Title: Exegesis
Pairing(s): Sabriel pre-slash, and hints of Destiel.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all affiliated characters do not (and will never) belong to me.

I come bearing more fic! Supernatural fic! After my exams I just wanted to mess with canon and have my angels back c:
This will be part of a longer verse, with at least two or three one-shots to follow. Self-beta'd again because I suck so any and all errors are my own.

-x-

It's easy for Sam to forget what Gabriel is. He hides his true self under so many lies and untruths, almost like a mask, a subtle one that he pulls over his face whenever anyone comes near him. Even his vessel is meant to downplay what he is, the short, unassuming façade it presents lending itself to the fact that Gabriel is just one of those guys you see every day; a forgettable face in a sea of thousands. Indistinguishable. And even Sam, who knows – who should know – what he is, often finds himself working under the assumption that Gabriel is... Gabriel. Gabriel's just that short, annoying guy – the asshole who showed him his brother dying over and over, and the dick who turned him into a car.

And not just any car, but the fucking Impala.

He's the Trickster; he's sarcastic and deceptive. Hell, the guy can't be taller than 5'8", practically a midget next to Sam himself, and he seems to be able to conjure sweets and candy from just about anywhere! Sometimes Sam wonders if Gabriel has the ability to take anything seriously at all, the jokester routine becoming so deeply ingrained into his personality after centuries upon centuries on earth.

Clearly he spends too much time thinking about this.

However, it's moments like these where he's painfully reminded that Gabriel is really fucking dangerous. He's not the Trickster he pretends to be – he's not Loki, not really. No, Gabriel is an archangel, the messenger of God, and if he wanted to he could wipe them all out with nary a thought. He remembers something Castiel told them once, the words hitting him like a rock to the head, even as he watches Gabriel dodge a blow from one of the demons, his face a mixture of amusement and the usual cockiness that he displays in just about everything.

"Archangels are fierce," Castiel's voice echoes even as Sam finishes off his own demon, panting heavily, and for a moment Sam could swear the angel was standing right next to him instead of grappling over on the other side of the large cavern with Dean. "They're Heaven's most terrifying weapons."

And these demons, Sam thinks, something akin to awe curling in the pit of his stomach – awe and perhaps a faint dash of fear – these demons are nothing but playthings to Gabriel. Sam has seen Castiel eradicate one of those creatures by just touching them, and he was only an angel – a soldier of God. If that was what he could do, then what about Gabriel?

Sam swallows thickly, and as if sensing his thoughts the archangel turns back to look at him, winking once before placing his hand on one of the demons, watching in satisfaction as it crumbles away with a final shriek. It's the last of them, Sam realizes belatedly, even as Dean and Cas make their way back towards them, and if Sam happens to notice the way they stand closer to each other than they need to, well, no one points it out.

"Sammy," Dean greets, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Castiel gives him a brief nod, but his eyes flicker to Dean soon after he's made sure that no one else is injured or, you know, dying. Gabriel is next, smarmy grin in place as he plants himself beside Castiel, looking as smug as ever.

"Sammy," the archangel echoes, but it sounds unsure coming from him, more… hesitant. This strikes Sam as odd, but he smiles at both of them, and Dean is muttering to Castiel almost as soon as he has also made sure Sam's not dying and really, you think they both would have taken the hint by now. It was baffling as all hell, really, the fact that they weren't… together. Not that Sam wanted to think about his brother and the angel having filthy, filthy sex while he tried to bury his head pathetically under the pillow (from another room, hopefully), it's just that he was as tired as the next guy watching them give each other bedroom eyes without even realizing it. In Dean's own words, the last time someone had looked at his brother like that, they had gotten laid.

Gabriel's looking at him, Sam realizes with a start, one eyebrow raised as if he knows exactly what is occupying the youngest Winchester's mind, and knowing Gabriel and his freaky angel-powers (even freakier than Castiel's) he very well could know. Sam clears his throat awkwardly, glancing away first, and he catches Gabriel's smirk out of the corners of his eyes.

"All right, Dean-o, I'd hate to break you away from Cassie's lovely blue eyes, but…?"

"Can it, Gabriel," Dean says automatically, his eyes snapping away from Castiel's as if he had been struck by a bolt of spontaneous and very much invisible lightning. Sam hides a snicker; however, by the look Dean gives him, he thinks his older brother knows anyway. Gabriel, for his part, merely rolls his shoulders in what Sam considers to be a parody of a shrug. Still, when they all fall in together, moving back to the Impala, they're in two rows of two: Dean and Castiel at the front, Sam and Gabriel at the back, that mysterious smirk the archangel is so damn fond of plastered to his face, while Sam just shoves his hands into his pockets and glances up at the moon. The look only lasts for a few seconds, but by the time he returns his gaze to his brother and the angel, he feels almost… peaceful.

It's funny because peaceful and Winchesters go together so horribly that they might as well be antonyms. In fact, Sam's pretty sure they are.

Sneaking a glance at the archangel beside him, Sam is surprise to a faint smile flicker across his face, which seems to radiate… contentment. That's the only word to describe it. He doesn't look smug and irritating like usual, his mouth contorted in a confident smirk as he messes with the lives of some unfortunate mortal. No, instead he just looks… well, he looks happy. Like he's truly happy to be here, at some ungodly hour of the early morning (though he supposes angels don't sleep), trudging through a damp field beside Sam. Sam finds himself oddly transfixed, and it's not for the reasons he had originally thought.

No, more than anything, Gabriel looks human.

It's a funny expression to use, seeing as Gabriel is more human than most of his "siblings," even going so far as to express occasional admiration for the things mortals had accomplished. Still, even these allowances were often said with the arrogance of someone who had lived to see great things come and go; civilizations rise and fall. And it made sense didn't it? Gabriel was the fourth created, the youngest archangel, God's very messenger. And yet, even with all thing experience, the way he acted was so characteristic of an immortal that it screamed supernatural creature to Sam, who had been blessed (using the term lightly) with the occasionally visit from the flighty archangel.

"Sam!" Sam is alert enough to hear Dean's voice as he snaps a warning at him, but not quick enough to heed it, as evidenced by the sudden feeling of metal against his skin as he literally walks into the Impala, reeling back and landing hard on the ground.

Dean's laughter is instantaneous and very, very audible in the near-silence, and Sam scowls at him even as his brother continues to get louder and louder.

"You going to just sit there, Sammy, or are you going to get up?" Gabriel asks suddenly, his voice dry and annoyingly patronizing even as he holds out a hand, which Sam takes without worry that he would pull the archangel down with him. Superior strength and all that.

Still, even when he was being hauled up, he couldn't help but notice the faint tingling that remained in his, spreading up his arm and eventually making his whole body shudder.

Huh. Odd. Well, it was a little chilly… Sort of…

He must have been staring, because Dean's voice suddenly goes from incredibly amused to serious and concerned, and if Sam's mind hadn't been so blank he would have made a mother hen reference.

"Sam?" Dean asks, and Sam snaps his eyes away from his and Gabriel's joint hands, where they soon rest on Gabriel's face, but instead of complacence in the archangel's expression he finds something unreadable; something old that echoes in the hazel eyes of the vessel Gabriel occupies. Sam coughs, withdrawing his hand, and slowly Gabriel retracts his own, sliding it smoothly into the pocket of his green jacket with an airy smirk, but it seems more like a habit than a genuine gesture.

Sam swallows, but he says nothing, and after a couple of seconds Dean speaks again, his confused "Okay" stretching on for longer than needed.

Castiel, already in the backseat of the Impala, merely watches them with impassive blue eyes, and even as Dean jerks the door of the driver's side open he doesn't take his eyes from Gabriel, making Sam wonder if they were using any of that freaky-angel-telepathy.

"I'll be heading out," Gabriel says then. "You know, tricks to play, roles to assign."

And when Gabriel vanishes into thin air, with naught but the faint sound of rustling feathers accompanying his departure, Sam finds he can't quite understand the gnawing sensation of emptiness where his heart lies.