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Interlude II, Gabriel - The Annotated Version
Gabriel
[I think I promised to do something with these two, Sam and Gabe, about ten chapters before this. It actually took them that long to settle in my head. Sam/Gabriel ... maybe it's because Dean/Cas had two seasons worth of developement on Show, and Zira/Crowley had an entire book together, while Gabriel got a grand total of four episodes, one of which is AU in this story ... but they've always been the least easy of the pairings in this story. In short fic, I usually write them as established already, because ... it's actually harder than it looks, bringing them together reasonably organically. *shrugs sheepishly* But here, they manage it. Here, the past sixteen chapters or so have come to a crest, and they are either going to break, or fall over the other side together ...]
Gabriel had disappeared while the others started planning. Sam had looked away from him for a second, and the archangel had been gone when he'd looked back. For the love of ... This was beginning to be a habit of Gabriel's. A bad one. And consequently it was beginning to be a habit of Sam's to make his excuses and follow. [In Gabriel's defense, he's just has to be terribly vulnerable, again, and also had to force himself to think of a way to bring his brother down, which he didn't want to do. Plus, he's been either unconscious or in company since Lucy tore him open again, and it just got too much. I'd want a little while to collect myself too]
This time, though, before he could leave, Castiel's stare lasered in on him from across the room, hitting him like a bullet between the eyes. The angel never moved, never blinked, never spoke. Just stared, until Sam got the message.
Take care of my brother. [*grins* I love their relationship in this story. It's sort of the flip side of the Grace Trilogy, because here Cas gets to defend and look out for Gabriel. Cas makes an awesome little brother, I think]
Sam nodded shortly. Managed to meet Cas' eyes. He meant to. Take care of Gabriel. He meant to. Maybe growl at him a little first, tell him to quit running away for a start, but ... He meant to. Gabriel was his. He was going to look after him. [Between them, Sam and Cas have gotten a little possessive of our favourite damaged archangel]
He found the archangel in the junkyard. Well. Not found, exactly. Saw. Stopped. Stared. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. He saw Gabriel.
He saw Gabriel's wings.[I think ... there are sort of two main themes, in this story. Trust and faith. And the wings represent the one, and Grace the other, and I am a complete and utter dork, I know. But ... there is sort of a reason those two things keep coming up. It's not just me fixating on the pretty]
Not all of them. Not the way they'd been in the factory, not splayed out, tier on tier, stacked around him the way no physical thing should work. Not like that. Not a spray of power and feathers and glory, not the might of an archangel even pinned. Not that.[I think this was partially in response to a question after Grace where someone asked if Sam and Dean could see the wings, or was it just the angels. And, too, I just love the image. Six hundred wings is ridiculous, and implausible, and completely awesome]
Only the two. The two damaged ones. The ones that had been torn, broken, smashed. Just them, alone, two crumpled, battered arcs pooling around the seated archangel. Wrapping jagged around Gabriel's hunched form, the archangel curled in on himself, looking down at them. Tracing ancient scars with one hand, oblivious in his misery. Sam had never ... never seen Gabriel look so small. So small, so damaged. Just a hurt man, wrapped in broken wings, curled up on the hood of a junker. Not even the first time, not even when Sam had still thought him human, just a janitor making jokes ... not even then had Gabriel seemed so small. [This ... this is the basic image for this chapter. The image that it grew out of, and I wish to Someone that I had an ounce of artistic skill, because the image of Gabriel all curled up on the hood of a beat-up car, wings around him in the dark, small and miserable ... I wish I could see that, somewhere other than my head ... Because, obviously, I'm a horrible, horrible person -_-;]
He must have made a noise. Made some little sound, a breath of shock, of pain. He must have, because Gabriel jerked, a snapping flash of fear and then power as he spun, the wings trailing after him, spilling off the hood, and Sam jerked after them before he thought. Jerked forward to catch them, to stop them catching on machinery or earth or anything ... anything that might hurt them. More than they already were, anyway. He jerked forward, and Gabriel froze, going absolutely rigid in something close to terror. [... is it bad that I was making little grabby hands in between typing too? Seriously, don't ... don't break them, or ... Why do I do this to myself? Why?]
"I'm sorry, I ..." Sam stammered, wincing internally. Yeah, way to go, Sammy. The one person in the world who's going to remind him of who did this, and you go and grab at them. Real smart, there ... [It's odd, but it's really only when I'm writing from Sam's POV that the whole vessel-of-the-devil thing comes back. I think ... his is the mind it's most on, for obvious reasons, so it's mostly when I have to try thinking like him that it comes back up]
"No," Gabriel managed, visibly forcing himself to relax, to fit his face back into the Trickster's smile, and pull the wings ... Pull the wings up. But not away. Not back wherever the angels kept them that humans couldn't see. Gabriel pulled them up onto the hood, tucked them close ... and didn't take them away. "Sorry there, kiddo. I'm a little ... jumpy, right now?" [He does ... he does trust Sam. And it's sort of ... leaving the wings open, he's sort of ... offering. Revealing. If Sam's going to ... if they're going to ... he wants Sam to know. And is also sort of terrifed of Sam knowing. He is seriously not used to all this letting-himself-be-vulnerable crap. Hence the attempted humour]
Sam bit his lip, nodded. "Figured that," he said, approaching cautiously. Coming close enough to see the faint tremors in damaged wings, to see the way Gabriel watched him carefully. Close enough to wonder why the archangel bothered. Why he didn't hide them away and tell Sam to fuck off. [... Have you ever been hurt? Sort of ... laid open? And ... you want someone to come, someone to help, but at the same time the thought of someone seeing, someone touching ... It's scary as hell. It is so seriously scary as hell, for the other person as well as you, because anything they do has the potential to do so much damage ...]
Gabriel smiled lopsidedly, following Sam's gaze down to the asymmetrical arcs, curling one hand absently through his own feathers, following the cruel line of one scar. "I know," he said quietly. "It's been driving Cas wrong all morning. Every time he looks at me, I can see his eyes wandering back. It's driving him crazy, not being able to fix it." [We're going to go with the theory that you want to fix it, and are not just staring in sick fascination, because ... well, because we can't bear any other thought. And ... It would have bugged Cas. It would have seriously hurt Cas, that after everything he did, everything he could do ... it wasn't enough. And Cas is so sick of what he can do not being enough. So damn tired of it ...]
Sam felt his breath hitch a bit, catching rueful hazel eyes. "He can't fix them?" he asked, feeling his hands knotting. "Or Aziraphale? They can't ...?" [He'd hoped. When Cas said he could do it, kneeling in that factory, Sam had really hoped he meant all of it. Fix all of it. But healing's not that easy. Even in this world, where people come back from the dead, some wounds linger]
Gabriel shook his head. "I've been carrying them broken for more than six thousand years now, kiddo. Some scars just aren't fixable." A wry smile. "Nah. Unless Dad suddenly feels like getting up off his ass and coming down here long enough to wipe them clean ... Or Raphael, maybe, but let's face it, that's even less likely ..." [And Gabriel knows that. He knows that so well. And I don't know how it happened, that Gabriel's wings sort of became ... almost the mirror of what happened to Heaven in this, the motif, but ... they sort of are. Six thousand years on, some things can't be fixed that easily]
Sam clenched his fists. "Cas wants to hurt him for that," he noted, surprisingly calm. "Beginning to agree with him, a bit." Or a lot. Between killing Cas, and leaving Gabriel to suffer ... yeah, Raphael was so far from his favourite archangel right now ... [Cas wants to hurt Raph for a lot of things, by this stage, but that rates right up there. He doesn't mind so much that the archangel killed him, he'd known that was a risk when he made his choice. But Gabriel hadn't. Gabriel had done nothing wrong, and Raph betrayed him, and that puts Raph right around Zachariah's level in Cas' eyes. And Sam's]
Gabriel bit his lip, tilted his head away. "You shouldn't, you know," he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest. "He had his reasons, my brother." His mouth twisted, but he sounded sincere. "I always knew that. I may not have known what he did to me to manage it until now, I may not have understood fully ... but I knew his reasons. Not reasons I happened to like, or ones I agreed with, but that's not saying they were wrong, exactly." [And Gabriel's ... not wrong, here. He doesn't ... really blame Raphael. In part, I think, because he doesn't think he deserves to. After all, he ran the hell away. He abandoned them. It's not like he can afford to point fingers ...]
Sam shook his head, growling in his throat, resting his hands on the grill of the junker before he could do something unwise with them. "What reasons?" What could possibly ... what could possibly ... [Sam ... doesn't really get it. As horrible as the Winchesters have sometimes been to each other, as much as they've hurt each other ... it's never really been deliberate. They've never coldly decided that the other needs to be hurt, to serve their own goals, at least not when in their right minds. Sam has never sold Dean down the river. That's what he thinks Raph did, and he doesn't ... brothers don't do that!]
Gabriel smiled bitterly. "Faith, Sammy," he said quietly. "Angels need faith to live, remember? Angels need to believe. That's why Raph ... that's why he did this. That's why he let this happen. To preserve faith."
Sam shook his head. "Gonna have to explain that one to me, Gabriel." [... Yeah. I probably do too, because it's in my head ... I know why Raph did what he did. I know why he thought it was the only way, and I know, too, that it wasn't something he wanted to do ... but he still did it. And it still tore Gabriel apart]
The archangel hugged his knees, still smiling. "Kinda had to be there, kiddo," he murmured. "After the Fall, you know. Kinda had to see. Michael ... Broke him, it did. Broke him into teeny, tiny pieces, having to throw Lucy down. All of us, really. Going to war with each other, having to kill each other, cast each other down. Hard to keep faith after that, yes? Hard to believe in much of anything, a brother's blood on your hands ..."
Sam shivered. He remembered that, yes. He knew that. [If there is anything Sam gets about this, it's that. Same way Dean understood why Aziraphale had lost his faith, when Zira told him the story. The things they've seen ... they know full well why it's so hard to believe, in the world they live in]
"And Michael was the worst," Gabriel whispered quietly. "He loved Lucy. He really did. Without him ... He had to believe. Someone had to help Mike believe in something, or he was going to wither fast. All of us could see it. And Raph ... well. Raph loved Michael. So Raph used me." [The thing about Sam and Dean ... they've only had each other for so long now, that they haven't ... they don't have to choose between brothers, who to save and who to sacrifice. Dean maybe would get it a little better, being torn between Sam and John for so long, but ... it's not something they understand as easily. Family is not something you sacrifice, to them]
Sam had a feeling he didn't really want to know. But also ... that he might have to know. "How?" he asked quietly. And silently behind it, the real question.
What did they do to you? [And it was horrible. Don't get me wrong, I know why Raph did it, I get him, but it was still awful. The worst possible thing he could have done, at least for Gabriel. And I don't think ... I don't think it helped Michael too much in the long run, either. Michael has subsisted on grief and hate and duty for a long, long time, waiting for the day he'd have to kill his brother, and Raph trying to get him to hate Lucifer, so it wouldn't kill him when he had to ... may not have been the best choice. Hate is not much of a basis for faith, and in feeding Michael's hate he drove away at least one person who could have showed Mike something else]
The archangel shook, mouth twisting, and gestured down at the torn wings. "Proof," he said, blankly. "Proof that Michael was right to do what he did. Proof that Lucifer deserved what he got. Proof that Michael could believe in what he did, in what he had to do. Proof that Heaven was right to keep fighting." His hands clenched into quiet fists, and he finished: "Proof that my brothers had the right to kill each other."
Oh. Oh. Oh shit. Gabriel, who'd had to get torn open all over again before he'd even give them a means to hold his brother, let alone hurt him. Gabriel, who wouldn't even help them at all until they understood that he was never, ever going to hurt his brothers, not even for them. And then Raphael, and probably most of Heaven ... had pointed at him, held him up, and used him to excuse everything Gabriel himself hated. Left him hurt, left him alone, all so they could excuse what Daddy's orders had made them do. [... Horrible. Gabriel hadn't even gotten over the fact that he'd been hurt yet, that his brother, his own brother, had done the hurting, not to mention that his brother was now banished, lost forever, and his other brothers were either dead or grieving or lost, or hard-eyed and remote ... it was a civil war. They were killing their own brothers, their own family, and he hadn't wanted that, he hadn't wanted to stand on either side but he'd had no choice, and now ... now they were holding him up to say that it was right. That what they did was right. Pointing to what had been done to him as if it gave them the right to do it to someone else. I'm surprised he waited as long as he did to run ... Um. Um. Yes, honey, Note-to-Self. You made this up. This came out of your head. Stop getting upset about it ...]
And Raphael ... Raphael had known the whole time. Known that Gabriel could be healed. He had to have. Cas was awesome, really, really awesome, but he was no healer, and if he managed it, if he could look at it once and manage it, then no way in hell Heaven's chief healer had looked at the sigil, looked at the wounds, and not known. No way. And instead of helping him ... [*blinks a bit* Right. I'm calm again. Where were we?]
Right. Sam had pretty much de facto hated the bastards since he found out what they did to Cas. All the things they'd done to Cas. But now ... now it was official. [Right. Vengeful thoughts. Gotcha. Not exactly unwarranted, mind]
"Is that ... Is that why you left?" he asked, softly, reaching out to carefully, carefully touch Gabriel's shaking shoulder, well away from the wings, to carefully hold on to him. "Is that why you left them?"
The archangel blinked at him, and tucked his face away from sight, down into his knees. Quickly, but not before Sam saw an expression that looked like nothing so much as shame. "Maybe," Gabriel muttered, muffled. "Maybe, Sammy. But ... Mostly? I was just tired of watching them all get hurt. I just wanted to ... I just couldn't watch it anymore. I was too weak to watch it, knowing what ... what was coming." [There are times ... there are times when I seriously know how he feels, here. It's not a happy feeling, knowing you're too ... fragile, or weak, or whatever, to cope with the people you love. And holy shit, I hadn't realise how bloody personal this bloody thing apparently was, for me. You'd think I'd have bloody noticed ... *shakes self* Never mind. Where was I?]
For some reason, that prodded something in the back of Sam's mind. For some reason, that clicked something into place. And Sam stared. "That's why you did it," he whispered, blinking. "That's why ..." [Moving swiftly on ...]
Gabriel looked up at him, raised his head at Sam's tone, forehead wrinkling a bit. "Uh, Sammy? What I just said, wasn't it?" Sarcasm slipping back in on sheer autopilot, despite it all, and Sam had to take a little second to smile about that. [*smiles at Gabriel a little bit* He's tougher than he thinks, you know]
"Not that," he growled, grinning for a second, watching Trickster eyes light up a little in response. Then ... Then more serious. Because this ... "I meant the Mystery Spot," he said cautiously, and watched the archangel's face fall. "That's why you did it. That's why you did that. Isn't it?" [This is not the time to be bringing up old hurts, maybe, especially since things are going so well between them, but ... this needs airing. This needs explaining, if they're to get anywhere. And credit to Sam, he does get that]
"What's why I did what?" Gabriel asked lightly, but he was looking away again. "Gonna have to explain that one to me, Sammy." And maybe ... Maybe Sam did. Maybe he did have to explain it. Because he was beginning to think the reason Gabriel acted so randomly sometimes was because the archangel genuinely didn't understand his own reasons half the time. [Gabriel ... seems to act largely on instinct, doing whatever seems best to do at the time. I don't think he looks at his own motivations too closely. I don't think he dares, sometimes]
"You knew Dean was going to die, didn't you?" Sam whispered, leaning in gently, still holding one shoulder to keep Gabriel from leaning away. "You knew more than that. You knew we were vessels. Even then. You knew what we would have to do, if we said yes. You knew that. Didn't you?"
Gabriel bit his lip. Said nothing. But nodded, very, very faintly. [He had to. He had to know, and seeing Changing Channels before Mystery Spot has possibly seriously warped how I see that episode. But ... one in light of the other ... there are a lot of things that suddenly make sense. That wasn't a random lesson]
"And you tried to help me," Sam whispered, smiling just a little as the archangel's head came up in shock. "A hundred Tuesdays, six months after Wednesday ... you tried to show me what it was like to lose a brother. Tried to show me what I'd go through if I didn't leave then and there. Tried to show me what it was like to watch a brother die, over and over again. To watch a brother be taken away, just beyond reach, and I could get him back if only I could make the person who took him away see reason. You tried to show me that. Tried to make me avoid it if you could, and ... be able to survive it if you couldn't. Because you know what it's like a watch a brother get hurt, and not be able to do anything about it. To watch one be taken, and not be able to get him back. Don't you." [I don't know why he chose Sam, of the two brothers. Maybe only because Dean was the one going to die. Maybe because he was drawn to the younger Winchester, knowing who he was and the choices he'd made (Stanford, in particular, maybe), and wanted to help him survive what was coming. Or maybe pieces of something a little more twisted, and he wanted Sam(Lucifer) to watch Dean(Michael) fall, over and over again, the way the rest of them had to, and know it was his fault. Maybe a mix of a lot of things, actually ...]
Gabriel had paled. Paled even more than he had in the factory, and that probably shouldn't be possible. And Sam knew he was right. He knew he was right.
"Good lesson," he said quietly. "Good lesson, Gabriel. Except there's a problem. One little problem." He leaned in, nose to nose, watching those wary hazel eyes. Watching the fear there, the hope. "You gave him back," Sam said. "You gave Dean back to me. Because you're not Heaven, not Hell. Not God. Because you don't believe what they're saying. You don't believe it. You don't believe that you can't get your brother back. You don't believe that you're going to have to hurt them. You gave me my brother back, after half a year of trying to get me to abandon him, because I didn't abandon him, and that's what you understood. That's what you believed was right, in the end." [Because Sam fought, for his brother. Because Gabriel wanted that, wanted that to be true, wanted to believe his own brothers could maybe ... And Sam asked, Sam begged, and Gabriel is not heartless. He wishes he was, maybe, but he's not]
He leaned close, wrapped one hand around the back of Gabriel's neck, cradling the archangel's head gently even as they both trembled. Both shook.
"Your brothers tore you open, Gabriel," Sam whispered gently. "Lucifer, Raphael ... I don't know how many. But they hurt you. I know that. And after that, after they hurt you ... the one thing you still believe is that you're going to get them back. That you can challenge destiny like a Trickster, and get them back. Because they're your brothers, and even if they hurt you, you're going to fight for them. Even if they do this," a little gesture towards the scarred wings, a little flinch inside himself for the sight of them, "You're going to fight for them. And that ... That is not weak, Gabriel. That is so far from fucking weak." [It's not. It's not. And sometimes ... sometimes you really need to hear that. I think Gabriel did. I think so many of them did. Just for one person to say, I understand your choice. I understand why you did it. Sam does too. So much sometimes. I think ... if you give them time, if you let them explore so carefully ... this pairing really does make sense. There is so much between them, even though they didn't have much time together ...]
The archangel was crying silently, his hands locked around Sam's forearms, clutching them like he was trying to hold himself up by them, trying to keep himself from drowning. Gabriel was crying, and Sam never looked away. Never. Because this was important, and Gabriel needed to see. To understand. [There is a kind of love in not looking away. In seeing someone for who they are, and not looking away]
"You're not weak, Gabriel," he said again, very quietly. "Whatever they've said, whatever they've told you ... You're not weak, just because you don't want to hurt them. And we ... We're not Heaven either. We get it, Gabriel. We get it. Aziraphale and Crowley, they're here because after six thousand years as enemies, they can't bear to hurt each other anymore. Cas helped you, Cas was ready to die for you, because you're the first brother in more than a year who hasn't forced him to fight you, hasn't forced him to kill or die. And me and Dean ..." A small smile. "You've known since the Mystery Spot that we get it. Or you should have, anyway." [Team Free Will. Because at this stage, it doesn't matter who the hell is fighting for what, or who's right or wrong. What matters at this stage is that it needs to stop, because they can't bear to lose anymore. Any of them. Because this can't keep going]
Gabriel shook his head, mouth working soundlessly around the words, desperately. "Not ... not the same ... Sammy ..."
"Exactly the same," Sam corrected gently. "You want to keep your brothers. That's the same. You don't want to hurt them. That's the same. Every other bastard in Heaven or Hell wants you to hurt them, is trying to make you hurt them, and you're not going to. You've decided to say 'screw you' to all of them. That ... that is definitely the same." A little grin, a little smile, and he felt his heart lift as it coaxed an echo in the archangel beneath him. He felt his heart lift as Gabriel smiled. [Screw 'em. Screw the lot of them. We are not killing each other for some cause that has no meaning anymore. Sod the lot of them]
"You ... You have a slight advantage, Sammy," Gabriel murmured, but not as hopelessly as he might have. "Your brother isn't going to destroy the world." [Because ... there are some causes ... playing at this scale, you do need to recognise the cost to more than just yourself and those you love. But ... there might be another way, a way around, and they're not going to let the world fall, either]
Sam flinched a little, but did his best to smile. "No," he nodded. "No. We already have. First seal, last seal. And if they find a way to make us say yes, well ..." [And I don't think Sam is ever going to fully let go of the guilt of that. I don't think he can]
"They're not going to!" A snarl, suddenly, ripe and vicious, and the archangel was glaring at him from an inch away, damp eyes suddenly fierce and crackling with power. "You listen to me, Sam. They are not. Going. To. Not unless they've killed me and Cas and everyone else first. They are not getting you. Understood?" [Gabriel, though, is back in the present enough to have priorities again. As in, keeping his human safe and free]
Sam smiled a little. Just gently. "Or you," he whispered. "Or each other, if we have anything to do with it. That's the plan, remember? We're not going to let them fight. We're not going to let them die. Mostly because if they do, they take the world with them, of course, but ... They're your brothers. We do get that. We do understand that, Gabriel. If we didn't ... Aziraphale could have asked for something different, back there. He could have asked for a lot more than he did." He felt Gabriel shake, watched the eyes dip, and realised that Gabriel had known that. And feared it, too. Which told him ... a whole hell of a lot, actually. "He didn't ask," Sam said gently. "He's not going to ask. None of us are, Gabriel. Just ... can you trust that? Trust us? Please?" [They will do this for him. It's risky as hell, and honestly things would be easier if they could just do what they wanted to at the start, and kill the bastard, but ... they will do this for him]
For some reason, Gabriel smiled at that. A wobbly, lopsided thing, and for a second Sam thought it was the bitter smile from earlier, thought it was that hopeless thing, but ... it wasn't. It was sardonic, yes, and wounded, but it wasn't bitter. And it certainly wasn't hopeless. And then ... then Gabriel pulled gently on Sam's arms, implacably, and tugged Sam's hands down to rest ... to rest ... [And Sam passed his test, so now ... now Gabriel has to pass his. Sam has to understand, and Gabriel ... Gabriel has to let himself trust]
"I do trust you, Sammy," the archangel whispered, while Sam stared in shock and maybe terror at the feathers and raised scar tissue beneath his fingers. While Gabriel -Gabriel- offered him damaged wings. "That's maybe the problem. I'm afraid I trust you ... far more than I probably should." Quiet, nervous. "Far ... far more." [And gods almighty, but it is a terrifying thing. To hold yourself open. It is a terrifying thing. And again, the wings ...]
Sam stared. He stared. There was nothing ... he couldn't ... He stared. Because this ... and Lucifer had torn them, had torn them again, and Sam was Lucifer's vessel and in all the world there should be no-one Gabriel trusted less, not for this, no-one who reminded the archangel more of who had done this, who had hurt him, and here ... and here ... [When was the last time someone trusted Sam? Really trusted him? That's why Gabriel had to, if this was going to work, but ... Even for Sam, to have someone put something like that in your hands ... Again. Terrifying]
"I won't ... I won't hurt you," Sam whispered, almost desperately, his hand shaking among the feathers, trying to be gentle, more than gentle, and he had never regretted his size more, never regretted how huge he was, because his hand looked like nothing more than a weapon, a bludgeon, laid against those fragile feathers, those damaged, brittle bones. He smoothed them gently, traced fingers as lightly as was physically possible, because he couldn't pull away. Something told him that if he pulled away now, he'd break so much more than a wing. Something far more fragile. So he did his best to be gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you, Gabriel. Not ever." [... sorry, sorry, again with the image ... the hand, against the feathers ... sorry, where was I?]
Gabriel smiled shakily, more than a little desperate himself, and lifted his hands to catch Sam's face. Left Sam's hands free to do whatever the hell they wanted, while the archangel gently turned his head until he met those hazel eyes again. Gave Sam his wings in truth, offered them trembling while he clung. [... I'm sorry, I know I wrote this, I know it came out of my head, I know this is seriously stupid of me, to get affected by this, but ... But]
"I believe you," the archangel whispered. Terrified, trusting. Real. "I believe you, Sam. I believe in you."
The kiss that followed hurt more than anything Sam had ever felt, hollowed his chest until there was nothing but ache, nothing but love, hurt more than anything had a right to hurt, and it was all in Heaven or Earth that Sam wanted. It was all he wanted.
Because what the hell could you ask for worth more than an archangel's faith? [Trust and faith. And it's only once you have one that you can have the other. And I am shutting up now, because I had no idea ... did this thing make me this emotional when I wrote it? I've no idea, but ... Yeah. Shutting up now]
[I think I promised to do something with these two, Sam and Gabe, about ten chapters before this. It actually took them that long to settle in my head. Sam/Gabriel ... maybe it's because Dean/Cas had two seasons worth of developement on Show, and Zira/Crowley had an entire book together, while Gabriel got a grand total of four episodes, one of which is AU in this story ... but they've always been the least easy of the pairings in this story. In short fic, I usually write them as established already, because ... it's actually harder than it looks, bringing them together reasonably organically. *shrugs sheepishly* But here, they manage it. Here, the past sixteen chapters or so have come to a crest, and they are either going to break, or fall over the other side together ...]
Gabriel had disappeared while the others started planning. Sam had looked away from him for a second, and the archangel had been gone when he'd looked back. For the love of ... This was beginning to be a habit of Gabriel's. A bad one. And consequently it was beginning to be a habit of Sam's to make his excuses and follow. [In Gabriel's defense, he's just has to be terribly vulnerable, again, and also had to force himself to think of a way to bring his brother down, which he didn't want to do. Plus, he's been either unconscious or in company since Lucy tore him open again, and it just got too much. I'd want a little while to collect myself too]
This time, though, before he could leave, Castiel's stare lasered in on him from across the room, hitting him like a bullet between the eyes. The angel never moved, never blinked, never spoke. Just stared, until Sam got the message.
Take care of my brother. [*grins* I love their relationship in this story. It's sort of the flip side of the Grace Trilogy, because here Cas gets to defend and look out for Gabriel. Cas makes an awesome little brother, I think]
Sam nodded shortly. Managed to meet Cas' eyes. He meant to. Take care of Gabriel. He meant to. Maybe growl at him a little first, tell him to quit running away for a start, but ... He meant to. Gabriel was his. He was going to look after him. [Between them, Sam and Cas have gotten a little possessive of our favourite damaged archangel]
He found the archangel in the junkyard. Well. Not found, exactly. Saw. Stopped. Stared. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. He saw Gabriel.
He saw Gabriel's wings.[I think ... there are sort of two main themes, in this story. Trust and faith. And the wings represent the one, and Grace the other, and I am a complete and utter dork, I know. But ... there is sort of a reason those two things keep coming up. It's not just me fixating on the pretty]
Not all of them. Not the way they'd been in the factory, not splayed out, tier on tier, stacked around him the way no physical thing should work. Not like that. Not a spray of power and feathers and glory, not the might of an archangel even pinned. Not that.[I think this was partially in response to a question after Grace where someone asked if Sam and Dean could see the wings, or was it just the angels. And, too, I just love the image. Six hundred wings is ridiculous, and implausible, and completely awesome]
Only the two. The two damaged ones. The ones that had been torn, broken, smashed. Just them, alone, two crumpled, battered arcs pooling around the seated archangel. Wrapping jagged around Gabriel's hunched form, the archangel curled in on himself, looking down at them. Tracing ancient scars with one hand, oblivious in his misery. Sam had never ... never seen Gabriel look so small. So small, so damaged. Just a hurt man, wrapped in broken wings, curled up on the hood of a junker. Not even the first time, not even when Sam had still thought him human, just a janitor making jokes ... not even then had Gabriel seemed so small. [This ... this is the basic image for this chapter. The image that it grew out of, and I wish to Someone that I had an ounce of artistic skill, because the image of Gabriel all curled up on the hood of a beat-up car, wings around him in the dark, small and miserable ... I wish I could see that, somewhere other than my head ... Because, obviously, I'm a horrible, horrible person -_-;]
He must have made a noise. Made some little sound, a breath of shock, of pain. He must have, because Gabriel jerked, a snapping flash of fear and then power as he spun, the wings trailing after him, spilling off the hood, and Sam jerked after them before he thought. Jerked forward to catch them, to stop them catching on machinery or earth or anything ... anything that might hurt them. More than they already were, anyway. He jerked forward, and Gabriel froze, going absolutely rigid in something close to terror. [... is it bad that I was making little grabby hands in between typing too? Seriously, don't ... don't break them, or ... Why do I do this to myself? Why?]
"I'm sorry, I ..." Sam stammered, wincing internally. Yeah, way to go, Sammy. The one person in the world who's going to remind him of who did this, and you go and grab at them. Real smart, there ... [It's odd, but it's really only when I'm writing from Sam's POV that the whole vessel-of-the-devil thing comes back. I think ... his is the mind it's most on, for obvious reasons, so it's mostly when I have to try thinking like him that it comes back up]
"No," Gabriel managed, visibly forcing himself to relax, to fit his face back into the Trickster's smile, and pull the wings ... Pull the wings up. But not away. Not back wherever the angels kept them that humans couldn't see. Gabriel pulled them up onto the hood, tucked them close ... and didn't take them away. "Sorry there, kiddo. I'm a little ... jumpy, right now?" [He does ... he does trust Sam. And it's sort of ... leaving the wings open, he's sort of ... offering. Revealing. If Sam's going to ... if they're going to ... he wants Sam to know. And is also sort of terrifed of Sam knowing. He is seriously not used to all this letting-himself-be-vulnerable crap. Hence the attempted humour]
Sam bit his lip, nodded. "Figured that," he said, approaching cautiously. Coming close enough to see the faint tremors in damaged wings, to see the way Gabriel watched him carefully. Close enough to wonder why the archangel bothered. Why he didn't hide them away and tell Sam to fuck off. [... Have you ever been hurt? Sort of ... laid open? And ... you want someone to come, someone to help, but at the same time the thought of someone seeing, someone touching ... It's scary as hell. It is so seriously scary as hell, for the other person as well as you, because anything they do has the potential to do so much damage ...]
Gabriel smiled lopsidedly, following Sam's gaze down to the asymmetrical arcs, curling one hand absently through his own feathers, following the cruel line of one scar. "I know," he said quietly. "It's been driving Cas wrong all morning. Every time he looks at me, I can see his eyes wandering back. It's driving him crazy, not being able to fix it." [We're going to go with the theory that you want to fix it, and are not just staring in sick fascination, because ... well, because we can't bear any other thought. And ... It would have bugged Cas. It would have seriously hurt Cas, that after everything he did, everything he could do ... it wasn't enough. And Cas is so sick of what he can do not being enough. So damn tired of it ...]
Sam felt his breath hitch a bit, catching rueful hazel eyes. "He can't fix them?" he asked, feeling his hands knotting. "Or Aziraphale? They can't ...?" [He'd hoped. When Cas said he could do it, kneeling in that factory, Sam had really hoped he meant all of it. Fix all of it. But healing's not that easy. Even in this world, where people come back from the dead, some wounds linger]
Gabriel shook his head. "I've been carrying them broken for more than six thousand years now, kiddo. Some scars just aren't fixable." A wry smile. "Nah. Unless Dad suddenly feels like getting up off his ass and coming down here long enough to wipe them clean ... Or Raphael, maybe, but let's face it, that's even less likely ..." [And Gabriel knows that. He knows that so well. And I don't know how it happened, that Gabriel's wings sort of became ... almost the mirror of what happened to Heaven in this, the motif, but ... they sort of are. Six thousand years on, some things can't be fixed that easily]
Sam clenched his fists. "Cas wants to hurt him for that," he noted, surprisingly calm. "Beginning to agree with him, a bit." Or a lot. Between killing Cas, and leaving Gabriel to suffer ... yeah, Raphael was so far from his favourite archangel right now ... [Cas wants to hurt Raph for a lot of things, by this stage, but that rates right up there. He doesn't mind so much that the archangel killed him, he'd known that was a risk when he made his choice. But Gabriel hadn't. Gabriel had done nothing wrong, and Raph betrayed him, and that puts Raph right around Zachariah's level in Cas' eyes. And Sam's]
Gabriel bit his lip, tilted his head away. "You shouldn't, you know," he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest. "He had his reasons, my brother." His mouth twisted, but he sounded sincere. "I always knew that. I may not have known what he did to me to manage it until now, I may not have understood fully ... but I knew his reasons. Not reasons I happened to like, or ones I agreed with, but that's not saying they were wrong, exactly." [And Gabriel's ... not wrong, here. He doesn't ... really blame Raphael. In part, I think, because he doesn't think he deserves to. After all, he ran the hell away. He abandoned them. It's not like he can afford to point fingers ...]
Sam shook his head, growling in his throat, resting his hands on the grill of the junker before he could do something unwise with them. "What reasons?" What could possibly ... what could possibly ... [Sam ... doesn't really get it. As horrible as the Winchesters have sometimes been to each other, as much as they've hurt each other ... it's never really been deliberate. They've never coldly decided that the other needs to be hurt, to serve their own goals, at least not when in their right minds. Sam has never sold Dean down the river. That's what he thinks Raph did, and he doesn't ... brothers don't do that!]
Gabriel smiled bitterly. "Faith, Sammy," he said quietly. "Angels need faith to live, remember? Angels need to believe. That's why Raph ... that's why he did this. That's why he let this happen. To preserve faith."
Sam shook his head. "Gonna have to explain that one to me, Gabriel." [... Yeah. I probably do too, because it's in my head ... I know why Raph did what he did. I know why he thought it was the only way, and I know, too, that it wasn't something he wanted to do ... but he still did it. And it still tore Gabriel apart]
The archangel hugged his knees, still smiling. "Kinda had to be there, kiddo," he murmured. "After the Fall, you know. Kinda had to see. Michael ... Broke him, it did. Broke him into teeny, tiny pieces, having to throw Lucy down. All of us, really. Going to war with each other, having to kill each other, cast each other down. Hard to keep faith after that, yes? Hard to believe in much of anything, a brother's blood on your hands ..."
Sam shivered. He remembered that, yes. He knew that. [If there is anything Sam gets about this, it's that. Same way Dean understood why Aziraphale had lost his faith, when Zira told him the story. The things they've seen ... they know full well why it's so hard to believe, in the world they live in]
"And Michael was the worst," Gabriel whispered quietly. "He loved Lucy. He really did. Without him ... He had to believe. Someone had to help Mike believe in something, or he was going to wither fast. All of us could see it. And Raph ... well. Raph loved Michael. So Raph used me." [The thing about Sam and Dean ... they've only had each other for so long now, that they haven't ... they don't have to choose between brothers, who to save and who to sacrifice. Dean maybe would get it a little better, being torn between Sam and John for so long, but ... it's not something they understand as easily. Family is not something you sacrifice, to them]
Sam had a feeling he didn't really want to know. But also ... that he might have to know. "How?" he asked quietly. And silently behind it, the real question.
What did they do to you? [And it was horrible. Don't get me wrong, I know why Raph did it, I get him, but it was still awful. The worst possible thing he could have done, at least for Gabriel. And I don't think ... I don't think it helped Michael too much in the long run, either. Michael has subsisted on grief and hate and duty for a long, long time, waiting for the day he'd have to kill his brother, and Raph trying to get him to hate Lucifer, so it wouldn't kill him when he had to ... may not have been the best choice. Hate is not much of a basis for faith, and in feeding Michael's hate he drove away at least one person who could have showed Mike something else]
The archangel shook, mouth twisting, and gestured down at the torn wings. "Proof," he said, blankly. "Proof that Michael was right to do what he did. Proof that Lucifer deserved what he got. Proof that Michael could believe in what he did, in what he had to do. Proof that Heaven was right to keep fighting." His hands clenched into quiet fists, and he finished: "Proof that my brothers had the right to kill each other."
Oh. Oh. Oh shit. Gabriel, who'd had to get torn open all over again before he'd even give them a means to hold his brother, let alone hurt him. Gabriel, who wouldn't even help them at all until they understood that he was never, ever going to hurt his brothers, not even for them. And then Raphael, and probably most of Heaven ... had pointed at him, held him up, and used him to excuse everything Gabriel himself hated. Left him hurt, left him alone, all so they could excuse what Daddy's orders had made them do. [... Horrible. Gabriel hadn't even gotten over the fact that he'd been hurt yet, that his brother, his own brother, had done the hurting, not to mention that his brother was now banished, lost forever, and his other brothers were either dead or grieving or lost, or hard-eyed and remote ... it was a civil war. They were killing their own brothers, their own family, and he hadn't wanted that, he hadn't wanted to stand on either side but he'd had no choice, and now ... now they were holding him up to say that it was right. That what they did was right. Pointing to what had been done to him as if it gave them the right to do it to someone else. I'm surprised he waited as long as he did to run ... Um. Um. Yes, honey, Note-to-Self. You made this up. This came out of your head. Stop getting upset about it ...]
And Raphael ... Raphael had known the whole time. Known that Gabriel could be healed. He had to have. Cas was awesome, really, really awesome, but he was no healer, and if he managed it, if he could look at it once and manage it, then no way in hell Heaven's chief healer had looked at the sigil, looked at the wounds, and not known. No way. And instead of helping him ... [*blinks a bit* Right. I'm calm again. Where were we?]
Right. Sam had pretty much de facto hated the bastards since he found out what they did to Cas. All the things they'd done to Cas. But now ... now it was official. [Right. Vengeful thoughts. Gotcha. Not exactly unwarranted, mind]
"Is that ... Is that why you left?" he asked, softly, reaching out to carefully, carefully touch Gabriel's shaking shoulder, well away from the wings, to carefully hold on to him. "Is that why you left them?"
The archangel blinked at him, and tucked his face away from sight, down into his knees. Quickly, but not before Sam saw an expression that looked like nothing so much as shame. "Maybe," Gabriel muttered, muffled. "Maybe, Sammy. But ... Mostly? I was just tired of watching them all get hurt. I just wanted to ... I just couldn't watch it anymore. I was too weak to watch it, knowing what ... what was coming." [There are times ... there are times when I seriously know how he feels, here. It's not a happy feeling, knowing you're too ... fragile, or weak, or whatever, to cope with the people you love. And holy shit, I hadn't realise how bloody personal this bloody thing apparently was, for me. You'd think I'd have bloody noticed ... *shakes self* Never mind. Where was I?]
For some reason, that prodded something in the back of Sam's mind. For some reason, that clicked something into place. And Sam stared. "That's why you did it," he whispered, blinking. "That's why ..." [Moving swiftly on ...]
Gabriel looked up at him, raised his head at Sam's tone, forehead wrinkling a bit. "Uh, Sammy? What I just said, wasn't it?" Sarcasm slipping back in on sheer autopilot, despite it all, and Sam had to take a little second to smile about that. [*smiles at Gabriel a little bit* He's tougher than he thinks, you know]
"Not that," he growled, grinning for a second, watching Trickster eyes light up a little in response. Then ... Then more serious. Because this ... "I meant the Mystery Spot," he said cautiously, and watched the archangel's face fall. "That's why you did it. That's why you did that. Isn't it?" [This is not the time to be bringing up old hurts, maybe, especially since things are going so well between them, but ... this needs airing. This needs explaining, if they're to get anywhere. And credit to Sam, he does get that]
"What's why I did what?" Gabriel asked lightly, but he was looking away again. "Gonna have to explain that one to me, Sammy." And maybe ... Maybe Sam did. Maybe he did have to explain it. Because he was beginning to think the reason Gabriel acted so randomly sometimes was because the archangel genuinely didn't understand his own reasons half the time. [Gabriel ... seems to act largely on instinct, doing whatever seems best to do at the time. I don't think he looks at his own motivations too closely. I don't think he dares, sometimes]
"You knew Dean was going to die, didn't you?" Sam whispered, leaning in gently, still holding one shoulder to keep Gabriel from leaning away. "You knew more than that. You knew we were vessels. Even then. You knew what we would have to do, if we said yes. You knew that. Didn't you?"
Gabriel bit his lip. Said nothing. But nodded, very, very faintly. [He had to. He had to know, and seeing Changing Channels before Mystery Spot has possibly seriously warped how I see that episode. But ... one in light of the other ... there are a lot of things that suddenly make sense. That wasn't a random lesson]
"And you tried to help me," Sam whispered, smiling just a little as the archangel's head came up in shock. "A hundred Tuesdays, six months after Wednesday ... you tried to show me what it was like to lose a brother. Tried to show me what I'd go through if I didn't leave then and there. Tried to show me what it was like to watch a brother die, over and over again. To watch a brother be taken away, just beyond reach, and I could get him back if only I could make the person who took him away see reason. You tried to show me that. Tried to make me avoid it if you could, and ... be able to survive it if you couldn't. Because you know what it's like a watch a brother get hurt, and not be able to do anything about it. To watch one be taken, and not be able to get him back. Don't you." [I don't know why he chose Sam, of the two brothers. Maybe only because Dean was the one going to die. Maybe because he was drawn to the younger Winchester, knowing who he was and the choices he'd made (Stanford, in particular, maybe), and wanted to help him survive what was coming. Or maybe pieces of something a little more twisted, and he wanted Sam(Lucifer) to watch Dean(Michael) fall, over and over again, the way the rest of them had to, and know it was his fault. Maybe a mix of a lot of things, actually ...]
Gabriel had paled. Paled even more than he had in the factory, and that probably shouldn't be possible. And Sam knew he was right. He knew he was right.
"Good lesson," he said quietly. "Good lesson, Gabriel. Except there's a problem. One little problem." He leaned in, nose to nose, watching those wary hazel eyes. Watching the fear there, the hope. "You gave him back," Sam said. "You gave Dean back to me. Because you're not Heaven, not Hell. Not God. Because you don't believe what they're saying. You don't believe it. You don't believe that you can't get your brother back. You don't believe that you're going to have to hurt them. You gave me my brother back, after half a year of trying to get me to abandon him, because I didn't abandon him, and that's what you understood. That's what you believed was right, in the end." [Because Sam fought, for his brother. Because Gabriel wanted that, wanted that to be true, wanted to believe his own brothers could maybe ... And Sam asked, Sam begged, and Gabriel is not heartless. He wishes he was, maybe, but he's not]
He leaned close, wrapped one hand around the back of Gabriel's neck, cradling the archangel's head gently even as they both trembled. Both shook.
"Your brothers tore you open, Gabriel," Sam whispered gently. "Lucifer, Raphael ... I don't know how many. But they hurt you. I know that. And after that, after they hurt you ... the one thing you still believe is that you're going to get them back. That you can challenge destiny like a Trickster, and get them back. Because they're your brothers, and even if they hurt you, you're going to fight for them. Even if they do this," a little gesture towards the scarred wings, a little flinch inside himself for the sight of them, "You're going to fight for them. And that ... That is not weak, Gabriel. That is so far from fucking weak." [It's not. It's not. And sometimes ... sometimes you really need to hear that. I think Gabriel did. I think so many of them did. Just for one person to say, I understand your choice. I understand why you did it. Sam does too. So much sometimes. I think ... if you give them time, if you let them explore so carefully ... this pairing really does make sense. There is so much between them, even though they didn't have much time together ...]
The archangel was crying silently, his hands locked around Sam's forearms, clutching them like he was trying to hold himself up by them, trying to keep himself from drowning. Gabriel was crying, and Sam never looked away. Never. Because this was important, and Gabriel needed to see. To understand. [There is a kind of love in not looking away. In seeing someone for who they are, and not looking away]
"You're not weak, Gabriel," he said again, very quietly. "Whatever they've said, whatever they've told you ... You're not weak, just because you don't want to hurt them. And we ... We're not Heaven either. We get it, Gabriel. We get it. Aziraphale and Crowley, they're here because after six thousand years as enemies, they can't bear to hurt each other anymore. Cas helped you, Cas was ready to die for you, because you're the first brother in more than a year who hasn't forced him to fight you, hasn't forced him to kill or die. And me and Dean ..." A small smile. "You've known since the Mystery Spot that we get it. Or you should have, anyway." [Team Free Will. Because at this stage, it doesn't matter who the hell is fighting for what, or who's right or wrong. What matters at this stage is that it needs to stop, because they can't bear to lose anymore. Any of them. Because this can't keep going]
Gabriel shook his head, mouth working soundlessly around the words, desperately. "Not ... not the same ... Sammy ..."
"Exactly the same," Sam corrected gently. "You want to keep your brothers. That's the same. You don't want to hurt them. That's the same. Every other bastard in Heaven or Hell wants you to hurt them, is trying to make you hurt them, and you're not going to. You've decided to say 'screw you' to all of them. That ... that is definitely the same." A little grin, a little smile, and he felt his heart lift as it coaxed an echo in the archangel beneath him. He felt his heart lift as Gabriel smiled. [Screw 'em. Screw the lot of them. We are not killing each other for some cause that has no meaning anymore. Sod the lot of them]
"You ... You have a slight advantage, Sammy," Gabriel murmured, but not as hopelessly as he might have. "Your brother isn't going to destroy the world." [Because ... there are some causes ... playing at this scale, you do need to recognise the cost to more than just yourself and those you love. But ... there might be another way, a way around, and they're not going to let the world fall, either]
Sam flinched a little, but did his best to smile. "No," he nodded. "No. We already have. First seal, last seal. And if they find a way to make us say yes, well ..." [And I don't think Sam is ever going to fully let go of the guilt of that. I don't think he can]
"They're not going to!" A snarl, suddenly, ripe and vicious, and the archangel was glaring at him from an inch away, damp eyes suddenly fierce and crackling with power. "You listen to me, Sam. They are not. Going. To. Not unless they've killed me and Cas and everyone else first. They are not getting you. Understood?" [Gabriel, though, is back in the present enough to have priorities again. As in, keeping his human safe and free]
Sam smiled a little. Just gently. "Or you," he whispered. "Or each other, if we have anything to do with it. That's the plan, remember? We're not going to let them fight. We're not going to let them die. Mostly because if they do, they take the world with them, of course, but ... They're your brothers. We do get that. We do understand that, Gabriel. If we didn't ... Aziraphale could have asked for something different, back there. He could have asked for a lot more than he did." He felt Gabriel shake, watched the eyes dip, and realised that Gabriel had known that. And feared it, too. Which told him ... a whole hell of a lot, actually. "He didn't ask," Sam said gently. "He's not going to ask. None of us are, Gabriel. Just ... can you trust that? Trust us? Please?" [They will do this for him. It's risky as hell, and honestly things would be easier if they could just do what they wanted to at the start, and kill the bastard, but ... they will do this for him]
For some reason, Gabriel smiled at that. A wobbly, lopsided thing, and for a second Sam thought it was the bitter smile from earlier, thought it was that hopeless thing, but ... it wasn't. It was sardonic, yes, and wounded, but it wasn't bitter. And it certainly wasn't hopeless. And then ... then Gabriel pulled gently on Sam's arms, implacably, and tugged Sam's hands down to rest ... to rest ... [And Sam passed his test, so now ... now Gabriel has to pass his. Sam has to understand, and Gabriel ... Gabriel has to let himself trust]
"I do trust you, Sammy," the archangel whispered, while Sam stared in shock and maybe terror at the feathers and raised scar tissue beneath his fingers. While Gabriel -Gabriel- offered him damaged wings. "That's maybe the problem. I'm afraid I trust you ... far more than I probably should." Quiet, nervous. "Far ... far more." [And gods almighty, but it is a terrifying thing. To hold yourself open. It is a terrifying thing. And again, the wings ...]
Sam stared. He stared. There was nothing ... he couldn't ... He stared. Because this ... and Lucifer had torn them, had torn them again, and Sam was Lucifer's vessel and in all the world there should be no-one Gabriel trusted less, not for this, no-one who reminded the archangel more of who had done this, who had hurt him, and here ... and here ... [When was the last time someone trusted Sam? Really trusted him? That's why Gabriel had to, if this was going to work, but ... Even for Sam, to have someone put something like that in your hands ... Again. Terrifying]
"I won't ... I won't hurt you," Sam whispered, almost desperately, his hand shaking among the feathers, trying to be gentle, more than gentle, and he had never regretted his size more, never regretted how huge he was, because his hand looked like nothing more than a weapon, a bludgeon, laid against those fragile feathers, those damaged, brittle bones. He smoothed them gently, traced fingers as lightly as was physically possible, because he couldn't pull away. Something told him that if he pulled away now, he'd break so much more than a wing. Something far more fragile. So he did his best to be gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you, Gabriel. Not ever." [... sorry, sorry, again with the image ... the hand, against the feathers ... sorry, where was I?]
Gabriel smiled shakily, more than a little desperate himself, and lifted his hands to catch Sam's face. Left Sam's hands free to do whatever the hell they wanted, while the archangel gently turned his head until he met those hazel eyes again. Gave Sam his wings in truth, offered them trembling while he clung. [... I'm sorry, I know I wrote this, I know it came out of my head, I know this is seriously stupid of me, to get affected by this, but ... But]
"I believe you," the archangel whispered. Terrified, trusting. Real. "I believe you, Sam. I believe in you."
The kiss that followed hurt more than anything Sam had ever felt, hollowed his chest until there was nothing but ache, nothing but love, hurt more than anything had a right to hurt, and it was all in Heaven or Earth that Sam wanted. It was all he wanted.
Because what the hell could you ask for worth more than an archangel's faith? [Trust and faith. And it's only once you have one that you can have the other. And I am shutting up now, because I had no idea ... did this thing make me this emotional when I wrote it? I've no idea, but ... Yeah. Shutting up now]
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