Crossing The Inferno: The Fire And The Fall

In the end, Sam jumped into the pit with his own two feet, taking the devil trapped inside his body with him. At first it had been only a vague idea that he mentioned in passing to Bobby, trying to decide whether or not it would be even the tiniest bit plausible. After that he'd pushed it aside so he would not dwell nor rely on it to end the war between the Angels and Demons. He never meant it to become their only option, and he thanked whatever higher power that was too uncaring to interfere that at least, above all else, it had worked.

He knew Dean would cry, scream, yell, and try to make countless deals that would never come to fruition. But it had to be done. They had been losing with no hope of pulling a comeback. It was his choice, and he hoped Dean would forgive him for it some day, though he doubted they would ever meet again.

Sam had known exactly what he had to do once Castiel had stepped in to defend Dean from Michael, the archangel in Adam's body. There had never been any chance that the renegade angel could win such a fight, but the hope that had flared in Dean's eyes had been unmistakable. That, coupled with the anguish as Castiel took two steps back after banishing Michael with the Holy Fire, exploding into a thousand pieces. And there had been no flash of light from Castiel's Grace. Just a heart wrenching look of pain that flickered through Dean's eyes as his mind instantly replayed that moment, over and over. Sam could still see the way his brother had turned his gaze away, swiftly, not wanting to see the blood that covered Bobby and the ground all around them. And then Bobby too fell, his neck snapped in two, probably three places in Lucifer's rage.

He had watched in stunned silence as Dean let him punch him, breaking the windshield of the Impala, his nose, cracking his jaw and skull at least a handful of times. And yet Dean had the courage, had the strength, to look the devil right in the eye and tell the brother trapped inside that he would not leave him alone. Not then, not ever.

That was the only trigger Sam needed, like a gentle nudge down the right path. He broke out of the binds Lucifer held him in, deep in his mind, and cast the Horsemen's Rings onto the ground, struggling to say the Latin chant that would unlock the gate. Save Dean. Save Castiel. Save Adam. Save Bobby. Save the world. And so he'd thrown himself into the pit, knowing it was the only way.

And taken Adam, and Michael, with him. He had never meant for Adam to share his fate, but the archangel in his body refused to let go. Adam was his brother, his one and only little brother. He was supposed to protect him, as Dean had done for him for more years than he could remember. He was supposed to make sure he lived. But between all the lives of the world, and his baby brother he'd still hardly gotten the chance to know, there wasn't much of a choice. Sam wished he could say that as he tugged Adam, no Michael, down into the screaming whirlwinds of Hell that his brother had nodded in understanding, in that way he already memorized as that pretending not to care, trying to be brave way that he'd only ever seen Adam and Dean do. But that may have just been his imagination the moment before they'd tumbled backwards into the waiting Gates of Hell.

Unlike Dean, he'd never experienced Hell in his waking memory, though he knew that he'd died once for long enough that he may have, and he'd merely forgotten. But he never imagined it to be as he saw it now. Falling through various levels of fire, ice, wind, and torture. There were souls chained to the walls and ceilings, the chains stretching out of sight so far that he didn't even know if there were ceilings or walls at all. Souls that were almost demons writhed against their binds, twisting and screaming in his ears as he tumbled past them. And all the while he tried to separate himself from Lucifer, who was beginning to seep out of his body like poison from a wound.

It was then that a palm pressed against his chest, pushing against him as another hand blazed down, gripping the black flames that had wreathed themselves around Sam, Lucifer's essence, tugging each tendril of fire off of him one at a time and throwing them away out of Sam's line of sight. The hand against his chest burned in a way Lucifer's fire didn't, cold and white hot in the same instant, comforting and dangerous. As the last of the flames were torn from his breast a flash of brilliant, nearly blinding light covered his vision, warmth and darkness surrounding him. He arched his back slightly as what was unmistakably, feathers, tickled along his spine, and the wind that had previously whirled around him vanishing entirely, a sudden calm amidst the storms of fire outside the enfolding darkness that held him.

And for a moment, he felt safe.

When Sam regained consciousness, the warmth and darkness still remained, though he realized vaguely that the screams of the damned no longer echoed ominously in his ears in the place he now resided. After wiggling his fingers experimentally, testing whether he had regained control over his own body, he sat up, feeling the rocky ground around him and wincing as he touched a bruise between his shoulders where a particularly sharp rock had jabbed him. Unlike his sibling he had fallen into hell with his whole body rather than just his soul, and the fact that he could still bruise and bleed gave him hope that that meant that in some way, he was still very much alive.

His movement caused the darkness around him to shift, and he blinked in surprise as light feathers brushed curiously along his skin, if feathers could be described as curious. He reached out a hand in their general direction through the darkness, touching them gently, wondering if these were the wings of an angel that had protected him from the fires of Hell and torn Lucifer from his body. The thought pained him, thinking that maybe these were Castiel's wings, and that Dean had not only lost his brother, but his guardian as well because of his own hands. It was a likely possibility, though he tried not to think of it, his brother kneeling on the ground far above, broken and alone.

His heart clenched in fear at the thought that it may be Anna, and he shuddered. She'd almost wiped him from existence entirely a few months back, and he'd rather have Lucifer in his body again than for her to have saved him. It disgusted him to think that these could be her wings he was touching. Or even worse, Zachariah. He all but threw up in his mouth as that image popped into his mind.

But an all too familiar voice roused him from his thoughts, banishing them entirely in an instant. "You're awake then? It's rather tedious for me to sit in this position, you know. And that's saying a lot with all the positions I can do, Sammy. I was almost done working my way through the kama sutra when I bit it."

Sam stiffened as the wings left him, drawing up against the back of the man who was sitting only a few feet away, his head resting in his hands and his hazel eyes glittering with undisguised amusement. It should not have surprised him to see this angel again, really. In fact, he owed everything to him, including Lucifer's defeat and going as far as to include his own life twice over. "Gabriel," he said slowly, unable to hide the shock in his tone.

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, studying the younger Winchester with a glazed look, "Don't sound so surprised, Sammy. Or did you forget that I died protecting your lazy ass."

An annoyed growl escaped Sam, and he tensed, "Don't even start with that. One good deed doesn't make up for a thousand wrong ones."

A small laugh bubbled up from the angel, and Sam stared at him, startled that anyone could have the courage to laugh in the depths of hell. "You mean killing Dean over and over inside the illusion? You know as well as I that that was for your own good, Sam."

Another growl, but Sam did not reply, knowing that the words were truth. It was that illusion made by the Trickster, no, Gabriel's hands, that had snapped him out of it just enough that he didn't end up killing himself after his brother died. A feather brushed against his cheek, but he shied away from it, scowling in confusion and frustration. Of all the angels to get stuck with, he'd almost rather it was Anna. "Why?" he asked suddenly, knowing that the other could discern the meaning without a full question.

Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment before he replied, "Because I'm bored," he said finally, earning a glare from Sam. "And, crazy as it sounds, saving you is something I seem to have already committed to doing." He waved a hand nonchalantly, "That's the thing with you Winchesters, help out one time and you're stuck for life. And unfortunately my life is kinda long."

"But you're dead," Sam pointed out.

"And you're Sam," Gabriel said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "Thank you Caption Obvious. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly dead-dead. You know?" Sam shook his head, and the Trickster sighed, "The DVD, I'm sure you remember it," he grinned. "It was a little too perfect, didn't you notice?" He watched with a smirk as Sam's eyes turned distant, thinking about it. "Angels lose their Grace, Sam, you know that. And for something to be lost, it must have the capacity to be taken away from where it resides, correct? I placed a piece of mine in the Casa Erotica. Just a touch, of course. But enough to tie me to the middle plane."

"Then you can get out?" Sam asked, suddenly feeling his heart race with hope. If Gabriel could find a way out, then why not him as well?

Gabriel laughed openly this time, "Only if I have the right kind of guide." He waited as Sam's face fell before he continued, enjoying the rapid change in emotions on the human's features. "A guide who knows the map of hell."

Sam blinked at the expectant look suddenly directed at him, "Wait . . . You're talking about me?"

"Bingo, Sammy!" Gabriel smiled. "Lucifer was still in your body when you entered, correct? And when I pulled him out, the path should have been burned onto your back. It's like a birthmark the vessels of the devil retain after his departure. It won't look like much to you, but it'll be clear to me."

The hunter made a move as though to take off his shirt, only for his fingers to come in contact with bare skin. "Wh- why the hell am I naked?" he exclaimed, moving to cover himself while his face began to blaze scarlet.

"Because you're in Hell and your clothes burned off," Gabriel deadpanned as though it was unimportant. He snapped his fingers and a pair of jeans suddenly wove themselves around Sam's legs, the brunette sighing with mild relief, though he remained naked from the waist up.

Sam turned to twist his head over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse at the markings that were surely on his back, but finding that he couldn't quite catch sight of them. As he made a reluctant motion for Gabriel to come take a look, he glanced down at his chest only to find a scar of a different kind. A handprint, branded into his skin across his sternum, the place where the angel had pressed against him as he tugged Lucifer free of his body. "Gabriel," he said, taking note of the mark as his tone turned dangerous.

The angel had crouched behind him in the short span of time it had taken Sam to find the mark, and he looked up from his examination of the other's back with a frown. "Oh, stop whining." He shifted his stance, tracing a slow, careful circle near the middle of the hunter's spine, his frown growing more pronounced as he repeated the movement. Sam winced at the touch, his skin feeling sore and tight almost as though he'd been burned as Gabriel continued to trace out a perfect ring on his skin.

"Gabriel-" he started again, biting his lip as the intensity of the angel's fiery touch increased.

"Hush," the archangel snapped in return, making one last round over his spine before he sat back on his heels and simply stared.

Sam craned his neck over his shoulder again, hearing an audible crick in his joints that made him groan. "What is it?" he asked finally, frustrated that he was unable to see this 'map' or whatever it was on his skin.

Gabriel blinked, looking up as if he'd forgotten Sam was there for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he flicked his wrist towards the rocky ground, causing a small, but clear circle to twist it's way through the dirt and stones. "I can only get part of the map to show," he said, annoyance clear in his tenor.

"That's just a circle," Sam said bluntly, at a loss for once. He was used to finding the meanings behind such symbols, translating them if you will. But this was, in every way he looked at it, just a circle in the dirt.

The archangel merely stared at him as though he was stupid, "Ever heard of Dante?"

Realization burst into Sam's mind, his mouth forming into a silent oh. "You're not suggesting that you're Virgil then, are you?" he joked halfheartedly.

A look of mock horror crossed Gabriel's face, "Good god no. Virgil was an ugly little shit to say the least. I gotta keep my handsome style as it is." His small smile fell, "But you've got the basic idea, don't you? This is Dante's Inferno in reverse, Sammy. And it's not gonna be pretty." The angel motioned towards the ring he'd carved into the stone ground, "Right now it seems that we are just outside of the lake, which would make sense since you were intending to fling Lucifer right back where he came from. We'll have to pass him to get out, and I'm not looking forward to it."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, "We're outside of the frozen lake? Then why is the ground so warm?"

"It's Hell, Sammy," the Trickster snorted, "I can't explain how the shit around here works." He stood, brushing off his pants in a carefree manner, his clearly visible wings still tucked against his spine. Sam couldn't help but stare at them, his only visual of angel's wings before being the burned outlines where their Grace was stabbed out of them. Unlike the imprints he'd seen, he was mildly surprised to see that Gabriel possessed not one, but two sets of wings, the first extending from his shoulder blades and flaring out behind him a ways, and the second protruding from an inch or two farther down, their feathers brushing against the back of his knees, both pairs a shade of midnight blue-black that changed with the varying light. The archangel looked up as he caught the viridian gaze on him, a smirk crossing his features, "Now now, Sammy. I'm way too out of your league."

Sam scowled in response, pointedly looking at the ground instead. He jumped slightly as he felt a shirt and a thick coat suddenly settle over him, fitting comfortably on his body in the familiar way of garments of the perfect size, a pair of thick boots following suit. Blinking, he glanced at Gabriel again, but the angel merely shrugged and turned his back, motioning for Sam to follow. "It's gonna be cold," he said nonchalantly, as though that explained the action.

The hunter followed the angel warily over the stony ground until they reached an outcropping of rocks that stairwayed up past his line of sight. He narrowed his eyes, glancing the way they had come in confusion, "If they're the rings of hell, shouldn't we be able to go the other way too?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and flicked his gaze over to him for a moment, "Multiple entrances, Sammy. But only one open exit. I'm sure you remember it."

The younger Winchester's shoulders hunched at the words, recalling the gate hidden inside a graveyard in Wyoming, "Yeah," he confirmed slowly, biting his lip.

"Well, lucky for us that it's still standing, or we'd be stuck here forever. And as one of Azazeal's chosen, it might just be that you can break it open again."

Sam stiffened, "But it's been years since I've been able to do anything like that! I mean . . . Without . . ."

"Without being hyped up on demon mojo, I get it," Gabriel said as though it was hardly one of Sam's darkest moments in life. "And I'm not saying you have to be. We'll come to that fork in the road when we get here." His right wings twitched, flicking towards the rocky outcropping ahead, "Let's just take everything one step at a time, all right? Starting with getting over this shit so we can at least see the damn lake."

The other nodded mutely, subdued into silence by Gabriel's out of place carefree attitude. He supposed that he couldn't expect anything less when it came to the archangel that had formerly posed as a pagan god, but it still seemed strange to him, almost forced. But then again, he'd never been very good a divining Dean's hidden emotions, and as Gabriel had said, both he and Sam's brother were masters of hiding their feelings.

The precipices of rock stretched up overhead as they began their assent. At first, the large stones were haphazardly shoved together, making their climb difficult, but manageable. They could not have been more of a third of the way up when the rocks began to appear jumbled, large jagged gaps left between mountainous boulders and flat slabs. It was only after the hole that was wider than Sam's entire, extremely tall body that he began to worry. "Does this get worse farther up?" he asked breathlessly, standing on the tippy edge of the void and staring down into the darkness below.

"Undoubtedly," Gabriel muttered, gazing straight ahead. Thus far the gaps in their path had proved to be little trouble to him, though he had yet to beat his wings. And Sam had no doubt that this one would be the same.

"Can't you just . . ." He made a motion with his hands out towards the other side of the darkness just beyond his feet.

"Fly you," Gabriel deadpanned, a look in his eyes that dared Sam to respond. "Nice try, but no. Flying requires angelic energy that will leave a clear signal in the air for days just for demons to find, thank you very much."

Sam chewed on his lip for a moment before taking a two strides back on the rock he was currently standing on, charging towards the gap in the next instant in a running leap. His feet hit the stone opposite hard, just barely gripping the edge of it, his heels hanging over into the darkness behind him before he tripped forward, nearly face planting onto the it's surface. He rubbed his now bleeding and probably fractured nose as he glared at the angel, who took only a small hop and a jump to cross that same gap, landing with utmost grace at the hunter's side, a smirk in the corners of his mouth.

"Jerk," Sam growled, pressing his sleeve to his nose to stifle the flow. Gabriel snapped his fingers and Sam felt as though a plug had been shoved up his nostrils, and he sneezed hard, only to note that his nose had ceased bleeding. He frowned, continuing to glare at the other before he muttered a quick, "Thank you." Acknowledging his gratefulness for the angel's presence was the last thing he wanted to consent to, but that happened to be a better option than a never-ending nosebleed.

Gabriel shrugged in reply, taking the lead towards up the towering cliffs. It took a few more hours for the gaps to lengthen much more than the one they'd previously crossed, and it was only after Sam had barely caught onto the edge of one of the rocks with his hand, his body dangling dangerously down into the void below, that Gabriel spoke again. He reached down into the abyss, catching Sam's wrist just before he lost his grip, hauling him up with a grunt of exertion. "Jesus, how much do you weigh?"

Sam reached up his other hand, tangling his fingers around the angel's lower arm as he struggled to gain purchase on the ledge again. Gabriel gritted his teeth and gave one more breathless grunt before heaving him up to safety, the other's weight causing him to topple over backwards into the stone behind him. Sam kneeled on the secure flat rock, chest rising and falling as he gulped down thankful breaths of air.

"Let's stop for the night," Gabriel panted, for the first time a small spark of exhaustion flickering through his eyes.

The other raised an eyebrow, "Night?"

"Night, day, it's all the same here," Gabriel shrugged, leaning back against the boulder behind him and closing his eyes. He patted a hand against the bare stone beside him, "Move over here," he commanded.

Sam frowned at the sudden bossy tone the angel had taken up, but he complied, shifting over to sit beside him, letting his back rest against the same rock. "How long have we been down here?" he asked softly, remembering the difference in time between Hell and Earth as Dean had described it.

Gabriel cast him a sidelong glance, "You? A day or so, which means less than an hour up top. Me? A little over ten years Hell time."

"Isn't it difficult being here?" Sam closed his mouth almost as soon as the question slipped out, realizing that it was ridiculous to ask such a thing.

"You'll find out before we're done," Gabriel whispered in a tone that made Sam shudder. He turned his eyes away once more, staring out over the way they had come with a weary, time worn gaze. "Get some sleep, Sammy," he murmured.

Sam slouched down against the boulder, letting his hands fall to his lap, "What about you?" he asked.

The Trickster smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side, "Don't worry about it. When have you ever seen Castiel sleep, hmm?" Gabriel blinked as Sam gave him a look that clearly said he had, before he shifted and unfolded his wings, veiling the hunter the protective darkness that he'd woken in. "Just sleep. No one can find us this close to the inner circle. I'll keep watch," he promised gently. The hunter tensed briefly as the feathers encircled him, but relaxed once more as he heard the lulling sound of what was unmistakably a horn. Soft and barely audible, it's quite mournful tune carried him into quick but peaceful unconsciousness as he slipped into dreamless sleep.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

I'm getting the feeling that this will be the story I'll be doing the most research for since Little Drop Of Healing. Gabriel's always been a character in Supernatural that has intrigued me, even when he was still known solely as the Trickster. And the fact that he turned out to be the archangel only made my curiosity peak, which was why I was so angsty after his demise. (Though I don't really think he's dead. But let's just say for fic purposes that he is.)

I waited to post this till Swan Song cause I wanted to get it right, instead of blind guessing. But I have to say that even though my lovely Cass is alive . . . I HATE IT! He left! He left! And Sammy's still . . . Arrrrggghhhh . . . They were supposed to end the Lucifer shit! And keep Cass! *pouts* well, I can hear from Misha tomorrow (It's Swan Song night as I write this) on his contract-go-no-go for season 6. I'm still pining for go. If we're continuing with this crap we need Destiel lovin. And we'd need it even w/o Lucifer. = 3= at least guest appearances 5-10 times in season 6 please SERA! Cause we can no longer pray to the god of Kripke. Or Chuck. Damn you Chuck. I hate you now, though I loved you before. You made Cass go away. Get bitchy Raphael to fix Heaven, damn it. Cass should stay HUMAN! Chuck you Meany!

Kay . . . Anywho . . . Ranting done now . . .

So this story will be very mythological, as fan fictions go, with both Gabriel's life and such and the rings of Hell. But I'll try and explain as I go, kay?