Pairing: Sam Winchester x Gabriel
Genres: Romance – Fluffy – Humor – Supernatural – Slice of life / One-Shot
Rating: +16
Summary: Thinking that he was protected from the supernatural world by taking on the role of a normal student, Sam had no idea that he would soon be plunged back into it. And even less of himself.
Happy reading!
Corrected by EMSeriff
While Sam had focused his studies on law, he had taken the liberty of adding a few subjects for fun. And art history was one of them.
Contrary to what Brady and the other idiots whose classes he shared had claimed, he hadn’t done it to make himself look good to women, but out of genuine interest.
Since his father had forbidden him to return and metaphorically slammed the door behind him, Sam no longer found himself shuffled all over the country, forced to change schools according to fatherly business. And so, he could do what he wanted, how he wanted.
The price of this freedom was high enough, but giving it up was out of the question. Loneliness didn’t matter.
Through his classes, he had discovered a surprising sensitivity to art in all its forms. Until then, his knowledge of the subject had consisted mainly of the mediocre paintings in the crappy motels where he spent his time and the rare museum excursions he’d been able to attend. Of course, there were also the depictions of demons and other supernatural forces that peppered their research, but he was far from the basic knowledge that an average American possessed.
He did, however, know a thing or two about Dr. Sexy M.D. Did that count?
Fortunately, he hadn’t had to make a fool of himself by expressing his artistic preferences, and he soon found himself transported by the ardour of their teacher, who seemed animated by an all-consuming passion for everything that came remotely close to his department. So much so that Sam had wondered a few times if he wasn’t in the presence of a monster of some kind, aiming to feed off his students. But since he couldn’t find any clues to that effect and the number of students hadn’t changed, he’d given up the idea.
And in contact with this strange madman, he had reviewed every trend in the art world. Some had thrilled him, others yawned, and still others left him confused. What sick mind could have come up with this result?
Even though it was still a subject with notes to take and assignments to hand in, he didn’t feel as constrained as he did in other classes, like a little recreation, a breath of air, before plunging his nose back into his required reading and the twelve thousand assignments due yesterday.
Sometimes, he regretted having chosen law. Then his thoughts would inevitably turn to his father. And his motivation was through the roof.
There’s no way I’m going to give him that pleasure…
Amidst the swarms of paintings, cascades of sculptures, compressions and… weird conceptual stuff, it was easy to get dizzy. And in turn, the students were able to experiment with the famous Stendhal syndrome, or talk about their experiences.
Sam envied them a little, but reasoned with himself that he had only just begun his immersion in this strange world. His turn would come, sooner or later.
In the course of his studies, he had come across works that he had glimpsed in his father’s famous notebook, a phantasmagoria of the supernatural world that he now had to apprehend in a different way.
Was this what art was all about? To destroy everything we knew in order to relearn how to see? Fortunately, his knowledge base was too thin to be a real affront, making the exercise simpler than for others.
That’s what he’d once explained to his group of friends when Rebecca had asked him about their content, discussing the beauty that his uninitiated eyes were discovering with all the innocent candour of a child.
Of course, for those of them who’d grown up in a more stable and « normalised » environment, art reminded them mostly of boring outings and dull lessons with razor-sharp teachers, ill-adjusted projectors and obscure photocopies. They listened with embarrassed smiles as he gradually became more enthusiastic. It was this expression that brought him back down to earth, a little sheepishly.
Teasingly, Jessica had slapped a kiss on her fresh boyfriend’s cheek, then put her arm around him once her heels were back on the ground.
– « If you could have the same verve during case studies, you’d be a real wildcat! »
– « Hey, I’m doing fine, I’ll have you know! »
– « Yes, yes », Jessica tempered.
And indeed, without being valedictorian, Sam was doing just fine.
Despite his rather chaotic lifestyle, he’d managed to maintain a good grade point average, so now that he didn’t have to put up with his father’s moodiness, untimely moves or dreadful motel rooms, it hadn’t taken him long to climb to the top of the rankings.
And the small group of friends were well aware of this and liked to tease him about it.
They weren’t too bad themselves, but there was quite a gap between them. The worst of them was Brady, who had been in one oven after another for several months despite offers of help from all of them, but turned them all down on the pretext that it was just a rough patch. Respecting his decision, they didn’t dwell on it, and let him go, reminding him that if he changed his mind, they’d still be there.
– « Watch out Jess, he’ll end up falling for one of those fictitious chicks and run off with the painting! »
– « Gna gna, you jealous bunch! »
Religion was omnipresent when your life tipped over into the world of the supernatural.
Some discovered faith, no matter what form it took. Others lost it. And still others found themselves in between, uncertain.
Sam didn’t know his father’s opinion on the matter. For Dean, it was obvious, he hadn’t been made aware of them. He regarded them as fairy tales in the same way as those he’d read to him when they were children.
As for him…
He was so young at the time of the tragedy that had destroyed his family… A toddler barely six months old. Dean was barely older, only four. Their father couldn’t carry them everywhere at all times, so he had to entrust them to people passing through, vague acquaintances…
It was with Pastor Jim that Sam had discovered this new world. The adult wasn’t doing this to divert him from John’s dark path, but rather to occupy this little one who had so many questions about the universe around him. And what better answer than the Book of Common Prayer?
So it was at his side that the young boy had taken his first steps into this world of hope and promise, learning the prayers and the names of the protectors.
Looking back, it had been a glimmer in the darkness that surrounded him at all times. When things went wrong, when Dean was annoyed with him, when their father had had a bad day, when they were both off on a complex hunt, Sam clung to the only things he really possessed. His faith, his prayers.
Apart from his sojourns with the pastor, it was virtually impossible for him to cross the threshold of a church or any other sacred site. And any outward sign of religious activity was to be avoided in John’s vicinity, Sam had quickly learned. So he’d developed a few tricks for paying homage to God without getting caught.
Living at the end of the 20th century and having to hide to express his faith…
As he grew older, he clung to it, drawing the hope or strength he needed to move forward. To put up with their father’s temper and strong opinions. His brother, unable to stand up to him and cowardly following in his footsteps.
His Faith was his constancy, his light in the darkness of his life.
So when he became aware of the over-representation of religion, whatever it was, throughout the art world…
He’d felt dizzy and needed to sit down for a few moments. Fortunately, no one had witnessed this and he had been able to resume his feverish contemplation.
In tradition, status was codified. Angels and their wings, saints and their halos, Christ and his crown of thorns…
He had gorged himself on them, spending his spare hours scouring libraries and the Internet for other representations of sacred art.
It was a bit odd, on reflection, especially for a future lawyer, but he catalogued this obsession with all the others he’d had, before, knowing that it would fade away as quickly as it had arrived. And it wasn’t something frivolous, like the time he’d tried to collect as many pogs as possible, it was general culture!
At any rate, that’s how he presented it to his friends when they asked him about it. And, once again, they regretted it, even though he had been less vehement and passionate than when it came to art history.
He knew how religion, and beliefs in general, could be a taboo for some, too sensitive a subject for others. And, above all, Sam had no intention of flaunting his past, which was intrinsically linked to his Anglicanism.
So, even though his friends were now aware of his interest, the subject was no longer broached. At least, not head-on.
For some reason, Sam found himself wandering between the graves of strangers, accompanied by Jessica and Brady. Good thing they were there, because he might think he was back in his old life, stalking the stele that would have to be looted, once again, in order to cover the human remains with a good kilo of salt and gasoline, before setting them on fire.
But not this time. No extra charge to add to his fortunately still virgin pigeonhole.
No, this was a relaxing outing, during which his friends amusedly hassled each other, while he simply held Jessica’s hand and watched them with a touch of amused blame.
He couldn’t help it, he envied them for their joviality, their lightness.
Not that they’d never had a problem or felt pressure! But none of them had ever had to track down living beings or pull the trigger of a gun to save the lives of strangers who had no idea of the danger they were in. Or simply for his brother or father.
This dark thought made him tense up, attracting Jessica’s attention, who gave him a questioning look. He reassured her with a pale smile and she resumed her nonsense, albeit with less enthusiasm.
– « Oh, there she is! » she exclaimed suddenly.
Fortunately, no one else was around on this Thursday afternoon, so her slightly too-loud declaration didn’t earn them any disapproval. On the other hand, the two boys exchanged glances, still not in the know.
On reflection, they really were naive morons, having followed her without asking the slightest question about their direction.
But the young woman gave them no time and, grabbing Brady’s hand, she dragged them both to a funerary statue which, in addition to being superbly detailed, had the particularity… of being covered in lipstick!
Jessica didn’t wait for them to express their surprise and turned, facing them, spreading her arms wide with an equally wide smile.
– « That’s it! »
– « You brought us here for… a pile of rocks? » asked Brady.
She immediately planted her fists on her hips and leaned in, looking falsely evil.
– « First of all, it’s not a « pile of rocks », sir. It’s a superb funerary statue! And just so you know, it’s one of the city’s must-sees! »
She stuck out her tongue at him, before turning to her boyfriend.
– « I know it’s not as prestigious as the Cantor Arts Center, but… I thought that, since you can go there whenever you like, whether it’s via your art history classes or simply whenever you like, it would be original? »
As she went on, her volume diminished and she ended up watching her left foot digging in the dusty earth, her head down.
She lifted it when Sam kissed her forehead, touched by her attention.
– « It’s perfect, don’t worry. »
She jumped at his neck, amused once again at their height difference which allowed her to be suspended a few centimetres off the ground, especially when Sam grabbed her by the hips to relieve the pressure on her neck.
Brady had to cough to remind them of his presence, and thus avoid the usual drooling exchange, especially between two graves as they currently were.
– « Respect for the dead, young people », he squeaked in a poor imitation of their dormitory head.
Having done far worse before, Sam only shrugged as his girlfriend blushed with embarrassment, resting on the floor.
– « So, you wanted to show us this statue to…? No, because if it was to play lovebirds, there was no point in taking me. I like you guys, but I’m not into voyeurism… »
Brady waved his arms, suggesting he take off and leave them alone. Sure, he’d pushed them into each other’s arms, but that didn’t mean he wanted to witness their effusions, thank you very much!
– « Idiot, » Jessica sniffed.
She moved away from Sam and returned to the sculpture, resuming her earlier pose and putting invisible glasses back on her nose.
– « Did you know? This statue has a legend that has lasted for centuries! »
Far from sharing her enthusiasm, Sam and Brady raised an eyebrow at this statement, forcing her to correct herself.
– « Well, okay, maybe not centuries, but decades, at least! And I’m not lying! »
She didn’t convince them any further, but at least they were kind enough not to cut her off and look interested.
– « According to legend, if you kiss it, you could meet your soulmate! Isn’t that sweet? »
A slightly amused smile tugged at Sam’s lips. If anyone was adorable here, it was Jessica and her enthusiasm.
He looked a little more closely at the subject of belief and noticed that the grey stone was indeed covered with lipstick prints. There were so many shades that the statue could be mistaken for a perfume display! But there must have been someone coming in from time to time to clean it up, because each « kiss » seemed rather fresh.
– « So that’s why you called us here? To masterfully ditch poor Sam and introduce him to his replacement? » Brady’s tone was mocking, but there was a hint of underlying menace. In his eyes, it wasn’t impossible that it was true, in fact, Jess immediately flushed, roaring with anger.
– « No, I don’t! Who do you think I am? »
Sam let them have their spat, thoughtfully.
He had walked around his girlfriend to get closer to the round sculpture, observing it in more detail.
The grey stone had a few rough edges, but was intact overall. Weather and time had softened the features without blurring them.
It was a representation of an angel with open wings and a double halo, dressed in a short toga sliding sensuously from one shoulder. A twisted branch adorned with three flowers of pointed petals was held in the hand resting on their covered thigh. But what really caught his eye was the face tilted towards the one who would stand in front, in a movement of compassion and invitation.
By association of ideas, Sam remembered the Geef brothers’ statues, the Angel of Evil and the Genius of Evil, both depicting Lucifer in an unsettling way, so seductive that he would have aroused the emotions of young parishioners.
But that wasn’t the case here, was it?
He was squinting at the traces of make-up when Brady came to stand beside him, while Jessica grabbed his arm on the other side, squeezing him hard enough to make him wince.
– « Are you done, kids? » he laughed lightly.
– « Don’t help, » grumbled his neighbour.
The young woman, for her part, simply stuck her tongue out at them before snuggling up to her boyfriend.
– « So, apart from ogling the angel Gabriel, what was the planned activity? » yawned Brady. He rubbed the tears that had reflexively sprung to his eyes with both fists.
It wasn’t particularly early, but the student hadn’t been sleeping well for a few months so, to be dragged out of the dormitory to crawl into a place as cheerful as an empty cemetery… Still, it would be dark, they’d light candles, it would make a great atmosphere! But no, they were shivering in the cool mid-November wind, staring at a guy barely dressed and smeared with desperate chicks’ lipstick.
– « How do you know it’s him? » asked Jessica, surprised.
– « The lilies, » he indicated with his chin. That’s his symbol.
– « It’s also the Virgin Mary’s, Jesus »… listed Sam.
– « Shut up, Wikipedia, » he growled.
Absolutely unaffected, he simply shrugged.
– « It’s strange, I wouldn’t have expected it to be this particular angel to whom this legend is attributed… » Jessica enunciated thoughtfully. « Oh, I forgot! It’s in two parts: if you kiss it, you might meet your soulmate, but! If you kiss it « like a lover », the statue will wake up and live with you forever. Or, grateful for your feelings towards it and its liberation, it will grant you a wish. Both versions coexist. »
A contemplative silence took its place as they scanned the funerary statue again.
– « This guy’s been kissed all over, » sniffed Brady. « And he’s still here. This is bullshit. »
– « Shut up, » Jessica grumbled. « It’s just a legend. A fairy tale. And it’s kind of cute, no need to smear it with horrible reality! »
Caught between the two, Sam turned his head towards his girlfriend.
– « Do you believe it? »
– « No, not particularly. But if these stories were created, it’s because people need to believe in something, isn’t it? It’s the very basis of religion, after all. And maybe there’s a basis in reality, that soul mates really did meet after one of them kissed the statue. »
– « Yippee, a necrophiliac, » chuckled Brady. « A totally deranged guy wanders into a cemetery, sees a chick kissing a stone angel and decides they’re both as nuts as each other. They married and had many inbreds. »
In spite of himself, Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing back. It’s true that there weren’t many people hanging around cemeteries. It was mostly employees, mourners and weirdos. And hunters. But they could also fall into the previous three categories.
Struggling to hide his smile, he returned to observing the angel.
– « Afterwards, Brady’s right, » he declared, cutting off his friends’ new argument. « I’m sure he’s been kissed every which way. »
Losing himself in his contemplation, he began to bite his lips, a tic he’d developed when hesitating to share the substance of his thoughts, as if to hold back any words that might pass the barrier of his lips.
He did this often enough that Jessica and Brady noticed, as did the rest of their friends, so they encouraged him to continue, curious.
– « No, nothing, it’s just… He was kissed like one would kiss a human. Maybe that’s the difference… »
After years of differentiating between humans and supernatural creatures, he was unable to tell the difference. Even now, his brain was starting to think through all the possible options, as if he were preparing for a hunt.
– « Why would an angel appreciate a human’s feelings? Or, worse, grant a wish?! » sniffed Brady again. « Besides, how are you supposed to kiss an angel? »
An unexpected anger seemed to bubble up inside him, which surprised the other two. The future lawyer had never been so close to losing control of his emotions as he was right now.
– « How would you kiss an angel? » repeated Jessica. She let go of Sam’s arm, rubbing her chin. « That’s a question I’d never thought of. »
– « Neither have I, » spat Brady.
For his part, Sam wisely kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t thought about it either, but he’d had his share of crushes and romances with non-humans. Putting aside the potential for blasphemy, an angel for a love interest wasn’t such a big deal. That is, if it took on a vaguely humanoid appearance, like those immortalised by artists. Sex aside, it still made interactions much easier.
Once again, it was Jessica who drew him out of his thoughts.
– « And what about you? »
– « Me what? »
– « Earth to Sam, » laughs Brady. « Your wonderful darling wants to know how you’d go about not « kissing like a human » the feathered one! »
The elbow Jessica nudged him with seemed to empty his lungs of air as he folded with a muffled sound.
She had a way with words… when it came to attracting attention.
– « That’s as far as I thought, » Sam laughed. « Just that… according to some beliefs, angels are immaterial, or with constitutions far removed from human biology. So, maybe… they also have a different way of showing affection? After all, it’s obvious in the animal kingdom, so on the celestial plane… It wouldn’t be surprising, would it? »
Another silence greeted his words. He could see a certain understanding in their eyes. Then Brady wrinkled his nose in disgust.- « Yuck, I just pictured you frenching that other chicken! Quick, bleach, lye, anything! »
He began to zigzag between the tombstones, waving his arms and squealing in disgust as his friends laughed and teased him, ignoring the outraged looks of the few passers-by, the funerary statue and its legend relegated to the back of their minds.
Sam didn’t have a « pretty » awakening: he went from almost total immobility to sudden anarchic agitation, tearing the covers off his still sleeping body, tossing and turning, limbs going off in random directions. This was followed by grimaces stretching his face, and only then did he open his eyes.
Once the light level was acceptable, he would sit up, yawning widely and rubbing his hair energetically. Sometimes he would rub his eyes to perfect his routine. And only then would he consider himself ready for the day ahead. Or the night. Or the afternoon.
In short, for the hours to come between now and his next night.
Getting out of bed was a spectacle in itself.
He was as comfortable on his legs as Bambi after he was born, as if he’d had trouble keeping his balance after spending some time lying down.
So he staggered across the room he was in. Dingy motel room. Narrow bunker room. Outside after sleeping in the Impala. No matter where it was, his ritual made little difference.
The best thing was to let him wake up slowly under the shower spray, where he would be comatose for a few more minutes, often slumped against one of the shower walls, before waking up fully. Then he’d get ready and that was it, he could drown the last bits of fatigue in a mug of coffee so deep that « tankard » would be a more apt term.
Since Dean had snatched him from his student routine, he’d returned to his old routine, albeit one that now included just the two of them, no longer supervised by their father.
As he puffed on the hot drink, he scoured their meagre food supply for anything that might constitute his breakfast, that wasn’t stale or so stuffed with sugar that it would turn a child into a bouncing ball. That done, he’d settle down at what might serve as a table and fire up his laptop, surfing the net either to gather more information on the current hunt, or to skim the local and general news in search of a new case.
It had been a long time since waking up had the slightest flavour, since his feelings seemed almost anaesthetised no matter what the situation. It was only at the most dangerous moments, when they came close to death or sustained serious injuries, that he felt a bit of adrenalin and had the impression of getting his head above water.
But in general, he let himself be carried along more by events than anything else.
When, that evening, Dean had burst into his apartment and his life in general, he’d had the faint hope of being able to return to his life as a future lawyer after dispatching the search for their damn father, but the flames had engulfed everything, down to the last spark of hope, with Jessica’s corpse.
They had broken up a few months after their expedition to the cemetery, but had remained good friends in spite of it. Studies had chewed them up, like so many others around them, and perhaps they could have tried again once the lull had returned. But there was no time.
It was these dark thoughts that kept him company as he went about his business. Well, he’d nearly drowned in the shower and spilled his coffee all over himself, but that wasn’t so bad, was it?
Depressing thoughts had become commonplace for him as the years went by. He’d learned to deal with them, to get past them, to live with them. In any case, he couldn’t really count on Dean or any kind of psychological help, so the best thing was to go about things as usual. Which didn’t mean getting hit in the face by a closet door, but that’s what happened when you didn’t pay enough attention to your surroundings…
The laughter he got in response made him smile in spite of himself.
– « Well then, have you left your eyes on the bedside table? » teased Gabriel.
– « Shut up, » he mumbled rhetorically.
He dropped into an empty chair, deciding that it was safer to wait for the caffeine to take effect before continuing with his day. And perhaps apply some ice to the bruise forming on his face…
– « Take that, love face! »
The ‘thank you’ was lost in the comfortable sigh as Sam applied the cold compress to the bruise.
– « We pride ourselves on Lucifer, hordes of demons, Leviathans, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse… Who’d have thought closet doors would be Sam Winchester’s weakness? »
The archangel really was a bloody drama queen.
– « Too bad you don’t come with a mute button… » he huffed.
– « Note that I’m not forbidding you to come and get it one more time~ »
For all reaction, he got a perfect bitchface perfected by the hunter.
– « No sense of humour… »
It wasn’t long before Sam was occupying his few free hours, no longer gobbling up as much art as he could, but scouring the available libraries and the internet from top to bottom.
Ironically, he realised that he had immersed himself in his former life. The one where he sifted through every layer of the web for the sake of one more hunt. One more case. One more victim.
Where what should be fiction was reality. Where monsters lurking under children’s beds were under his. The one where the ghosts haunting the spirits of the demented were writhing under bullets of iron and coarse salt.
Around the world, many people dreamed of incarnating themselves in works of fiction. Books, movies, comics… His daily life was that of legends and tales. Myths.
Occasionally, he found himself taking some time out to clear his head, ending up on stupid blogs that were far too pink for his retinas to use, and reading slogans about the stupid romantic ideas one might have during puberty.
It tended to make him cynical, but it was good for his neurons, between two law books and six paranormal sites.
And, of course, this new obsession didn’t go unnoticed.
If his artistic whim had made him exalted, this one expressed itself in complete reverse, undermining his morale and making him quiet.
It wasn’t for fear of being taken for a fool or mocked, it was simply his second nature. This research was putting him back into a skin he thought he’d abandoned before getting on that bus to California.
His marks slipped a little, but not enough to alert anyone, his friends or the teachers. He fell two places in the league table but was still in the top half. And none of this alerted him or convinced him to stop this nonsense.
It wasn’t as if someone had challenged him or that there was a prize to be won. This was purely self-satisfaction, not to gain a favour from a celestial being or to tie him to him, but merely to prove to his father that he was perfectly capable of managing a hunt on his own. Without help. And peacefully.
When he had reached this conclusion, on yet another sleepless night, a shiver ran through him from head to toe. What was he doing? Was he losing his footing, for some obscure reason?
He was finally creating his own future, laying the foundations for the normal life to which he aspired, against John’s advice, against Dean’s advice.
And now he was jeopardising his goal to return to his hunting ways?
How many times had his brother lectured him on his tendency to go straight ahead without a backward glance? The three of them were extremely stubborn and tended to follow their instincts more than reason, albeit at different levels. Most of the time, Sam was the calmest, the most strategic. But the second he forgot himself, he was the most impulsive and the most likely to make stupid, suicidal decisions.
After all, what proof was there that there was really an angel underneath that layer of stone? It was probably more of a Djinn, if the wish part was true, or even a demon! And that’s not counting all the creatures he’d never met or didn’t know about, who could be behind this legend.
The best thing to do would be to find the person behind the rumour, but that was a long shot. Not only was the first testimony almost a century old – Jessica hadn’t lied about it – but above all, it was typically the kind of insubstantial gossip that was spread throughout society. It was impossible to trace the source without going completely mad.
On several occasions, he had stopped, whether during his lessons, his homework or his frantic research, to ask himself why he was continuing. What was it that drove him to put on his hunting boots when he loathed anything remotely related to this world?
In the end, the lack of an answer was more terrifying than the question itself…
His friends had complained that they didn’t see much of him after a while, but the approach of midterms prompted them to follow suit, and soon the only words they spoke to each other were about their studies.
Sam had abandoned his research once he had accepted the painful truth: he didn’t have enough clues to determine what lay behind the legend.
No doubt the anecdote would have found its way into some obscure corner of his memory as he concentrated on revision and exams, but the Winchesters seemed to have vexed Fate years before.
And that was no doubt why he found himself late at night, his mind clouded by alcohol and clinging as best he could to one of the corners of the base supporting the famous funerary statue.
What the hell was he doing in a cemetery? Who knows, he couldn’t even remember where he’d been an hour before. No doubt his exhausted neurons had judged that he would be more comfortable in a place as familiar as his own dormitory. Sometimes it was better not to try and understand…
Definitely unable to keep his balance, the student slumped to the cold ground with a slight complaint. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep or he’d join the friendly tenants in the corner! So, to ward off the snatches of sleep as much as the intoxication, he focused his blurred gaze on the stone profile.
Since his last visit, the lipstick marks had changed, proving that the housework had been done, but above all that there were still people who believed in it.
And why wear lip make-up? Was the rumour only meant to target women, or at least people who wore make-up? Was it necessary to leave a trace of one’s passage to make the wish come true?
For a moment, the idea of stealing Jessica’s lipstick crossed his mind and made him giggle stupidly. Then he remembered that she had decided to break off shortly before the revision frenzy and he swallowed hard. He was in such a state that he felt the tears building up, some even sliding down his face.
He let them, it wasn’t as if anyone could see him anyway. And if they didn’t, his presence in a cemetery in a more than obvious state of inebriation would be more likely to be blamed on him than a moment’s weakness.
With unsure movements and grunts of effort, Sam got to his feet, clinging to the huge funerary statue for balance and, when he realised that it was hopeless, remained entwined, staring at the unchanging expression, the tears continuing to fall without his paying any attention.
– « She broke up with me, » he whispered. « My first normal relationship with a mere human, a girl who wasn’t a supernatural creature or lasted more than three days, and she broke up with me. I thought she was the woman of my life, I was already thinking about marriage, children… the future, you know? And then she broke up with me. »
Sam was a sad drinker. It was one of the reasons why he stayed away from liquor and other spirits, unlike his brother who downed beers like water.
This admission reminded him of the ephemeral relationships that had marked his short life.
Call him a softie, but he couldn’t help believing in love, that somewhere out there in the world was his heart’s sweetheart.
And so it was, entangled in the treacle of his drunkenness and grief, that he kissed the statue’s cheek for the first time.
Waking up was less of a pleasure, especially when Sam realised he was in a drunk tank. And he was far from the only occupant, judging by the number of guttural grunts that were uttered as he sat up, his whole body protesting loudly in response.
– « Brady? » he called when he recognised his friend further along.
The student, barely fresher than the others, merely nodded slightly but kept his eyes and mouth resolutely shut.
This was the only attempt at socialisation and the bunch of ex-drunks were soon released to the mockery of the law enforcement officials as they stumbled valiantly towards the exit and an overly bright sun.
And so, arm in arm, the two companions made their way back to their dormitory in the most pensive silence they had ever shared.
Until Sam decided to break it.
– « Say… »
They both winced, but it took more than that to overcome his tenacity.
– « I think… I went back to the statue last night… » he admitted.
Brady glanced at him, squinting to dim his eyelids.
– « I think I kissed him, » he breathed as he gradually realised.
A mocking grimace contorted his friend’s features.
– « I’m warning you, just because we were in the same cell doesn’t mean I’m your soulmate, » Brady laughed. « Try to kiss me and I’ll throw up in your mouth. »
The image made Sam retch, and all he could manage was an already empty stomach.
Falsely offended, the other student pulled his hair.
– « Hey, I’m not that ugly! And I’ll even let you know that I’m successful! Just yesterday… »
He chatted about his possible conquests the rest of the way and Sam was quite happy to abandon him in favour of his room, as he dropped onto his poor bed, which complained with a creak.
As time passed, memories came back to him, choppy and achronological, giving him a rough idea of how the evening had gone.
And, quite clearly, he had kissed the statue.
And shit.
His end-of-the-world sigh was muffled in his pillow.
– « Move over. You’re in the way. »
– « No, no, » teased Gabriel. « Nobody gets through without my permission! »
The boxes in his arms were heavier with each passing second and already he could feel his muscles creaking with pain, sufficiently strained by the previous day’s gruelling hunt. The urge to drop his load on his feet crossed his mind.
– « And what do I have to do to get you to agree? » sighed Sam.
At once, his whisky eyes sparkled with mischief, before he turned his head and turned his cheek.
– « You have to pay the tax! »
Amused despite the situation, the hunter managed to lean over and press his lips against the designated cheek.
– « And now, can I pass? » he breathed, smiling.
– « That was only the first instalment! »
Significantly less seduced, he decided to give free rein to his previous impulse, letting go of his load.
– « DAMN IT SAM, MY FEET! »
A month passed before he returned to the sculpture.
Temperatures had dropped again since the last time, so Sam had covered himself in every possible layer and presented a rather comical appearance. But as he wasn’t the only one concerned and it wasn’t the first time in his life, he didn’t really care.
The exams had brainwashed him and he’d gone back to his studies, his exaltation for art still present but less vibrant, and apart from that night of drinking, he’d ended up forgetting his research on the statue. Until he tidied up his room a bit and came back to the notes he’d made.
The steam left his mouth with each exhale as he stared at the bare skin. There were fewer traces of lipstick; the temperatures must have discouraged some of them.
– « Still here, eh? Hasn’t anyone found the secret to freeing you, or do you just not feel like it? »
The roundel didn’t move, its mischievous smile never wavering for a moment.
Feeling a bit foolish standing there, addressing a block of stone, Sam approached the monument, thoughtful.
– « »Kiss you like a lover »? There are as many possibilities as there are humans on Earth. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to find the solution. And once you were free, what would happen? Would you steal the soul of the person who set you free? Would you enslave him? Take over the world? »
Many legends and tales served as a warning. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The mist left his lips in a thick cloud before vanishing. He followed it with his eyes, then returned to the angel. The archangel.
Standing on tiptoe, he leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, half-covered by a lock of hair.
As he stepped back, he watched the sculpture carefully, looking for the slightest evidence of an attack or the completion of some kind of curse.
But there was nothing.
Just a cold wind ruffling his hair. And an archangel who clearly didn’t give a damn about him.
It was time to go home.
– « Don’t do that. »
– « I didn’t do anything, » protested Gabriel.
– « You’re taking up all the space. »
– « Oh no, that’s your role, Mr Giant! »
– « You’re half my size and you take up two thirds of the bed. You’re like a cat, in fact, » growled Sam.
– « And you’re moaning. You’re a grandpa, » he replied.
Exhausted by the long day, he gave up and pulled on the duvet, getting ready for bed. But he wasn’t of two minds, and soon found himself with that famous cat half slumped over him.
– « I stand corrected, you’re a Nightmare. The creature, to be precise. »
– « Compliments, I love it~ »
– « Go to sleep, » concluded Sam in a tone that brooked no snubs.
He slapped a kiss on her forehead to encourage her, then turned over, yawning loudly.
The arrival of Christmas had been even more painful than Thanksgiving. They didn’t celebrate either, unless their father invited them to Bobby’s or some other acquaintance’s, who did.
But a holiday meant a departure. Soon all that was left of the little group of friends were Brady and Sam. The former had warned him that he had no intention of revising, studying or anything to do with their studies, but of having fun.
Sam could have imitated him, after all he had invited him, but he felt too dark and alone to be contaminated by the festive spirit.
He couldn’t help it. Christmas used to be a family celebration, an opportunity for distant relatives to get together, not necessarily to exchange gifts.
Their father was often absent or too busy getting drunk to pay them any attention, while Dean tried to make some exceptional dishes out of their meagre resources and they exchanged odds and ends as presents.
A slightly wild thought brought a smile back to his face for a few seconds. Despite his complicated situation, his brother was still wearing the necklace he had given him when he was eight. It wasn’t much, but for him, it was the greatest declaration of affection there was.
Was that why he found himself, once again, in this cemetery?
Of course, Christmas was a celebration for the living, no one was going to brave the weather to pay their respects, so Sam didn’t have to worry about being caught there, gazing once more at that motionless, mute angel.
– « It’s Christmas. It’s a bit of a celebration for you, isn’t it? After all, if you really are the angel Gabriel, it was you who announced Mary’s destiny. »
The snow had covered every surface, muffling the little sound that was already audible and making the archangel put on a strange fluffy outfit. Time seemed to stand still as he took another look at the gentle expression that its author had chosen to freeze for eternity.
– « Thanks, then? Well, I suppose… »
Caught by a new impulse, he stepped forward and slipped a gloved hand into the one holding the lilies, struggling in the little space available, then gently kissed the stone phalanges.
– « Samuel Winchester, would you do me the honour of sharing this dance? »
Wherever he looked, everything was glittering, sparkling, nothing was missing. Rivers of drinks and avalanches of food were scooped up by guests, while others swirled around the dance floor.
– « I can’t dance. And you know that perfectly well. »
– I didn’t ask you to dance, Gigantor, I asked you to share a dance, » Gabriel nuanced.
– « So what’s the difference, Oh great master of words? »
– « Just look pretty, I’ll take care of the business end. »
Sam didn’t have time to object when he had already grabbed his hand and was pulling him after him, splitting the crowd like a mini Titanic.
As always when confronted with these burlesque initiatives, he couldn’t help but laugh softly, and even more so when they faced each other, him having to unscrew the back of his neck to look at him and him plunging his shifting gaze into the buttons of his shirt.
– « We’re ridiculous, » he laughed.
– « We’re sensational, you mean! » he corrected him. « And wait until we dazzle them with our sick dance moves! »
He couldn’t help it and had to bend down to hide his laughter in the brown locks as they began to move to the rhythm of the laconic song.
Sam couldn’t pretend otherwise, the moment was great fun and he only stepped on his toes a little. When the last note evaporated, he found himself with his heart pounding and his zygomatic arches aching from having smiled so much, transported as much by the guiding arms as by these few minutes stolen from time.
– What did you think? I was right, you see! » his partner strutted.
Of course, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than two seconds and had to parade around like a cock, breaking the preciousness of the moment without the slightest embarrassment. But this time, Sam didn’t feel like raising his voice, pinching his ear or nose, grumbling or even turning his back on him and pretending to ignore him.
Instead, he grabbed his hand from his and brought it to his lips as he awkwardly imitated one of the curtsies he’d seen since the beginning of the reception, performing a clumsy hand kiss.
It was with undisguised satisfaction that he straightened up and watched his blush so violently that he could have seen his halo glow just as brightly.
Deciding to continue playing with him, he leaned over again, this time to his ear.
– « Two can play this game. »
And he planted him there, wanting to explore this famous decadent buffet, very pleased with himself.
– « I’ve created a monster, » yelped Gabriel, recovering from the shock.
Before his break-up with Jessica, Sam had already felt alone many times. When he was too small to understand, when he didn’t yet know how to deal with them constantly changing schools, when Dean became old enough to go hunting with their father, when he argued with his family…
But since he had made friends, since he had allowed himself to be who he really wanted to be, without having to pay attention to what he said, how he behaved, being able to make plans for a possible future because he was going to stay here, taking part in such normal, banal and boring activities that made up the daily life of a student, he had felt like he was part of a whole, that all that icy loneliness was just a bad memory.
Of course, there were days with and days without, morale wasn’t always at its best and he had health or money worries, unbearable teachers and great difficulty keeping up.
But he had friends. He had a normal, human girlfriend.
It wasn’t that their separation had been brutal or even spectacular, no. They had spoken to each other as if they were two people. They had spoken like two adults, without raising their voices, and then announced it to the group. They were the ones who acted strangely around them, as if they expected them to go at each other’s throats like two street cats.
So Sam had preferred to isolate himself from time to time, as much to allow them to get to know each other as to get to know each other.
At times like this, he would think about everything a little, the urge to call his eldest brother to vent his spleen nagging at him all the time, but he would push it away. And, inevitably, he would think back to what had been his daily life at the time. And that was the angel.
Since Christmas, he had returned to it on New Year’s Eve, once again quite drunk after having escaped Brady’s somewhat lax supervision. His balance had been even more precarious than after the exams and his kiss had failed on his chin. And given the layer of lipstick still covering the stone mouth, that was probably the most hygienic choice.
And here he was again, on Valentine’s Day.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to find someone else, of course, pushed by Brady as well as Becky, but it was too soon and he clearly didn’t have time for a new relationship. Maybe once he’d really grieved?
– « Aren’t you supposed to allow soulmates to meet? What are you doing on your own? »
This time there was no sign of a kiss. But that didn’t mean anything, maybe the statue had been cleaned not long before and he’d arrived before the procession…
– « I don’t really know what I’m doing here, to tell you the truth. And even less why I’m talking to you when you clearly can’t answer me. »
Strangely, his thoughts took him back to Sully, the imaginary friend he had created for himself when loneliness had weighed too heavily on his shoulders. He’d talked to him a lot too, even though he knew that from an outsider’s point of view, he was all alone.
But the emotions surrounding this funerary statue were nothing like those he had felt for Sully. He hadn’t put his finger on it yet, but he was sure of it.
Raising his hand to place it at the angle of his neck, he lifted himself slightly and gently kissed those unchanging lips before stepping back, a little embarrassed.
– « Don’t imagine anything, it’s just the mood of the day. »
He clearly fled, not daring to take a last look around, uninterested in knowing whether he had unleashed a curse on Stanford or whether he had been no more successful than the others in freeing him from his petrification.
– « Come on, Sam! It’s Valentine’s Day! You could make an effort! » begged Gabriel.
– « You told me yourself it was a stupid holiday in honour of a real asshole. Don’t you feel like you’re contradicting yourself? »
– « I haven’t changed my mind: if the Romans hadn’t taken care of him, I would have! But that’s just an excuse invented by mortals to coo and feel good! Now, come on… »
– « Puppy eyes don’t work on me, » warned Sam.
Despite his declaration, he felt his will weaken. And no doubt he wasn’t the only one. When he gave up with a loud sigh, he found himself with his arms full and clearly off balance.
– Stop doing that! One of these days we’re going to get caught out and it won’t be half as much fun! » growled the hunter.
– « Pff! A snap of my fingers and you’ll be as good as new! » he boasted.
The argument clearly didn’t convince Sam, who stared at him without blinking until he grimaced in repentance.
– « I prefer that. »
He rested his load on the floor and stretched his aching back, getting a satisfying crack.
– « You’re getting old~ »
– « Was that it? No, that was just the weight of your bullshit. »
Sulking this time, he turned his back to him, arms crossed and pouting.
Clearly mocking him at his expense, Sam embraced him from behind, placing a kiss in his hair.
– « Hey, no! That’s not where I want your lips! » complained Gabriel.
Giggling again, he managed to bend backwards, his eyes shining with mischief as he stuck out his tongue at him.
– « There, that’s better. »
But Sam wasn’t going to let him win so easily, and while he did lean forward, it was on his chin that the kiss was placed. He didn’t give him time to complain as he immediately sealed their lips before pulling back, his own eyes gleaming with mischief.
– « You… » he grumbled. « I’m starting to have a bad influence on you… »
– « As if I’d waited until I got to know you to play such dirty tricks, » sighed Sam, rolling his eyes.
– « Yeah, yeah. Come over here and apply yourself this time… »
– « As you wish, Your Majesty. »
The kiss they shared was far less chaste.
Time passed and the student routine returned. It was all about lessons, revision and homework.
Of course, it took more than that to prevent the young adults from partying or simply having fun, but the difference with the first few months was clearly noticeable.
Complaints were commonplace and coffee had replaced blood for most of them.
Including Sam’s.
He’d bitten off more than he could chew when choosing his options, but he had every intention of not showing the slightest weakness to anyone, reducing his sleep and cutting back on meals.
His recreation breaks dwindled to a trickle but his grades were higher than ever, reassuring him of his decision. He was building the foundations of his future, and that was worth every sacrifice!
As a result, it was only a few days before the summer holidays that the mysterious statue came back to his mind.
He’d thought about it from time to time, but there was always something else to do, something else to say, somewhere else to go, so he’d pushed it to the back of his mind.
For the moment, he had to find a job for this summer to have some savings aside, so it wasn’t the right time…
And yet, he found himself facing it shortly afterwards, unable to remember the journey.
Was it exhaustion or had he fallen victim to a spell?
On his guard, he scanned his surroundings warily. The only weapon on him was a pen, which he intended to give back to Jessica, so he was feeling pretty naked.
Once he’d been reassured that nobody seemed to want to jump him, his attention returned to the peaceful face with its marbled features.
Admiring it in the warm light of the declining sun gave it a different atmosphere.
Cold temperatures gave an impression of intimacy, but also of purity, sacredness and solemnity.
But here, the sun seemed to caress the stone, warming it and playing with the contours, making the archangel seem more human, more alive.
It was as if, beneath the shell of stone, there was a being longing to feel the air on his skin again. And the warmth of pure love.
Realising where his thoughts were going, Sam blushed and immediately took his head in his hands, praying that no one had caught him in this oh-so-embarrassing situation.
What a blasphemous thought, he thought.
But, after all, hadn’t his behaviour since the first one been just as blasphemous? Wasn’t daring to attempt a more… sensual rapprochement?
No matter how much Sam racked his brains, he found himself unable to decide. And contacting Pastor Jim or any other man of the cloth to consult him was out of the question. With or without a context, he risked ending up in a psychiatric asylum.
Deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed that he’d come closer to the object of his torment.
He’d had a few more growth spurts since arriving in California, and now he was up to the drape of the toga, without having to force himself.
It was perhaps this revelation that prompted him to kiss that uncovered shoulder, like others before him, but then the situation struck him and he stepped back, blushing again.
He hadn’t done it to check out the legend this time. And come to think of it, that hadn’t been the case for a few kisses now. But this time, it had clearly been more obvious.
For a few seconds, Sam had considered the angel with the closed eyes as a lover. He’d kissed him the way he’d kissed Jess when they were together, on lazy mornings when they’d slowly wake up in the same bed.
The memory gripped his heart, especially when the rest of the procession followed, the happy memories of their short relationship invading his tormented memory one after the other, plunging him into grief.
As if blinded, he threw his hands forward, holding on tightly to the base like a buoy in stormy seas. Eventually, he found the frozen hand, gripping it tightly with his own, using it to keep himself grounded in reality as he finally allowed himself to express his pain, his loss and all the loneliness he had felt for… oh God, for so long…
– « Darling, please, I’m trying to read. »
– « And I find it quite admirable. »
It took more than that to discourage Gabriel, so he continued what he was doing: styling Sam’s hair in the most ridiculous way possible. And it didn’t matter if the hunter wasn’t more willing than respectful of his painstaking efforts.
Hey, try doing an African braid with hair that is thin and far too short!
Just to get back at him, he was going to do the same to that ridiculous beard.
Technically, all the former pagan god had to do to relieve himself of the tedious task of styling was snap his fingers, but if there was one secret he wouldn’t admit to, it was how much he loved touching Sam’s hair. Whether it was simply combing it back with his fingers, pushing back a crazy curl, smoothing out the spikes from the alarm clock, clutching at it during more… eventful moments.
Concentrating on his mission to the exclusion of all else, he missed the tender smile on his face and only came out of it at the unmistakable sound of a kiss. The fleeting sensation on the bare skin of his shoulder began to fade before he fully recovered.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Sam abandoned his reading and seized his companion, pulling him completely onto his knees and kissing him on the temple this time, while he was already slipping his fingertips under the waistband of the trousers, the only item of clothing his partner was currently wearing. And they didn’t look like his, by the way, given the thick hems around the ankles.
– « I thought you were too busy? » he teased once he’d recovered from his surprise.
– « I’m taking a break. Upset? »
– « If it’s with me, never. »
Their mouths quickly swallowed any further words.
During the holidays, Sam concentrated on the odd jobs he had managed to get, mainly thanks to his stubbornness and sturdiness, doing one manual labour job after another in the relentless sunshine.
His friends had all gone home, or to a nearby destination at any rate, and they checked in with each other from time to time, but Sam very often missed their calls, his schedule so full that he was rarely available to pick up the phone. More often than not, either the phone was switched off or he was sleeping like a log, exhausted.
The rare moments of rest when he wasn’t running around, he spent either in the air-conditioned libraries or in the room he was renting while waiting to get a new one in the autumn.
But he also found himself telling his life story to this avatar of the Archangel Gabriel, allowing himself to open his heart and express thoughts that had never left his mouth before.
His sanity hadn’t slipped, and he was perfectly aware that the person he was talking to wasn’t talking to him because he was a finely carved block of stone, and not out of disdain or any other negative feeling. He wasn’t looking for an answer, he didn’t even know why he was doing it, deep down, but verbalising many of his fears did him a world of good.
He’d even bumped into the person in charge of cleaning the cemetery and, by extension, the poor statue. They had both been able to grumble about the disrespect of people and the increasingly resistant make-up. He’d also asked him about the rumour but hadn’t got any more clues than that, the guy not being from the area. He’d found out about it after complaining for the umpteenth time about the fate of the funerary statue and hadn’t dug any deeper.
Sam had felt a little guilty after that encounter, even though his few attempts had left no trace, but it was hypocritical of him to complain about them when he had been part of it.
He had abandoned his research months ago and saw no point in delving any further. There were no creatures to match the situation and he couldn’t contact Bobby to broaden his horizons. What’s more, there had been no suspicious disappearances or deaths, either since his return or in previous years. In short, nothing that could not be explained by human malevolence.
Sometimes it was good to remember that what lurked in the darkness was sometimes less monstrous than what might lurk in the human heart.
– « And so this girl left me her number in front of her boyfriend. She didn’t even try to be discreet – I think the whole restaurant knew! And of course, the guy wanted to fight, and instead of kicking him out, everyone started cheering us on! As a result, I lost the job. As if it was my fault! » he raged to himself. »
Above him, the angel hadn’t moved, unchanged, but Sam couldn’t help interpreting its expression as compassion.
It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if angels really existed. And if they did, what kind of people they were. As serious and benevolent as religions claimed? Ruthless warriors hunting sinners and praising the good? Or were they close to human homogeneity?
Although he had abandoned his attempts to uncover the fraud behind the legend, he had begun to learn more about the archangel. And there was no shortage of material, between comic books, art, religion… There was plenty to eat and drink!
The older the tale, the more sources multiplied, invalidating some details and adding others.
At least, he hadn’t yet come across a version where Gabriel was a pervert with an insane libido, gorging himself from morning till night on sweets that he conjured up with a snap of his fingers.
Even the human imagination had its limits.
Wandering around the statue, Sam had met a few of these lipstick-wearers. He’d had to explain himself several times, either because he’d been mistaken for the promised soulmate (or her consolation prize), or because he’d been taken for a voyeur and called a pervert.
Hey, nobody had forced them to harass that statue and the cemetery was open to everyone! Don’t be surprised if someone catches you red-handed!
But because of these unfortunate encounters, he had decided to space out his visits.
In any case, it was a good thing he still had some reading to do. The new school year was approaching and he needed to prepare properly. Blessed be the air-conditioned libraries! The only drawback was that they had opening hours.
But that didn’t explain what he was doing back in the graveyard with his books.
A little jaded, he stared at the peaceful profile as if it were all his fault.
– « A compulsive charm? » he suggested blankly.
There had to be a reason, right, for him to come back again and again?
And yet his doubts didn’t stop him from continuing.
The start of the new academic year meant the return of familiar faces and a chance to sink into a calming routine. The pace was as fast as ever and Sam was glad that he had remembered to reread his lessons the month before, saving himself from the panic that was rampant among the other students.
He spent the first few weeks with his friends, who told him about their perfectly normal holidays, with their perfectly normal families and friends, allowing him to pretend that he was one of those people with a perfectly normal life.
This deception lasted for the first few months until, on Halloween, a very enthusiastic Rebecca tried to convince them to use a Ouija board. None of Sam’s arguments worked and he decided to pretend to feel ill to avoid witnessing the debacle. There would always be time to pick up the pieces afterwards, but there was no way he was going to be there.
Everywhere he looked, there were dressed-up children begging for sweets, drunken students and sullen adults. Finding himself at the foot of the angel statue came as no surprise.
– « I hate Halloween, » he said by way of introduction. « The monsters, the disguises, the false threats… For them, it’s all nonsense, empty provocation. But you and I know what’s real, don’t we? What lurks in the shadows, far from the sun and the light. »
He’d only touched a few beers and yet he felt slightly dizzy. Or was it that famous compulsive spell that brought him back here again and again?
The stone was so cold…
On Earth, days lasted twenty-four hours. Depending on how you used them, time could seem to pass too slowly or too slowly.
Always on the run, always in a hurry, living a hundred miles an hour… A hunter didn’t have much of a life expectancy. There was always a faster, more cunning creature who would finish the job. There were also those who had a goal to achieve and, once they’d reached it, refused to go any further. Sometimes it was banality that won out, living on the fringes of society.
The Winchesters spent so much time dying and coming back to life that it wasn’t even funny any more.
And yet they never slowed down, continuing to run, to step on the gas, to go faster, faster, faster.
In comparison, the rare moments of intimacy were slow, thoughtful, savoured.
Sam was a softy, suffering from a need for love that he had never really been able to quench, between an emotionally constipated father and brother, gruff hunters and suspicious civilians or hugs that were too short and foreign.
So it wasn’t unusual for their hugs to amount to just that. Embraces.
Inevitably, they shared a smile, the same thought running through them.
How they had met, for real.
Gabriel let himself be pampered in these moments, accepting this weakness that only the hunter was aware of, letting him cover him with his body, his arms, embracing him as if he were going to evaporate the next second.
It was so strange, this almost religious devotion he felt towards him. It wasn’t the first time a believer had felt that way about him, of course, but when it was Sam… it was so different.
Closing his arms around his shoulders, he let him lie back, dotting his skin with light, barely pressed kisses, simple caresses that his nerves registered late.
When Sam raised his head to his, he lowered his eyelids, expecting their lips to meet. Instead, they pressed against the tip of his nose. Surprised, he hesitated to react but finally decided to remain still, attentive. Curious.
A new kiss was placed on each of his eyelids, reverently, then on the tips of his ears, before finally returning to his lips.
It was as if a soap bubble burst and, involuntarily, tears gathered at the edges of his eyes, soaking his lashes which he waved as he fluttered his eyes, watching his partner with an uncertain, lost air.
– « Why? »
– « Because I love you. »
The funerary statue had aroused many emotions in Sam.
Curiosity at first, then mild amusement, quickly followed by mistrust. It had clung to him throughout his frantic search and never completely let go, always lurking nearby, ready to spring up.
As his visits progressed, he had felt frustrated and angry, before grief and tears washed all that away and Sam saw him in a different light. He was calmer, more composed.
It was as if, no matter how cold the stone was, he was warming up to it.
The still image hadn’t left him for months, his wandering thoughts returning to it from time to time, wondering if he, ex-hunter and future lawyer, would be the one to defeat this curse and allow an innocent man to get on with his life.
The wish? He hadn’t thought about it for a long time. And what could he possibly want from a victim? He was old enough to roll up his sleeves and give himself the happiness he wanted!
For a while, he considered him a bit like a friend, an acquaintance he visited from time to time, whom he kept up to date on his boring daily life without receiving an acid remark or a simple grunt as his only response.
A silence was sometimes better than a thousand speeches.
There was a kind of familiarity as he walked through the wide aisles, past the tombstones whose names he now knew, his attention riveted on the silhouette silhouetted in the distance, its half-open wings resembling offered arms.
No matter how many infamies he had done to other dead people, Sam never dared to sit on one of the graves, preferring instead to settle on the damp grass or the small gravel crunching under his soles.
Sometimes he remained silent, praying inwardly. His thoughts went to those close to him, those he had met and loved, or to himself. Sometimes he also prayed for his mother, whom he knew only through the rare photos that had escaped the fire that had taken everything from them.
The Archangel Gabriel had often been the recipient of his devotions, as much for his protection as for his strength. So praying to a statue of him made the student feel closer to him. To be more audible than he had been before.
Then he’d start talking, greeting him and telling him about his day or whatever else seemed relevant at the time.
And finally, no matter how he approached, his lips would invariably end up on the stone, and each time in a different place.
He didn’t keep track of his attempts, so it was possible that he kissed him several times in the same place, but it didn’t matter. Because every time he did, it seemed to him that a power he’d never known he possessed roared inside him, reinforcing his conviction.
It didn’t matter who had created this legend, it didn’t matter if it was based on real facts or not. It didn’t matter whether it was an innocent soul or a foul being. Sam would know what to do when the time came.
Once this little ritual had been completed, he returned to his life, pushing these few hours to the back of his mind. Until the next time.
– « Gabe, if you’re gonna lie there, you’d better take your shoes off. »
– « Buuuuut! I’m tired! »
Intransigent, the hunter barely glanced at him as he rummaged through his things.
– « You take off your shoes or you sleep on the floor. Your choice. »
– » Would you really dare make this perfect body sleep on something so dirty? I bet if you licked it for a nanosecond you’d get Ebola. »
In spite of himself, Sam imagined the action and his whole face crumpled under a grimace of disgust.
As for the archangel, he lay pensive on the room’s only double bed. At least, until the human sat down on the remaining space, pushing his legs out of his to encourage him to obey. Instead, Gabriel raised them under his nose in an explicit request.
If Sam wanted his shoes off the bedding, it would be up to him to remove them.
– « You’re exaggerating, » he grumbled as he set to work. « You could make them disappear with a snap of your fingers! »
– « I sprained my middle finger. »
– « Of course you did. »
Not at all credulous, Sam raised an eyebrow at him. Gabriel’s only response was to present the middle finger, proudly erect, just like his tongue.
– « I can see that, that’s quite a sprain. »
Unconcerned about where they landed, he tossed his shoes and socks over his shoulder but, instead of returning to the examination of his belongings or, at worst, going back up to the headboard to find himself a little more face to face with the celestial being, he tightened his grip on the thin ankle, a smile a little too cheeky for his partner’s taste stretching his lips, while the hazel eyes seemed to begin to sparkle.
Excitement and mistrust battled in Gabriel’s noggin as he squinted, attentive. He was as ready to defend himself and flee as he was to surrender to the Winchester’s surprisingly expert hands.
Without breaking eye contact, he gently lifted the ankle still in his hand, then leaned forward, gently kissing the hollow formed by the tendon at the top of the foot.
His free hand slipped under the hem of the trousers, moving up the leg, lightly tickling the nerves with the tips of his blunt nails.
In spite of himself, the angel held his breath, attentive, not daring to look away for all the gold in the world.
In any case, breathing wasn’t vital to him.
Little by little, Sam made his way from the foot to the calf, then the knee and finally the thigh. At last, the little bit that the rolled-up trousers allowed him to reach.
When he lowered himself even further, to press his lips to the softer flesh, the softer skin on the inner thighs, Gabriel’s pupils were so dilated that they had swallowed up every hint of colour.
With slow movements, Sam straightened up, still with that mocking smile on his lips, lowering his trouser leg onto his fleshy one, as if he were getting ready to resume the normal course of his day.
But his partner clearly didn’t see it that way and grabbed him by the collar before the hunter could even rest his ankle. Lips curled up over his teeth in an animalistic sneer, he pulled him against him, eyes gleaming with desire as much as fury.
If Sam wanted to turn him on, he had every intention of making him pay for it.
– « You all right, mate? »
Brady knew he wasn’t exactly the best friend, let alone the hardest student, but you’d have to be blind not to see Sam wasting away.
Of course, the girls hadn’t said anything yet, fearful. They had turned to him, the first person Sam had spoken to when he set foot on the Stanford campus.
So it was with all these concerns that he approached his friend, who was bent over his homework, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
– « I’m not sure I understand what I’m reading, » he admitted. « It could be better. But what about you? »
Repressing the urge to roll his eyes at that answer, Brady grabbed an empty chair and sat down beside him, glancing at the book out of politeness. He wasn’t even sure if it was reading for their class together.
– « No, I mean in general. You’ve been a bit… out of it lately. We’ve been worried sick about you, you know? You seem kind of… off. »
Sam’s brow did not furrow at this statement. It just furrowed even more as his eyebrows lowered a little more.
– « What do you mean? I can’t think of anything, I’m as usual… »
And yet it wasn’t long before the peaceful face flashed into his brain. Sam pushed it away, convinced that it had nothing to do with him.
– « Is it the Ouija board? » tried Brady. « I know you were against it and everything, but in the end nothing happened and we spent the night drinking. »
The memory made him wince. He might have seemed over-reacting to the decision, especially as he’d spent the next few days making sure none of his friends were possessed or had unleashed any vengeful spirits on the town, but he had good reason for having done so.
But, above all, the angel inevitably returned to his memory.
– « That was over a month ago, Brady… » he sighed. « I’m not a kid any more, you did what you wanted and I wasn’t feeling very well. It was better for me to go back to the dormitory and get some sleep than to spoil the evening, don’t you think? »
He plunged back into his reading, fidgeting with his pen to hide his slight embarrassment as his thoughts drifted back to that famous evening. Not that he’d done anything that no-one else had done before him!
– « Are you sure? Because we’ve got the impression that it was as a result of that that you became… darker. We feel like you’ve been avoiding us, so we thought it was because of that! »
The clarification hadn’t relieved his friend, who clearly needed an answer more than reassurance.
– « I don’t like Thanksgiving, that’s all. I wasn’t in the best of moods last year either, but I don’t think that warranted any intervention. »
Keeping his tone even was far from easy, especially with his mind bubbling, looking for a way to fend off Brady’s inquisitive attempts but also the untimely memories of his moments with the angel.
Embarrassment tinged his face as he slowly recalled each « meeting » but, above all, the kisses he had swarmed over the granite skin.
He had been a fool.
Slowly, his friend’s voice disappeared, muffled by his dizziness as, eyes wide with amazement, he realised that he had walked into a gigantic trap.
Ah, the hunter was beautiful!
Bile slowly rose in his throat as he slowly realised that he might have sold himself, hand and foot, to some witch or worse.
Rising suddenly, he packed his belongings into his rucksack and hurried out of the library, ignoring his friend’s attempts to stop and question him.
It didn’t take him long to reach the cemetery, and even less time to face the archangel who hadn’t moved an eyelash since their first meeting.
With his breath short and his heart pounding from the rush, Sam had to allow himself a few minutes to settle back into a calmer rhythm, keeping his attention focused on the compassionate features, ready to fight the second they changed to reveal a monstrous grimace.
– « Who are you? » he managed to spit out. « What do you want from me? What’s your aim? How many victims have you fed on? »
But nothing and no-one answered him. Except that you couldn’t count on a Winchester to admit defeat.
His bag was quickly dropped on the gravel and Sam dropped to his knees to scan every square inch of the base for any clues.
What an idiot! Too busy scouring the Internet and reference books, he had forgotten the most obvious clue: to investigate directly on the spot.
But no matter how hard he ran his big hands over the entire surface of the statue, he found nothing. No inscriptions, no spell bags. No clues to link it to any evil creature.
That wasn’t enough to appease him and he quickly grabbed its shoulders as he clumsily pulled himself up to look into its lowered eyelids.
– « I won’t fall for that again, » he raged. « I’ve written off the family business, I’m not going to go back to it in such a stupid way! »
He could have spat at the end to underline his statement, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he just glared at the gentle features before falling back on his feet, picking up his bag and stomping off angrily.
Sam didn’t set foot in the cemetery for months.
In the meantime, he threw himself into his schoolwork with a vehemence that didn’t reassure those around him, but nobody felt brave enough to approach him again.
His marks went up dramatically, which delighted his teachers, but the news barely made him smile.
Plunging himself into work was his solution for dodging reality, but it wasn’t necessarily the best one.
During March, he had to agree to ease off the pace after pushing too hard and almost risking his health, and slowly became the Sam his friends knew.
It wasn’t that the statue of Gabriel had left his mind, far from it, it was just that he found it easier to put it aside. To stop his mind dwelling on it. To move forward on his own.
And it hurts. Once again, he’d put his hope and far too many feelings into something that was coming back to bite him in the ass. He really was an existentialist moron.
Fortunately for him, apart from these two incidents, he managed to blend back into the student crowd and finished the year without any further fuss, getting perfectly decent marks in the exam. Enough, in any case, to dazzle anyone who looked at him.
And it was for this reason that, on Halloween night, the little gang of friends had gathered in a bar to celebrate their results, whatever they might be. In any case, Sam was beating them all to the punch with his 184, which delighted Jessica who, having had a bit too much of the shots Brady provided, clung awkwardly to his shoulder and clucked like a guinea fowl, combing his brown locks a little abruptly.
– « Boy, how much did she drink? » laughed Rebecca, observing her little antics.
She was hardly better herself, clinging to the table as if she were on a boat.
– « Far too much, if you ask me. Brady, water this time. »
– « But there’s water! » he defended himself before emptying his own shot with a flick of his Adam’s apple.
– « Water and nothing else, thank you, » he ordered him gently.
The second he let go of Jessica, she’d be capable of doing something she’d regret the next day. What would she regret the next day? They weren’t really sure, but it was best to keep ignoring him.
Fortunately, their friend obeyed diligently and brought over a whole tray of glasses of water, which he added with difficulty to the leftovers from their previous drink.
– « Halloween really isn’t working out for you, » he commented as he sat back down.
Instead of answering, Sam just shrugged, helping Jess to get the water into her mouth rather than onto their clothes.
– « It’s the Harry Potter thing, » Becky joked.
Her balance hadn’t improved, but she’d also decided to switch to water and was already coping more gracefully than their fourth member, who seemed more intent on sleeping than hydrating despite Sam’s best efforts.
Brady’s furrowed brow invited him to expand on his remark.
– « You see, Harry Potter? If you look, he’s never had a quiet Halloween since the saga began. As well as being the anniversary of his parents’ death, of course. »
– « Well, I think I’d better take Jessica home, » sighed Sam.
He picked up their slightly scattered belongings and tried to straighten out the nurse’s outfit the young woman had put on, to the sniggers and a few salacious remarks from the two drunks.
By way of reaction, all they got was a weary wink before Sam decided that it was all right and got to his feet, draping one of the sleeping woman’s arms over his shoulders and starting to head for the exit.
– « See you tomorrow! And, above all, if you find a young orphan in a cradle outside your door, you’ll call us, won’t you? »
Alas, she had misjudged the volume, and the duo left to the mocking whistles and a few gravelly comments from the customers, which Sam could have done without, his ears crimson with embarrassment.
The cool breeze that greeted them in the street seemed divine by comparison
The journey to the flat had been hazardous and a little tortuous, but at least Sam had managed to get his ex-girlfriend to lie down in bed with him, having removed part of her costume. As for the make-up, he’d let her do it when she woke up and he’d washed the sheets, too bad!
He locked himself in the bathroom after putting the hangover kit on the bedside table and tucking it in.
They might not be together any more, but he still felt a certain tenderness for her. And it wasn’t really like him to leave his friends in the lurch!
Busy brushing his teeth after changing into his pyjamas, he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a break-in.
His first instinct, after discreetly sneaking up behind the intruder, was to throw his toothbrush at him. Fortunately, he quickly caught himself by jumping on the intruder’s neck and starting to fight, trying to disarm him and then knock him out. Then he’ll call the police and the night won’t end until the next day, at least…
– « Whoa, easy, tiger. »*
That voice. That particular tone.
– « Dean? »*
He was torn between wanting to punch him again and wanting to hug him until his bones broke.
– « You’re scared the crap out of me. »*
– « That’s cause you’re out of practice. »*
So much for the punch.
Obviously, even drunk, Jessica had been aware of the noise and had tried to join them. Sam had explained what was going on to her in a rush, not without censoring most of it, while packing his bag. She went back to sleep before he had finished, but he had expected that.
With a wry smile, he scribbled a note and put it next to the bottle of water, repeating his explanations and adding that he would be back in time for his appointment.
Knowing his father, he’d probably just been drinking too much, so there was no reason for him to put his life on hold for more than a couple of were going to bring him out of his alcoholic coma and Sam would be on time for that all-important meeting. A piece of cake. Well, except for the inevitable face-to-face with his old man, but that wouldn’t be the first time…
Cheerful in spite of himself and the situation, he joined his brother in the family Impala and quickly had to stop smiling in the face of his serious gaze. Yes, it wasn’t exactly the mood. Oops.
Dean could be a real asshole, but he couldn’t believe he’d managed it. He’d got back to his flat just in time to smile at the lovely plate of cookies and bite into one of them before jumping straight into bed, appreciating his friend’s thoughtfulness in changing the sheets for him.
Relaxed, with his sole objective in mind, he smiled into the void. The hunt was officially behind him, and he had been able to see his brother again and straighten things out. They had parted on better terms than two years earlier, and that was worth all the gold in the world. He could now prepare for the most decisive interview of his life with peace of mind.
Better still! As petty as it sounded, the fact that he hadn’t seen their father that weekend had been the icing on the cake!
Still smiling, he reopened his eyes after a drop had hit his forehead. Water damage? Please, no, he didn’t have time to worry about that…
All thought left his mind as he met Jessica’s empty gaze, her pressed against the ceiling, blood dripping from a large stain on her stomach, covered by her nightie.
Shocked, he barely managed to roar out his distress before the flames appeared, covering his friend’s body and then the whole flat.
If it hadn’t been for his brother’s quick reaction, there’s no doubt he would have ended up in ashes, too shaken by this macabre surprise to react properly.
Watching the fire brigade, a survival blanket protecting him from the cold, he stood idly by as the paramedics checked that he hadn’t been exposed to the grey fumes for too long.
Further away, in the darkness untouched by the fire, he could make out Dean’s silhouette, watching over him from a distance. Just as he had always done.
Apart from his state of shock, the paramedics considered him to be in fair condition. They wanted to take him in anyway, to keep an eye on him, but he refused, extricating himself from their grasp to join his brother, who didn’t say a word, just arched an eyebrow, curious about what he was going to tell him.
But instead, Sam walked around the car, opening the boot and its false floor, staring at the weapons stowed there, as if the answer to all his questions lay there. He moved his hand forward, about to grab a sawed-off shotgun, but resigned himself, clenching his fist.
– « There’s something I’ve got to do first, » he managed to say.
And, without further explanation, he turned around, the blanket accompanying him like a metallic cape, as he walked away from his old home, not answering his brother’s calls.
The statue was still there.
The thought made Sam smile grimly as he lowered his head and shook it. Of course it hadn’t moved! It was a statue! He had nowhere to go and she wasn’t going anywhere.
Just like him, deep down…
The parallel drew a painful smile and he resumed his advance, as if in a trance. His eyes were riveted on the angel, to the exclusion of all others. But, contrary to his habit, he stepped around it and then, with a confidence he was far from feeling, he climbed it, clutching at what he could, before becoming the one who towered over the other, this time.
He stopped moving just long enough to make sure he was sitting upright, allowing himself a few seconds to appreciate the view before him.
Among the quick research he’d done to solve the case, he’d taken the liberty of leafing through John’s sacrosanct journal, in case he’d come across the same phenomenon.
But nothing, he was back to square one, barely further along now than he had been the previous year.
Clutching the tips of the large wings, he knelt down awkwardly (the space available was really small), biting his lips in nervousness.
The absurdity of what he was about to do hit him hard, but it wasn’t enough to discourage him. Instead, a strange calm came over him as he positioned himself.
Releasing his grip, he pressed a hand to the frozen hairstyle, caressing it as if he could feel every hair, finally sliding his fingers over the raised bare shoulder, tucking it under his jaw. Positioned like this, he leaned over, placing a light kiss on the exposed nape of his neck, pressing down on the slightly outcropping vertebra.
Despite the lack of reaction, he didn’t open his eyes again, his other hand following the stone feathers to the birth of the wings, then brushing the strap of the toga, following the vertebrae that the sculptor had been so meticulous as to represent, stopping at the hollow of the loins, a little boldly, to rest there.
And there, just between the birth of the two petrified wings, he bent down again, kissing the porous granite with reverence.
And the unthinkable happened.
– « What are you thinking? » he mumbled.
Lying on his stomach with his face pressed against the pillow, Sam tried to free one eye with as little movement as possible. It didn’t matter if he looked like a beached seal, he was far too settled and exhausted to make any more effort.
– « What makes you think I’m thinking? »
– « Your innocent tone, for one thing. And on the other, the noise your brains are making as they try to move. »
Pulling himself up on his arms, the hunter had to fight against the covers before he could turn round to face his companion who was sitting against the headboard of the bed, fiddling with his lower lip with one thumb, his eyes lost in the void.
To tell the truth, this was the main reason he had been able to connect the dots. His human side was infinitely easier to understand than all his other facets.
Blindly, he groped the blankets for the first body part he could recognise and, once he had done so, drew it to him abruptly, catching a troubled-looking archangel with a « woof ». Tenderly, he kissed the back of his neck before a deep yawn nearly unhinged his jaw. Then he buried his sleep-crumpled face in the chestnut locks, almost falling asleep again.
– « I’ll have you know, homo sapiens, that I sometimes think. Not everyone needed billions of years of slow evolution. »
– « Keep drowning out the fish and I’ll pluck you like a Thanksgiving turkey, » he grumbled.
Far from picking up on the teasing, Gabriel extricated himself from his grip, moving away to isolate himself again, wrapping his arms around his bare legs.
Realising that it was no longer the time for jokes, Sam struggled to sit up, pushing his pillow back against it, rubbing his face and sighing.
– « Why so serious? » he tried pitifully.
Each leaning against the headboard, barely an arm’s length apart, they watched each other with all the seriousness of a conversation taking place at two in the morning.
Sam, his eyes wrinkled with fatigue, replayed the day in his mind, trying to work out what he could have done wrong to make Gabriel avoid him.
Of the two of them, he was the more affectionate, never hesitating to snuggle up to him or in his arms, no matter what the time, leading more than once to embarrassing situations and Dean’s scathing reflections on the fact that he had to learn to keep his archangel on a leash.
(He found himself dressed in a hideous dog costume, leaning more towards role-playing than Scooby-Doo, to the repulsed expression of his younger brother and the questioning Castiel. Dean never did it again)
Concerned, Sam reached out, resting his arm against the blanket, palm open in a clear invitation to press his own there, whenever he wanted.
But instead he found his arms full of an archangel who must have thought himself smaller than he was, as he stuffed his face into the loose neckline of what served as his pyjamas.
Barely flinching at the touch of his cold nose on his warm skin, Sam rocked him slowly, yawning from time to time as fatigue gradually took its toll on him. He could probably have fallen asleep if Gabriel had stopped moving.
– « Say, Sam… when you kissed me… why? Did you have a wish for me? »
– « Of course I did. »
Out of sight, the celestial being’s expression froze, darkening.
Ignoring him, Sam allowed himself to kiss those locks of hair he loved to fiddle with, pushing them back behind his ear.
– « I wanted to set you free. No matter what was behind it or what the consequences, I wanted to believe in the beauty of things one last time. To preserve the little hope and dream that the ugliness of the real world had not yet torn from me. »
Disturbed, clearly not expecting this, Gabriel snuggled into the embrace a little more, smiling gently as a lump nestled in his throat, emotion preventing him from responding to this declaration.
It was awkward, but Sam managed to twist himself enough to kiss him a little above the shoulder blades, remaining there, resting his head against his, satisfied.
Eventually, he fell asleep in that awful position and without the angelic healing, he would have been aching for the rest of the day…
Sam didn’t open his eyes immediately.
He could feel under his hands and lips the stone softening, replaced by flesh, the cold slowly warming, the wings disappearing, the joints cracking as what was once a statue was forced to move.
And Sam continued to keep his eyelids closed.
If he did so, it wasn’t out of fear.
He had caught a glimpse of that strange, almost pinkish-white glow and feared that what awaited him was forbidden to mere mortals like himself. He remained like that, barely daring to breathe, on his knees, his heart beating wildly and his head bowed.
His head was raised by two fingers pressed under his chin.
Sam had no trouble understanding that he was being patiently examined by the being he had just freed, feeling its gaze on his skin. It was as if he could see beyond his clothes, beyond appearances. Right into his soul.
– « Samuel Winchester. »
The voice was strange. Not human. It was deep, as if rising from the ground itself. It emanated from everywhere, vibrating in the air like a storm ready to erupt. And, above all, it sounded terribly old.
– « Are you afraid of me? »
– « No, » he dared to say.
– « Then what are you waiting for to open your eyes? »
Taking the invitation for what it was, Sam swallowed as he obeyed.
The glow was still there, seeming to radiate from the stranger’s body, dazzling him until his pupils got used to it.
He was surprised to be surprised when he recognised the archangel, trait for trait. Which did not go unnoticed.
– « You seem to be quite taken with my sublime appearance, » boasted the stranger.
Folding his free arm to strike a pose, he pushed back a rebellious lock of hair.
– « You… you really are an angel? » murmured the student in a respectful tone.
– « I’m better than that! I’m an archangel! »
The air behind him seemed to shimmer and the shadows to move, but that was all Sam could see. Especially as the grip on his chin hadn’t been loosened.
He wouldn’t have been the first creature to lie about his identity but, for some reason, Sam decided to believe him. He watched in awe, drinking in every line he could make out despite the inky night.
– « You’ve freed me, » said the archangel. « And I think a reward is in order. What do you think, handsome? »
Sam nodded absently. He was too concentrated to pay full attention to what he was saying.
This was probably the first and last time he would be able to catch a glimpse of a celestial being, and he would be a fool to look away now that he had permission to do so.
His chin was dropped, allowing him to relieve the throbbing in the back of his neck, as the archangel knelt before him, grimacing as he bent his knees and brought them into contact with the stone, which grew colder and colder as the temperature dropped.
A slight mist escaped from their mouths as they stared at each other. Sam was confused, wondering what was going to happen, while his opposite number slowly flashed a small smile that he thought was too hungry to escape unscathed.
But he didn’t have time to dither any longer, as one authoritative hand grabbed his flannel shirt to pull them both closer, while the other snaked up his torso before nestling against the back of his neck to tilt it slightly. But most of all, his brain short-circuited completely as a kiss was pressed against her lips.
It wasn’t as if he really needed his neurons to imitate him, wrapping his hands around the fragile fabric of the toga, brushing the warm skin underneath, and participating enough in the kiss to become passionate about it.
They separated only after Sam had shown an urgent need to breathe, which he did, still embraced, his head resting against the arm playing with his hair.
– « Again, » he croaked.
A mischievous gleam seemed to ignite the whisky-coloured irises.
– « Be careful what you wish for, you might get it… » he breathed before obeying.
– « You know that in my human form, I’ve got pleeeenty of other places you could kiss? » declared Gabriel one day.
Behind his back, Sam gave a simple grunt without moving.
– « And I’m not even talking about my true form! A thousand years wouldn’t be enough to go round it all! »
But that wasn’t enough to convince the hunter, even though the archangel perceived the curve of a smile against his skin.
– « You know this means nothing to us? »
– « For the two of us, or for you, O frightening celestial garrison under the orders of the Almighty God? »
To join in the conversation, he straightened up and lay down beside his companion, who begged for a kiss, which he immediately got.
– « Okay, maybe not for both of us, but none of my brothers will be touched. »
– « Good thing I’m interested in you, then. »
– « Saaaaam, » whined the archangel falsely.
– « Boring, isn’t it? » laughed Sam.
In response, Gabriel pulled out a lock of his precious hair at the same time as his tongue, getting his hand slapped in reaction.
– « What I’m trying to tell you is that kissing my wingtips, especially in this form, is biologically meaningless. It’s not an erogenous zone. If anything, it’s a little more sensitive because I have difficulty accessing it, but in the same way as with you. »
– « So you want me to stop? »
By dint of his gesticulations, Sam lay on his back and Gabriel wallowed comfortably on top of him, looking as satisfied as a cat who’s stolen the cream.
– « I didn’t say that. It’s just that this is bordering on obsession. I’m starting to get the idea you love my wings more than me, that’s all. »
– « You spend hours playing with my hair, should I think the same? »
They stuck out their tongues at each other before laughing at each other’s childishness.
Remaining in this position, they settled down a little more comfortably and closed their eyes, slowly giving in to sleep.
– « Say, Sammy… » whispered Gabriel.
– » Don’t call me Sammy, » he mumbled in reply.
– « Would you still love me if I was a worm? »
– « … What? »
How do you kiss an angel?
Whatever area you choose, the most important thing is to do it tenderly.
– « SAAAAAAM! »
– « What’s the matter, Dean? » sighed the man as he ran up to him.
– « Did you write that in Dad’s journal?! »
His movement was so sudden that he almost poked him in the eye with the famous notebook, but in the end his younger brother had to be content with squinting to read the incriminating lines.
And blush like crazy.
– « … No? »
– « You’re lying! It’s not me and we’re the only ones to touch it! »
– « Maybe Castiel… »
– « I’ve already asked him and you know he’s incapable of lying! »
Unbeknownst to them, a single fluffy, iridescent feather lay on the floor next to the table where John’s journal had been before his eldest son arrived. But it was just an innocent feather. Was it not?
Gribouillis et ratures 