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Gabriel thought that after Azazel, this would all be over. Sam’s demon blood was long gone and even the entire Dad-damned apocalypse ripped up and thrown away. But he let Sam and Dean go off on another routine hunt and then he couldn’t feel his familiar.
Even when it seemed like Gabriel was going to have to give everything up all over again, he’d still always had Sam’s heartbeat pumping through his ears and echoing through his chest.
The archangel crushed the heavy iron door in an instant and stepped over the pieces left littered across the floor. The bloody sigils carved into the metal had been based on Frigga’s experimental spells and painted with a familiar’s blood. Even if Gabriel had still been hiding from heaven, he doesn’t think he would have been able to stop himself from ripping it apart.
The insides of the basement were scorched with grace, evidence of the blast that had allowed Gabriel to locate the brothers even with the warding.
He followed the slow drum in his chest to the center of the blast. Sam lay crumpled on the floor, surrounded by dead demons with their eyes burnt out. Gabriel shoved past a female vessel with short blond hair, crouching next to his downed familiar. He reached for the taut bond between them, thrumming after being cut off for hours.
His grace leaped at the touch, instinctively connecting and reaching straight for Sam’s soul before he restrained it. Gabriel supposed he should have expected that Sam had been able to hold and harness his power. He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding at finding the familiar magically exhausted from direct contact with pure archangel grace, but otherwise unharmed. Placing a hand on Sam’s cheek, Gabriel pushed a question at him through the bond and asked him to shift into his other form.
In an instant, Sam’s limp body disappeared into a small pile of fluffy black fur. Gabriel carefully lifted the large cat into his arms and hummed quietly at the sensation of content and peace that radiated from the soft bundle.
Gabriel turned and spotted the older Winchester slumped against the far wall. Dean was similarly drained by indirect grace exposure and had a few shallow cuts and bruises.
“Sammy…” Dean murmured as he reached around for a weapon. Gabriel sighed and pulled him by the arm, letting the hunter lean against his smaller form.
“Gabriel?” Dean’s eyes flickered weakly and Gabriel could see awareness slowly returning to him.
“Good to know you’ve still got your wits, given the newest addition to your ever-growing list of hits to the head.” The archangel shifted so Dean could see Sam’s curled-up form. The hunter reached a hand out to pet the dark fur.
“Sam used to shift into this one as a kid. He knew how much I hated cats.” The words came out quiet, further softened by the small smile on Dean’s face.
Gabriel eventually managed to get both brothers out to the front of the house to the Impala. He would have flown, but neither Winchester needed the strain of more grace at the moment.
Additionally, though he’d never admit it out loud, the traveling by car had grown on him. He pushed Dean into the passenger seat as the hunter was drooping from both exhaustion and blood loss. Gabriel settled into the driver’s seat with Sam’s warm weight on his lap. Stroking a hand through the long black fur, he pulled the car back onto the road.
If only his siblings could see him now. Driving a car down an empty road in the Iowa countryside with Heaven and Hell’s two precious vessels.
Gabriel stopped in the first town he saw. The tiny rural town had one main street and one rundown motel. There's a small diner across the way with a surprisingly large selection of salads and even a burger or two. Gabriel figured Dean would be fine in the Impala but was unwilling to put down his familiar. The girl at the front desk of the motel cooed over Sam as she gave him the room keys, clearly more interested in the cat than her job or the archangel in front of her. Gabriel couldn't exactly blame her; Sam made a cute cat.
The walls were covered in tacky shapes, a matching set with the decorative screen in the center of the room. The beds have been upgraded à la archangel, but he hadn’t bothered to actually change the décor. He stitched up Dean’s wounds by hand and cleaned the blood and dirt off both brothers. The older Winchester took the bed further away from the door. Gabriel settled in with Sam on the other.
Sitting in the quiet motel room with the soft light of the sunset streaming in through the window, Gabriel felt the tension finally drain out of his body. He should probably contact Robert Singer and maybe Castiel. The seraph had been one of the contacts he’d blown through searching for the Winchesters. The older hunter would definitely shoot him again if he wasn’t updated.
Sam shifted in his lap and weakly pushed his head into Gabriel’s stomach. A low purr rumbled out of the cat and the archangel felt a warmth bloom in his chest. He didn’t know if the feeling was his or Sam’s, but he buried himself in it all the same. A witch is something that Gabriel has never been, in this life or any other. But if this connection, this familiar, required him to be one, then he’ll gladly take that title.
He had never stopped running since the day his brothers tore his world apart, but Sam had taken the foundation left behind and built it back better. The least he can do is stay.