Gabriel appeared out of nowhere, as per his usual, but the oddest part about his appearance was the expression on his face: confusion, curiosity, but mostly just the utter cluelessness that he exuded from the situation. Like he not only didn't know what he was doing, but where (or when) he was doing it. Like this was all new to him, or maybe like he didn't quite know or understand what he'd managed to do.
He spotted Dean and immediately brightened up with a smile. "So I did find you!" Except...as soon as Gabriel said that he realized something was off, and frowned thoughtfully. He seemed to peer deeply into Dean's essence to search for what he was looking for. What he found surprised him. "Well that backfired... I really can't find you with those sigils on."
Dean's words spoke hidden volumes of the truth whether intended to or not. Gabriel could easily hear the implied meaning behind them without resorting to any sort of power abusing, it just wasn't necessary in the way Dean acted with those few simple words surrounding him. The mood was palpable. And for once the Trickster had no clue how to lighten it.
"...I'm sorry," he finally said into the deadening silence. He knew it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
"You and everyone else, pal," it was the cold retreat. He was used to this, closing himself off from everyone and everything but it was better this way. If he never got attached then he had nothing else to loose.
Suddenly he craved for another glass of whiskey, but deep inside he felt like he didn't deserve it and with company if would obviously just come off as a method of coping, so he avoided it, going back to his guns once again.
Gabe snapped his fingers and suddenly Dean's glass was full again with whiskey. "Cope all you want, it isn't pretty," Gabriel said in what could have been a bland sympathetic tone. If anyone could understand it was Gabriel. After all, it was his douche of a brother wearing the younger Winchester and yet he still loved the Devil despite what he'd become. But he wished it didn't have to be this way. "Who am I going to tell anyway?"
"I don't know, maybe one of your douchey angel friends," he mumbled, ignoring the fact that his glass was now full, "How am I supposed to know?" The man was initially playing the role of a trickster after all. It wasn't until near the end of his run that Dean realized Gabriel was far from that. Dressing up like a god in one corner, an angel in the other.
He ran a cloth over the freshly assembled gun and set it down before moving to the next one.
"I don't have any angelic friends, Dean," the archangel said and there was something about the off-put way he said it that told more about how truthful he was being than anything else in the universe could have made it appear. It was just too honest. It was too hurt, dejected even.
Running away from home wasn't what it was all cracked up to be. Gabriel had learned that the hard way. And yet he knew he couldn't have done it, nor would ever, any other way.
"Again," he chortled bitterly, "How am I supposed to know? As I recall, you and I weren't exactly buddies." He took the gun apart piece by piece, placing it down on the table then started to clean each with a delicate hand.
He didn't noticed the pain in Gabriel's posture or voice, he didn't want to notice it. That way he could just keep on avoiding it. It was something he only got better at with more practice.
Gabriel bristled and it was all he could do to keep himself from slapping Dean in the face with one of his wings. "You were the one who so 'kindly' pointed out that I couldn't face my family. All angels are my family, Dean, so I guess that begs to question how I'd manage to call even one of them 'friend' when I can't even force myself to go near one. I even avoided fallen angels like the Egyptian plagues before you showed up." Castiel had been the first angel Gabriel had seen in a long time. He had pretended it meant nothing to send him away and degrade him the way he had at the time. But later it had settled in his Grace like a permanent itch, a tick of guilt that ate at his not-quite-soul.
The archangel was getting genuinely irritated. There was something else he had thought to ask while he was still here and yet he kept getting sidetracked by this argument. It was pointless and childish but the Trickster just couldn't help himself. He was drawn to jerks for a reason: to punish them. Only problem was, he didn't want to punish Dean.
"Oh, so now it's a matter of common sense, right? Well, forgive me. It's kind of been awhile and I more important things to focus on rather than reflect on the good old days," his eyes hardened. He didn't want to think about it so why did he have to keep bringing it up? The more Gabriel talked, it seemed as if he was being forced to think back on the past, on how things had been and on Sam.
He bit his bottom lip in frustration but continued his diligent work, keeping his mind from getting too far into the whole matter.
"Yeah... good ol' days," Gabriel repeated lamely, unimpressed and so not feeling the 'good' part in those days. He slumped and glared at nothing in particular though it looked like the table in front of them. He reached out and took Dean's glass, throwing his head back and downing the whole thing in one go. He set the glass back down on the table and his fingers lingered on the rim awhile.
"Look, you've got problems, we've all got problems. But this? This isn't doing anybody any good, least of all..." he trailed off. What was the point? Besides, he'd given up the right to guide and lecture humans a long time ago.
Dean was prepared to bark back his reasons because he had plenty. He had become a champion at winning the wrong arguments because for him, their was just no other way. If he gave into his emotions and sat down to figure them out, then the next day he'd probably have a loaded pistol inside his mouth. The longer he ignored them, the longer he could deal with how fucked up this situation was.
"He's coping," he couldn't give a good or a bad on that because he wasn't either. Dean knew Cas and knew how he had changed but somehow in that he refused to believe they had changed overall.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation, thoroughly frustrated at the lack of response from Dean. Now this was like talking to a brick wall. Literally. In fact, he could probably get more information out of a brick wall than this guy.
Refilling the drink and taking another swig, Gabriel leveled a stare at Dean. "That's it? 'He's coping'? And I can see how well you're doing that! Don't you think his big brother would like maybe just a liiiittle bit more info than that? Well I would!"
At this point? Most likely. The hunter had become colder than an iceberg and was harder than a rock. Picking had him would take a great deal of effort and time but that statement there caused the angel to get a sharp response. Obviously he had hit a few of the right nerves. His hand slammed down on the table.
"And it's my job to tell you how he is? Go see him for yourself if it's such a big concern of yours! There's nothing like a little family reunion to lift the spirits around here, believe me when I say that."
Though he made no outwardly visible reactions, Gabriel did duck his wings in tightly at those words spoken to him. Cowering, one might call it. But on the outside he just glared at Dean with an annoyed gaze.
"I just asked. A head's up isn't so bad. You mentioned something earlier that caught my attention--I wanted an explanation. But you're not into explaining things these days. I'd ask what the hell happened to you but it'd be a moot point. I hope you feel proud; I know Sam wouldn't."
It didn't matter what Sam would have felt about this any more. Things had changed too much for it to matter any more. They couldn't rely on their usual morals or methods. Those didn't work any more so he had to reinvent himself and those things.
"Make me," he replied automatically, knowing full well the human could do no such thing. He met Dean's eyes and stared unblinkingly into them with the fierceness born of an unnatural being.
He spotted Dean and immediately brightened up with a smile. "So I did find you!" Except...as soon as Gabriel said that he realized something was off, and frowned thoughtfully. He seemed to peer deeply into Dean's essence to search for what he was looking for. What he found surprised him. "Well that backfired... I really can't find you with those sigils on."
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Dean's words spoke hidden volumes of the truth whether intended to or not. Gabriel could easily hear the implied meaning behind them without resorting to any sort of power abusing, it just wasn't necessary in the way Dean acted with those few simple words surrounding him. The mood was palpable. And for once the Trickster had no clue how to lighten it.
"...I'm sorry," he finally said into the deadening silence. He knew it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
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Suddenly he craved for another glass of whiskey, but deep inside he felt like he didn't deserve it and with company if would obviously just come off as a method of coping, so he avoided it, going back to his guns once again.
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He ran a cloth over the freshly assembled gun and set it down before moving to the next one.
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Running away from home wasn't what it was all cracked up to be. Gabriel had learned that the hard way. And yet he knew he couldn't have done it, nor would ever, any other way.
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He didn't noticed the pain in Gabriel's posture or voice, he didn't want to notice it. That way he could just keep on avoiding it. It was something he only got better at with more practice.
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The archangel was getting genuinely irritated. There was something else he had thought to ask while he was still here and yet he kept getting sidetracked by this argument. It was pointless and childish but the Trickster just couldn't help himself. He was drawn to jerks for a reason: to punish them. Only problem was, he didn't want to punish Dean.
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He bit his bottom lip in frustration but continued his diligent work, keeping his mind from getting too far into the whole matter.
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"Look, you've got problems, we've all got problems. But this? This isn't doing anybody any good, least of all..." he trailed off. What was the point? Besides, he'd given up the right to guide and lecture humans a long time ago.
"You mentioned Castiel. How's he?"
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"He's coping," he couldn't give a good or a bad on that because he wasn't either. Dean knew Cas and knew how he had changed but somehow in that he refused to believe they had changed overall.
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Refilling the drink and taking another swig, Gabriel leveled a stare at Dean. "That's it? 'He's coping'? And I can see how well you're doing that! Don't you think his big brother would like maybe just a liiiittle bit more info than that? Well I would!"
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"And it's my job to tell you how he is? Go see him for yourself if it's such a big concern of yours! There's nothing like a little family reunion to lift the spirits around here, believe me when I say that."
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"I just asked. A head's up isn't so bad. You mentioned something earlier that caught my attention--I wanted an explanation. But you're not into explaining things these days. I'd ask what the hell happened to you but it'd be a moot point. I hope you feel proud; I know Sam wouldn't."
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It didn't matter what Sam would have felt about this any more. Things had changed too much for it to matter any more. They couldn't rely on their usual morals or methods. Those didn't work any more so he had to reinvent himself and those things.
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