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“I’m not strong enough.”
Gabriel hated how true that was. How true it had always been.
Loki was right.
Gabriel hadn’t been strong enough to handle his brothers fighting; he’d tucked tail and ran instead. His grand stand in the name of humanity had just been falsified trickery, because Gabriel wasn’t strong enough to face his brother. Heaven’s survival rested on Gabriel’s shoulders, and he doubted he was strong enough to carry the weight.
Gabriel had never been strong enough, and twice now Sam had paid the price. Twice now, Sam had suffered due to Gabriel’s flaws, fallen into the hands of the corrupted Morningstar.
It had been Sam who’d pulled him from his own abyss, Sam’s voice hooked into his very being, dragging him back into reality. It had been Sam who’d believed in him when everyone else saw a lost cause. It had been Sam who’d helped him exact vengeance, even though he still expected Gabriel to run.
Sam had pulled Gabriel out of his mental hell and guided him onto the road to recovery.
Gabriel had repaid Sam by watching as the blood spurted from his torn neck.
The thrum of grace had crackled beneath his fingers, but Gabriel knew it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. At full power, hell, even at half power, Gabriel could’ve curled his fingers around Sam’s cracked soul before it escaped, pushed it back through Sam’s ribs, watched as Sam’s heart fluttered back to life.
This barely human state had forced him to watch as the soft glow of Sam’s soul was snatched away, utterly useless, plunging the tunnel into a familiar darkness.
Guilt surged through him, curling tight around his lungs, stealing every unnecessary breath.
Gabriel hadn’t asked Asmodeus to tear into the very fibre of his being for years on end, hadn’t asked to be used as little more than prized cattle and treated far worse, but it didn’t stop the guilt. It didn’t stop the self-loathing monologue in Gabriel’s head, pointing out how his older brothers wouldn’t have ended up as demonic chew toys. Would’ve found a way to escape. Would’ve been strong enough for a simple resurrection.
Sam had saved him, but Gabriel hadn’t been strong enough to save Sam.
Threaded through the overwhelming guilt was a selfish fear that he was alone now. Sam had understood in a way no-one else had, recognising his own trauma in Gabriel’s eyes. Sam hadn’t given up on him, even when Gabriel jabbed and pushed and snarked and ran.
Sam had cared about him in a way Gabriel hadn’t felt in a long time, genuine, warm and empathetic.
When Gabriel saw Sam step into the camp, bloodied and barely holding it together, he made a promise to himself. No matter what, he wouldn’t let Sam pay for his weakness again.
Never again.