Fic: Heaven Has Denied Us
Nov. 7th, 2018 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Heaven Has Denied Us
Category: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam, Gadreel, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 3,971
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Months after his supposed death, Gadreel shows up at the bunker, badly injured but very much alive. Sam takes care of him, and they discover an affinity.
Warnings: Reference to one past instance of self-injury
A/N: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_reversebang, with beautiful art by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sastmk. The title is from the song “Straight To You” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, which has a Sam/Gadreel feel to me, especially in the last verse. Huge thanks to Nevanna for the invaluable beta read!
Art Links: AO3 | tumblr
Read on AO3
***
When Castiel told Sam that Gadreel had died, Sam barely took the information in. Devastated by Dean’s death and in turmoil over his disappearance, Sam’s mind was reeling. He felt like he was being pressed to death, the weight on his chest unbearable, and he could barely breathe. So it wasn’t until much later, when he’d calmed down a little, that he thought over Cas’ words, his surprisingly sad tone.
“He died a hero,” Castiel had said. “He spoke of regret, and redemption, and of wanting to protect humanity.”
Despite everything, Sam felt a little stab of pain. He reminded himself that Gadreel had possessed him without his true consent; that he had killed Kevin, and others. Sam still had nightmares about it.
But he knew what it was to have regrets. He remembered the hurt he’d sensed, from his memories of his time as Gadreel’s vessel. And Gadreel had done his best to make good. He’d given his life for it.
Sam swallowed down a lump in his throat, and went back to searching for Dean. He didn’t think of Gadreel often after that, except for when he woke up sweating and shaking, seeing his hand on Kevin’s head, Kevin’s eyes turning to twin suns in his face.
And then, months later, after Dean was home and more or less himself again, Sam came home from a grocery run to find Gadreel huddled on the ground by the entrance to the bunker.
***
He was sitting on the hill, near the door, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. Sam recognized him immediately, and got out of the Impala slowly, gun raised, alarmed and suspicious. Gadreel didn’t move.
“Sam Winchester,” he said. He sounded exhausted, and he looked pale and drawn. “This is a warmer reception than I had anticipated.”
“Gadreel?” Sam demanded. “How – Cas said you were dead.”
“I was supposed to be. I very nearly was.”
“What happened to you?”
“I was thrown from Heaven by the blast. I tumbled into the Mediterranean Sea.”
“Why didn’t you die?”
“I do not know.” Gadreel tried to smile. “Perhaps God forgave me, at last.”
Sam took a step closer to him, pointing his gun at the ground, but not putting it away. “What’s wrong with you?”
“My healing has been very slow. My grace is mostly depleted.” Gadreel slowly unwrapped his arms from around his knees and straightened his legs, wincing with pain. Sam couldn’t suppress a hiss of sympathy when he saw the blood staining Gadreel’s white t-shirt.
Gadreel sighed. “Perhaps God has not forgiven me entirely.”
“Yeah, or maybe that kamikaze spell you did really messed you up,” Sam said. “Why are you here?”
Gadreel’s eyes looked so old. “I did not know where else to go…All I ask is a safe place to rest until my grace is restored, enough so that I can heal this wound. Then I will never bother you again.” His gaze was steady, and sad. “I know I do not deserve your help. But I am compelled to ask for it.”
Sam examined him for a long moment. Finally, he clicked the safety back on his gun, and tucked it into his waistband again. “Let me talk to Dean,” he said.
***
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” Dean shouted.
“Dean, listen,” Sam said. “I know what he did.”
“He killed Kevin! While wearing your meatsuit!”
“And whose fault is that?” Sam shouted, exasperated.
Dean, who had been about to go on, shut his mouth abruptly.
“I know better than anyone what he did,” Sam said. “But he tried to redeem himself, in the end. He was ready to die for humanity! He deserves another chance!” In the back of his mind, Sam wondered why he was defending Gadreel so passionately. He’d hated him, for awhile, for all he’d done. But Gadreel had looked so pathetic, sitting there on the ground, in pain, asking for help.
Dean grimaced. “Great, you’ve got your stubborn face on,” he grumbled. He grabbed a tumbler and the whiskey decanter and poured himself a drink, taking a quick swallow before he spoke again. “All right, fine. But I’m not playing nursemaid or whatever for him. This isn’t a house for wayward angels. And you better put the cuffs on him.”
***
Once Sam had led Gadreel past Dean, who was glowering suspiciously, and into one of the spare bedrooms in the barracks, he uncuffed him. Gadreel looked surprised.
“No shackles?” he said, uncertainly.
“You should probably wear them around Dean, for awhile,” Sam said. “But as far as I’m concerned, you’re trustworthy.”
Gadreel looked more surprised, but only nodded and didn’t comment.
“I guess your bandages need to be changed,” Sam said, looking again at the blood staining Gadreel’s t-shirt. “Want some help?”
“Bandages?”
Sam blinked. “You haven’t bandaged yourself up?”
“What need has an angel with bandages?”
Sam huffed a laugh. “Obviously some, in this case. I’ll get the first aid kit. You take off your shirt.”
He quickly retrieved the kit and returned to Gadreel’s room. Gadreel had shed his jacket, but not his shirt.
“It’s stuck,” he informed Sam.
Sam winced. “Okay. I’d better cut it off you.”
“This is my only shirt.”
“I’ll give you another. Sit down with your back to me.”
Gadreel sat down on the bed. Sam cut the shirt open in the back and through the sleeves, then had Gadreel turn around. He tried to peel the shirt carefully off the wounds, but it was stuck tight to the dried blood.
“I’m going to have to pull this off,” he said finally. “It’s probably going to hurt.”
“I am no stranger to pain,” Gadreel replied.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Okay – on three. One…” Sam ripped the shirt off fast. Gadreel inhaled sharply and frowned at him.
“That was not three.”
“Trust me, it’s better that way.” Sam surveyed Gadreel’s chest. The sigil carved into his chest was oozing blood. It was partly healed, but the rest was a mess.
“Okay,” Sam said. He handed Gadreel a towel. “Put this down and lie back on it.”
“I can do this myself,” Gadreel said.
“I’ll do a better job,” Sam said absently, still staring at Gadreel’s muscular chest. “I actually know first aid.” He finally looked up, and found himself staring into Gadreel’s piercing green eyes.
Sam stood up abruptly and went to the sink. He filled a bowl with hot, soapy water. When he was done, he turned around and saw that Gadreel had lain down on the towel as instructed.
Silently, Sam washed the old blood off Gadreel’s chest with a soft cloth, taking in the planes of the angel’s body and wondering about its original owner. Was he sharing in the pain, or had Gadreel put him to sleep? Did he like being possessed? From Sam’s own experiences, it was hard to imagine how anyone could, but he knew that it happened…When the wound was clean, he followed it up with some rubbing alcohol. If the disinfectant stung Gadreel, he gave no indication.
Sam had Gadreel sit up and raise his arms. He wound clean gauze around Gadreel’s torso. When he was done, Sam finally asked the question that had been plaguing him.
“Why did you carve so deep? I wouldn’t think you would have had to, for the spell.”
Gadreel’s expression became sad again, and he looked away. “I do not know. I suppose I…I wanted to be sure it worked.” Silence fell, and Sam was about to say something when Gadreel spoke again. “No. That is not true. I wanted it to hurt. I thought, somehow, that my atonement would be more complete. If it hurt.” He looked back at Sam, a tiny smile on his face. “And I did not think that I would live, to have to heal it.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I kinda get that.” He tried to think of what else he should say, but nothing came to mind. “I’ll let you get some rest.” He turned towards the door.
“Sam.”
Sam turned back.
Gadreel hesitated. “Thank you,” he said at last. “You are a good man. I have always known that about you.”
Sam flinched; thinking of the long months when Gadreel had possessed him, and he hadn’t known. He tried to suppress it, but he could tell that Gadreel saw. He wondered if he should say something; assure Gadreel that he knew how Gadreel had changed, had tried to make amends.
“You’re welcome,” was all he could manage, and he left the room quickly.
***
The next morning, Sam brought a breakfast tray to Gadreel’s room. When he went in, he found Gadreel lying flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d put his hoodie back on, and zipped it up. Sam remembered that he was supposed to bring Gadreel another shirt.
Gadreel had also put the angel cuffs back on himself. Sam frowned, but decided not to lead with that.
“Hey,” he said instead. “How’d you sleep? Uh…do you sleep?”
“A little,” Gadreel said. “It’s very strange. But it seems to be necessary right now, when I am so weak.”
He started to sit up, grimacing with pain, which Sam thought had to be worse when he couldn’t brace himself properly, because of the cuffs. Sam hastily put the tray down on the dresser.
“Whoa, hey, stop,” he said. “Let me help.” He held out a hand. Gadreel met his eyes and slowly took Sam’s hand in both of his, allowing Sam to pull him into a seated position.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What’s with the cuffs, man?” Sam said.
“I feared Dean might come by. He already distrusts me. And I do not want to cause any trouble between the two of you.”
“Oh.” Sam smiled slightly. “Thanks. But let me take them off you for now, at least.”
Gadreel held up his wrists, and was silent as Sam found the key on the dresser where he’d left it the night before, and unlocked the cuffs.
“I brought you breakfast,” Sam said. “I know angels don’t normally eat, but I thought just in case…”
Gadreel looked at the toast, bacon, and eggs. “I will try,” he said. “If I require sleep while I heal, then perhaps some food will help, too.” Sam gave him the tray, and he began nibbling at a piece of bacon. Sam watched curiously.
“What does it taste like?” Sam asked. “Cas says now that he’s an angel again, food just tastes like its component molecules.”
Gadreel swallowed his food and considered this for a moment. “It does taste like molecules,” he agreed. “But, pleasant molecules.” He took a bigger bite, and gave Sam a small smile. Sam found himself smiling back.
“Good,” he said. “Good.”
***
Sam returned to Gadreel’s room about fifteen minutes later, to collect the tray. The plate was empty. Gadreel was lying on his back again.
“So, what are you going to do today?” Sam asked. “Do you want a book or something?”
“No,” Gadreel said. “I will lie here, and heal, and watch the dust motes dance in the air.” He stared up, appearing to be completely engrossed.
Sam chuckled. “Okay, how about you at least let me show you how to work the Netflix?”
“I know how,” Gadreel said. “I absorbed the knowledge from…” He fell silent and glanced at Sam, then immediately looked back at the ceiling.
“Right,” Sam said quietly. “I’ll leave you to your, um, dust motes, then.”
***
That evening, Sam went back to Gadreel’s room to help him change his bandages. Gadreel winced a few time during the process, but didn’t make a sound. When it was done, he put on the extra shirt Sam had brought him, moving slowly, and with evident pain.
“Sam,” he said.
“Yeah?” Sam was packing up the first aid kit.
“I am so sorry.”
The real regret in Gadreel’s voice put Sam on alert. Was he going to double-cross them after all? “For what?” he asked quickly.
“For taking you as my vessel.”
Sam could feel his shoulders tense up a little further. He didn’t want to think about that time any more.
“I took possession of you under false pretenses,” Gadreel continued. “To say nothing of what I did, during the time when you were my vessel.”
Sam picked up the first aid kit and rose from the bed, not looking at Gadreel. “It is what it is,” he said. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” He practically fled from the room.
***
“Uh oh, what’s up?” Dean asked, when Sam joined him in the library with beers for both of them. “That’s your sad-mad face.”
Sam flopped down in a chair across from him. “Stop telling me what my faces are.”
Dean smirked. “Come on, pouty. Spill the beans.”
Sam frowned. “Gadreel. He was trying to apologize, for what he did when he was possessing me.”
“Dude, if you’re still so pissed about it, why the fuck did you let him into the bunker?”
“I’m not pissed about it. Not really, not anymore. I just…don’t want to discuss it with him.”
“Holy shit.” Dean leaned forward and put his beer down. “You don’t want to have a big touchy-feely discussion about things? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t like to think about it, Dean. Everything he did, wearing my meatsuit…” He took a sip of beer.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know,” Dean said, after a moment. “What he did.”
“I know,” Sam said wearily. “He healed me, and I would’ve died if he hadn’t – “
“Not that,” Dean interrupted. “I mean – yeah, obviously, that. But that wasn’t all. He killed a bunch of demons one time. He helped us find Cas. And he brought him back to life when that Reaper killed him. Brought Charlie back, too.”
“Cas and Charlie?”
“Yeah. It knocked him back on his ass for awhile, cause he was still weak. That’s why he was in you for so long. You didn’t know about that?”
“No,” Sam said. “I remember some of what he did, but…not all of it.” He frowned as he took another swig of his beer.
“Geez, listen to me,” Dean muttered. “You’re the one who insisted on letting him crash here and I’m the one defending him.” He played with the neck of his beer bottle for a minute. “How’s he been, anyway?”
Sam shrugged. “Fine. Pretty quiet.”
“Anything seem off? Suspicious?”
Sam shook his head, then huffed a laugh. “Literally, I don’t think he’s done anything besides lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling.”
“Wow.” Dean shook his head. “Angels, man.” He heaved a weary sigh and got to his feet. “I guess I should say hi. Make nice. Remind him I’ll kill him if he tries anything.” Sam smiled.
Dean was almost out of the room before Sam remembered. “Uh, wait,” he called. Dean turned back around. “Listen, he’s not in the cuffs.”
Dean raised his eyebrows, and Sam shrugged.
“Look, he put them on voluntarily, so he wouldn’t piss you off. But then I brought him breakfast – “
“Yeah, I still think it’s weird that you brought breakfast to something that doesn’t eat.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, he did eat it. And I forgot to have him put them back on, and…Look, I don’t really think it’s necessary.”
“I thought you were the one who was all mad at him right now.”
“Just because I’m kind of mad doesn’t mean I don’t trust him,” Sam snapped, then blinked, a little surprised at how much he did feel like he trusted Gadreel.
Dean’s eyebrows were even higher now, but for once in his life, he didn’t comment. “Fine,” he said. “But if things goes sideways with him, that’s on you this time.”
“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “I know.” Dean nodded and left the library.
***
Sam’s confusing mess of hurt and anger had more or less dissipated by the next morning, and he decided to pretend like nothing had happened. To his relief, Gadreel didn’t bring it up, either.
They fell into a pattern, over the next few weeks; Sam brought Gadreel a meal each day, and changed his bandages in the evening, quickly learning to be careful around the spots on Gadreel’s healing chest which were the most painful. It was a strange feeling, knowing the angel’s body that way; any way. Thinking about it made Sam’s face feel hot and his heart beat faster. It occurred to him that, somehow, he’d never entirely lost his awe of angels.
Gadreel never left his room, and resisted all of Sam’s attempts to show him around the bunker. So Sam started bringing him books, from both the Men of Letters’ library and the local library, where Sam liked to stop in for pleasure reading materials. Even in his weakened state, Gadreel could devour a book in hours. They started talking about what Gadreel had been reading, each time they met. The chats were brief at first, but became longer over time.
They’d been discussing Angels in America. Sam had been afraid it was a little on the nose, but he’d so liked it when he read it in college, and luckily, Gadreel had found it very interesting. The conversation had come to a natural conclusion. This was when Sam would usually leave Gadreel’s room for the day, but this time, he didn’t move from his chair. Gadreel looked at him with a puzzled frown.
“What made you come here?” Sam asked suddenly. Gadreel’s eyes slid away from him, and he started to speak, but Sam went on. “And don’t give me the ‘nowhere else to go’ line. I’m sure you could’ve found somewhere else to go. Somewhere closer to where you landed, and where no one had ever tried to stab you.”
Gadreel licked his lips; Sam found himself following the motion with his eyes. “I wanted you to help me,” he said finally.
“You definitely could’ve found somebody who – ”
“No,” Gadreel said flatly. “I did not want somebody to help me. I wanted you, Sam Winchester, to help me.”
Sam frowned. “Why?”
“I would tell you, but…I do not want to upset you.” Off Sam’s confused look, he sighed. “It is related to…to the time when you were my vessel.”
“Oh.” Sam sat back and bit his lip for a second while he considered this. “It’s okay,” he said after a moment. “I’ll be okay.”
Gadreel regarded him for a beat, then nodded. “I felt an affinity with you,” he said. “We were both deceived and betrayed by Lucifer. We both endured years of torture and imprisonment, as a result.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about that similarity between them. “But I still don’t get – “
“I am not finished,” Gadreel said. His expression was earnest, and he stared into Sam’s eyes. “I was inside your mind, Sam. I know you. I know what you have been through. I know the mistakes you have made. And yet, still, you are a good man. Still, you fight for what you believe in. You inspire me. To do better, to be better.”
Sam blinked, but Gadreel was still talking.
“I thought that if you could forgive me – at least, enough to help me – then…then perhaps I was worth saving.” A shadow passed across Gadreel’s face, and he closed his eyes, lying back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before Sam could speak. “I am tired today, and my wound is painful. I should rest.”
“Of course,” Sam said, rising, his heart thumping strangely. “Feel better, okay? I’ll be back to change your bandages tonight.”
Gadreel said nothing. When Sam was almost out the door, he glanced back to see Gadreel wiping his eyes. Sam looked away quickly and headed down the hall.
***
In his own room, a couple minutes later, Sam flopped down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. His heart was still pounding, and Gadreel’s words were going around and around in his head.
I know you. Gadreel knew Sam better than anyone ever had – better than Lucifer, surely; Gadreel had worn him for far longer, and Lucifer had taken full control, had been mostly focused on his own goals. And when he hadn’t been…Lucifer had seen only the darkness in Sam. For so long, Sam had been afraid, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the darkness was all there was to him.
But Gadreel had been his secret co-pilot for months. He’d seen Sam in his everyday life, and he saw goodness. Gadreel’s expression as he spoke to him…Sam’s breath came in a gasp at the memory. It had been awe on the angel’s face. An angel had looked at him that way.
Sam remembered how he’d felt, when he learned angels were real. And the way his heart had broken at his reception from Uriel and Castiel, the first time they’d met. Cas cared about him now, of course, but he had never looked at Sam the way Gadreel had.
Sam felt suddenly angry that he’d never known Gadreel was inside him, when he’d been his vessel. Not because of the duplicity, but because he felt like he’d missed out. With Lucifer, that intimacy had been nothing but torment. With Gadreel…who knew what it could have been like?
Sam sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He forced himself to look at the realization that had dawned on him, which was now crystal clear and inescapable.
But what to do with it?
***
A couple weeks later, Sam unwrapped Gadreel’s bandages carefully, trying to keep his face neutral. Gadreel looked down at his chest.
“The healing is progressing well,” he said. “Perhaps I will not have to intrude on your hospitality much longer.”
Sam said nothing as he bandaged Gadreel up again, but his heart felt like it was in a vise.
Gadreel lay back on his elbows when Sam was done, not bothering to put his shirt back on. He winced slightly.
“There is still pain, though,” he said. “Perhaps awhile longer. I’m sorry.”
Sam was still sitting next to him on the bed. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said in a low voice, still avoiding Gadreel’s eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”
Gadreel went still. “No?” he said, tone carefully casual.
Sam finally looked at him, searching. Gadreel was trying to hide it, but Sam had gotten to know him pretty well, these past weeks. Perhaps it was easier because of the time Gadreel had spent in his head, but either way, he could see the hope and the fear in the angel’s eyes.
Sam knelt on the bed and leaned over Gadreel, bracing himself on his arms.
“I really don’t,” he said quietly. He bent down, moving slowly, just in case he’d been reading things wrong…but Gadreel was coming up to meet him, a hand on Sam’s neck, and they kissed softly. Sam realized he was shaking a little, with relief and restrained desire and a hundred other emotions he couldn’t name.
When they came apart, Gadreel looked happy, but bewildered. His hand dropped from Sam’s neck, like he was still afraid Sam would change his mind. “Why?” he asked.
Sam tried to smile. “Because you saw me,” he said. “You saw everything I am, and you still believed in me.”
“Of course I did,” Gadreel said, and the words, the matter-of-fact tone, made Sam’s heart throb. “But are you sure that this is what you want?”
Sam took Gadreel’s hand and pressed Gadreel’s fingers to his temple, managing a shaky smile this time. “Look and see for yourself.”
Category: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam, Gadreel, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 3,971
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Months after his supposed death, Gadreel shows up at the bunker, badly injured but very much alive. Sam takes care of him, and they discover an affinity.
Warnings: Reference to one past instance of self-injury
A/N: Written for the
spn_reversebang, with beautiful art by sastmk. The title is from the song “Straight To You” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, which has a Sam/Gadreel feel to me, especially in the last verse. Huge thanks to Nevanna for the invaluable beta read!Art Links: AO3 | tumblr
Read on AO3
***
When Castiel told Sam that Gadreel had died, Sam barely took the information in. Devastated by Dean’s death and in turmoil over his disappearance, Sam’s mind was reeling. He felt like he was being pressed to death, the weight on his chest unbearable, and he could barely breathe. So it wasn’t until much later, when he’d calmed down a little, that he thought over Cas’ words, his surprisingly sad tone.
“He died a hero,” Castiel had said. “He spoke of regret, and redemption, and of wanting to protect humanity.”
Despite everything, Sam felt a little stab of pain. He reminded himself that Gadreel had possessed him without his true consent; that he had killed Kevin, and others. Sam still had nightmares about it.
But he knew what it was to have regrets. He remembered the hurt he’d sensed, from his memories of his time as Gadreel’s vessel. And Gadreel had done his best to make good. He’d given his life for it.
Sam swallowed down a lump in his throat, and went back to searching for Dean. He didn’t think of Gadreel often after that, except for when he woke up sweating and shaking, seeing his hand on Kevin’s head, Kevin’s eyes turning to twin suns in his face.
And then, months later, after Dean was home and more or less himself again, Sam came home from a grocery run to find Gadreel huddled on the ground by the entrance to the bunker.
***
He was sitting on the hill, near the door, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. Sam recognized him immediately, and got out of the Impala slowly, gun raised, alarmed and suspicious. Gadreel didn’t move.
“Sam Winchester,” he said. He sounded exhausted, and he looked pale and drawn. “This is a warmer reception than I had anticipated.”
“Gadreel?” Sam demanded. “How – Cas said you were dead.”
“I was supposed to be. I very nearly was.”
“What happened to you?”
“I was thrown from Heaven by the blast. I tumbled into the Mediterranean Sea.”
“Why didn’t you die?”
“I do not know.” Gadreel tried to smile. “Perhaps God forgave me, at last.”
Sam took a step closer to him, pointing his gun at the ground, but not putting it away. “What’s wrong with you?”
“My healing has been very slow. My grace is mostly depleted.” Gadreel slowly unwrapped his arms from around his knees and straightened his legs, wincing with pain. Sam couldn’t suppress a hiss of sympathy when he saw the blood staining Gadreel’s white t-shirt.
Gadreel sighed. “Perhaps God has not forgiven me entirely.”
“Yeah, or maybe that kamikaze spell you did really messed you up,” Sam said. “Why are you here?”
Gadreel’s eyes looked so old. “I did not know where else to go…All I ask is a safe place to rest until my grace is restored, enough so that I can heal this wound. Then I will never bother you again.” His gaze was steady, and sad. “I know I do not deserve your help. But I am compelled to ask for it.”
Sam examined him for a long moment. Finally, he clicked the safety back on his gun, and tucked it into his waistband again. “Let me talk to Dean,” he said.
***
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” Dean shouted.
“Dean, listen,” Sam said. “I know what he did.”
“He killed Kevin! While wearing your meatsuit!”
“And whose fault is that?” Sam shouted, exasperated.
Dean, who had been about to go on, shut his mouth abruptly.
“I know better than anyone what he did,” Sam said. “But he tried to redeem himself, in the end. He was ready to die for humanity! He deserves another chance!” In the back of his mind, Sam wondered why he was defending Gadreel so passionately. He’d hated him, for awhile, for all he’d done. But Gadreel had looked so pathetic, sitting there on the ground, in pain, asking for help.
Dean grimaced. “Great, you’ve got your stubborn face on,” he grumbled. He grabbed a tumbler and the whiskey decanter and poured himself a drink, taking a quick swallow before he spoke again. “All right, fine. But I’m not playing nursemaid or whatever for him. This isn’t a house for wayward angels. And you better put the cuffs on him.”
***
Once Sam had led Gadreel past Dean, who was glowering suspiciously, and into one of the spare bedrooms in the barracks, he uncuffed him. Gadreel looked surprised.
“No shackles?” he said, uncertainly.
“You should probably wear them around Dean, for awhile,” Sam said. “But as far as I’m concerned, you’re trustworthy.”
Gadreel looked more surprised, but only nodded and didn’t comment.
“I guess your bandages need to be changed,” Sam said, looking again at the blood staining Gadreel’s t-shirt. “Want some help?”
“Bandages?”
Sam blinked. “You haven’t bandaged yourself up?”
“What need has an angel with bandages?”
Sam huffed a laugh. “Obviously some, in this case. I’ll get the first aid kit. You take off your shirt.”
He quickly retrieved the kit and returned to Gadreel’s room. Gadreel had shed his jacket, but not his shirt.
“It’s stuck,” he informed Sam.
Sam winced. “Okay. I’d better cut it off you.”
“This is my only shirt.”
“I’ll give you another. Sit down with your back to me.”
Gadreel sat down on the bed. Sam cut the shirt open in the back and through the sleeves, then had Gadreel turn around. He tried to peel the shirt carefully off the wounds, but it was stuck tight to the dried blood.
“I’m going to have to pull this off,” he said finally. “It’s probably going to hurt.”
“I am no stranger to pain,” Gadreel replied.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Okay – on three. One…” Sam ripped the shirt off fast. Gadreel inhaled sharply and frowned at him.
“That was not three.”
“Trust me, it’s better that way.” Sam surveyed Gadreel’s chest. The sigil carved into his chest was oozing blood. It was partly healed, but the rest was a mess.
“Okay,” Sam said. He handed Gadreel a towel. “Put this down and lie back on it.”
“I can do this myself,” Gadreel said.
“I’ll do a better job,” Sam said absently, still staring at Gadreel’s muscular chest. “I actually know first aid.” He finally looked up, and found himself staring into Gadreel’s piercing green eyes.
Sam stood up abruptly and went to the sink. He filled a bowl with hot, soapy water. When he was done, he turned around and saw that Gadreel had lain down on the towel as instructed.
Silently, Sam washed the old blood off Gadreel’s chest with a soft cloth, taking in the planes of the angel’s body and wondering about its original owner. Was he sharing in the pain, or had Gadreel put him to sleep? Did he like being possessed? From Sam’s own experiences, it was hard to imagine how anyone could, but he knew that it happened…When the wound was clean, he followed it up with some rubbing alcohol. If the disinfectant stung Gadreel, he gave no indication.
Sam had Gadreel sit up and raise his arms. He wound clean gauze around Gadreel’s torso. When he was done, Sam finally asked the question that had been plaguing him.
“Why did you carve so deep? I wouldn’t think you would have had to, for the spell.”
Gadreel’s expression became sad again, and he looked away. “I do not know. I suppose I…I wanted to be sure it worked.” Silence fell, and Sam was about to say something when Gadreel spoke again. “No. That is not true. I wanted it to hurt. I thought, somehow, that my atonement would be more complete. If it hurt.” He looked back at Sam, a tiny smile on his face. “And I did not think that I would live, to have to heal it.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I kinda get that.” He tried to think of what else he should say, but nothing came to mind. “I’ll let you get some rest.” He turned towards the door.
“Sam.”
Sam turned back.
Gadreel hesitated. “Thank you,” he said at last. “You are a good man. I have always known that about you.”
Sam flinched; thinking of the long months when Gadreel had possessed him, and he hadn’t known. He tried to suppress it, but he could tell that Gadreel saw. He wondered if he should say something; assure Gadreel that he knew how Gadreel had changed, had tried to make amends.
“You’re welcome,” was all he could manage, and he left the room quickly.
***
The next morning, Sam brought a breakfast tray to Gadreel’s room. When he went in, he found Gadreel lying flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d put his hoodie back on, and zipped it up. Sam remembered that he was supposed to bring Gadreel another shirt.
Gadreel had also put the angel cuffs back on himself. Sam frowned, but decided not to lead with that.
“Hey,” he said instead. “How’d you sleep? Uh…do you sleep?”
“A little,” Gadreel said. “It’s very strange. But it seems to be necessary right now, when I am so weak.”
He started to sit up, grimacing with pain, which Sam thought had to be worse when he couldn’t brace himself properly, because of the cuffs. Sam hastily put the tray down on the dresser.
“Whoa, hey, stop,” he said. “Let me help.” He held out a hand. Gadreel met his eyes and slowly took Sam’s hand in both of his, allowing Sam to pull him into a seated position.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What’s with the cuffs, man?” Sam said.
“I feared Dean might come by. He already distrusts me. And I do not want to cause any trouble between the two of you.”
“Oh.” Sam smiled slightly. “Thanks. But let me take them off you for now, at least.”
Gadreel held up his wrists, and was silent as Sam found the key on the dresser where he’d left it the night before, and unlocked the cuffs.
“I brought you breakfast,” Sam said. “I know angels don’t normally eat, but I thought just in case…”
Gadreel looked at the toast, bacon, and eggs. “I will try,” he said. “If I require sleep while I heal, then perhaps some food will help, too.” Sam gave him the tray, and he began nibbling at a piece of bacon. Sam watched curiously.
“What does it taste like?” Sam asked. “Cas says now that he’s an angel again, food just tastes like its component molecules.”
Gadreel swallowed his food and considered this for a moment. “It does taste like molecules,” he agreed. “But, pleasant molecules.” He took a bigger bite, and gave Sam a small smile. Sam found himself smiling back.
“Good,” he said. “Good.”
***
Sam returned to Gadreel’s room about fifteen minutes later, to collect the tray. The plate was empty. Gadreel was lying on his back again.
“So, what are you going to do today?” Sam asked. “Do you want a book or something?”
“No,” Gadreel said. “I will lie here, and heal, and watch the dust motes dance in the air.” He stared up, appearing to be completely engrossed.
Sam chuckled. “Okay, how about you at least let me show you how to work the Netflix?”
“I know how,” Gadreel said. “I absorbed the knowledge from…” He fell silent and glanced at Sam, then immediately looked back at the ceiling.
“Right,” Sam said quietly. “I’ll leave you to your, um, dust motes, then.”
***
That evening, Sam went back to Gadreel’s room to help him change his bandages. Gadreel winced a few time during the process, but didn’t make a sound. When it was done, he put on the extra shirt Sam had brought him, moving slowly, and with evident pain.
“Sam,” he said.
“Yeah?” Sam was packing up the first aid kit.
“I am so sorry.”
The real regret in Gadreel’s voice put Sam on alert. Was he going to double-cross them after all? “For what?” he asked quickly.
“For taking you as my vessel.”
Sam could feel his shoulders tense up a little further. He didn’t want to think about that time any more.
“I took possession of you under false pretenses,” Gadreel continued. “To say nothing of what I did, during the time when you were my vessel.”
Sam picked up the first aid kit and rose from the bed, not looking at Gadreel. “It is what it is,” he said. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” He practically fled from the room.
***
“Uh oh, what’s up?” Dean asked, when Sam joined him in the library with beers for both of them. “That’s your sad-mad face.”
Sam flopped down in a chair across from him. “Stop telling me what my faces are.”
Dean smirked. “Come on, pouty. Spill the beans.”
Sam frowned. “Gadreel. He was trying to apologize, for what he did when he was possessing me.”
“Dude, if you’re still so pissed about it, why the fuck did you let him into the bunker?”
“I’m not pissed about it. Not really, not anymore. I just…don’t want to discuss it with him.”
“Holy shit.” Dean leaned forward and put his beer down. “You don’t want to have a big touchy-feely discussion about things? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t like to think about it, Dean. Everything he did, wearing my meatsuit…” He took a sip of beer.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know,” Dean said, after a moment. “What he did.”
“I know,” Sam said wearily. “He healed me, and I would’ve died if he hadn’t – “
“Not that,” Dean interrupted. “I mean – yeah, obviously, that. But that wasn’t all. He killed a bunch of demons one time. He helped us find Cas. And he brought him back to life when that Reaper killed him. Brought Charlie back, too.”
“Cas and Charlie?”
“Yeah. It knocked him back on his ass for awhile, cause he was still weak. That’s why he was in you for so long. You didn’t know about that?”
“No,” Sam said. “I remember some of what he did, but…not all of it.” He frowned as he took another swig of his beer.
“Geez, listen to me,” Dean muttered. “You’re the one who insisted on letting him crash here and I’m the one defending him.” He played with the neck of his beer bottle for a minute. “How’s he been, anyway?”
Sam shrugged. “Fine. Pretty quiet.”
“Anything seem off? Suspicious?”
Sam shook his head, then huffed a laugh. “Literally, I don’t think he’s done anything besides lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling.”
“Wow.” Dean shook his head. “Angels, man.” He heaved a weary sigh and got to his feet. “I guess I should say hi. Make nice. Remind him I’ll kill him if he tries anything.” Sam smiled.
Dean was almost out of the room before Sam remembered. “Uh, wait,” he called. Dean turned back around. “Listen, he’s not in the cuffs.”
Dean raised his eyebrows, and Sam shrugged.
“Look, he put them on voluntarily, so he wouldn’t piss you off. But then I brought him breakfast – “
“Yeah, I still think it’s weird that you brought breakfast to something that doesn’t eat.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, he did eat it. And I forgot to have him put them back on, and…Look, I don’t really think it’s necessary.”
“I thought you were the one who was all mad at him right now.”
“Just because I’m kind of mad doesn’t mean I don’t trust him,” Sam snapped, then blinked, a little surprised at how much he did feel like he trusted Gadreel.
Dean’s eyebrows were even higher now, but for once in his life, he didn’t comment. “Fine,” he said. “But if things goes sideways with him, that’s on you this time.”
“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “I know.” Dean nodded and left the library.
***
Sam’s confusing mess of hurt and anger had more or less dissipated by the next morning, and he decided to pretend like nothing had happened. To his relief, Gadreel didn’t bring it up, either.
They fell into a pattern, over the next few weeks; Sam brought Gadreel a meal each day, and changed his bandages in the evening, quickly learning to be careful around the spots on Gadreel’s healing chest which were the most painful. It was a strange feeling, knowing the angel’s body that way; any way. Thinking about it made Sam’s face feel hot and his heart beat faster. It occurred to him that, somehow, he’d never entirely lost his awe of angels.
Gadreel never left his room, and resisted all of Sam’s attempts to show him around the bunker. So Sam started bringing him books, from both the Men of Letters’ library and the local library, where Sam liked to stop in for pleasure reading materials. Even in his weakened state, Gadreel could devour a book in hours. They started talking about what Gadreel had been reading, each time they met. The chats were brief at first, but became longer over time.
They’d been discussing Angels in America. Sam had been afraid it was a little on the nose, but he’d so liked it when he read it in college, and luckily, Gadreel had found it very interesting. The conversation had come to a natural conclusion. This was when Sam would usually leave Gadreel’s room for the day, but this time, he didn’t move from his chair. Gadreel looked at him with a puzzled frown.
“What made you come here?” Sam asked suddenly. Gadreel’s eyes slid away from him, and he started to speak, but Sam went on. “And don’t give me the ‘nowhere else to go’ line. I’m sure you could’ve found somewhere else to go. Somewhere closer to where you landed, and where no one had ever tried to stab you.”
Gadreel licked his lips; Sam found himself following the motion with his eyes. “I wanted you to help me,” he said finally.
“You definitely could’ve found somebody who – ”
“No,” Gadreel said flatly. “I did not want somebody to help me. I wanted you, Sam Winchester, to help me.”
Sam frowned. “Why?”
“I would tell you, but…I do not want to upset you.” Off Sam’s confused look, he sighed. “It is related to…to the time when you were my vessel.”
“Oh.” Sam sat back and bit his lip for a second while he considered this. “It’s okay,” he said after a moment. “I’ll be okay.”
Gadreel regarded him for a beat, then nodded. “I felt an affinity with you,” he said. “We were both deceived and betrayed by Lucifer. We both endured years of torture and imprisonment, as a result.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about that similarity between them. “But I still don’t get – “
“I am not finished,” Gadreel said. His expression was earnest, and he stared into Sam’s eyes. “I was inside your mind, Sam. I know you. I know what you have been through. I know the mistakes you have made. And yet, still, you are a good man. Still, you fight for what you believe in. You inspire me. To do better, to be better.”
Sam blinked, but Gadreel was still talking.
“I thought that if you could forgive me – at least, enough to help me – then…then perhaps I was worth saving.” A shadow passed across Gadreel’s face, and he closed his eyes, lying back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before Sam could speak. “I am tired today, and my wound is painful. I should rest.”
“Of course,” Sam said, rising, his heart thumping strangely. “Feel better, okay? I’ll be back to change your bandages tonight.”
Gadreel said nothing. When Sam was almost out the door, he glanced back to see Gadreel wiping his eyes. Sam looked away quickly and headed down the hall.
***
In his own room, a couple minutes later, Sam flopped down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. His heart was still pounding, and Gadreel’s words were going around and around in his head.
I know you. Gadreel knew Sam better than anyone ever had – better than Lucifer, surely; Gadreel had worn him for far longer, and Lucifer had taken full control, had been mostly focused on his own goals. And when he hadn’t been…Lucifer had seen only the darkness in Sam. For so long, Sam had been afraid, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the darkness was all there was to him.
But Gadreel had been his secret co-pilot for months. He’d seen Sam in his everyday life, and he saw goodness. Gadreel’s expression as he spoke to him…Sam’s breath came in a gasp at the memory. It had been awe on the angel’s face. An angel had looked at him that way.
Sam remembered how he’d felt, when he learned angels were real. And the way his heart had broken at his reception from Uriel and Castiel, the first time they’d met. Cas cared about him now, of course, but he had never looked at Sam the way Gadreel had.
Sam felt suddenly angry that he’d never known Gadreel was inside him, when he’d been his vessel. Not because of the duplicity, but because he felt like he’d missed out. With Lucifer, that intimacy had been nothing but torment. With Gadreel…who knew what it could have been like?
Sam sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He forced himself to look at the realization that had dawned on him, which was now crystal clear and inescapable.
But what to do with it?
***
A couple weeks later, Sam unwrapped Gadreel’s bandages carefully, trying to keep his face neutral. Gadreel looked down at his chest.
“The healing is progressing well,” he said. “Perhaps I will not have to intrude on your hospitality much longer.”
Sam said nothing as he bandaged Gadreel up again, but his heart felt like it was in a vise.
Gadreel lay back on his elbows when Sam was done, not bothering to put his shirt back on. He winced slightly.
“There is still pain, though,” he said. “Perhaps awhile longer. I’m sorry.”
Sam was still sitting next to him on the bed. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said in a low voice, still avoiding Gadreel’s eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”
Gadreel went still. “No?” he said, tone carefully casual.
Sam finally looked at him, searching. Gadreel was trying to hide it, but Sam had gotten to know him pretty well, these past weeks. Perhaps it was easier because of the time Gadreel had spent in his head, but either way, he could see the hope and the fear in the angel’s eyes.
Sam knelt on the bed and leaned over Gadreel, bracing himself on his arms.
“I really don’t,” he said quietly. He bent down, moving slowly, just in case he’d been reading things wrong…but Gadreel was coming up to meet him, a hand on Sam’s neck, and they kissed softly. Sam realized he was shaking a little, with relief and restrained desire and a hundred other emotions he couldn’t name.
When they came apart, Gadreel looked happy, but bewildered. His hand dropped from Sam’s neck, like he was still afraid Sam would change his mind. “Why?” he asked.
Sam tried to smile. “Because you saw me,” he said. “You saw everything I am, and you still believed in me.”
“Of course I did,” Gadreel said, and the words, the matter-of-fact tone, made Sam’s heart throb. “But are you sure that this is what you want?”
Sam took Gadreel’s hand and pressed Gadreel’s fingers to his temple, managing a shaky smile this time. “Look and see for yourself.”
