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Story: They Call You Gabriel
Author: Hecatess | @hectatess
Beta: MiaNovak | @mianovak
Artist: @melle-otterwise
Rating: Mature
Major Warnings: None
Word Count: 6,627
Tags: Canon Divergent, Stanford Era to Season 3, Gabriel and Castiel are the Winchester Guardian Angels, but undercover
Side Characters | Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester | Light Gabriel/Sam Winchester, and even lighter Castiel/Dean Winchester
Summary: Sam is happy as a student, even when it means working in a coffee shop. Then he gets this weird, memorable customer. And still he forgets him. Gabriel can’t help himself. He has to visit his charge while he is working, even if he has to clear his memory.
Years later, he is literally hiding under a pseudonym in a cave in the mountains, when Sam appears, looking for a way to help his brother retrieve his soul contract.
Snippet:
Sam laughed softly as the door shut behind her. “Thank you kindly, sir. How may I help you?” The man took off his sunglasses and Sam was mesmerised by eyes the colour of sunshine through whiskey. They beautifully completed the handsome face they were set in. Sam felt his gut tighten, even though his hunters instincts were a bit dulled by the three years at Stanford. “How much is it to fill a venti cup completely with espresso?” The man’s face was deathly serious, not even a twinkle in those golden eyes. Sam blinked. “Um… excuse me?” The man flicked his hand at the venti cup in the size display, then at the espresso picture on the menu. “This, full of that. How much?” he repeated without venom or talking down. Sam tried to shape the idea in his head. “Well… I’ll have to convert a bit. I only have a quad button for espresso. Not really a given price for…” He did a quick metal burst of mathematics. “Twenty ounces of espresso in a single… cup…” The sheer amount of caffeine and shots made his voice waver again. The man hung his glasses from the collar of his shirt and shrugged. “Price isn’t even close to on my mind right now. Just tell me how many ‘add shots’ it is.” A kind of primal fear traipsed up Sam’s spine as he did the next calculation. “So that will be a quad with…” He swallowed, his dry throat uncooperative. “Sixteen added shots of espresso. Sir, with that many shots, your drink will turn pretty bitter waiting for all twenty to be pulled.” A direct, solemn stare. “Taste doesn’t matter in the least for me.” The primal fear solidified in Sam’s gut and fired warnings to his brain. Someone ordering this concoction had to be something supernatural, if not eldritch. His instincts joined the primal fear and started listing off ways to get out of there unscathed.
Posting Date: August 6th



















