For All The Right Reasons (DISCONTINUED)

1

Gabriel isn't entirely religious. Sure, he's had his run-ins with demons, but that doesn't mean he has to believe there's more out there.

'If angels really exist in this world, how come they sit on their holy asses and don't stop demons from roaming?' That was his logic.

So when a tall man came up to him at the bar to stop him from drinking too much, and Gabriel asked what he was, the man answered his guardian angel... the hunter had never laughed so hard in his life.

"Yeah, sure you are. And I'm Donald Trump." Gabriel chuckles into his whiskey, shaking his head. "You got the looks of one, sugar. But don't expect me to really believe that." The hunter held his tongue on hunts involving churches and 'The Lord'. He had his opinion, and it wasn't anything good. "If you're looking for a good time, you could've just asked."

This so-called 'guardian angel' guy was several inches taller than him. But that never stopped Gabriel- not that he'd been with anyone that freakishly tall. This man in front of him was a tall glass of water... Gabriel could definitely work with that.

The man shook his head, taking a seat next to the hunter. "Gabriel Novak, I really am an angel, specifically yours." Gabriel glared. "Your brother is about to call you. His guardian angel is with him right now."

Just like the man said, the ringtone set for his brother began to play. Gabriel widened his eyes, his glare falling to a shocked face. He reached for his phone, answering the call immediately. "Cassie? Are you okay?"

A sigh came from the phone. "Gabriel, come back to the motel. And bring Sam with you." Then he hung up.

"Do you believe me now?"

Gabriel grumbled something under his breath and slammed the money owed. Sam followed him, a deep frown on his face. The so-called 'angel' looked a little upset with Gabriel, but who was the hunter to judge?

The frown slowly was replaced by one of discomfort. "I have wings, can we fly?" Sam had never been in a motor vehicle. The car in front of him looked tiny, making the angel feel something he shouldn't be able to feel. His wings fluttered as a reminder of the problem with confined spaces as such. What was the word? Claustrophobia.

Gabriel rolled his eyes to the sky. "No way, Samantha. You interrupted my night, therefore we're taking my car." And he still called bullshit on the 'angel' thing. "Suck it up, buttercup." He watched Sam slip into the car, making sure he was following the order he had given before taking a seat and starting up the engine.

The music was turned up loud. In the passenger seat, Sam kept squirming and Gabriel swore he heard wings fluttering. It was annoying to listen to and he was already tired of it. Another thing he was tired of was the scowl and angry look that Sam was giving him. Cars weren't that bad to be in.

When they pulled up to the motel, Sam was quick to exit the car, letting out a relieved sigh he didn't realize he was holding. Never again would he step into a tiny car like this- or he would probably end up breaking something... preferably the driver's bones. Even if he hated it, Gabriel wasn't someone he could harm, so Sam would settle with bitching to him about it, maybe adding a little threat to it.

There were two men waiting in front of a motel room. Gabriel looked at the man next to his brother, narrowing his eyes. Was this another 'angel'? His little brother gave him a look that said 'don't even think about saying anything', so the older Novak shut his mouth.

The man next to Castiel gave Sam a funny look. "Why didn't you just fly here? We have wings for a reason, Sammy."

Sam jabbed a thumb towards Gabriel. "Ask him, Dean," he grumbled in annoyance. He was too busy trying to pop his back, giving his wings a little freedom. "Can we just go inside." Despite the older Novak being the one he was supposed to protect, Sam already hated him. They just needed to explain their situation, then him and Dean would leave.

Castiel sent a glare to his brother, who shrugged. The lack of faith and belief inside Gabriel would make this more complicated than it should be. Instead of saying anything, he opened the door to the motel. The words on the tip of his tongue were not to be said around the angels, only for his brother's ears.

The hunters and angels sat across from each other. Dean and Sam took their places at the round table in the kitchen, a beer that Dean had popped into existence in both their hands. The hunters sat on the edge of their beds. Castiel had given his brother a bottle of water, something to sober him up, while he himself held a glass of whiskey.

"Now," Castiel straightened his body, looking between the angels with narrowed eyes. "Why are you here?"