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Most of the time we spent reading quietly, every once in awhile interrupting the silence to ask for opinions. When the pile A had gained a decent size, (about the time we were on the third cabinet, because apparently a lot of the books about angels and the bible start with 'A' and 'B') Castiel stood up, grabbing our attention.

"I'm going to look for these," he said, picking up the files in the left, "and start reuniting the books. It'll be faster."

I looked at Crowley and found him already looking at me. Crowley and me, alone in a small room, far far away from the Winchesters and my brother.

The word 'brother' reminded me that he was still waiting for a reaction.

“Yes, you're right." Castiel nodded once, and opened the door to leave. "Call if anything happens."

Crowley and me, alone in a small room.

Father, kill me now.

Part of me wanted to start a conversation, even when I knew that said conversation was definitely going to be the most awkward moment in history. 

Luckily for me, there was also another part that realized that if I started an awkward conversation, I'd have to carry that awkward conversation for who knows how long, and there's no way I could do that without embarrassing myself.

So I decided to remain silent, and Crowley imitated my decision.

But, hell , I wanted to talk with him.

I waved those thoughts off, as I tried to focus on the file in front of me. "Causes of a poltergeist haunting." Definitely useless. 

Then why have I been staring at it for six minutes? I need to get it together.

I stood up and put it back where it belonged.

Crowley was leaving a file in the (now empty) pile A when I sat back on my chair and started reading again.

Crowley and me, alone in a small room.



After what felt like an eternity, and turned out to be 40 minutes, I stood up and said I was going to get something to eat. I asked Crowley if he wanted something and he said he was fine, and then I rushed outside the room.

What the hell am I doing? I asked myself as I wandered down the hallways. I wasn't hungry for obvious reasons, so the kitchen seemed unappealing. The guys were asleep, dad was ignoring me as usual and Castiel was too judgemental for his own good, so there was no one I could go to. 

No one but him.

I took out my cell phone and called the person I trusted most in the surface of the earth.

"I don't know who you are or how did you get this number..." Started his voice mail, "...but don't call again. Unless you're my sister, in that case, and in that case only , leave a message. Buh-bye!"

After the beep, I spoke in a hushed voice.

"Hey. It's me. I--... Uh, well, I think I'm going insane. You have way more experience in this than I do, so I could use your advice right now... Text me when you get this, 'kay? Goodbye. Stay safe, Gabe."

Gabriel had been the one to ask me not to tell the Winchesters he was alive. They were none but trouble, according to him. I'm not saying he's wrong, but they are the kind of trouble worth dealing with. I think he thought that too-- at least, until Lucifer killed him. Kali told me what had happened, and gave me the address of the hotel. I rebuilt his vessel and brought him back from the Empty. 

Dad had explicitly forbidden me to bring anything or anyone back from the dead, but he didn't try to stop me. 

I don't know if he dared to.

I turn around to head back, but I run into someone. Crowley stands there, with a file on his hands and his mouth opened.

"Gabriel is alive?"

"You can't say anything. Oh, God, please don’t say anything,” I begged, frantically. The words weren’t even properly separated by silences- it all sounded like one long word. If something happened to Gabriel--... 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone,” he said, stepping closer to me. Why, oh, why , did he had to be so close to me. 

“I’m begging you, Crowley,” I insisted, feeling my lips shake, “nobody knows. Nobody. Please.”

“I promise, dear, that I’ll keep that information to myself,” he said, raising his right hand. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I am being honest.”

When I made sense to his words, my eyebrows furred. “What? No, Crowley, it’s not that. I trust you, I just--...” Have deep trust issues? What was I supposed to say next? “If something happened to my brother, I- I don’t know what I’d do.”

He nodded, as a soft smile settled on his face. 

“I understand. Sometimes it’s easy to forget these are your actual brothers.”

“Everyone forgets that, don’t worry about it,” I said, in a low voice. By ‘these’ he meant the archangels: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel. All the other angels too, but the ones I grew up with were the ones I actually had a relationship with. 

Of course, look at how that played out. Raphael dead after trying to take over Heaven. Michael trapped in the Cage -an awful destiny that nobody, not even Lucifer, deserves- and with no apparent date of release. Gabriel killed by his brother and brought back to life, just to live hiding in the shadows and away from his family. And don’t get me started on Lucifer. 

“You sound disappointed,” he practically asked, not pointing it out, but searching for confirmation.

“I’m not,” I replied quickly. “It’s not disappointment, it’s--... Not important.” I stopped myself. He frowned at my sudden change of mood. “What did you want?”

“Oh, of course. I need your opinion on this,” he said, handing me what he had in his hands. I read it in silence, absorbing all the information I could in the minimal time possible. The file spoke about a book from unknown origins, half in Enochian and half in Hebrew, that was supposedly an angel encyclopedia, dated -according to the Men of Letters’ calculations- to over a thousand years ago. 

“This is actually very promising,” I said, avoiding subtly his eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Are you coming back to the Inventory room?”

“Yes, I’ll be there in a moment. First I’m going to check on the Winchesters.”

I was going to have to tell Gabe that I had -accidentally- given away his secret. The demon nodded once, and walked away, leaving me alone again.

As soon as I found myself unaccompanied again, I typed down a text message, which had more chances to be seen than the voicemail.

“Crowley heard me talking on the phone. He knows you’re alive. I made him promise to keep the secret, don’t worry. I am so sorry.”

Not even waiting for a reply, I headed to the bedrooms.