Another sunny day, another dingy motel, dirt caked so heavily onto the window that light could barely filter through. It smelled like a basement, musty and humid, and this hadn't even been the worst one this month. Life was glamorous as always.

This was set to be a quick salt and burn, and she sat there thanking her rarely seen lucky stars as she watched a mouse run squeaking across the bathroom floor. Lovely. She was getting too old for this shit, but it was time for food and a solid three hours before some good old-fashioned grave raiding tonight. The drive had been long, the interviews with vics monotonous, and she was finally back in Kentucky, time to get- her thoughts were abruptly cut short by her phone vibrating in the pocket of her worn black leather jacket.

"Yeah?" She answered, annoyed, throwing her duffel down onto the motel bed and rolling her eyes at the cloud of dust that floated off the bedspread.

"Liv?" a deep, somber voice sounded and she stopped dead in her tracks, a pit forming her stomach. Sam Winchester. This was bad.

"Sam fucking Winchester. Hi," she answered, trying to keep her voice cool. It had been almost a decade since she'd heard his voice.

"Hey, uh, look I know that this, this is, just, this..."

"What? Spit it out." Panic started to overcome her, a stuttering Winchester never led to good news.

"We need you. We have, uh, we have Gabriel, and he's, he's in rough shape."

"Gabriel..."

That pit that had formed in her stomach lurched, jumping all the way up into her throat, this was not happening.

"Yeah, turns out he's been held prisoner in hell for, God knows how long and.. and he's wrecked. We're honestly not sure if he's even still in there. But if anyone can pull him out, well, we thought it'd be you..."

"What do you mean... not sure he's still in there? What's wrong with him?"

"We uh, everything? Liv, it's bad."

Her heart was pounding. Held prisoner in hell... wrecked... not even still in there... all the horrible things she'd said, thought, they came running back into her head. Nine years of cursing his existence punched her right in the gut. She was lightheaded and dizzy, the world was spinning around her.

Nine years. It'd been nine years since she'd last seen him. After Lucifer had "killed" him, he'd come shortly after, telling her he loved her, that once everything settled down he'd be back but he needed to lay low. And she hadn't seen him since.

The hotel room was pitch dark, wind howling through the cracked window pulling droplets of rain into the already damp room. She sat at the table, unable to distinguish the rain from tears on her face. It had been hours, days, honestly she wasn't sure, all she knew was he was gone. The Winchesters didn't dare face her. They knew. They knew both her wrath, and her love for the angel, and she'd given them a fair taste of what would happen if she saw them again.

Thunder cracked, but she didn't flinch. Lightning seared across the black sky, but she didn't blink. With every flash all she could see was his body splayed on the ground, his massive wings burning across the land.

"Liv?"

Hallucinations were setting in. Great. The icing on top of the shit cake.

"Sweetheart," she heard him say, her memory was doing him great justice, it was perfect, "I'm uh, I'm not dead. You can stop being comatose over there."

The world stopped. All she could hear, feel, even see, was her heart pounding in her chest, the blood rushing through her veins. It took a moment, but she finally turned her head to the source of the sound, half expecting to see Lucifer, but it was him, hands held out presenting himself with that cocky little smirk on his face. But his eyes bore his fear.

"How do I know it's you?" She croaked, voice weak and cracking.

"Well, your birthday is September 4th, favorite food are those disgusting, weird, not chicken but you think they are no matter how many times I tell you they're not, things from that gas station in Kentucky, and is that a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can definitely see myself in your pants."

Her chest finally unconstricted, air rushed into her lungs like she was taking her first breath, and the wail that followed gave the storm a run for its money. She leapt from the chair, the force of her movement sending it crashing into the wall, and threw herself into his waiting arms. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face into his neck, his scent filling her senses, arid and warm, arms gripping her tightly.

"Sssshh, it's ok," he cooed, planting his lips firmly on her head, burying his nose in her hair, "if I didn't know better I'd swear you loved me or something."

"Don't get crazy now," she laughed through her tears, the sound thick and heavy.

"I have to go," he confessed, dropping his eyes sadly.

"What?"

"I need to hide out until this whole, apocalypse circus is done. Until Lucifer is gone."

"I'll come with you."

"No can do. Let's just say I don't have the, classiest of friends. Go help those two gigantors stuff my big bro back into time out, and I'll be home. I promise."

She'd stared at him, her grip tightening on his collar, a poor attempt at holding him there, but he broke her heart with a simple chaste kiss.

"I love you, you know?" were the last words she'd heard him speak before the echo of his wings ricocheted off the walls. The silence that followed was deafening.

He had never come home.

"I'm," she began, petrified of what now lay ahead of her, "I'll be there in 12."

Ten hours later she pulled up to the address Sam had given her, confused at the abandoned industrial building before her, panic creeping in slowly. The grimy brick building towering from the rocky uneven ground looked more like where she'd be hunting something, not going for a family reunion. She saw a door surrounded by a circle of bricks down a flight of metal railed stone stairs and she pulled her gun out before cautiously approaching it and knocking slowly three times.

"Olivia, hello," a deep, gravelly voice greeted as he swung the door open.

Castiel. She'd missed the awkward trench coat angel. He'd checked in on her periodically over the years, helping her here and there.

"Cas," she sighed in relief, putting her gun back into the waistband of her jeans.

His eyes were filled with sorrow as they followed her as she entered the bunker, knowing how broken she still truly was. The sight behind the door was not what she was expecting, grand and bright, metal stairs leading to a room with old computer systems lining the walls. Any other day she would be in awe, but she wasn't here for a tour.

"Hey!" Sam greeted, jogging into view as Cas led her down the staircase, a hand pressed gently between her shoulders.

"Hey... Dean here?"

"Uh, long story... he's in another dimension. An alternate universe. Trying to rescue Lucifer's son and our mom."

She stared at him blankly, "Your dead mom?"

"Like I said, long story... how are you?"

"I've been better."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Sorry about this, I know, that we didn't exactly end things too well."

"That's, yeah.. sorry."

"Oh no worries, I understand. So he's, uh, Gabriel is this way."

As Sam led her through the building, she tried to steal glances at all it had to offer. A library, lots of old useless electronics, although she thought maybe Sam had had a little fun tinkering with it all if he'd ever gotten a chance. They reached a hall lined with doors and Sam stopped at one labeled '32', his hand freezing as it grabbed the knob.

"How bad is it?" She asked, her voice ridden with fear.

"It's bad. I'm not gonna sugar coat it, it's really bad. I'm, I'm sorry."

She nodded, feeling tears pricking at her eyes, her face growing hot.

"He's, he isn't Gabriel anymore..." Sam finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

He opened the door slowly. At first appearances the room looked empty unoccupied, black Enochian symbols etched on every available inch the room. Confused, she looked back at Sam. He motioned toward the dresser in the corner, and she saw a small figure huddled into a ball beside it. It didn't even look human.

"Oh my god," when the realization hit her she ran over, the bloody matted hair, the filthy clothes, his head hung low, forehead against his bent knees. Her hands came to his forearms and he jumped, panicked, terrified, pushing himself deeper into the dark corner. His eyes were wide, petrified, sunken into his head, his face blood stained and marred, tiny holes, appearing like stitch wounds surrounded his mouth.

"Gabriel," she quietly sobbed, "it's me."

His eyes didn't change. They were completely dead. What once was filled with golden flashes of life and mischief, sat cold and dull, staring aimlessly into the floor.

"I'm, I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered, "Gabriel."

His tight, pained grimace softened slightly, and the tiniest hint of recognition fell onto his face before he buried his face back into the crook of his elbow. She sat down in front of him, lost on what to do. How could this happen to an Archangel?

"Liv," she heard Sam whisper from the door, she looked to him and he beckoned her over.

"All we know, is that Asmodeus was extracting his grace, and using it on himself. We have a little bit of it here and we're trying to give it to him, as a pick me up."

"What's an Asmodeus?"

"He's the current king of hell, youngest son of hell."

"So Azazel's little brother... how poetic. And he was, extracting.. Gabriel's grace? How?"

"Honestly we're not sure. He came like this, except his mouth had been sewn shut. With a vial of his grace that Ketch stole."

"So for nine years, he's been in Hell, being virtually fed on by some pissant demon? Am I following along correctly?"

"Yeah, well we don't know how long but, awhile it seems. He'd take what he could, let Gabriel recharge, then take it again, bled dry, basically. And this uh, this Asmodeus, when we met him he could shape shift, like Gabriel can, so, I guess it was all part of his rise to power."

She nodded. Shapeshifting. That explained Gabriel's fear when he saw her. Something told her he'd seen her, or at least her form, at some point in the last 9 years.

"What can I do Sam?" She whispered, exasperated, desperate.

"We hoped you'd know," he replied, hope fading from his voice.

She took a deep breath and walked back over to Gabriel, sitting down in front of him at a safe distance.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered just loud enough to hear, "Gabriel, I'm so sorry."

She couldn't help the tears that fell. For him, for the things she said about him, felt about him. She'd cursed him, hated him, and all this time she should have been looking for him. The guilt had settled in. She hadn't believed in him or trusted him, all she had done was written him off as a liar and let him rot in the pit to be mutilated and tortured.

His eyes never lifted, just stared into the dark corner of the room, unmoving, not even blinking.

"You remember, that one time, when we flew out to that island, out by Belize. I made you sit through the airplane ride," she started retelling, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth, "and we were sitting in the ocean, at sunset, because we were cheesy, and..."

Yeah, he remembered. He remembered that day very well. That memory was one of the only things he still had.

He walked out of the tiny little beach house, drinks in hand, out towards the ocean. The sun slowly dipped closer and closer toward the vast, open blue and one tiny figure sat in the sand, the light illuminating her skin. She was practically glowing. Her hair fell in messy, salt tousled waves down her bare back and around her shoulders, and he swore that this one had been made by Dad's hands himself, perfect and beautiful, strong and soft and free.

When he reached her, she didn't budge. Her eyes were closed, her skin soaking in the last of the sun's warmth. He didn't think she even knew he was there. So he marveled a little more. Searing this image into his brain, because in 1000 years he wanted to recall it, to remember every single detail, down to the placement of each grain of sand scattered across her chest, every tiny freckle that danced along her nose and cheeks, her eyelashes and the way they brushed her brow. Every imperfection was important. He knelt down quietly, gently laying his lips to the top of her shoulder in a light kiss, tasting the ocean salt on her skin.

"I love you, you know," He whispered into her hair before parting the falling veil with his nose, finding the side of her neck with his mouth.

"I know," she responded, her eyes remaining closed but her smiling growing.

"Do you?"

She reached behind her, grabbing his hand and bringing his arm around her waist, locking her fingers with his against her stomach as she leaned her body back into his chest, her head resting back across his shoulder.

"Yes," she answered, turning her head and gently kissing his jaw.

Her certainty, faith, and trust in him shocked him. She had no hesitation in answering him. The swelling in his chest was consuming him. There was no explanation for any of this, the dejected little brother, the runaway, dads little last ditch, got-nothing-left creation had finally found peace. In the arms of a human, this human, he'd finally found a home.

"I kinda wanna stay here forever," she giggled, nose scrunching up before rolling herself forward and standing up, pulling him up with her. "Come on," she smiled, mischief in her eyes.

He obeyed, letting her lead him to the waters edge, the waves lapping at their toes. She peered up at him, he looked so serious, troubled almost.

"What's wrong?" She asked, keeping his hand in hers while she turned to face him, other hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

She studied his face, perfect, sharp and angled, his amber eyes looking at her with an adoration she swore was beyond a human's capability.

"I kinda want to stay here forever too, except my forever, actually IS forever," he confessed, leaning into her hand. If there was ever a time to be weak, this seemed like it.

He'd always kept a brave face on around her, not because she expected it, but because his burdens were his own to bear. The burden of one day being left behind, the burden of knowing she was going to die one day. And his life, his existence, whatever it was, would be over, but he'd still be here.

She leaned up and pressed a simple, sincere kiss on his lips, "I'll love you even when I'm in, wherever I'm headed," she assured, pushing that one swoop of hair away from his eyes, "Heaven isn't too far."

No, it wasn't. It was right here.

"Gabe?" He heard her whisper again, her voice still the sweetest sound that would ever exist, pulling him from his oh so familiar dream world, eyes finally moving to look at her.

This was no ruse, no trick. She was right in front of him, saying his name, was the nightmare was finally over? Slowly his hand pulled away from his body, reaching for her, stretching to the one thing that could pull him free.

She smiled as she gently laced her fingers with his, noticing the absence of his warmth she'd remembered on cold, lonely nights. Gently she pulled him from the floor, to the bed. His body reforming into a small knot, eyes hollow but with the tiniest glimmer of light shining through.

"Hey," Sam Winchester greeted softly as he came into the room, Castiel on his heels, "well at least he's not in the corner anymore."

"Hasn't said a word," she replied, combing her fingers over the blood matted curls behind his ears.

That little motion had always been his greatest weakness. She didn't know the power it had over him. Sure, she probably had gathered he enjoyed it, but it was more than that. It was pure affection, something Gabriel had never quite been acquainted with… until her. He remembered the feeling of her lips on his, the way her body fit perfectly into his arms, and those magical little fingers running through his hair. It made him weak and strong at the same time.

Unable to understand the conversation of the three people surrounding him, the world was hazy and sounds were muffled, he concentrated on the gentle scratches against his scalp and the warmth radiating off of the woman sitting at his side.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, as Castiel approached, pushing the sleeves of his coat up his wrists and laying his hands on the archangels head, a fierce protectiveness rising in her chest.

"I must reiterate, it's not possible for an angel to heal an archangel. I'm just trying to jolt his mind into thinking straight. Even then, Liv, Sam... Gabriel... it's, it's possible that he's lost."

She shook her head, no he'd come back. He had to. She needed him. She always had and she always would.

"Gabriel, please," she begged, leaning her forehead against his temple, uncaring of the bloody, filthy mess he was.

Sam watched the scene unfold before him. He thought for a moment that privacy was best, but he needed to be there if Gabriel broke back through.

"Gabriel," she cried, unable to keep her resolve, to keep her strength up.

Seeing him like this broke something deep inside of her. Bloody, battered, still and cold as stone he sat, and she clung to him, pushing every ounce of everything she had to bringing him back.

"I know, I know that it's hard. I know that you're scared. I'm not going to hurt you, Sam isn't going to hurt you. But you're scaring me. I've lived, all these years, thinking you were gone, but here you are, and I, I need you. I've always needed you, I always will. I know you think you're worthless, and broken, and weak, but you're not. You are everything. I'm living and breathing right now because you existed. I need you, Gabriel. I love you. Even after all these years, I love you still. Please don't, don't leave me like this. Let me help you. Just please, come back to me, please Gabe."

Her tears were falling and sobs wracked her body. Sam wanted to go to her, but she'd wrapped herself tightly around the angel, and he finally saw a glimmer of the depth of what they had. He watched as she cried into his cheek, forehead pressed firmly to his temple still, her tears leaving streaks in the blood dried on his face. She cradled his head gently with a hand wrapped around to his other cheek, her other arm between them, gripping his lifeless hand.

They had loved each other, really loved. And they still did.

The scene before him jolted memories of the times he'd lost Dean, and Jess, how helpless and lost he'd been. He'd never seen her like this. Olivia had always been a pillar of strength. Her reputation in the hunters' world rivaled that of Sam and his brother; she'd taken out entire nests of vampires, packs of werewolves, single handedly. She was cunning and ruthless, but every hero had their kryptonite.

"Liv, can I, speak with you outside," Cas asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, kissing Gabriel's cheek before standing, keeping her eyes locked on him until she'd turned the corner.

"Are you all right?" Castiel inquired, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine," she answered, coldly.

"I know you're not fine."

"Then why are you bothering to even ask?"

Castiel hung his head and she felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "for everything. I, I told Sam not to call you.."

"NOT to call me?" She interjected, her voice raising in anger, "not to call me. Why the fuck would you think to not call me?!"

"This is, a lot-"

"He's DYING Cas! That's what this is!"

"I know."

"So fuck you for even considering not calling me here."

"Liv..."

"What?!"

"I'm trying. You aren't the only one who loves him."

Sam stood alone in the room, Gabriel still huddled into a ball on the bed. The angel had always been small, but somehow he'd made himself even smaller. The day had taken a major emotional toll on the younger Winchester. Dean leaving (with Ketch of all people) to apocalypse world, Gabriel, Liv, and no matter how many times he turned the situation over in his head, he couldn't find a single solution to one problem. He was helpless. It was back to the drawing board.

"Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. Look, I know you think it's safer inside. No more torture. No more pain. No more expectations. I've been there. You were nothing like your family. You sure as hell weren't like your dad. Me either. And just like you, I got out. Or I-I thought I got out. But then... then my family needed me. And this is my life. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. Jack, your nephew, needs you. Liv needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel, I need you. So, please, help us."

Again, he got no response. This was hopeless. He needed a new plan, and that wasn't going to come easy.

"Hey," Liv greeted, standing beside the much taller hunter, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, "so, what's the plan? I'm sure you needed him for something and that clearly isn't panning out."

He heard the accusatory tone to her voice, "uh, I don't know. Wait for Dean to get back, see what he's been able to do over in Apocalypse World."

"Yeah, I guess I'm gonna need an update on all that."

"You're, you're gonna help?"

"Well I'm not leaving him. And he's with you. And I'm betting that you don't let me take him, so… logical choice."

"This is the safest place for him."

"Yeah. Quite the bomb shelter you have here."

"Oh, you have no idea."

She felt the corner of her lips twitch into a small smile. She'd always liked Sam. Dean, on the other hand, they were far too alike, fire fighting fire.

"Hungry? I'll go and grab you some food. We have a kitchen," he added with a smile and a bragging tone.

"A kitchen? Fuck, what's that? You know how to use it?" She asked, her smile growing bigger, and for the first time in awhile, it felt genuine.

"Well enough, yeah. I make a mean egg white omelet."

"That's disgusting."

Sam laughed, "Well, I'll go get you a burger then."

She gave him an approving nod as he turned towards the door, stopping and wrapping an arm lazily around her.

"We're gonna figure this out. All of it. Gabriel too," he promised, "we'll get him back."

"Thanks Sam," she murmured, grabbing his forearm, her eyes staying locked on the figure in front of her.

Once Sam had left, she walked back over to the bed, sitting back beside the angel, shoulder gently leaning against his.

"Come on Gabe, you're stronger than this. You're more fucking stubborn than this, that's for sure," she reasoned to no one, "you promised..."

You promised you'd come back.

"I know."

Every nerve in her body whirred to life, her heart jumped into overdrive at the sound of that voice. It was soft and hoarse. In that moment, she finally understood the phrase, 'music to my ears', because there was nothing in this world, or any other, that she would have wanted to hear more.

"Gabriel?" She turned slowly, whispering his name as her eyes locked with his, his gaze soft as he finally truly saw her.

"Hi sweetheart."

Tears fell onto her cheeks as his grace surged through him, his eyes blazing blue.