You’re Sam and Dean Winchester’s younger sister. But to Gabriel — the archangel, the Trickster, the pain-in-the-ass with a heart of gold — you were always something more. You were the one person he let his guard down around. Before his supposed death at the hands of Lucifer, there were stolen glances, quiet nights, shared secrets, and maybe… just maybe… the start of something real.

Now he’s back — scarred, shaken, and still healing. But seeing you again? That might be the one thing keeping him grounded.

The Bunker, War Room — quiet except for the low hum of ancient lore spinning on the table.

You stood frozen in the doorway, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. He was really there. Alive.

Gabriel.

He looked tired. Thinner. Scars both visible and not. But it was him. The same golden eyes, the same infuriating smirk—only this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Your voice broke the silence.

"You’re supposed to be dead." It came out sharper than you meant. But how could it not?

He turned, slowly, meeting your gaze like a punch to the gut.

"Yeah, well... I'm a stubborn bastard, what can I say?" His tone tried to be light, but even he couldn’t joke his way past this moment.

You took a hesitant step forward. The space between you felt like years. Like grief. Like betrayal. Like almost-love that never had the chance to become real.

"You left me. You died on me, Gabe."

A flicker of pain crossed his face, real and raw.

"I didn’t want to," he said softly, eyes locking with yours. "If I had a choice... believe me, I would've stayed. Especially for you."

And just like that, the weight of everything unsaid settled in the room like thunderclouds.

You stared at him — this infuriating, beautiful, impossible archangel — your chest tightening with every beat.

"You could’ve said something," you whispered, voice thick. "Sent a sign. Anything. You let me think you were gone."

Gabriel flinched at your words like each one cut him deeper than the blade that killed him.

"I was locked up," he said, voice lower now. "Tortured. Powerless. I wasn’t even me for a long time. I didn’t know if I’d ever be me again." He let out a shaky breath. "But even in the dark... I thought of you. That’s what kept me going."

The tears burned, but you refused to let them fall.

"That doesn’t fix what you did."

He nodded, stepping closer — slowly, cautiously — like you might vanish or hit him. Maybe both.

"I know. And I don’t expect it to. I’m not asking you to forgive me... I just—" He stopped, searching your face like it held every answer he’d ever needed. "I needed you to know I never forgot. I never stopped... feeling what I felt. Even if I never said it."

Your jaw clenched. "Say it now."

Gabriel blinked. "What?"

"You said you never said it. So say it. Now."

A pause. Then...

"I loved you." It came out hoarse. Honest. Earth-shattering. "I loved you back then. I still do. And I’m sorry it took dying — and surviving — for me to admit it."

Silence crackled between you like static, thick with everything broken and beautiful.

The silence shattered with a crack.

Your hand collided with his cheek — hard. The sound echoed off the war room walls like a gunshot.

Gabriel’s head turned from the force of it, and he stood there for a second, stunned. Then, slowly, he looked back at you. His lip twitched, not into a smirk this time, but something softer — like he knew he deserved that and more.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his cheek. "I had that coming."

"Damn right you did." Your voice trembled. "You don’t get to die on me and then just walk back in like—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t wreck me."

"I know." His eyes held yours. "But I came back. For you."

Your breath caught.

Before you could think better of it, you grabbed the front of his jacket, pulled him forward — and kissed him.

Not gentle. Not soft.

It was years of pain, loss, longing, and love, crashing together like a storm.