I would’t say it was inspired by but it can be augmented withthis song. Also, this has not been beta’d so there may be a tense switch or two.
Sam looked down at the faint scar in his palm and rubbed it absently. A million thoughts ran through his head while everyone slept soundly in their rooms. He hated having insomnia but sometimes the dreams would wake him or he just couldn’t get his mind to slow down enough to stay asleep. Tonight it was the nightmares.
He was deep enough in his head that he didn’t hear Gabriel pad into the library. The angel paused for a brief moment before sitting beside him, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“They aren’t worth that much,” Sam’s shoulders straightened, hands ducking below the table to hide them from Gabriel, “What about you? Feeling better?”
Gabriel pursed his lips for a moment, then popped them, “I have feeling back in the ol’ smackers. Another day and I should be able to play a trumpet again.”
Sam snorted, amused at the trumpet comment because he’d read the lore on Gabriel, including his horn. Now he had a mental image of the angel jamming with Charlie Parker. Then he briefly wondered if Gabriel’s horn wasn’t a horn but really an Oboe. In true insomnia fashion, Sam’s brain came up with the dirtiest joke he’d ever thought of in connection to ‘Gabriel’s Oboe’, “Long. Thin. And if you blow it long enough you’ll have a stroke,” he said outloud, then clapped his hand over his mouth when he realized what he’d done.
Gabriel stopped moving. Staring at Sam in disbelief and then breaking out in a deep belly laugh. “Oh, Sammy. Do I even want to know?”
Blushing fiercely, Sam avoided looking at Gabriel when he gave his answer, “I was thinking about you playing an oboe.”
“An Oboe?” Gabriel laughed, “I won’t go near a double reed. It’s like fellatiating a bamboo stick. Now I prefer a nice woodwind or brass.“
Now it was Sam’s turn to stare at the Archangel and then start to giggle.
Gabriel reached over and ran his fingers through the hair at Sam’s temples, noting a few stray gray hairs already showing through the chestnut, "You’re exhausted, Kiddo. Get some sleep.”
“Can’t,” Sam sighed, “I keep dreaming about… everything. And it’s better if I stay awake. That way he can’t come for me.”
“Who? Who’s going to get you?” Gabriel asked softly, not wanting to startle Sam or make him shut down. Something he’d noticed both Winchester’s doing when things got to serious in a conversation about their feelings.
“Dad,” Sam whispered hesitantly, “but not Dad. Lucifer wearing him and then we’re in the cage-” Sam’s voice choked off like someone had cut off the air and replaced it with a small sob. Taking a second to collect himself, he drags a fingernail over his scarred palm, "he’s torturing me… and Dad’s just smiling down, covered in my blood. Whispering terrible things the whole time. Not good enough. Weak….. abomination.“
Gabriel’s heart broke as he listened to every word this human said. He’d seen a glimpse into Sam’s soul and marveled at how bright it was even with the fissures of pain making it look like marble instead of glass. Blinking away the tears of shame for what his family had put this boy through, Gabriel wrapped his arms around the gentle giant, holding him close.
At first Sam struggled against the hug, but when he heard Gabriel shushing him and felt a hand stroking over his hair, he melted into it. Opening up in a way he would never do with Dean because his brother would probably brush it off or tell him to suck it up. Sam’s breathing became more ragged with every draw until he was weeping into Gabriel’s shoulder, clutching at the angel like he was the last life preserver on the Titanic.
Gabriel was patient. He’d raised young angels. Hide from his family for centuries and watched stars be born and die out, but nothing was harder to wait out than a man in this much pain. Even thought it was hard, he waited and offered what comfort he could. After a while Sam calmed down but didn’t bother to move from Gabriel’s arms. The human was so touch starved that Gabriel contemplated smacking the hell out of Dean in the morning for neglecting the sibling he swore to take care of.
Taking a deep breath, Gabriel whispered to him, "Come on, Sam. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll stay and tell you about my horn. Maybe if we’re lucky I can keep your monsters away and maybe you’ll scare a few of mine along the way.”
Summary: They’d become fluent in the unspoken language of lovers who couldn’t proclaim their devotion in public. Everything they felt was said in silence, communicated through gestures and codes. Gabriel hated it with a passion. Warnings: Brief incident of homophobia
Aesthetic created by the awe-inspiring @lacqueluster
June Entry for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge Dialogue Prompt: “All I know is one of us is right and
the other one is you.” This was also heavily
inspired by ANZ Australia’s #HoldTight ad campaign.
Notes: Would anyone be interested in a companion fic to this?
He was never going to die. Never going to stop feeling sharp hunger pains in his stomach, never not going to feel his own blood sliding down his skin. Never going to get rid of wires sealing his lips shut so he couldn’t even scream out his agony. It was a fact he was slowly resigning himself to.
Then his cell door opened.
His cell door never opened, not even when they fed him. They just shoved the food through a slot in the door. It usually didn’t land anywhere near him, forcing him to crawl forward as far as his chains would let him and eat off the floor like a dog. (He hadn’t eaten in a while. The wire got in the way.) Even when they tortured him, they knocked him out with magic so they could move him to the room with all the weapons without letting him learn the layout of the place and possibly plan his escape.
“Gabriel?”
Gabriel raised his head, muscles screaming in protest, and squinted through the blood in his eyes. Whoever it was was so tall and broad they blocked most of the light that came through the open door. God, he couldn’t even see their soul. He almost wept.
The person approached Gabriel and he didn’t even bother to flinch, just let his head drop forward and closed his eyes. The person didn’t draw on his skin with a knife or sow wires into his skin, though. They were doing something with his chains – taking them off? Were they going to move him somewhere? The chains clattered against the stone bench Gabriel sat on. The person squatted down to take off the chains around his ankles.
They stood up and picked him up like he was a rag doll. Their shirt was too rough on his skin and their hands were too tight on his wounds. Gabriel’s head lolled back and he tried to moan pitifully, but between the wires in his lips and the dried blood gluing them together, no noise came out.
Read the rest on AO3 (because it’s apparently too long for tumblr mobile to handle and I can’t post it from my laptop at the moment).
I remember this snippet. I wrote it after a talk with @theriverscribe one day. I don’t remember what we were talking about, I just know it spawned this Loki – Gabriel – Sam weird fic idea with this:
“Can’t you see what you’re doing to him? That boy out there
is so damn convinced he’s worth nothing.”
Loki snarled out. He took a furious step towards Gabriel and jabbed a finger at
him. “You helped make him like that. Instead of growing a damn pair of balls
and stepping up to the plate, you’ve been hurting him just as much as everyone
else. He’s our mate! You’re supposed to be protecting
him!”
“Now wait just a …”
Loki didn’t even look at Dean as he pointed a finger his
way. “Don’t you even start with me, boy.
You’re just as guilty as he is, here.” He brought his hand back and then
surprised them by using it to shove Gabriel back a step. “Quit being such a
damn coward!”
This time it was Gabriel who was snarling. “Back off.” Power flashed, hot and dark
in his eyes. “Our timelines aren’t the same and you know it. Just because you
got your happy ending with your Sam doesn’t mean anything for this timeline.”
“Are you sure about that? Or is that just what you’re afraid
of?” Loki shot back. He crossed his arms over his chest and never once stopped
glaring. “I’ve half a mind to scoop him up and take him back with me. My Sammy
wouldn’t mind. At least there he’d be appreciated and cared for instead of
ridiculed and tortured.” The flash of power in Gabriel’s eyes at that only made
Loki let out a huff of breath that might’ve been a laugh. It certainly made his
grin a bit more smug.
Dean, however, had finally had enough. “You’re not taking my
brother!”
When Loki turned to him, his eyes were cold. One eyebrow was
arched up in a look of disbelief. “Oh, now
you care?”
“Of course I care. He’s my brother!”
“Then act like it.”
The venomous look that Loki gave them all had the whole room going silent. Even
Gabriel was still, watching carefully as his alternate self practically hissed
his fury at them. Shaking his head, Loki looked back and forth between them
all. “Do any of you even see how bad he has it? How depressed he is? He’s
taking freaking anti-anxiety meds, for Dad’s sake! He barely makes it through a
day with them, let alone what it’d be like without them!”
“He’s on meds? Since when?”
“Since the asylum you dumped him in when Lucifer was ripping
apart his head.” Loki snapped. His lip curled up in a sneer at Dean’s stunned
look. “Yeah, I know about that. They might not have been able to help against
big bro, but they helped him with other things. He’s been on a few different
meds since then. You might’ve noticed it if you’d paid any attention.” Then he
turned his sharp glare on the surprisingly quiet Gabriel. “You should’ve noticed. Your mate’s
depressed, suffering from anxiety attacks, and so damn touch starved it makes
my grace scream just being near him.
Why do you think I keep reaching out to touch him? His soul is begging for it
and every time he tries to get some he’s rebuffed. None of you can even let me
touch him casually without trying to take it away from him somehow.”
He saw Dean start to open his mouth and quickly cut off what
he was going to say. “Don’t even say it. When are you going to realize that
Sam’s not like you?” Loki demanded. “He can’t supplement touch by going out and
banging random bar babes like you can, Deano. He’s demisexual. He literally cannot get it up without an emotional
connection. That’s just now how his brain works. Not to mention, he’s pretty
head over heels in love with you, you
giant ass.” That, he directed at
Gabriel, seeming satisfied with the way it made him flinch. “In the three days
that I’ve been here, the only time I’ve seen anyone but me actually touch him
was when you shook him awake at the library table, Dean. Other than that,
nothing. And when I try and do it, you make him feel like it’s bad or wrong or
dirty. If you guys want to kill him so badly, hand him a gun. It’s a lot
faster, and I guarantee you, he won’t have a problem doing it.”
With that last little bomb, Loki vanished from the room with
a loud crack that echoed even after he was gone.
HOLY SHIT WHAT CONVERSATION DID WE HAVE THAT RESULTED IN THIS?? I NEED TO KNOW SO I CAN SAY IT ALL AGAIN BECAUSE I REEEEALLY NEED MUCH MUCH MORE OF THIS FIC ASAP!!!!
I have no idea! I just know that we were talking, cause in my notes it even said “…after talking with River…”
There’s more scene clips in that file, too….
Like:
Loki was sitting on the stone wall and there, curled up
against him, was Sam. Only, it wasn’t the silent Sam that Gabriel had grown
used to seeing. This wasn’t the strong, unbreakable hunter that the rest of the
world got to see. This – this was heartbreaking. Sam was standing between
Loki’s legs with his arms around Loki’s waist and his head against the other
archangel’s shoulder. The way he was curled in on himself, how his shoulders
were shaking, it made Gabriel want to reach out and soothe him. He’d never seen
Sam break like this before.
Over Sam’s shoulder, Loki lifted burning eyes and let them
lock right on Gabriel. He held his gaze as he stroked one hand over Sam’s back
and slid the other hand into the hunter’s hair. When he spoke it was in a low
voice that was just loud enough for Gabriel’s angelic hearing to pick up on.
“It’s okay, Sammy. You’re okay. Go ahead and let it out, I’ve got you.” His
tone was in complete contrast with his furious eyes. When he spoke, his voice
was soft and gentle, soothing. His gaze was the exact opposite.
“S-Sorry.” Sam stammered out. His hands clenched in the
sides of Loki’s jacket like he was afraid the being was going to pull away.
Still, he continued to try and apologize. “S-Sorry… I don’t… I…”
Loki shushed him softly. “I told you, Sammy, you’re fine. I
got you, sweetheart. I’m right here and I’ve got you.” The power in his eyes
flashed, darker and more dangerous. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let them hurt
you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The way that Loki was looking at him made it clear just what
he thought of Gabriel in that moment. It should’ve been him over there making Sam feel better. He should’ve been the one to
come out here after him. To talk him through the anxiety attack he’d obviously
had. He should’ve been the one holding him and protecting him from a world that
seemed to only want to keep kicking him back down each time he tried to get
back up.
Or:
“Why wouldn’t he…”
“When have you ever given him reason to think it’d be safe
to do so?” Loki asked quietly.
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You guys did a lot of damage, I’m not gonna lie.” The words
were blunt, yet they were true, and Gabriel knew it. “If you really want to try
and fix this with him, it’s not gonna be easy. He doesn’t see this as you
pushing him away. He hasn’t even entertained the thought of you having feelings
for him. Sam’s pretty much convinced himself that you see him as just as much
an abomination as the rest of the angels do. Too dirty to even be worth being
friends with, let alone anything more. Every time you pulled back from touching
him, he blamed it on him being too dirty for you to want to sully your hands
on.”
Gabriel’s grace throbbed
at that. No. How could Sam think
that?
“Every angel he meets treats him like he’s dirt. The
abomination, the boy king, the boy with the demon blood. Even Castiel thought
like that. In Sam’s eyes, he’s pretty sure the seraph still does.”
“Cas cares about him.”
“Yeah, I can really tell.” Loki said, snorting. “He cares so
much, he pulled Sam out of hell and didn’t even realize his soul wasn’t there.
He broke the wall in Sam’s mind and put him through hell all over again just to
keep Dean from coming after him. He ignored him for a whole year and only came
running after that when Dean called him. Yeah, I can really see the caring in
that. Where exactly is Sam supposed to see anything other than someone who
tolerates him simply because he’s related to Dean?”
Sam couldn’t help how he stared at the man standing there in
front of them. They’d seen so much over the years, been through so many things.
Deaths and resurrections and everything in between the two. Yet still none of
it had prepared him for seeing his father standing there in the middle of
Bobby’s kitchen looking just the same as he had all those years ago before
they’d lost him. Somehow even though Sam was older his Dad still looked just as
big and just as powerful as he always had. Sam had seen true power since then –
he’d seen archangels who could smite him with just a thought. He’d been to hell
and suffered torture beyond imagining. He’d been soulless and had been resouled
by Death himself, had been crazy and
broken and healed again by an archangel they’d all thought was dead and gone.
Sam had faced so much in his life since the last time he’d seen their father.
Yet still, he stood at Dean’s side and fought not to lean into his big brother,
to duck back and hide from this giant of a man who would always seem larger
than life in Sam’s eyes.
The smile that curved John’s lips was familiar and painful
and just a bit wonderful. “Hey, boys. Long time no see.”
“Dad.” Dean’s voice was low, the single word a croak that
Sam wasn’t sure he’d meant to pass his lips.
Off to the side, Bobby watched their reunion with a smile on
his lips and worry showing in his eyes. He anticipated their first question and
answered it before they had the chance to give it voice. “It’s really him. I
did all the tests – it’s him.”
It seemed too good to be true. How on earth had their Dad
been resurrected? How was he here?
When John took a step forward, Sam moved instinctively,
pressing himself just the tiniest bit closer to Dean. It was a move he’d done
countless times before when faced with something bigger and stronger than him.
Not even Lucifer had been able to destroy that belief in Sam that Dean was his
one safe place. Nothing the devil had done had been able to get rid of that
sense of safety in Dean’s presence.
Dean responded to it the same way that he always had. He
shifted his weight on his feet in a subtle move that slid him more in front of
Sam than behind him. He sheltered Sam without even having to think about it.
“Dad.” He repeated, this time a little steadier, a little more awed, like it
was finally sinking in.
When Dean moved forward to hug their father, to wrap him up
and cling in a way the Winchesters had only ever done when things were serious,
when emotions were too high and they couldn’t give in to the words because that
wasn’t who they were, Sam took a small step back.
Was this… was this real? Was that actually John standing
there? Sam curled his one hand in tight and dug his fingernails into his palm
over top of the scar that had helped him to keep as sane for as long as he had
once the wall had been broken in his mind. But not even the pain of his nails
cutting into his skin broke through the image of John and Dean hugging. That
meant – did that mean he was real? He was really here?
The two broke apart and John’s smile turned Sam’s direction.
It was open and warm in a way Sam couldn’t remember seeing there all that
often. This was a happy John. One who was happy to see his boys. Who wasn’t
angry or disappointed or any of the things that Sam knew he should be. “Hey,
Sammy.”
That nickname was enough to have Sam actually flinching
backwards. They echoed in his head, a remembrance, a memory of a different
time. A time that, despite Gabriel’s healing, still burned around the edges of
Sam’s mind sometimes. John’s face had been one that Lucifer liked to use a lot.
One that he knew hurt Sam quite a bit. Was that what this was now? Was this
just, was he going crazy again and this was Lucifer torturing him somehow?
Sam’s flinch had worry flashing into John’s eyes. But it had
Dean reacting in a different way entirely. He cursed in a low voice and then
stepped right past John and firmly placed himself between the two. All of his
attention was fixed on Sam, though. “Hey, Sammy, look at me. Look right here.”
His right hand lifted and he pointed at his face. His gaze was steady as it
locked on Sam. “That’s it, little brother. Look right here at me. You’re okay.
You’re all right.”
Until then Sam hadn’t realized that he was shaking. He
became abruptly aware of it when Dean took a step towards him and reached out,
closing one of his hands over Sam’s shaking fist. He never held Sam’s wrists,
not after the last time when Sam had almost had a panic attack because of it.
It felt like Sam’s thoughts were all over the place. This, it
couldn’t be real. It couldn’t! This had to be some sort of torture. Which meant
that soon, things were going to get decidedly less nice. John or Dean or
someone was going to start doing the things that still haunted Sam’s dreams at
night. He’d thought that Gabriel had gotten rid of most of the crazy! This
shouldn’t be happening!
“What’s going on?” John asked, looking even more worried
than before. He moved to step up beside Dean, stopping when Dean shot a hand
out to block him.
“Stay back.” Dean warned. His eyes never broke away from
Sam’s. When he spoke again, his voice gentled, turned to that softer tone that
only ever was directed at Sam. “Focus on me here, Sammy. You know I’m real. I’m
right here with you.”
“Dean?”
Sam’s voice was low and questioning. Pleading, really. He
knew and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Something was wrong here.
Something was so wrong. What was happening?
Another low curse sounded from Dean. He took another small
step forward and kept his hold on Sam’s hand without any of the hesitation or
shame that might’ve been there around John years and years ago. A lifetime ago.
“Yeah, all right, kid. Whatever you need.” Dean said, hearing the unasked
questions in just that one word, just the sound of his name. He’d always been
able to read Sam better than anyone. The next second he proved that by calling
out “Hey Gabriel, get your feathery butt on down to Bobby’s. We got a situation
here and Sam needs you – now.”
It took only a second – during which Sam could hear John
demanding once more “What’s going on?” – and then there was the sound of wings
that Dean swore he never could hear, but Sam always could.
The archangel didn’t even bother with any sort of pretenses
or any of his usual games. He landed right at Sam’s side, the side opposite the
one that Dean was holding on to. One look around the room in what Sam knew was
a sweep for threats – a brief widening of his eyes as they passed over John –
and then those golden orbs were locked right on Sam’s face. In the next instant
Gabriel was stepping right between Sam and Dean without ever breaking Dean’s
hold and he was reaching up to cup Sam’s face in both his hands. The flow of
grace was instant and, as always, it washed away some of Sam’s panic. “Take a
deep breath for me, kiddo. Focus here on me and take a deep breath.”
That was something he could do. Sam drew in a breath and
then let it back out, slowly. He did that twice, mimicking Gabriel’s breathing
almost unconsciously. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit steadier,
but full of questions. “Gabriel?”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel said, just as good as Dean at
reading Sam. He stepped in closer so that their bodies pressed together and he
smiled sweetly up at him. A smile that was pure Gabriel, and that was just for
Sam. Only ever for him. “You’re not there, all right? Just keep focusing on me.
You know the drill. This is just your brain trying to flashback and we’re not
gonna let it. Keep looking at me and focus on what you see. What you feel.
You’re stronger than these memories, Samshine. Kick ‘em in the ass.”
Time passed differently in Hell. And even before then.
He remembered the hotel. Kali. The Pagan Gods. The Winchesters… Lucifer. He remembers his brother, whom he had loved more than anything, plunging his own angel blade through his stomach. He doesn’t remember dying. Dying so that Sam and Dean could escape.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 