Archive of Our Own ^beta

A woman walks alone at night, listening to her iPod. She bumps into a man, angrily glaring at him. Not a care in the world. No knowledge of what will happen.

Her music skips. iPod glitches. “Great,” she mutters.

Wind. Whispers of her name. One more, and again, and again.

A dark silhouette of a man stands against the wall of a building, following her. Saying her name.

Papers and other junk whirls around her. Windy city indeed.

The woman runs. She makes it to her apartment building, fumbling for her keys, but gets inside.

Safe from the creeper.

She busts through her apartment door and locks it behind her, entering a code into the alarm system on the wall, disarming and rearming it. Cold terror melts away. She’s in her own apartment.

The illusion of safety.

Oh Meredith, don’t you know? Shadows appear in your house, too.

Meredith listens to her answering machine with a beer. Message after message, each ending with a beep.

While she’s listening, a swirling cloud of smoke morphs into a person while she’s distracted. The darkness creature slowly moves towards her shadow on the wall. It takes its sharp, long nails and sticks it through Meredith’s shadow’s chest.

Meredith’s blood splats against the wall. Her shadow collapses.

Dead.

-

Dean stops the Impala across the street. The Winchesters are dressed as employees of the alarm system company. Sam’s reading a newspaper of the incident while Dean gets a toolbox from the trunk to really sell the look.

Manhunt Continues for Stealth Killer, says the bold headline. Sam sets down the paper and gets out of the car, watching the apartment complex like it’ll do anything.

Gabriel appears next to Sam. “Well hello, stranger,” he says. “You know, I love a man in uniform.”

Sam laughs quietly and kisses Gabriel’s forehead. “I have a thing for short blonds, so I think we’re a bit of a match.”

“Hey, can we do our job?” Dean asks.

“Alright,” Sam says.

“You know, I’ve gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes,” Dean complains. “I feel like a high school drama dork.” Then his face curls up into a cruel little smile. “What was that play that you did? What was it—Our Town! Yeah, you were good, it was cute,” he teases.

Sam hunches in on himself in embarrassment. Gabriel laughs.

“Oh, you were a cute kid,” Gabriel says.

“How did you—”

“You basically looked like a kid when you got to Stanford. You grew like, three inches since you arrived.” Gabriel stands on his tiptoes to kiss Sam’s cheek.

Dean clears his throat. “I’m just sayin’, these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?”

“Whose?” Sam asks, bitchily.

“Ours,” Dean says. “You think credit card fraud is easy?”

-

The landlady shows the Winchesters and Gabriel around the apartment. She’s a short black woman, in a smart striped cardigan and more than upset about losing a tenant.

“Thanks for lettin’ us look around,” Sam says.

“Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…” She, Sam and Gabriel move further into the room.

Dean shuts the door to the apartment and notices something about the chain on the door. It’s broken. He twists it between his fingers, then follows the others.

In the living room, spots of blood cover the carpet like morbid confetti.

“You guys said you were with the alarm company?” the landlady asks.

“That’s right,” Dean says.

“Well, no offense, but your alarm’s about as useful as boobs on a man.”

Sam and Dean exchange a look. Gabriel bites back a hilarious comment.

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean says smoothly. “To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again.” He walks forward.

“Now, ma’am, you found the body?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” the landlady confirms, nodding along.

“Like… right after it happened, or—?” Gabriel asks.

The Winchester brothers look at the windows, the ones with those cute little sheer curtains on them. This was most certainly the apartment of a young woman.

A young woman who wouldn’t get the chance to grow up.

“No.” The landlady shakes her head. “Few days later. Meredith’s work called—she hadn’t shown up. I knocked on the door. That’s when I noticed... the smell.” The more she talks, the more distressed she sounds. It’s a subtle sort of upset, the kind where you’re thinking about a life cut short by strange circumstances.

“Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?” Dean asks.

“No, windows were locked, front door was bolted,” the landlady answers. “Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in.”

“And the alarm was still goin’?” Gabriel asks.

“Like I said, bang-up job your company’s doin’,” the landlady says. She gives Dean a look Sam would be proud of.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean agrees idly. He’s too busy looking around the apartment for tiny snipes.

“No furniture turnovers, broken glass, signs of strugglin’—anythin’?” Gabriel asks.

The landlady shakes her head, frustrated. “Everything was in perfect condition… except Meredith.”

She looks at the carpet, sad once more.

“And what condition was Meredith in?” Sam asks.

“Meredith was all over. In pieces. The guy who killed her must’ve been some kind of a whackjob,” the landlady says. She gestures to the puddles of thick blood scattered on the floor. “But I tell you, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said a wild animal did it.” She says this conspiratorially, as though she still believes it despite the absurdity, but is too nervous to actually admit it. It’s the only answer.

Dean looks at Sam, eyebrows raised.

“Ma’am, do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once-over?” Sam asks.

“Y’know, red tape and yadda yadda,” Gabriel says.

“Oh, well, go right ahead,” she says. “Knock yourself out.”

-

Dean opens his toolbox once she’s gone, actually filled with tools, not guns. Not the type of tools people would expect an alarm company associate to have, though. He pulls the EMF meter out.

“So, a killer walks in and outta the apartment—no weapons, no prints, nothin’,” he says, turning on the meter. He and Sam are on the ground by the toolbox, getting out everything they need.

“I’m tellin’ ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kinda gig,” Sam says.

The EMF meter beeps frantically.

“I think I agree with you,” Dean says.

They both stand in unison, that creepy sibling-sense. “So, you talked to the cops?”

“Oh, did he talk to the cops,” Gabriel whispers to his boyfriend.

Dean’s too busy scanning with the EMF detector to notice discussions of his, uh, private time.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. He smirks. “I spoke to—Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.”

“Yeah?” Sam asks, skeptical as always. He has a hunch as to why he and Gabriel had the motel to themselves last night. It was nice enough that he wasn’t willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, but now it’s time to tease his brother. That’ll prevent Dean from noticing the hickeys dotted around his collarbone if his shirt decides to do anything funky. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, she’s a Sagittarius,” Dean begins, dreamily. “She loves tequila, I mean—” he exhales almost reverently. “Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo—”

“Dean!” Sam says, not wanting to hear about his brother’s sexcapades. He and Gabriel have their own stories from the night before, but he doesn’t want to give Dean the dirty details.

Like the tiny birthmark Gabriel has on his shoulder, or the way his voice pitches up when he’s in the mood, or how—

Now’s not the time.

“What?” Dean asks, brought from his memories. He turns around to look at his unimpressed brother and snickering co-worker “Yeah. Uh, nothin’ we don’t already know. Except for one thing they’re keepin’ outta the papers.”

“Hm?” Sam’s more interested in looking at his device readings than his brother.

“Meredith’s heart was missin’,” Dean says.

Sam turns then, interested at last. “Her heart?” His face pulls awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Her heart.”

He makes his way over to his brother.

“So, what do you think did it to her?” Sam asks.

Dean looks at Gabriel. “Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was—werewolf?”

“Not the right phase, Dean-O,” Gabriel says. “The bears are out, but not the werewolves.”

“Bears?” Dean asks, confused.

Gabriel just raises his eyebrows and smiles.

“What he’s saying is that, uh, it’s not time for werewolves to come out. The lunar cycle’s not right. Plus, if it was a creature, it would’ve left some kind of trace. It’s probably a spirit,” Sam cuts in, eyeing Gabriel.

Dean observes the blood on the carpet, noticing something odd. “See if you can find any masking tape around.”

-

Dean uses the masking tape to connect each smatter of blood to each other, forming some sort of unusual symbol. A circle in the middle, with two arms sticking out of either side. They both curve counterclockwise.

“Ever seen that symbol before?” Sam asks.

“Never,” Dean says.

“Me neither.”

They both glance at Gabriel, who gives them a side shrug. “That’s a pokeball,” he says. “It’s just missin’ a couple of lines.”

He has seen it before, and not in children’s playing cards.

-

Dean’s flirting with the attractive bartender in another bar. Sam and Gabriel enter the bar and look around for him. Dean notices, takes one last drink, then smiles at the bartender before leaving.

“See ya,” he says.

Sam finds an empty table and sits down, taking out John’s journal. He leafs through it. Out comes a clipping from the same magazine he was reading earlier: Manhunt Continues for Stealth Killer, it says, with a picture of Meredith beneath a smaller headline of Second murder in 2 months.

Dean sits down across from him and Gabriel. “I talked to the bartender.”

“Get anythin’ other than her number?” Gabriel asks.

“I’m a professional,” Dean says, fully defensive in a joking way. “I’m offended that you would think that.”

Both Sam and Gabriel give him a knowing look.

“Alright, yeah,” Dean says. He chuckles and holds up a napkin with the bartender’s phone number on it.

“You mind doing a lil bit of thinking with your upstairs brain kiddo?” Gabriel asks.

“Huh?” Dean asks, confused. “Look, there’s nothin’ to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died, so—what about that symbol, you find anything?”

“Nope, nothing,” Sam says. “It wasn’t in Dad’s journal or in any of the usual books.” Sam looks around, uncomfortable at not knowing something. “I just have to dig a little deeper.”

“Oh, we can dig a little deeper,” Gabriel says.

“Mind thinkin’ with your upstairs brain?” Dean mocks.

Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“There was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?” Dean asks Sam.

“Right. Yeah.” Sam pulls out a newspaper clipping about the first death. “His name was, uh—his name was Ben Swardstrom.” He hands Dean the clipping. “Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal—the door was locked, the alarm was on.”

“Is there any connection between the two of them?” Dean asks.

“Not really,” Gabriel says. “Ben was a banker, Meredith a waitress. Never met, never had mutual friends—two people from different worlds. Romeo and Juliet without the love. Extra murder.” He twitches a little and taps at his forehead. “For Dad’s sake, they can’t shut up on Angel Radio tonight,” he mutters. He closes his eyes and ones out, tapping into Angel Radio.

“It’s so friggin’ weird when he does this,” Dean mutters. Then he turns to Sam. “So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s phone number.” He smirks scathingly.

Sam notices something at the other side of the room. Dean looks around.

“What?” he asks.

Sam gets up and walks away from the table, to the other end of the room.

“Sam?”

Sam weaves through the crowd. He only stops when he reaches another table, where a young woman with short blonde hair is sitting, back facing him. Sam gently places his hand on her shoulder.

She turns around.

“Meg,” Sam says.

“Sam! Is that you? Oh my God!” She stands up and hugs Sam. He looks confused. They pull away a few seconds later. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’m just in town, visiting friends,” Sam lies smoothly.

Meg looks around, giving Sam’s table a strange little look. “Where are they?” she asks.

“Well, they’re not here right now, but, ah—what about you, Meg? I thought you were goin’ to California.”

Dean comes up behind his brother, leaving Gabriel wired into Angel Radio at the table with all their stuff.

“Oh, I did,” Meg says. “I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray—at a bar.”

“Who?” Sam asks.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Meg shrugs him off. “Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I’m living here for a while.”

Dean clears his throat loudly, but is ignored.

“You’re from Chicago?”

“No, Massachusetts—Andover.” She gives him a broad, white smile. “Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we’d run into each other?”

“Yeah, I know, I—I thought I’d never see you again,” Sam says.

“Well, I’m glad you were wrong.”

Sam nods.

Dean clears his throat again, much louder.

“Dude, cover your mouth,” Meg says.

“Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Meg,” Sam says. “This is, uh—this is my brother, Dean.”

Meg is surprised. “This is Dean?” She points at him.

Dean smiles charmingly at her.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“So you’ve heard of me?” Dean asks.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of you. Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage.”

The mood drops.

“Sorry?” Dean asks, confused. It’s a blow to his chest.

“Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God’s green earth,” Meg commands, very much in a drop dead sort of way.

“Meg… it’s alright,” Sam says. Ever the peacekeeper.

All three of them look around awkwardly. Meg casually ignores Gabriel at the table, in such a way that it’s unnoticable.

Dean whistles lowly. “Okay, awkward.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I’m gonna get a drink now.” He gives Sam a look, puzzled, hurt, confused, upset, then walks over to the bar.

Tension thick enough it should get carded to enter the bar fills the space between them.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Meg says. “It’s just—the way you told me he treats you… if it were me, I’d kill him.”

“It’s alright. He means well.”

Meg nods. “Well, we should hook up while you’re in town.”

“Uh, well, I’m—I have a boyfriend, actually,” Sam says. He smiles awkwardly, still not over the rush of admitting that he has a boyfriend. There’s a terror-thrill that fills him to the brim when he talks about Gabriel to a near-stranger. “I’m, um, staying with him, so…”

“Oh, you’re gay,” Meg says. Her eyebrows are high enough they’re hidden behind the swoopy fringe of her hair. “I wouldn’t have thought…”

“No, no, no, um—bisexual, if you’ve ever heard of it. I, uh—”

“Yeah, totally cool.” Meg nods. “Really with the times. Both?”

Sam smiles awkwardly and nods at her.

“Well, if you and your boyfriend are into it… we could all hook up.” Meg gives Sam a little look.

“Uh,” Sam says, not sure if he should agree to something without Gabriel here. And, of course, the tremble of anticipation—three people?—that shoots through his bloodstream. “I’ll, um, have to ask him. Why don’t you, uh—why don’t you give me your number?” He takes his phone from his pocket and gets ready to input Meg’s number, still a little struck by her proposition.

“Three-one-two, five-five-five, oh-one-four-three,” Meg says.

“You know what, I never got your last name,” Sam notes.

“Masters,” Meg says.

“Masters?” Sam confirms.

“So, you better call.”

“Scout’s Honor,” Sam says, though he’s never been in the scouts before. Never was in one place long enough.

There’s silence between them, thick and purposeful, but not awkward like before. Something more scandalous. Anticipatory, even. Thrilling. Sparks hum up Sam’s spine.

“I hope to see you around, Sam,” Meg says, drawing in on herself flirtily.

Sam smiles at her and walks away.

He’s almost forgotten the shake of the chase. The newness of it all. He loves Gabriel. Oh, with his whole heart. Gabriel is the one person who he lets know everything about him. No one could replace Gabriel.

Meg… is a wild card. A new addition. Something that can be added to their duo for a second before they end up deciding they’re better off as friends, but in a good way. She’s fun and fresh and thrills Sam the same way Gabriel used to. Coy. Funny. Headstrong. Sam has a type, in both men and women, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it.

-

The Winchester brothers are walking back to the Impala together, knowing Gabriel will join up with them when he’s done tuning into Angel Radio. He does it often, and it’s really not worth wrestling him up and walking him out in public, because it kinda looks more like a kidnapping than not. Besides, Gabriel is a grown-ass Archangel of the Lord, and he can handle himself.

The things Sam tells himself.

“Who the hell was she?” Dean asks sharply in the darkness outside. They’re backlit by red neon signs from the bar, the awkward blue-tinted city lights from the side.

“I don’t really know.” The admission rolls from his mouth in a cloud of fog. “I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, man, it’s weird.”

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?”

With the amount of anger in Dean’s voice, you can barely hear the hurt.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says, fully apologetic and guilty. He did speak about Dean in a fit of anger, upset with him, with the world, with the fact Gabriel had to deal with work instead of comforting him. “It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen—”

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

“No, of course not,” Sam says. “Now, would you listen?” He stops on the sidewalk.

“What?” Dean asks, irritated and hurt. He turns around to look at his brother.

His baby brother, who he raised. Who left him to go to college and came back with a boyfriend who knows everything. Dean knew everything about Sam—why he was staying out late, his preferred brand of swiped cigarettes, what secrets he could keep from John but couldn’t keep from his brother—, but now he doesn’t. There’s someone else in Sam’s life who he confides in.

And apparently, another person. Who Sam airs out his laundry with.

Is Dean hurt? Yeah. Yeah, he’s fucking hurt. He can’t believe that Sam ran off without him, then picked up a boyfriend who he told everything to, and is now just dispensing secrets out to people like pennies.

“I think there’s somethin’ strange going on here, Dean,” Sam says.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean says. “She wasn’t even that into me.”

“No, man, I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead.”

“Why do you say that?” Dean asks.

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road,” Sam explains, as a car passes by. “And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“I don’t know, random coincidence. It happens,” Dean says.

“Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Dean smirks. “So you’re thinkin’ of addin’ a third? You said you have a thing for short blonds, and everyone’s shorter than you. Maybe—Maybe you got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you’re doin’ too much thinkin’ with your upstairs brain, huh?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m perfectly happy with Gabriel. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with long-term relationships, but you don’t have to have threesomes to keep your partners interested in you.”

He pretends he hadn’t had the same thoughts earlier. But now they’ve been cooking in his brain, and he keeps picking up on not-right things about Meg that make him not want to pursue anything.

“Girlfriends,” Dean corrects.

“What?” Sam asks, forehead wrinkling with confusion.

“Girlfriends,” Dean repeats, firmly. “You said, uh—you said partners. But I don’t swing both ways, so, uh… girlfriends.”

“Fine, Dean. You don’t have to have threesomes to keep your girlfriends interested in you. Is your fragile ego safe?” Sam asks.

Dean sighs heavily.

“Do me a favor,” Sam says, all business. “Check and see if there’s really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asks.

“I’m gonna watch Meg,” Sam says. All determination.

Dean laughs. “Yeah, you are,” he says. “Looks like Gabriel’s got some competition.”

“I have what?” Gabriel asks, appearing behind them with a flapping of wings.

“Sam’s got a little crush on a hot blonde.”

“Oh, are we adding a third?” Gabriel asks, smoothly jumping on the joke but also curious.

Sam looks at Gabriel over his shoulder. “Gabe,” he chastises.

Gabriel smiles at him, but it falters, and he gets a funny look on his face. He quickly covers it up with nonchalance. “What?” he asks. “I thought we were adventurous. Who’s the competition?”

“Meg Masters,” Dean says.

“That woman I met on the road when, uh, you were gone,” Sam explains. “I bumped into her, and—”

“Gave you the heebie-jeebies?” Gabriel suggests.

“More or less,” Sam says.

“Well, gotta make sure she’s not some crazy stalker,” Gabriel says.

“You two get up to some freaky shit in the bedroom,” Dean notes, a judging tone lacing his voice.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe,” Gabriel says conspiratorially.

Dean pulls a face. “Dude, gross,” he says. He crosses the street.

-

Sam and Gabriel are in the Impala, Gabriel sitting shotgun and Sam behind the wheel, parked across the street from Meg’s apartment Sam’s phone rings. He picks it up.

“Hey,” Sam says.

“Let me guess,” Dean says. “You’re lurkin’ outside that poor girl’s apartment, aren’t you?”

“No,” Sam lies.

Dean waits, knowing exactly how to get information outside of someone. Tricks of the trade. He taught Sam this trick, and even with Sam knowing that, it still works every time.

“Yes,” Sam admits.

“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ your affection,” Dean comments. “That how you got Gabriel locked down?”

“Oh, no,” Gabriel pipes up. “It was his giant—”

“Did you find anything on her or what?” Sam asks, louder than necessary.

“Dude, get a muzzle for him. I don’t need to know those things about my damn brother,” Dean says. He clears his throat and looks at the laptop, shared between all three of them but technically Sam’s. “Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo,” he says. “Now, look, why don’t the two of you knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a... poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?”

“What about the symbol? Any luck?” Sam skips over all the assumptions.

“Yeah, that I did have some luck with,” Dean says. He pauses to look at research for the proper information. “It’s, uh—turns out it’s Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.”

“What’s a Daeva?” Sam asks.

“It translates to ‘demon of darkness’,” Dean explains before Gabriel has the chance. “Zoroastrian demons, and they’re savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kinda like, uh, demonic pit bulls.”

“Hellhounds?” Gabriel offers.

Gabriel’s impressed. It’s not that he assumes Dean is the dumb Winchester, because he’s most certainly not, but the man does know how to research efficiently and well. He might be overbearing and too paternal for his own good. Oh, he most definitely is. He knows just as much as Sam does.

“Call ‘em what you will,” Dean says.

“How’d you figure that out?” Sam asks.

“Give me some credit, man,” Dean says. “You don’t have a corner on paper chasin’ around here.”

“Oh, yeah? Name the last book you read,” Sam demands.

Silence for a moment. A stand-off.

“No, I called Dad’s friend, Caleb,” Dean says, defeated. “He told me, alright?”

At least he knows how to use his resources. Gabriel credits him for that. Is it the lazy way out? Maybe. But it works, doesn’t it?

Always give the hard job to the lazy guy. He’ll get it done. Gabriel would know.

“Yeah,” Sam says. He glances up at Meg’s dark bedroom window.

“Anyway, here’s the thing—these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured.”

“So, someone’s controlling it?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’,” Dean says. “And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And the, uh, the arms, and torsos...”

“So, what do they look like?” Sam asks.

“Well, nobody knows, but nobody’s seen ‘em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we’ve got a major player in town,” Dean says, confidently. “Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram? Or, uh… not private, I guess. Whatever perverted bullshit you two get up to.”

“Be glad you don’t know,” Gabriel says. “Sammich over here won’t let us do it when you’re sleeping.”

Dean gags.

“Bite me,” Sam hisses.

“No, bite her. Or him! Don’t leave teeth marks, though—”

Sam hangs up.

“He’s really on it today, huh?” Gabriel asks.

“If you didn’t pester him all the time, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Sam says.

Gabriel shrugs. “What can I say? An eye for an eye. And my true form has way more eyes than he does, so I win.” He smiles smugly.

Sam rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics.

“Let’s take advantage of being alone.” Gabriel slides closer to Sam and leans over the gearshift for a kiss. “Y’know, ‘cuz we can’t just stalk some lady without necking it like teenagers in a horror movie.”

“Upstairs brain,” Sam chides jokingly. He slides closer to Gabriel regardless, moving around the gearshift to the passenger’s side of the Impala with Gabriel.

“Why aren’t you using yours?” Gabriel flirts back. He wraps his arms around Sam and pulls him closer, snapping them into the back of the Impala. Sam completely covers Gabriel with his body. Gabriel trills. He’s not used to being considered small, and then Sam fucking Winchester showed up, all six-foot-four inches of him, and made Gabriel all gooey on the inside.

Sam just laughs breathily and kisses Gabriel. Gabriel tangles his hands in Sam’s hair, ruffling it further.

“Let’s make up for lost time,” Gabriel suggests.

“Eager,” Sam says. He laughs into a kiss, then tucks Gabriel’s hair behind his ears. Gabriel rubs his front against Sam’s, almost like a cat, then kisses all over the column of Sam’s neck.

“Well, you know me. No time like the present.”

Sam kisses Gabriel’s forehead and goes back to making out with him, the inside of the Impala quickly growing warmer with their activities.

They’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly.

Sam shoots up and looks out the window before Gabriel does. There’s a darker-skinned woman in outside the car, looking annoyed. She glares at both of them, doubly so when Gabriel pops up, looking like sex on legs, ruffled and a little red.

“Uh—”

“Degenerates,” the woman hisses, looking like she wants to say something else. She walks away angrily.

Sam is stunned, remembering that he and Gabriel are in a semi-public place. He clears his own throat and slides off of Gabriel.

He looks out the window while straightening out.

There’s Meg leaving her apartment in a sweatshirt and jacket, walking across the street. She briefly glances at the parked car, but doesn’t give it much attention. Once she’s gone, Sam gets out of the car and follows her.

Meg stops at a graffiti-covered wall, looking around and pulling open a secret door which seems to be camouflaged with the wall. Once she’s inside, Sam peers around the corner of a different building before walking to the wall and entering through the hidden door.

-

Sam enters the warehouse.

“This place reeks,” Gabriel comments quietly.

“I don’t smell anything,” Sam says.

“You also don’t have superior angel senses, Sammariah,” Gabriel says. He rocks on his heels. “It’s rotting flesh and dried blood and other morbid bullshit.”

“I thought you’d be used to that smell,” Sam says.

“And sulfur,” Gabriel adds, putting emphasis on the word.

Sam’s tired and irritated and vaguely horny. There’s nothing else he’d rather do than be with Gabriel in their old apartment, enjoying the rain while having copious amounts of loving sex. But instead, he’s creeping behind some girl he knew for less than twenty-four hours.

“Gabe, can you make sure nothing comes in?”

“Sure, Samoose. Can you promise me you won’t get kidnapped while I’m gone?”

Sam smiles a little. “I think I can,” he says.

Gabriel kisses him. “We’ll have to postpone our fun, then.”

Sam goes up the rickety staircase. The door at the top is locked when he tries it. He sighs and looks around, finding a broken elevator gate.

He enters the gate and climbs the side of it, using the bars as footrests. He took a couple rock-climbing classes in his spare time, and being a hunter gives you amazing upper body strength. He’ll never admit it to Dean, but he’s probably in the best shape of his life.

Gabriel loves it too.

When Sam reaches the top of the shaft, he can peer through the grate into a poorly lit room. In the center: a black altar.

Meg enters and casually walks to the altar. She picks up a silver bowl of blood from the altar, swirling her finger around in it and speaking an incantation in some ancient language or another.

She speaks to what appears to be nothing.

“I don’t think you should come,” she says. She stops to listen for a moment, like she’s speaking on the phone.

“Because the brothers, they’re in town. I didn’t know that—”

She’s interrupted.

“Yes, sir,” she says obediently.

Another pause.

“Yes, I’ll be here—waiting for you.”

Sam watches Meg set down the bowl and blow out the altar’s candles before she leaves.

Once he’s alone, Sam moves to the wall and finds a tiny crawlspace, big enough to barely fit him. He hoists himself up and climbs into the now-uninhabited room.

He walks to the altar and observes it. This is where he can admit he smells blood, dried and fresh, and several human hearts on the table next to what appear to be ancient items. It’s an occultist’s wet dream, and it belongs to Meg Masters of Massachusetts.

Sam marvels at how he manages to meet the strangest people.

Then he notices the Zoroastrian symbol drawn in blood in the center of the altar.

“What the hell—?”

-

“You reek, now,” Gabriel comments when Sam leaves the building, then leans against him anyways.

“Are you trying to mark me with your smell or something?” Sam asks.

Gabriel laughs but doesn’t object.

-

Sam and Gabriel enter the plain motel room. When Sam and Dean see each other, they do that disturbing thing they sometimes do where they talk at the same time.

“Dude, I gotta talk to you.”

-

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean asks, stalking through the room.

“Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing,” Sam explains.

“So, Sammy’s got a thing for the bad girl.” Dean chuckles.

Sam rolls his eyes.

“And what's the deal with that bowl again?”

“She was talking into it,” Sam explains. “The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.”

“Isn’t that a D&D spell?” Dean asks.

Sam furrows his brow. “Yeah, it is,” he says, suspiciously.

“And who’s she talkin’ to? With the Daeva?”

“No, you said those things were savages,” Sam says. “No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse.”

Dean thinks for a moment, then glances at some files on a table. He sits down at the table and flips through them for a second before finding what he needs. “Holy crap,” he says.

“What?” Sam asks, whisking over to the table with Gabriel by his side.

“What I was gonna tell you earlier—I pulled a favor with my—” Dean clears his throat—“friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims—we missed something the first time.”

Well now Sam doesn’t feel as bad about almost having sex in the Impala, if Dean was out collecting on “favors” with police officers.

“What?” Sam asks, and comes over to the table.

“The first victim, the old man—he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born,” Dean instructs. He points to something on the page.

“Lawrence, Kansas,” Gabriel reads out, eyebrows cocked.

“Mm-hmm.” Dean picks up the second file. “Meredith, second victim—turns out she was adopted. And guess where she’s from.”

The paper reads Lawrence, Kansas.

Sam sits down across from his brother. Gabriel rests on his lap. “Holy crap,” he says.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

“I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started,” Sam says. “So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility.”

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?”

Gabriel takes Sam’s hand in both of his and rubs his thumbs over the back.

“Beats me,” Dean says. “But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“No, we can’t,” Sam says. “We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta steak out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showin’ up to meet her.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Dean says. “I don’t think we should do this alone.”

Gabriel nods, but he already knows Dean isn’t talking about him.

-

Dean’s leaving a message on John’s voicemail. Sam re-enters the room with bigs full of weapons and Gabriel by his side.

“We think we’ve got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom,” Dean says. “So, uh, this warehouse—it’s one-four-three-five West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can.” Then he hangs up.

“Voicemail?” Sam asks. He slowly divests himself of the duffel bags, onto the floor.

“Yeah.” Dean gestures to the bags. “Jesus, what’d you get?”

Sam chuckles.

“He ransacked the trunk. Took nearly anything he could get his hands on for a Dad-damned demon invasion. Real Doomsday prepper here.” Gabriel gives Sam an affectionate little smile. “Holy water, every weapon he found, exorcisms from ‘bout half a dozen religions—”

“I’m not sure what to expect, so I guess we should expect everything, huh?” Sam adds.

Dean nods, and they begin loading their guns in silence.

“Big night,” Dean says.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “You nervous?”

“No,” Dean says. “Why, you?”

“No. No way,” Sam says. He looks at Gabriel, their failsafe, and does feel a little better, even though he feels guilty about thinking of Gabriel as a failsafe.

The truth is, Sam doesn’t know how powerful Gabriel actually is. He doesn’t know if Gabriel could handle the Daevas and Yellow Eyes. He doesn’t know much about Gabriel’s true potential as an Archangel.

Gabriel looks at him like he can read his mind. He reaches out for Sam’s elbow.

“God, imagine if we actually found that damn thing? Yellow Eyes?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?” Dean suggests. Managing expectations, as always.

“I know,” Sam says. “I’m just sayin’, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again.” Sam is once again starry-eyed with hope for a future.

Gabriel hasn’t seen Sam this hopeful in months.

“You wanna go back to school?” Dean asks, surprised. There’s a weight to his words that Sam doesn’t register.

“Yeah, once we’re done huntin’ the thing,” Sam confirms. He thinks of a little apartment, just him and Gabriel. Graduation. A house in the suburbs. Golden retrievers. A law career. His own bed. All the things that have just been pipe dreams the last few months have become something attainable once more.

Sam’s ache pangs in Gabriel’s chest.

“Huh,” Dean says.

“Why, is there somethin’ wrong with that?” Sam asks. He’s testy.

“No,” Dean says, covering his ass. Detached from it all. He’s more realistic than his brother is. Less willing to dream. “No, it’s, uh, great. Good for you.”

“I mean, what are you gonna do when it’s all over?” Sam’s expectant.

“It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt,” Dean says. It’s not his words coming from his mouth. It’s John’s. John Winchester’s words from his own son’s mouth. Strong, angry words.

“But there’s gotta be somethin’ that you want for yourself—”

“Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam,” Dean snaps, raw and exposed. He walks over to the dresser to put space between them.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Sam demands.

Gabriel shifts, awkward. He carefully watches the Winchester boys for the warning signs of a real fight the same way storm chasers look for tornadoes.

Dean rests his forearms on the top of the dresser, making the wooden thing support his weight for a moment while he gathers himself. He turns around after a thick blanket of silence. “Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?” When he speaks, it’s with deep, aching pain. “I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?”

“‘Cuz Dad was in trouble,” Sam says, simply. It’s a question and a statement at once. “‘Cuz you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.”

Wrong answer.

“Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man,” Dean says. He turns back to the dresser and waits, finding the words. When he does, he faces Sam once more, Gabriel forgotten. Let him know about the family pain. Let him know about Dean’s damn feelings. What does he have to gain from it? “You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again,” Dean says, still struggling for words, holding back as much as he can. Each word is agony. Each admission feels like guilt. He doesn’t want to want so much, to ache, but here he is. “I want us to be a family again.”

Gabriel understands. Dad, does he. He knows what it’s like to want to be a family again once it’s broken into a million little pieces. It fucking hurts, and it’s a wound that doesn’t stop hurting. He could tell Dean that, but like Dean would listen to him. Dean’s made up his mind on what and who he assumes Gabriel to be, and Gabriel will never stop being that to him: the thing that stole away his brother. Even though he isn’t, he represents it.

Dean doesn’t know. Sam barely does. Gabriel’s never liked to bring up the past unless it immediately impacts the moment.

And as much as he wants to explain, he just can’t find the words.

“Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you,” Sam says.

A glimmer of hope. Will things be back to normal again?

“But things will never be the way they were before.”

Dean looks like Sam has just ripped his heart from his chest. “They could be,” he says, desperate.

For all his bravado, what is Dean but a little kid, wanting his daddy and his brother?

“I don’t want them to be,” Sam says. It’s deliberate and painful. “I’m not gonna live this life forever. I’m not forcing Gabe into it forever.” He takes in a breath. “Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.”

He and Dean share a tense, wet look. Gabriel takes that moment to relax a little, glad it didn’t brew into a fight the way he was fearing.

And knowing it set something into place regardless of the lack of fists thrown.

-

The Winchesters climb the elevator gate and reach the top room. Gabriel waits on top of the stairs, waiting for things to go poorly.

They always do.

Meg stands in the altar in the center of the room, speaking in that same ancient language.

Sam and Dean draw their guns and stealthily move to the other side of the room, using crates for cover. Guns at the ready. Dad’s perfect soldiers.

“Guys,” Meg announces.

Sam and Dean look at each other, stunned she knows they’re here.

“Hiding’s a little bit childish, don’t you think?”

“Well, that didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean whispers.

Meg turns to face them. “Why don’t you come out?” she asks.

Sam and Dean come out from their hiding places, guns still drawn at her.

“Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.” The city lights fall on her face in slats from the windows. She looks beautiful, in a cursed way.

“We never had one,” Sam says.

Meg has the audacity to look sad.

“So, where’s your little Daeva friend?” Dean asks.

“Around,” Meg says, vaguely. “You know, that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for the demon,” Dean says, condescendingly.

“So, who is it, Meg?” Sam asks. He breathes heavily. “Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?”

“You,” Meg says.

The shadow demon forms on the wall in wisps before solidifying. It smacks Sam into the ground and throws Dean against the crates. A clawed scratch slashes across Sam’s face.

-

Sam and Dean are tied to separate posts. They’re dirty, but they’re alive.

Sam blinks himself awake to see Meg in front of her.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean asks. Blood runs from a cut above his eye. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you gotta pick better people for your threesomes.”

“This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin’ what you had to say—it was all a set-up, wasn’t it?”

Meg laughs.

“And that the victims were from Lawrence?” Sam asks.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Meg says, nonchalantly. “It was just to draw you in. That’s all.”

“You killed those two people for nothin’,” Sam accuses.

“Baby, I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less.” Her words drip with conviction. She’s not as simple and non-threatening as she appears in her light yellow coat and frosty eyeshadow.

“You trapped us. Good for you. It’s Miller time.” Dean smiles. “But why don’t you kill us already?”

“Not very quick on the uptake, are we?” Meg asks, leaning in closer. “This trap isn’t for you.”

Dean’s puzzled. Sam thinks for a second, then makes a horrific realization.

They’re the bait.

“Dad,” he breathes. “It’s a trap for Dad.”

Dean looks at Meg, who gives him a sharp, terrifying smile.

“Oh, sweetheart—you’re dumber than you look,” Dean says, confidently. “‘Cuz even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good.”

“He is pretty good. I’ll give you that.” Meg walks over to him and sits down, straddling his legs. Her necklaces sway with her movement. “But you see, he has one weakness.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“You,” Meg says. “He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgement.” Every word is soaked in seduction, even as she talks about bloodshed. “I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy.”

“Well, I’ve got news for ya. It’s gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him.”

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they’re invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see,” Meg says.

“Why are you doin’ this, Meg?” Sam asks. “What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?”

“I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy—and your boyfriend,” Meg says to Sam. “How did he even get away, hm? Dumb luck?”

“Go to hell,” Sam spits.

“Baby, I’m already there.” Meg smiles and slides off Dean to slither over to Sam. “Come on, Sam. There’s no need to be nasty.” She leans over to whisper in Sam’s ear. “You know, I saw you, in front of my apartment. You and your boyfriend. Angel scum. Getting all hot in front of my window. Come on, Sammy,” Meg breathes. “You and I can have a little dirty fun.”

“Yeah, it was pretty fun, wasn’t it?” Gabriel calls out. He stands at the entrance of the room, then appears next to Meg and Sam. “But you don’t get to use my boyfriend.”

In Meg’s absence, Dean slips out a knife and begins sawing at his ropes.

“You brought vermin here?” Meg snarls to Sam.

“Vermin? What, me?” Gabriel crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You better step away from my boys, demon.”

“Or what?” Meg asks, all sharp bravado. She gets off Sam and stalks closer to Gabriel. Sam takes the opportunity to cut through his own ropes.

Gabriel’s eyes glow golden, bright with divine fury. “I’ll end you right here,” he says. “I’ve killed swarms of you before. Thousands. And the only reason I’m not making this entire place a pile of ashes is because Sam wouldn’t like it if I did.”

He chances a look at his boyfriend before returning to staring down Meg.

“So I’m gonna give you a tiny little ultimatum: leave now, and you’ll be safe. But if you don’t… I’ll make it painful.”

While she’s distracted, Sam sheds his ropes.

He makes a leap at Meg and knocks his head against hers. Meg falls to the filthy floor. Sam groans in pain at the impact.

“Sam! Get the altar,” Dean commands, still working on his own ropes.

“No, I got it.” Gabriel snaps, and the altar bursts like a piñata, exploding confetti and candy everywhere. Except the candy is just occult items scattering around the room.

Gabriel stands over Meg, smiling.

“Time’s up, princess,” he says. He unfurls his wings. “Game. Over.”

The shadow demon appears and grabs Meg, dragging her across the floor and crashing through the window. She falls through the air, landing on the street below with a heavy thump.

Dean rips free of his restraints. He goes over to the window, staring down at the sidewalk.

Sam joins up with Gabriel. “That was amazing,” he says, breathlessly. “You’re amazing.”

Gabriel’s shoulders untense. “It was nothin’,” he says. “Just gotta keep my sugarbear untainted.”

“Is Meg a demon?” Sam asks breathlessly.

“‘Fraid so,” Gabriel says. “That was the real deal, Samantha. Real weak one, but a demon.”

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t even…”

“It’s not your fault for not knowing. It’s mine. I should’ve been more observant. That one’s on me.” Gabriel hates admitting he’s wrong.

“Hey, uh—next time you guys want a third, find a girl that’s not so buckets-o’-crazy, huh?” Dean asks from the window, looking at Meg’s body. Splayed on the asphalt with wings of broken glass and a halo of blood.

Hallowed be the dead.

-

The Winchesters and Gabriel walk back to their room. Sam’s carrying his duffel, still a little nervous. Blood still dries on the human’s faces.

“Why didn’t you just leave that stuff in the car?” Dean asks.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again—better safe than sorry,” Sam says.

Dean unlocks the door and they all enter the room, ready to sleep off the night.

An outline of a man stands by the window.

“Hey!” Dean barks, all frenzied protective energy. Could it be a demon? The person Meg was convening with? Could it be a killer?

Sam flicks on the light. The man turns around.

“Dad?” Dean asks, stunned.

“Hey, boys,” John says, in a voice that creaks of old bones and exhaustion. The years have not been kind to John Winchester.

He’s still the same as they remember, as crazy as it feels. All the distance between them made him into a mythical creature, some sort of wizard who gave them powers and vanished, but he’s just a man. A tired, pale, square-faced man with a growing beard and sad eyes.

Dean and John walk towards each other and share a long, emotional hug that Sam watches. Gabriel grips Sam’s arm, watching them with a removed sadness.

John’s almost not real.

When John and Dean pull around, John looks at Sam. “Hi, Sam,” he says, careful.

“Hey, Dad,” Sam says. He and John don’t hug like Dean and John did, but they do give each other a meaningful look. Sam places the bag crammed with weapons onto the floor with a heavy sound.

“Dad, it was a trap,” Dean says, automatically addressing the situation. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” John says. “I thought it might’ve been.”

“Were you there?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take a swan dive,” John says. “She was the bad guy, right?” His voice is as they remember, smooth as bourbon.

“Yes, sir,” Sam and Dean answer together, obediently.

“Good,” John says. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before.”

“Yellow Eyes has?” Sam asks.

“It knows I’m close. It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it,” John explains.

Gabriel stares directly into his eyes.

“How?” Dean asks.

“I’m workin’ on that,” John says with a trickster’s smile.

“Let us come with you. We’ll help,” Sam nearly begs.

Dean gives his brother a warning look.

“No, Sam. Not yet. Listen, try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch,” John says. “I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Dad, you don’t have to worry about us,” Sam says. “We have Gabriel.” Then he straightens, slipping his arm out of Gabriel’s grasp. “Um, this is, um—this is my, uh—”

“This is Gabriel. The boyfriend,” Gabriel says, firmly but polite, as though he’s never met John before. “The pleasure’s all mine. I’ve been waiting to meet the infamous John Winchester the monster slayer since I first heard your name.” He offers a bright, wide smile, with faraway eyes.

“Gabriel,” John says, with forced politeness. Then he turns to Sam. “Of course I have to worry ‘bout you. I’m your father.” He pauses, looking for the words. “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight,” he says, beneath a thick layer of emotion.

“Yes, sir,” Sam says, obediently.

“It’s good to see you again,” John says. He sniffs. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” Sam says, then breaks. He hugs his father and cries like a child in his dad’s arms. For someone who’s six foot four, three feet taller than his father and brother, he looks tiny, smaller than Gabriel.

Gabriel allows himself to miss his family for a moment. When was the last time his father hugged him like this? Or any of his siblings did? When would his siblings have his back? He can’t even deal with issues he hears on Angel Radio as himself. He has to deal with them as Loki, or anonymously.

Nothing hurts more. Nothing. Not death or torture or anything else.

When Sam and John pull apart, all the Winchesters look at each other tearfully.

Everyone’s so lost in their feelings that no one notices the shadow demon materializing until it attacks John, throwing him into a set of cabinets and making him fall to the ground. Sam falls with him.

“No!” Dean yells. He’s the next to be thrown to the ground.

Meg watches them from outside, holding a pendant around her neck with the same Zoroastrian symbol on it.

Gabriel’s eyes lock on hersthrough the slats of the window, glowing golden through the window, then looks back at the Winchesters. “Close your eyes,” he commands. “I’m gonna light ‘em up.”

The golden light consumes Gabriel’s form, filling the entire room with a burning cold shock that completely obliterates the shadow demon.

And just as fast as it appeared, the light blinks out.

Gabriel helps Sam up. “Are you okay my darling?” he asks, quietly.

“Hurt, but…” Sam breathes. “What did you do?”

Gabriel shrugs and smooths back his hair. “Showed it a fraction of my true form.”

Dean groans in pain and stands up, helping John off the ground.

John gives Gabriel a strange look. “You did that,” he says.

“I did,” Gabriel says. He raises his chin standoffishly. “Anything for my Sam.”

“We don’t have much time,” Sam says, picking up the bag of weapons. “They could be back any second.” He ushers Gabriel out the door and makes sure Dean and John are behind him before he leads them to the car.

“Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait,” Dean says. He breathes heavily, the blood from his new slashes getting into his eyes. “Dad, you can’t come with us.”

“What?” Sam asks. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You boys—you’re beat to hell. You wouldn’t have made it if Gabriel didn’t scare it away.”

“We’ll be alright,” Dean says.

“Dean, we should stick together. We’ll go after those demons—”

“Sam! Listen to me!” Dean commands, angrily. “We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He—he’s stronger without us around.”

“Dad—no,” Sam says. He puts a hand on his father’s shoulder. Dean watches him, sadly. “After everything—after all the time we spent lookin’ for you—please. I gotta be a part of this fight. Gabe can—Gabe can help us. He’s strong. He makes us stronger. He takes care of us.”

“Sammy, this fight is just starting,” John says. “And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you’ve got to trust me, son.”

Sam shakes his head.

“Okay, you’ve gotta let me go,” John says.

The Winchesters are all silent for a moment, close to tears. Gabriel stands with them.

This is the problem with reunions, especially when you have a horrifically dysfunctional family. They always end too soon. And someone gets hurt.

(At least it wasn’t as bad as Gabriel’s last one.)

Sam looks at his hand on his father’s shoulder, then pats his shoulder, then lets go. John and Dean share a look before John walks to his truck.

When he’s at the truck, he looks back at them one more time. “Be careful, boys,” he says, quietly, before getting in and driving away.

“Come on,” Dean says. He slowly guides Sam towards the Impala. Sam gets into the back with Gabriel, leaning against his boyfriend’s side. They all watch as John’s truck turns the corner. Once he’s disappeared, Sam and Dean look at each other knowingly. Then, without a single word, Dean starts the Impala, backs into the street, then speeds around a different corner.

Meg comes down a flight of stairs, out onto the street, watching them leave. Gabriel stares back at her, eyes flashing gold.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. Don’t fuck with his boys.