Title: For Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves

Character(s)/Pairings(s): Dean/Gabriel, Crowley, Azazel, John Winchester, Sam Winchester

Rating: R

Warnings: Violence, mild sexual content, and canon character deaths (occurring in a way different from canon). Depending on your perspective, might also have consent issues because of important decision-making by a child.

Spoilers: General up to Season 5

Summary: "You're too late, buddy." "Why's that?" "Because, Azazel," Gabriel drawls, "Dean here sold his soul a long, long time ago." Gabriel is a demon who doesn't want the Apocalypse to play out.

The hotel room door clicks open and shut behind him, but Gabriel ignores it for the time being, mentally slicing open from wrist to elbow the arm of the woman pinned spread-eagled to the wall. Blood drips from the wound, a sluggish trickle because the body has been bleeding out for a while now, soaking into the already saturated carpet below and contributing to the thick metallic scent in the air. Too weak now to even whimper, the woman's eyelids merely flutter, head lolling down onto her chest listlessly, tips of long blonde hair stained crimson.

Bored after hours of playing, he casually snaps the human's neck with a snap of his fingers, releasing his will to let the corpse tumble gracelessly to the floor, a pale lifeless canvas of precise incisions splashed liberally with red.

His sneakers meet a brief resistance when he lifts them, separating from the blood-drenched carpet with a squelch. He makes wet squishy noises as he strolls back towards the bed Dean has sprawled out in, leaving a trail of bloody shoeprints across the room. Toeing off his shoes, he throws himself onto the bed, chortling as he lands directly on his lover's chest, elbow digging into his stomach and earning an annoyed grunt.

"Gabriel…" Dean says warningly, but he only grins and wriggles up to kiss the other on the lips. A calloused hand reaches up to his neck to hold him in place, and the two exchange lazy kisses for several minutes, Gabriel feeling loose and languid after a kill and Dean willing to indulge him.

"Couldn't stay out of trouble for a few hours, huh?"

"She knocked over my milkshake and had the nerve to blame me!" Gabriel says, indignant voice muffled against Dean's neck. "'sides, you're one to talk, you totally took it out on that biker the other night."

"He scratched my baby!"

In response, he bites down on the skin against his lips, feeling Dean's breath catch. He worries his teeth in further, breaking skin and tasting blood, coppery and familiar.

"Gabe." His name is growled this time, and he removes his mouth, getting up to straddle the other man's hips and wriggling again with more purpose. Hands try to reach for him, but Gabriel catches Dean's wrists and pins them down to the covers. It should be absurd for him to be able to hold someone of Dean's size down with no effort, but neither of them are exactly human, and as strong as Dean has been getting, he's still no match for Gabriel.

"So, Deano." He grinds down onto Dean, grinning as he pants and swears. "How was your little trip? Sammy doing okay?"

"Same old," Dean grits out, fighting futilely against Gabriel's hold. "Azazel's kids still hanging around him like leeches."

"Mmm." He watches Dean, not relenting until he finally loses control, eyes clouding over black. Only then does he release his lover to let them meet together in a delicious tangle, dark and hungry, knowing that his own eyes have flashed white.

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When Dean Winchester is ten years old, he goes missing for a month and a half.

His father eventually tracks down the human kidnapper, rescuing his son and freeing other abducted children. John and Sam Winchester are relieved to have Dean back, and with no evidence of the supernatural, the incident is put aside and the family resumes their life on the road.

Aside from hunts or training, John doesn't pay attention to Dean as much as he should, and so misses how from that day onwards Dean will carefully avoid touching salt or holy water with his bare hands, and how Dean will manipulate his oblivious little brother into breaking a line of salt or a Devil's Trap.

Gabriel stalks the edges of the Winchesters' life, feeling protective, possessive and just a little empty in spite of or maybe because of fifteen years spent with his companion.

Dean is his, will always be his. Everyone else just doesn't know it yet.

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Dean scowls as the voicemail from Sammy ends, flipping the cell closed. Seated next to him at the bar, Gabriel raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"Azazel's made his move. Jess is dead, and Sammy's left Stanford to meet up with Dad."

Gabriel drains his Daiquiri and finishes the last of the M&Ms he'd been snacking on, hopping off the stool. "That's my cue. You sticking with the humans?"

"Nah. Meeting point's at Blue Earth." Dean's strong enough now that holy ground doesn't bother him, but it's an old habit to avoid Pastor Jim, who will almost certainly sense something off about him. It's easier to just avoid the church entirely.

They take the Impala, because of the few things Dean retained of his humanity, his attachment to junk food, the Impala, and his little brother are the most significant. The first two aren't anything to worry about; heck, his own sweet tooth is something Dean ribs him mercilessly about, and Sam Winchester – well, they'll see about that soon enough.

Crowley is as paranoid as ever, his mansion surrounded with all kinds of anti-intruder and protection wards. Grudgingly tipping a metaphorical hat in the crossroads demon's direction, and seeing no other way in, they punch a hole straight through the wards and saunter in through the front door. Dean splits off, melting into the shadows soundlessly.

Two minutes in, the demon minions finally stop attacking Gabriel, an implicit invitation, so he approaches the study where he can sense Crowley's presence.

"Gabriel, what a surprise." Crowley's hand clutching a glass of whisky is trembling ever so slightly from where he's sitting behind the mahogany desk.

"Sorry about the wards," he responds cheerfully, dropping into a regal-looking but surprisingly comfortable armchair.

"Not a problem, but you should have called ahead, I would have loved to have you over for dinner."

"Next time, maybe. I like red velvet cake and coconut cream pie, by the way." He nods at the two nervous-looking demons standing guard next to Crowley. "How about you send the kiddies out so the adults can have a chat."

It's not a request, and Crowley is smart enough to realise that, dismissing his guards swiftly. "I assume from the fact that I haven't been sent back to Hell that you're here for a purpose."

Gabriel examines Crowley critically, but he's thought this over for years now, decades, ever since he first laid eyes on a human Dean Winchester. So he lays it out for the crossroads demon; it's a simple plan which involves getting rid of a few key demons.

"And why," Crowley stands and circles around the desk to approach him slowly, sipping from his glass and gaining courage with each step, "would I want to help you? I'm Lilith's right-hand man, I could just bring this information straight to her after you kill me. Gabriel, one of the top dogs in demon hierarchy who went missing several decades ago, plotting against the leader of Hell. How utterly scandalous."

"I didn't go missing, Lilith knows I like to wander around and get myself lost on purpose just to have something to do. And look at yourself living it up in this big fancy house with your servants and whisky and tailored suits. You don't want Daddy Dearest stuck in his prison cell to destroy Earth, you like it exactly as it is now, just like me." Gabriel conjures a lollipop, smirking when Crowley twitches at the snap of his fingers. "Oh, by the way, about your threat of bringing this to Lilith… I have ways of trapping you on Earth for eternal torment. Just a friendly reminder."

Crowley stares at him, looking like he's eaten something sour; Gabriel knows reluctant resignation when he sees it. "How the blazes do you think this is feasible? Sure, killing Lilith first will void the last Seal, but there're entire armies of demons between here and her hidey-hole in Hell, and speaking of which, we have to somehow get into Hell, when every demon wants to do the opposite!"

"Don't worry about getting in and out, I have my ways." He waves his hand about carelessly. "Besides, ganking Lilith is a nice bonus, but not the main priority. I just need you to build up enough of a presence here to stamp out Azazel's kids and Lilith's supporters."

"Not the main priority? How is voiding the Seals not a main priority? Unless you're planning to go after the Winchesters, in which case I wish you all the luck, rumour says they're as hard to kill as cockroaches."

Right on cue, the door to the study swings open, and Dean ambles in, the hosts of the demon guards outside lying dead on the floor. "I really hope your buddies downstairs are tougher than the ones here, because frankly they were embarrassing excuses for demons."

"Who the hell are you?" demands Crowley, looking like he's had enough of unexpected visitors for the day, eyes flicking down to the new arrival's blood-wet hands.

Smiling broadly, Gabriel vanishes the lollipop and goes over to Dean. "This is the ace up my sleeve. Dean, Crowley. Crowley, Dean."

"Dean. Dean Winchester?" Crowley's grip on his glass becomes white-knuckled.

"Just Dean is fine. I don't go by my human last name anymore." Dean bares his teeth in a predatory grin, flashing demonic eyes.

"Oh, bloody hell."

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Gabriel kills Dean quickly without fanfare when the deal is made, a merciful snap of the boy's neck, no elaborate show with baying hellhounds and messy insides spilling out. He waits for the invisible contract written on both of their skins to disappear, fulfilled, before carefully fixing Dean's injury and arranging him in the stasis circle that will keep the corpse fresh for repossession. Then he leaves a trail of breadcrumbs for Papa Winchester to follow, a trail that will takes weeks to follow to the end.

That done, he slips through a gap in reality to Hell, ready to spend the first of many years with his Dean.

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"Nervous?" Gabriel leans idly against the Impala as Dean arms up from the trunk. Not really a necessity for him anymore since killing is as easy as thinking it, but habits are hard to break, and besides, guns and knives can make a kill delightfully personal.

"Not at all. Should I be?"

"Aww, my little boy's all grown up," he teases, drifting over to his lover as Dean slams the trunk closed with a roll of his eyes.

He still remembers a human child with keen eyes and an unbreakable spirit. Gabriel had treasured that fierce soul, had loved stripping the humanity away to reach its core, whole and unbroken. And that had been the point; Dean had gone with Gabriel willingly with full knowledge of the repercussions, leaped into the abyss with unwavering resolve. Dean is corrupted in the best possible way, dark facets gleaming sharply, but he didn't break.

"Don't go soft on me now, old man," breathes Dean, sliding his arms around him and leaning in for a kiss that has a little too much emotion for two demons. But then, Gabriel has always been too sentimental for his kind despite being cruel and ruthless in all the right ways. It figures that his own creation isn't typical either.

"Never," he murmurs back. A lie and they both know it.

Together with a batch of Crowley's demons, they spread out to surround the secluded cabin Azazel has cornered the Winchesters in. Dean makes a curt hand signal, and as one, a dozen demons descend from the treeline, falling upon Azazel's minions standing guard outside the cabin.

It's swift and brutal, a wave of death and destruction. Gabriel laughs as he guts a demon, and Dean is only a few feet away, knife flashing silver and deadly before him. The coppery scent of fresh-spilt blood fills the clearing as each strike goes through flesh and bone. It's a familiar, comforting dance, and the clearing soon fills with smoke as the demons escape ruined hosts.

Muffled voices can be heard shouting inside the cabin as he and Dean finally reach it. With manic glee, Gabriel gestures and rips the door off its hinges, sketching a bow as he steps aside to let Dean lead. This is his show, after all.

"Drama queen," Dean mutters fondly. Gabriel blows a kiss as his lover enters the suddenly silent cabin.

"Dean?" exclaims both John and Sam Winchester. From his hidden position outside the doorway, Gabriel can spy Sam kneeling and hunched over, blood trickling past his lips as John is immobilised against a wooden wall by Azazel.

The yellow-eyed demon looks and sounds delighted, the smarmy bastard. "Dean, Dean, Dean, I've been wondering where you were. It seems like the rest of your family lost track of you a few months ago, and that really disappointed me. I had to start this party without you!"

Dean shrugs blithely. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

The Winchesters stare, confused by Dean's attitude, while Azazel merely chuckles. "Since you're here, Dean, maybe you can help me out…"

The demon tilts his head towards Sam, who clutches at his stomach and starts coughing up more blood. John shouts in rage, straining uselessly against Azazel's hold.

"See, I've offered to just leave your family alone and heal Sam up new and shiny. All I want is a deal with your daddy and I can just go away, you'll never have to see me again." Azazel claps his hands together, a flawless mask of geniality. "Now that you're here, I'll extend you the same offer. Before your brother coughs up his lungs, how about you deal with me? Your soul for his, nice and simple."

"Leave my sons out of this!" John yells. "Dean, don't do it!"

"John, your sons were already involved even before they were born. Now quiet. Let your boy decide for himself." John's mouth snaps shut, the demon smiling winsomely at Dean as Sam gasps in the background. "How about it, son?"

Dean smiles back, lazy and dangerous like a feline, beginning to pad forwards towards Azazel. "You're too late, buddy."

Azazel gestures at Dean, eyes narrowing when nothing happens, but still not recognising the trap closing in around him. "Why's that?"

"Because, Azazel," Gabriel drawls as he finally makes his appearance, everyone except Dean's attention sharply drawn to him, "Dean here sold his soul a long, long time ago."

Finally, finally, Azazel takes a closer look at Dean and comprehends the noose tightening around his own neck. "No. No. Gabriel, what did you do?"

The Colt is in Dean's hands, summoned from Azazel's pockets, and in a split second, everything is over. The demon collapses, lightning arcing through his body from the bullet embedded between his eyes.

"Saved the Righteous Man, saved the world, that's what I did," he informs the dead body. He strolls over to Sam Winchester and raps the kid on the head with his knuckles, healing up his insides. The ungrateful brat scrambles away from him, grabbing at his father, who's pointing a gun at Dean.

"Get out of my son," John snarls.

"You really don't get it, do you, Winchester?" Gabriel scoffs. "This is Dean. This has been him for the last twelve years."

Dean ignores John's fury and Sam's horrified realisation, tucking the Colt away securely. Gabriel finds a patch of wall to lean against to watch the finale.

The gun drops from John's suddenly limp fingers as Dean appears in front of him, hands buried elbows-deep in the man's abdomen. Slowly, he drags out fistfuls of gory viscera with a wet noise as John gurgles in shock and agony.

Gabriel presses the younger Winchester back, blocking the burgeoning flares of power he's unknowingly giving off. Sam is screaming wordlessly, horror etched over his face. Dean may want his brother alive, but he certainly doesn't care what he thinks, and that realisation makes the last of Gabriel's doubts fade away. Dean is his, and yeah he's known that all along, but every demon's got his issues, okay?

"It's not personal," he assures Sam. "Just tying up loose ends."

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"You don't have any idea what a special snowflake you are, do you?"

"My dad told me not to talk to strangers," Dean responds snidely. His soul burns bright and righteous, and Gabriel feels a long-dead part of his heart ache with want.

"Hey, how about this. We go sit at that bench there with people all around us, and you listen to me for fifteen minutes. If at the end you don't believe what I told you, you just walk away. No harm, no foul."

Dean squints suspiciously at him, and Gabriel looks back steadily. Finally, the little hunter nods, whatever gut instincts he's relying on satisfied.

"You got a name?"

"Just call me Gabriel."

END

"Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die."

The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde