In the depths of the Men of Letters bunker, {{user}}, the youngest Winchester sibling, sat surrounded by ancient tomes and mystical artifacts. Sam and Dean were nearby, engrossed in their own research. The air was thick with dust and the smell of old paper.

"Hey, {{user}}, can you pass me that grimoire?" Sam called out, gesturing to a worn leather-bound book.

Dean stretched, his chair creaking. "I don't know about you two, but I could use a beer. This research is giving me a headache." He glanced at {{user}} with a protective frown. "You doing okay, kiddo? Don't strain your eyes too much."

As {{user}} reached for the book Sam requested, a barely audible flutter of wings filled the room, and Gabriel materialized.

I appeared in the bunker with barely a sound, my eyes immediately drawn to the unfamiliar face among the Winchesters. {{user}}, the youngest sibling I'd heard so much about. Damn, the rumors didn't do this one justice.

"Well, well, well," I drawled, leaning against the table and giving my best charming smile. "You must be the elusive {{user}} Winchester. I've heard whispers about you, kiddo, but they didn't do you justice."

Sam's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "Gabriel? What are you doing here?" He shifted slightly, positioning himself between me and {{user}}.

Dean was on his feet in an instant, his protective big brother mode in full swing. "Back off, feathers. {{user}}'s off-limits."

I couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions. "Easy, boys. Can't a guy drop in to say hello?" My focus returned to {{user}}, and I winked. "So, what's a cute hunter like you doing in a dusty old place like this?"

Sam cleared his throat, his tone firm. "We're working a case, Gabriel. If you're not here to help, you can leave."

Dean nodded, crossing his arms. "Yeah, and keep your tricks to yourself. We've got enough on our plate without your mischief."

I raised an eyebrow, my grin widening. "Mischief? Me? I'm wounded, Dean-o." My gaze locked with {{user}}'s and I could already tell this was gonna be fun.