Author's note: This is gen, but if you want to read it as pre-slash, that's okay too.

It was edited by ThallenCambricaltran. I am about to post it to AO3 also. It's a one shot that I started the other day because I saw another prompt on Tumblr.

I've only seen supernatural up to season 6, plus the last two season 13 episodes that aired (Scoobynatural and The Thing) so I will not be held responsible for any inaccuracies for my portrayal of 10-13. There are possible spoilers for 13x17.

Sam's relationship with sleep had never not been rocky at best. The genuine fear of what demon!Dean might do to him while he slept only worsened the little amount of sleep he got to begin with.

It became a game for Sam. What nook would be hardest for anyone (Dean) to find him in. If he was going to be safe, he had to win the game of hide and seek where being found meant death.

It was watching some MCU movie that gave Sam the idea. Clint seemed like the kind of person who would nap in the vents because A) no one would look for him there and B) who would stumble upon him accidentally? Some internet searches determined that most of the fandom agreed that Clint would probably hang out in the vents, but Sam would deny having any knowledge of that. The internet was for research, not for pleasure. Er, moving on.

The bunker had weird vents and while Sam would never voluntarily go back into the sewer (that's another story), the air ducts were really really really old (ancient) and big (debatably). He did hope they wouldn't collapse on him or fall down. (That would be way too much fun.) But strangely enough, any residual claustrophobia from being in the cage with two angry archangels (Don't go there, Sam.) was nothing compared to the security in the very unlikely chance that anyone (Dean) would find him.

It wasn't about sleeping/napping in the beginning. In the beginning, it was about having alone time away from his brother when he couldn't take it anymore. But that calm brought something else, too.

The first time Sam woke up from unexpected sleep, it was from the largest uninterrupted sleep he'd had in years! Even in Stanford, insomnia had plagued him (until Jess).

Breakfast with Dean after that had been a trial. Dean's suspicion was at its worst. Mostly teasing and mocking at first, until it reached new heights. "Did you get laid? No, you couldn't have left the bunker, I'd have known…." A few more joking remarks Sam ignored until, "What the Hell are you into? You didn't relapse on the demon blood…"

"Dean! Shut the fuck up!"

"Your brother has not imbibed on demon blood, I would know," Cas interjected.

Sam fled, and after that, he made no further attempt to seek a repeat of the amazing sleep. It wasn't worth it if it was just going to set Dean off.

That's not to say that that sleep didn't find Sam whether he would wish for it or not. He would travel the vents instead of using hallways in a strange almost emulation of Clint Barton and fall asleep before arriving at his destination. He couldn't help it, these things just happened.

Which didn't do anything to alleviate Dean's suspicion that something was up with his Sammy. His Sammy didn't really care though, because every single unintentional nap that ended nightmare free was one step closer to a more relaxed Sam that didn't startle at every little noise thinking he was under attack. Sleep deprivation was a cause of paranoia, Sam read one day. Narcolepsy was falling asleep at the drop of a hat. There was some comfort for Sam in knowing what had changed. That didn't stop him from feeling a touch of satisfaction every time he woke up feeling refreshed when that hadn't happened in decades.

It was weird the first time Castiel teleported to him while he was in the vents. (Why was there even cell service in the vents? The men of letters who built the bunker lived before phone lines and the internet existed…)

"Samuel? Where are we?" Castiel asked, perpetual confusion evident.

"We're in the bunker's vents," Sam replied. He considered what justification to give. Since when had he needed an explanation for every single thing he decided to do in a day? He was an adult for fuck's sake!

"Sam?" Sam waited. Castiel didn't mention the vents. "You seem well." Sam still didn't say anything. "Can you show me where the exit from these tunnels is?"

Sam smiled slightly. "Sure."

Castiel never mentioned the air ducts. Not to Sam and not to Dean. They weren't really Sam's secret, but it kind of was.

Sam stopped sleeping in his bed altogether. Trying to sleep in the bed after the amazing sleep in the tunnels was like trying to go back to sleeping on the floor after first discovering the comfort of a good king sized mattress.

Dean didn't notice. Sammy still fell asleep while researching, so while Dean still thought something was up, everything seemed mostly normal to him. Or normal enough.

And then Jack was living in the bunker too and Cas thought they should all be good role models. Which meant reasonable sleep habits for the humans and Dean trying to make sure Sam got enough sleep.

Except Sam was always impossible to find at bedtime. He was reading or cataloging books in the various libraries or watching some movie, or cleaning something from top to bottom. (Usually the vents, or so he claimed. Cas and Jack did not understand why Sam would so frequently clean the ducts. Dean still did not know that Sam hung out in those nooks and crannies.)

But then Mary and Jack ended up in apocalypse world and Sam only slept when he fell asleep researching because Dean wouldn't give him any space at all. So it felt like just another day when Sam woke up to Dean acting a little weird. They were so close to getting what they needed to open a portal back to Apocalypse world.

It was a really long fucking day. And then it got even longer because it turned out that Gabriel was alive. Dean and Ketch went to Apocalypse world leaving Sam, Gabriel, and Cas, all by themselves.

Gabriel didn't sleep easily. He needed it to recover because Asmodeus had kept him so low for so long. He still had some grace, but not enough to fix himself even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't, because what if he needed it for something more important like defending himself? It would regenerate, of course, but it wouldn't be instantaneous.

He slept easier with his back to a wall, but even then, it was pretty lucky if he could get even a few hours of shuteye without waking up in the throes of another nightmare. Not that he let anyone know what was going on. His relationship with the Winchesters had never really developed and then after Asmodeus… It was better to stay on the defensive.

One day, a few weeks after Ketch and Dean had left for Apocalypse world, (they'd portal themselves back when they found Jack and Mary) Gabriel was walking around the bunker in the middle of the night.

In the smallest library in one of the upstairs floors, there was an entrance to the air duct system in the floor. Gabriel found Sam curled up inside it, sound asleep. Castiel was also in the room, staring at the human in confusion.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the younger angel. "Is this normal?"

"Sam spends many of his spare seconds in the vents. I do not understand why he prefers it to his bedroom."

Gabriel was still not completely aware of the everything that had happened in the last eight years, but he was still capable of seeing souls and Sam's…. He knew that Sam had been in the cage. The spell he'd suggested was one thing, but to actually get Lucifer to jump? It was a little unbelievable that Sam had managed to make it work, but it had clearly done a number to his soul. As had so many other things.

"I think I understand," Gabriel said. He had not managed to escape with as little claustrophobia as Sam appeared to have, but he could understand not wanting to be found while in his most vulnerable state. Gabriel liked corners best, and there'd been this really nice desk he'd pushed against a wall in another library.

The seraph and the archangel spent the night reading in that library. Mary Winchester may have once told her children that angels were watching over them without really understanding what that could mean, but it was true. Castiel had kind of learned better than to be obvious about staring at the Winchesters while they slept, but he was also curious about what Sam was doing.

Sam woke up to the scent of pancakes. But he couldn't remember where he was. He'd been on his way to the little library to grab a book, but climbing up the air duct was always more tiring than transversing horizontally or down, so he'd curled up for a second to catch his breath. He must have dozed off again.

He didn't realize that he wasn't alone until he had finished climbing out of the vent. Both angels were watching him. Daylight streamed through the window. "Good morning," Sam said, swallowing thickly in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

Gabriel was eating pancakes drenched in too much syrup and Castiel was watching Sam over a book he had been reading, or pretending to read. "There's pancakes if you want them," Gabriel offered.

Sam wanted to flee. He wasn't hungry, not really. Not that he'd had much of an appetite in forever. But the pancakes Gabe was eating genuinely smelled delicious and he needed to eat. "Sure," he said.

Gabriel fixed Sam a plate and put it across from him. Sam sat and picked at the pancake. It was good, but he was only so hungry.

"Why were you sleeping in the air duct?" Castiel asked. That wasn't the only question that would fix his confusion. "I was not aware that humans clean their air ducts as often as you claim to do so."

Sam nearly choked on the bite he'd just taken.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Kiddo… I've known air ducts that caught fire before anyone thought to clean them, and you don't seem like the kind of person to waste time with that. So what were you really doing?"

Sam shrugged. He sipped at his water, grateful that doing so let him think about what he wanted to say. Why did he need to justify himself? There were no demons in the air ducts, so there was no trouble for him to get into. Or was there just no trust in him because his past mistakes were that irredeemable? "It's just another passageway," Sam decided. "I was coming to get a book from here. I fell asleep, that's all."

"Sam…"

"No," Sam said. "I'm not going to talk about it." He felt angry, like they were calling him out, even though he knew he didn't really have anything to hide. He set down the fork and got up to leave. He'd only eaten half the pancake, but he was done. He wasn't going to put up with their questions or that confused look Castiel kept giving him. Gabriel just looked sad. Well, he didn't need their pity either. So what if he liked sleeping in the ducts? Maybe he did it so he didn't have to put up with stupid questions from them.

A different library in the building had a relatively long desk, almost a table really, pushed against the back corner of the room. Sam was sitting at it taking notes on a book he was reading when he dropped his pen. It rolled under the table with a light whir. Sighing, he knelt down to climb under it to get his pen back. He pulled himself farther under almost completely to the wall to be able to reach it. Having reclaimed his pen, he settled down briefly. This was a nice spot, he decided, when he rotated such that his back was against the wall, shifting his legs to stretch out in front of him, still shadowed under the table. Plus, no surprises. And if the angels believed they'd find him in the air vents because they'd ousted his spot, well…. They probably wouldn't think to look for him here.

Sam closed his eyes. He wondered if Dean and Ketch had found Jack and Mary yet. He hoped they hadn't run into any problems. Cas thought of Jack as his son just as much as Jack thought of Cas as papa. Sam couldn't remember if they'd told Gabriel about the nephilim. Hadn't the archangels been the ones to wipe out the nephilim out the first time around? Sam liked Gabriel, he really did, but they would defend Jack against anyone who tried to hurt him. Even against Gabriel.

He dozed off again. There was a reason Sam could fall asleep researching when he couldn't fall asleep in his own bed. Besides, the floor wasn't that bad.

When Sam woke up, he wasn't alone. Gabriel was napping under the same table. Which should have been weird, or disconcerting, or even a little offensive. There were plenty of other tables to nap under after all, but for some strange reason, Sam felt safe instead, protected even. His back was against a wall so no one could sneak up from behind him and Gabriel was more likely to protect him than hurt him.

Gabriel had brought more than one pillow with him and was wrapped in a fleece blanket. Sam hadn't considered putting bedding in any of his spaces because it would be too much of a giveaway that he wasn't sleeping in his own bed. Besides, if anyone found his pile of bedding, they'd know where he was and wasn't part of this supposed to be that no one could find him? But Sam… Sam wasn't as young as he'd used to be. Dean was almost forty years old. Sleeping on the floor and sleeping in the vents was hard on his back, even if the refreshing sleep without nightmares made it worth it.

But Sam felt safe here, lying on the floor under the table, back against the wall. Gabriel wasn't going to hurt him, and neither was Cas, so what did it matter if the angels knew he was here? As long as he was actually sleeping, maybe they wouldn't breath a word of it to Dean. And Dean, Dean wouldn't expect to find him in this part of a room. To Dean, if Sam was in a room he could be seen from the doorway. This was out of sight of the doorway.

"Hey." Gabriel's quiet voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts. "Do you want something to eat or are you going to go back to sleep?"

There was a pillow between their heads, so Sam reached for it and put it under his own head. It was more comfortable than using the floor or his arm as a pillow. What did he want? He felt rested enough that if Asmodeus showed his slimy self, Sam could, and would, fight him. But if going back to sleep meant putting off this conversation, that'd be nice too. Except Sam knew that Gabriel wasn't going to leave. Angels didn't need the facilities, after all, and if Gabriel didn't want to move out from under the table, he wasn't going to.

That didn't bother Sam though. Maybe it should have, but he still didn't feel trapped. Gabriel still wasn't here to hurt him, and Sam just felt safe. "A blanket would be nice," he decided. The bunker was chilly and while Sam had been dealing with it for years, it would be nice to lie here without being cold. He was hungry, but he didn't want to leave. "Can we just eat right here?"

Gabriel snapped. A big fleece comforter and fruit smoothies appeared. "Smoothie?"

"Sure, why not." Sam took his smoothie and sipped it. He was pleasantly surprised that it was not too sweet. Gabriel pushed the blanket towards him, so Sam draped it over himself. It was nice.

They laid under the table in silence only disturbed by the quiet sucking of smoothie through straw. Back before his supposed death, Gabriel might have used the straw as obnoxiously as possible, but not now.

"So tell me something, Sam-a-lam," Gabriel started.

Sam didn't have it in him to tense at that. This relaxed Gabriel was radiating peace. Or maybe it was the peacefulness of the space.

"Do you like my hiding place?" Gabriel asked. "I was thinking we could make it into an awesome pillow fort. What would it take to keep Deano out of here? A ball pit in the middle of the room? Stuffed animals on the bookshelves? What if the floor of this room was an air mattress?"

Sam listened as Gabriel's ideas got increasingly silly. This was the Gabriel he remembered. The Trickster that just wanted to have a bit of fun. These ideas might have been a lot more tame, but the goal was similar.

Things wouldn't get better instantaneous. Sam wouldn't suddenly keep normal hours and he wouldn't sudden want to sleep in his own bed, but he could handle a Gabriel willing to consider sharing the space he'd staked out away from everyone. And if Sam dozed off listening to Gabriel chattering away like a magpie, well, neither of them was going to tell.