Transmission from the Trickster

Chapter 59

"Alright, talk to me," Dean says, seemingly out of nowhere. "What's going on?"

Sam, who had been staring out the window for the last few hours, looks over at his brother, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Dean says, and he really seems to believe that.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "No, actually, I really don't."

Dean glances over at him and rolls his eyes. "You've barely said two words since we left. You haven't even complained that my music's too loud."

"And if I did, would you turn it down?" Sam asks, as if he hasn't gotten the same answer to that every time he's mentioned it for decades.

"No, but usually you'd at least ask," Dean says. "Come on, man, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Sam says, and he really means it. Things are going pretty well right now. For once, the end of the world isn't just around the corner. It's nice to be able to relax for once.

"Nothing," Dean repeats skeptically.

"Nothing!" Sam insists. "Seriously, Dean, I'm fine. Hell, I'm great."

"Uh-huh," Dean says sarcastically.

They lapse into silence, and Sam turns his head again, gazing out the window to pass the time. Long car rides have become exponentially more boring since they found a permanent home in the bunker. Now that they don't live in their car, spending too much time in it is painfully boring.

Dean breaks the silence again a few minutes later, just asking, "Is it Gabriel?"

Sam scoffs. "Is what Gabriel?"

"I don't know, it," Dean says vaguely. "Whatever's eating at you."

"Dude, nothing is eating at me," Sam says. As an afterthought, he adds, "And why would you think it would be Gabriel, of all things?"

"I dunno," Dean says. "I mean, clearly it's something that I don't care about and you do. I figure you and him have some weird friendship that I'll never understand. Made sense to me."

"Just 'cause you don't like him doesn't mean it's weird that I do," Sam says. "I mean, Jack likes him. Mom likes him. Cas likes him. Does that make them weird, too? 'Cause it looks to me like you're the weird one here."

"Mom and Jack don't know him," Dean says. "I don't blame them for liking him. But we've had to deal with his bullshit time and time again. If Cas can overlook that one time Gabriel tried to beat him to a bloody pulp, fine, but I for one still hold a grudge about that whole TV Land thing, not to mention the fact that he murdered me a hundred times. Call me crazy, but I really don't think it's weird for me not to like him."

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. "Okay, whatever." It's not worth the fight. If Dean is going to change his mind, he's going to have to do it on his own.

Dean scoffs. "That's it?"

"Yes, Dean, that's it," Sam deadpans. "You have to realize you're the last person I would want to talk to about Gabriel, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Sam says. "Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't laugh in my face if I tried to talk about why I'm concerned?"

Dean does not, in fact, laugh in his face; instead, he looks over at his brother, brows furrowed. "You're concerned? What, about Gabriel?"

Sam sighs and waves it off. "Never mind. Forget it." This is exactly the type of conversation he didn't want to get into.

Dean returns his gaze to the road, but his look of confusion doesn't change. "Why are you concerned about Gabriel? He's doing fine."

"Forget I said anything," Sam says.

"No, seriously," Dean says. "I'll even pretend I care about him for a minute if it means you'll talk to me. Why are you worried?"

Sam sighs. "He just... He isn't doing well."

Dean scoffs. "What are you talking about? He's all smiles and sarcasm all the time. That's the norm for him."

"No, it's —" Sam frowns. "Well, I mean, it is, but it's not."

"Because that clarifies things."

If Sam were any less concerned about Gabriel, he might have rolled his eyes at that. Instead, his energy is focused on trying to explain to Dean what he doesn't want to hear.

"That sarcastic facade is a..." He gestures vaguely, searching for the right phrase. "A defense mechanism. You should understand that better than anyone. He —"

"Hey!" Dean whines. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam ignores that. "He's spent millennia pretending to be okay when he's not. He's good at it. But when he drops his guard, you can tell he's not okay. He just.." He shrugs helplessly. "He won't talk about it."

"So?"

Sam just looks at him. What does he mean, "so?" So Gabriel won't talk to him. He won't let anyone help him. Even if Dean doesn't care, he has to understand.

"I mean, come on," Dean says. "You don't talk about all your problems. That doesn't have me worrying about your wellbeing or whatever."

Sam frowns. He has a point. As much as he wishes the guy would talk to him, he can't expect it. He's far from the first person to want to keep his problems to himself. Sam himself has had a lot of experience with it.

It's just frustrating. Sam wants to help him, and he can't do that if Gabriel won't tell him how.

"Look," Dean says. "He's an archangel. He's a bazillion years old. I'm sure he's been through a lot of shit in his life and I'm sure he knows how to deal with it. Just let him do his thing."

Sam sighs. "I guess." He may not be in a good place right now, but he's in a good enough place that he can pretend he's okay. Maybe Sam should just leave well enough alone. It will be better for everyone in the long run.