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He’d come to the summoning prepared to find the usual hippies, maybe an actual pagan who knew what she was doing this time. He’d come expecting a “sacrifice,” preferably of the young and nubile type, but hey, he’d had a lot of fun with worshippers before and would again.
So he was grinning, already envisioning the fun he was about to have. If they’d done a good job, and made an appropriate offering, he might even grant their request. Maybe.
They’d definitely done their research: altar, the sweet grasses and mint, small dried disks of peyote, even banana leaves were scattered carefully around the altar, and the symbols were ones of various Tricksters around the world. There were half a dozen worshippers, three men and three women. Yeah, this was definitely looking like one of the more memorable rituals he’d been called to.
Then his gaze landed on the altar, and humor fled.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, a thread of Grace long forgotten filling his voice for a moment as he stared at the terrified, struggling scrap of a boy tied down atop the altar. The kid was naked too, which only served to highlight the bruises and how scrawny he was. Blood streaked the ropes, inched down his arms and ankles to splatter in minute amounts on the altar, adding to the power. They’d gotten creative with knives on him, carving sigils into fragile skin that mimicked the ones they’d drawn on themselves with grease pencils.
The being now known as the Trickster didn’t much care about the wide-eyed alarm growing on his would-be worshippers’ faces. His idea of acceptable sacrifices included virgins, comely youths, and/or a wide variety of sweets. Not children.
The pagans traded looks before a beautiful woman stepped forward. “He’s…he’s your offering, lord. A young virgin to despoil, and then the offering sealed with his life’s blood.”
The kid whimpered a little, eyes glassy with tears he didn’t shed, but he didn’t stop fighting. Gabriel’s admiration for him grew, because most kids would’ve been in screaming hysterics by now. He walked forward, plants crunching under his feet, and the boy stilled, wide and wary eyes fixed on him.
Smart kid.
“Hey there,” he said, and his voice was soft and gentle now, his power turned from wrath to compassion. This wasn’t the kid’s fault, and Gabriel was still enough the Archangel of Judgment to shield his newfound innocent. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
The boy bit his lip, his voice young but sure. “Sam. Sam Winchester.” He hesitated before he darted a look from thick, wet lashes. “M’ brother calls me Sammy.”
Gabriel didn’t let the surprise fill his eyes, but seriously? Lucifer’s destined Vessel, bound to an altar and given to him as a sacrifice? This whole mess had just gotten a great deal more interesting, because he liked humans. They were messy, noisy, disrespectful and fun. He didn’t really want to see them wiped out and Paradise, perfectly boring Paradise, replacing the world. And he’d just been handed a chance to derail the entire Apocalypse Heaven and Hell were patiently brewing. By the laws of magic, the sacrifice belonged to the god it was intended for, and he happened to be the Trickster who’d answered the call.
Which meant Samuel Winchester was now his.
Gabriel smiled, a warm, slow curve of his lips that made Sammy relax, and the pagans sway forward with eyes blown with lust. “Well, then, Sammy, I’m Loki. It’s nice to meet you.” A snap of his fingers made the ropes vanish and his eyes narrowed at the bloody furrows left behind.
The pagans weren’t entirely stupid; they’d drawn a wide protective circle around the altar, one that might’ve even held Gabriel if he was truly the Trickster he claimed to be. Let them think themselves safe for the moment; it’d make it all the sweeter when they felt his Wrath for harming what was his.
“Up you go,” he said calmly to the child as he hefted the small body upright, his Grace weaving carefully into the young soul as he ran a hand over the sigils carved into the kid’s torso, then traced the Enochian of his name over the unmarred skin left behind. There, his claim was staked and confirmed for anyone with the eyes to see. There was blood caked into shaggy hair, and he cupped the small skull in the palm of his hand, healing the concussion they’d left behind. Hitting a little boy over the head? Cowards too, then. He didn’t like cowards who thought children were appropriate sacrifices. “Think you can stand, kid?”
The kid’s mouth formed into a stubborn line that was going to cause his father a great deal of aggravation in the near future, probably already did. Gabriel grinned outright at the sight—Sam was going to be one hell of a handful when he got old enough to be claimed. He’d enjoy every minute of it, and he knew it.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He kept his hands steady on the boy’s shoulders as the kid hopped down, helping him find and keep his balance as he swayed precariously. All right, his mortal was safe; time to deal with the morons. A second snap clothed Sam—he wasn’t a pedophile, thank you very much anyway—and he met curious hazel eyes. “All right, Sammy, I need you to do something for me.”
The boy looked wary. “What?”
Very smart kid. Suddenly Gabriel got the feeling the scheduled Apocalypse might’ve been derailed even without him butting in, because Sam Winchester didn’t strike him as anyone’s bitch, not even his self-righteous brothers’. Didn’t matter now, though; he’d staked his claim and he didn’t give up what was his, ever.
“Don’t look until I let you.”
The boy bit his lip in thought. “Are you going to hurt them?”
Gabriel held onto the easy smile. “We’re just going to have a little talk about appropriate sacrifices, munchkin.”
Sam might be a hunter in the making, but he was also a scared, tired ten-year-old who’d been kidnapped, drugged, carved up, and tied naked to an altar. Human or not, he wasn’t overly inclined to worry about protecting the mortals from the wrath of the god they’d summoned. He nodded and Gabriel pulled him forward, burying his face in the archangel’s shirt and covering Sam’s ears securely before he lifted hot eyes to the bewildered and rather unhappy pagans.
The resulting “discussion” was pithy, intense, and regrettably short as the mortals writhed and screamed, eyes melting from the sight of his Grace, deafened and struck dumb by the sound of his Voice lashing them. Death was a kindness Gabriel wasn’t inclined to grant them, so he sent them off for the mortal doctors to do what they could, cleaned up the clearing with a glance, and then let Sammy go.
“Okay, Sammy, let’s get you home,” he said cheerfully. “I bet Dean’s worried sick about you.”
Sam’s grimace suggested he agreed, and Gabriel bit back a smile as small fingers threaded trustingly into his offered hand. Oh, yeah. He was so keeping this one.
****
Gabriel didn’t claim mortals easily or lightly, and he didn’t neglect what was his. That turned out to be a good thing, because as Gabriel quickly discovered, Sammy had an unparalleled knack for getting into trouble at the drop of a hat. The mortals Gabriel tended to leave alone—being bullied wouldn’t hurt Sam as long as it didn’t go beyond the typical playground shoves, and besides, Dean was a tiger just waiting to pounce on any schoolyard bully stupid enough to target his baby brother. Gabriel wasn’t going to steal the older boy’s thunder. And as for the more dangerous human predators, well, pedophiles tended to die in hilariously messy ways right before the Winchesters rolled into town.
But the supernatural threats, those were another story entirely. The sensible ones took one look at the boy and realized messing with an angel’s marked property was suicide, even if the kid was a yummy morsel of budding power and promise. The stupid ones, well, they soon discovered Sam Winchester had a possessive archangel watching over him, and aforementioned archangel did not take kindly to plans involving his mortal pet.
He’d intended to watch over the kid in a properly Guardian Angel sense, all distant power and brooding wrath to strike down offenders quickly, but that was too much like the angel he’d once been. He’d liked Sam, dammit, liked the unyielding spirit and the humor that had sparked through on their tromp back through the woods to find Dean on the day they’d met. Guarding from a distance simply wasn’t as much fun as interacting with the kid, and besides, why shouldn’t he interact? The boy was his now, signed and sealed. If Gabriel wanted to make sure the monster of the week hadn’t fucked up the kid’s psyche, that was his prerogative. After all, today’s tears and bruises could lead to utter hatred of all humans down the road, and if Sammy said yes to the Morningstar, well, Gabriel wasn’t sure enough of Lucifer respecting his prior claim on the kid to risk it. So it was only natural that he started walking Sammy’s dreams, soothing away the nightmares, reassuring the boy that the monsters weren’t going to eat him while Gabe was there. And if he told Sammy stories about a long ago past when he was something different, something grander than the pagan god he now played, who was to naysay him? Sam knew demons were real, so it was only fair he knew Heaven’s warriors existed too.
As Sam grew up, the tales turned more to the pranks Gabriel had played on the wicked, a more amusing twist to the role that had always been his as the Angel of Judgment and one he was damn good at if he did say so himself. And as he watched Sam turn from child into coltish teenager, as he watched Sam begin to test his wings against John Winchester’s strict hand and Dean’s unquestioning obedience, he saw more and more of himself in his chosen mortal.
It was perhaps inevitable that, somewhere along the way, he fell in love with the boy he’d watched, guarded, and guided for seven years. It wasn’t the abrupt smack in the face of One True Love so often portrayed in mortal movies and books, just a slow, sweet slide so gradual he didn’t even notice.
He loved Sam Winchester, and perhaps he always had. But it was still a surprise when Sammy turned to him one night when John and Dean were gone on a hunt and impulsively kissed him. It was inexperienced, an awkward press of lips before Sam drew back, flushed and ready to bolt, already stuttering apologies. Gabriel blinked, tongue darting out to taste chocolate and innocence, two of his favorite flavors. He’d promised himself long ago that he wouldn’t make the first move, and he hadn’t. Which left him free to strike, wrapping one hand around Sam’s nape and pulling him into a fierce kiss that left no doubt of Gabriel’s experience, or his hunger.
Sammy was seventeen, and he was ready, horny, and Gabriel’s. It would’ve been easy to claim him, but Gabriel was in love and he wasn’t going to rush this, wasn’t going to risk losing Sammy. He had eternity and Sam was going to be his for it; hurrying was not on his agenda.
So they took it slow. Necessity demanded keeping it quiet lest Dean or John find out, and Gabriel took full advantage. He started with slow, lazy kisses, stolen between classes. That graduated into makeout sessions in broom closets. The lazy spring afternoons proved irresistible for hand jobs and cuddling afterwards in grassy clearings far from mortal eyes.
Gabriel was taking it slow and steady, and enjoying every second of his seduction. Sam, on the other hand, was pushing for more like any teenage boy and getting more frustrated by the day. So really, it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise when he decided to take matters into his own hands.
It was a balmy evening in Georgia and the Trickster had just wrapped up a simple and sweetly vicious prank involving a pedophile priest who’d lost the ability to lie and gained a compulsion to blurt out every thought crossing his mind when he felt the summons. He paused, head cocking as he traced the magic back to the woods, dangerously close to where he’d left Sammy. Cursing under his breath in tongues that hadn’t been spoken in over a thousand years, he followed the call only to materialize in a small clearing almost exactly the same as the one he’d popped into eight years ago—with one very crucial difference. Sammy was sprawled naked atop a blanket forming a makeshift altar, and he wasn’t ten years old anymore.
Gabriel relaxed a little, lips quirking up into a grin as he took in the sight. Sammy fisted his cock lazily, eyes hungry as he watched Gabriel intently.
“Subtle you are not,” he informed his chosen, grin widening as Sammy huffed indignantly.
“If I left it up to you, I’d die a virgin. I’m eighteen, I’m of legal age, and I want you to fuck me, dammit!”
Gabriel threw back his head on a burst of laughter, then sobered as he looked down at the mortal glowering at him. He’d been patient, he’d bided his time, but if Sammy wanted to push things on, Gabriel certainly wasn’t going to bitch about it. His eyes heated as Sam splayed his legs in open invitation.
“My very own virgin sacrifice,” he purred, and Sam’s hand paused, flushing at the husky, hungry note in Gabriel’s voice.
“All yours,” he agreed throatily, and Gabriel swept him with an openly possessive look as he halted at the edge of the blanket. A snap of his fingers and his clothes vanished. He stilled for a long moment to let Sammy look his fill, and then he pounced. They sprawled on the blanket in a tangle of limbs and hot skin, Sam laughing breathlessly as Gabriel pinned him.
Yards of sun-bronzed skin stretched over firm muscles and that long, lean frame, and all of it his. His. Wriggling
and laughing and impatient, his beautiful boy. His glorious mate.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” Sam demanded.
Gabriel smirked down at his protesting mortal. “Yep,” he said cheerfully, briefly considering the merits of recreating the scene when he’d first met Sam more thoroughly. Sammy would look damn good spread open and helpless for his pleasure, but he stored the idea away with little more than a thread of regret. It was Sammy’s first time; bondage could wait until the second round, at least. “I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to be a good boy and let me do it my way.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Which means?”
He couldn’t resist dropping his head for a long, slow kiss. “Your first time, Sammy. We take it at my pace.”
Sam gave a dramatic sigh and flopped back onto the blanket, his body shivering slightly under Gabriel. “Fine,” he grouched.
Gabriel lifted his head and glanced around. He appreciated the thought—and he was definitely going to recreate this one later—but he wasn’t going to take Sammy for the first time on a threadbare hotel blanket where anyone could come wandering through. His mate deserved better for their bonding, and Gabriel knew just where to take him. A snap of his fingers brought a startled yelp as the clearing melted away and a bed caught them. A very large bed, covered in scarlet silk and satin, and in an obnoxious heart shape complete with mirrors at the top, because there was no way Gabriel was missing a second of a really fantastic view.
“Loki,” Sam blurted in dawning horror. “Is this a honeymoon suite?”
“Yep.” Gabriel was rather pleased with himself and it showed. Sam’s face softened.
“You are so weird,” he commented, and Gabriel laughed down at his chosen. He lowered his head, claiming his mortal’s mouth in another kiss, this one long and slow and deep. Sam squirmed under him, half-hard cock springing back into full life and Gabriel pulled back to let him suck greedy gulps of air, lips curving into a smirk against his mouth. This had potential.
He wrapped his hand around the proud jut of Sam’s cock, slicking him up, squeezing briefly because he knew how fast Sammy could climax when he was permitted. Sam grunted under him, face flushing and eyes dilated. Gabriel shifted, angling until his own eyes half-shut as he got the angle right and his aching cock rubbed along Sam. It was quick and messy, both of them slick with lube and Sam’s big hand wrapped around them, jerking frantically until he came with a whine, his seed hot and sticky across Gabriel’s belly. Gabriel himself was still hard—angelic stamina outlasted a teenager any day of the week—but he gave Sam a minute to recover, smirk turning fond as Sam gasped under him, cock spurting weakly.
“Dude,” he grumbled, still slack with pleasure but working his way into a bitchface. “That wasn’t in me.”
“We’re just getting started,” Gabriel promised, licking the long line of Sam’s neck and considering where to leave his mark first. Ah, the possibilities. Luckily, he didn’t need to make a decision just yet, and he sat back on his heels, ignoring the groaned complaint beneath him. “Roll over, Sammy.”
His voice held the gentle, implacable edge that Sam had learned to obey without question, and he noted the half-hearted jerk of Sam’s cock and the sudden lust pouring off the boy again with satisfaction even as Sam shoved himself up and over, letting gravity drag him down the rest of the way until he was sprawled on his stomach, long limbs splayed across the satin comforter. Gabriel’s mouth watered as he took in the feast before him.
“You’re mine,” he crooned, kneading the firm mounds of the truly lovely ass before him. “That means you do what I want, understand?”
Sam shivered and nodded. “Yours,” he agreed breathlessly, and Gabriel didn’t need the mirrors to know his smile was feral and triumphant.
He knew what he wanted, and he never had been one for resisting. He leaned forward and ran his tongue along the crack of Sam’s ass and a thread of Grace inside to clean him out, ignoring the startled jerk from the kid; rimming wasn’t one of the things he’d played with, knowing that once he started he wouldn’t stop until he was pounding into Sam.
“Loki!”
He’d have to teach Sammy his real name at some point so he could hear it shouted back at him, but for now the name he’d chosen would do. The way Sam had jerked away and was now half-raised, wide and shocked hazel eyes staring back at him, would not do. He smacked Sam’s butt once and filed away the shiver and the answering burst of confused hunger for later exploration.
“You do what I want,” he reminded quietly, and after a second Sam slowly lowered himself back to the bed, quivering and nervous, just the way Gabriel wanted him. He rubbed away the sting in unspoken approval and reassurance both, and licked again, this time pushing his way between Sam’s cheeks. Sam shook again, but he didn’t object—good boy. He deserved a reward, Gabriel decided, and pulled Sam’s cheeks apart, blowing across the tight ring of muscle in warning before he dove in.
“Oh, God,” Sam whimpered. Gabriel laughed softly—hardly—and inhaled, savoring the smell of innocence and power and Sam. A heady mix indeed, and he couldn’t hold off any longer, didn’t want to bother trying. Instead he nosed his way between Sam’s cheeks and licked the ring of muscle, fluting his tongue across it to coax it into relaxing before he plunged in. He was prepared for the convulsive jerk Sam made, his hands clamped onto his mortal’s hips ensuring that Sam didn’t budge an inch, but he did pull back, reaching for their bond to see why, exactly, Sam was so resistant to this. Ah—mortal hang-ups and a confused impression of dirtiness, but he was enjoying it and that was enough.
“Relax,” he whispered, threading his Grace into his voice just enough to soothe, and Sam subsided back onto the bed. Good. He dove back in, burying his tongue deep and sucking, enjoying the dark, musky taste. He was fucking perfect, this boy. He slid his tongue deeper, groaning at how tight Sam was, already envisioning that scorching heat gripping his cock and how damn good it’d feel. He pulled back to lick and nibble at the wrinkled skin, cock throbbing against his belly and knowing even his control wasn’t going to take much more of this as Sam shook beneath him. He couldn’t wait much longer, so he reluctantly abandoned his delicious torment to seal his mouth over Sam’s entrance and sucked hard, relenting only to bury his tongue deep, working Sam open and mimicking the thrusts his cock would soon make. It was enough—Sam went rigid under him, his hole convulsing around Gabriel’s tongue as he wailed. Gabriel kept working him until the last of the convulsions ended before he sat back, taking an unnecessary breath as he surveyed his lover. Sam was limp now, flushed and beautiful, and as ready as he was going to get.
A snap and Sam twitched, lube now filling him; another snap coated Gabriel’s cock because he was going to burst if anyone touched him before he got inside. Gabriel moved between his spread thighs, snugging his cock against the wet hole.
“Ready, Sammy?” he murmured, and Sam nodded, eyes glazed. Perfect. “Lie still, relax, let me do the work. Push out as I push in.” Sam nodded again, awareness stirring to life through the pleasure, and Gabriel nudged forward slowly. Fuck, Sammy was tight and wet and hot, so goddamn hot. He crept forward, teeth clenching as Sam’s body gripped him, pressure encasing him bit by bit as he split Sam open. The kid whimpered softly—it hurt, Gabriel could feel echoes of pain mingled with pleasure down the bond forming between them, but he couldn’t stop now. Even he had his limits and he’d hit them prepping Sammy. He worked his way in, slow and steady, inching back and pushing in just a little deeper, rocking forward and back until finally he was in to the hilt, hips resting flush against Sam’s ass.
He gave them both a minute to adjust, until the worst of the pain was gone from the small, fragile bond growing by the second, until his own control was secured again. Then he pulled back, pushed inexorably back in, gentle and steady and relentless until Sam was moving to meet him , soft mewling noises slipping from his throat.
Father above and below, he was beautiful. Gabriel set his teeth in the side of the kid’s throat and bit until he tasted blood, thrusting faster and harder because he had to come, had to fill Sam with his seed and seal the bond, and he wanted Sammy to come first, wanted to feel that glorious body clamping down on his cock every bit as hard as his tongue.
He had to come now.
He slid one hand under Sam’s raised hips, closing his fingers around the hard, silky flesh awaiting his touch, and let his Grace tingle through his fingers, through his mouth and into the ravaged skin under his teeth as he thrust hard and deep, bottoming out again in one fast stroke.
It was enough. Sam screamed under him, body spasming and clenching along the length of Gabriel’s cock and he shoved in as deep as he could go, seed spilling into Sam’s welcoming body, hands searing into his hips, marking him, as his Grace wove through the young, fragile soul, sealing claims he’d set ten years earlier.
“Mine,” he whispered in his native tongue, feeling his wings burst free to sweep the room, furling in to brush gently along his newly claimed mate as he collapsed forward onto Sam, still buried deep inside. He licked the mark bitten deep into Sam’s neck
His.
*****
Once he’d claimed Sammy, there was no reason to hold off, and Gabriel didn’t hesitate to share Sam’s bed every chance he got and then some. It was easy enough, really; John and Dean were often gone on hunts now that Sammy was of age and close to graduating high school at that. He was pretty sure Dean knew someone was in Sam’s bed while he was gone, but Sam didn’t seem concerned by it, so Gabriel left well enough alone. There’d been one close call when John had turned up unexpectedly, but they’d only been kissing, and Gabriel didn’t think the hunter had gotten a good look at him before he’d slipped out the other end of the alley and snapped himself away—which was a good thing, considering he’d played John once before and had a blast doing it.
It couldn’t last forever and he knew it, but for now, this was pretty damn idyllic. He spent his days pranking self-righteous assholes on the other side of the country and his nights buried deep inside his mate.
And for the first time since he’d walked away from his home and his family, Gabriel was happy.
***
“I told Dean.”
Gabriel’s hand paused, but there wasn’t any tension in Sammy’s frame as it sprawled over him, nor anything but sleepy contentment in his voice. Besides, Dean was the reasonable one of the older Winchesters, and the one Gabriel had unofficially extended his protection to. Michael was being a self-righteous jackass the last he’d checked, and he liked Dean Winchester too much to see him burned out in his eldest brother’s Grace for a war that he’d already prevented. “What’d he say?”
Sam’s lips curved against Gabriel’s neck. “Said to tell you that if you hurt me, he’ll ram a stake through your heart so fast you won’t know what hits you, and you can only play in the prank wars if you give equal advice. And the Impala’s off limits.”
Gabriel grinned. “Fair enough, and duly noted.”
“Also, he’ll cover for us with Dad if we need it.”
He’d have to thank Dean for that. And for choosing Sammy over John, because Dean had just planted his flag firmly on Sam’s side if John made as big a deal about this as Gabriel suspected he might. John Winchester was a good man with a righteous streak mile-wide; he’d be a good fit for Michael, far better than his eldest son. And he wasn’t going to like Sam with a supernatural entity.
Gabriel suspected the coming rift between father and son was as inevitable as his own split from his family had been, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see Sammy hurt like that. Nor did it mean he’d let anyone come between him and his lover.
He was in San Juan working on a particularly obnoxious drug lord when a spike of fear-laden anger brought him to Sam’s side in a rush of silent feathers. He was still cloaked from mortal eyes as he materialized inside the latest wretched motel room the Winchesters were calling home, and one swift glance told him Sam wasn’t in immediate peril. His young lover was sitting across from his father, face utterly still and emotions roiling so fast Gabriel could barely keep up. Dean was nowhere to be seen, and John Winchester’s face was carved from granite as he tried—and failed—to stare his youngest into submission. Gabriel’s eyes lingered on the table, and the stake sitting innocuously on it that told the entirety of the tale. Well, well, well, seemed Johnny wasn’t quite as oblivious as Gabriel had thought—that, or he’d gotten more of an eyeful than the angel had intended. Obviously he honestly believed Sam would kill his Trickster lover on his command and he wasn’t very pleased at meeting resistance. Even more obviously, Sammy had dug his heels in good and hard and wasn’t budging an inch.
Probably just as well he’d encouraged Sam’s applications at some of the top colleges in the country, Gabriel mused as he leaned against the threshold and waited for the fireworks. Stanford was his bet. Easy enough to settle there with Sammy, keep his mortal in the type of luxury Sam had never tasted before. With wards no demon would dare breach; he’d heard the rumors that Azazel was stirring again, and while he’d burned out the demon’s claim with his own long ago, that didn’t mean he was about to let old Yellow-Eyes anywhere near Sam. He’d even toss in a spare bedroom for Dean, because where one brother went the other usually turned up in fairly short order.
“I’m not going to kill him,” Sam said through clenched teeth, and John slammed a hand down on the table hard enough to rock it, sending the stake clattering unheeded off the end.
“You’re my son, living under my roof, and you’ll do as I say, dammit!”
Sam’s eyes flashed. “No, I won’t. I’ve had enough. I’m sick of being dragged across the country hunting things, never having a normal life, never having any life at all. I’m sick of lying to people and ducking questions because my latest teacher noticed bruises and I can’t exactly tell her they’re from a ghost.” He leaned forward, eyes blazing. “I applied to colleges, a whole lot of them, and Stanford’s offered me a full ride.”
The rage that filled John’s eyes wasn’t entirely sane, and Gabriel tensed, prepared to interfere before he let the man harm Sam. But he wasn’t quite expecting what John said.
“You go, you don’t come back. Ever. You understand?”
It was déjà vu all over again, Dad and Lucifer, except here there wasn’t even the offer of forgiveness. Sam sat back, face white and eyes stricken for a long moment, and Gabriel held his breath. All John had to do was reach out, relent just a little. Sammy wouldn’t kill Gabriel, but he’d stay, keep hunting, and the devastation in his eyes made Gabriel briefly hope John would bend his stubborn neck just a hair. John didn’t, just leaned down to pick up the stake and set it down on the table in silent command, and Gabriel winced as Sam’s eyes went flat and hard.
“So be it.” Sam shot to his feet, grabbing up his pack as John faltered, apparently finally realizing this wasn’t going as he’d planned.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Choosing him over you.” Sam shut the door quietly behind him. Anger carried him several feet down the road and into the shelter of the screening trees before he faltered. Gabriel dropped his invisibility and wrapped strong arms around his mortal as Sam shook in shock and grief.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Sammy.”
“He—he wanted me to kill you. Didn’t care that you saved me, that you’ve been protecting me all these years. All he cared about was that you’re not human.” Sam’s eyes were bright with unshed tears as he stared at Gabriel. “How could that be all that mattered?”
Because John was firmly black and white. Sam, and now Dean, weren’t, and that might well keep them alive and sane. Gabriel wasn’t fooling himself; Sam was a hunter born and raised, he’d go back sooner or later, probably at Dean’s side the whole way.
“Bet it’d have made a difference if I’d told him who you really were,” Sam muttered resentfully, and Gabriel blinked.
“What?”
Sam paled a little. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Gabriel stared at him, then rolled his eyes. His own fault, he’d dropped too many clues over the years for someone as smart as Sammy to ignore. “How long have you known?”
Sam squirmed a little. “Um, about…three years?” He grimaced when Gabriel arched a brow—fifteen, really? “The witch who took me, the one you turned into salt, she, um, she wanted to know why I had your name written on me. Apparently literally.”
Gabriel sighed. “Of course she did.” He shrugged after a moment; Sammy had had three years and hadn’t flipped out, or turned into an adoring puddle of worshipful goo, not even in bed. Besides, he’d been meaning to tell the kid anyway. “Right. Stanford it is. I’m guessing you mentioned this to Dean?”
Sam shrugged again, this time even more guiltily, but he didn’t keep secrets from his big brother. And yeah, this did explain Dean’s lack of freaking out over a Trickster in his brother’s bed. “Okay then.” He pressed his fingers to Sam’s forehead, and his penthouse in San Palto appeared around them. “Welcome to your new home, sealed nice and tight against everything that goes bump in the night. Except me. I’ve made sure you’re listed as staying off campus for the duration.”
Sam stared at him with wide, dazzled eyes. “I—wow. Thank you, Gabriel.”
It was only the beginning and Gabriel knew it. Sam wanted a break from hunting but he didn’t have it in him to ignore the monsters that went bump in the night forever; sooner or later he’d be back at Dean’s side. Azazel wasn’t going to give up so easy, and neither would Lucifer or Michael, not when their Apocalypse was inches away from their grasp. And sooner or later, Sam would have to know it all if Gabriel was to keep him safe.
But not right now. Now, they had a few years of peace, to settle into their bond and enjoy each other. It wouldn’t last, but then peace never did. And when Heaven and Hell came calling, they would find Gabriel at his mate’s side.