TrksterLOKId

On the second day, once he finally emerged, he talked about his wings. He’d roll his shoulders and stretch and say that it felt good to let them out. “Once I’m back in tip top shape I’m gonna take these babies for a test fly,” he smirked as if he’d never lost his spirit. You’d never seen his wings before but could imagine them, white maybe, or ruddy brown fanning out as the wind ruffled the feathers and he flew through the sky, between this plane and the next.

Instead of staying to listen to him you left the war room, making your way to the showers where you stood behind the curtain and let water fall over your body. You let your mind wander to this one time, you and the boys had gone to the coast for a case and you’d stopped at the beach. An incoming storm had pushed away the tourists and you stood in the downpour with the waves coming up and soaking the hem of your jeans. Just barely touching the sea and yet surrounded.

Then the third day came and you once again made your way to the surface. But this time Gabe followed you up. Barefoot so his feet could soak in the soil and the cold grass. You ignored him, or at least you pretended to as you moved through the trees, feeling the solid earth beneath the soles of your shoes.

You weren’t sure when exactly he went inside but at some point you realized he was no longer there. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had taken off again. And you weren’t sure that you wanted to find out, so instead of going back inside to check you waited until it got dark. Even then you waited, wasting your time by laying up against the side of the building and looking upwards at the moon and the stars. Familiar patterns you had learned long ago swirled among them and that was how you started the fourth day. It was long past midnight when you fell asleep in the brush, head slumping onto your shoulder.

A day later, on the fifth day you rode in the backseat of the impala with Gabriel. You had pressed yourself up against the door, the window down and a breeze blowing through your hair. It was becoming commonplace to see Gabe around again but the ache in your chest never left and so you kept your eyes closed, listening to the sound of the engine rumbling beneath you and birds calling in the trees. When you finally dared to open your eyes you spotted a hawk, fast and fierce as it swooped down from the tree, its wings spread wide in glory. And even though you wouldn’t look to see the angel beside you, you thought of him.  

Then on the sixth day you walked out of your room to find the archangel on the couch in front of the television watching some kind of nature documentary and eating handfuls of chocolate covered something. It was so casual that you froze and your hands clenched by your sides. You couldn’t focus on the lions and the gazelles, the bulls on the screen of the tv but on the back of Gabe’s head. His hair was more tamed than it had been when he’d been brought back to the bunker. At that point it had curled with dried blood and sweat making it stick up at odd angles. He must have been feeling better because he at least seemed to have put minimal grace into styling it on this day and there was a war inside of you that fought for how you should feel. Pushing it back down, you turned on your heel and headed back to your room.

When the seventh day came you were tired. For six days you had been fighting with yourself. The emotions coursing through you made you weak and shaky, on edge. Despite having taken so much time to yourself, despite the room that the two angels and the two brothers had given you, nothing had been able to heal that ache. Which was exactly what caused everything that happened as you stood in the kitchen.

You had been standing by the counter, holding a mug of fresh brewed coffee between your shaking hands. Your hip was digging into the edge and you used the pain to remind yourself to breathe normally. It had been a week since he’d come here, a week since you found out he was safe. A week since you found out he was alive.

In that week’s time he’d gone from a withdrawn shell of the angel you once knew to the happy go lucky archangel that had left you. He hadn’t spoken to you but you’d overheard Castiel talking to the boys about his time between then and now. You had pretended like you never knew, but you were sure Gabriel could tell. How could he not? You had barely looked at him since he got back. The way you had left things, you should have acted much differently, felt so much differently. And Gabriel let it slide.

For a full minute you had been staring into the black liquid in your cup, watching tendrils of steam rise into the air and the way it vibrated when you breathed a little too roughly or your hands shook too hard. The cavity of your chest felt tight, constricting the way your heart pounded against it. When you looked up you saw him sitting at the table. He had clearly been watching you from the way his body was facing your way, but at the moment he was chewing a chocolate donut with sprinkles, his eyes closed as if relishing the taste and everything shattered.

Without warning, a crash rippled through the air, and he opened his eyes.

Scalding coffee soaked your hands, the front of your shirt, and the bottom of your pajama pants. Shards of ceramic littered the floor but you didn’t look down. Instead you watched the way he rose from his chair, the donut suddenly vanished from his hand. His own eyes were flickering between the mess and you, your hands held out in front of you as if keeping the heat away from the rest of you. You watched the concern flash through his eyes and felt the sharp blade of betrayal twist in your gut. He had no right.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft and you sucked in sharply upon hearing it. He hadn’t spoken your name once since he’d been back. “Here.” He offered his hand, palm down as he reached for your arms. But the burn distracted you from other things and you jerked back.

“Don’t touch me.” Your voice rattled, your teeth gritted against the pain. “You don’t deserve-” you cut yourself off when he froze in his tracks. His eyes softened slightly but they never left you. Like sunshine through a glass of whiskey. It looked pretty but left with a burn.

“You’re hurt.” The words were simple, matter of fact.

“And whose fault is that?” you snapped in reply. You knew he was talking about the burns on your arms but that wasn’t what you were worried about. The burns would heal, but for all you knew, this feeling never would.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t shit with me, Gabriel. I know where you were. For eight years. Eight fucking years. It wasn’t the damn empty. It wasn’t where Cas went when he died. You went traversing the world and you left us. You left me. You let me think you were dead for eight fucking years!” Steadily your voice rose.

“I waited for it to be some stupid trick. For a year I waited, I wished... I would have given anything for you to not be dead. I could have forgiven you because I just wanted you back, but you never came back.

“Did you even care? Or was everything just a joke to you? Do I even want to know? I forced myself to give up on you... I had prayed to you and now I know you heard every fucking word! And you didn’t care. You never came back, you let me make a fool of myself every day and now you come back and you expect everything to go back to normal. No. No! Fuck you, Gabe! Fuck you and the past eight years! No. Not the past eight years. Every second before that when I let myself believe that you actually gave a damn about someone besides yourself.”

You stepped around to the sink, turning your back to him as you turned on the water and ran your hands under it. The last thing you wanted was his help.

“You don’t deserve to come back here and have everyone let you off because you went through a bad time. You put that on yourself, Gabe. And you aren’t the only one who had a bad fucking time. I had to deal with shit too, and now I know you could hear me...” your chest heaved pushed the faucet up higher, wincing at the rush of water against your skin and you leaned your elbows on the edge of the counter, folding yourself over it and hanging your head. “You shouldn’t have come back. I was happy. I was finally happy again and you ruined it.”

Silence fell between the two of you and you bit your trembling bottom lip. When your knees felt too weak you shakily stopped the flow of water and turned around, sliding down until your butt hit the tile floors. You didn’t care if Gabriel saw. He’d heard so many things, you were sure that nothing could be worse than that.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to kneel in front of you, using a hand on the table to help him get down. He took in an audible breath that he didn’t need. “I was afraid.” His hands reached for yours once more and again you pulled back out of reach, one knee pulled up to your chest and the other leg sprawled in front of you.

“Afraid to come back?” you scoffed. “Afraid you’d lose your freedom?” One eyebrow cocked upwards and you bit down on the inside of your cheek this time.

“Afraid to fight,” he sighed, his hands falling down to his knees. They were healed now but you’d seen them when he first came in. Covered in dried blood and scars, knuckled bruised, palms with dirt in all the lines and creases. “I’ve always been afraid to fight. And even with for you... I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill my brother.” There was a long pause.

“And what about after? What about after Sam sacrificed himself and Dean found his own life and Cas went off to wherever he went and I was alone? I was so alone, Gabe. I had no one. Or even after that? There was eight years in between then and now and not all of it was fighting. What could you possibly have been afraid of then?” You glanced up and met his eyes finally. His entire face seemed to sag, shoulders slumping.

“You, kiddo,” he let his tongue jet out to swipe across his lower lip. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how I failed you. I thought you’d be mad. Hell, you’re still mad. I didn’t want you to know I failed you so badly.”

“So you’d rather just abandon me?” your voice shook.

His head lowered and he stared at his hands. “No, that’s not... I know that’s what I did. But I hadn’t thought about it like that. I would never abandon you. I thought... I thought I was doing you a favor. I’m sorry I left you like that, kiddo...”

The sound of the nickname he’d given you so many years ago sent a shiver through you. It had been frequent for a whole year. Until your relationship progressed and it had fallen to a special time and place name in favor for something more playful. You had missed that and you let your head fall back against the wood of the cabinet and your eyes closed, a rogue tear leaking from the corner of your eye and down your cheek.

“Y/N,” his voice was desperate now. “Please, don’t do that Sugar... I’m not worth that.”

“I missed you so much,” your voice was barely audible and you heard the rustle of his jacket as he shifted.

“I missed you too. I never stopped thinking about you. There were places I went... I wanted to show you. I still do if you’ll let me one day. I’ll wait for you. I’m here now and I’ll do what it takes to prove to you that I’m here to stay.” Once more he reached out for your hands, and this time you let him. He didn’t really have to touch you to heal you, but it helped him. He wanted to see what hurt. Just by your fingertip brushing him he could feel everything you let him and he frowned, letting his grace heal the burns on your skin. It was a fast process but he didn’t drop your hand even then. His fingers just barely clung onto yours.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Gabe. I’m sorry I said what I did. You didn’t deserve that, no matter what I’ve been through,” you stared at where his hand held yours.

“I can’t say I agree with you there,” his chin brushed as chest when he looked down. “I’ve done a lot of things, and what I did to you was probably one of the worst. It sure feels that way. I just wish I would have gotten the chance to tell you on my own. Didn’t want you to find out this way...”

“And how long would you have waited, Gabe? You ran away for centuries from your family. I don’t have centuries. I’m a human. A century is pushing it for me, especially with the kind of life I live. And you know that.”

He winced slightly and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that. I know. I want to take it all back, and I’m sure I could... but who knows how that would change the future. For all I know you might not even be here today,” Gabe chewed on his lower lip. “If you really wanted me to-”

“Stop it. I don’t want that. Just... don’t leave me again...” your voice was tired, defeated in a manner. But you felt lighter now, like you could breathe again. You weren’t sure how long you had been without it but you felt like you finally had the air you needed.

“I won’t,” he said, the words simple but his eyes holding a promise only you could understand. You nodded a little and looked back down at his hands. For a moment everything was silent before he stood up and offered you his own hand to help you up. You took it and he pulled you up, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. It looks like we both have some healing to do and there’s nothing better for healing than ice cream,” he smirked and you couldn’t help but chuckle as he led you into the next room.

Your own heart was pounding so hard the blood was rushing in your ears. There was no telling what was going on but your instincts knew whatever it was, was life or death. Your own mind wouldn’t comprehend how dire the situation was until later.

The door had been all the way across the room and it felt like you were running towards it in slow motion. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see people falling, climbing over one another in order to escape. Someone rammed into you from the side and you caught yourself, pushing forward to the doors only to find them locked. They were all locked and everyone was trapped inside the horror house. Looking desperately to the world outside a glass door and instead you find a reflection of someone standing behind you, their eyes black as the night outside.

Somehow the scream you were holding inside of you didn’t rip from your throat. Instead you duck back through the crowd, kicking off your heels so you could run. You felt something hot and sticky squelch between your toes, heavily saturated into the carpet but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t think you wanted to know what it was. Instead, you find a coat closet, slipping into the darkness and locking the door behind you, barricading it, and pressing yourself to the back wall behind the jackets hung up from the unusually chilly spring night. Sobs are muffled behind your hand and you wait. At one point someone or something is banging at the door, begging you to let them in, but you’re frozen in place.

It could have been hours or minutes until the sounds die down. But time seemed to play out differently. When it happened, the silence wasn’t complete. There were sounds like crying and groaning, but it was silent enough. No more screams, no more thuds of what you assumed to be bodies falling to the floor. Yet you still didn’t move. You were far too afraid of what might be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Out of the silence, there was a knock at your door. Then someone tried to turn the handle. You couldn’t see it, but you could hear it and you pressed further back into the corner, trying to hide yourself. The air in your lungs couldn’t seem to get in fast enough and your nails bit into your palms. Someone was calling out, but you couldn’t make out words from the sound of static in your ears. A crack split the tension in the air and despite yourself you let out a sob, feet scrambling to push you further away from whoever was entering your safe place. When the coats in front of you parted your sobs turned into screams as you panicked, clawing at the arms that tried to hold you down.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. It’s okay. I’m with the police,” the man in front of you called out. It was a man. Your eyes focused enough to try to take him in. Brown shaggy hair, dressed in a suit and coat, and hazel eyes. Not black. “It’s over. You’re okay. Come on, let me help you out,” he offered you his hands and your legs shook as they struggled to hold your weight. He held you for a second, rubbing your back as you pressed your face into his chest, trying to steady yourself. Then he was guiding you out and some morbid part of you dared to peek around the room.

Immediately you wished you hadn’t. There was blood everywhere, you could even smell the stench of iron and something that smelled like rotten eggs. The man who was guiding you quickly pressed your face back into his chest. “Don’t look, just keep your eyes closed. I’ve got you,” he whispered. But it was too late. The last thing you saw of the house were the eyes of your roommate, cold and dead, her throat slit as she slumped over the back of the couch.

Other people, officers had been scattered around the yard and the house. They were calling it a massacre. Someone on drugs. Or a gang. But you knew better, and the man in the suit, and another whom he called his partner, believed you. There was something about them that you trusted. They were all knowing it seemed, wise beyond their years.

Those two were the first introduction you had to the world of the supernatural, the monsters under your bed and in your nightmares. The taller of the two, Sam, had been the one to find you in the closet. He’d also been the one to talk his brother, Dean as you soon learned, into telling you about the real world, the one you’d never seen. Then, before they left town they’d given you their numbers.

“In case of emergency,” Dean had said gruffly, shoving the card into your palm. You had nodded silently, almost dreading them leaving. After all, you still had the aftermath of the party to deal with, trying to pick up the pieces of your now broken life.

The following months consisted of nightmares of that night, therapy sessions, and trying to find a job to no avail. No one wanted a traumatized medical intern who upon seeing blood would start hyperventilating. Your life since that night, had hit a point of no return. Or so it felt like. On top of that, you couldn’t get the paranoia of monsters out of your head. You always though that something was off. Research didn’t do you much good since every article pointed in an entirely different direction.

This led you to staring at the numbers in your phone, tongue sliding over dry lips. It wasn’t an emergency, but you couldn’t live like this. So you opted for Sam’s number. He’d been alarmed at first until you clarified. You found your situation to be embarrassing at first to explain to the man who seemed to know it all about what you’d been dealing with. But Sam was understanding and kind, and then he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

Dean hadn’t been happy at first about you moving into the bunker. Another mouth to feed, another person to protect from whatever happened there. But he was quick to warm up, especially once he found out you had a knack for baking pie, and your medical history came in handy on more than one occasion. Though the pie was probably his favorite thing.

Pie seemed to be your handiest thing. It was all domestic work it seemed. Cleaning, cooking, all of the stuff the boys were never around to do. That’s how you earned your keep. You couldn’t shoot a gun, and going through book upon book was easy for you, but fairly helpless since you knew next to nothing about the basics. But you were learning on both. Sam would sit down with you while he was home and would teach you what he could, answering any questions you had. Meanwhile, Dean tried to teach you how to shoot and fight. You had a steady hand and good eye, as a medical student tended to, so you were fairly good but you could always use some practice and for the moment, Dean didn’t want you in the range while he wasn’t there to supervise. You figured that was fair enough since you kept forgetting to keep the safety on. So you cooked, you cleaned, you tried to make their lives easier.

It was late one night on a baking spree that you met him. You’d been up for hours, your schedule being rather screwed up from the darkness of the bunker, and it was nearly three in the morning. So you’d been baking. Muffins, cookies, a pie or two for Dean. You were currently in the middle of some croissants when you heard a fluttering behind you. Normally you presumed it to be Cas, the third of the trio of hunters. Well, technically, Cas was an angel. But they were a team, a family even. He stopped by frequently to check in with you and the brothers. However, looking up, you caught your gaze on a striking man in a green army jacket, blonde hair swept back, and whiskey colored eyes admiring a cookie that he was already munching on.

You weren’t sure if you should be scared or agitated by this presence and you froze where you were. The brothers had certainly never mentioned an angel like him before. He finished off the cookie in your silence before brushing the crumbs from his hands, using the thighs of his jeans, then licking off the chocolate that had stuck to his bottom lip. “Compliments to the chef,” his voice was like honey and he finally glanced up at you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh what’s that look for? You never seen an archangel before? Don’t tell me the boys haven’t told you about me,” he sighed and shook his head.

“They aren’t here right now, if you’re looking for them,” you muttered, mouth dry. It wasn’t until after the words escaped your lips that you realized you probably shouldn’t be telling the guy you were here alone. “Wait... archangel?” Your eyebrows raised in curiosity. “As in Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel-”

“Gabriel, at your service,” he gave a play bow. “But you can call me Gabe.” He winked before grabbing up another cookie and you wanted to complain but you weren’t sure who was going to finish all of them anyways. “Is this your job around here? Regular house service for the Winchesters.”

“Just until I learn how to handle my own in the field,” you pressed your lips into a thin line at the remark and he raised his hands up in defense.

“Whatever you say, sweet cheeks. I’ll come back later, hopefully when the boys get back.”

Part of you wanted to huff out that you hoped he didn’t but before you could even dwell on it he’d disappeared again.

That was the first time you saw him, but it certainly wasn’t the last. The first few months you’d been around he’d been a no show, then after that first time it was like clockwork every week. Whether the boys were around or not.

Dean had made it very clear he wasn’t okay with Gabe popping in when they weren’t there, but of course Gabe couldn’t have cared less about the elder brother’s threats. Despite yourself, sometimes you couldn’t either. It was really a love hate relationship in a lot of ways. He was snarky, an asshole at times, pushing you to your limits and beyond. But he could be sweet too, and not just when you were baking.

One time he’d shown up while you were in the middle of a nasty flu. You’d been bedridden for longer than you would have liked and hadn’t changed in days. When he’d shown up you hadn’t even heard him from your room and he’d searched all over until he found you in bed, shivering despite the covers pulled tight around you. His eyes had been filled with what you assumed was concern as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“You’re sick,” he’d breathed out as he gave you a once over and you narrowed your eyes as much as you could manage without your head throbbing.

“No shit,” you muttered, throat aching with effort.

Gabriel hadn’t made any sort of retort at that which was surprising. Sometimes you didn’t understand how so much sarcasm could fit inside of him. He wasn’t short compared to you by any means, but compared to the winchesters it seemed like it. But there were no witty comments or side notes. Instead he silently reached over, brushed back your hair and pressed his palm to your forehead. At first you were more than confused as to what he was doing, until you felt warmth spreading through your body and you gasped. Usually Gabe used his angel mojo with a snap of his fingers which you assumed he did because it looked cool. Of course this time had been different. He’d been gentle, and it had been personal.

He’d left soon after that, but you couldn’t help yearn for the tenderness he’d shown you that night. Many times you caught yourself thinking about him. How, if he’d stop insulting you throughout the day, and started acting like the guy... or angel you knew he could be, then you’d probably fall for him. Fast and hard at that. But the other seemed oblivious about your thoughts and continued to pester you.

In fact, the nuisances seemed to get stronger the longer he knew you. He always had something to say, and it started off small, with the shoes you wore, or the way you put your feet up on the coffee table despite him doing the same damn thing. But it was getting worse, more personal. You’d found yourself, more than once, feeling a little injured by what he’d said to you and although you brushed it off in front of everyone, when you were alone you couldn’t help running the words through your head over and over, trying to discern how much of them were true.

All of it came to a head, late one fall night. The boys were both home and you were in the kitchen, once again baking. It was nearing Halloween and pumpkin everything seemed to be laid out on the counters of the kitchen. Your baking was one thing Gabriel never criticized and while he was in the other room talking about something with the boys, you busied yourself in here, hoping to avoid any comments today. You’d had a low day already, starting by waking yourself up early that morning in a nightmare.

For a long time the nightmares had stopped but after an attempt at the boys bringing you along on the case, they started coming back. Things hadn’t worked out so well and despite having stayed behind to do research, you’d found yourself at the hands of yet another demon. This time you knew what it was and despite having the feeling that it was there to use you rather than kill you, your fears were unparalleled. You had never been given your own demon killing knife and an angel blade was much too heavy to be properly balanced in your hand until you trained more. So you were at the mercy of the demons, and the boys once they broke down the hotel door to rescue you like you were some damsel in distress. It was enough having to have them save you once, but twice seemed like overkill. Especially when you couldn’t return the favor.

So the nightmare had woken you and you’d been too afraid to go to sleep. You’d gone down to the gym to work over the punching bag a few times, but with the boys gone so often you didn’t really ever get to train anymore. You read all the books you could in the library, and you research game was better than ever. Sometimes the guys would call you on a hunt so you could actually help out. But without someone there to guide you, you couldn’t practice shooting, or hand to hand anything. It was a feeling of complete uselessness that left you downtrodden after that. From there it was like all of the things that had been afflicting you were just dog piling on emotionally. Something small would throw itself on top, you were sure, and you’d just break.

Which was why you were focusing on baking. You could focus on the smell of pumpkin. Halloween used to be one of your favorite holidays. Of course it was all different now that you knew the monsters little kids dressed up as were real. But some of it still made you happy and pumpkin was certainly one of the things.

After pulling out a tray of pumpkin tarts you set them on the oven to cool, slipped the mitts off your hands and leaned back against the counter, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths of the spiced scent. It was almost like if you could breathe deep enough then it would become a permanent smell, wherever you went. You felt your shoulders relax and rested your head back against the cabinets, a small smile forming on your face.

“Something smells good,” a voice broke through your moment and you simultaneously felt a sense of pride and one of dread. But you forced it back down and opened your eyes, meeting Gabe’s as he reached for one of the tarts. You slapped his hand away with a small tsk.

“Not yet, I just pulled them out of the oven,” you scolded.

“I’m an angel. They won’t burn me,” he rolled his eyes and reached again. Once more you slapped his hand away with an eye roll of your own.

“Yes, I realize that. But I just want to enjoy seeing them for a minute before you start eating them alright? Go try some of the muffins. They’re still warm, and extra moist!” You pointed him towards the tray on the other side of the kitchen.

“I hate the word moist...” he groaned.

“Yes, but you don’t hate muffins.”

“I’ll give you that,” he offered you a smile and walked across to grab one from the tin. For a moment you thought that for once this month you were going to have a good experience with him. It was a nice though while it lasted. “You know, I’m glad you were never any good in the field. That means you can stay here and bake more. I’m sure the boys love you cleaning up their messes too.”

It was an offhanded comment that came as you put a spoon into the sink and were beginning to wash it. But as soon as the words left his mouth you dropped the spoon back in, turned the water off and turned to face him.

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrowed, nose wrinkled in annoyance.

“What? It’s not some kind of secret. When I first saw you, you said this was only temporary. I guess we both know better. Some people are just... better in the field, and some... well they aren’t,” he shrugged.

“It is temporary. Dean’s just always too busy anymore to train me,” you huffed.

“Yeah, we’ll see how that goes for you.” There was a snort the echoed from him and somehow made your pulse rise.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Gabe observed you for a moment over his muffin as he polished it off and snapped his fingers, making the wrapper disappear. “Don’t think the boys didn’t mention the little incident when they last took you out. You couldn’t even pull yourself together. You think they’d ever let you out hunting demons?” he laughed dryly and at the word demons you flinched. You weren’t sure if it was from memories, or from the way Gabe nearly spat it at you. “See, you can’t even hear the word without getting all worked up. You just weren’t made for fighting. You can’t defend yourself, you still don’t know half of what there is to know about the world of monsters and whatever. I honestly don’t know why the brothers even took you in.”

Okay, that stung. You dropped the dishtowel you’d been using to dry your hands on the countertop and took a moment to debate what you wanted to say. Slowly, then all at once words came rushing out of you before you could stop them. “At least I have enough courage to try. That’s what you lack. Courage, balls, whatever you want to call it. They’ve told me tons of stories about you too, how you tried to get them to fight so you wouldn’t have to, hiding yourself from your family because you were scared. Yeah, well I’m scared too but at least I try to help. I’m not just going to sit back on the sidelines and watch the world burn because when God made me he didn’t forget the backbone. And I don’t’ have time to listen to spineless angels who think they run the joint.” Your arms crossed over your chest, letting the venom fall from your lips. Gabriel had hurt you for the last time, and you wanted him to know what it felt like.

And for a moment, the look on his face was all the satisfaction you needed. Then it changed, morphed into something terrifying that you knew you didn’t want to face. The expression on your own face slipped as you backed up a bit.

“You have the audacity to talk to me about courage?” he took a step towards you, face hard, eyes even harder as they held you in a glare. “Who’s the one who came running to the Winchesters to fix all your problems? Who’s the one who hid in a closet while their friends were slaughtered instead of trying to fight. Don’t think I don’t know about when you were hiding in that closet, and someone was banging on the door, pleading for you to let them in, to help them, and you sat there and let them die on the other side,” his words taunted you and reached places you hadn’t dared to tell anyone about. “The guilt is all over you, it’s in your head screaming so loud, how could I not hear it?” his backed you up further and you took a little step to the side. “You’re the one who worked your whole life to become a doctor, only to throw it all the way because the sight of blood makes you sick. If anyone’s spineless, it’s you. I’ve known a lot of humans in my day, a lot of bad ones, but I think you’re the most pathetic.”

The rushing in your ears was back as he cornered you in. Fight or flight instincts took on a mind of their own. First you tried to flee. Reaching back behind you as you tripped over his foot your hand landed right on the hot pan you’d just stuck on the oven. You cried out in pain, falling to the floor as your palm seared. Then he was reaching down for you. There were tears on your face now and you weren’t sure if it was from the panic, the pain, or his words. But when you saw him reaching for you, you did the only other thing you could think of. Your good hand came up, slapping him across the cheek as hard as you could before you scrambled to your feet and booked it to your room. You weren’t sure when the brothers had gotten there, but you passed them on the way to your room, watching like it was some television soap opera gone bad.

Emotions were flooding you in so many forms. You slammed the door closed behind you and locked it, crawling into your bed and underneath the covers, despite being extra warm from being in the kitchen earlier. Something in you just needed the illusion of safety they brought. Grabbing them, you hissed in pain and looked back down at your palm.

It was already red as if a layer of skin had been left on the pan though you knew better. The area was swelling slightly and you knew it was going to blister. Common sense and medical training told you that you should run it under cold water, apply some antibiotic cream and bandage it. However, all of those required you to leave your room.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was standing stricken back in the kitchen, both brothers giving him admonishing glares. One hand went up to his face. Naturally the slap hadn’t hurt his face in the least bit, but it was more or less the fact that you had slapped him at all that left him dumbstruck.

“I’m gonna go check on her. You get him out of here,” Dean growled, sending a ruinous glare in Gabe’s direction. He turned on his heel, heading back towards your room.

Sam stood there, the anger clear in his own expression. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I think it’s time you leave.” His arms were crossed tightly against his chest, just as your own had been moments earlier.

Gabe’s gaze lingered in space for a moment before his eyes settled back on Sam. “Sam... I...” he muttered, seemingly in shock. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It sounded like you meant it. I don’t know what she ever did to you to make you think that picking on her like that is okay. It’s one thing when you do it to us and find stupid shit to poke fun at, but you don’t do that with her. You dig and dig until you find something you know will upset her.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t want to hurt her, dumbass,” Gabe’s face changed again into indignation.

“Well you do a shit poor job of avoiding that. You need to leave,” Sam’s chin jutted out a little even as he glared down at the angel.

“I... she was hurt. I need to go check on her,” Gabe shook his head and started to march past Sam who simply sidestepped to block him.

“Are you really stupid enough to think that she’s going to let you in that room right now? Dean will check on her.”

For a moment, Gabe though of Sam’s words and his face went slack because he knew Sam was right. There was no way you’d want to see him. Not now, probably not ever again. He stood there, frozen, in the kitchen.

Sam meanwhile was studying him, reading him like an open book. “Don’t even tell me...” he huffed out, almost angered by the prospect. “You like her, don’t you?” his eyes narrowed. It was easy enough to see from the pain in his eyes at the mention of you not wanting to see him. Gabe didn’t deflate easily, but Sam had known him long enough to know he was deflated them. He’d seen it once before when they’d forced him to talk about his family the first time, right after they found out who he was. Something touchy and personal. Just thinking about it gave way to another clue.

“You’re afraid of rejection, aren’t you? That’s why you act like that. Because that’s what you do. All that bravado, all those witty comebacks... Just to hide how terrified you really are.” Sam shook his head. “It’s just like the apocalypse all over again, all those games you had to play until we finally got you to admit what your motive was. I can’t believe you haven’t learned since then...”

“Sam, I have to talk to her,” Gabe finally spoke. He could easily just snap himself around the hunter, or even directly into your room if he really wanted. But he didn’t. For some reason he felt the need to do this the right way.

“It’s not gonna be that easy. I’m pretty sure Dean would stab you on the spot if he saw you even try to get close to her room,” Sam was almost amused now at that prospect.

“Then at least let me heal her. Dean can check on her, but he can’t heal her. I saw what happened,” Gabe pressed and Sam’s mouth twisted in thought before stepping out of the angel’s way.

“It’s your funeral,” he shrugged. Gabe didn’t respond to that. Instead he made his way to your room, silent, and cautious.

You hadn’t even been locked in your room for a full minute before there was a knock at your door. At first you didn’t even respond, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. But they didn’t.

“Y/N, hey, it’s me,” Dean’s voice was soft, just as gruff as it always was but in the sweetest way.

“Really don’t want to talk right now,” you called out, trying to catch your breath.

“Good thing I don’t need you to talk. Just open the door for me okay?”

You wanted to argue but at the same time you felt empty and lonely inside and part of you lifted at the thought of Dean being there for you. So you slid out of bed, unlocked the door and climbed back in before Dean walked in.

The lights to your room were off so he wouldn’t be able to see your tear stained face, especially when you were laying down with your back turned to him. You heard the door open, and his sigh as he made his way over and sat down on the edge of your bed.

“You know what he said isn’t true right?” Dean ran a hand down your back. You resisted relaxing into the touch for a moment before you sighed and nodded.

“I know...”

“I’m sorry I’m not around more to help you. I know I promised I’d teach you to do these things and I’m always gone,” he shook his head. “That’s on me. And that bastard shouldn’t be using it against you.”

Dean had a tendency to blame himself for things. It hadn’t taken you long to figure that out after you arrived. He’d beat himself up silently for days and you weren’t going to let this turn into one of those situations. So you sat up, turned on your bedside lamp and turned around to face him.

“It’s not your fault either. Some people aren’t born to fight. Maybe that’s just me. After all, I went to medical school. I want to save lives. Maybe I just morally can’t take them,” you smiled a little at the thought and Dean smiled too, wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin. You sat there for a little bit, calming down. Then Dean was letting you go and you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you sighed.

“How about I go grab some of the pumpkin pie out there and we can share it huh? Don’t even have to leave your bed. I know we have a new can of whipped cream out in the fridge,” Dean offered and you grinned, looking up at him, about to tell him how good that sounded when you caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway.

You pursed your lips, looking away and shifting just slightly closer to Dean. Dean himself noticed where your eyes fell, how your expression changed and he glanced up. Before you knew what was happening, Dean had stood up, in front of you, blocking your view of the angel in the doorway and vice versa.

“I though we told you to go. I think you’ve done enough here,” Dean started making his way to the door and from behind him you could hear the other’s reply.

“I just... I feel bad-”

“Oh look, maybe the tin man has a heart after all,” Dean snorted.

“I want to heal her hand. She hurt herself. I’m the only one right now who can do it, just let me see her,” Gabe’s voice rose a little.

You turned your palm back over again, watching the shiny red patch that was oozing slightly, wet already as it was preparing to blister. It did hurt. Nothing was going to stop the pain except for Gabe right now since Cas had gone off on his own little adventure and the boys had no clue where he was.

“Let him in,” you called out and they both went silent from where they had started bickering while you were in thought. Dean turned around, silently asking if you were sure once more. “My hand hurts. I’d rather have him heal it than have to suffer, it’s the least he can do.”

Dean seemed mildly satisfied by this answer but shot a warning glare to the archangel before leaving the two of you alone. Gabriel didn’t move from his spot despite having begged Dean to let him in.

“You said you were going to heal my hand,” you held it up pointedly and he stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. “What are you trying to-”

“Stop. Please. I have something that I need to say,” Gabe sat himself at the foot of your bed, a good distance away.

“I think you’ve said quite enough to me. Not just today, but every damn time you come here,” you set your jaw, watching him carefully.

“You’re right,” he nodded and averted his gaze, looking down at his own hands. “You’re more than right. Not just about this but... what you said about me. I’m a coward. I can’t stand my own and I hurt the people I care about because I don’t know how to let them into my life. I’m... terrified.”

“What are you talking about?”  

“You, I’m talking about you,” his voice cracked into a whisper and he managed to glance up at you from the edge of the bed. “I met you, and you were funny, and you made the best damn pastries I’ve had in a long time. I don’t feel like I can let people near me because if they know who I am, then they’ll realize I’m not all that great. I’m not worth any of it. And I couldn’t handle that from you. So I played stupid kindergarten games, like when parents tell their daughters a boy hits them because they like them. That’s no way to show anyone you care about them and I hurt you. I didn’t think... I didn’t know I always upset you so much. But today? I saw it. And you were scared of me. The look you gave me, made me feel like I was the monster. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say to that,” you replied. What did apologies mean? Sure he’d never apologized to you before, and he surely never looked like he did right at that moment, like a puppy who’d just been dropped off at the pound.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just... I wanted to give you an explanation. I know it’s not a good one, but the truth isn’t always great. And neither am I. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that, and I never meant for you to get hurt either,” his eyes landed on your hand that you’d been cradling in your other.

Despite knowing that Gabe could easily heal you from where he was, you voluntarily held out your hand to him. He let his eyes flash between your hand and your own gaze and when you gave him a small nod he scooted closer and took it in his hand. At first it burned, the rough feeling of his calloused palm scraping against your own wounded one. But then it was warm and it was like being burned but in reverse, ending in a cool spot where your wound had just been. Gabe immediately went to pull his hand back, but you held on, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I did either. I wanted to hurt you, to make you have a taste of your own medicine. And that was wrong of me. You aren’t who you used to be. That’s why you’re always here, helping Sam and Dean. You’re not sitting on the sidelines anymore, you go out and you help people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still upset, but I forgive you. And Gabe?” you said softly, waiting until he looked at you. “You shouldn’t worry so much about feeling like people won’t want you around. I’ve known about you for a long time, about what happened. That didn’t stop me from wanting to impress you. Why do you think I still bake all the time? It would be a waste if no one came around to eat them all. Even Dean doesn’t have an appetite that big.”

“So, if I ask you out properly, will you say yes?” Gabe’s face brightened a little, a bit of his cocky attitude coming back through.

“On one condition,” you held up a finger to pause him.

“Anything,” he was quick to nod.

“You have to prove to me that you’re gonna change. I can’t do this if you’re gonna keep going around and throwing out insults. That’s not how a relationship works.”

“Most women wouldn’t even give me a chance after what I did, there’s no way in hell I’m going to blow this. I promise,” he was full on grinning at this point. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell you everything that I think is perfect about you. You might be the doctor that knows how to fix broken arms, and broken ribs, but I know how to fix broken hearts,” he smiled.

“Is this some kind of Dr. Sexy M.D. reference? Because usually you have to buy me a drink first...”

“No, of course not. I mean unless you want to-” he cut himself off at your look and he nodded. “We can start with eating all that stuff you baked out there and watching movies all night long. That’s kind of a date right?”

“See now you’re just trying to give me a stomach ache,” you teased him, a half smile on your face.

“I would never,” he laughed and you just shook your head.

“Okay, one dessert. Your choice,” you conceded. “Anything but the pie of course. That’s already promised to Dean.”