Title: Claiming Game

Author: OpheliacAngel

Pairing: Dean/Gabriel

Genres: Romance/Horror

Rating: Mature

Summary: Gabriel's hands are always in his eyes, as if trying to make something work.

As if trying to make Dean work again.

Chapter Summary: It was Dean who only ever had an interest in this, in them.

A/N: Written for SPN Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge for October's prompt fear/horror. Also a fill on my h/c_bingo card for 'head trauma.'

Series: Part 3 of Special Things

Soundtrack: Lyrics are from Crossfade's 'Starless'

Chapter 1: Boundless

~If only you could watch me fall

I cannot feel it anymore

The soul you cut the soul you adore

Cannot feel you anymore

Cause you've run through me with destructive force~

You're sorta special to me, kiddo. You're the only one who ever followed me.

It's Gabriel who follows him now. Into his dreams, twenty feet behind him but every time Dean turns around there's no one there. He doesn't do much all day but walk around the farm Gabriel led him to, ranting and raving for Gabriel to let him out or just kill him already. He'll walk for miles and miles but only end back up right where he started, cursing under his breath, Gabriel's chuckling seeming to fill the air around him.

His head throbs for days and days, courtesy of the concussion Dean is sure but also not so sure Gabriel gave him. If Gabriel wanted to sneak up on him, Dean's sure there were plenty of other ways to do it other than knocking him out and proceeding to try to kill him with heat, all while not telling Dean a damn thing and not answering any of his questions.

Except that he's an archangel. With wings.

Wings that seem hell bent on crushing him. Yet not here. There have been no instances of the shadow of those wings on the wall here. He sleeps on the floor of the barn, no weapons, no clue what the hell he's doing here or when Gabriel will let him leave. Not sure whether he's dreaming all of this up, the last ten years of his life.

Gabriel as only a figment of Dean's imagination.

In his dreams there is Dean waking up with Gabriel hovering over him and how he knows it's only a dream because Gabriel's eyes are wide and golden, but not unnaturally so, and his hands are gentle as they probe Dean's still bleeding head. It's impossible, but it's his blood that's heating him up, making him feverish, and even though his rational mind tells him that Gabriel's warping his mind to make it seem like his blood sizzles and then evaporates moments after it hits the wood floor, it still seems so fitting in both worlds that have stopped making sense: his dreamworld and reality.

He'll wake up - or whatever the hell it really is - and his head will be pounding like some freaking storm is playing out inside it, thunder and lightning, the whole shebang. He'll close his eyes and feel liquid dripping down past his eyelids and onto his cheeks, but after a few minutes the feeling dissipates and Dean's simply there, propped up against the wall behind him, sunlight filtering in through the cracks and warming up his back, and he'll touch his forehead but it'll be dry, hair sticky with nothing but sweat.

What the hell Gabriel has to gain from this, Dean doesn't know.

He just wishes he would know which Gabriel is real: the one that never shows up or the one in his dreams that maybe aren't dreams at all.

Sometimes he dreams and he's still fighting, the figure never made out clearly no matter how hard he looks, his fists never making impact and then it's his head being slammed into the wall over and over, by someone he can't place and can't name, but someone whose hands he can't really feel and therefore can't fight against. It's the blood that freaks him out, his blood, how often he sees it, how it makes him nauseous just to feel it blossom at his scalp and then trickle down to his eyes. No matter how much he rubs them he can still feel the warm liquid seeping into his eyes, no matter how much of it coats his knuckles and palms he's still blinded by it.

Gabriel's also there after he has these dreams, or maybe he's still dreaming and it's the same scene from earlier played back and forth, except Dean can't exactly form words this time, or see much of anything.

But the golden flash that temporarily robs him of even the little sight he gains is unmistakable, nor the hands that clutch Dean's head too hard, fingernails digging into his scalp until Dean's gritting his teeth. There's Dean struggling to get ground under him, feet slipping on the wood as they try to get under him and prop him up because Gabriel's holding him up and his hands are too cold and his fingers are like claws as they poke him and prod him and wipe the blood out of his eyes.

Dean knows Gabriel can do more, but he sits there, tense and hating every second of it, not able to talk past the dryness in his throat, not able to see much of anything except what Gabriel wants him to. Help me fucking see! Dean screams in his head because he knows Gabriel can hear him there, if he presses inside Dean's mind in a way that sometimes Dean can't even feel. Most of the time Dean can feel though and that's all he does. Gabriel wants him to feel, wants him to feel uncomfortable and stumble on the edge of his sanity with just enough fear.

One day he decides to go limp in Gabriel's arms, trying to get a rise out of him. Gabriel laughs and holds him up higher, further away from the ground and Dean thinks he'll drop him, slam his head into the wood beneath him, but Gabriel's arm tightens from where it lies at his back and what feels like his leg comes up to further hold Dean in place, and there are his hands again, freezing hands grasping his cheek and then wiping the blood out of his eyes.

A protest bubbles its way out of Dean's mouth because Gabriel's hands are in his eyes and they're fucking freezing and Dean has to do something other than lay here.

"Relax," Gabriel's familiar voice speaks into his ear. "Damn… I love it when you're unresponsive." Gabriel moans and Dean tenses again. He's never heard that particular sound come out of Gabriel's mouth, not even after all the nights they spent together growing up. Gabriel was always quiet beneath him, as if even a sound would make everything too real and give him the only excuse he needed to leave Dean hanging. Because it was always Gabriel pushing him away, always Gabriel who was the first to leave while Dean would lay there and be completely willing every single time to never go back to his dad and brother and later just his dad.

It was Dean who only ever had an interest in this, in them.

It's the reason why Gabriel didn't fight to stay put. It's the reason why Dean followed him as he went to summer school. With his own intentions, Gabriel let him into his bed for the first time even though it was a twin and Dean could hardly move around in it, even though it meant that Gabriel's hands were always on him. Then he couldn't sleep and there were wings on the wall, crushing him even though it wasn't real. If it was a way to make Dean leave then fine, but he had woken up without remembering when he fell asleep and Gabriel was gone and there was the note.

If you care

Follow me.

Dean hadn't but it hardly matters now. Gabriel had been stalking him and maybe even led him here with the hunt. Gabriel had most likely knocked him out and given him lasting head damage, even though it makes no sense given that Gabriel's hands are on his head all the damn time. Maybe it's only with a touch that Gabriel can control him, keep him here and trapped in a reality that only feels like more dreams. Make Dean bleed in his dreams.

The murmur seems to come an eternity later, not the same day, not the same moment. "Trying to reverse the damage, if you would just keep still." He hadn't even realized he was moving. It isn't like he can feel anything, not until Gabriel's hands are in his eyes again, then he can feel his own hands shoving them away, without being able to control them or any other part of his body. Why won't Gabriel just leave him the hell alone instead of all this touching? "That thing did a number on you." Gabriel's words again, whirling around in his head.

Yeah, Dean thinks. You.

In the past, Gabriel had always seemed impervious to touch. Like it hardly registered in his brain. Dean rarely touching him but every time he did, Gabriel wouldn't respond. Gabriel would sling an arm around Dean's shoulder or poke him or grab him and push Dean where he wanted him, as if it was all no big deal, even though he knew Dean hated being touched.

Just like now. Gabriel's hands always in his goddamn eyes, as if trying to make something work.

As if trying to make Dean work again.