A/n: My heart is still sore from the loss of Gabriel, so sometimes I like to pretend that he's fine and dandy and kickin' it with the boys.

Consider it disclaimed.

III

In the time after Gabriel joined Team Free Will, Dean made a few unnerving observations.

Firstly, and most forgivably, he ate an unholy amount of sugar. For someone who, in the end, was only secondarily a trickster demigod, he sure had the appetite of one. Dean supposed that after a few centuries, habits stuck, but holy crap. The guy had better be grateful that he was immortal because no human on that diet would still be alive. And the candy wrappers, they were everywhere.

Second, if the Archangel Gabriel had ever been as pure and benevolent as Sunday school might lead a person to believe, then being incognito as a pagan god really did a number on the guy's psyche, and Dean was more than a little worried about their well-being in the presence of an ancient, all-powerful, unhinged lunatic.

Third, and this was the kicker, he and Gabriel were the same person.

He'd admitted to liking the guy's style the first time they'd met him—before he'd known that the Trickster was the Archangel Gabriel, when he was just another monster. Come on, the girls and the admittedly funny jokes, anyone would agree that the dude was memorable.

Dean liked him less after Sammy had told him about the hundred or so times Gabriel had killed him. Now he was just a pain in the ass. A helpful one, but still.

But now that they're practically living together in a car and various motels, Dean has learned a bit more. Gabriel liked a beer after a day of hunting, chases skirts and has a predictably functional wardrobe. He hid behind humor and sarcasm and his sharp tongue when things got sentimental, and he had more daddy issues than could be considered feasible, and he liked to play the detached-but-still-happy-because-screw-you card. And no, Dean didn't think that was on-the-nose at all.

More than anything, Dean watched how Gabriel and Cas acted around each other. When Gabriel first invited himself aboard their sinking ship, Castiel had been understandably ticked off. But, after the first few weeks and after everyone had more or less come to accept his presence, Cas's cold shoulder warmed over a bit, and the tension lessened. And then Dean remembered that the two were actually brothers. Castiel fell into form, so to speak, as an underling of an archangel. It wasn't anything overt, Dean doubted that Cas even knew he was doing it, and it wasn't like he was kneeling at Gabriel's feet or anything. But every so often, Cas would dip his chin when Gabriel looked at him, as a sign of resignation or agreement with what Gabriel had said, Dean didn't know. Cas would watch Gabriel and, too innocently, try to emulate him; his casual nature around Dean and Sam, his energy when dealing with cases, the ease with which he interacted with humans in general. When Castiel would kick a bad guy's butt particularly hard, Dean would catch him stealing glances to Gabriel, as if he were trying to make sure that he'd seen what Cas had done. Which might've been sweet, if Dean wasn't already so weirded out and if Dean actually did "sweet" to begin with. After a frustrated conversation with Sam, and after being laughed at for caring so much, Dean had learned that all of this was just "what little brothers did."

Like Dean would know, he wasn't a little brother.

But he was a big brother. And so was Gabriel.

Gabriel was sucky when it came to caring about other people. Be that as it may, he'd incinerate anything that made Castiel bleed. He made sure he ate, even if it was completely unnecessary, claiming that it was more for his soul than for his body. Dean remembered one time when Gabriel practically held Cas down and brandished a pair of scissors, saying something about Castiel losing his grip on his vessel's hair and being a squirmy fledgeling.

Dean remembers with clarity trapping Lucifer in his cage. So soon after the Elysian Fields incident, it was decided that, seeing as how a full-blown confrontation between archangels was what they were trying to avoid in the first place, Gabriel would wait this one out. Not to mention that if Gabriel alone were to go up against Lucifer, it would end much the same as it had the last time; Lucifer was more powerful than he was, though he was loathe to admit it. So when their little group did what they did and got ready to toss Lucifer back into his cage, and Castiel was already suffering from a lessening of his own angelic mojo, Gabriel was furious. He hovered and fumed about this plan, even though he could't offer a better one. He never once told his brother that he was proud of him, or that he loved him. He didn't offer a man hug or encouraging words. Castiel himself might have been a bit disheartened. But Dean knew better.

Gabriel was worried sick about his baby brother, and sicker still that he couldn't even go with him. Gabriel had shot Cas one last, half-angry and half-desperate look before snapping himself across the globe to wait it out.

Later, after Sam came back from Hell—after even his soul had come back—Castiel mentioned, quite casually, how he'd been obliterated by Lucifer and resurrected apparently by God. And Gabriel friggin' lost it.

Dean didn't understand what they shouted at each other, as the two were shouting in Enochain, but by the look on Sam's face it was a healthy mixture of touching and surprisingly vulgar.

One might call it funny, in a way. But Dean took a good look at Gabriel's face and knew, quite suddenly, that the guy loved his family more than anything. After all that they'd done to him, put him through, he loved his brothers and sisters and he looked at Castiel like he was something precious, even under layers upon layers of anger and cynicism and contempt.

No, Gabriel wasn't what Dean would consider to be a good brother. But then, neither was Dean.

And when Gabriel cracked open the fridge that night, after Dean had had his own mini revelation session, if Dean failed to send him the usual side-eyed look or complain about his inappropriate comments, no one had to be the wiser. And if he accepted the offered bottle from the archangel's hand with a smidgen more trust than he had done so the night before, than maybe, perhaps, one might call that understanding.