Fic: Superman Tonight...
Title: Superman Tonight (3/?)
Author: lonelyphoenix85
Rating: R, for a few foul words, and more sure to come in subsequent parts.
Genre: Songfic, Pre-slash, h/c
Pairing:Sam/Gabriel pre-slash, implied Dean/Cas
Spoilers: through to Changing Channels (5x08)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1698 (this part, 4551 total so far)
Disclaimer: It only belongs to me when I'm dreaming! Bon Jovi owns the song, and the rest is property of the almighty Kripke!
Notes: My first SPN fic (and therefore also my first attempt at anything even vaguely resembling Sam/Gabriel) - My writing doesn't always live up to my ideas, could use a beta if anyone's interested?
I don't know about everyone else, but I think we should try and get Gabriel back for S6 - I made a joking comment about starting a petition, only to be told by darkamber that there already is one here: Save Gabriel Petition
I popped straight over to sign it, and now I'm posting this in case anyone else here hasn't seen it yet *grins*
Previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Summary: Gabriel deals with the aftermath of Sam's explosion...
Who’s going to save you
When the stars fall from your sky?
And who’s going to pull you in
When the tide gets too high?
Who’s going to hold you
When you turn out the lights?
I won’t lie, I wish that I
Could be your superman tonight.
This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? Sammy had opened up to him, just as he’d demanded. But Father! How could he help him? He was a big part of the problem, bigger than he’d even realised, because he was a big, flashing, neon in-your-face reminder to Sam that the Angels had betrayed everything Sam had ever believed in. The only Angel worth a shit that he’d met was Castiel, who was slowly falling for the crime of deciding to help them.
How on earth had he not given up? More importantly, why?! To be resisting Lucifer’s temptations when all he had in the world was a broken brother, crippled father-figure, and falling angel, none of whom even trusted him anymore...
Gabriel felt a swell of emotion deep within, a sense of wonder at the broken man before him. The will he had, the sheer determination, it was awe-inspiring.
He reached out slowly with one hand, careful not to spook Sam as he laid his fingers lightly upon his arm. He had no illusions - he was still ‘the enemy’, he knew that - but he wanted, no, needed to try and offer some measure of comfort. He could feel his long buried Grace straining at the edges of the bindings he’d hidden it beneath all these years, practically begging to be allowed to reach out to the hunter who stood so close. Angels were made for love, designed for it - first to love their Father, and then his creations. After suppressing such instincts for so long he’d thought himself no longer capable, but now he knew just how wrong he’d been. The urge to wrap his Grace around Sam’s torn and battered soul, to comfort, to provide relief to one in so much pain, and so in need of love, was almost over-whelming.
He tightened his hold on his Grace - he refused to do anything to startle Sammy, not now - and waited for his light touch on Sam’s arm to register. After a few seconds Sam’s face slowly raised, his eyes coming up to meet Gabriel’s. Softly, he spoke.
“Sam,” not Sammy, he wanted to make it clear how seriously he meant this, “let me try to help, please?”
A sob wrenched itself free from Sam’s throat, and Gabriel reached out with his other arm, using his grip on Sam’s sleeves to pull him carefully to sit on the bed. He sat down slowly next to him, and pulled the shaking form into a cautious hug. Tears quickly soaked through the shoulder of his shirt as he rubbed what he hoped were soothing patterns on Sam’s back.
This had been a long time coming, he knew. He also knew that it wasn’t going to be as simple as have a quick cry, all’s better now, either. This whole mess had been years in the making, and it would take much more than one shouting match with an aggravating Archangel to clean it up. He wished so badly that he could just snap his fingers and make it all better, was sure he’d never wished for anything quite so hard. And maybe that was part of his problem, he realised suddenly.
His knee-jerk reaction was to wish he could do it - that wasn’t right. And this was something he could fix, straight away.
And so, as he sat there comforting Sam, muttering soothing platitudes softly to the young hunter, Gabriel prayed to his Father for the first time in over a millennia. He prayed with every fibre of his being, letting his Grace unfurl slightly to add power to his prayers, and then softly began wrapping small tendrils of it around Sam, patching the worst of the tears in his soul - still so bright, in spite of the damage it had suffered - with pieces of his Grace.
He felt when Sam drifted off to sleep, and moved carefully to lay the hunter down on the bed. Snapping his fingers moved the covers from beneath Sam, laying them carefully to cover him, and Gabriel snapped up an easy chair beside the bed, relaxing into it to watch the taller man sleep.
*~*~*~*~*
Sam sank into the large cushioned chair, drawing his legs up underneath him tightly. He reached for the book on the small table to his left, and settled back comfortably, opening it to the first page.
He knew he was dreaming - recognised his cabin, not that he’d spent much time there recently. He ignored the nagging feeling just out of reach, that feeling he got when he couldn’t quite remember if he’d forgotten something important or not. He wasn’t sure why Lucifer was giving him these few minutes of peace before the whisperings and offers started, but he fully intended to make the most of them.
Sam was about halfway through his book (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - one of a handful of books he knew well enough to bring in here), when it occurred to him that not only had Lucifer still not put in an appearance, but he’d also been asleep for much longer than was his norm these days. Suddenly that elusive thought from earlier seemed more important. Nothing ever changed for the better where the Winchesters were concerned - he needed to figure out if this was some new game Lucifer was playing, although he couldn’t quite see the advantage to be gained by letting him get some restful sleep for a change, unless he meant to lull him into a false sense of security, or let him heal a little so he could start breaking him from scratch again perhaps?
So involved was he in his thoughts, that the sudden knock at the cabin door had him reacting instinctively, jumping up with arm raised, weapon (in this case a smartly bound hardback classic) aimed at the door. Chuckling softly at his over-reaction, Sam lowered the book. The chuckle quickly trailed off into a sigh as he realised that he’d been counting chickens that were never going to hatch - of course Lucifer wasn’t really going to leave him in peace. Although, knocking the door was a new approach. Usually he’d just whisk Sam out of the cabin and dump him in the middle of his latest manipulation. He spared a second to think that maybe he preferred that - it kept his cabin a sort of sanctuary when he could get there, something Lucifer hadn’t touched.
Another knock brought him out of his thoughts, and with a bone-weary sigh he walked towards the door, knowing all too well that ignoring him would only piss him off, and then he was just as likely to try torture as temptation.
He turned the handle, opened the heavy wooden door, and gaped in confusion at what was before him.
“Heya Sammy, you miss me?” Gabriel grinned, brushing past the taller man, snapping up a bowl of Rainbow Drops and sinking into the chair to the side of the one Sam had been occupying. “Don’t just stand there, shut the door! You might want to lock-up too, wouldn’t want any invited visitors, would we?”
“Don’t you mean any more uninvited visitors Gabriel? Because I sure as hell don’t remember asking you to take a stroll through my head!” Despite arguing Sam found himself doing as the Archangel requested and locking the door, even going as far as sliding the newly imagined deadbolt across.
“Aw Sammy, you wound me! If I were anyone else I might think you weren’t happy to see me.” The smirk was bad enough, in Sam’s opinion. The wink that accompanied it, now that was just a little too much. Sam knew he should be royally pissed that Gabriel had decided to take an unauthorised trip into his dreams, and yet he couldn’t help but draw a connection between Gabriel’s presence and Lucifer’s absence.
Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do to have Gabriel thinking he could go about taking liberties with his privacy, so questions could wait a minute.
“Just so we’re perfectly clear, it’s generally considered rude to go wandering around in other people’s dreams without their permission.”
“Asking for permission wasn’t really an option today Sammy-boy. I know your memory’s probably a little fuzzy right now, but when you wake up I’m sure I’ll be forgiven for trespassing on private property, so I’m not going to sweat it, and you might as well save your breath for more important things, like the question you were about to ask?”
“Stay out of my head really truly has no meaning to you, does it?” Sam threw his hands in the air in annoyance, and walked over to drop back into his chair, placing the book carefully back on the table. Sam took a deep breath and continued.
“Did you do something? To keep Lucifer out of my head I mean?”
“Yes.” Well, that was illuminating, Sam thought snarkily.
“Any chance you could elaborate on the how? Or the why? Especially the why. What game are you playing?”
“The kind neither of us can afford to lose Sammy. You’re going to have to wake up soon, I’m sorry. I held him off for a while, and sent him the long way around when he got in, but Luci’s nearly here, and that door won’t hold him for long. I know you won’t believe me when I say I’m trying to help, so how about we finish this conversation when you wake up, so that you’re not memory impaired, hmm?”
With that Gabriel winked out of existence. Sam barely had time to consider what he’d said, or try to decipher the sad, piercing look - so at odds with his habitual grin - in his eyes as he’d spoken, before the room started fading, and Sam realised that he was waking up. The last thing he felt before the dream dissolved completely was an aura of malice coming from behind the bolted cabin door.
Next Chapter: Chapter 4
Author: lonelyphoenix85
Rating: R, for a few foul words, and more sure to come in subsequent parts.
Genre: Songfic, Pre-slash, h/c
Pairing:Sam/Gabriel pre-slash, implied Dean/Cas
Spoilers: through to Changing Channels (5x08)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1698 (this part, 4551 total so far)
Disclaimer: It only belongs to me when I'm dreaming! Bon Jovi owns the song, and the rest is property of the almighty Kripke!
Notes: My first SPN fic (and therefore also my first attempt at anything even vaguely resembling Sam/Gabriel) - My writing doesn't always live up to my ideas, could use a beta if anyone's interested?
I don't know about everyone else, but I think we should try and get Gabriel back for S6 - I made a joking comment about starting a petition, only to be told by darkamber that there already is one here: Save Gabriel Petition
I popped straight over to sign it, and now I'm posting this in case anyone else here hasn't seen it yet *grins*
Previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Summary: Gabriel deals with the aftermath of Sam's explosion...
Who’s going to save you
When the stars fall from your sky?
And who’s going to pull you in
When the tide gets too high?
Who’s going to hold you
When you turn out the lights?
I won’t lie, I wish that I
Could be your superman tonight.
This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? Sammy had opened up to him, just as he’d demanded. But Father! How could he help him? He was a big part of the problem, bigger than he’d even realised, because he was a big, flashing, neon in-your-face reminder to Sam that the Angels had betrayed everything Sam had ever believed in. The only Angel worth a shit that he’d met was Castiel, who was slowly falling for the crime of deciding to help them.
How on earth had he not given up? More importantly, why?! To be resisting Lucifer’s temptations when all he had in the world was a broken brother, crippled father-figure, and falling angel, none of whom even trusted him anymore...
Gabriel felt a swell of emotion deep within, a sense of wonder at the broken man before him. The will he had, the sheer determination, it was awe-inspiring.
He reached out slowly with one hand, careful not to spook Sam as he laid his fingers lightly upon his arm. He had no illusions - he was still ‘the enemy’, he knew that - but he wanted, no, needed to try and offer some measure of comfort. He could feel his long buried Grace straining at the edges of the bindings he’d hidden it beneath all these years, practically begging to be allowed to reach out to the hunter who stood so close. Angels were made for love, designed for it - first to love their Father, and then his creations. After suppressing such instincts for so long he’d thought himself no longer capable, but now he knew just how wrong he’d been. The urge to wrap his Grace around Sam’s torn and battered soul, to comfort, to provide relief to one in so much pain, and so in need of love, was almost over-whelming.
He tightened his hold on his Grace - he refused to do anything to startle Sammy, not now - and waited for his light touch on Sam’s arm to register. After a few seconds Sam’s face slowly raised, his eyes coming up to meet Gabriel’s. Softly, he spoke.
“Sam,” not Sammy, he wanted to make it clear how seriously he meant this, “let me try to help, please?”
A sob wrenched itself free from Sam’s throat, and Gabriel reached out with his other arm, using his grip on Sam’s sleeves to pull him carefully to sit on the bed. He sat down slowly next to him, and pulled the shaking form into a cautious hug. Tears quickly soaked through the shoulder of his shirt as he rubbed what he hoped were soothing patterns on Sam’s back.
This had been a long time coming, he knew. He also knew that it wasn’t going to be as simple as have a quick cry, all’s better now, either. This whole mess had been years in the making, and it would take much more than one shouting match with an aggravating Archangel to clean it up. He wished so badly that he could just snap his fingers and make it all better, was sure he’d never wished for anything quite so hard. And maybe that was part of his problem, he realised suddenly.
His knee-jerk reaction was to wish he could do it - that wasn’t right. And this was something he could fix, straight away.
And so, as he sat there comforting Sam, muttering soothing platitudes softly to the young hunter, Gabriel prayed to his Father for the first time in over a millennia. He prayed with every fibre of his being, letting his Grace unfurl slightly to add power to his prayers, and then softly began wrapping small tendrils of it around Sam, patching the worst of the tears in his soul - still so bright, in spite of the damage it had suffered - with pieces of his Grace.
He felt when Sam drifted off to sleep, and moved carefully to lay the hunter down on the bed. Snapping his fingers moved the covers from beneath Sam, laying them carefully to cover him, and Gabriel snapped up an easy chair beside the bed, relaxing into it to watch the taller man sleep.
*~*~*~*~*
Sam sank into the large cushioned chair, drawing his legs up underneath him tightly. He reached for the book on the small table to his left, and settled back comfortably, opening it to the first page.
He knew he was dreaming - recognised his cabin, not that he’d spent much time there recently. He ignored the nagging feeling just out of reach, that feeling he got when he couldn’t quite remember if he’d forgotten something important or not. He wasn’t sure why Lucifer was giving him these few minutes of peace before the whisperings and offers started, but he fully intended to make the most of them.
Sam was about halfway through his book (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - one of a handful of books he knew well enough to bring in here), when it occurred to him that not only had Lucifer still not put in an appearance, but he’d also been asleep for much longer than was his norm these days. Suddenly that elusive thought from earlier seemed more important. Nothing ever changed for the better where the Winchesters were concerned - he needed to figure out if this was some new game Lucifer was playing, although he couldn’t quite see the advantage to be gained by letting him get some restful sleep for a change, unless he meant to lull him into a false sense of security, or let him heal a little so he could start breaking him from scratch again perhaps?
So involved was he in his thoughts, that the sudden knock at the cabin door had him reacting instinctively, jumping up with arm raised, weapon (in this case a smartly bound hardback classic) aimed at the door. Chuckling softly at his over-reaction, Sam lowered the book. The chuckle quickly trailed off into a sigh as he realised that he’d been counting chickens that were never going to hatch - of course Lucifer wasn’t really going to leave him in peace. Although, knocking the door was a new approach. Usually he’d just whisk Sam out of the cabin and dump him in the middle of his latest manipulation. He spared a second to think that maybe he preferred that - it kept his cabin a sort of sanctuary when he could get there, something Lucifer hadn’t touched.
Another knock brought him out of his thoughts, and with a bone-weary sigh he walked towards the door, knowing all too well that ignoring him would only piss him off, and then he was just as likely to try torture as temptation.
He turned the handle, opened the heavy wooden door, and gaped in confusion at what was before him.
“Heya Sammy, you miss me?” Gabriel grinned, brushing past the taller man, snapping up a bowl of Rainbow Drops and sinking into the chair to the side of the one Sam had been occupying. “Don’t just stand there, shut the door! You might want to lock-up too, wouldn’t want any invited visitors, would we?”
“Don’t you mean any more uninvited visitors Gabriel? Because I sure as hell don’t remember asking you to take a stroll through my head!” Despite arguing Sam found himself doing as the Archangel requested and locking the door, even going as far as sliding the newly imagined deadbolt across.
“Aw Sammy, you wound me! If I were anyone else I might think you weren’t happy to see me.” The smirk was bad enough, in Sam’s opinion. The wink that accompanied it, now that was just a little too much. Sam knew he should be royally pissed that Gabriel had decided to take an unauthorised trip into his dreams, and yet he couldn’t help but draw a connection between Gabriel’s presence and Lucifer’s absence.
Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do to have Gabriel thinking he could go about taking liberties with his privacy, so questions could wait a minute.
“Just so we’re perfectly clear, it’s generally considered rude to go wandering around in other people’s dreams without their permission.”
“Asking for permission wasn’t really an option today Sammy-boy. I know your memory’s probably a little fuzzy right now, but when you wake up I’m sure I’ll be forgiven for trespassing on private property, so I’m not going to sweat it, and you might as well save your breath for more important things, like the question you were about to ask?”
“Stay out of my head really truly has no meaning to you, does it?” Sam threw his hands in the air in annoyance, and walked over to drop back into his chair, placing the book carefully back on the table. Sam took a deep breath and continued.
“Did you do something? To keep Lucifer out of my head I mean?”
“Yes.” Well, that was illuminating, Sam thought snarkily.
“Any chance you could elaborate on the how? Or the why? Especially the why. What game are you playing?”
“The kind neither of us can afford to lose Sammy. You’re going to have to wake up soon, I’m sorry. I held him off for a while, and sent him the long way around when he got in, but Luci’s nearly here, and that door won’t hold him for long. I know you won’t believe me when I say I’m trying to help, so how about we finish this conversation when you wake up, so that you’re not memory impaired, hmm?”
With that Gabriel winked out of existence. Sam barely had time to consider what he’d said, or try to decipher the sad, piercing look - so at odds with his habitual grin - in his eyes as he’d spoken, before the room started fading, and Sam realised that he was waking up. The last thing he felt before the dream dissolved completely was an aura of malice coming from behind the bolted cabin door.
Next Chapter: Chapter 4