Ok, world's longest Author's Note about to take place. Heads up.
Any loyal readers of my "Last Student" will totally recognize the fuck out of this story title. There is zero connection between the two, though. Both have Gabriel in them. Similarities end there. What can I say? I'm not very creative and chapter titles are hard. Plus, Catherine and Heathcliff is TOTALLY how I am interpreting the Sabriel relationship between these two.
Also, in case you didn't fucking notice, this story is rated M for some major Slash, which means that these two men are going to get graphically up in each others' penis area. If you don't like slash... well maybe the Supernatural fan fiction community isn't really the place for you.
Please leave me reviews. Like, please, please leave reviews. You don't have to have an account to post on any of my stories, so please take advantage of my shameless trust in humanity. I work and have school, but at the latest, the next chapter should be up next week. As of right now it will only be a two chap piece. If you have any suggestions or requests, I might entertain the idea of making it longer.
Now, to the Sabriel.
The first time that Gabriel laid eyes on Sam Winchester, he was thoroughly unimpressed.
Really? The apocalypse was going to come down to these two? Heaven and Hell must have been losing their edge because this was just too easy. Throw in a couple of flat tires and a porn virus and the brothers were ready to bite each other's head off. If only Lucifer were already topside, they could have this over and done with already. The end of the world, the war of all wars, and it could all be done before the evening news.
In fact, if Gabriel had been told, at that moment, to pick which man he would end up loving, saving and dying for, hands down it would have been the older one with the sense of humor, not the tightly wound youngest.
But, hey, life is funny like that.
The second time that Gabriel saw the Winchesters was when he was making little Sam Winchester (figuratively speaking, of course) run in frantic circles as his big brother died over and over. A precursor, of course to when Dean would die in a few months time. Well, die for a little while. Gabriel knew that Michael wouldn't leave him to stew down there for long. But, Sam didn't know that. Sam didn't know that when his brother died, truly died, it would be at his hand. Or vice versa. Either way, one was going to be all alone. As Cain killed Abel, one would kill his brother.
Why wasn't it as fun as it should have been? C'mon, how about that time that Dean got crushed by a piano? Brilliant. That was simply brilliant.
But Sam wasn't getting it. Wasn't he supposed to be the smart one of the two? Why was he so stupid when it came to Dean? He knew what was coming. He knew he couldn't stop it. He knew it would just start over, all over again. But he cried every single time. His heart broke, his world ended, he grieved every single time.
"You can't save your brother," said Gabriel, as Sam held him to the chain link fence, hot fury rolling off him in waves, his big hand in Gabriel's chest, "No matter what."
The next day was Wednesday, and Dean got shot in the parking lot. And Sam still didn't give up. Sam still didn't stop pining for his brother. He stopped eating. He stopped talking to his friends. He stopped sleeping. But he never stopped missing Dean.
Something snapped in Sam. Something terrifying, and man, could Gabriel see it. Ruthless, cutthroat, unfeeling, Winchester was Lucifer's vessel, no doubt about it.
Gabriel should have been happy. Finally finally it was almost over.
"Bring him back," whispered Sam, looking down at Gabriel, "Bring us back to that Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Whatever you want. We won't come after you. I promise."
"Sam." Said Gabriel,exasperated" There's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish Cro-Magnon skull of yours. This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain."
"He's my brother." Said Sam, "Please. Just… I'll do anything. Please."
Gabriel rolled his eyes at Sam's inability to comprehend. You couldn't fight destiny. You just couldn't. Brothers die. Brothers die and then they're dead and you just have to fucking let it happen. Why did Sam seem to think he didn't have to play by those rules?
"Anything?" Asked Gabriel with a smirk, "Clearly you don't hear enough prison jokes to know that you don't just make that kind of offer to someone and not expect to suck someone's dick."
"Is that-? Would you bring him back if I?"
Gabriel had been joking, truly, he had. But Sam's eyes lit up so hopefully that it was pathetic. As Sam stopped and thought about what he had just offered his eyes fell unconsciously to Gabriel's crotch which gave a little twitch to the sudden image of Sam on his knees, sucking him as desperately as though his life depended on it. It was seedy and depraved and disgusting, but Gabriel couldn't help but admit that it was also really fucking hot.
Gabriel was more than his vessel, infinitely more, but Sam Winchester was just so big and muscled, because having those eyes, those dimples and being that naturally tall just wasn't enough. He had to be ripped too. He had to be fucking beautiful. Like Lucifer had been.
And Gabriel had never made any allusions to being a decent fellow.
Gabriel lilted his eyebrow at Sam. He wasn't about to say no to a blow job. He still wouldn't bring Dean back, but he could tell Sam that after he shot his load. The little twitch had grown into a half hard on, poking hopefully forward through his pants.
Sam swallowed air and took a long legged step towards him, still looking down at Gabriel's crotch, not at him. He took a final, shuddering breath and dropped to his knees with all the tension of a man diving into an ice cold lake. Nervous hands started fumbling with Gabriel's pants and Sam kept his eyes religiously on his task, even as they glazed over, obviously imagining himself somewhere else.
Perhaps thinking about his brother and all the things he would do for him. Die for him. Kill for him. Suck a cock for him.
All that for a million more Tuesdays of watching Dean die, if only to wake up and repeat the task over again. Even to only have Dean for a few more months until the Hellhounds finally came knocking.
"Ok, stop." Said Gabriel, rolling his eyes as Sam nervously eyed his now free (and hard) member. "If you can't suck it up and swallow a cock like a man, don't even insult me by trying."
"No, I swear, I'm sorry, I'll be better… I've never… Tell me what to do, I'll do it. I'll do whatever you—"
But Gabriel rolled his eyes again and pushed Sam back away from him, a little satisfied that his angel strength made the big man wobble on his knees and finally fall hard on his ass. Gabriel tucked himself back into his pants and for the first time since Sam had dropped to his knees he was looking at Gabriel, really looking at him.
Confused, scared, desperate.
"Just, whatever. You're off the hook." Said Gabriel, turning away from Sam Winchester, "All this stopped being fun months ago anyways."
"Are you sur—"
"Just go, kid. Go spend time with your brother."
Gabriel snapped his fingers before Sam had a chance to respond sending Sam back six months to his brother. Sending him back to his brother that he couldn't save. Back to his brother that he never stopped fighting for.
Sam Winchester would rewrite history, alter Heaven and Hell, fight until his last breath for his family. Gabriel had given up on his. What the fuck made Sam think he was so damn special? That he and his brother were in some sort of exclusive club that didn't have to die or kill or follow destiny, bloody as it was? Sam was just a human.
Why did Sam get to save his brother, when Gabriel was helpless to save his own?
Sam Winchester had been a man obsessed.
Losing Dean was too hard to fathom. He had clutched his brother's dying body but he never woke up. That stupid Asia song never played and Sam had to pack up the car without Dean. He had to drive away without Dean. He had to hunt without him, and fight without him and live without Dean next to him, always standing next to him, no matter what.
It was just too hard to think about.
But what Sam could think about was a cocky thin lipped smirk. Golden brown hair and a smart mouthed demigod. He could think about how good it would feel to stab him, crush skin and rib and heart in a single strike. Just like his father before him, Sam was single minded in his pursuit of it. The thing that took Dean.
Healthy coping mechanisms were not the Winchester way. Violence was.
Sam didn't listen to the silence, deafening now that Dean's music was gone. Sam didn't feel the empty Impala as he drove, now that Dean wasn't banging the steering wheel in beat with whatever song was playing. Whenever Sam got even marginally close to missing Dean, he thought about a golden eyed Trickster and he thought about revenge.
The thoughts started to invade his dreams. They had started out as perfectly ordinary and satisfyingly violent. Sam and Dean followed the Trickster out of the diner and Sam pinned him to the fence.
And this time, in his dream, he hit him. Fists and hands against him, beating the sneering smile bloody. Throwing the Trickster to the ground, shoving, hitting, hurting. Biting to rip and to maim, wild like an animal.
The dreams were easily chalked up to the release of his primal temper. In real life, Sam had to be smart. Sam had to track the thing like a hunter, not a maniac, even if that was all he felt inside.
Then the dreams took a turn.
He was still hitting and hurting. He was still throwing the Trickster against the fence, pulling, shoving, maiming, biting.
Then he was biting lips. Then he was shoving hips against hips. Then, in the fluid, illogical way that dreams are wont to do, he was in the middle of hitting the Trickster when, instead of the alley with Dean, Sam was alone in the dark with the golden eyed and haired monster.
It was the same violent fury, but he was no longer looking down at the Trickster's impossible grin, despite the blood on his lips. Sam was looking down at a man's naked back, watching them joined together. He had a handful of hair in one hand and a warm hip in the other as he fucked him.
Sam didn't dwell on it. He had never had dreams about doing that to a man before. He never had dreams about having sex, albeit violent sex, with a monster. But then, Sam had never had to live without Dean before.
In the grand scheme of all the things that Sam had never done before, gay sex dreams were the least of his worries. Besides, he was still the top. Perhaps it was just a continuation of his primal need for control over the Trickster. He couldn't just beat him. He needed to rape him.
And then Dean was back. The silence was gone, the loneliness was gone. Hunting was no longer solitary and obsessively single minded, but planned and executed as a team, punctuated by "Jerk" and "Bitch." It was right and natural and Sam had returned to his big brother's shotgun.
And the dreams were gone. Mostly.
He and Dean were watching T.V. while they ate their take out Thai food for dinner. A cheap and cheesey local commercial came on; a used car salesman was telling them all about his great selection and crazy low prices. His eyes weren't goldish brown, but the hair was close enough. More than anything, though, it was the cruel little smirk, like he was laughing at a very good joke at the world's expense.
And Sam didn't get a little twitch of arousal, quickly come and gone. Sam got a full salute, tent pitching boner that didn't disappear when the commercial did. Or the one after that. All Sam saw was a knowing grin. A lilting eyebrow looking down at him from where Sam was on his knees.
"Oh, shit," said Sam quickly, pretending to spill his cashew tofu onto his lap. He stood and turned, pantomiming frustration at his stained clothing, his back to Dean. Dean barely bothered to look up at him, still chewing his dinner. He said "klutz" or "spaz" or some kind of monosyllabic epithet about Sam's clumsiness and then returned his full attention to the television.
Sam stepped into the bathroom and leaned against the sink, his relentless need throbbing, almost teasingly in his pants. It was almost like the Trickster was there in his dick, smiling knowingly at his little problem. "Can't get rid of me, can you?" it laughed, "Can't stop thinking of me, can you?"
"Fuck fuck fuck." Sam said quietly to himself. Once Dean had come back, things had returned to normal. Was this some sort of kick back from his six month long obsession with all things Trickster?
Sam turned on the shower and stripped from his clothes as he stepped in. It was a warm shower and Sam thought, abstractly, that this was the first time he consciously felt something down there since Dean had come back. It deserved reward. He was just going to conveniently ignore why it showed up there in the first place.
So Sam forced his thoughts to blonde hair, long legs, small breasts, slender hips. Sam had always preferred an athletic build on a woman. More fast and small like a sports car than Dean who preferred the busty and curvy softness of a luxury ride.
It was working, sort of. He was still hard but he had been pumping for a few minutes to no avail. Sam masturbated so infrequently that he could usually finish himself off in under a minute. Blonde hair turned brown. The woman, small in his arms, grew a few inches, her shoulders broadened, her jaw sharpened. Breasts disappeared and became replaced with a hard on to match his own, pressed into his stomach.
Oh, come on.
Then came the smirk. Laughing at Sam's inability to get off on his old classics.
Fine. Sam could work with that. He reached into the archives of his mind, searching for that dream where he had a handful of hair and a smooth, vulnerable back laid out before him. Pounding, fucking, hurting. Revenge for making him powerless. Revenge for making Sam the butt of the joke. Harder and harder.
Then he was on his knees and the smirk was still there. Eyebrow lilted as a Trickster he looked down at Sam. The body may have been smaller, but the power was unimaginable. Sam was on his knees, at his mercy, servicing him. The dick was in his mouth, salty. He was pumping his head, clutching the Trickster's hips almost possessively as he was worshipping the god.
No thought Sam furiously, but his hand seemed to have other ideas as it sped up. No. This is wrong. Monster, murderer, jerk. He tried to shove the image of the Trickster on his hands and knees back into the forefront of his mind. The Trickster taking his cock. Yielding to his fury.
The Trickster threw his head back as Sam sucked his dick.
Then Sam's mouth was full, he swallowed it down. No thought Sam, That's wrong, it's—
Sam's back arched and his legs locked as he painted the shower floor with his release.
Gabriel walked into the apartment that he had commandeered in Las Vegas. It was in the penthouse of one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, the kind with chandeliers and goose down bedding where there was a full service bar, private Jacuzzi and a breathtaking view of Sin City in all its glory.
Modesty was for mortals.
He paused in the middle of the room.
"Well, if it isn't my least favorite thorn in my side." He said into the dark, "How'd you find me?"
"Got wind of a case. See, some guy who owned a strip club liked to get handsy with his girls and then fire them when they started to complain. Got impaled by a stripper pole. Thought it might be you."
"Ah," said Gabriel, nodding, "Good call. Is little Dean going to come out and make a god-kabab out of me?"
Gabriel looked around the room as Sam walked out of the shadowed doorway leading to the bedroom.
"Where's your stake?" asked Gabriel," Going to whip it out last minute? You know how I like surprises."
"Don't have one, came alone."
"Mighty stupid of you, Sam. Now I get the satisfaction of killing you. Would have liked the set," he said wistfully, "but I was never one to look gift horses in the mouth."
"You brought Dean back."
"Yes. Don't make me reconsider. I can send him straight back to Hell with a snap of my fingers."
"Why did you bring Dean back? Why did you let me go?"
Gabriel rolled his eyes and walked over to the hotel bar. He started making himself a martini with four maraschino cherries.
"Well, if you're going to take your sweet time killing me, do you mind if I make a drink? I've had a very tiring day impaling sexist assholes…via their assholes." Gabriel smirked around the rim of his martini glass.
Sam walked towards him, heavy boots under a heavy man against soft, cashmere rugs. Sam put his shotgun on the dining table and closed the distance between him and Gabriel so that only the bar was between them.
"Are you really going to kill me?" Sam asked him softly.
"Depends." Said Gabriel, taking another drink. "Are you going to kill me?" Gabriel wasn't really scared. The odds of Sam finding out who and what he really was were slim, and even if Sam did somehow peg him as an Archangel, not a demigod, it would be impossible for Sam to know how to kill him. Even more impossible for him to get the Archangel blade that he would need to do so.
Gabriel poked into Sam's head to try and figure out what the hunter's game was. Showing up without back up? Showing up without a stake? Gabriel found… affection? Curiosity? Need? A bunch of emotions balled into one as the tall hunter looked down at him.
"Why are you here?"
"You're not so bad."
"Do not try to presume what I am, Sam Winchester, I'm warning you." Gabriel's voice rang with threat and Sam dropped the subject.
He walked around the bar so that he was hovering over the angel, Gabriel's hair under his nose. Sam's hands tentatively reached out and touched Gabriel's arm.
"I told you, kid, you're off the hook." Said Gabriel, but Sam's hands were growing more insistent, more demanding as they gripped his shoulders. Sam took a broken breath, though completely different from the one he had given a few weeks ago when they first got close to this route. He shoved Gabriel against the bar, pinning his hips against the surface with big possessive paws. Gabriel's voice was calm and level as he spoke again, "Don't start something you don't intend to follow through with here."
Sam dropped to his knees and this time he looked right at Gabriel, angling his head up to see him, small, heart shaped mouth glistening after Sam ran his tongue over his lips. When Gabriel just looked back at him, Sam started unzipping his pants.
"What has gotten into you, kid?" asked Gabriel, watching him, "You just suddenly get a craving for some man on man action?"
"Yes, thanks for reminding me. Gets me hard as a rock."
"I was obsessed with you. Your voice. Your face. Your body. I… recorded every moment that I was with you in a journal. I pasted pictures of you along my motel walls. I thought of you when I showered. I thought of you when I ate. I dreamt of you as I slept. And then you brought Dean back and still I… I dreamt of you. I dreamt of what it would be like to go through with what you offered. The first time I got hard after Dean died I was…thinking of you."
" Ah. So, if you hunted me down, sucked me off you thought you might be able to get over it? Some good old fashioned closure?"
"Something like that," said Sam. As he said the words, his hand disappeared into the angel's pants. Gabriel was already hard. He had thought about the hunter too. Pink lips, big hands hard and unyielding fury as he shoved Gabriel against a chain link fence. And now the hunter, the big mountain of a man was on his knees.
Sam pulled the erect dick out from the pants and started working him with his hand, hesitantly. It was obvious that Sam had never held someone else's cock. Sam looked up into Gabriel's eyes, his own hooded and glassy from lust. Sam's tongue peeked out from between his lips and he ran it along Gabriel's shaft.
Gabriel's breath hitched and Sam locked his eyes back on Gabriel's. Sam repeated the gesture, and followed his tongue's slick trail with his hand, giving the same gentle squeeze at the tip that he liked to do to himself. Gabriel started breathing heavily through his nose as he watched. Sam got ready to slide the whole cock in his mouth when Gabriel suddenly realized what have might gotten into the hunter after all.
Tracking him down was no easy feat. It would take months of research. Gabriel usually came and went from a town before the headlines even reached the papers. Sam was a great hunter, but even a great hunter would drive himself mad trying to pin down Gabriel down. Obsessive wouldn't be enough. Sam would need to be desperate to put himself through that. And what did Gabriel know about Sam and what made him desperate?
"Can't save your brother. I can't stop the Hellhounds or the deal." Gabriel said suddenly.
A little bubble in Sam seemed to burst, but Sam didn't stop or turn away. He looked down and nodded.
"I… I figured you probably couldn't." he said softly, "But… that isn't what this is about."
"Sam, your brother is going to—"
"Can we not talk about Dean?" Sam snapped, "I just want to do this. I want to go back to normal, ok? I can't sleep because I dream of… you. So I studied and I tracked and I killed myself to finally find you. Now… I just want to do this so I can go back to Dean. So I can enjoy my last few months with him without you hanging around in the back of my mind. So let's just not talk about Dean and do this."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel special."
Some of that hot fury flashed in Sam's eyes and he started pumping Gabriel in his hand faster. Without much warning, Sam pulled the dick into his mouth. It was almost stubborn, he was proving that he could do this. That he could control these fantasies, this obsession he seemed to have with Gabriel. Whether he was proving it to himself or to Gabriel was impossible to tell.
Gabriel's knees shook as Sam's tongue ran down the sensitive vein in his cock. Sam moved his head, sucking extra firmly as he reached the tip and making up for any lost distance with his hand so that none of Gabriel's dick was unattended. Gabriel gave a little moan as he got closer and Sam moaned in response. The vibrations were what sent Gabriel over, he locked his hand in Sam's hair and shoved himself all the way down the hunter's throat as he released.
No one used Gabriel, he made sure of that.
Sam gagged at the intrusion of a cock against the tender part of his throat more than at the spewing bitter release in his mouth, but as he looked at Gabriel, he knew he would have to take it. And it seemed to turn Sam on.
Once Gabriel felt Sam swallow him all the way down, he shoved the hunter off his dick so that Sam fell on his ass again.
"Satisfied?" Gabriel sneered.
"Not hardly," said Sam and he stood quickly, a well-trained fighter who knew that to stay on the ground was to die. He stood again, menacing over Gabriel.
Sam shoved Gabriel against the bar again and mashed his lips against his mouth. To say that Gabriel was surprised would be an understatement. Sam clearly had something to prove as he sucked him off. Maybe it was some kind of balance thing, finishing off what they had started at the Mystery Spot.
But a kiss was almost intimate. Even in the tooth-scraping tongue-thrusting violent way that Sam was dishing it out.
"I hate you." Snarled Sam, but his hips were rutting up against Gabriel's anyways, "I want to fuck you, but I hate you."
"Hmmm, fuck me?" sneered Gabriel, but through frantic short breaths as the thought sent some new life into his satisfied dick, "A little ambitious, don't you think? You may be bigger," Gabriel lifted a hand to rest against Sam's chest, over his heart. "But I'm stronger and older and you will kneel before me."
Sam groaned and pushed up against Gabriel harder and faster, his erection was searching for release. Gabriel used the hand on his chest and pushed him away, hard, Sam stumbled backwards to the wall, falling against it. In an instant, Gabriel was holding him there, resuming their kiss with as much violence as before.
"I'm going to need you to beg, little Sammy boy." Gabriel murmured, grinning. Sam's eyes flashed at his intimate nickname and went to shove Gabriel back, but Gabriel stayed strong. Gabriel grinned ruthlessly at Sam's desperation. "I want you to beg me to take care of that-" Gabriel's eyes dropped down. "Not so little problem."
"Aw. Don't you wish?"
"Fine," said Sam, rolling his eyes. The words left his lips stubbornly, like they had to be dredged up from somewhere far away. Sam was raw and vulnerable to Gabriel and he hated it, that anger was etched across every inch of his face. "Please."
"Hmmm…." Said Gabriel. That was a damn tempting offer as well. "Maybe later, big boy."
Gabriel's eyes locked on Sam's, the corners of his mouth pulling up cruelly at Sam's reluctantly visceral reaction. Gabriel's hand found the zipper of his pants, pulling it down deftly and grabbing Sam's dick before Sam knew what hit him. Gabriel put a few millennia's worth of experience and observations to use, making Sam's back arch against his stomach as hot seed spilled into his hand.
Gabriel cleaned it with a thought and stood straight, stepping away from Sam. Sam stumbled a little as Gabriel's heat and hard body left him against the wall. Sam was looking at the floor, avoiding Gabriel's eyes as he zipped his pants.
At first Gabriel felt a smug sort of satisfaction at his power over the hunter. But that satisfaction turned sticky in his gut as he looked at the youngest vessel. For a fleeting instant, Gabriel wanted to kiss him again. Not mean and harsh like they had before, but gentle.
His father save him, he was going soft.
"Are you done?" asked Gabriel coldly, "Have you proved whatever fucked up thing you needed to prove? Can I go back to my maiming and torturing in peace?"
Sam nodded, his eyes still on the floor.
Do not come looking for me again." Said Gabriel. "I will kill you."
He snapped his fingers and sent Sam back home to Dean in whatever hole-in-the wall motel the two had stumbled into.
Gabriel stood in his empty apartment.
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