Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was only the ghost of a rumor that brought Sam out of the bunker and following down this barely-there trail. However, anymore even the ghost of a rumor was enough to check out. Anything that might give them any sort of lead on any of the problems the Winchester brothers were trying their hardest to solve. Heaven’s gates were closed, Castiel was running on low power, Abaddon was still running free, and Dean seemed to be getting worse and worse with every passing day with that Mark on his arm. Sam would follow up anything that might help him on those.

Rumors about someone who had quite a vast knowledge of angels was why Sam was out today. It was also why he hadn’t tried to involve either Dean or Castiel on this.

Dean… well, hunting with Dean was a bit risky right now. He was too volatile to take on something that might require a more delicate touch. The Mark had too much control over him, no matter what he said otherwise. He was more likely to try and get some answers through his fists and not through words, like Sam would. And it didn’t seem like it would be a smart plan to bring a barely-powered angel out on a hunt for someone who might have vast knowledge of angels and Heaven – enough to be able to help them open Heaven’s gates once more. Granted, it’d be a good idea to have Castiel there just to be able to help confirm or deny some things, to test if this person really was as knowledgeable as rumors claimed, but at the same time Sam didn’t want to get their friend’s hopes up – and he wasn’t quite sure how an angel might react to someone who had that kind of knowledge.

That was why Sam was here alone, staring up at this ramshackle house, hoping that this wasn’t going to turn out into yet another bad lead. Unfortunately, it was starting to look that way.

Sam knocked on the door that looked like it might fall apart underneath his fist. Was this really the home of someone who was supposed to have so much knowledge? It made sense, he guessed. Sort of. If he had that kind of knowledge on angels he wouldn’t exactly make himself easy to find, nor would he be someplace that people might actually look. But he also didn’t think that he’d stay somewhere like this.

Instincts that had been trained over years and years of being a hunter were starting to whisper in the back of his mind that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Trouble, that part of him whispered. This is trouble. Go!

Sam had just turned away from the door when it started to open.

Light surrounded him and Sam let out a low cry, reacting with the same instincts that had told him to get away. He closed his eyes and threw an arm up to block the light even as he jumped to the side and tried to get away.

Weight pressed in all around him, the very air feeling as if it’d gained mass, and Sam found himself pinned down to the ground. The light was still there, too damn bright, and something was ringing in his ears. Angel. That’s an angel.

“You’ve proven to be a lot more of a thorn in my side than I’d expected.” A voice said above him, around him, inside of him. “I think it’s time we took you out of this story and let you play in a new one.”

There was another push on the weight around Sam and then the light flashed brighter than ever. Sam’s scream felt caught in his throat as the world compressed around him like it did in angelic flight, only a thousand times worse.

There was no finding his feet as Sam landed wherever it was that he’d been dropped. Unprepared for it, he hadn’t had a chance to brace and he landed hard; he hit and just kept going, body crumpling down to the ground and tumbling a few times before his side crashed hard against something and he came to a rather abrupt and painful stop. Immediately Sam curled in on himself and cradled his ribs with one hand, groaning at the ache that he knew would probably turn into a rather spectacular bruise.

He realized almost immediately that he wasn’t alone. No sooner had he curled in than he heard a familiar voice shouting out “What the hell?” The sound of it made Sam’s head pound and he groaned, bringing his other hand up to cover his eyes and try to combat the headache that roared to life. God, he hated angelic travel sometimes! Especially when the angel in question was a giant douche who didn’t give a damn about how the one he was flying was going to land. Considering the voice he’d heard before he flew, it wasn’t all that surprising that his flight and landing were less than gentle.

There was the sound of movement and then suddenly that familiar voice was saying “Holy shit – Sam?”

Sam knew that voice. Even in pain, he knew that voice. “Dean.” The word came out like a croak and Sam had to battle past the headache and a slight swell of nausea just to be able to open his eyes. If Dean were here, it couldn’t be that bad. No matter what else was going on between them being around Dean was safe. He could trust his brother. He could!

Planting his hands on the ground, Sam pushed himself up to a sitting position. He attempted to open his eyes and quickly snapped them shut again when the light stabbed at him like thousands of tiny little needles. Okay, that was a no-go on open eyes. Sam drew in a careful breath, grimacing when his chest and side both throbbed.

When he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up he pushed himself up the rest of the way and then, with his one hand braced on the wall and the other still holding his bruised side, he climbed achingly to his feet. “Dude,” He groaned out, rubbing at his face. “I get why you hate angelic travel. That sucked.” Cautiously, slowly, he blinked his eyes open little by little, until he was sure that the light wasn’t going to kill him anymore. Once his eyes were open all the way, Sam got one look in at his brother – and took note of the fact that he had somehow managed to end up back at the bunker – and he froze. Because that… that wasn’t Dean. Or, not his Dean. He didn’t look…right. Sam looked at his face and it took him a second to place what was different. There were less lines around his eyes. The tension that Sam had gotten used to seeing on Dean all the time wasn’t there anymore. He looked… younger. Younger and more at peace. It made Sam suddenly feel years older than he was.

Dean was looking him over at the same time and Sam could see as his features hardened. His brother took a step back and put his hand towards the back of his pants where Sam knew he always kept a gun. “You’re not my Sam.”

That was an understatement. A bad feeling was settling in Sam’s gut. ‘I think it’s time we took you out of this story and let you play in a new one’. That’s what the voice had said. Sam straightened himself up a little more and tried not to lean so heavily on the wall. “No I’m not.”

Dean’s response was the last thing that Sam had expected. Or, at least, half of it was. “Son of a bitch. Cas! Gabe!”

Gabe? As in...Gabriel? Sam’s mouth dropped open. There was no time to wonder or marvel over it, though. One second he was gaping at Dean, who had pulled out his gun and was holding it at the ready, and the next second two angels appeared at Dean’s sides. Castiel and….Gabriel. Gabriel. He was here. He was alive. Sam’s stomach clenched and he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. What kind of world had he been tossed into?

The strange thing was, Gabriel seemed to be looking at him with just as much confusion and surprise. “Sammy?”

That voice. Sam knew that voice. He’d heard it so many times. That was the trickster there, the one that he’d been so sure was dead, standing there in front of him alive, and looking at him like he was curious to know what was going on. Amber eyes flickered to Dean and the gun before going back to Sam.

The older Winchester never took his eyes off Sam. He acted like it was no big deal at all to have a dead archangel at his side. “That’s not my Sammy.”

“I’m Sam.” Somehow, Sam managed to blurt those words out past the tightness in his throat. Maybe it was self-preservation. If he didn’t say something, he knew Dean would take matters into his own hands and that was the last thing Sam wanted. Especially if this was what he thought it might be. This Dean, this wasn’t his Dean, and he had no idea how he’d react to things. Better? Worse? “I swear, I am.”

Castiel straightened up and took a step away from Dean’s side. “There is one way to verify this.” He lifted his hand and held out his fingers in a gesture Sam knew well.

His first response was to flinch back from the fingers Castiel extended towards him. His movement, of course, had Dean tensing even more. If this Dean was anything like his back home he was most likely assuming that Sam not wanting to be touched was because he didn’t want to get caught as being Not Sam. Surprisingly, it was Gabriel who seemed to see more than that. He moved in front of everyone and put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and pulled him back while holding his other hand out towards Dean. “Hold up, boys. Relax. He’s human, I can tell you that much, so calm down.”

“You sure about that?” Dean asked, his voice a low growl.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him and it was a sight that Sam hadn’t seen for a long, long time, and never with this edge of familiarity to it. “There are a lot of reasons a guy could flinch in a situation like this. Quit being so jumpy.” That said, he turned back to Sam without giving Dean any chance to respond. The way he smiled at Sam was more open and friendly than Sam could ever remember seeing on his face. “We’re not gonna hurt you, kiddo. We just need to take a look and make sure you are who you say you are.”

Years of shit situations had given Sam the ability to think on his feet no matter what else was going on. Hallucinations, people coming back from the dead, good guys turning out to be bad guys, alternate dimensions, or even should-be-dead-but-aren’t archangels. Even as a part of Sam was reeling over all of this, the rest of him was focused on what was going on right in front of him and the offer of ‘help’ that was being extended his way.

“How?” Sam couldn’t quite help the suspicion in his tone. Having an angel say they were going to ‘help’ didn’t mean what it once had. He’d had way too many versions of angelic help over the years to simply trust it on blind faith. Including help from Gabriel.

His suspicion didn’t seem to bother Gabriel at all. “Just a touch, that’s all. No more grace than we’d use for healing.”

That wasn’t bad. Sam could handle that. Then again, he knew what damage could be done with a single touch, and there was no telling who he could trust around here. The little voice in the back of Sam’s head sounded an awful lot like Dean as it reminded him Trusting anyone in a situation like this is stupid. You’ve got no idea what’s real and what’s not or who’s playing on Meta-douche’s team. That thought had Sam’s spine stiffening and he had to fight not to take another step back. On the off chance that maybe these guys were actually real, Sam spread his hands out and tried to give them an apologetic look. “No offense but, ah, you’re not the only one with trust issues here.” He looked at Dean and even though it wasn’t his Dean he still gave him a small half smile. “My Dean would kick my ass if he found out I let some strange angel who might or might not actually exist come and touch me with their grace. Especially considering that, where I’m from…” He turned now to look over at Gabriel, “…you’ve been dead for quite a while.”

He watched the brief widening of Gabriel’s eyes before it was hidden behind a shuttered look that showed nothing but a familiar mask of amusement that would’ve looked real if Sam hadn’t caught that brief glimpse before it settled. “Well,” the trickster drawled out. “Good to know where I stand in your world.”

Sam felt just a little bit bad about that. Enough to shrug his shoulders uncomfortably and look away a bit. “Sorry.” There were probably way more tactful ways he could’ve said that. If this Gabriel was really real, hurting him wasn’t exactly something Sam wanted to do. Nor was it in his best interests. He knew exactly how ruthless archangels could get when angry. “I’m not trying to be harsh or upset you guys. It’s just, I mean…” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “If you’re all something conjured up by the one that sent me here, than trusting you is the last thing I need to do. If you’re real, well, trusting angels hasn’t exactly gotten me the best experiences in life. I’m not sure I want to try my luck in some strange place.”

The last part of that had both Gabriel and Dean standing up just a little more at attention. It was Castiel, however, who spoke next. “Who exactly do you believe would have sent you here?”

Sam only hesitated for a moment before deciding there couldn’t be any real harm in answering that. “Metatron.” He was almost positive that’s who that voice belonged to. Besides, right now Metatron was probably the only one with the type of power to do something like this… whatever this was.

“The Scribe?” Gabriel sounded incredulous and he and Castiel both looked stunned, while Dean simply looked confused. The archangel looked over at his brother and then back to Sam. “I thought he’d gone into hiding! What on earth pulled him out of his books and back to the real world?”

It didn’t really surprise Sam that Gabriel had some kind of knowledge of Metatron. It sort of made sense that God’s Messenger would know God’s Scribe.

Memories of the little place they’d found Metatron in had Sam’s lips twisting. He didn’t have great memories of that place. The Trials had been going full swing and he’d been miserable. It wasn’t one of his prouder moments. “Yeah. He was pretty wrapped up in his books when we found him. We were stupid enough to think he’d help. I don’t remember a lot about it. I was… pretty sick at the time. But he saved Kevin for us and we were idiots, we thought that maybe it meant he’d be on our side.” It was just another instance that showed them what happened when they trusted anyone – angels especially.

“Kevin?” Gabriel repeated. He watched Sam carefully, a calculating look in his eyes. “Kevin Tran?”

The sound of his name had Sam wincing and battling back that familiar sick twist of guilt that cramped his insides. “Yeah.”

For a long moment Gabriel just stared at him. The way he was looking left Sam feeling like he was being weighed and judged. Appropriate, really, from the Archangel of Judgment. He watched as Gabriel apparently came to a decision and nodded his head. Then he gestured again towards Dean to back off and then stunned them all completely. “Stand down, Deano. I’m pretty sure I know what we’re dealing with here and it’s not anything you need to shoot. Sorry.”

“What the hell is he, then?” Dean demanded. At the same time he surprised Sam by actually lowering his gun and putting it away. It would appear there was quite a lot more trust between this Dean and Gabriel than there had been between his versions of them.

“Oh, he’s still your brother. Just, not your brother.”

“He is from an alternate timeline.” Castiel supplied. He must’ve caught on to Gabriel’s assumptions, or they’d talked it out with some angel telepathy, because he was relaxing ever so slightly as he gave an explanation that matched with what Sam had been guessing. “There are multiple universes out there, timelines where things have gone differently than our own. This Sam is from one of those. It would explain the energy around him if he has crossed over from his universe to ours.”

Dean looked back and forth between them. “How can you be sure?”

“He knows things that he should not. The only way for him to know them is to either be an angel himself, a prophet, or from a different universe than ours. We would sense the first two. The last is the only logical solution left.”

“I’m sure it’ll make a pretty story,” Gabriel said, bringing the attention in the room back to him. “But I get the feeling it’s one that might take a while. Why don’t we get comfortable first?”