Call On You Now

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this is by far the longest fucking thing i 've ever written . i 've put in a lot of effort into it , and spent a lot of time working on it . i apologize if there 's any spelling or grammar mistakes , if there are any . i sincerely hope you enjoy this oneshot ! :3

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"Please... I can't... I need some help. Please?"

The whispered plea for help left Dean's throat uncomfortably tight. He sank down against one of the old cars, back pressed against the cold metal, and rested his forehead on his knee. A hot tear slid down his cheek as the distant sound of Sam's shouting, his begging and pleading, echoed through the yard. He couldn't fix this, but he - he just couldn't, not anymore, fear and pain and emptiness hollowing him from the inside out until he had nothing left to give.

A shuddering breath escaped him and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sting.

Warmth dropped around his shoulders, like stepping out into the full heat of a sunny day: creeping under his shirt and across his skin, chasing away the chill of the night. The pressure was light, curving around him in a way that could be termed protective, fleeting but teasing where he stiffened. The air turned sticky-sweet fast, the taste heavy on the back of his tongue when he swallowed, and when he went to open his eyes a sweaty palm pressed them shut.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Dean-o."

"Gabriel," he muttered, tense. "The fuck, man?"

Gabriel chuckled and his hand dropped, his chest vibrating with a pleased hum when Dean kept his eyes closed. "You should be more careful about asking for help. You never know who might respond."

"I didn't -" Dean stopped, too late, because Gabriel was right and he should know better after all the shit they'd been through. Angel or demon, no matter who answered he'd be screwed.

"Ah, but you did. And I was tempted to just ignore you, but you looked so pathetic I couldn't help myself." Something impossibly soft slid across the skin of Dean's cheek, brushing through the tear streaks, and he shied away at the memory. He brought his hands up and scrubbed his face roughly, removing all traces of his fit of weakness.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I've been thinking about what you said."

An image of the last time he saw Gabriel, standing alone in the middle of that warehouse, flickered behind Dean's closed lids. Waterlogged and defeated, like a petulant child brought to hand. He breathed deep but relaxed slightly, and the warmth intensified when Gabriel made another pleased sound. He said, "And what, you decided to visit me to say that you still think I should give in to your dick brother?"

"No."

Simple and immediate, and Dean was instantly suspicious. "No?"

"You want me to say it again?" Gabriel sounded amused. "No. N-O. I could say it in over a thousand different languages if you'd prefer."

"Why?

"You're not like Michael."

It sounded like a random change of subject. Dean scowled.

Gabriel huffed out another quiet laugh. "You think that my brothers care about anything but themselves? This planet, humanity, none of it matters to them. Believe me, I tried to knock some sense into them for hundreds of years before I finally gave up. Guess I don't have your patience." Another flick, this time through Dean's hair. "It's occurred to me that after the Apocalypse Michael will be just as insufferable as ever, particularly now that Father's gone AWOL. Have you ever seen a paradise run by an overbearing know-it-all?"