasn't entirely picky as to whether the refreshment was warm or cool.
Grudgingly, he released his stomach and placed his hand opposite the other one on the toilet. Taking a deep breath and holding it in, he pushed slowly until he was standing on his feet. Still gripping the seat, he stayed in a slouched position as he released the air back out. Drawing in a couple more deep breaths, before letting his breathing even out, Sam let his hands relax, then straightened up to his full height. Swaying on the spot momentarily, he let himself adjust to the change in position before turning cautiously to the door that blocked him from the outside world.
Sniffing, and paying no attention to the clinical smell surrounding him, Sam reached for the lock and pulled it open. Not letting go of the metal, Sam pulled in his direction so the door itself would open. Lifting his gaze from his fingers, Sam found Dean standing there with a small frown marring his features.
"I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "Just need some water."
Dean nodded. Watching as his brother walked out the room, Sam decided it would be best to follow, albeit at a much more sluggish pace.
As he reached the exit and stepped back into the main part of the diner, Sam was handed a glass. Throwing Dean a smile in thanks, he took a long swig of the icy liquid. Downing about three quarters of it in one go, Sam's body sagged a tiny amount in relief as the parched feeling in his entire being dissipated. It felt magnificent.
Tipping the rest of the water into his mouth and swallowing it back with a satisfied smile, Sam stepped over to their table and placed the now empty glass on it. His food was still sitting there, untouched and mocking him. Although Sam knew that the latter thing was kind of stupid, he couldn't prevent himself from imagining it. His hunger was present, and would be for the rest of the night, but that wasn't too bad. There was no way in Hell he was going to eat anything in the next few hours, so there was no use in feeling sorry for himself.
Glancing at Dean and asking if he'd already paid for everything, Sam headed towards the exit at Dean's answer. Stepping out into the warm air and allowing a wary smile to light up his face, Sam started in the direction of their motel. Grateful that it was only a short walk away, meaning they hadn't needed the Impala - Sam didn't get motion sickness, but being a passenger was something that would not have turned out well had it been required right at this moment - he shoved his hands in his pockets as Dean caught up to him.
"What was that?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged. He had no clue, but he wanted to find out if it had anything to do with what had happened earlier.
-o-
Running from the building had been a mistake. Gabriel had an incline that, prior to the paranoia that had seeped into him the second he'd landed from his flight, he'd already known it would turn out to be one. That hadn't stopped him from leaving, regardless.
What was troubling, was that he'd returned to the location just an hour later, thinking it would somehow remove the revolting feelings running through his form. Finding out that his emotions had not settled upon arrival at the place, nor after spending half an hour there, Gabriel had come to the conclusion that it wasn't the building that was causing him to feel terrible.
That left him at a dead end. Yes, he'd regained some memories, and knew that the device he'd seen lying on the building's floor had been the cause of his unconsciousness, but that didn't help him with his current predicament. With his wings staying unnaturally taut even during flight, with his emotions becoming uncontrollable, and with his Grace practically screaming out for him to get to somewhere in which he didn't actually know the location of, Gabriel was starting to become desperate. He needed to get rid of this feeling. It was vile, and although it wasn't in a literal sense, it still seemed like it was tearing him apart.
Gritting his teeth together, Gabriel understood that flying around aimlessly in the hopes of finding whatever it was he was looking for wasn't exactly productive. Despite knowing this, he couldn't sit down and do nothing. Already he'd lashed out with some of his power for no apparent reason; though he'd been in a field at the time, so no one had got hurt, it was still an extremely dangerous sign. The idea of releasing some force from his Grace in a populated area was beginning to appeal to him, with every passing second, and that would not do. Of course, he'd dealt killings before, but only to those that deserved it. The growing desire currently building within him didn't seem to care if the souls were guilty or not.
He was at a loss as to what to do. Where could he go to get help? Heaven was out, and going on a hunt for one of his older brothers would probably end in disaster. The pagans were off the list, too, since they had no idea about his real identity.
Who did that leave?
Quickly scanning his immediate area, Gabriel located the closest building and landed on it. As his feet touched the solidness of the roof, an unbelievable rage surged through him. Hot and rapid, it pulsed down and past all his defenses - they were the last thing he could rely on when hit with an emotional attack of any kind - before settling in the core of his Grace.
Growling out a yell of frustrated anger, Gabriel focused some of his energy into one of his feet. Waiting for it to develop into something lethal - it took no more than a tenth of a second, by human counting - and revelling a tad at the familiar burn of power, he lifted his leg up slowly, before stomping with abrupt determination. At once, the metal and concrete below him distorted and snapped apart. Listening to the cracking as beams tore from their holdings and walls smashed into millions of minuscule pieces, Gabriel's expression became impassive as the screams that had started quickly began increasing in volume.
He spread his wings out and flapped them idly as the building caved in on itself, so he wouldn't fall along with it. Gabriel noticed a distinct smell of dust begin to filter through the air as he watched the broken pieces of what remained of the building settle into a pile on the ground. Breathing in deeply, he knew that, had he been human, the particles would have made him sneeze.
Eyes roaming over the growing mass of people that had been witness to the building's collapse, Gabriel frowned. There had been humans in the structure he'd just totalled. He could hear some cries now, from those who'd actually managed to survive the initial carnage. Mouth parting slightly, Gabriel found that he couldn't muster up any words.
What in Hell's name had he done?
Lips forming a thin line, Gabriel closed his eyes as the last of his fury faded away. What replaced that emotion was not wanted, yet it came without remorse. He despised shame. It was one of a few emotions that he rarely experienced; each time it turned up, he developed an even greater loathing of it. Worse than fear, guilt or horror, shame couldn't be edited or removed by distraction. It was a constant, and one that would stay within him for far too long.
Cursing the fact that he couldn't undo the damage that he'd done, for it would at least lessen what he was feeling, Gabriel opened his eyes once more to do a quick sweep of the mess he had created. Three dozen lives had been taken - not because of mercy or motive, but because they had been there and in the way of his outburst - and from what he could determine, at least four or five more people would die before any medical help even reached the area.
Knowing he couldn't do anything to put this right without drawing unwanted attention from his brothers, Gabriel closed his eyes. The scornful smile that made its way onto his face was completely involuntary. Immoral didn't even begin to describe how cruel this situation was.
Hesitating for a moment as he tried to block off the sound of peoples' wails, Gabriel knew that there was only one thing he could do to try and stop some of the pain the people were suffering. Though it was harsh, it would be for the best.
Lifting an arm, he snapped his fingers, and every survivor trapped in the rubble died.
Unable to stay any longer, Gabriel turned around and began heading to any place that wasn't there. He didn't know what he could possibly do to put this right. Even though the destroyed building could be pinpointed to faulty design plans, the fact was, if he continued in this pattern, he'd undoubtedly gain the attention of his brothers despite his best efforts. They would recognise him using his powers eventually, and he wasn't sure what they'd do if they found him.
Understanding that neither Michael, Lucifer or Raphael had done anything when they'd all been tricked to the location of the device wasn't enough to put his mind at rest. The circumstances had been different, and there had been an unknown object involved that could somehow hurt archangels. It wasn't too hard to come to the conclusion that his brothers had simply done a runner between him touching the thing, and him waking up. For what reason, he didn't know, but he wasn't willing to put his life on the line to get any answers from them.
Holding back on the shout that wanted to escape his throat, Gabriel halted his flight and once again found himself perching on a rooftop. This time, he made sure there were no occupants within it first, before landing safely on its surface. He did not want a repeat performance of the last few minutes.
Gabriel sighed. The night was cool and there were only a couple of clouds in the sky. He paid little attention to that, though. Walking over to the edge of the roof, he peered down at the gloomy streets below. The late hour meant that the roads were empty, save for the parked cars.
Body going still as he glanced upon one of the cars in particular, Gabriel was hit with a rather strange epiphany. They owed him nothing and would probably deny any requests he made, but that didn't matter. It was an option; one that couldn't get him killed on the spot. Smiling slightly, Gabriel relaxed as he sat down. He understood that waiting until morning was not a good idea, considering his emotions. But, staring down at the car, Gabriel noticed that his aggravation had actually begun settling down a touch. Was that a good thing, or should he take it as a warning?
In all honesty, Gabriel didn't care, because the Impala was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all day, and he was not moving until he knew the Winchesters had woken up.
To Be Continued
-o-