Fic: Why should I trust you? 26/? [PG-13]
Title: Why should I trust you? 26/?
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Cas
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x08
Warnings: Swearing.
Word Count: 3,196
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Sam has questions and they're not exactly the ones Gabriel was expecting.
Notes: Follows on from Part Twenty-Five
He looks exhausted, smudges of darkness under eyes that have stopped glowing gold. Gabriel’s been avoiding them all afternoon. Hiding out in Sam’s make-shift bedroom. Reclining back on the pettable leather couch and watching his standard, oversized TV on the wall. It’s hard to believe he’s an Archangel when he’s listless, barely lifting a finger to change the channel via the remote. No clicking his fingers, no absent hand waving or barely pointing the remote in the direction of the television, while it miraculously changes the station anyway.
Gabriel might be exhausted but he’s not the only one. Sam’s pausing in the doorway to look down and wonder where he’s going to sit because Gabriel’s sprawled all over the couch. Jean clad legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankle. But he needs to sit and soon. Just the trip from the study to here has tired him out. Again. Just a short walk after the long day, now all he wants is his bed. Bed and quiet, to not have to listen to Dean bitching at him. Not that Dean doesn’t have a point. Gabriel is keeping secrets from them, not a big surprise, it’s not like they expected him to just explain everything.
Maybe Dean’s forgotten who he’s dealing with, then again, maybe not. Maybe that’s the problem. Dean hasn’t forgotten anything. Doesn’t have forgive and forget in his personal lexicon. Which reminds him so much of his Dad it’s almost painful.
Gabriel continues to ignore him, or at least pretend to ignore him, as he yawns and shuffles across the room. This overtired exhaustion thing, he’s over it. They need to get back out there, back on the road, hunting. So many people are dying while they just sit here, recovering. Recovery that they both needed, was necessary but so much time wasted. So many more people dead because they weren’t out there saving people. Were sitting around planning the next hunt instead of actually hunting.
By the time he starts to sink down into the couch Gabriel’s legs have moved, slid out of the way, one sliding completely off the leather and over the side, trailing one socked foot across the floor. Trailing stark white against clean beige carpet, clean because he vacuumed it yesterday for Bobby. The smallest token of appreciation and something to do. Something to stop him going insane from all the sitting, researching; frustrating, tiresome waiting to regain strength. The other foot slides up, bent knee resting against the leather back. Just enough space for him to sink into the soft, perfect cushioning without Gabriel’s foot touching his hip.
Gabriel who still isn’t acknowledging his presence. Hasn’t even looked his way, who might simply ignore him and stay here all night. All night, silent groan. His eyes are already sinking shut, closing before he wants them to. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Gabriel, because he does. He knows Gabriel won’t hurt him, soft snort, Gabriel’s the one who’s least likely to hurt him these days. Must be a sign of the Apocalypse. Breath catching slightly. Cursing softly inside his own head. Real funny Sam, real amusing.
Letting his head fall back as he tries to ignore his own stupidity, body already sinking further into the leather. At this rate it’s going to take something major to get him up again, he’s tired, muscles weak and heavy with exhaustion. Heart slipping into a slow rhythm, breath already evening out.
Gabriel shifts slightly and the channel changes again. Obnoxious laugh track replaced with deep funky bass under familiar jazz music. Lips already twitching in amusement, why is he not surprised that Gabriel stopped here? Gabriel doesn’t need new and interesting ways to fuck with people, but apparently he likes to watch people fucking with other people. God, mental groan, he’s probably learning too. But at least he’s moved on from trashy tabloid magazines as a source of ideas. Twisted ideas on how to mess with people, hand out just deserts. At least if he’s using con-man inspiration, there’s less chance of chewed up or torn apart bodies when he’s done.
It’s easy to get lost in the background noise, sink further into the couch even if he is sitting upright, not like he hasn’t fallen asleep in the Impala that way. Falling asleep sitting upright is almost as common as falling asleep laying down these days. And the couch is soft and warm and...moving? Forcing his eyes open, mere slits to see that Gabriel has turned the overhead lights off. The remaining illumination is filtering through the room from the TV and he’s turned the sound off. Plunging the room into silence as well. Gabriel is sitting under the window in a new armchair when his eyes slide closed. Armchair that’s a perfect match for the oversized couch he created.
It takes a moment or two to realise he can lay down now, lay down and slide into blissful sleep. Except for the fact Gabriel is sitting less than three feet away. Cracking his eyes open again to notice the angel’s just staring at a silent television. Staring but not watching, eyes barely shifting, hardly a flicker. Hazel dull and almost lifeless.
“Gabriel?”
Word out of his mouth without thinking, sitting up straighter, leaning forward slightly, limp hands sliding over his thighs. He’s tired, so tired and yet moving without stopping to consider what he’s doing, what he’s asking. Or maybe that’s why he can move without thought. Ask...What is he asking?
Gabriel’s eyes slide across to stare at him before sliding away again. Barely a flicker acknowledging that Sam’s shifted closer, moved towards him slightly, spoken his name. The angel’s eyelashes slide closed a moment, hiding dipped hazel, then slowly open again. He looks so tired, like he needs to rest, but does he even sleep? Cas doesn’t sleep so it’s unlikely an Archangel would, and yet he looks like he needs to. Looks like he’s mere seconds away from closing his eyes, drifting off into deep, exhausted sleep.
“Are you okay?” He can’t help the question. Gabriel is, he’s helping, has helped.
Dean would...Does he really care what Dean would think right now? He’s not here, he’s not going to know, and Gabriel, Gabriel is staring at him, eyes slightly wider, almost shock. Shock and then a blink later twisted amusement.
“Awww Sammy, I’m so touched that you care.” Drawling mockery.
And his teeth are instantly on edge, reminded of Castiel’s deliberate brush off earlier. He’s asking, he’s actually wasting time worrying about the bastard of an Archangel and... He’s worrying about Gabriel. He...shying away from that thought. It’s Gabriel, he’s helped, is helping him. Has saved him, it’s just...just a reflex. Gabriel has been around so much lately. Has helped him a lot lately.
“You look like shit.” Sniping back, only the slightest tremor. It’s perfectly logical, even if it’s disturbing and dangerous and wrong. They can’t trust Gabriel. He can’t trust Gabriel. He just can’t.
Gabriel tortured him for months, fucking months, killed Dean over and over in front of him. Took him away for six whole months, left him dead til he killed Bobby. He was so sure it was the Trickster, so sure and yet it looked just like Bobby, talked like Bobby. Could have been Bobby and he didn’t care. All he cared about was revenge, getting Dean back. Anything to get Dean back. And that was Gabriel. The same asshole who locked him and Dean inside TV Land. Turned him into a damn car! And that’s not including the mechanical kick in the balls he decided to give him.
And yet the angel has saved his life more than once, saved him from Lucifer. But Ruby saved his life too. Saved his life more than a few times. Stopped him drinking when Dean...Hell Hounds ripped him...but in the end Ruby delivered him to Lucifer. And Ruby did a hell of a lot more than keep him grounded every time a twisting, sliding, falling feeling kicked in. A lot more than make sure he had a comfortable place to sleep at Bobby’s. A lot more physical things that meant a hell of a lot less, remembering how his skin crawled the first time he fucked her.
Ruby also didn’t put herself in front of Bobby with a rifle, knowing full well that Bobby couldn’t stand her.
Rifle he still has questions about.
“Could the rifle have hurt you?” Watching Gabriel’s brow furrow in confused shock then moving into amusement.
“I think you have your priorities skewed here kiddo.” Mocking smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Frustration rolling in again.
“Right, because wanting to know if you could have been killed? That’s a skewed priority.”
Gabriel’s amusement fades into something far less trivial, eyes narrowing.
“Depends on what you’re thinking there tiger.” Words, tone flippant but eyes locked on his, watching, waiting, staring. And if he thought Gabriel could read his mind he’d be worried from the intensity of the stare.
“Could it kill you?” And more importantly. “Could Bobby use it to kill Lucifer?”
Demanding, watching as Gabriel’s lips twist into a thin line of something, something he’s not sure about. Not sure why Gabriel’s gone from amused at him asking if he’s alright, to anger? Annoyance? Disappointment? Just from him asking if the rifle can be used to hurt Lucifer?
They need something against Lucifer. Something, some way to defend themselves because they can only avoid him, hide for so long.
Lucifer is sure they’ll meet in a few months. Not that long from now, weeks, months racing by and he has to, needs something to ensure he doesn’t...He won’t. Knows he won’t. But it would be better to have an insurance policy. Something they could use against him. Even if it can’t kill him, anything to keep him at bay, anything is better than nothing. God, he’ll take anything over nothing right now.
“I don’t know.” Voice soft, dropped low and sincere. Eyes, line of his mouth softer, apologetic.
Tearing his eyes away to stare at the door, closed door, anything but meet Gabriel’s eyes. Genuine eyes, fuck! And he believes him, trusts that he’s telling the truth. Gabriel doesn’t know if it could. And the only way they could test it, know for sure, daring a glance back...and he can’t do it. Won’t do it. Could...Dean would, but he can’t. Fuck. They need Gabriel, he needs Gabriel. Cas could do the sigil, sigil which needs redoing, but...Lucifer would find him sooner. Sooner and they have no fucking plan for when that happens. Not if, definitely when. Rubbing fingers into dry, grainy eyes.
They’re not prepared, not even close to it. They’re just running, hiding, hoping. Which is only going to last so long. They have to think of something, come up with a plan. He can’t face Lucifer again without some...and suddenly something occurs to him. The sigil, the blood sigil, Cas did the first one and it lasted a few days, then Gabriel did it and it lasted just over a week, stopped working this morning, catching glimpses of that washed out, horribly familiar room, shadowy figure waiting. Biding his time and now...now he has to...Heart starting to race.
He’s not a coward. He’s faced monsters, angels, demons, vengeful spirits but Lucifer... it’s Lucifer and last time they met he almost cut out his soul.
...holding onto the window frame, looking back into the room and staring right up into Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer who’s suddenly so much closer, too close. Standing just on the other side of the window now. Standing so close, too close and looking triumphant...
Before falling, twisting, turning, darkness, ice cold... Hazel eyes, golden, molten, worried, warm. Breath catching. Breathe, just breathe.
Gabriel watching him in silence, eyes hazel, just hazel. No longer glowing, no longer warm and molten and liquid light.
Swallowing hard, jerking his eyes away. Gabriel knows, soft shaky snort, Gabriel’s seen. Knows exactly how much this scares him. Dean, Dean can never know. Dean with his guilt, Dean who can’t help him, who’s incapable of helping with this. He can’t do anything to help. Can only sit and wait and watch. And hope, if he still hopes, if he’s not just sitting back; watching and waiting for the inevitable to happen.
“You’re staying?” Hoarse, heart still abnormally fast but no longer racing.
Because Gabriel is still here, he hasn’t left and that has to mean something. If he’s not doing the blood sigil tonight, he doesn’t have any other reason to stay, he has to be staying for him, to watch. Waiting to see what will happen now that Lucifer can find him again.
He can do this, concentrating on breathing even, watching Gabriel’s watch him. It’s not like, he’s not going to say yes. Not going to say yes and not going to climb out anymore damn windows. Not going to give Lucifer another opportunity to get close. Just going to walk away, find the damn door and walk away. Get out as fast as possible and run.
Hazel eyes hold his as Gabriel silently nods. Doesn’t mock or snipe or tell him he’s got nothing to worry about. It’s a lie. Lucifer will be waiting for him. Waiting and quite possibly pissed. He’s been hiding for almost two weeks. Freezing in realisation...it’s been longer. Eyes finding Gabriel’s again, holding on. Gabriel was hiding him for longer before that. Hiding him, keeping him safe. Fuck. Pulse thudding in his throat. Swallowing around it to nod back at the angel, acknowledge what he’s doing. What he’s already done.
And with Gabriel here he won’t have the nightmares. Won’t have to fight once he escapes from Lucifer. It’s stupid, but he just, he won’t. Doesn’t have them when the angel is here. Can’t seem to stop having them when he’s not. Even knowing that’s he’s doing it to himself. Creating the monsters, punishing himself. They’re not as bad as they were before. Not as vicious or brutal but they’re still there. They still happen. Still leave him shaking, sweaty and wild eyed in the morning. The guilt still gnawing at him, he started this, it was him, his fault. He believed Ruby, gave in to her plan, drank demon blood and it’s lead to this. The apocalypse.
He started the Apocalypse. Brought on the Four Horseman. He’s damned the entire world, maybe even Heaven because he was weak. Thought he knew better than Dean. Than everyone. He didn’t listen and...
“Sam.” One word drifting across the semi-darkness. “I swear I’ll smite you if you don’t stop.” And he sounds quietly serious, all amused joking gone.
“How...?” Because he can’t, he can’t read his thoughts, they can’t, the Enochian sigils, Cas made sure of it, he...
“You’re kidding right?” A long missed eye roll, head almost shaking before he settles on a quirked eyebrow. “You’re tortured face is even more obvious than Cas’ clueless one.” Then serious, slightly bitter. “And you asked if I was staying.” Quick flash of emotion too fast to read.
“I...” He doesn’t want Gabriel to be the one to stop the nightmares, doesn’t want to want him to stay, need him to stay, need him to be here to know that he can...that he won’t do anything stupid. That he won’t say yes. But he does. He does and he can’t seem to stop himself.
“Just go to sleep.” No hint of exasperation, eyes level, no trace of mockery.
He can’t help the huff of laughter.
“Right, just go to sleep now that I know a pissed Lucifer is ready and waiting for me. I’ll get right on that.”
That gets him another eye roll.
“I will knock you out.” But he’s nowhere near as serious this time, amusement leaking through.
“Or you could tell me why you felt the need to kneel in front of Bobby when he grabbed the rifle?”
Trying to distract him, anything but fall asleep. He can, he will, but later. Not now. Later when the idea of a pissed Lucifer isn’t so fresh and painfully frightening, making him feel so weak, powerless, pathetic.
And the amusement evaporates, eyes sliding away.
“Or why you collapsed and still look like crap?” Pushing for answers.
Gabriel’s fingers actually twitch, to click his fingers? To leave? And why didn’t he just leave earlier when he argued with Cas? Argument which wasn’t quite an argument, as though neither of them were willing to push the other.
He just, he doesn’t know what to think. Doesn’t know what he thinks about what happened in Bobby’s study with the rifle. God? An echo? An echo of God. Even an echo, it’s more than he’s ever seen. More than anyone has ever seen. Bobby was filled with the presence of God? Bobby who’s memories are hazy and almost as disturbing as his memories of being possessed by demons. Which doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in God. Even if Bobby was quick to point out he felt safe, not in control but warm and secure, at the time. He hadn’t felt concerned about not being in control at all. Had remembered a sense of it being right, even if part of him was aware of how very ‘not right’ it was.
And Dean...
“Dean doesn’t even remember stripping...” Because he asked and Dean doesn’t, didn’t hear a thing. Not Gabriel making that noise or how the rifle came apart in his hands. One moment his fingers were reaching for it, the next Sam was pushing it to the table top.
The archangel’s eyes flicker like weak firelight. Still fixed on the door and completely still, not as inhumanely still as he was when Dean stripped the rifle, but it’s hard to tell if he’s breathing. He should stop, stop pushing, stop asking but he needs to know. Did the rifle do something to Dean?
“Can relics hurt people who aren’t their rightful owner?”
Gabriel’s relief is almost imperceptible, only evident in the slow blink, lashes covering flickering gold. The slight movement of his chest as he breathes in, then softly out.
“No.” One word, nothing else and he hasn’t focused on him again, is quietly reaching for the TV remote and turning the sound back on. Soft but still a clear and present barrier, a hint, maybe even a warning. Gabriel doesn’t want to talk about this. Looks almost...vulnerable. A word he’d never thought he’d use for Gabriel. But he does, he looks vulnerable.
Eyes carefully avoiding his, even if they are still flickering, light dimming down now to the merest hint of golden light filtering through hazel. Shoulders still tense, body still. Gabriel is never still. Always eating candy, tapping his feet, clicking his fingers, constant motion but now he’s still. Contained. Weak? Smudges of grey still shadowing his averted eyes. Eyes which won’t meet his and he should ask, there are so many more questions but he can’t, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to push him further. He doubts Gabriel would hurt him, doubts he’d even leave but...he doesn’t want to ask any more questions tonight.
***
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Cas
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x08
Warnings: Swearing.
Word Count: 3,196
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Sam has questions and they're not exactly the ones Gabriel was expecting.
Notes: Follows on from Part Twenty-Five
He looks exhausted, smudges of darkness under eyes that have stopped glowing gold. Gabriel’s been avoiding them all afternoon. Hiding out in Sam’s make-shift bedroom. Reclining back on the pettable leather couch and watching his standard, oversized TV on the wall. It’s hard to believe he’s an Archangel when he’s listless, barely lifting a finger to change the channel via the remote. No clicking his fingers, no absent hand waving or barely pointing the remote in the direction of the television, while it miraculously changes the station anyway.
Gabriel might be exhausted but he’s not the only one. Sam’s pausing in the doorway to look down and wonder where he’s going to sit because Gabriel’s sprawled all over the couch. Jean clad legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankle. But he needs to sit and soon. Just the trip from the study to here has tired him out. Again. Just a short walk after the long day, now all he wants is his bed. Bed and quiet, to not have to listen to Dean bitching at him. Not that Dean doesn’t have a point. Gabriel is keeping secrets from them, not a big surprise, it’s not like they expected him to just explain everything.
Maybe Dean’s forgotten who he’s dealing with, then again, maybe not. Maybe that’s the problem. Dean hasn’t forgotten anything. Doesn’t have forgive and forget in his personal lexicon. Which reminds him so much of his Dad it’s almost painful.
Gabriel continues to ignore him, or at least pretend to ignore him, as he yawns and shuffles across the room. This overtired exhaustion thing, he’s over it. They need to get back out there, back on the road, hunting. So many people are dying while they just sit here, recovering. Recovery that they both needed, was necessary but so much time wasted. So many more people dead because they weren’t out there saving people. Were sitting around planning the next hunt instead of actually hunting.
By the time he starts to sink down into the couch Gabriel’s legs have moved, slid out of the way, one sliding completely off the leather and over the side, trailing one socked foot across the floor. Trailing stark white against clean beige carpet, clean because he vacuumed it yesterday for Bobby. The smallest token of appreciation and something to do. Something to stop him going insane from all the sitting, researching; frustrating, tiresome waiting to regain strength. The other foot slides up, bent knee resting against the leather back. Just enough space for him to sink into the soft, perfect cushioning without Gabriel’s foot touching his hip.
Gabriel who still isn’t acknowledging his presence. Hasn’t even looked his way, who might simply ignore him and stay here all night. All night, silent groan. His eyes are already sinking shut, closing before he wants them to. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Gabriel, because he does. He knows Gabriel won’t hurt him, soft snort, Gabriel’s the one who’s least likely to hurt him these days. Must be a sign of the Apocalypse. Breath catching slightly. Cursing softly inside his own head. Real funny Sam, real amusing.
Letting his head fall back as he tries to ignore his own stupidity, body already sinking further into the leather. At this rate it’s going to take something major to get him up again, he’s tired, muscles weak and heavy with exhaustion. Heart slipping into a slow rhythm, breath already evening out.
Gabriel shifts slightly and the channel changes again. Obnoxious laugh track replaced with deep funky bass under familiar jazz music. Lips already twitching in amusement, why is he not surprised that Gabriel stopped here? Gabriel doesn’t need new and interesting ways to fuck with people, but apparently he likes to watch people fucking with other people. God, mental groan, he’s probably learning too. But at least he’s moved on from trashy tabloid magazines as a source of ideas. Twisted ideas on how to mess with people, hand out just deserts. At least if he’s using con-man inspiration, there’s less chance of chewed up or torn apart bodies when he’s done.
It’s easy to get lost in the background noise, sink further into the couch even if he is sitting upright, not like he hasn’t fallen asleep in the Impala that way. Falling asleep sitting upright is almost as common as falling asleep laying down these days. And the couch is soft and warm and...moving? Forcing his eyes open, mere slits to see that Gabriel has turned the overhead lights off. The remaining illumination is filtering through the room from the TV and he’s turned the sound off. Plunging the room into silence as well. Gabriel is sitting under the window in a new armchair when his eyes slide closed. Armchair that’s a perfect match for the oversized couch he created.
It takes a moment or two to realise he can lay down now, lay down and slide into blissful sleep. Except for the fact Gabriel is sitting less than three feet away. Cracking his eyes open again to notice the angel’s just staring at a silent television. Staring but not watching, eyes barely shifting, hardly a flicker. Hazel dull and almost lifeless.
“Gabriel?”
Word out of his mouth without thinking, sitting up straighter, leaning forward slightly, limp hands sliding over his thighs. He’s tired, so tired and yet moving without stopping to consider what he’s doing, what he’s asking. Or maybe that’s why he can move without thought. Ask...What is he asking?
Gabriel’s eyes slide across to stare at him before sliding away again. Barely a flicker acknowledging that Sam’s shifted closer, moved towards him slightly, spoken his name. The angel’s eyelashes slide closed a moment, hiding dipped hazel, then slowly open again. He looks so tired, like he needs to rest, but does he even sleep? Cas doesn’t sleep so it’s unlikely an Archangel would, and yet he looks like he needs to. Looks like he’s mere seconds away from closing his eyes, drifting off into deep, exhausted sleep.
“Are you okay?” He can’t help the question. Gabriel is, he’s helping, has helped.
Dean would...Does he really care what Dean would think right now? He’s not here, he’s not going to know, and Gabriel, Gabriel is staring at him, eyes slightly wider, almost shock. Shock and then a blink later twisted amusement.
“Awww Sammy, I’m so touched that you care.” Drawling mockery.
And his teeth are instantly on edge, reminded of Castiel’s deliberate brush off earlier. He’s asking, he’s actually wasting time worrying about the bastard of an Archangel and... He’s worrying about Gabriel. He...shying away from that thought. It’s Gabriel, he’s helped, is helping him. Has saved him, it’s just...just a reflex. Gabriel has been around so much lately. Has helped him a lot lately.
“You look like shit.” Sniping back, only the slightest tremor. It’s perfectly logical, even if it’s disturbing and dangerous and wrong. They can’t trust Gabriel. He can’t trust Gabriel. He just can’t.
Gabriel tortured him for months, fucking months, killed Dean over and over in front of him. Took him away for six whole months, left him dead til he killed Bobby. He was so sure it was the Trickster, so sure and yet it looked just like Bobby, talked like Bobby. Could have been Bobby and he didn’t care. All he cared about was revenge, getting Dean back. Anything to get Dean back. And that was Gabriel. The same asshole who locked him and Dean inside TV Land. Turned him into a damn car! And that’s not including the mechanical kick in the balls he decided to give him.
And yet the angel has saved his life more than once, saved him from Lucifer. But Ruby saved his life too. Saved his life more than a few times. Stopped him drinking when Dean...Hell Hounds ripped him...but in the end Ruby delivered him to Lucifer. And Ruby did a hell of a lot more than keep him grounded every time a twisting, sliding, falling feeling kicked in. A lot more than make sure he had a comfortable place to sleep at Bobby’s. A lot more physical things that meant a hell of a lot less, remembering how his skin crawled the first time he fucked her.
Ruby also didn’t put herself in front of Bobby with a rifle, knowing full well that Bobby couldn’t stand her.
Rifle he still has questions about.
“Could the rifle have hurt you?” Watching Gabriel’s brow furrow in confused shock then moving into amusement.
“I think you have your priorities skewed here kiddo.” Mocking smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Frustration rolling in again.
“Right, because wanting to know if you could have been killed? That’s a skewed priority.”
Gabriel’s amusement fades into something far less trivial, eyes narrowing.
“Depends on what you’re thinking there tiger.” Words, tone flippant but eyes locked on his, watching, waiting, staring. And if he thought Gabriel could read his mind he’d be worried from the intensity of the stare.
“Could it kill you?” And more importantly. “Could Bobby use it to kill Lucifer?”
Demanding, watching as Gabriel’s lips twist into a thin line of something, something he’s not sure about. Not sure why Gabriel’s gone from amused at him asking if he’s alright, to anger? Annoyance? Disappointment? Just from him asking if the rifle can be used to hurt Lucifer?
They need something against Lucifer. Something, some way to defend themselves because they can only avoid him, hide for so long.
Lucifer is sure they’ll meet in a few months. Not that long from now, weeks, months racing by and he has to, needs something to ensure he doesn’t...He won’t. Knows he won’t. But it would be better to have an insurance policy. Something they could use against him. Even if it can’t kill him, anything to keep him at bay, anything is better than nothing. God, he’ll take anything over nothing right now.
“I don’t know.” Voice soft, dropped low and sincere. Eyes, line of his mouth softer, apologetic.
Tearing his eyes away to stare at the door, closed door, anything but meet Gabriel’s eyes. Genuine eyes, fuck! And he believes him, trusts that he’s telling the truth. Gabriel doesn’t know if it could. And the only way they could test it, know for sure, daring a glance back...and he can’t do it. Won’t do it. Could...Dean would, but he can’t. Fuck. They need Gabriel, he needs Gabriel. Cas could do the sigil, sigil which needs redoing, but...Lucifer would find him sooner. Sooner and they have no fucking plan for when that happens. Not if, definitely when. Rubbing fingers into dry, grainy eyes.
They’re not prepared, not even close to it. They’re just running, hiding, hoping. Which is only going to last so long. They have to think of something, come up with a plan. He can’t face Lucifer again without some...and suddenly something occurs to him. The sigil, the blood sigil, Cas did the first one and it lasted a few days, then Gabriel did it and it lasted just over a week, stopped working this morning, catching glimpses of that washed out, horribly familiar room, shadowy figure waiting. Biding his time and now...now he has to...Heart starting to race.
He’s not a coward. He’s faced monsters, angels, demons, vengeful spirits but Lucifer... it’s Lucifer and last time they met he almost cut out his soul.
...holding onto the window frame, looking back into the room and staring right up into Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer who’s suddenly so much closer, too close. Standing just on the other side of the window now. Standing so close, too close and looking triumphant...
Before falling, twisting, turning, darkness, ice cold... Hazel eyes, golden, molten, worried, warm. Breath catching. Breathe, just breathe.
Gabriel watching him in silence, eyes hazel, just hazel. No longer glowing, no longer warm and molten and liquid light.
Swallowing hard, jerking his eyes away. Gabriel knows, soft shaky snort, Gabriel’s seen. Knows exactly how much this scares him. Dean, Dean can never know. Dean with his guilt, Dean who can’t help him, who’s incapable of helping with this. He can’t do anything to help. Can only sit and wait and watch. And hope, if he still hopes, if he’s not just sitting back; watching and waiting for the inevitable to happen.
“You’re staying?” Hoarse, heart still abnormally fast but no longer racing.
Because Gabriel is still here, he hasn’t left and that has to mean something. If he’s not doing the blood sigil tonight, he doesn’t have any other reason to stay, he has to be staying for him, to watch. Waiting to see what will happen now that Lucifer can find him again.
He can do this, concentrating on breathing even, watching Gabriel’s watch him. It’s not like, he’s not going to say yes. Not going to say yes and not going to climb out anymore damn windows. Not going to give Lucifer another opportunity to get close. Just going to walk away, find the damn door and walk away. Get out as fast as possible and run.
Hazel eyes hold his as Gabriel silently nods. Doesn’t mock or snipe or tell him he’s got nothing to worry about. It’s a lie. Lucifer will be waiting for him. Waiting and quite possibly pissed. He’s been hiding for almost two weeks. Freezing in realisation...it’s been longer. Eyes finding Gabriel’s again, holding on. Gabriel was hiding him for longer before that. Hiding him, keeping him safe. Fuck. Pulse thudding in his throat. Swallowing around it to nod back at the angel, acknowledge what he’s doing. What he’s already done.
And with Gabriel here he won’t have the nightmares. Won’t have to fight once he escapes from Lucifer. It’s stupid, but he just, he won’t. Doesn’t have them when the angel is here. Can’t seem to stop having them when he’s not. Even knowing that’s he’s doing it to himself. Creating the monsters, punishing himself. They’re not as bad as they were before. Not as vicious or brutal but they’re still there. They still happen. Still leave him shaking, sweaty and wild eyed in the morning. The guilt still gnawing at him, he started this, it was him, his fault. He believed Ruby, gave in to her plan, drank demon blood and it’s lead to this. The apocalypse.
He started the Apocalypse. Brought on the Four Horseman. He’s damned the entire world, maybe even Heaven because he was weak. Thought he knew better than Dean. Than everyone. He didn’t listen and...
“Sam.” One word drifting across the semi-darkness. “I swear I’ll smite you if you don’t stop.” And he sounds quietly serious, all amused joking gone.
“How...?” Because he can’t, he can’t read his thoughts, they can’t, the Enochian sigils, Cas made sure of it, he...
“You’re kidding right?” A long missed eye roll, head almost shaking before he settles on a quirked eyebrow. “You’re tortured face is even more obvious than Cas’ clueless one.” Then serious, slightly bitter. “And you asked if I was staying.” Quick flash of emotion too fast to read.
“I...” He doesn’t want Gabriel to be the one to stop the nightmares, doesn’t want to want him to stay, need him to stay, need him to be here to know that he can...that he won’t do anything stupid. That he won’t say yes. But he does. He does and he can’t seem to stop himself.
“Just go to sleep.” No hint of exasperation, eyes level, no trace of mockery.
He can’t help the huff of laughter.
“Right, just go to sleep now that I know a pissed Lucifer is ready and waiting for me. I’ll get right on that.”
That gets him another eye roll.
“I will knock you out.” But he’s nowhere near as serious this time, amusement leaking through.
“Or you could tell me why you felt the need to kneel in front of Bobby when he grabbed the rifle?”
Trying to distract him, anything but fall asleep. He can, he will, but later. Not now. Later when the idea of a pissed Lucifer isn’t so fresh and painfully frightening, making him feel so weak, powerless, pathetic.
And the amusement evaporates, eyes sliding away.
“Or why you collapsed and still look like crap?” Pushing for answers.
Gabriel’s fingers actually twitch, to click his fingers? To leave? And why didn’t he just leave earlier when he argued with Cas? Argument which wasn’t quite an argument, as though neither of them were willing to push the other.
He just, he doesn’t know what to think. Doesn’t know what he thinks about what happened in Bobby’s study with the rifle. God? An echo? An echo of God. Even an echo, it’s more than he’s ever seen. More than anyone has ever seen. Bobby was filled with the presence of God? Bobby who’s memories are hazy and almost as disturbing as his memories of being possessed by demons. Which doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in God. Even if Bobby was quick to point out he felt safe, not in control but warm and secure, at the time. He hadn’t felt concerned about not being in control at all. Had remembered a sense of it being right, even if part of him was aware of how very ‘not right’ it was.
And Dean...
“Dean doesn’t even remember stripping...” Because he asked and Dean doesn’t, didn’t hear a thing. Not Gabriel making that noise or how the rifle came apart in his hands. One moment his fingers were reaching for it, the next Sam was pushing it to the table top.
The archangel’s eyes flicker like weak firelight. Still fixed on the door and completely still, not as inhumanely still as he was when Dean stripped the rifle, but it’s hard to tell if he’s breathing. He should stop, stop pushing, stop asking but he needs to know. Did the rifle do something to Dean?
“Can relics hurt people who aren’t their rightful owner?”
Gabriel’s relief is almost imperceptible, only evident in the slow blink, lashes covering flickering gold. The slight movement of his chest as he breathes in, then softly out.
“No.” One word, nothing else and he hasn’t focused on him again, is quietly reaching for the TV remote and turning the sound back on. Soft but still a clear and present barrier, a hint, maybe even a warning. Gabriel doesn’t want to talk about this. Looks almost...vulnerable. A word he’d never thought he’d use for Gabriel. But he does, he looks vulnerable.
Eyes carefully avoiding his, even if they are still flickering, light dimming down now to the merest hint of golden light filtering through hazel. Shoulders still tense, body still. Gabriel is never still. Always eating candy, tapping his feet, clicking his fingers, constant motion but now he’s still. Contained. Weak? Smudges of grey still shadowing his averted eyes. Eyes which won’t meet his and he should ask, there are so many more questions but he can’t, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to push him further. He doubts Gabriel would hurt him, doubts he’d even leave but...he doesn’t want to ask any more questions tonight.
***