When The Trickster Starts A-Poking (Supernatural)
Title: When The Trickster Starts A-Poking
Characters/Pairing(s): Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel.
Rating: R
Warnings: humor, almost-a-case-fic, jealous!sam, jealous!cas.
Spoilers/Timeline: To Changing Channels certainly, I’d say up to 5x13 to be safe.
Summary: Wrote for pledge_a_thon for bidder paper_legends who requested Gabriel under a spell of a Trickster, bounded to Winchesters and compelled to tell the truth. (The exact prompt here) Well, I tried my best.
Word Count: 12.723
Beta: kaziwren. All remained mistakes are fault of my editing.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. I even stole a title.
THEN
~
“Jerk.” Fuck you, I missed you.
“Bitch.” Same here, bro, same here.
~
“Lilith was the final seal,” Sam can hear how much his voice sounds broken, but it doesn’t stop him. Perhaps it would make him stop if his voice sounded normal. There was no place for normal now. “I killed her and I set Lucifer free.”
~
“You smell like a toilet,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose, and Dean seriously considered hugging him just to leave some of the stinking mud on him. He was just afraid it may turn into a ‘Man-I-Love-You-Where-The-Fuck-Have-You-Been?-I-Missed-You-Stupid’ kind of hug, and he was too manly, too tired, and definitely too smelly for that kind of chick-flick.
~
“I’m not drinking demon blood for kicks!”
~
“She’s a poison, Sammy! Look what she did to you!”
~
“You didn’t…” Dean asked, sounding slightly breathless. Shock and pride fight with the anger inside him.
“Oh, I did!” answered Sammy, laughing like a little kid, and Dean couldn’t even kick him under the table. It’s been ages since he’d heard that laugh.
~
“You think I will take one look at demon blood and fall right off the wagon. As if after all of this, I haven’t learned my lesson!” Sam snapped, his voice full of unrestrained anger.
“Well, have you?” Dean shot back quickly.
Sam angrily pushed Dean back.
He stopped himself when he noticed the quick look of fear in Dean’s eyes. Once upon a time, they used to push and punch each other during arguments. Now? There’s much less allowed. When you try to gain back your relationship with your brother - the one you left bleeding on a motel room floor after you beat him into pulp - even the little things change.
~
“Oh, I hate you,” groaned Sam, barely holding his head over the toilet.
“Oh, I know you do,” Dean smiled happily, deciding to ignore the urge to mock Sam into next week. There would be time for that later.
~
“You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”
~
“Trickster targets the high and mighty. Knocks them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor.”
~
“I’m over it!” Trickster said suddenly. He sounded tired and resigned, like he took something on himself that was just too big for him.
“Meaning what?” Sam, confused, asked. His voice was full of unshed tears, because Dean, Dean, Dean…
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
The hard way, as always, kiddo.
~
“So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneazy or Douchy?”
Gabriel stared at him for one whole heartbeat. Over thousands of years he imagined who’d be the one to discover his true form. Who’d be the one to hear his name again. He was momentarily tempted to say his name in Angel’s language. To sing it, while unfolding his massive wings. But that would make the Winchesters’ eyes burn and their ears bleed, and that’s not Gabriel’s style anymore.
Gabriel. The name rings in his mind like a long forgotten, but warm memory. For some reason, he realizes he hates the idea of their dirty, human ears hearing it.
“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” Or they used to, at least.
“Gabriel? The archangel?”
Gabriel smothers a snort, because that title sounds so wrong now. What he wouldn’t do to never have it in the first place.
“Guilty.”
~
NOW
~
“Hello, I’m agent Bloom, and this is my partner Agent Castellano,” said Dean, displaying in synch with Sam his fake FBI id.
He loved this part, perhaps his mind was warped by way too much X-Files while growing up, but he always strongly believed true Feds always showed theirs badges in synch.
Dean proudly smiled at the sheriff. “We’re here to talk about the murder of Mr. Dukes?”
“Yeah, it was terrible thing, I swear. I don’t really think it’s a case for the FBI, but if you guys would like to help out, it’s more than fine by me.”
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Sam, sounding even more professional than Dean. Obviously, after all, he was Scully on this team. “But after a wife of ten years stabbed her husband, saying he didn’t act like himself, and that she believed he was overpowered by something… you’re saying it’s nothing unusual?”
“Oh, it’s plenty unusual, I’ll give you that,” the Sheriff replied hastily. “But in case you didn’t notice, something unusual happens every fifteen minutes around here.”
Shuffling through papers on his desk, the Sheriff went on.
“There are reports about a bloody sky and red rivers. Dying crops and some signs of weird cults. People go crazy from all the pressure. Two days ago, a woman called us saying she thinks her child is possessed. Now I have to tell you, I know that brat, and seriously, possession would be a convenient excuse. The little bastard is vicious and greedy. It’d be an improvement if Satan himself got into him. If you know what I mean.”
Sam imagined a little, chubby boy throwing hissy fits, and decided that, yeah, he could see what the man was saying. Sure, the fallen angel always babbled on about destiny, daddy did this, and “we’re so alike let’s start a club, Sammy.” At least he never raised his voice.
Hell, trapped in the powerless body of a child Lucifer wouldn’t be that bad. Sure, a little annoying know-it-all, but not too bad at all.
Sam blinked slowly, noticing Dean’s analyzing gaze. Sam so needed to get a full night’s sleep. Musing about a kid version of Satan was proof of that. Soon, he’ll be buying the bastard lollipops to make him less evil.
Sam frowned. Did Lucifer even eat?
“Well, did you send someone there to check up on that woman and her kid?” Dean asked, trying to sound vaguely interested.
Normal FBI agents don’t assume that two people in one town acting strange may be a lead. At least not in times like this.
“We sure did. I mean, you know. Even if Adler just finally went crazy or she got fed up with her devious kid, we still needed to make sure the little devil wouldn’t get hurt or something.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully.
“And you found nothing that would suggest the stronger interference was needed?”
“Not really, no. You see the kid did act kind of strange, at least for him. He was constantly saying his mother how much he loves her and pretty much hugging her all the time. And you know, it doesn’t sound bad at all, but it was somehow like those creepy kids in horror movies, you know?”
The brothers nodded surely. Oh, yes. They did know.
“It was creepy, I’ll give you that,” sheriff said with a shrug. “But it’s not like I had any reason to interfere or arrest anybody. We warned Mrs. Adler social workers will visit her just in case, we informed them what’s going on and decided it’s better to leave it there. They should know how to handle this kind of thing, right?”
Dean nodded seriously and glanced at his brother in silent communication. Nodding again, he turned to the sheriff with a smile on his face.
“You couldn’t by any chance give as the address of this woman? Since we’re already in town, perhaps we could check up on that? We would hate if something had had happened while we’re in town, especially since as you say there’s not much for us to investigate regarding misters Dukes’ case.”
Sheriff frowned slightly, obviously not buying the idea of FBI agents wanting to do something useful they were not directly assigned to. Sam and Dean gave him small smiles, trying to look as trustworthy as possible. Personally, Dean always thought it wasn’t one of theirs best looks.
~
“Dude, this job is seriously weird,” Dean said on theirs way to Mrs. Adler’s house. “This Dukes lady snuffed her husband because he started being honest? Not to mention, why the fuck he started being a human truth pill?”
Sam shrugged.
“And now this?” Dean continued ranting. “A mother scared by her child, because it hugs her too much? Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Maybe the sheriff is right. Maybe it is some weird shock reaction. I mean, people have always acted crazy whenever there’s a suspicion the world is ending. Now it’s actually ending, so…”
“So they went bat-shit crazy for real, too?”
“I guess.”
Dean sighed at this response and turned into the street, where was standing the Adler’s house. He frowned at the image of similar looking family houses they were driving buy.
“Let’s just check up on her and see if there actually is a case here or should we live it for the shrinks,” Sam said, while Dean parked the car.
Dean tugged at his suit jacket as Sam was grabbing the file they begged out of the sheriff. If that didn’t make them look like legit social workers, probably the trustworthy looks wouldn’t help as well.
“Okay, that just feels wrong,” said Dean, readjusting his blue tie.
Sam stared at him incredulously.
“Dude! We’ve pretended to be priests!”
“Yeah, well, that was different. There are some cool priests in this world, you know? They’re not all dickheads by definition. I mean, Pastor Jim was cool, right?”
“Contrary to your beliefs, Dean, not all social workers are dickheads either,” Sam responded tiredly while slowly massaging the bridge of his nose to get ride of a growing headache.
“Yeah, well. I’ll believe it, when I’ll see it,” Dean shot back.
“Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
Both brothers jumped in surprise. Sam closed his eyes tightly at the pain that erupted when he smacked his head on the car’s ceiling. He swore quietly, which unsurprisingly echoed the same curse Dean yelped loudly.
“Cas! Don’t. Do. That!” the older Winchester hissed as he glanced in the rearview mirror at the now frowning angel in the backseat.
“You were not driving, I assumed my presence now would be acceptable.”
“Yeah, well… It’s still creepy when you suddenly join in a conversation without announcing your presence!”
Dean stopped himself and groaned. “Damn it! Now I’m talking like you!”
Castiel nodded and Dean didn’t know if the look the angel gave him said Castiel was mocking him or if he was really paying attention. Dean knew Castiel just well enough he could almost bet on the later.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I have returned from Jerusalem. I wanted to check if you required my assistance.”
Dean snorted.
“No offence, wingman, but you don’t exactly have the poker face we need when we lie to people on a job.”
Castiel nodded again, clearly accepting Dean’s assessment of his inability to lie.
Just then, Sam sucked in a pained breath and the others immediately shifted their attention to him.
“You okay, Sammy?”
“Yeah, it’s just a headache. I didn’t sleep all that well.”
When the angel began to frown, Sam wanted to scream at Castiel to at least try to be more subtle about his trust issues. With Castiel, even the slightest change in Sam’s behavior was suspicious. Sam constantly felt his brother’s, or the angel’s, gaze on him, just waiting for him to fuck up again. He could only imagine how the news that he thinks that Lucifer is messing with his sleep would play out now and thank you very much, he thinks he’s seen enough of the panic room for quite some time.
“You sure? I mean, you’re gonna be okay? If not, I could take Cas with me.”
Sure you could, Sam thought bitterly. It was good that they had someone else on their side. It was good Dean had someone else he could trust. It was just peachy with Sam how much those two had bonded when he was off cleaning tables and chit-chatting with the devil.
“If there’s a creature involved, I believe I could be of help identifying it.”
“I’m fine!” snapped Sam. He saw Dean raise his eyebrows to silently reproach him for barking at his angel.
Sam took a deep breath, calming himself slightly. “I’m fine, really. Can we go?”
Dean stared at Sam for a second or two, but he finally nodded and opened the door, telling the angel to wait for them. Castiel dutifully waited in the Impala like a faithful dog, and Sam just wanted to bitch slap him. He doubted that would do any of them any good, and his head ached far too much to consider such rapid moves.
Slowly the brothers made their way to the small house near the road. There were toys strewn all over the yard. Dean raised his eyebrows at the sheer number of them, not to mention the sandbox and slides in the side yard.
“Remind me, how many kids live here?” he murmured to Sam and his brother only smiled.
Trust Dean to be a 31-year-old man who could get jealous over a kid’s toys. Sam managed to keep his thoughts to himself as they reached the door. Dean knocked quickly and loudly, and Sam could feel the sound vibrating in his brain. He pointedly ignored Dean’s assessing glance, afraid he would snap at him, too.
“H-Hello?” said a woman in a small voice, opening the door slightly.
She was small due to her hunched stance. She seemed terrified of something, barely daring to speak up. Perhaps there was no supernatural creature in sight, but certainly something was going on here, because no one already used to having a child could look this scared from taking care of one.
Seeing the two men in suits, the woman tried to pull herself together. She ran her hand through her thick brown mess of hair.
“I… How can I help you?” she asked again.
“Hello, Mrs. Adler,” said Dean smoothly, smiling at her with his most charming smile. “My name is Jimmy Murrison and that’s my partner Lee Agnew. We’re with Social Services. The police were here recently and they were concerned about you and your son, Jack.”
Mrs. Adler nodded nervously, but made no move to let them in, nor did she say anything to make them go away. Sam was under the impression she was way past the power to resist any kind of pressure, or making her own decisions.
“May we come in?” Sam asked politely, but firmly.
She trembled slightly, obviously giving up, and she nodded quickly, opening the door wider. The brothers stepped inside behind her, looking around the house full of tossed around toys and clothes, and some broken plates. Dean looked at Sam. Yep, definitely something wrong was going on here.
Mrs. Adler took a petrified glance at one of the doors that was nailed shut and almost completely blocked by a heavy dresser. Sam looked over some photographs lying scattered on the top of it. They were full of a smiling Mrs. Adler looking much more composed, and a chubby, blond 12-year-old or so boy who just looked bored or annoyed. Actually he looked very much like every big bully Sam ever met in his colorful school career.
“That’s… That’s Jackie,” said Mrs. Adler, noticing Sam’s look. She took one of the photos, hugging it to her chest and led them to the kitchen.
“Mrs. Adler,” Dean began, “We really need to know what had happened here.”
“I… I’m not really sure. I love my Jackie. And yes, people kept telling me he’s not as perfect as I think, but he’s my son, you know? I didn’t… I couldn’t believe he’d be able to act like they were saying. I didn’t really listen to his teachers or other kids because if he could be such an angry, vicious boy, I would’ve noticed, right? I mean, I live with him. I raised him on my own. I know my son!”
“Of course, Mrs. Adler,” said Sam quickly. “I’m sure many parents feel the same way. But could you tell us what changed?”
“He… He stopped acting like himself. It started small. I asked him how school went and he said he never went anymore. And you know, what kid doesn’t only skips school, but also talks about it? Then he kept acting nastier and nastier, just like everyone kept telling me. He started calling me names. He had outbursts of anger and then he’d start crying and hugging me and telling he loved me over and over again! I swear, I can’t tell you this properly, so you’ll understand how weird it was, how it kept on creeping me out! I was so scared. I had to do this. I had to!” she sobbed and both brothers looked even more alarmed.
“What did you do Mrs. Adler? What…” asked Dean, but his question was interrupted by a loud yell coming from behind the barricaded door.
“Mom! MOM! Is someone out there? Who did you let in, you stupid bitch? MOM, PLEASE LET ME OUT! I’m scared! MOM!”
The woman sobbed again and Sam sighed, somewhat relieved. At least the kid was still alive.
“I’ll stay with her,” said Dean, looking at Sam who felt his headache was brutally reminding him of its existence due to the shouting and loud smashing noises coming from the basement. “You go get Cas. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on here.”
Sam wanted to mention they’d so far managed to live without the angelic help, or how if Dean was so dependent on it now, maybe it was smarter to bring Castiel along in the first place. It crossed his mind that if Castiel was so much more use than him, maybe he should have stayed in the car as the watchdog. And seriously, didn’t this angel have anything better to do than sit around waiting for Dean’s orders?
In the end he satisfied himself with slamming the door with more gusto than was strictly necessary.
~
“A trickster? Are you sure?” Sam asked, not sounding convinced.
They were back at the motel, with Sam seated by a table tired and grumpy, and Dean pacing with nervous energy. It was actually slightly less annoying than the angel standing still like a sculpture in the middle of the room. Only Castiel’s eyes followed Dean around with one of the less intense of his gazes.
“Yeah,” said Dean, shrugging. “I guess in some ways it makes sense. I mean, there’s mention of some candy wrappers in Duke’s apartment and perhaps there were some at Adlers', too. But with the mess the kid made and the amount of food he can stuff down, we’ll never know. And both of the victims were total dicks who appeared nice and suddenly couldn’t lie at all. Just desserts or what? And Cas sensed the Trickster magic at the Adlers’ house.”
Castiel noddes at this statement and Dean nodded back, looking at him with some weird communication that maybe is completely obvious when you’re a part of it, but Sam wasn’t, so it just pissed him off. And seriously, since when was Castiel’s opinion the final one? Apparently since now, because Dean somehow communicated to him it’s time to start the ritual, and Castiel was already moving. He began writing some symbols on the small table on the other side of the room. Sam supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had glared at the angel when he so much as glanced at Sam. Well, actually Sam was glaring at Castiel for a while, but that was when the angel finally caught on.
“It’s ridiculous,” Sam said, and Dean at least turned his head to him, while Castiel kept on going through the ritual without as much as a glance of acknowledgment. “I thought we decided the Trickster is trying to help us out now. Why the hell would he do any of this?”
Dean shrugged.
“Who knows? It’s not like he sticks with us all the time. Maybe he’s still tricking on the side. And if he’s as much on our side as you seem sure he is, then we can yank him here and tell him to stop before some other dick gets killed.”
Sam looked up at him, hiding a smile, and Dean makes a face.
“Hilarious, Samantha. If anything, you’d be the one suffering. He likes you more.”
“He does not! You’re the one who laughs with him all the time.”
“Oh, puh-lease. He killed me more times than even you could count!” the older Winchester mock whined, smiling brighter when he noticed that Castiel was listening carefully but frowning more, clearly not understanding the conversation.
“He gave me herpies!”
Dean moved his eyebrows meaningfully and was rewarded with one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. He’d missed those lately. Dean opened his mouth to explain to Sam exactly how herpies can be the sign of looooove, but Castiel started reciting in Enochian or some other ancient language, calling to his brother over the fire of the thick, yellow candle.
The moment Castiel finished all five of the candles he set up suddenly stopped burning as if someone had managed to blow them out at the same time, or more likely, as if they suddenly had no air around them to burn anymore. Not even a weak wisp of smoke rose from any of them. Both brothers stared at them fixedly, while Castiel slowly looked up and met the eyes of his brother standing on the other side of the round table.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel rasped and Winchesters’ heads snapped up to look at the archangel.
“Hi, kiddo. Bother to tell me why the emergency call? I could’ve been busy, you know?”
“Then you’d refuse the summoning, obviously.”
Gabriel sighed as if Castiel failed to understand some unspoken but well-known rule of the angel communication.
“If you’re using the emergency line, how can I be sure you’re not bleeding to death on the other end? I swear, Cas, one of this days, you will cry wolf and nobody will pay attention.”
Castiel frowned, not understanding.
“If I were close to my death, I would not be able to complete the ritual,” he finally said and Gabriel rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful.
“The point is: short of emergencies, avoid the rituals, Cas.”
“I needed to contact you,” said the younger angel quickly, but Gabriel only made a phone sign and mouthed ‘call me’ to him.
Dean snorted, obviously unable to handle this particular angel conversation, and this time Sam didn’t blame him.
“What’s up dunderheads?” asked Gabriel, looking at the amused Winchesters. “Missed me already? Get a life. More importantly, get laid.”
“We came upon a Trickster, and we were wondering if it wasn’t you,” said Castiel.
Sam watched as the archangel leveled a glance upon his younger brother. There was so much disbelieving disappointment in that gaze Sam could only feel smug. From the beginning he'd been saying it was a stupid idea.
“You thought I chose your losing side over Lucifer and Michael just to end up killing you on a simple hunt? As a pagan god?” he asked angrily and Castiel looked away, embarrassed.
“No, we thought you still liked to screw with people and we came upon you accidentally,” explained Dean, quickly covering for his angel friend. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you still love screwing with people.”
“Oh, please. I’ve been here long enough to be past simple prejudice. I screw with everything that’s good at it,” answered Gabriel in a lighter tone, winking at Dean, who almost didn’t manage to keep a straight face. “But I think I’d see you morons coming and tell you what’s going on instead of fighting you. Not to mention Castiel should recognize my handiwork.”
“I cannot… sense your Trickster abilities as yours,” explained Castiel quietly, obviously ashamed of his limited powers. Gabriel only nodded.
“Well, sorry kittens. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to spend a lovely evening away from your silly humanity,” Gabriel said with a smirk before trying to disappear.
Castiel frowned and Dean raised his eyebrows surprised.
“You know, that whole ‘I already went away and came back’ shit is useful only when you can’t actually disappear?” asked the older Winchester and Gabriel managed to glare at him through his confusion.
“I… I can’t leave.”
There was a dead silence in the room. Dean started yet another silent conversation with Castiel, but the angel’s shocked eyes and shaking head were clear signs to everyone to pick up. He had no more idea what’s going on than them, and he sure as hell was not responsible.
“Huh,” summed up Sam intelligently. “I guess it is kind of a Trickster after all.”
“Yeah,” agreed Dean with a maniac grin on his face. “And I’m not the dickiest dick in town!”
Sam for the first time in a long time felt the happy, surprised laughter bubbling in him and when Dean looked back at him with mirth in his eyes, he let that laugh out, feeling the pain in his head finally ease off.
~
The archangel stood obediently while Castiel circled him, murmuring some spells, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Gabriel was allowing this fussing without a comment only because he was too busy swearing under his breath and promising an eternity of pain to the creature responsible. The Winchesters were both fighting grins and Sam was under impression it was one of those ‘it’s fun, because it’s not us’ kind of situations. He didn’t mind, for once, it was them laughing.
“I’m going to rip his spirit to shreds and throw it all across this universe and several more, the stupid little son of a pagan god and sacrificial goat.”
Dean snorted, unable to stop himself and Gabriel glared at him, quick and sharp. Dangerous and intense. He was close to getting an aneurysm from trying to use the powers he no longer possessed.
“If you had any brain left in your skull, you’d understand why this is not funny in the slightest,” Gabriel growled. “This thing is far too powerful for any one of us to be happy about!”
“Yes,” agreed Castiel gravely. “Tricksters more powerful than angels are truly a great irritation.”
Gabriel, surprised, looked back at his brother, watching the corners of his mouth tremble as Dean roared with laughter. Sam tried to stifle his chuckles, but didn’t make a great job of it, judging by Gabriel’s patented ‘I’m surrounded by idiots’ eye-roll.
“Did you by any chance find out something more useful than your sense of humor, while you were at it?”
The serious nod was probably a sign that there was still a long road for Castiel before he could claim he had indeed found his sense of humor.
“I still believe it is a Trickster. It’s unknown why he managed to tie you with his spell so powerfully, but I believe it is quite possible he didn’t take all of your powers away. Could you try something?”
The archangel raised his eyebrows. He snapped his fingers and smiled at the sight of a colorful drink, complete with an umbrella and a straw, in his hand. He took a slow sip, while Castiel frowned, deep in thought.
“Well, if it all fails, you can still be a bartender,” smiled Dean, and Gabriel sighed tiredly.
The younger angel nodded to himself, looking closely at the archangel and then the space between him and the Winchesters as if he was following something invisible to human’s eyes.
“Yes, I believe most of your powers are actually still at your disposal, they’re only limited, because of your bond with Sam.”
“My what?!”
“Apparently part of the spell put on you is a bond between you and Sam. You can’t leave him and your powers are somehow limited due to his willingness of you using them. I think there are also some other side effects of this spell, but right now I can’t determine what they are.”
Both Sam and Gabriel stared at Castiel as he calmly explained the ridiculous spell. Gabriel started muttering again and Sam fought the urge to join in. Dean was grinning openly and only muttered ‘herpes love’, when Sam turned to glare at him.
“Well, since we’re back to hunting a Trickster, I guess we should go back to talk with the police. Maybe we’ll…”
“We should call Mrs. Adler, check if anything got better,” said Sam and Dean nodded in agreement.
“You do that and start on the research. You know, maybe they all had more in common than being dicks. I’m going to talk with the sheriff, Cas can tag along. Maybe he’ll sense something.”
“What? No! Why the hell am I staying here? It makes no sense and you’ll only make the guy suspicious if you suddenly appear with a new guy!”
Dean looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head, but Sam had had enough for one day. It was one thing to be unsure which one of them Dean was going to leave in the car as a guard dog, and quite another to be left alone with a dick of an archangel under some weird spell.
“Well, don’t you think it’ll make him more suspicious if we appear with two new guys? And it’s not like you can ditch Gabe anytime soon.”
Sam huffed angrily. Since when was tagging along with an angel barely holding on to his powers a smarter move than taking an archangel with them? And come to think of it, since when was said archangel known as ‘Gabe’? Did Dean seriously have problems with words longer than one syllable? Next time they find a lead on Lucifer, he’s going to become Lu, for God’s sake!
“And why the hell can’t we just take Gabriel? Cas can wait in the car like your faithful mascot, or I don’t know, fly away to look for God or whatever he does in his free time!”
Sam could hear the blood pumping through his body, the quickened echo of his pulse in his head. The rage bubbled in him, clenching his fists and making his head ache as if it was going to burst through his skull. He took a deep breath and tasted all the anger, jealousy, and pain stuck in his throat. His eyes watered as he was suffocating underneath it. He got up and almost ran from the room before Dean managed to respond.
He stepped out, half-heartedly pushing at the door, knowing it wouldn’t stay closed for long. He managed to bend over the railing and gulped a mouthful of air, when Dean stepped out after him. His whole posture screamed of anger, shock, and disappointment.
Flagstaff. Stanford. Dad. Ruby. Sam knew that particular mix very well. So well, in fact, he was somehow surprised he still could cause it. Apparently his brother still didn’t automatically expect the worst from him. Sam wasn’t sure if that was a comforting thought.
“Are you fucking serious? First, you stupid son of a bitch, we can’t take Gabriel because he’s under a fucking spell! If this Trickster managed to keep Gabriel’s annoying ass in place, he’s probably thought of a way to hide from him! Second of all, what the hell do you get off saying things like that to Cas? Seriously, I know you’re a heartless dick some of the time, but once upon a time you were running all over the place trying to find dad as well. You think you can back the fuck off slightly? The guy is obviously not taking this all too well! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I- I don’t know,” gasped out Sam, his voice weak and on the edge of tears.
He could feel Dean’s anger slipping into him and he knew his brother was right. He recognized the sound logic he’d somehow managed to avoid for some time and he felt a little stupid. But he also felt betrayed, sad and so alone. And the scariest thing was that those feelings didn’t even feel like his.
Dean quickly came closer, putting one hand on Sam’s arm while the other held his face up. His anger was hidden behind a thick wall of concern. Sam swallowed hard, trying to push down all the irrational sadness. He put his face on Dean’s shoulder, hugging him awkwardly. Sam wanted to reassure himself he’s not being left alone, he’s not going to be cast out just yet. He wanted to show Dean he’s not okay without the words that seemed to fail him.
One of Dean’s arms went around him, hugging him as if trying to keep Sam together and sane. Sam deeply breathed in the smell of his big brother, who was always there and he thought it might actually be working. Dean allowed him a few more seconds to collect himself. He didn’t let go, even when some woman whistled at them from the motel’s parking lot. Dean just sighed, resigned, and judging by the flexing of the muscles in his arm, Sam was pretty sure he’d flipped her off.
The younger Winchester stifled a wet chuckle in his brother’s arm at that.
“Okay, dude? You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Dean’s steady voice breaking the silence.
“Sorry,” murmured Sam, but he didn’t move until Dean nudged him with a painful elbow to his ribs.
“Seriously, end the octopus dance and speak the fuck up.”
“I- I don’t know what’s going on, Dean. I was getting more and more pissed the whole day, my head was fucking killing me.”
“And what? You snapped?”
“No, no… I mean, it wasn’t like that. I suddenly felt this rage finally, yes, snapping, I guess. And then I felt so hurt and betrayed and alone… And so angry the whole time…”
“You felt hurt? After what you’ve just done, you felt hurt and betrayed?” repeated Dean, barely containing his anger.
Sam shook his head quickly to make him stop and not provoke this… thing inside him again. He took a deep breath.
“No, Dean, that’s the problem… It wasn’t me.”
“What?”
“Those weren’t my feelings! I mean, it started with me being kinda pissed with you and Cas teaming up and all that, but then it grew and I… I was standing here and you were yelling and I was feeling betrayed, because I felt I was right, but you backed up dad again and you were kicking me out and…”
Dean stared at him in shock before shaking his head, patting Sam on the shoulder.
“That’s like the stupidest thing… I mean, the beginning of it was stupid,” Dean said and Sam nodded hurriedly, hoping they could somehow skip over that part. “But me backing up dad? I mean, I’m pretty sure at least that one we have behind us. And me kicking you out? Dude, that never happened, even when I was backing dad up!”
“I know… Dean, I know. But that only proves those weren’t my feelings… They weren’t about you. They were about Michael and I… I was Lucifer.”
Sam looked up, terrified to meet Dean’s watchful gaze. Apparently he looked scared enough to deserve another supportive pat on the shoulder. Dean bit his lip and turned him toward the motel room.
“Come on. We’re not gonna figure this shit out ourselves. Cas will probably be glad to hear you were just channeling one of his dick-brothers, he probably got used to them by now,” Dean shrugged casually, but Sam knew him well enough to recognize this remark for what it was.
Sam didn’t even mind, he guessed Castiel did deserve an apology. Especially since now that the rage was subsiding, Sam realized Castiel himself was never expected to apologize to him. As far as Sam knew no one invented the “I’m sorry your brother likes me more than you” cards yet.
He wondered if after the Apocalypce he could fill up this niche and make a fortune, but that thought only brought him back to the realization that he really needed to get some sleep. He felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
~
In the end, Dean took Castiel to talk with the sheriff and Gabriel stayed with Sam not only because he had no other choice, but because he was supposed to figure out what was going on with the youngest Winchester. So far, his great expertise was wasted on drinking his colorful drink and staring at Sam, who tried to do some research on their actual job. From time to time Gabriel giggled quietly, reading upside down the notes Sam made on Tricksters, but the hunter ignored him.
“You know how everyone tells us we’re so very much like Lucifer and Michael?” Sam asked casually, not turning his gaze away from the computer.
Gabriel grunted something that could be considered a confirmation.
“Are we? I mean… Whenever Lucifer speaks about himself, he makes it sound like we’re some freaking soul twins. Our motives are the same, our characters, family relations… Everything. Is it only a game?”
“No,” Gabriel answered shortly, and Sam wanted to glare at him, but was stopped by the shocked expression on the archangel’s face.
“What?”
“I… didn’t really mean to say that,” he explained slowly, sounding pretty unhappy about this new discovery. “It appears that I can’t really lie to you.”
Sam looked at him with a tired amusement.
“Wow. An archangel, pretending to be a pagan god who spends his life lying, cheating and tricking, is unable to lie to me. If that’s not just desserts, I don’t know what is. This Trickster is good.”
Gabriel glared at him, refusing to take the bait. Instead, to Sam’s surprise, he slipped back to the previous conversation.
“To answer your question, it is not entirely a game on Lucifer’s side. First of all, I think he strongly believes it’s true, so he’s not really trying to lie to you on this, although, knowing him, he does tell the story in a specific way to make it sound more fitting.
“Second of all… You are a lot like him. Proud. Stubborn. Selfish. Having a mind of your own and not being afraid to fight for what you believed, even when you’re dooming yourself along the way. You and Lucifer always thought you were doing the right thing, you know? He’s not some kind of evil monster who, from the moment he scratched his wings, planned how to make life in heaven worse. Quite the opposite actually.”
Sam stared at Gabriel, who was not only having problems with lying, but with staying quiet as well. The hunter didn’t mind. At least he could finally learn more from him and he was not going to waste the opportunity.
“But there are many things different about the two of you,” Gabriel continued. “You defied your father because you were fed up with your family’s bullshit. You wanted a life of your own. Lucifer never wanted to leave. He wanted to change things, he disagreed with dad, and he loved Him too much to believe He could care for humans more than angels. But he never wanted to leave. On some level, he was sure he was doing the right thing, that it was some kind of test and he’s the one nailing it. He was sure he was going to get rewarded, win the main prize of the show! Instead, he got cast out without any chance on redemption.”
“Harsh,” said Sam, and Gabriel huffed a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Yeah. What can I say? It’s the guy who flooded the world we’re talking about. He wasn’t exactly the cuddly type of daddy.”
Sam blinked as his mind tried to imagine being a son of God and living under His rules. Harsh seemed to be a very mild way of putting it.
“Where were you when it happened? You were already a Trickster?”
Gabriel shook his head slowly.
“I tried to calm them down at first, but they both shut me out, so I told them they were idiots and left for awhile. When I came back it was after everything went down. Nobody even noticed I was gone. I mean, dad did, but He didn’t punish me or anything. Just refused to talk to me for… some time. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t Hell’s prison locked with 666 seals. I didn’t like Heaven afterwards, but I thought we were at least past the wars. But that would have been far too simple.”
“There were more wars?” Sam asked, surprised. Gabriel started to answer, but not before glaring at the Winchester in annoyance.
Apparently Sam was right and the archangel could do nothing but tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth to all he was asked. Sam was going to use it to feed his curiosity, before he’d let Dean use it for the evil fun it begged for. It crossed his mind it’d be a good gift to cheer Dean up after the whole mess with Lucifer’s feelings in Sam’s head.
“Yeah, quite a lot of them. It could go on and on, like a Portuguese soap opera, one conflict starting another. Angels fight for jurisdiction, for power. Angels falling and making stupid things on Earth. There wasn’t an angel then who Michael didn’t fight for some reason or other. Zachariah was becoming an annoying jerk then. Uriel was getting more powerful and then he was sent to Earth. The more time he spent observing humans, the more he hated them. It wasn’t the smartest choice. I was constantly fooling myself that the wars would end. They were already used to me being the silent, passive aggressive, peace loving Michael’s little brother. The youngest angels I’ve met in heaven were created on the day of Jesus birth as a celebration. I stayed until the resurrection, mostly because I’d spent most of that time on Earth and dad was always way better to talk to when He was in the form of His human son. After I told everyone that Jesus was resurrected, I came back to heaven. I was so ridiculously happy, I couldn’t believe at first when I got back in the middle of another petty fight. I helped the fledglings to find some hiding places, even though some of the others wanted them to fight as well. Stupid, selfish SOBs. I mean, seriously, Castiel hadn’t even learned how to fly properly back then. Well, how to fly maybe, but he still was landing in a messy pulp unless Anael was there to catch him. I got them to safety and I left. Dad’s never said a word, so I figured He didn’t give a damn.”
Gabriel fell into a sad silence, staring out of the window and absentmindedly observing a married couple fighting next to their car in motel’s parking lot. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and opened his mouth to apologize for overdoing the spell, but Gabriel spoke first.
“Ask me another question and I’m going to smack you upside the head with your own laptop until you bleed from your toes.”
Sam blinked.
“Is that even possible?”
“No, but it sounds good.” He glared at Sam. “Damn it, I told you to cut it out!”
Sam laughed, but then a thought came into his mind and he looked at Gabriel. The archangel rolled his eyes, sighing.
“What?”
“Can I just… One more question, I swear.”
The deep sigh was discouraging, but then Gabriel stared back out the window and waved Sam to get on with it.
“Better now than when the whole family gathers around.”
“If I’m a bit like Lucifer… is Dean also only a little bit like Michael?”
“You’re much more like Lucifer than Dean ever was like Michael,” answered Gabriel. “Sorry. But Dean at his most daddy-dependent times was like Michael at his most relaxed ones. Michael is a delusional kid, who believes he has no free will, no free choice, and who loves it. Your brother had moments like this, fair enough, but usually, when anyone tries to order him around he does the exact opposite. Something Michael never really got. Not to mention… You’re brother is a much better older brother than Michael ever was or will be.”
Sam stared at the archangel seated next to him, but Gabriel refused to meet his eyes, stubbornly staring ahead even tough the fighting couple was long gone and there was absolutely nothing that captivating at the motel’s parking lot.
“Huh,” Sam said, unsure how to react.
“Oh, shut the hell up will ya? We all have issues. You have problems, when you can’t rebel for something good. Dean has authority issues and some fucked up mother instincts that make him want to take care of everyone around. Castiel has dependency problems. And I have a deeply buried need for a proper older brother.”
“So that’s why you like Dean so much. I thought…”
Gabriel hit his head against the table.
“Yes, dad damn it, can you get over it?” he said angrily, and suddenly sat straight up looking Sam dead in the eyes, pointing a finger at him. “And not a word about that to Castiel.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and Gabriel smiled happily.
“I found Castiel’s jealous glares adorable.”
Sam laughed before going back to his research, shaking his head. He found another page about Tricksters and started making notes. Gabriel once again found them hilarious. Sam stopped in the middle of the long sentence he was copying and sighed loudly. He minimized all the windows on his screen and opened Microsoft Word, preparing himself to write.
“Okay, Gabriel. Tell me, what do you know about Tricksters?”
“Hey! You said one last question!” yelled Gabriel shocked and irritated almost as if talking about his new identity was even worse than talking about Heaven..
Sam smiled.
“I, unlike some other creature in the room, can still lie. Spill.”
Half an hour later Sam was starting to worry that his fingers would fall off if he was forced to keep speed typing for much longer. But on the other hand, he had more information on Tricksters than he ever imagined. And all of it was 100-percent true and coming from the jinxed Trickster wanna-be himself.
This spell was really starting to grow on Sam.
~
( continued here)
Characters/Pairing(s): Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel.
Rating: R
Warnings: humor, almost-a-case-fic, jealous!sam, jealous!cas.
Spoilers/Timeline: To Changing Channels certainly, I’d say up to 5x13 to be safe.
Summary: Wrote for pledge_a_thon for bidder paper_legends who requested Gabriel under a spell of a Trickster, bounded to Winchesters and compelled to tell the truth. (The exact prompt here) Well, I tried my best.
Word Count: 12.723
Beta: kaziwren. All remained mistakes are fault of my editing.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. I even stole a title.
THEN
~
“Jerk.” Fuck you, I missed you.
“Bitch.” Same here, bro, same here.
~
“Lilith was the final seal,” Sam can hear how much his voice sounds broken, but it doesn’t stop him. Perhaps it would make him stop if his voice sounded normal. There was no place for normal now. “I killed her and I set Lucifer free.”
~
“You smell like a toilet,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose, and Dean seriously considered hugging him just to leave some of the stinking mud on him. He was just afraid it may turn into a ‘Man-I-Love-You-Where-The-Fuck-Have-You-Been?-I-Missed-You-Stupid’ kind of hug, and he was too manly, too tired, and definitely too smelly for that kind of chick-flick.
~
“I’m not drinking demon blood for kicks!”
~
“She’s a poison, Sammy! Look what she did to you!”
~
“You didn’t…” Dean asked, sounding slightly breathless. Shock and pride fight with the anger inside him.
“Oh, I did!” answered Sammy, laughing like a little kid, and Dean couldn’t even kick him under the table. It’s been ages since he’d heard that laugh.
~
“You think I will take one look at demon blood and fall right off the wagon. As if after all of this, I haven’t learned my lesson!” Sam snapped, his voice full of unrestrained anger.
“Well, have you?” Dean shot back quickly.
Sam angrily pushed Dean back.
He stopped himself when he noticed the quick look of fear in Dean’s eyes. Once upon a time, they used to push and punch each other during arguments. Now? There’s much less allowed. When you try to gain back your relationship with your brother - the one you left bleeding on a motel room floor after you beat him into pulp - even the little things change.
~
“Oh, I hate you,” groaned Sam, barely holding his head over the toilet.
“Oh, I know you do,” Dean smiled happily, deciding to ignore the urge to mock Sam into next week. There would be time for that later.
~
“You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”
~
“Trickster targets the high and mighty. Knocks them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor.”
~
“I’m over it!” Trickster said suddenly. He sounded tired and resigned, like he took something on himself that was just too big for him.
“Meaning what?” Sam, confused, asked. His voice was full of unshed tears, because Dean, Dean, Dean…
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
The hard way, as always, kiddo.
~
“So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneazy or Douchy?”
Gabriel stared at him for one whole heartbeat. Over thousands of years he imagined who’d be the one to discover his true form. Who’d be the one to hear his name again. He was momentarily tempted to say his name in Angel’s language. To sing it, while unfolding his massive wings. But that would make the Winchesters’ eyes burn and their ears bleed, and that’s not Gabriel’s style anymore.
Gabriel. The name rings in his mind like a long forgotten, but warm memory. For some reason, he realizes he hates the idea of their dirty, human ears hearing it.
“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” Or they used to, at least.
“Gabriel? The archangel?”
Gabriel smothers a snort, because that title sounds so wrong now. What he wouldn’t do to never have it in the first place.
“Guilty.”
~
NOW
~
“Hello, I’m agent Bloom, and this is my partner Agent Castellano,” said Dean, displaying in synch with Sam his fake FBI id.
He loved this part, perhaps his mind was warped by way too much X-Files while growing up, but he always strongly believed true Feds always showed theirs badges in synch.
Dean proudly smiled at the sheriff. “We’re here to talk about the murder of Mr. Dukes?”
“Yeah, it was terrible thing, I swear. I don’t really think it’s a case for the FBI, but if you guys would like to help out, it’s more than fine by me.”
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Sam, sounding even more professional than Dean. Obviously, after all, he was Scully on this team. “But after a wife of ten years stabbed her husband, saying he didn’t act like himself, and that she believed he was overpowered by something… you’re saying it’s nothing unusual?”
“Oh, it’s plenty unusual, I’ll give you that,” the Sheriff replied hastily. “But in case you didn’t notice, something unusual happens every fifteen minutes around here.”
Shuffling through papers on his desk, the Sheriff went on.
“There are reports about a bloody sky and red rivers. Dying crops and some signs of weird cults. People go crazy from all the pressure. Two days ago, a woman called us saying she thinks her child is possessed. Now I have to tell you, I know that brat, and seriously, possession would be a convenient excuse. The little bastard is vicious and greedy. It’d be an improvement if Satan himself got into him. If you know what I mean.”
Sam imagined a little, chubby boy throwing hissy fits, and decided that, yeah, he could see what the man was saying. Sure, the fallen angel always babbled on about destiny, daddy did this, and “we’re so alike let’s start a club, Sammy.” At least he never raised his voice.
Hell, trapped in the powerless body of a child Lucifer wouldn’t be that bad. Sure, a little annoying know-it-all, but not too bad at all.
Sam blinked slowly, noticing Dean’s analyzing gaze. Sam so needed to get a full night’s sleep. Musing about a kid version of Satan was proof of that. Soon, he’ll be buying the bastard lollipops to make him less evil.
Sam frowned. Did Lucifer even eat?
“Well, did you send someone there to check up on that woman and her kid?” Dean asked, trying to sound vaguely interested.
Normal FBI agents don’t assume that two people in one town acting strange may be a lead. At least not in times like this.
“We sure did. I mean, you know. Even if Adler just finally went crazy or she got fed up with her devious kid, we still needed to make sure the little devil wouldn’t get hurt or something.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully.
“And you found nothing that would suggest the stronger interference was needed?”
“Not really, no. You see the kid did act kind of strange, at least for him. He was constantly saying his mother how much he loves her and pretty much hugging her all the time. And you know, it doesn’t sound bad at all, but it was somehow like those creepy kids in horror movies, you know?”
The brothers nodded surely. Oh, yes. They did know.
“It was creepy, I’ll give you that,” sheriff said with a shrug. “But it’s not like I had any reason to interfere or arrest anybody. We warned Mrs. Adler social workers will visit her just in case, we informed them what’s going on and decided it’s better to leave it there. They should know how to handle this kind of thing, right?”
Dean nodded seriously and glanced at his brother in silent communication. Nodding again, he turned to the sheriff with a smile on his face.
“You couldn’t by any chance give as the address of this woman? Since we’re already in town, perhaps we could check up on that? We would hate if something had had happened while we’re in town, especially since as you say there’s not much for us to investigate regarding misters Dukes’ case.”
Sheriff frowned slightly, obviously not buying the idea of FBI agents wanting to do something useful they were not directly assigned to. Sam and Dean gave him small smiles, trying to look as trustworthy as possible. Personally, Dean always thought it wasn’t one of theirs best looks.
~
“Dude, this job is seriously weird,” Dean said on theirs way to Mrs. Adler’s house. “This Dukes lady snuffed her husband because he started being honest? Not to mention, why the fuck he started being a human truth pill?”
Sam shrugged.
“And now this?” Dean continued ranting. “A mother scared by her child, because it hugs her too much? Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Maybe the sheriff is right. Maybe it is some weird shock reaction. I mean, people have always acted crazy whenever there’s a suspicion the world is ending. Now it’s actually ending, so…”
“So they went bat-shit crazy for real, too?”
“I guess.”
Dean sighed at this response and turned into the street, where was standing the Adler’s house. He frowned at the image of similar looking family houses they were driving buy.
“Let’s just check up on her and see if there actually is a case here or should we live it for the shrinks,” Sam said, while Dean parked the car.
Dean tugged at his suit jacket as Sam was grabbing the file they begged out of the sheriff. If that didn’t make them look like legit social workers, probably the trustworthy looks wouldn’t help as well.
“Okay, that just feels wrong,” said Dean, readjusting his blue tie.
Sam stared at him incredulously.
“Dude! We’ve pretended to be priests!”
“Yeah, well, that was different. There are some cool priests in this world, you know? They’re not all dickheads by definition. I mean, Pastor Jim was cool, right?”
“Contrary to your beliefs, Dean, not all social workers are dickheads either,” Sam responded tiredly while slowly massaging the bridge of his nose to get ride of a growing headache.
“Yeah, well. I’ll believe it, when I’ll see it,” Dean shot back.
“Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
Both brothers jumped in surprise. Sam closed his eyes tightly at the pain that erupted when he smacked his head on the car’s ceiling. He swore quietly, which unsurprisingly echoed the same curse Dean yelped loudly.
“Cas! Don’t. Do. That!” the older Winchester hissed as he glanced in the rearview mirror at the now frowning angel in the backseat.
“You were not driving, I assumed my presence now would be acceptable.”
“Yeah, well… It’s still creepy when you suddenly join in a conversation without announcing your presence!”
Dean stopped himself and groaned. “Damn it! Now I’m talking like you!”
Castiel nodded and Dean didn’t know if the look the angel gave him said Castiel was mocking him or if he was really paying attention. Dean knew Castiel just well enough he could almost bet on the later.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I have returned from Jerusalem. I wanted to check if you required my assistance.”
Dean snorted.
“No offence, wingman, but you don’t exactly have the poker face we need when we lie to people on a job.”
Castiel nodded again, clearly accepting Dean’s assessment of his inability to lie.
Just then, Sam sucked in a pained breath and the others immediately shifted their attention to him.
“You okay, Sammy?”
“Yeah, it’s just a headache. I didn’t sleep all that well.”
When the angel began to frown, Sam wanted to scream at Castiel to at least try to be more subtle about his trust issues. With Castiel, even the slightest change in Sam’s behavior was suspicious. Sam constantly felt his brother’s, or the angel’s, gaze on him, just waiting for him to fuck up again. He could only imagine how the news that he thinks that Lucifer is messing with his sleep would play out now and thank you very much, he thinks he’s seen enough of the panic room for quite some time.
“You sure? I mean, you’re gonna be okay? If not, I could take Cas with me.”
Sure you could, Sam thought bitterly. It was good that they had someone else on their side. It was good Dean had someone else he could trust. It was just peachy with Sam how much those two had bonded when he was off cleaning tables and chit-chatting with the devil.
“If there’s a creature involved, I believe I could be of help identifying it.”
“I’m fine!” snapped Sam. He saw Dean raise his eyebrows to silently reproach him for barking at his angel.
Sam took a deep breath, calming himself slightly. “I’m fine, really. Can we go?”
Dean stared at Sam for a second or two, but he finally nodded and opened the door, telling the angel to wait for them. Castiel dutifully waited in the Impala like a faithful dog, and Sam just wanted to bitch slap him. He doubted that would do any of them any good, and his head ached far too much to consider such rapid moves.
Slowly the brothers made their way to the small house near the road. There were toys strewn all over the yard. Dean raised his eyebrows at the sheer number of them, not to mention the sandbox and slides in the side yard.
“Remind me, how many kids live here?” he murmured to Sam and his brother only smiled.
Trust Dean to be a 31-year-old man who could get jealous over a kid’s toys. Sam managed to keep his thoughts to himself as they reached the door. Dean knocked quickly and loudly, and Sam could feel the sound vibrating in his brain. He pointedly ignored Dean’s assessing glance, afraid he would snap at him, too.
“H-Hello?” said a woman in a small voice, opening the door slightly.
She was small due to her hunched stance. She seemed terrified of something, barely daring to speak up. Perhaps there was no supernatural creature in sight, but certainly something was going on here, because no one already used to having a child could look this scared from taking care of one.
Seeing the two men in suits, the woman tried to pull herself together. She ran her hand through her thick brown mess of hair.
“I… How can I help you?” she asked again.
“Hello, Mrs. Adler,” said Dean smoothly, smiling at her with his most charming smile. “My name is Jimmy Murrison and that’s my partner Lee Agnew. We’re with Social Services. The police were here recently and they were concerned about you and your son, Jack.”
Mrs. Adler nodded nervously, but made no move to let them in, nor did she say anything to make them go away. Sam was under the impression she was way past the power to resist any kind of pressure, or making her own decisions.
“May we come in?” Sam asked politely, but firmly.
She trembled slightly, obviously giving up, and she nodded quickly, opening the door wider. The brothers stepped inside behind her, looking around the house full of tossed around toys and clothes, and some broken plates. Dean looked at Sam. Yep, definitely something wrong was going on here.
Mrs. Adler took a petrified glance at one of the doors that was nailed shut and almost completely blocked by a heavy dresser. Sam looked over some photographs lying scattered on the top of it. They were full of a smiling Mrs. Adler looking much more composed, and a chubby, blond 12-year-old or so boy who just looked bored or annoyed. Actually he looked very much like every big bully Sam ever met in his colorful school career.
“That’s… That’s Jackie,” said Mrs. Adler, noticing Sam’s look. She took one of the photos, hugging it to her chest and led them to the kitchen.
“Mrs. Adler,” Dean began, “We really need to know what had happened here.”
“I… I’m not really sure. I love my Jackie. And yes, people kept telling me he’s not as perfect as I think, but he’s my son, you know? I didn’t… I couldn’t believe he’d be able to act like they were saying. I didn’t really listen to his teachers or other kids because if he could be such an angry, vicious boy, I would’ve noticed, right? I mean, I live with him. I raised him on my own. I know my son!”
“Of course, Mrs. Adler,” said Sam quickly. “I’m sure many parents feel the same way. But could you tell us what changed?”
“He… He stopped acting like himself. It started small. I asked him how school went and he said he never went anymore. And you know, what kid doesn’t only skips school, but also talks about it? Then he kept acting nastier and nastier, just like everyone kept telling me. He started calling me names. He had outbursts of anger and then he’d start crying and hugging me and telling he loved me over and over again! I swear, I can’t tell you this properly, so you’ll understand how weird it was, how it kept on creeping me out! I was so scared. I had to do this. I had to!” she sobbed and both brothers looked even more alarmed.
“What did you do Mrs. Adler? What…” asked Dean, but his question was interrupted by a loud yell coming from behind the barricaded door.
“Mom! MOM! Is someone out there? Who did you let in, you stupid bitch? MOM, PLEASE LET ME OUT! I’m scared! MOM!”
The woman sobbed again and Sam sighed, somewhat relieved. At least the kid was still alive.
“I’ll stay with her,” said Dean, looking at Sam who felt his headache was brutally reminding him of its existence due to the shouting and loud smashing noises coming from the basement. “You go get Cas. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on here.”
Sam wanted to mention they’d so far managed to live without the angelic help, or how if Dean was so dependent on it now, maybe it was smarter to bring Castiel along in the first place. It crossed his mind that if Castiel was so much more use than him, maybe he should have stayed in the car as the watchdog. And seriously, didn’t this angel have anything better to do than sit around waiting for Dean’s orders?
In the end he satisfied himself with slamming the door with more gusto than was strictly necessary.
~
“A trickster? Are you sure?” Sam asked, not sounding convinced.
They were back at the motel, with Sam seated by a table tired and grumpy, and Dean pacing with nervous energy. It was actually slightly less annoying than the angel standing still like a sculpture in the middle of the room. Only Castiel’s eyes followed Dean around with one of the less intense of his gazes.
“Yeah,” said Dean, shrugging. “I guess in some ways it makes sense. I mean, there’s mention of some candy wrappers in Duke’s apartment and perhaps there were some at Adlers', too. But with the mess the kid made and the amount of food he can stuff down, we’ll never know. And both of the victims were total dicks who appeared nice and suddenly couldn’t lie at all. Just desserts or what? And Cas sensed the Trickster magic at the Adlers’ house.”
Castiel noddes at this statement and Dean nodded back, looking at him with some weird communication that maybe is completely obvious when you’re a part of it, but Sam wasn’t, so it just pissed him off. And seriously, since when was Castiel’s opinion the final one? Apparently since now, because Dean somehow communicated to him it’s time to start the ritual, and Castiel was already moving. He began writing some symbols on the small table on the other side of the room. Sam supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had glared at the angel when he so much as glanced at Sam. Well, actually Sam was glaring at Castiel for a while, but that was when the angel finally caught on.
“It’s ridiculous,” Sam said, and Dean at least turned his head to him, while Castiel kept on going through the ritual without as much as a glance of acknowledgment. “I thought we decided the Trickster is trying to help us out now. Why the hell would he do any of this?”
Dean shrugged.
“Who knows? It’s not like he sticks with us all the time. Maybe he’s still tricking on the side. And if he’s as much on our side as you seem sure he is, then we can yank him here and tell him to stop before some other dick gets killed.”
Sam looked up at him, hiding a smile, and Dean makes a face.
“Hilarious, Samantha. If anything, you’d be the one suffering. He likes you more.”
“He does not! You’re the one who laughs with him all the time.”
“Oh, puh-lease. He killed me more times than even you could count!” the older Winchester mock whined, smiling brighter when he noticed that Castiel was listening carefully but frowning more, clearly not understanding the conversation.
“He gave me herpies!”
Dean moved his eyebrows meaningfully and was rewarded with one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. He’d missed those lately. Dean opened his mouth to explain to Sam exactly how herpies can be the sign of looooove, but Castiel started reciting in Enochian or some other ancient language, calling to his brother over the fire of the thick, yellow candle.
The moment Castiel finished all five of the candles he set up suddenly stopped burning as if someone had managed to blow them out at the same time, or more likely, as if they suddenly had no air around them to burn anymore. Not even a weak wisp of smoke rose from any of them. Both brothers stared at them fixedly, while Castiel slowly looked up and met the eyes of his brother standing on the other side of the round table.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel rasped and Winchesters’ heads snapped up to look at the archangel.
“Hi, kiddo. Bother to tell me why the emergency call? I could’ve been busy, you know?”
“Then you’d refuse the summoning, obviously.”
Gabriel sighed as if Castiel failed to understand some unspoken but well-known rule of the angel communication.
“If you’re using the emergency line, how can I be sure you’re not bleeding to death on the other end? I swear, Cas, one of this days, you will cry wolf and nobody will pay attention.”
Castiel frowned, not understanding.
“If I were close to my death, I would not be able to complete the ritual,” he finally said and Gabriel rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful.
“The point is: short of emergencies, avoid the rituals, Cas.”
“I needed to contact you,” said the younger angel quickly, but Gabriel only made a phone sign and mouthed ‘call me’ to him.
Dean snorted, obviously unable to handle this particular angel conversation, and this time Sam didn’t blame him.
“What’s up dunderheads?” asked Gabriel, looking at the amused Winchesters. “Missed me already? Get a life. More importantly, get laid.”
“We came upon a Trickster, and we were wondering if it wasn’t you,” said Castiel.
Sam watched as the archangel leveled a glance upon his younger brother. There was so much disbelieving disappointment in that gaze Sam could only feel smug. From the beginning he'd been saying it was a stupid idea.
“You thought I chose your losing side over Lucifer and Michael just to end up killing you on a simple hunt? As a pagan god?” he asked angrily and Castiel looked away, embarrassed.
“No, we thought you still liked to screw with people and we came upon you accidentally,” explained Dean, quickly covering for his angel friend. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you still love screwing with people.”
“Oh, please. I’ve been here long enough to be past simple prejudice. I screw with everything that’s good at it,” answered Gabriel in a lighter tone, winking at Dean, who almost didn’t manage to keep a straight face. “But I think I’d see you morons coming and tell you what’s going on instead of fighting you. Not to mention Castiel should recognize my handiwork.”
“I cannot… sense your Trickster abilities as yours,” explained Castiel quietly, obviously ashamed of his limited powers. Gabriel only nodded.
“Well, sorry kittens. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to spend a lovely evening away from your silly humanity,” Gabriel said with a smirk before trying to disappear.
Castiel frowned and Dean raised his eyebrows surprised.
“You know, that whole ‘I already went away and came back’ shit is useful only when you can’t actually disappear?” asked the older Winchester and Gabriel managed to glare at him through his confusion.
“I… I can’t leave.”
There was a dead silence in the room. Dean started yet another silent conversation with Castiel, but the angel’s shocked eyes and shaking head were clear signs to everyone to pick up. He had no more idea what’s going on than them, and he sure as hell was not responsible.
“Huh,” summed up Sam intelligently. “I guess it is kind of a Trickster after all.”
“Yeah,” agreed Dean with a maniac grin on his face. “And I’m not the dickiest dick in town!”
Sam for the first time in a long time felt the happy, surprised laughter bubbling in him and when Dean looked back at him with mirth in his eyes, he let that laugh out, feeling the pain in his head finally ease off.
~
The archangel stood obediently while Castiel circled him, murmuring some spells, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Gabriel was allowing this fussing without a comment only because he was too busy swearing under his breath and promising an eternity of pain to the creature responsible. The Winchesters were both fighting grins and Sam was under impression it was one of those ‘it’s fun, because it’s not us’ kind of situations. He didn’t mind, for once, it was them laughing.
“I’m going to rip his spirit to shreds and throw it all across this universe and several more, the stupid little son of a pagan god and sacrificial goat.”
Dean snorted, unable to stop himself and Gabriel glared at him, quick and sharp. Dangerous and intense. He was close to getting an aneurysm from trying to use the powers he no longer possessed.
“If you had any brain left in your skull, you’d understand why this is not funny in the slightest,” Gabriel growled. “This thing is far too powerful for any one of us to be happy about!”
“Yes,” agreed Castiel gravely. “Tricksters more powerful than angels are truly a great irritation.”
Gabriel, surprised, looked back at his brother, watching the corners of his mouth tremble as Dean roared with laughter. Sam tried to stifle his chuckles, but didn’t make a great job of it, judging by Gabriel’s patented ‘I’m surrounded by idiots’ eye-roll.
“Did you by any chance find out something more useful than your sense of humor, while you were at it?”
The serious nod was probably a sign that there was still a long road for Castiel before he could claim he had indeed found his sense of humor.
“I still believe it is a Trickster. It’s unknown why he managed to tie you with his spell so powerfully, but I believe it is quite possible he didn’t take all of your powers away. Could you try something?”
The archangel raised his eyebrows. He snapped his fingers and smiled at the sight of a colorful drink, complete with an umbrella and a straw, in his hand. He took a slow sip, while Castiel frowned, deep in thought.
“Well, if it all fails, you can still be a bartender,” smiled Dean, and Gabriel sighed tiredly.
The younger angel nodded to himself, looking closely at the archangel and then the space between him and the Winchesters as if he was following something invisible to human’s eyes.
“Yes, I believe most of your powers are actually still at your disposal, they’re only limited, because of your bond with Sam.”
“My what?!”
“Apparently part of the spell put on you is a bond between you and Sam. You can’t leave him and your powers are somehow limited due to his willingness of you using them. I think there are also some other side effects of this spell, but right now I can’t determine what they are.”
Both Sam and Gabriel stared at Castiel as he calmly explained the ridiculous spell. Gabriel started muttering again and Sam fought the urge to join in. Dean was grinning openly and only muttered ‘herpes love’, when Sam turned to glare at him.
“Well, since we’re back to hunting a Trickster, I guess we should go back to talk with the police. Maybe we’ll…”
“We should call Mrs. Adler, check if anything got better,” said Sam and Dean nodded in agreement.
“You do that and start on the research. You know, maybe they all had more in common than being dicks. I’m going to talk with the sheriff, Cas can tag along. Maybe he’ll sense something.”
“What? No! Why the hell am I staying here? It makes no sense and you’ll only make the guy suspicious if you suddenly appear with a new guy!”
Dean looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head, but Sam had had enough for one day. It was one thing to be unsure which one of them Dean was going to leave in the car as a guard dog, and quite another to be left alone with a dick of an archangel under some weird spell.
“Well, don’t you think it’ll make him more suspicious if we appear with two new guys? And it’s not like you can ditch Gabe anytime soon.”
Sam huffed angrily. Since when was tagging along with an angel barely holding on to his powers a smarter move than taking an archangel with them? And come to think of it, since when was said archangel known as ‘Gabe’? Did Dean seriously have problems with words longer than one syllable? Next time they find a lead on Lucifer, he’s going to become Lu, for God’s sake!
“And why the hell can’t we just take Gabriel? Cas can wait in the car like your faithful mascot, or I don’t know, fly away to look for God or whatever he does in his free time!”
Sam could hear the blood pumping through his body, the quickened echo of his pulse in his head. The rage bubbled in him, clenching his fists and making his head ache as if it was going to burst through his skull. He took a deep breath and tasted all the anger, jealousy, and pain stuck in his throat. His eyes watered as he was suffocating underneath it. He got up and almost ran from the room before Dean managed to respond.
He stepped out, half-heartedly pushing at the door, knowing it wouldn’t stay closed for long. He managed to bend over the railing and gulped a mouthful of air, when Dean stepped out after him. His whole posture screamed of anger, shock, and disappointment.
Flagstaff. Stanford. Dad. Ruby. Sam knew that particular mix very well. So well, in fact, he was somehow surprised he still could cause it. Apparently his brother still didn’t automatically expect the worst from him. Sam wasn’t sure if that was a comforting thought.
“Are you fucking serious? First, you stupid son of a bitch, we can’t take Gabriel because he’s under a fucking spell! If this Trickster managed to keep Gabriel’s annoying ass in place, he’s probably thought of a way to hide from him! Second of all, what the hell do you get off saying things like that to Cas? Seriously, I know you’re a heartless dick some of the time, but once upon a time you were running all over the place trying to find dad as well. You think you can back the fuck off slightly? The guy is obviously not taking this all too well! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I- I don’t know,” gasped out Sam, his voice weak and on the edge of tears.
He could feel Dean’s anger slipping into him and he knew his brother was right. He recognized the sound logic he’d somehow managed to avoid for some time and he felt a little stupid. But he also felt betrayed, sad and so alone. And the scariest thing was that those feelings didn’t even feel like his.
Dean quickly came closer, putting one hand on Sam’s arm while the other held his face up. His anger was hidden behind a thick wall of concern. Sam swallowed hard, trying to push down all the irrational sadness. He put his face on Dean’s shoulder, hugging him awkwardly. Sam wanted to reassure himself he’s not being left alone, he’s not going to be cast out just yet. He wanted to show Dean he’s not okay without the words that seemed to fail him.
One of Dean’s arms went around him, hugging him as if trying to keep Sam together and sane. Sam deeply breathed in the smell of his big brother, who was always there and he thought it might actually be working. Dean allowed him a few more seconds to collect himself. He didn’t let go, even when some woman whistled at them from the motel’s parking lot. Dean just sighed, resigned, and judging by the flexing of the muscles in his arm, Sam was pretty sure he’d flipped her off.
The younger Winchester stifled a wet chuckle in his brother’s arm at that.
“Okay, dude? You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Dean’s steady voice breaking the silence.
“Sorry,” murmured Sam, but he didn’t move until Dean nudged him with a painful elbow to his ribs.
“Seriously, end the octopus dance and speak the fuck up.”
“I- I don’t know what’s going on, Dean. I was getting more and more pissed the whole day, my head was fucking killing me.”
“And what? You snapped?”
“No, no… I mean, it wasn’t like that. I suddenly felt this rage finally, yes, snapping, I guess. And then I felt so hurt and betrayed and alone… And so angry the whole time…”
“You felt hurt? After what you’ve just done, you felt hurt and betrayed?” repeated Dean, barely containing his anger.
Sam shook his head quickly to make him stop and not provoke this… thing inside him again. He took a deep breath.
“No, Dean, that’s the problem… It wasn’t me.”
“What?”
“Those weren’t my feelings! I mean, it started with me being kinda pissed with you and Cas teaming up and all that, but then it grew and I… I was standing here and you were yelling and I was feeling betrayed, because I felt I was right, but you backed up dad again and you were kicking me out and…”
Dean stared at him in shock before shaking his head, patting Sam on the shoulder.
“That’s like the stupidest thing… I mean, the beginning of it was stupid,” Dean said and Sam nodded hurriedly, hoping they could somehow skip over that part. “But me backing up dad? I mean, I’m pretty sure at least that one we have behind us. And me kicking you out? Dude, that never happened, even when I was backing dad up!”
“I know… Dean, I know. But that only proves those weren’t my feelings… They weren’t about you. They were about Michael and I… I was Lucifer.”
Sam looked up, terrified to meet Dean’s watchful gaze. Apparently he looked scared enough to deserve another supportive pat on the shoulder. Dean bit his lip and turned him toward the motel room.
“Come on. We’re not gonna figure this shit out ourselves. Cas will probably be glad to hear you were just channeling one of his dick-brothers, he probably got used to them by now,” Dean shrugged casually, but Sam knew him well enough to recognize this remark for what it was.
Sam didn’t even mind, he guessed Castiel did deserve an apology. Especially since now that the rage was subsiding, Sam realized Castiel himself was never expected to apologize to him. As far as Sam knew no one invented the “I’m sorry your brother likes me more than you” cards yet.
He wondered if after the Apocalypce he could fill up this niche and make a fortune, but that thought only brought him back to the realization that he really needed to get some sleep. He felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
~
In the end, Dean took Castiel to talk with the sheriff and Gabriel stayed with Sam not only because he had no other choice, but because he was supposed to figure out what was going on with the youngest Winchester. So far, his great expertise was wasted on drinking his colorful drink and staring at Sam, who tried to do some research on their actual job. From time to time Gabriel giggled quietly, reading upside down the notes Sam made on Tricksters, but the hunter ignored him.
“You know how everyone tells us we’re so very much like Lucifer and Michael?” Sam asked casually, not turning his gaze away from the computer.
Gabriel grunted something that could be considered a confirmation.
“Are we? I mean… Whenever Lucifer speaks about himself, he makes it sound like we’re some freaking soul twins. Our motives are the same, our characters, family relations… Everything. Is it only a game?”
“No,” Gabriel answered shortly, and Sam wanted to glare at him, but was stopped by the shocked expression on the archangel’s face.
“What?”
“I… didn’t really mean to say that,” he explained slowly, sounding pretty unhappy about this new discovery. “It appears that I can’t really lie to you.”
Sam looked at him with a tired amusement.
“Wow. An archangel, pretending to be a pagan god who spends his life lying, cheating and tricking, is unable to lie to me. If that’s not just desserts, I don’t know what is. This Trickster is good.”
Gabriel glared at him, refusing to take the bait. Instead, to Sam’s surprise, he slipped back to the previous conversation.
“To answer your question, it is not entirely a game on Lucifer’s side. First of all, I think he strongly believes it’s true, so he’s not really trying to lie to you on this, although, knowing him, he does tell the story in a specific way to make it sound more fitting.
“Second of all… You are a lot like him. Proud. Stubborn. Selfish. Having a mind of your own and not being afraid to fight for what you believed, even when you’re dooming yourself along the way. You and Lucifer always thought you were doing the right thing, you know? He’s not some kind of evil monster who, from the moment he scratched his wings, planned how to make life in heaven worse. Quite the opposite actually.”
Sam stared at Gabriel, who was not only having problems with lying, but with staying quiet as well. The hunter didn’t mind. At least he could finally learn more from him and he was not going to waste the opportunity.
“But there are many things different about the two of you,” Gabriel continued. “You defied your father because you were fed up with your family’s bullshit. You wanted a life of your own. Lucifer never wanted to leave. He wanted to change things, he disagreed with dad, and he loved Him too much to believe He could care for humans more than angels. But he never wanted to leave. On some level, he was sure he was doing the right thing, that it was some kind of test and he’s the one nailing it. He was sure he was going to get rewarded, win the main prize of the show! Instead, he got cast out without any chance on redemption.”
“Harsh,” said Sam, and Gabriel huffed a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Yeah. What can I say? It’s the guy who flooded the world we’re talking about. He wasn’t exactly the cuddly type of daddy.”
Sam blinked as his mind tried to imagine being a son of God and living under His rules. Harsh seemed to be a very mild way of putting it.
“Where were you when it happened? You were already a Trickster?”
Gabriel shook his head slowly.
“I tried to calm them down at first, but they both shut me out, so I told them they were idiots and left for awhile. When I came back it was after everything went down. Nobody even noticed I was gone. I mean, dad did, but He didn’t punish me or anything. Just refused to talk to me for… some time. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t Hell’s prison locked with 666 seals. I didn’t like Heaven afterwards, but I thought we were at least past the wars. But that would have been far too simple.”
“There were more wars?” Sam asked, surprised. Gabriel started to answer, but not before glaring at the Winchester in annoyance.
Apparently Sam was right and the archangel could do nothing but tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth to all he was asked. Sam was going to use it to feed his curiosity, before he’d let Dean use it for the evil fun it begged for. It crossed his mind it’d be a good gift to cheer Dean up after the whole mess with Lucifer’s feelings in Sam’s head.
“Yeah, quite a lot of them. It could go on and on, like a Portuguese soap opera, one conflict starting another. Angels fight for jurisdiction, for power. Angels falling and making stupid things on Earth. There wasn’t an angel then who Michael didn’t fight for some reason or other. Zachariah was becoming an annoying jerk then. Uriel was getting more powerful and then he was sent to Earth. The more time he spent observing humans, the more he hated them. It wasn’t the smartest choice. I was constantly fooling myself that the wars would end. They were already used to me being the silent, passive aggressive, peace loving Michael’s little brother. The youngest angels I’ve met in heaven were created on the day of Jesus birth as a celebration. I stayed until the resurrection, mostly because I’d spent most of that time on Earth and dad was always way better to talk to when He was in the form of His human son. After I told everyone that Jesus was resurrected, I came back to heaven. I was so ridiculously happy, I couldn’t believe at first when I got back in the middle of another petty fight. I helped the fledglings to find some hiding places, even though some of the others wanted them to fight as well. Stupid, selfish SOBs. I mean, seriously, Castiel hadn’t even learned how to fly properly back then. Well, how to fly maybe, but he still was landing in a messy pulp unless Anael was there to catch him. I got them to safety and I left. Dad’s never said a word, so I figured He didn’t give a damn.”
Gabriel fell into a sad silence, staring out of the window and absentmindedly observing a married couple fighting next to their car in motel’s parking lot. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and opened his mouth to apologize for overdoing the spell, but Gabriel spoke first.
“Ask me another question and I’m going to smack you upside the head with your own laptop until you bleed from your toes.”
Sam blinked.
“Is that even possible?”
“No, but it sounds good.” He glared at Sam. “Damn it, I told you to cut it out!”
Sam laughed, but then a thought came into his mind and he looked at Gabriel. The archangel rolled his eyes, sighing.
“What?”
“Can I just… One more question, I swear.”
The deep sigh was discouraging, but then Gabriel stared back out the window and waved Sam to get on with it.
“Better now than when the whole family gathers around.”
“If I’m a bit like Lucifer… is Dean also only a little bit like Michael?”
“You’re much more like Lucifer than Dean ever was like Michael,” answered Gabriel. “Sorry. But Dean at his most daddy-dependent times was like Michael at his most relaxed ones. Michael is a delusional kid, who believes he has no free will, no free choice, and who loves it. Your brother had moments like this, fair enough, but usually, when anyone tries to order him around he does the exact opposite. Something Michael never really got. Not to mention… You’re brother is a much better older brother than Michael ever was or will be.”
Sam stared at the archangel seated next to him, but Gabriel refused to meet his eyes, stubbornly staring ahead even tough the fighting couple was long gone and there was absolutely nothing that captivating at the motel’s parking lot.
“Huh,” Sam said, unsure how to react.
“Oh, shut the hell up will ya? We all have issues. You have problems, when you can’t rebel for something good. Dean has authority issues and some fucked up mother instincts that make him want to take care of everyone around. Castiel has dependency problems. And I have a deeply buried need for a proper older brother.”
“So that’s why you like Dean so much. I thought…”
Gabriel hit his head against the table.
“Yes, dad damn it, can you get over it?” he said angrily, and suddenly sat straight up looking Sam dead in the eyes, pointing a finger at him. “And not a word about that to Castiel.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and Gabriel smiled happily.
“I found Castiel’s jealous glares adorable.”
Sam laughed before going back to his research, shaking his head. He found another page about Tricksters and started making notes. Gabriel once again found them hilarious. Sam stopped in the middle of the long sentence he was copying and sighed loudly. He minimized all the windows on his screen and opened Microsoft Word, preparing himself to write.
“Okay, Gabriel. Tell me, what do you know about Tricksters?”
“Hey! You said one last question!” yelled Gabriel shocked and irritated almost as if talking about his new identity was even worse than talking about Heaven..
Sam smiled.
“I, unlike some other creature in the room, can still lie. Spill.”
Half an hour later Sam was starting to worry that his fingers would fall off if he was forced to keep speed typing for much longer. But on the other hand, he had more information on Tricksters than he ever imagined. And all of it was 100-percent true and coming from the jinxed Trickster wanna-be himself.
This spell was really starting to grow on Sam.
~
( continued here)