Title: Overture in Four Parts
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Gabriel/Dean/Castiel and various combinations thereof, Implied Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Cas OTP-ness, minor Gabriel/Crowley and so minor it's hardly worth mentioning Sam/Crowley and Dean/Crowley
Rating: R
Warnings: Coarse Language, sexual references, lust spells and mentions of incest. An "almost" foursome fic.
Genre: Humour/Romance
Spoilers: Anything up to 5.10
Length: 2587

A/N: I wrote an almost foursome with Wincest... yeah, no, it still doesn't make any sense in written form either. Who am I? Where am I? What has this fandom done to my brain? I have never written anything like this before but aparently Gabe and/or Cas joining in cancels out my incest squick... Good to know! *nods nervously* Let me know if it's any good.
A prequel to Ranting in G Major (and therefore the first in my "Apocalyptic Orchestration, Angelic Symphonies and Other Love Songs" verse.)... Really, since "Ranting" made 5.10 obsolete I just needed a way to get my favourite demon into the story. And what better way than to make him BFF's with Gabriel.
A special thanks goes out to the lovely cashay who talked me down from the ledge when I was so sure this story was a load of poo and convinced me to keep writing. She also let me bounce ideas off her and put up with me reading it aloud to her to make sure I was on the right track. Love you bb!

It was official. There was no such thing as gravity, the world just sucked. And he was just sure that the universe was lying back wearing a snuggly pair of pajamas adorned with obnoxiously cute cartoon animals, eating popcorn and preparing to enjoy the next episode of "Ow, my metaphorical balls: the Sam Winchester story".

Seriously, considering the distinct lack of good stuff he had ever gotten from this crummy planet, Michael and/or Lucifer were welcome to it.

Okay, so he didn't really mean that but in view of his current circumstances, Sam figured he was allowed a moment of bitter defiance.

Not that everyone would say his current situation was bad, but then again not everyone was capable of considering future consequences, having moral dilemmas and over thinking everything while all available blood supplies were headed south.

Fuck his life!

And it wasn't as though Sam even hated witches as much as his brother did. There was that really sweet redheaded one they had met. She had obtained her powers from a pagan god (who turned out to be Gabriel, funnily enough), used them for good and had even managed to assist on their hunt. Plus when Dean wasn't looking, she had snuck Sam a cookie, ruffled his hair and called him handsome. Actually, she was kind of awesome.

But considering the whammy that had just been placed upon their ragtag group by a different witch, Sam wasn't entirely sure whether or not, if she showed up at that very moment, he could restrain himself from punching her in the face.

Fuck witches!

Sam liked to think of himself as cautious and considering, at least most of the time. Dean liked to call him paranoid and anal-retentive. Dean was a jerk.

Of course, this meant that when Sam was offered, apparently freely, something he had secretly wanted for quite some time, it just didn't sit right.

Not only did he like to look all his gift-horses right in the mouth, but he also wanted a complete medical history, a personal viewing of how well they were shoed and a rectal exam.

Dean, on the other hand, was impulsive, reckless and kinda slutty. So obviously that meant he was surreptitiously vibrating with glee. Getting to screw his awkward angel without having to admit to anything and having a perfectly reasonable excuse for doing so? He'd won the emotionally-repressed-sexually-confused lottery.

Fuck Dean!

And that was part of the problem.

A massive, world-changing, therapy-requiring part of the problem that nobody else had seemed to realize yet.

Well, almost nobody.

'When this all goes down do you want to "top" or "bottom" with your brother because I'm pretty sure I can maintain enough control to work it to your preference.'

If whispers could dance, that one was doing the Macarena.

Stupid smug Gabriel and his stupid gravity-defying ability to reach Sam's ear to murmur disturbing things into it.

Did he have to sound so thrilled about the fact that this curse probably wouldn't give a fat rat's ass about things like sibling bonds, incest laws and ick factors?

In actuality, Gabriel seemed almost as excited as Dean. Which was saying something because Dean looked about ready to burst with joy. You know, in-between the token stomping, swear words and feeble attempts at acting like he was outraged and disgusted by the whole thing.

The archangel actually looked like he was trying to decide between snapping up chocolate or strawberry lube.

But who was Sam kidding? The archangel had more than likely had more orgies than Sam had had home-cooked meals.

Oh, am I stuck in a fuck-or-die spell with my rebel little bro and two human brothers twice my size? It lasts twelve hours, we're stuck in this room and it's about to kick in? Must be Thursday!

Fuck Gabriel!

And, God, how he wanted to. Had wanted to for longer than he cared to remember.

But this was neither the time nor the place. He had more important things to worry about. Things like figuring a way out of this mess, maintaining some level of plausible deniability about his feelings and Castiel, who had just discovered his brand new boner and now looked vaguely terrified.

Cas had actually looked concerned and freaked out since the witch had sealed them in. Sam, realizing the route Dean's brain would take, had appointed himself the angel's bodyguard.

But things had obviously progressed beyond Sam's control, as he was now not entirely sure whether he was supposed to be protecting Castiel's honor or using his teeth to remove the angel's trench coat.

'Teeth'll take too long Sammy. Use those big hands of yours.'

Sam had apparently made that musing out loud, as Dean did not have mind reading powers.

But he did however think Sam had big hands.

This was getting very distressing very quickly.

Especially seeing as the sight of Dean tracing his way up a newly eager Castiel's neck with his tongue was not unsettling at all but a bit of a turn on.

And Gabriel running his fingers up Sam's sides and under his t-shirt was not helping. Nor was the archangel whispering the various dirty things he'd like to do to the younger Winchester into his shoulder blade.

When Dean reached over to twine his fingers with Gabriel's, Sam was almost certain he was going to lose his mind due to the sheer overwhelming hotness of the situation.

'I'm not interrupting anything am I?'

Now, normally, a random British accent coming from somewhere that a moment ago was devoid of any likely British sounding entities would completely put a dampener on all of Sam's amorous intentions.

But, right now, he wanted to pin the owner of that voice down and kiss the ever-loving shit out of him. What was it about some accents that made them sexy as hell?

Luckily, Dean sucking on Gabriel's finger while Castiel nibbled at Dean's ear and Gabriel rutted against Sam's back was distracting. Hot, wrong and awesome but definitely distracting. Which thankfully stopped Sam from molesting a stranger.

For now.

'About fucking time you got here Crowley! I was about to use Sasquatch here in various bendy ways he's obviously not built for. And Deano was next.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I was only in the middle of the deal of the bloody year. Next time I'll be sure to drop everything and come running to your aid straight away whenever you call. It's not my fault I misjudged you as an all-powerful archangel who could at least dodge a basic lust spell.'

'Just because I'm "all-powerful" doesn't mean I know what I'm doing. You should know that by now. I tend to get unfocused easily… it's part of my charm.'

'If by charm you mean things that make other people want to strangle you then yes, yes it is.'

'Bite me Demon!'

'Looks like I'd have to get in line.'

Sam struggled to focus on the tennis-match like conversation going on between Gabriel and the smug, stocky, slightly-balding bastard in the expensive suit who was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room like he owned the place.

Well, at least until Gabriel said the D-word. Then it was full attention on the new arrival.

Ok, so as much attention as he could give considering Cas was lapping at his nipple through his t-shirt while Dean had moved onto his hand suggesting that he probably did hold some deep-seated fascination with Sam's "big" hands.

Which was fine because Sam could feel a newfound appreciation forming for Dean's lips. God, they were plush and soft and wrapped around his fingers so perfectly he could almost imagine… Demon in the room! There was a demon in the room who was currently being French kissed by Gabriel.

That was most certainly not fine.

Barely resisting the urge to go caveman on the archangel's ass, Sam disentangled himself unwillingly from the other two and stomped over towards Gabriel and this "Crowley" character.

'A demon? When you said "Relax bitches, I got this" and then looked constipated for a full minute after the witch locked us in here, you were contacting a demon? What the hell Gabriel?'

'But Crowley's a nice demon!' Gabriel declared indignantly while rubbing his cheek against Crowley's face like a cat. 'And a really good kisser!'

Sam would have punched the demon if it wasn't for the fact that Gabriel's statements caused Crowley to growl deep in his throat and push the archangel away from him.

'For the last time you twit, I am not a "nice" demon. I am not a "nice" anything. I swear, I will leave you and your little harem of underwear models to your orgy if you don't start treating me with the respect I deserve. I'm king of the fucking crossroads! I am feared and admired. I am not some angel's errand boy.'

Gabriel's pout would have been much more effective had he not climbed into Dean's lap and begun to rock against his thigh while Dean had his head thrown back in response to the friction and Cas watched them both with rapt interest.

Sam was a little caught up in stopping his body from involuntarily launching itself at Crowley. And not for any violent, jealous or possessive reasons either.

Accent. Lust curse. Irritated sarcastic badassness. Sam was only human.

'Don't be like that! Of course I respect you. I would have smote your ass ages ago if I didn't. This is what we do, remember? Favors, back scratching and mutually beneficial joint-ventures. All done to an ongoing soundtrack of snarking. It works perfectly so why mess with… Dean, if you don't keep moving that hand you're going to lose it… Also, Crowley, I'd like to introduce you to my little brother Castiel, the blue eyed, and dark haired, awkward-virgin looking one. And I assume you've heard of the Winchester brothers. Pretty yes, but models they ain't.'

Crowley's face tightened minutely before he was able to regain control. Although whether it was due to Gabriel revealing their identities or the archangel mumbling "And you are a nice demon!" as an afterthought, Sam didn't know.

He did however know that Gabriel was making out with Dean more enthusiastically than he had any right to. And…

Fuck that!

Before Sam realized what he was doing, he had his tongue in Castiel's mouth and his hands at the fastenings of the angel's pants.

There might have been some "Kiss my angel before I get to? Lets see how you like it!" reasoning going on but he's not sure. Hell, he doesn't even care. Cas is a fast learner.

After that things all got a little fuzzy.

There wasn't anymore kissing but there was touching and mouthing at skin. There was the removal of the outer layers of clothing and, despite his best attempts at denial, Sam's pretty sure he was the one to take off Dean's pants.

Somewhere in the haze and rush of skin against skin Sam can vaguely remember Gabriel moaning out "Anytime you're ready Crowley!" before the demon breathed a long suffering sigh and began chanting something or other in Latin.

And then it was gone. All the urgency and want fell away. Sam was left hard, confused, magically dressed and in desperate need of therapy. He scrambled as far away from Dean as the room would allow.

'I hope you're happy with yourself Darling. I just defused what was possibly the best orgy I've had the chance to witness in almost a century. You owe me! I actually have a few ideas about reparations though. '

'Gabriel, I do not like the way your pet demon is looking at me.'

'Chill Deano! Crowley's a very generous lover… so I've heard.'

'I am not his pet!'

'Dean, I really must stress that you should not feel indebted to this demon for helping us. It is Gabriel who requisitioned his assistance. Your body is now your own again.'

'Thanks Cas, I'll keep that in mind.'

Sam wondered what the likeliness of self-actualized spontaneous combustion was.

Or maybe the floor would swallow him up.

However, that kind of wishful thinking only panned out for people the universe liked.

But, barring any oddly specific and accurate meteor strike, Sam figured his current choice of action would do. That action being curling up on the floor, facing the wall and pretending he didn't exist.

'As fun as all this is, I should be leaving. Things to do. Gabriel, we still on for poker Sunday?'

'Is a frog's ass watertight?'

'Fabulous. Lovely to meet you all. Let's not make it too common an occurrence though huh? Also I think something's wrong with your moose.'

Sam felt the displacement of air that meant to room was now demon free. He also felt three sets of eyes boring into the back of his head.

'Who broke my Sam? Dean, did you put your naughty parts too close to your brother? Didn't you remember what a delicate flower he is?'

'Gabriel, you are not helping the situation. Samuel might be really upset. You should really show more compassion.'

'Sammy? You ok dude? This isn't a big thing. Really. It's like that night in Albuquerque with the Pomeranian, the cheese sandwich and the hair-straightener. It didn't really happen and we never have to speak of it again.'

'Speak for yourself. I plan to bring it up at parties. And supermarket checkout lines.'

'Ignore him Sammy. He knows who controls the holy oil. Don't you worry. We'll wake up tomorrow and this will all seem like a bad dream.'

'Or a wet dream.'

'Would you shut up? Sam doesn't need to listen to your perverted crap right now, Douchenozzle!'

'Would you all shut up? I'm fine, I just needed a moment to resign myself to the fact that this is my life and you people are my friends. It's a horrible reality to come to terms with.'

Sam pushed himself to his feet and strode towards and out the door, ignoring the put out grunts of protest and half-concerned- half-insulted head-tilts.

He assumed they were following. He couldn't quite look anyone in the eye just yet.

'Also I owe you guys the biggest "I told you so" ever. Like I said, what self respecting witch would leave a broomstick and a cauldron on her doorstep so we'd know where she lived? They don't even use them. Was my repeating "This is a trap. This is a TRAP!" too subtle for you all? And if I get stuck having to have the sex-talk with Cas because Dean won't man up and Gabriel would scar Caligula, you idiots are paying for my psychiatrist!'

As Sam ushered the others into the impala and continued his rant, he realized just how at peace he felt. Despite aborted sexual misadventures, unrequited and unadvisable feelings for a certain archangel and a looming apocalypse, everything was ok.

Sam was using his "why am I the only responsible, mature adult in this group?' voice, Dean was looking contrite and unrepentant at the same time, Gabriel was trying to surreptitiously lodge a lollypop in Dean's hair whilst nodding whole heartedly at Sam's words and Castiel looked like a cross between a lost puppy and a first year college student who was sure he should be taking notes but had lost his pen.

All was right with the world. Well, at least as right as anyone called Winchester could expect. And that would do.