I'm still incorporating stories from this series from my other fanfiction accounts onto this site. If I had a modicum of intelligence, I would have put all of the stories as multiple chapters in one consolidated folder - but they're disjointed because I started writing the series way back when I didn't realize it was a series at all, and I was playing around with "just fanfiction." Anyway ...
This is part thirteen of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. It was written and originally published way back in December 2018. More to come.
If you want to read the rest in the meantime, check out the series Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels on Archive of Our Own. Find me on Tumblr too, under UnityGhost.
Thank you for reading!
Daytime was getting to be more manageable. But Gabriel's patience wore thin as the nightmares continued to harass him almost every time he closed his eyes, more than half a year since he'd come to stay with Sam and Dean at the bunker.
Gabriel had been so sure that as his grace gradually returned – a process still ongoing – and he needed less and less sleep to function properly, the bad dreams would become shorter. Less vivid.
But almost every night, they did what they had since his rescue: broken up his sleep, made him need more sleep, and ultimately hindered the replenishment of his grace.
Practice made it easier to keep from disturbing other people – people who had already done too much to try to hold him in one piece. He grew accustomed to waiting out the rest of the night alone. It was now almost instinctual to lie in bed instead of collapsing to the floor, to roll over and throw up into the trash can instead of on himself, to wait patiently for any impending abuse instead of trying to fight back.
But sometimes Gabriel wasn't successful: he would succumb to a fit of panic, sobbing for help; he would vomit all over the sheets; he would grew desperate enough that he ran out of his room and stumbled over his own feet, pitching to the floor and inevitably waking someone up.
Castiel was usually the first to notice Gabriel's distress, since he was the only one among them that required no sleep at all. He never reacted with alarm or confusion, and never asked questions. Instead, he simply did what he could to get Gabriel through the worst of it: sitting with him, quietly insisting that he was no longer in danger, holding him steady while he got sick, remaining patient as Gabriel gave in to memories that refused to remain memories.
Gabriel appreciated his brother's assistance. In those moments of terror, he was grateful for a reassuring presence.
Still, it was no secret to any of them that Gabriel had an extreme preference for Sam.
It was Sam who had coaxed him out of insanity shortly following his rescue. Sam had seen him at his worst, worse than what the others thought was the ugliest he could get. Whereas Castiel, too, had witnessed the immediate aftermath of Gabriel's liberation, Sam had been the one to press on Gabriel's vulnerabilities just hard enough to show that he knew where they were, but not with enough force to increase the pain.
Gabriel had responded with the first of many violent seizures of fear and sickness, and Sam didn't leave. Nor did he squirm or look away. He did what he could to make touch seem a little less damning, to furnish at least the illusion of safety.
So at this point, especially now that this same process had taken place at least once every couple of weeks since that first episode of self-debasement, Sam was the only one Gabriel really wanted nearby in the fallout of a nightmare. It helped to have someone else, anyone else, because of course the alternative was being alone; but having Sam there was different from not having Sam there.
So there were times when Gabriel could cope by himself, and times when he was compelled to seek assistance.
And then there were times when the source of help absolutely had to be Sam.
Tonight, the dream dragged on for a long while before Gabriel woke up. When he did, the darkness felt thick, warm, and sour. Images from the dream clattered through his mind in pieces and he strove to identify exactly what it was that had caused him to feel so ...
In fact, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. His reaction to the dream, like the dream itself, took some organization. In any case, he was sweaty and trembling.
Then, as if in sync with his wild heartbeat, pictures and voices began to come together.
"He's right here." Gabriel recognized Dean's voice.
"Where's Sam?" Gabriel. That was Gabriel.
"Just hold him down, Dean." Castiel. "He won't fight."
The floor of the hall was slippery, so that Gabriel couldn't stand without struggling and was unable to focus on anything other than maintaining his balance. He had no way of knowing how close the voices were.
He slipped, spilling onto the floor.
Gabriel shivered. He no longer tried to recall the nightmare; he was now powerless to slow its return.
"Dean, are you sure we should be following these orders? I don't want to give in to Asmodeus if I can help it."
"We tried, Cas. Gabriel's a pain. I told you that. He's taking too long."
"Well, I suppose at least Asmodeus will find him useful."
Gabriel tried to get up from the floor but was pushed back down – not violently, but firmly – and recognized the pressure and tightness of the hands as Dean's.
"What are you doing to me?" Gabriel screamed. "Please, please, get Sam!"
A knife through his back, pinning him down, forcing his breath away, stinging as he flailed and choked.
"Asmodeus told me this trick always worked. Come on, Cas. Let's go see if he's ready yet."
Gabriel tried to speak, tried to ask what Asmodeus was ready for, but managed only a whisper and lost more breath.
Gabriel sat up in bed, trying to shut out the rest. But it flooded him.
Taking quick, shallow breaths, Gabriel leapt out of bed and, only half-aware of what he was doing, sprinted to the door.
After that nightmare – images of which still crawled through his conscience – Gabriel felt that he had no dignity to sacrifice, not when he'd just been locked to the floor with a knife through his spine, waiting for Asmodeus to drag him back to Hell.
Gabriel didn't care what happened next. He only knew he couldn't remain lying prostrate in the hall, stabbed and suffocated by people he had thought - foolishly - he might be able to trust.
Do you trust Sam? he asked himself, and the answer was a mess. He did trust Sam, but felt that he shouldn't; and yet he didn't trust Sam, even as he desperately wanted to. He was sure now that Sam would never intend to cause him harm, but he was also convinced that Sam didn't have the grit to keep helping him.
And this - was this a mistake? Running to Sam in the dead of night, risking punishment and further humiliation?
Instinct overrode analysis.
Gabriel didn't even pause to knock on the door. Immediately, Sam switched on the bedside lamp, gun raised and aimed directly at Gabriel. Perhaps Gabriel should have expected it. Even so, he threw his arms over his face and stumbled backwards.
He heard the weapon being lain on the bedside table, and then Sam climbing out of bed and moving towards him.
Sam pried Gabriel's arms away from his face. "Hey hey hey, I just didn't know it was you. You're all right."
The gun had given Gabriel such a shock that he now shook hard enough to make standing a challenge. He thought again of falling to the floor before Dean shoved him into submission.
"Sorry," Sam said, bracing both hands on either of Gabriel's shoulders. "I'm sorry; I left because you fell asleep."
Sam had taken to staying with Gabriel until Gabriel was no longer awake. Sam had been the one to suggest it, and while Gabriel had initially scoffed and reminded Sam that as long as he was playing nursemaid, Gabriel was never going to regain even a fragment of his former self, he didn't try to argue a second time.
Now, Sam guided Gabriel to the bed and helped him sit. "You look pretty riled up."
"Yeah, I ...I'm sorry, Sam; I couldn't help it."
"No, don't worry. You're okay now. It's all over. Oh, hang on - " He went to the closet and brought back a plastic bucket, which he placed in front of the bed. "Figured it was better to keep on hand than the trash. Just, you know, if you need it."
Gabriel blinked at the bucket. "You have bigger things to worry about. But I guess there's less chance of me puking all over your bed."
Sam took a seat beside him. "Tell me what's up."
.Gabriel lowered his gaze to his lap. "Stupid nightmares being stupid."
"I figured. The usual? Or something new?" Sam knew that there was no shortage of fresh material.
Gabriel's flesh crawled as the dream broke through once more. "I've never had this one."
"Must've been pretty bad."
"It - yeah." He tried to meet Sam's eyes and immediately looked away again. "Your brother. And my brother. They - they, uh - "
"You don't have to tell me if you feel like you can't."
"No, I'm fine." Gabriel steeled himself. At this point he had settled down just enough to feel embarrassed. The least he could do was give Sam an explanation for why he had intruded upon his much-needed sleep. "Dean and Cas rammed a knife through my back so that Asmodeus could get to me. I was held in place - on the floor - like it was a stake or something. Left me feeling a little ..." His throat tightened. "I mean, I woke up and you were the only safe person left."
Sam rested a hand on Gabriel's back. "I'm here. You wanna lie down?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Might fall asleep. I'd rather stay awake and pity myself than listen to Dean and Castiel talk about how hopeless I am."
Sam frowned, letting his hand slide off. "Is that why Asmodeus was coming back for you? Because Dean and Cas decided you were a lost cause?"
Gabriel grimaced. "You put the pieces together fast, don't you? Yeah. That was why. They said they'd tried to help me but it didn't work, and Asmodeus would at least find me - "
But the word froze on his tongue.
"Would find you what?" asked Sam.
Gabriel pulled his knees up to his chest. "'Useful.'"
Sam seemed unsurprised. "You don't have to be useful. In any case, you've been great with the translations. But we wouldn't give you back to Asmodeus. Of course we wouldn't. We'd rather keep you here."
"That's nice of you," Gabriel muttered. "I - I just - if I'm, you know, expendable, then why should I stick around?"
"'Stick around'?" Sam sounded wary.
"Stick around in the bunker, I mean," Gabriel clarified, because he knew that if he said what he really meant then the conversation would shift course. "You could throw me away any time you want. I mean, look, it scares the everliving shit out of me, but when I really consider the big picture, Dean and Cas weren't actually incorrect. Not saying you'd feed me to Asmodeus - just making note of the fact that I was useful to him and now I ... I'm not useful to anyone."
Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You don't have to be useful to be worth something." He thought for a moment, then added, "People pay out the ass just to be able to put sparkly rocks on the shelf. And what good to they do? People just want to have them there."
Gabriel gave a hollow laugh. "I'm pretty sure I'm just your standard boulder. The kind you trip over. The kind with bugs crawling around underneath."
"Okay, well, giving bugs somewhere to live is way more helpful than just looking pretty."
"Sam ..." Gabriel tried to take a deep breath and found he couldn't. "It isn't being useful that matters. It's that being useful is the only thing that makes me matter."
Sam looked distressed. "Don't say things like - "
"Grace. I'm good for my grace." Gabriel felt his throat tighten and coughed to clear it. "So long as I'm here, just waking up to throw a fit, I don't matter, okay? And when I was with him," Gabriel plowed on as Sam opened his mouth, "I wasn't anything; I was ... I was nothing. But I mattered. Because I could supply something that mattered. And now ..." He swallowed. "Now I can't even do that."
"Gabe, come on."
"Can't think of a solid excuse for that one, can you? Good. This is just how things are, Sam. I'm worth my grace and I barely have enough to heal a bruise. Or maybe I'm good for a fight here and there, or - or whatever anyone wants to do with me, you know? Lay me down, play their games - I'm useful for that."
Sam looked nauseated. "Gabriel, stop."
Gabriel raked his hands through his hair. It felt greasy. Sam was right; he needed to clean himself up. "Sometimes I think it'd make sense. Scares me, but you guys might as well ship me off somewhere I actually have a purpose."
"Gabriel, don't. Please." Sam gripped his shoulder. "You're in a bad place and you need to get better. This isn't the time for you to be useful, okay? This is a time for you to listen. So listen to me. What if it were Cas? What if he was in pain and told you he thought we should only keep him around for servitude?"
Gabriel shook his head. "I'm not trying to tell you I don't appreciate all the TLC. I'm just saying that the dream hurt, but it wasn't wrong."
Sam tightened his grasp. "I don't understand why you're putting yourself through more abuse."
Gabriel shrugged, half-expecting Sam to let go of his shoulder. When he held on, Gabriel looked up at him. "I know what I'm good for. And at the moment I'm good for bulking up your daycare resume. I still think you're going to learn the hard way that you're spending time on a project that can't be finished. But if working on it right now makes you happy, then ... well, I'm glad to be a part of that."
"Jesus Christ, Gabriel." This time Sam did release him. "Come on. Don't hurt yourself like that. Here, lie down for a second; you can just - "
Gabriel recoiled. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not." The sensation of the knife through his back sullied the security of Sam's presence.
"All right." Sam spoke softly. "But you know none of this is real, don't you? You know Dean and Cas would never do something like that, right? And Asmodeus is dead, but even if he did try to take you, we'd put up a good fight. He's not getting anywhere near you. Mostly because he's gone, but also because even if he wasn't, we'd keep you safe."
Despite Sam's words, Gabriel began to shiver more forcefully. "But what if - "
"No. There's no 'what if.'"
"If they - I think - " He drew a shaky breath and looked up at Sam. "If Dean or Castiel decided they'd had more than their fair share of a psychotic archangel, that's their right. They never said anything about wanting me. But if - if you - "
"Don't."
"If you were the one to shove a knife through me - "
"I said don't!"
"I'd never tell you you shouldn't, but - "
"You don't have to tell me! We've been through this; I'm not gonna throw you onto the streets or into the pit just because you're not at a hundred percent right now! What, you think Dean and Cas should've done that to me?"
"No!" The thought was enough to turn Gabriel's stomach. "But that's different. You guys are family. You're family in a way that even Cas and I aren't."
"But Cas cares about you. So does Dean. And Jack. And you've made it clear that you think I shouldn't care, but I do. Quit waiting for the other shoe to drop. Gabriel, your job isn't to stand sentry until one of us gets fed up; it's to leave Asmodeus behind and start trusting us when we say you shouldn't have been tortured. None of us wants to see you like this, and all of us want you to get better. For your sake, not ours."
Gabriel shifted his eyes once more to his lap, not sure how to respond. Finally, he managed to say, "This is a no-win situation. I don't heal, I mooch off of you guys. I get better, it's time for me to go."
"What? Who told you that?"
"Just makes sense."
"We're not getting rid of you."
"No, it's okay; you should. I don't mind; I just ..." He curled his hands into fists, and felt a tear spill down his cheek. "All right. I mind. But - I also understand."
"Dude, will you stop making plans for us? You can stay as long as you want."
Gabriel lowered his head further, trying to shield his face, sick of crying in front of Sam. "I feel like - like I've got to prepare myself."
He felt Sam shift closer. "You spent over eight hundred years with Asmodeus, preparing yourself for his next move. Don't you think you deserve a little time to relax?"
Gabriel choked on a muffled sob. It was as though he still lacked autonomy, as though everything he'd faced was still trying to wrestle itself out of him and the desperate ferocity of its efforts kept Gabriel himself from getting free.
He swiped at his face with the heels of his hands. "I think you and your brother should train me to control myself."
"It's okay," Sam said quietly. "You know you're allowed to show me what's going on."
"And you're allowed to mix ectoplasm into a milkshake, but that doesn't make it a good idea." He straightened up and looked at Sam. "We both need this to end. Sooner or later it's just going to get worse. Habits are hard to break, and I can't say I'm proud of losing my shit every time we're in the same room."
"Take it easy. Now's not the time to worry about saving face." He touched Gabriel's arm. "You're sick, Gabriel. When you're sick you're not supposed to care what other people think. All you need to do is rest up and let us take care of you."
Almost unaware of what he was doing, Gabriel seized Sam's hand. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it hurts, man. I don't know what to do with it. I'm scared I'm gonna mess up and change your mind."
"What could you possibly do to mess up that bad?"
Gabriel clutched Sam's hand, feeling stupid but desperate. "Like this. Waking up and harassing you. Clinging to you like a squid. Spilling my guts when you have your own memories to deal with. The Cage, and ... and whatever you haven't told me. I know that some of what I say to you hits close to home, Sam. And eventually it's going to be too much."
Sam squeezed back. "No, that's not going to happen. I've had time to handle my own crap. Besides, the more I know what it's like, the more I want to help. You aren't making anything worse."
"But Dean said - " Gabriel hesitated. "Dean said you get like me. That's got to make it hard to drag yourself through everything I tell you. Everything you have to watch."
Sam looked discomfited. "Dean told you that? I wish he hadn't. Uh - yeah, I have the occasional bad day. But - you know - even the worst aren't what they used to be. Not as often. Not as intense. I promise you aren't making things more difficult than they need to be."
"I don't believe you."
"Well, I still promise."
Gabriel stared down at Sam's hand, big enough to swallow up his own. "You think Dean would ever go for that? You know, if I did something to really bug him?"
Sam's eyes widened in horror. "What? Pin you to the floor with a knife?"
"He's not as patient as you are. I could see him giving me up if the opportunity arose."
"My brother would never do something like that! Even if he tried - he won't, but supposing he did - you think I'd just step aside and let it happen?"
A tear splashed onto Sam's knuckles. "I hope not."
"Gabriel, please don't worry so much. It's bad for you. It's not gonna help."
Gabriel didn't say anything, just focused on the knot in his throat and tried to keep his breathing under control.
"And neither is that," Sam added.
Gabriel glanced up. "Hmm?"
"How come you're still so squeamish about me seeing you get upset?"
The question took Gabriel by surprise. "I'm not squeamish. I just don't want to make it more of a habit than it already is." Gabriel glanced at the clock. 4:32. "You should go to sleep, Sam. I'll be okay. I just wanted to see you because I was freaking out."
"Why don't I come back to your room?" Sam suggested.
Gabriel climbed off the mattress. "No. I'm gonna ... I don't know. I'll find something to do."
"I kind of feel like you're not done," Sam replied.
"What?"
"Just ... it seems like this is still bothering you."
"I - " Gabriel's chest tightened as he looked at Sam.
Sam met his gaze, brow furrowed in concern.
"Son of a bitch," Gabriel whispered, and broke into a quiet fit of sobbing.
"Okay," Sam said softly. "It's okay. Come here."
Gabriel didn't move, caught halfway between wanting to sacrifice control entirely and wanting to run out of the room.
"Are you afraid of me touching you?" Sam asked.
Gabriel shook his head.
"Then why don't you want to come sit?"
Gabriel didn't respond, only stood in place, head bent, striving for some semblance of dignity.
It was late. Or early. In any case, the wrong hour for getting worked up like this.
"Gabriel, what can I do?" Sam pressed.
Still avoiding Sam's eyes, Gabriel croaked, "This is dumb. The guilt is making everything worse. You're tired, I'm tired - "
"I'm not that tired."
"Shut up; it's almost 5:00 A.M."
"Well, I'm awake now. And besides, I'm used to sleeping two or three hours at a time." He paused. "I feel like we're not finished talking, though. Your whole thing about" - he used air quotations - "'being useful'?"
Gabriel remained silent.
"I know what it feels like," Sam continued. "I was never good for just being me. I was good for hunting."
Gabriel scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. "Your old man feed you that BS?"
"Yeah. And it still rings true."
"Jesus Christ Sam, no."
"It does. And Cas feels that way now and again as well. He's lost his grace more than once, and when he was human he worried about not being good enough."
"My brother worried about that? Why? You guys wouldn't care about his grace; he's special to you."
"You're right. We tried telling him that, but I don't think he was ever fully convinced. The point is that we wanted him here, and we want you here too." Sam smiled. "We like you."
"Pfft. That's nice."
"No, I mean it. Can't you tell?"
Gabriel shrugged.
"Who asked you to be useful, Gabe?" Sam continued. "We just want to see you heal up. And after that, you can decide whether you want to stick around. It'd be good to have you. Even if you make the choice to move on, you'd at least have to come hang out once in a while."
For a few moments, Gabriel didn't speak. When he did, he chose his words carefully. "You really seem to believe you aren't going to change your mind. I ... the truth is there have been times when I thought maybe I was worrying too much. But I don't want to tempt myself with that, because the risk of being disappointed is too big. Better to just arm myself now. Otherwise, I think I might end up catatonic."
"There's no use in getting ready for something that won't happen."
"And if it does?" Gabriel crossed his arms, folding himself in, an old reflex that was hard to abandon. "I'm not saying it will, but the fact that it might is more than enough incentive for me to start stocking up on resilience."
Sam sighed. "Okay. I don't think I can make you believe me. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Just wish you'd learn that not all of us are Asmodeus."
Gabriel hadn't expected those words. "I don't think that."
"Well, maybe not that exactly, but the shit he put you through, the way he taught you to raise your defenses - it stuck. And it's hard for me to unstick."
"It's not your responsibility to unstick it," Gabriel reminded him.
Sam got to his feet. "No, but you need to shake it off. Look, whether or not I change my mind about any of this - you have to change your mind. I think you have to start telling yourself that it'll be okay. I know that sounds like it won't help but - "
"Positive ... self ... talk," Gabriel said, pretending to take notes. "Thanks, Oprah."
"You could at least do a trial run."
Gabriel groaned, battling the early sting of a headache. "His voice is too loud."
"I know."
"How am I supposed to shut it out?"
"I guess you just practice."
"That ever work for you?"
Sam had to consider this for a moment. "Yeah. I guess I didn't notice until now, but I think it's made a difference."
"Huh."
"So you have all these feelings that you're worthless, and that you're a mess. You told me once you thought Asmodeus was right to torment you like he did."
"I remember," Gabriel muttered. Some time ago, Sam had taken him out for a trip to the local diner, during which time Dean had called to ask about an error in Gabriel's translation of a Men of Letters text. Gabriel was so horrified by his mistake that he'd told Sam he was sure Asmodeus had done the right thing.
"And you have it in your head," Sam went on, "That we should all just cut you out of our lives because you're annoying and hopeless."
Gabriel smiled wryly. "You've been listening."
"So tell yourself exactly the opposite. It sucks, it's hard, but Asmodeus is the one who's annoying. Shut him up."
Gabriel bit his lip. "The problem is that I think he might be onto something. "
"He's not. Make him stop talking. He did it to you, remember?"
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "No Sam, I forgot."
"Let him see what it's like. Whenever that voice tries to tell you something about who you are, or what you deserve ..." Sam gave a knowing smile. "Pull out that needle and thread."
Gabriel pictured it, anticipating revulsion - but the image gave him grim satisfaction. "I don't know. Maybe I'll test it out."
"Good." Sam stretched, then asked, "How do you feel about grabbing some coffee so that we can both function like normal humans?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Humans, huh?"
Sam looked embarrassed. "I meant ..."
"I know what you meant. It's fine. Sooner or later you won't ever be tempted to make that mistake again."
"You want a hug?"
Gabriel blinked. "I'm sorry, what? Where did that come from?"
"I just figured I'd ask."
"When and why did you decide this?"
"If you don't think - "
"Shut up, I didn't say no. Just give me a little warning next time." He wrapped his arms around Sam, holding tightly. Sam returned the embrace.
"Sorry I'm so difficult," Gabriel muttered, still clinging to him. "And you don't need to say I'm not; I know that I am. It's okay. I know this must be rough on you. So as guilty as I feel, I still appreciate you not giving up on me."
"Yeah, of course." Sam pulled away to meet Gabriel's eyes. "I wouldn't do that. And I think what you meant to say is that the circumstances are difficult."
"Well, for what it's worth, you're more than just your hunting abilities."
"And you're more than however much grace you can supply. Let's go get some coffee. If anything'll boost your grace levels, it's that Starbucks stuff Dean splurged on."
Part of Gabriel wanted to protest that partaking of their expensive coffee would be unfair, that he didn't deserve it. But then he remembered what Sam had said to him - remembered that Gabriel had told Sam he would try and put it into practice.
I deserve the stupid coffee, he thought, feeling self-conscious.
There. He'd fulfilled his promise to Sam. At least he was useful for that much.