Without You I’m Just Cold
This is my secret santa, so very merry Christmas to @nathyfaith!!
Rating: T
Words: 2939
AO3
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The first time Gabriel came into Sam’s room, Sam nearly shot him.
It had been nearly six months since they’d returned from the apocalypse world. Nearly six months since Sam had pushed Gabriel aside and killed his brothers for him, since the bunker had filled with alternate-universe hunters and one depowered archangel, since relative peace had been restored. The only things they’d had to deal with since thanksgiving had been a small pack of rogue werewolves and a run-of-the-mill haunting.
But a lifetime of hunting had left Sam’s nerves frayed to the quick. So when his ears detected the minute creak of his door opening, the padding of footsteps, the strange pressure of another person’s stare, Sam was pointing his gun before he was fully awake. His finger twitched on the trigger as the light flicked on. Gabriel was standing next to his bed, hands raised in surrender, eyes fixed on the barrel.
Sam huffed, lowering the barrel. “Gabriel? What the hell, man?” He whispered loudly.
“Hey there, Sam. Are you pleased to see me or is that a pistol in your pj’s?”
Sam loosened his grip on the gun, rubbing at his eyes. Fuck’s sake. “Could you not have picked a better time to come annoy me? I know angels don’t need to sleep but...”
He looked up and trailed off, getting his first proper look at Gabriel. He was looking distinctly… worn. More threadbare than Sam had ever seen him. Even when he’d come back from Asmodeus, Sam could have sworn that the bags under his eyes hadn’t been quite that deep. His skin was pale.
Sam had known that Gabriel had used nearly all his grace to fend off Michael and close the rift behind them, but Gabriel had waved him off when he’d asked if he was okay, deflecting with a witty quote, and Sam hadn’t had the energy at the time to grill him further. Come to think of it, they hadn’t been seeing much improvement. But Sam had never actually asked what was going on with him these days. Now, looking at the way Gabriel was visibly sagging where he stood, he regretted that.
Gabriel’s eyes darted to his, then away again. The thin veneer of joviality slipped. “Just thought, maybe… Doesn’t matter. Sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
He turned to go.
“Wait.”
Gabriel stopped, one hand on the door. Sam sighed, setting his gun down on the table. “Was it a nightmare?”
Gabriel’s shoulders visibly tensed, and to Sam, that was answer enough.
“No,” he lied tersely, “I’m cold.”
And oh, Sam knew that look- the edgy glancing down, the slight tremor in his hand. The way his eyes kept darting to the corners of the room like he was expecting his nightmares to bleed out of the darkness. He’d been like that, after the cage. When they’d still been sleeping in motels. He’d crept out of his bed in the night, cold and shivering, and slipped in with Dean like he was a little kid again. And Dean had grumbled, but he’d always let him in, shared his warmth.
Gabriel had nobody. And he’d woken up from his own personal hell, terrified and alone and unable to sleep in case he was there waiting for him. And he’d come to the only person who knew what if felt like to go through even a fraction of what he’d been through, desperate for any sort of comfort even if he thought he’d be turned away.
He was still hesitating there, so close to bolting out of the door. For a second, Sam looked at him and felt a terrible pity.
But Gabriel would hate that. Nobody wanted to be pitied.
Sam flicked back the edge of the blanket. “Okay, get in.”
Gabriel visibly perked up. He whipped around, hiding the tiny hope in his eyes behind the usual smirking confidence. “Oooh, Mister Winchester! Didn’t you know you’re supposed to buy a girl dinner first?”
Sam ignored him. There would be no asking him about what he’d dreamed. Not tonight. “You’d better not steal the covers,” he threatened.
Gabriel slipped in beside him, the two of them lying back to back. Sam winced as cold toes pressed against his shins. Okay, so maybe Gabriel hadn’t been entirely lying about the cold thing.
He closed his eyes, and faster than he usually did, he was drifting into sleep.
...
In the morning, Sam woke to the edges of the covers flipped back, and a cold empty spot next to him.
They didn’t talk about it.
.o0o.
The next time was the day that Dean decided that they were celebrating Christmas this year.
They had started decorating in the haphazard, disorganised way that people who have never stayed in one place for long enough to accumulate the intricate family rituals would. Sam hadn’t been convinced. But Dean had been determined to make an event of it.
“Think about it Sammy, it’s the first Christmas since you were four that our lives haven’t been a crapshoot. It’s not perfect, but we’re here, right? Me, and you, and Cas. Charlie, Mom and Jack will be back by then. Hell, even Gabe’s here. Nothing world-ending’s happening. We need to take advantage! Plus,” he looked at the hunters loitering around the library table and lowered his voice, “I think we could all do with a bit of holiday spirit. It’s been a hell of a year.”
So they’d cut down a small fir tree in the woods, and Dean had gone out into town, and come back with a victorious smirk and a hodgepodge of christmas ornaments from Goodwill. They were all awful, obviously, but that wasn’t what mattered, Sam, it’s the principle of the thing!
Cas had even contributed by making a string of paper chains, his brow furrowed as he sat at the library table and glued each ring closed with a level of concentration that suggested he was casting some reality-altering spell rather than making Christmas decorations. He didn’t seem to notice as Dean slipped a headband with a bouncy star attached to it behind his ears.
Gabriel wandered in as Sam was starting to feel particularly put-upon, reindeer horns perched on his head, tinsel draped over his arms as Dean searched for the next ridiculously tacky item from the box.
“Hey Gabe.”
“Sam! What’s Deano up to? I thought covering the bunker in glitter was meant to be my job.”
“Aha!” Dean straightened up, the pompom on his elf-shaped hat flopping comically as he brandished a large angel-shaped tree topper. “Perfect! Get it Sam? We’ve got fake angels and real angels! At least this isn’t gonna try and smite us!” Sam rolled his eyes. Out of the corner of his vision he saw Gabriel shift uncomfortably. Dean turned to Castiel, holding out the doll for a better reaction. “What do you reckon, Cas?” “That decoration is a deeply inaccurate stereotype,” Cas commented without even looking up from gluing his fingers together. “Those wings would never support interdimensional flight.”
“Spoilsport. Hey Sam! Stick that up there, would you? It’s about your height. Or, wait,” Dean’s eyes lit up with humour, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “How about you, Gabe, this is your time of year-”
But Gabriel was gone. Sam turned just in time to see his heels vanish down the corridor towards the bedrooms.
Dean’s hand dropped to his side. Sam could have sworn he saw the tip of his hat droop. “What’s up with him?”
Cas’ eyes were fixed on the door. “He’s not what he once was.”
Dean scratched his chin where stubble was beginning to grow. “Yeah, but he’s getting better right? His grace’ll recover.” Castiel’s face scrunched into a grimace. Sam felt his heart sink.
“He’s… he’s not getting it back, is he?” He said quietly. “Possibly not,” Cas said quietly. “The longer it goes on, the less likely it is that it will start regenerating.”
Ah.
Eventually they went back to decoration, but even Dean was more subdued now. Neither of them had really considered that Gabriel’s grace might be gone for good.
Sam fully expected not to see Gabriel until the next day. Often, when he got into one of his quiet moods, they might not see him for days, or only his heels as he nipped to the kitchen to search for food at odd hours of the night. But when Sam stumbled to his room, rubbing glitter off his face and his stomach warm with Dean’s special brand of eggnog, there was a figure perched on the end of his bed.
“Gabriel?”
Gabriel crossed his arms. “Don’t look at me like that, Sam. Your room is the only warm one in this whole damn place. Dean can stuff his why-is-the-heating-on schtick, I can’t stay in that icebox you call my room another night.”
His tone was joking, but there was something tense as a bowstring underneath it. Something unsure. Clearly he didn’t want to be alone. Sam shrugged and went to rummage for a shirt to sleep in, hoping that being casual might alleviate the stress before Gabriel snapped himself in half with it. “Well you can stay with me tonight, it’s not an issue.”
“Why did you two have to set up shop in a concrete bunker?” Gabriel groused to fill the air as Sam got changed. “The whole damn place is a heat sink. My feet are cold as soon as they touch the floor in the morning.”
Sam hummed, still not commenting on the elephant in the room. He flicked off the main light, leaving only the dim illumination of the numbers of his alarm clock, glaring orange in the darkness. “We’ll have to get you a rug or something. Don’t want you losing toes just because we have concrete floors.”
Gabriel grunted in agreement, shifting a little closer. Sam lay still and closed his eyes. He could feel the tension in Gabriel’s body beside him. Like he was being pulled in two directions, hung drawn and quartered by his own indecision. The silence stretched. Despite the sensation of Gabriel’s attention fixed on him form just a few inches away, Sam started to dose.
“Hey. Thank you.” Sam startled a little. He hadn’t expected Gabriel to say anything at all, let alone something that sounded so serious and sincere. He opened his eyes again, blinking up at the ceiling in the darkness. “No… No problem.”
“It’s not… I’m not used to it. Having people there.” Gabriel said quietly. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Sam could read between the lines. Gabriel wasn’t used to having anyone there at all who cared about him. His brothers had tried to kill him, been sold into slavery by someone who thought he was his friend. Honestly it was a miracle he was here now.
“You know it doesn’t matter, right?” Sam whispered into the dark. “If you never get it back. You’ll always have a home here.”
Gabriel didn’t respond other than going stiff, but Sam hadn’t expected him too. Under the blanket, he let his hand find Gabriel’s, winding their fingers together in a gesture of unspoken solidarity. Gabriel startled as their fingers touched, but after a moment, he gave a hesitant squeeze, body relaxing a little. Sam hesitated for a moment, considering, then scooched over a few inches, until they were pressed together, just their sleep shirts between them. He could feel Gabriel’s toes freezing against his calf.
He felt a slow exhalation against his collar, but Gabriel didn’t move away. Sam closed his eyes, hiding a smile in the dark.
...
When he woke the next morning, Gabriel was gone again. But the depression in the mattress was still warm, and there was still a phantom sensation of fingers, holding tight to his.
.o0o.
The third time, Sam went to him.
Of course there had to be a call-out to a case on Christmas Eve. It was inevitable. It was even more inevitable that it would be a tentacle monster, and that it would be drowning people in a frozen lake.
“You know, when I said I wanted a white Christmas, this isn’t what I imagined,” Dean grumbled. Even if Sam had wanted to respond, he wasn’t sure he could without his chattering teeth biting off his tongue. He shivered again under his mound of blankets.
As soon as they crunched their way to a stop Dean bundled him out of the impala and towards the warmth of the open door of the bunker. Sure enough, snow was falling in thick flakes around them, blanketing the ground as they carefully made their way inside.
Gabriel glanced up from where he was painstakingly carving a dick into the library table, then frowned.
“What the hell happened?” Dean waved him off where he was halfway to standing, ushering Sam shakily down the stairs.
“Don’t worry, nothing serious. He’s just cold is all. Monster was a little more handsy than we’d thought.” Gabriel’s worried eyes didn’t leave Sam all the way into the corridor. Dean guided him to the bathroom and shoved him in with a reassuring hand to the middle of his back.
“Go on, take a hot shower. I’ll get dinner going, God knows the rest of the hunters can’t cook and I don’t trust mom with more than heating up soup after the last time she tried to bake.”
Sam stayed in the shower for almost an hour, but as soon as the water shut off, he was shivering again. Cold. He cursed under his breath as he wrapped himself in the largest towel he could find and shuffled towards his bedroom. Sometimes this happened- he would be chilled to his core, and no number of drinks or hot water bottles could warm him up. As though his soul had been reminded of the chill of Lucifer’s touch, and couldn’t forget it again.
He rummaged until he found the thickest shirt he had, and then a sweater, sliding it over his head with shaking fingers. He could just get into bed, shiver to himself for hours until he fell asleep.
Or…
Could he? Would Gabriel mind? Another tremor set his teeth chattering again, and that made his decision for him. Before he could doubt himself, Sam pulled his door open and marched himself down the corridor, pausing outside Gabriel’s room.
“Come on in!”
Slowly, Sam pushed open the door. He hadn’t been in here since Gabriel had claimed it. It was slightly cluttered, pictures on the walls, knick-knacks on every surface. The room was dimly lit by the buttery light of a lamp, enough illumination for Gabriel to read his book where he was curled up on top of the covers. The thick rug on the floor gave the place a homely look.
As he came in, Gabriel put his book down and quickly slipped off his reading glasses (he needed glasses? Sam hadn’t noticed), beckoning him in and pulling the covers off the bed so Sam could get under them.
“Dad above, Sam, get in before you freeze solid. I can see you shivering from here. You’re making me feel cold just looking at you.”
Sam stepped forwards, burrowing his way under the blankets, any embarrassment burnt away by the chill inside. He heard Gabriel tut next to him.
“Can’t get warm? Here, take this sweater off, it won’t help if you aren’t making heat. Basic laws of thermoregulation, Sammy, I thought you went to Stanford?”
Sam tried to help as Gabriel peeled him out of his sweater, but his arms were shaking too much to do more than be a nuisance, so eventually he gave up and let him do what he wanted. But it still came as a shock when Gabriel burrowed under the blankets with him, pressing them chest-to-chest. Sam tensed in surprise.
“Uh…” Gabriel turned his head to look him sternly in the eye. “This is medical cuddling, Winchester, so suck it up. Body heat transfers are gonna warm you up faster than letting you shiver yourself into a coma. And don’t even think about lying and saying you’re fine- I can feel your fingers and they’re like fucking icicles.”
Sam hesitated. The warmth was amazing, as was the feeling of another friendly living body so close to his, but he couldn’t help feeling as though he was taking advantage. “You don’t… need to, you know. If it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t owe me or anything like that.” Gabriel was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was more subdued. “I know. But it feels good, doesn’t it? Helping. I realise now why you and your brother spend so much time on it.” He chuckled ruefully. “Being able to help… it’s a powerful thing. I might not be able to do much these days. But I can still do this.”
Sam relaxed. Gabriel was right. They would help each other and they would make it through. Together.
They’d been through so much, both of them, but they were here, and they were alive. Tomorrow morning they’d be woken by the smell of cinnamon rolls and warm laughter and Jack’s childish excitement, and Dean’s horrified shouts when he unwrapped the distinctly phallic package that Sam had seen Gabriel hide under the tree.
His family.
“Thank you,” He whispered. Gabriel slipped their fingers together and squeezed his hand.
And, for the first time in a long time, Sam was warm.
