Lost Time Chapter 25/27

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 25/27
Wordcount: 6,591
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Dean/Sam, Gabriel/OFC
Warning(s): Violence, Sex, Expletives, Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
Notes: Still very AU. If you like this, thank sammichgirl, who told me it was time to make it public. :) If you don't it's totally not her fault.
Summary: Sam Burton has an average life, a foul-mouthed sister, and a dream of putting his past behind him. All of that changes when Dean Winchester comes to stay.

First part
Previous part

Sam balances hunting and work as best he can. It helps that a lot of what he does can be done over remote access and the phone. It hurts that apparently part of his hiring was his boss thinking he'd be good with people in person. Sam deals with the man's disappointment, and then he doesn't. He's not surprised when he quits. It's boring work. Nothing like the rush of coding for Gabriel, or the terrifying completeness he feels traveling with Dean. It takes his brother three weeks on the road to figure out that Sam is only using his laptop for research and Skyping with Ope.

It's been two months since her eyesight came back, and while it's still not great it gets progressively better. Sam's pretty sure she can make out full facial features most of the time, but her eyes tire quickly, and light is still a big factor. He wonders how many headaches she'd have if she actually experienced eye strain. As a result she's been consulting at her shop and consulting with Dean and Sam, but she hasn't been allowed to take the reigns on anything. It makes several of their conversations terse and unpleasant, but Sam's so damn happy to have her seeing again he couldn't care less.

In the meantime they've been sent after seven different Seals, and they've only successfully stopped the breaking of three of those. Dean is tense, unhappy, and Sam works hard to make that less true, but it's fairly touch and go. Castiel gets tighter with every visit, more robotic, and Sam struggles to remain civil to the angel despite their history and how little he trusts the guy. He doesn't call on Meg. He's still angry. Angry that Dean and Ope thought he needed the truth kept from him, angry that the universe is so dead set against himself and Dean, just generally angry. He bites it back through, because there's not a lot that can be done. They have to cruise along until they come up with an answer, a solution to losing Seal after Seal in what is beginning to seem like a pathetic attempt to stop a tidal wave. A fucking tsunami.

The only time he sees the old Dean, the Dean he fell in love with, is when they squeeze in little hunts in between traveling from one disaster to another. It's the only time they taste victory. Most nights they simply fall asleep exhausted in bed beside on another, but after those hunts they often find themselves together, twisted up and sweating. Some nights Sam is pressed against the slippery wall of the shower, some nights Dean is twisted halfway around grabbing the headboard and grunting his name. They don't need more than this, and Sam is so grateful to have it that it hurts. They fight. Sam's only ever really co-existed with Ophelia. Every other living arrangement he's experienced was all about survival, and learning Dean's eccentricities is harder than Sam imagined it would be. Being well-rested becomes a treat, and he learns that without coffee in the morning Dean is a bear. Learns that as OCD as Dean is about gun storage and caring for his weapons he often leaves clothes strewn about the motel rooms, and he's willing to let take-out sit in the little mini-fridges until it grows hair. More disgustingly he'll still consider eating it sometimes. Dean flirts with waitresses, bar maids, practically anything, and Sam feels jealous at times. That's mitigated by the fact that no matter how many times Dean says sweetheart or darling it's Sam that his eyes glitter at. Sam that goes to bed with him that night.

Then they lose another Seal, and Dean drinks himself into a raging stupor. He's half on the bed and half on the floor, fingers flying as he gestures angrily and bitches about the loss of life, the loss of hope, and how he's failing at all of it. Sam listens, grits his teeth, and the next day he makes the call. He plans it out though. Knows what he has to do.

She arrives just as he remembers her. Sam's been around the life enough now to be able to pick up what he needs from the internet to get ahold of her, and sitting across from her in the empty storeroom he studies the way her short blond hair hangs around her face, how she could just be another pretty girl if he didn't know the ugly truth. He thinks of Ruby then for the first time in a long time, and who Ruby must have been before she was taken over. Thinks of a world full of pretty co-eds and innocent people that are all in danger and don't know it. Have no idea how close they are to the brink.

"I'm really glad you called Sam. Seriously, it's good to know at least one Winchester knows when they need help."

He ignores the tone and leans back against the wall behind him. "What do I need to do?"

Meg sits on the floor and folds her legs up, smile easy and gentle as she studies him back. "You guys have been going about this all wrong. You can't stop the Seals from breaking, but you can stop the one breaking them. You need to go after Lilith. She's a player, big time, and she's got a following. She's the one leading the movement to break Lucifer out of his cage, and if you can kill her the Seals will stop. I've got others Sam, demons that don't want Lucifer out, and they'll help clear out her followers. You have to kill her first though."

Sam nods thoughtfully, licks his lower lip, and considers that. "So I just need to track down Lilith and kill her. How do I do that?"

"You know how. Brady taught you, even if that wasn't why he was teaching it to you. All you have to do is call on those powers of yours. And I can tell you where she'll be. When the shit really hits the fan Lilith will be going to St. Mary's Convent. It's the site of the last Seal."

There's a wave of cold nausea, fear mixed in with anger, and Sam suddenly isn't sure how his voice stays so steady. He's stronger now than he's ever been, but thinking of himself during that terrible year is still hard. "I can't do that anymore. I lost the ability." Except that isn't true. He's been having the dreams after all. If those are back, then why wouldn't the rest of it be back too?

"Well a part of that may be not practicing, and a part of it may be cutting yourself off from the source." She hesitates briefly, and while Sam knows she wants to look apologetic he sees only eagerness. "Maybe you just need a boost?"

It's hard. So hard, because the minute she says it Sam can taste it again. Bitter and salty, warmth flooding into his mouth, and he can feel the rush of adrenaline and power every time it slid past his lips. Can remember the cold and hard look in Brady's eyes, something akin to pride and joy that Sam never saw in the demon any other time. "No." He swallows reflexively, but the taste lingers. "No I won't do that again. I'll kill Lilith, but I won't drink anymore demon blood."

Meg simply nods, lips pursed, and Sam knows she doesn't believe him. Why should she? "Ok. That's fine Sam, but you may need the juice when the big day comes. So should we test to see if you can still do it? If you remember the moves at least?"

Sam nods once and licks his lips again. The memory of the taste is still present, but he expected temptation. Expected this to be difficult. "Yeah. We should test that." He pushes up from the cold cement floor and watches her do the same.

"I'm so glad you agreed to this Sam. It's really good to know you didn't inherit the pig-headed genes." Her grin is broad and simple, but Sam knows that her kind are never simple. That there is something dark and complex brewing underneath that happy mask she's wearing. "Your brother wouldn't be this smart."

He laughs once, softly, and then gestures upwards and she finally looks and sees the devil's trap on the ceiling. Her eyes narrow and Sam shrugs once in something that is certainly not an apology. "Actually, he'd probably be smarter about it."

It takes a long time. There's a lot of screaming and cursing, and the body doesn't make it. Still, just like riding a bike Sam eventually remembers how to do it. Where to reach inside himself to find the power, how to push it out and use it, and when it's over he buries the girl that may or may not have once been called Meg and goes back to the motel room where Dean is. His brother is infinitely grateful that Sam remembered to get extra coleslaw with his ribs.

-----

Ophelia did three hours on Rick's back piece today. Needle clusters doing their work, ink blending smoothly, and Rick spilling all of his troubles under the cathartic mixture of pain and sensation. It's just like any other day, but it's special because she thought she'd never have it again. She's fairly certain there is not a single thing that could bring her down. Not even Gabriel driving her home and hovering like some sort of mother hen while her vision blurs in and out rhythmically against her will. She had to stare very close towards the end, but Tommy confirmed that the work was her usual high standard. Rick had been good enough to wait for her, and now she's not going to let him down. Not going to let herself down either. She squints at the dish in front of her for a bit and then looks up to see Gabe's smirk come into focus for a second before it slides back into hazy indistinct colors.

"One day you're going to have to explain how you can just whip this awesome shit up."

"I've lived alone a long time sweets. A bachelor must know how to care for himself." The motion of his head suggests that he's winking, and she's pretty sure that's a good thing. Then the phone rings, and she pulls it out and answers. She can't see well enough to find the speakerphone button, but the hacker reads her mind and hits it for her so she can devour the buttery filet and mushrooms in front of her while she talks.

"Go for Opey." Fingers stroke her thigh and she just knows her grin is dopey is stupid.

"Hey Ope. How goes it?" Dean's voice is tired, strained, and she feels the smile slip off her face. Gabe's fingers tighten once and then release and disappear. Suddenly, getting excited over the tattoo seems stupid.

"All fine on the homefront. How're you two? Fucking like rabbits?" It's weak, but she hears Dean chuckle softly. She can be as offensive as he needs her to be. There's no doubt Sam is overwhelming him with comfort and concern.

"One day I'm gonna wash your mouth out with soap. We're ok. Sam's been wearing out his welcome at the libraries in every town we go in, but otherwise it's all good." Pregnant pause, and Gabriel reminds her none too gently she's ignoring his meal. She takes a bite and chews it without tasting the flavor. "I just wish we weren't flying so blind. We still don't know what Seals are coming up, Castiel is getting bitchier about Halloween. I think it's gonna be a thing. Who knew the guy's asshole could clench tighter?"

Gabe chuckles with her and then she leans in to the phone. "I actually-well man it's not a great one. But I had an idea." She hears Dean tighten up, feels Gabe's hand go back to her thigh with a warning squeeze.

"No more summoning sweetheart. We talked about this."

That's a generous way for him to describe ordering her not to do anything else that would put her in danger, but she lets it go because this isn't about that. "No, no more of that. Your dad's journal talks about the asshat psychic, but doesn't say much about that prophecy right? Well if that's tied into the Apocalypse it could matter. I figure the guy didn't get that shit on his own. He must have gotten it from a higher authority. So I was thinking maybe I could go talk to him. Find out who, or what, told him Sam needed to be dropped and why. What do you think?"

There's silence for a long time, and her vision swims into focus long enough to see a tightness to Gabe's face that doesn't make much sense at all."That's not a bad idea Ope. I could head that way after we-"

"No I was thinking I could go Dean. As in, Ophelia exits the house and enters the car before driving to Whereversville and prying info out of said psychic." Gabriel's hand lands on her elbow but she shakes her head in his direction. "Because it's just driving to a place and talking to some guy. Which is not dangerous at all. So I can fucking do it."

"You'd have to drive a lot of miles. Your eyes won't really do well with that. Plus we have no idea if this guy is even still around or-"

"I can take Gabe. All he does is eat my groceries and watch TV anyway, so this will be good for him. It needs to be done Dean, and you and Sam are knee deep in shit out there. Let me help. Please." It hurts to say the last word. Hurts a lot, because she's got her pride, but it needs to be said. It's her only chance at being even slightly helpful. There's silence again, and then she hears Dean's throat clear.

"His name is Salvadore Vieggi. He's in Tulsa, Oklahoma. We'll meet you there after Halloween. Don't do anything dangerous you got me?"

Gabriel speaks for the first time, and he sounds overly casual. "I wouldn't let her. Good night Dean-o." Then he's hitting the button and grabbing at her arms. "Ok Opey It's time for us to have a little talk about expectations."

And here it comes. It had to happen eventually, because she has gotten way overly familiar and more than a little dependent on the guy being around to dig her out of pits that he has no part in and are definitely not his problem. She's waiting for the inevitable talk, the one that came when Alan realized that she wasn't going to be dumping Sam and his issues anytime soon. That fucking him came second. She'd been weary when Alan hit that point. Right now she's terrified.

She huffs a laugh instead. "Dude, I just said you'd go so he'd quit being weird about it. I know you got a life and shit to do. Hell, you've sort of outstayed your welcome anyway." The silver blur that was her fork was easy to find and she speared a slice of meat and took a bite. "No matter how good your cooking is."

There's silence for a bit, and he's too blurry to make out. Which is why the moving flesh colored blob that resolves itself to be his hand taking the fork from her and lifting her up in one smooth movement surprises her. She lets out a bark of unhappiness, but Gabriel is having none of it. She's plopped onto her bed and then he's kneeling in front of her, and her fickle vision clears just enough to give her a good view of his face.

"If you had no restrictions, no disease, an infinite amount of money, and no responsibilities Ophelia what would you be doing right now? Where would you be?" He's serious. Deadly serious, and that kind of gives her pause.

"Eating that delicious meal you made?" He shakes her once and all the awkward humor bleeds its way out. This is something big, something defining, and she's not sure what or why but it would only take a gesture to fuck it up beyond all chances of being repaired. "I would be-Gabriel why?"

"Because I have to know there's more to you than just Sam. If he was fine, and he didn't need you all the time, what would you do?"

She's never thought about it. In the all the years since she met Sam it's never occurred to her what she'd do if he didn't need her anymore. Despite that though, the answer trips off her tongue and leaves her shaking internally and fully fucking exposed. "You. I would be here and do this with you."

Gabe's eyes go soft, liquid amber with golden highlights, and his lips press once against hers firmly before he pulls away and buries his face in her throat. "I've been lying to you."

"I know." Her fingers find his chin, eyes still clear but probably not for long, and she tilts his head up so she can see him fully. "You and Sam are some kind of computer criminals. I figured it out. I don't mind a little criminality."

Those lips go tight and then curl upwards in the familiar smirk. "Well you are a huge pothead." He takes the punch with a laugh and then kisses her again. "So wanna make out with me?"

"No. I want to finish my fucking dinner. That shit is delicious."

-----

Dean doesn't miss the way Sam's mouth tightens in that prudish little way when he tells him that Ophelia is traveling. In the last few weeks things between them have been uncommonly strained, and Dean isn't sure why. Sam's nightly forays to the library are starting to make Dean crazy, because Sam comes back from them either pissed off, suffering from a righteous headache, or both. Maybe the kid needs glasses, or maybe it's his period. Dean's just not sure.

It could be the fact that if Dean's countdown is right there aren't a lot of Seals left. It should be that, but Dean gets the feeling it isn't.

Tonight though, tonight they're arguing about the wisdom of Ophelia traveling across country with Gabriel to find out about their father's crazy fucking decision, and what split them up as children. Which Dean, honestly, thinks is sort of fucking important.

"What if it's a trap? Or the guy is evil? Ophelia can only half-see and Gabriel only knows how to kill things on video games Dean! It's too dangerous!" Sam fumbles for his phone and Dean grabs it first.

"The guy is just some psychic, and Ope is getting better. She's going to be fine. What I wanna know is what's crawled up your ass and died Sammy." Sam gives him an ugly look and Dean points a finger. "I mean it. I want to know why you're-"

He's cut off by the sound of wings fluttering. "Dean, Samuel, we have a problem with a Seal."

Well of fucking course they do. "Cas can this wait, like just three or four minutes? I have a-"

"What Seal?" Sam's face says that he couldn't have timed this better, and Dean briefly considers shouting at both of them before he gives in. He wanted Sam to be more Winchester-like after all. He's just getting what he asked for.

"A demon is being brought back. A powerful one named Samhain. If you cannot stop his raising I will be forced to allow Uriel to destroy the town."

There's a beat where Dean watches Sam absorbing that and then the enormity of it hits him. "That would be quite an evacuation you'd have to-you're not nodding. Why aren't you nodding?"

"Evacuation was not part of our plan."

The click in Sam's swallow is the only sound before Dean is up and on his feet. "Are you fucking kidding me? You'd kill a whole town of people. Like that. No problems?" Castiel doesn't flinch when Dean snaps his fingers millimeters from the angel's nose.

"To stop this demon being brought back I would do whatever is necessary Dean. I have already fought Uriel for the right to allow you to have a chance. Do not let me down."

-----

Gabriel isn't worried that the psychic will know who he is. The little angel didn't recognize him, and that's the way he wants it to stay. Much as it drove him crazy to let them take Ophelia he couldn't get involved. Flexing any power where Heaven can identify him is out of the question. Instead he watches Ophelia shave her legs in the little motel bathroom with one eye squinted against the smoke of the cigarette tucked in the corner of her mouth.

"Is that smart?"

She doesn't even spare him a glare. Instead her hand moves smoothly along the line of her muscled calf, and he considers briefly licking that skin before he remembers that she's wielding a sharp object. Which is funny, because she can't hurt him but she doesn't know that.

"I've been shaving my own legs since I was thirteen. I think I can handle it ass." She finishes the left leg and lowers it. Lifts the right and gives it a stroke that is all tease and no necessity. "Plus, I wouldn't let those ham hands wield a sharp object near my delicate flesh if you fucking paid me."

He promised himself sometime after the first or second time she surprised him he'd stop reading her mind. That he liked the surprises. Gabriel regrets that decision right now, because it's that very choice that has them in Oklahoma getting ready to find out who is responsible for changing destiny and splitting the Winchester brothers apart. Gabriel isn't looking forward to this. She finishes and slides the short skirt up before buckling it shut. Her hands are ruthlessly efficient, and he wonders if that's rote memorization or if her sight is working right now. He'll have to completely fix it some day soon. Damn Jana...

"You weren't complaining about my dexterity an hour ago. If I remember correctly it went something like, 'Oh fuck Gabriel you are the best lover I have ever had and I am ruined for all other men. Please continue to pleasure me beyond all rational sense and let me-'" He dodges the shaving cream can nimbly and grins when she slams into him.

"Shut the fuck up. Horndog." She licks the seam of his lips and then pulls away and drags a sweater over her head. "Keep it up and I'll bone the psychic just to annoy you."

Gabriel doubts that, but he lets it go anyway. Salvadore Vieggi has moved out of the city into a smaller outlying town called Broken Arrow, and it's not hard to find his new house. They cross the dying grass and Ophelia pounds on the flaking door without a moment's hesitation. He likes that about her too, how forceful she can be. It gives him an odd hope that one day she could live up to being more than what was once planned for her. Father knows he's always been fond of breaking away from the Plan.

The psychic answers the door slowly. He's haggard looking, tired, and too thin. It occurs to Gabriel that people with real gifts wouldn't make much money in this business. News is typically bad, and humans rarely enjoy the truth. There's a moment where it seems the man will get grumpy, and then his eyes travel the valley of Ophelia's breasts and he pauses and smoothes out his scowl. "How can I help you?"

"I don't have an appointment, but I'd like a reading. Think you can handle that?" There's an edge to her tone, teasing and flirtatious but darkly so. Gabriel reads the emotions that flicker through the man too quickly for her to follow and knows that he's turned on and frightened at the same time. The second thing fuels the first.

"Yes I believe I can. Come on in ma'am." He steps aside and she rubs against him purposefully as she crosses the threshold. Gabriel follows her without Vieggi, and they end up in a shabby room full of fake trinkets at a table with a giant crystal ball Gabriel knows was made in China. He doesn't say anything as they take their spot at the table, and she extends one small hand and waits for the psychic to take it.

This isn't a good idea. He knows the minute Vieggi reaches out and touches her he'll know something is wrong. She can't play this game, but Gabriel doesn't warn her. He can't afford to draw any more attention to himself than he already is. The psychic takes her palm and strokes the lines once before he begins to frown.

"You are-this is-" He looks up and meets her eyes before sucking in a harsh breath. "You should not be here."

He sees the second she recognizes the man's ability, and her face goes hard instantly. "I have questions. You're going to answer them."

"You don't have questions. You're a toy. Toys don't get to ask questions." Salvadore's words are softened by how apologetic he sounds, but Ophelia's whole body goes taut in a second. Gabriel expects her to begin shouting, but she's good at surprising him. He didn't see her conceal the gun, but he does see her pull it.

"Well this toy has accessories, and mine just happens to be loaded with hollow points asshole so maybe I get questions today. Feeling talkative yet, or should I blow out one of your fucking kneecaps?" Her blue eyes are cold, hard, but Gabriel can see that she's not sure where her aim is at. Salvadore is too intimidated by the weapon to notice.

"Ask."

"Years ago you told a man named John Winchester about a prophecy, and in the process you gave him some hard advice. I want to know who told you the prophecy, what it was, and why you thought it was ok to tell a man to abandon his baby son." Her finger slips the safety off and Salvadore swallows thickly.

"The boy wasn't his son anymore. He was tainted with demon blood, and is going to be the world's downfall. I told Winchester that the only way to save himself and his older boy was to kill the younger one not abandon him. I got the prophecy from a higher source."

Ophelia is up, eyes burning and gun barrel pressed tightly against the psychic's cheek. Her mouth is curled into a snarl. "Who told you to tell him that? Who told you to have the baby killed?"

"The messenger. God's messenger." Gabriel sees the way her hand shakes. He closes his eyes for a moment and then reopens them to see that she's still not under control.

"What messenger motherfucker? This is not the time for dramatic tension."

"Gabriel. The archangel Gabriel told me the boy was dangerous. That they had to be split apart, and the boy given to another hunter. I knew the only way to be sure was for Winchester to kill the little monster." The psychic swallowed and then looked up at her again. "But you knew some of that already. What you don't know is that you're just a pawn here. You're not supposed to be here you're supposed to be waiting to die, and it won't be long before you are gone. You'll die heartless and alone just like a toy is supposed to."

He expects her to push harder, to demand to know what all of that means, but she pulls the gun back and re-engages the safety. It's tucked back into the holster on her thigh, and then she's turning and reaching for him because he can clearly see the exit. They take one step before she turns around and slams her fist into the psychic's face. "That baby is worth a thousand of you motherfucker. I'd suggest you move again and this time don't resurface. Next time I see you I'll blow your fucking head open." She sounds vicious, feral, and Salvadore shakes visibly.

The ride back to the motel is silent and tense. Gabriel doesn't try to break it, and he doesn't try to lighten it. She knows half of the truth now. Just not the half that would be useful to her. When they reach the motel room she slips all her clothes off and slides into the bed without talking. He joins her and finds her body tight and hard. He pulls her into his grasp though and waits for a moment before he can't hold it in anymore. "Why didn't you ask what he meant? About you being a pawn and a toy?"

Her laughter is jagged and harsh. "I don't give two fucks what he thinks I am. Heaven wants me to dance? They better come down and teach me the fucking beat." Her body is shaking hard in his arms, but her tone is hard and deadly. It's good. He presses his lips against her neck and then she surprises him one more time. "Good for him."

"Good for who sweets?"

"Your namesake. At least there's one winged asshole willing to do something to save us. Even if he picked the wrong fucking mouthpiece."

Well that's…nice but not necessarily true. The winged asshole in question did it on a lark, and then dropped the ball so many times he may as well not have done anything at all. Because the winged asshole in question didn't know about Destiny tucking a little girl off to the side and waiting to activate her just in case. The winged asshole didn't know that said little girl would grow up into a foul-mouthed woman who had the strange ability to make him keep coming back, to make him maybe care a little, and that she would do all that while tilting full force into death all the fucking time. Now said winged asshole is watching Destiny reassert itself while trying desperately to stay on the sidelines.

He buries his face into her hair and takes a deep breath. Tries to remind himself that he has to be nothing but an observer. It's not working too well.

-----

Dean stands in the cold stone doorway and simply looks at Sam. Sam, his lover, his brother, is standing over the collapsed body of Samhain's vessel. His little brother's eyes are just losing that black color, but the little grin is still there. The one that is freezing Dean's blood and holding his legs into a locked position as he simply stares. Which is why when Sam finally looks up and his eyes meet Dean's there's no way for Dean to hide his feelings. Sam sees all of it written plain and clear on his face. Concern, fear, anger, disgust, and without a doubt love buried underneath all of it. Sam's smile collapses, becomes a cry, and then Dean is catching his brother and holding him up.

All the pieces fall into place after that. Dean carries Sam back to the Impala, loads him into the backseat, and then drives them to the motel. Sam doesn't wake for him packing, or for check-out, and Dean doesn't try to wake him. Because he knows now, and that changes everything. Sam's moods, his headaches, all of it fits in this new context and Dean gets it. This is what his little brother has been up to. Dean, fool that he is, had bought that library line so easily because despite Sam's constantly voiced fears of falling back into old habits Dean believed Sam wouldn't. Had faith that this was one thing they could avoid.

Now he has to admit to himself he has no idea what to do. No clue how to handle Sam backsliding and using the powers he was so afraid of. The better question is how much demon blood Sammy has needed to do these things. Or maybe where he's getting it. Sam sleeps through the rustle of wings, and Dean only jumps a little when Castiel appears in the passenger seat beside him. A childish voice growls that it's Sam's spot, but Dean buries it as soon as it rears its head.

"So we failed." Dean doesn't sugarcoat it. He expects Castiel will at least appreciate that.

"You saved the town." Dean almost chokes on his own spit at that. Too surprised by both the words, and Castiel's tone to control his own surprise. The angel is…comforting him? At least that's what it sounds like.

"Uriel must be laughing his fucking head off."

"Actually he is terribly angry. I am not sure why you would think amusement would be his response. It does not matter. I have learned about your capabilities as a leader, and I am pleased with your interest in saving lives. It is my judgment that matters at the moment."

Dean taps the steering wheel for a little bit before he glances over. The angel's blue eyes are locked on him, and Dean is reminded again that the guy has no idea what personal space, or inappropriate staring lengths are. "How many Seals have we lost Cas? Seriously. We're not making any progress at all. I can feel it slipping past me man. I can feel us losing and it's making me a little fucking nuts."

"But what is really concerning you is Sam and his abilities." Dean manages to not jerk the wheel, but he does look over. "It should be concerning you Dean. It should concern you a great deal. You must not let your brother continue on this path. Do you understand me?"

"I-uh yeah. Yeah. But Cas what-"

"We did not have this conversation." Fingers brush his elbow once and then Castiel is gone and it's just Dean and his unconscious brother. He doesn't know what to do. Sam wakes up outside of Oklahoma, and Dean reaches back and brushes his fingers against Sam's hair in a suddenly urgent need to confirm that Sam is Sam again and not the black-eyed monster he saw standing in the crypt. The touch isn't enough, and Sam makes a strangled noise Dean can't stand. So he pulls the car over into a field, parks, and then climbs in the backseat.

It's reminiscent of the night with the werewolf as Dean pulls Sam's pants halfway down and then swallows him whole. Sam's making these garbled pleas, fingers tangled in his hair, and Dean just keeps moving his mouth, licking and sucking until Sam is hard and throbbing in his mouth. It doesn't take long for his brother to spill over his tongue, and Sam grips his hair painfully tight when he does, but he tastes right. Tastes like Sam. When Dean comes up for air Sam is crying, and he lets him lick his own cum out of his mouth before they sit in the backseat clinging to each other and trembling. Sam apologizes at some point, but Dean just wants to go back in time and see what was happening so he could stop it. Instead he's here, he's lost control of it, and now he has no idea what to do with his little brother other than hold him close and try to fix what's been broken.

-----

He knows within seconds that something is wrong. Can see it in every line of Ophelia's face, and the way she holds herself too tightly as she laughs with Sam. He doesn't know what to do. She's the best one to explain to him the detoxing process and what to expect, but she doesn't look like she can take any more pressure right now. An ungracious voice that seems to have permanently taken residence in his brain reminds him that she was made to care for Sam, and Sam needs caring for. He's ashamed to admit he wants to listen to it.

Sam, for his part, fakes being alright so well it gives Dean the chills. Gabe doesn't buy it, incredulity written into his smiles, but Ope is squinting at them and only half there.

"So what did you find out?" Sam takes the chair beside her and rubs her shoulder when he asks, and she leans into the touch.

"Well, one I have poor impulse control. We may want to leave Oklahoma in case Vieggi calls the fucking cops." She pushes hair out of her face and bites a lip before she fumbles for Sam's hand. "And two, we have an ally. Maybe. Or an enemy I'm not sure."

Sam's eyes are traveling over her bruised knuckles, and Dean sees his indecision before Sam strokes them once and leans back. "So he did get it from someone else? Who was it?"

"The archangel Gabriel. Or so he said." Gabe's face is halfway to serious now, smile slipping away fast. "But that seems sorta unlikely."

"We don't know that." Ope looks offended, and Dean doesn't miss the way the hacker's brows rise or the brief flash of something in his eyes. "It could be. Vieggi said the archangel wanted to derail Destiny, and I believe him. He didn't know shit until he touched my hand. He couldn't have gotten Sam's future without touching Sam. So I believe he got the info and I have to take his word that whatever gave it to him was the archangel. This is good Gabe. A fucking archangel on our side. We could-"

Dean gives voice to what Gabe is obviously thinking. "Sweetheart if he was on our side wouldn't he have done something by now? We got both sides breathing down our necks, Ruby came after Sam, and he hasn't popped up to try to help. I'm pretty sure if he was interested in helping he would've stepped in by now."

She looks to Sam, hope plain on her face, and Sam's repsonse is hesitant and unsure. "Maybe…maybe he doesn't know? Ope called those two goddesses. I bet she could call down an archangel. Or Castiel might know? There has to be a way to find out."

Gabe's face is tight. It never fails to surprise Dean, and he's seen it so rarely that it catches him off-guard now in a new and frightening way. "No. Absolutely not. I'm taking her back to Maine and there will be no summoning of archangels."

Ope's up then, one finger pointed to Gabriel and a hand on Sam's arm. "Fuck that and fuck you. I'll do whatever-"

"I said no." For a second, one terribly confusing second, Dean is afraid of the little hacker. The room is deathly silent in the wake of it, Sam's eyes wide and shocked, Ope's finger no longer pointing, and Dean trying to control the fine tremors that are moving through the muscles of his hands.

Sam's up, eyes flashing in the light and then he's got a hand on Gabe's shoulder. "You don't talk to her like that. Got me?" Ophelia is still standing in place, face blank and motionless.

The room is uncomfortably tense, and then Dean breaks the tension. "Oh-kay. So Gabriel and I agree. No summoning. Next idea please."

Comments

[sammichgirl]

I'm glad you enjoy reading my comments :)

Oh Sam. SAM! Dammit Sam. It's such a slippery slope. Even not drinking the blood, using those powers, even for good, you know it's not right. Especially with what you know is meant to happen. Such anger, young Winchester. *sighs*

Gabe...oh, he's fallen in love. And he admitted lying, but not about what. Does she know he's not all he seems? Have any inkling? Hm.

Oh, but I like Gabe. Well, I like his intentions for the greater good. Splitting up the boys, I get where he'd think it a good idea. Thank God John didn't listen to Vieggi entirely. He couldn't do that to his son, he did love him. In John fashion.

How could Gabe seriously not think that Heaven would know someone (maybe even him) would do something like that though. Heaven always has a plan, a back up. :(

Dean knows something is up with Gabe though. He's gotta put pieces together faster.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

"In John fashion." Is so perfect.

I think for Gabe it's all about the impulse. What works in the moment becomes what will be? Maybe...then again he plans enough too. We'll find out more about that later.

As for Sam, I'm not going to give it away, but there's going to be a moment and he's going to have to make a decision. I think that decision will be the tone for the rest of it.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

There's a lot of screaming and cursing, and the body doesn't make it. Still, just like riding a bike Sam eventually remembers how to do it. Where to reach inside himself to find the power, how to push it out and use it, and when it's over he buries the girl that may or may not have once been called Meg and goes back to the motel room where Dean is.

Holy crap, Sam!! Wow! I'm not sure whether to be proud of him or smack the crap out of him! I don’t know if I've said this at any point, but I love the way you write Sam, you get him spot on. I believe this is who Sam would be if their universe shifted like this one.

Kudos too on making me care about Gabriel in this section. He's also exactly how I'd expect an angel to be—not totally concerned with humans so much as what can be accomplished by moving them around the board. Even though he's really gone for Ope. If that helps anything.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Sam is my bane and my pride. Some days I can get him to sing and some days he refuses to talk at all. I always worry abut his characterization though, and I'm so glad you like it!!

Gabriel really grew on me in the course of this. Before that I honestly could take him or leave him. He was comic support and that was mostly it. By the end I became all, "Oh yay Gabriel!" despite how little he actually does in the show.