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Title:   Insomnia
Author:  [livejournal.com profile] vlbuehle
Pairing:  Sam/Gabriel
Rating: NC-17
Summary:  Sam can't sleep and it's starting to show.  So Gabriel decides to wear him out.  With sex.
A/N:  This is from...some prompt or another.  I think it was the first [livejournal.com profile] spn_gabriel kink meme, but I'm not certain.  OP, if you happen to see this, I hope you enjoy!  Unbetaed as usual, so con-crit is more than welcome.

He couldn’t sleep.  Okay, so technically he could sleep in that he was capable of it, but he didn’t want to and for once, will was winning over everything else.  Sleep meant nightmares, meant dreaming of Dean ripped to shreds or screaming under Alastair’s hands, meant Ruby and how she’d played him so beautifully.  And those were the good nights; the bad ones involved visions of blood and death and horrors beyond the telling, and Lucifer crooning softly into his ear.  The really bad ones started out with him at home, Mom and Dad and Jess there, Dean happy like Sam had never seen him.  And then they turned into Jess dying, blaming him as the fire consumed her, Mom pinned and bleeding to the ceiling of the nursery and it was all his fault because Azazel had only wanted her for the son she’d bear.  Then it was Dad, drunk and raging, his grief and rage tumbling out against the son who’d caused all his misery.

Dean was the worst, though.  Sometimes he raged, eyes demon-black as he listed the ways Sam had failed him, had doomed the world.  Sometime he just stood there and watched, his face a mask of disappointment and betrayal.

So yeah.  Sleeping?  Not something Sam would be doing if he had any say about it.  He’d tried caffeine at first.  Dean had given him a curious look when he went from lattes and mocchachinos to straight black java, but he hadn’t said anything.  But as the days wore on and Sam downed increasing amounts of coffee to stay awake, Dean had started to look irritated.  When annoyance had been joined by that painfully familiar resigned concern, Sam had figured it might be time to cut back a little.  When Cas had asked why he was so jittery, he’d known it was time to cut back.

So he’d fallen asleep, and the nightmares had come roaring back with a vengeance, with Lucifer not far behind. 

Enough was enough. 

Over the next few weeks, he worked out a pattern.  He kept his Blackberry set to go off at random intervals to keep him awake, or jolt him out of any naps.  He’d still nod off occasionally, but he wasn’t sleeping more than an hour, max; total it was probably closer to three, maybe four hours a night.  Enough to keep him functional, but it cut down on the nightmares. 


Dean Winchester was nobody’s fool, and more importantly, he was still Sam’s big brother and he knew the signs of trouble when he saw them.  Sam might think Dean figured he was jonesing for demon blood again, but Dean recognized what he was seeing: Sammy wasn’t sleeping again.  It explained the bags under his eyes and the dark circles that were starting to take on raccoon proportions.  More importantly, it also explained the yawning, the irritability, the tightness at the corners of his eyes that signaled nearly constant headaches, and Sam’s increasing lag time during the middle of conversations.  He was moving like an old man, too, careful and stiff; that was a primary warning beacon as far as Dean was concerned.  Add in the way he caught at the car to steady himself when he unfolded out of the backseat, and the way his hands had started to tremble, and it wasn’t looking good.  Even Cas had mentioned it, although the angel apparently didn’t get the finer points of sleep deprivation versus withdrawal, even if he couldn’t sense any new demon blood in Sam’s system.

Pretty soon he’d be starting up with the rest of it.  The lag times in conversations would turn into Sam spacing out entirely.  The tremors would get worse, and would be joined by memory loss that left him uncertain and shaken.  His reaction times would be shot to hell and back, and he’d waver between hyperactivity and dragging exhaustion.  If it got really bad, his body temp would drop and he’d even start to hallucinate.

Dean knew the signs painfully well; he’d gone down them once before, right after Jess had died.  And he knew about the long term risks too, the threat of increased blood pressure, of impaired immune systems and the risk of Sammy’s big brain snapping completely.  He’d done his homework when it came to his baby brother.

 Sam was already worse off than he’d been with Jess; God alone knew how long this had been going on.  He could fix this like he’d done last time, encourage Sammy to drift off and let him sleep until the next nightmare woke him.  But…maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the right person this time through.  Gabriel had been making himself scarce lately and Dean wouldn’t pretend he got the finer points of his baby brother’s relationship with the Archangel on a good day, but he didn’t doubt that Gabriel cared.  Gabriel cared a lot, if he was any judge.

“Gabriel,” he said quietly, leaning against his baby and watching the light burning steadily in Sam’s room.

A rush of wings and a sense of power and presence, and then the short form of Gabriel’s vessel joined him.  “You called?”

“Haven’t seen you around much lately.”  Okay, so maybe he was feeling a little overprotective when it came to Sam—sue him.  Sam was ripping himself apart way too well for Dean’s taste, he wasn’t about to let Gabriel fuck his kid brother up even worse.

“Been busy.”  But hazel eyes flicked to Sam’s window and away again, and Dean blew out a breath.

“Yeah.  Right.  Look, you called me on Cas, so I’m doing the same with you and Sammy.”

Gabriel stiffened, and for a moment Dean’s breath caught.  He’d faced down demons and the worst Hell could bring to bear, but in that moment, Gabriel scared him shitless.  “I didn’t ask you to.”  A barest thread of power to the other male’s voice, a warning Dean ignored.

“Which is why I’m telling.  Look, he loves you, a blind fool could see it.  And you love him.  So stop dicking around, grow a pair, and deal with it because Sammy’s too much of a mess to do it himself right now, and dammit, he needs you.”

The words were bitter, but that didn’t make them any less true.  Gabriel hesitated, eyes narrowing. 

“What do you mean, needs me?”

“He’s ripping himself apart,” Dean said flatly.  “Not sleeping, barely eating.  He’s already showing signs of sleep deprivation and trust me when I say it’ll only get worse before he gets better.  Sammy low on sleep?  Not fun.”

Gabriel blinked at him.  “What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t want to know,” Dean muttered.  “Just…fix him, okay?”  Duty done, he shoved his hands into his pockets and swung around the archangel for his own room and his angel waiting for him.  Bout time he introduced Cas to the glory that was pie, and the local diner seemed like a decent starting point.

Gabriel watched the mortal go through narrowed eyes, but Dean was important to Sam and Sammy was his.  That gave Dean leeway, despite what an ass the kid was.

Besides, he was right.  Gabriel had been too fascinated by the tall, delicious bundle of contradictions that was Samuel Winchester, and he’d let that fascination turn into lust and more.  He’d chosen to seduce Sammy, and when he’d realized his Grace was attuning itself to the mortal, that his hands tingled with an instinctive need to mark his Mate, stake his Claim…he’d fled.  Fled like the coward he’d become eons ago, when he’d abandoned the only home and family he’d ever known rather than face the nightmare of a war between those he loved most.

He could turn tail and run again; nobody could stop him.  But…he was tired of running, he admitted on a long sigh.  And even when he’d fled, he’d known he would come back. 

Sam was his, and Gabriel did not Claim easily or lightly, nor did he relinquish what was his without a fight.

He tipped his head, watching the tall silhouette shamble across the lit window for a moment, considering and discarding plans until he found one he liked.  Sammy didn’t want to sleep, hmm?  He could work with that.

He could, of course, just whammy Sam into sleep, but that was not an ideal long-term solution.  Mortals needed natural sleep and even angelic mojo wasn’t a good replacement.  Besides, it wasn’t nearly as fun as what he had in mind.

Smiling, he snapped his fingers and darted into Sammy’s room.  It was alarmingly neat for the scummy conditions Sammy seemed to think were usual, with little indication that anyone was even living there.  Obsessively neat, even by Sam’s standards.  He studied the room briefly, noting the garbage can overflowing with take-out coffee cups and cups of tea from the looks of it.  Printouts from the local library were tacked up on the wall, with post-it notes scattered on and around them.  A large map of the US was tacked up in the center, colored pushpins marking various hunts.

Shaking his head, Gabriel turned his attention to the mortal bending over his computer.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” he sighed.  Sam’s head snapped up, blood-shot hazel eyes regarding him in open surprise. 

“Gabriel.  What…uh, what are you doing here?”

“Missed you.”  Sam was in no state to understand subtlety, so Gabriel didn’t even bother.  A snap of his fingers took them both to the bed, and he maneuvered the landing so he was straddling Sam, perfectly poised for his next move.  He threaded his fingers through shaggy dark hair and tipped Sam’s head back for a fierce kiss, ending with a hard nip to Sammy’s lip.  Dazed hazel eyes stared back at him, pupils blown as Sam swallowed hard, hands gripping slim hips.

“I—I can’t,” he blurted, even as he made no move to get away.  Gabriel cocked a brow, reading the guilt and exhaustion in the mortal beneath him clearly.  But there was also a healthy amount of lust—good thing, he’d hate to think he was losing his touch—and a very unhealthy amount of exhaustion.
Sammy was definitely out of it; the poor boy hadn’t even realized that Gabriel had also removed their clothes.  Smirking, he shifted back just slightly and ground down.  Sam’s eyes dilated instantly, a flush sweeping across his cheekbones and down his throat, that sweet mouth falling open as he panted softly.


Sam’s breath hitched as long fingers wrapped around his cock, working him up and down slow and steady, thumbing the head as Sam arched desperately into the touch.  He was already on edge; he hadn’t so much as jerked off since Gabriel had vanished a week ago.  More to the point, Gabriel could make him rock hard with a single look.  Gabriel perched atop him was too much for any man to withstand.

Gabriel’s cock pressed against his, and his eyes shut as he rocked back into the thrusts. 

“Gabriel!” he gasped as a hot, hot hand curled around both of them, offering just the right pressure in the perfect spots.   Almost, almost…there!  He screamed Gabriel’s name as he came hot and messy, his seed splattering across both their bellies.  Gabriel shuddered over him a moment later, the shadow of wings briefly stretching across the room.

Sam slowly, unwillingly relaxed in the aftermath.  The bed was long enough to fit him comfortably and then some, and soft beneath him.  Gabriel was a heavy, hot mass above him, pinning him securely down, letting him relax a little because nothing supernatural was going to get past even a snoozing archangel. 
He was so comfortable, so relaxed, safe at last.  He started to slip off and jerked himself awake, gasping in alarm.  No, he couldn’t sleep!

“No!” he protested, shoving futilely at the archangel above him.  “I have to get up!”

Gabriel arched a brow, bony elbows digging into Sam’s chest as he propped his chin on his hands and stared down at his mortal.  “You couldn’t just do this the easy way, could you?” he asked wryly.  Sam blinked.


“Never mind.”  He studied Sam for a moment as Sam tried to get the smaller man off him—to absolutely no avail.  Then a quiet snap heralded shackles snapping around his wrists and ankles, tugging him until he was spread open across the bed.  Sam twisted his head to stare in utter disbelief at one of the bonds holding him in place.  It was the good stuff, heavy and solid, lined with what looked and felt like suede to prevent chafing.  This wasn’t the fur-lined handcuffs most people used for thrills; this was the real deal, serious bondage gear.  He wasn’t getting out until and unless Gabriel let him.

“Hard way it is,” Gabriel informed him with a cheerful wiggle of his eyebrows, and then common sense and rationality fled as his cock was engulfed in a hot mouth.  He went hard so fast it hurt, and then lost any hope of an actual thought when one finger slid smoothly into his ass to prod against his prostate with deliberate force. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, and Gabriel laughed wickedly, the vibrations around his cock making his eyes cross.  Gabriel pulled off with a pop, and a quick lick to the tip of his cock even as a second finger slipped into Sam, widening him.  He shifted, slipping down just enough to get a good angle, his free hand pushing Sam’s ass up slightly.  Sam groaned, already knowing where this was going; rimming was one of his biggest kinks, and Gabriel used it against him ruthlessly and often.  A hot tongue danced over his entrance, teasing and darting inside just enough to tease and tantalize, not enough to come close to satisfying.  Sam bleated a slightly incoherent protest and was rewarded by a thoroughly sinful laugh as Gabriel scissored his fingers, stretching him open again and plunging his tongue in deep and sucking, working Sam open wide and wet with both fingers and tongue.  Sam squirmed against his bonds, trying to shove down into Gabriel’s mouth and not succeeding very well.  Long fingers pulled out and he clenched down instinctively at the sudden emptiness, hissing his protest.

“Let’s try something new,” Gabriel murmured, running his finger down behind Sam’s balls.  He shivered at the gentle, steady pressure, dazed mind struggling to figure out what the hell Gabriel was up to now—and then gave a sharp, startled bark as Gabriel hit an incredibly sensitive spot between his balls and his anus.  Christ!  Gabriel rubbed firmly, the sensation still pleasurable but different, without the faint edge of pain that added a deliciously sweet edge to his pleasure.  But he was on the edge again, and it was nearly enough to send him tumbling over…nearly there…his balls tightened and Sam tensed, body arching in anticipation as that tight knot of pleasure built, built—and then a hand clamped over his cock, and he shuddered as his budding orgasm stopped.

“Gabriel,” he hissed in outraged protest, and his lover crawled back up with ruthless deliberation, every slide of skin against skin sensual torture.  He snapped his fingers, pulling Sam’s legs up and open, cock catching on Sam’s hole and edging just inside.  Sam writhed, frantic at the tantalizing pressure, desperate to finally come.  Gabriel had apparently been waiting for just that, because he surged forward in one hard, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, balls slapping against Sam’s.  Sam clenched hard at the shock of the intrusion, body burning at the abrupt stretch despite Gabriel’s thorough prep.
Gabriel didn’t give him time to adjust; he kept a fast, hard rhythm, striking Sam’s prostate over and over again.  This time the pleasure boiled up hot, fast, and unstoppable.  Sam screamed, squeezing convulsively on the hard cock pounding into him as he came hard.  Gabriel wasn’t far behind him, barely slapping a shielding hand over Sam’s eyes before he lost control of his form briefly, the room flaring white even through Sam’s closed eyes.  His shoulder tingled under Gabriel's clenched hand andn he knew without looking that he now bore a handprint nearly identical to Dean's.

A small part of him struggled to stay awake, but he was well and truly exhausted.  Gabriel had completely worn him out.  The bonds vanished, Gabriel wrapping him in strong arms and rolling them.  Sam curled into his secure hold, relaxing even more at the knowledge that very little would dare threaten him here. 

“That’s it,” Gabriel murmured, voice husky.  Wings rustled, feathers sweeping over him, cocooning him in an unseen blanket.  Safe.  

Gabriel wrapped himself around his mate, letting his Grace eddy gently around Sammy’s battered soul.  His, now and forever, a claim so sacred even the dickheads he called brothers would pause before threatening his mate.  Sammy sighed, curled into him, and finally, thankfully, slept.

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