Sam can hear him in his head, and he's not sure why, and it's not a voice. It's pain. White hot and burning and he knows its source.
He stumbles across the ruins of a town, not sure which as they've constantly been on the move for weeks, and everything is rubble. The smell of ozone is heavy in the air. There is blood smeared on stone and brick, and a pile of cars on fire, the stink of burning rubber filling his nose.
He follows the pain.
And he finds him.
Broken.
An inarticulate cry escapes Sam's lips, a cry of horror, at the sight before his eyes.
Gabriel is pinned above the ground to a wooden cross, and he's not the only one; Sam sees and tries not to the dozen others, humans, crucified, all dead for days. But he's alive. Standing below him, trying not to retch, Sam can see his eyes flickering across the ground, his hands clenching and unclenching in pain.
He's not nailed through his hands. The spikes are driven through his wings.
Sam can see them, no longer white and glorious, but ragged and burned, with gaping holes where feathers of light and sound had been. They're bleeding.
Somehow he gets him free, gets him down. He'll never remember where he found the strength to pull out the railroad spikes and the nails through his feet. His fingertips are bloody, nails ripped, but he ignores his own pain, desperate to soothe Gabriel's.
Sam carries him into a partially destroyed building, finds a bit of warmth, quiet and darkness in a corner, and cradles him on his lap. He tries not to touch the wings but they're huge and so real and he can't help but brush them. Every time he does, Gabriel moans in pain and that pain echoes in his head.
Finally, after an eternity, Gabriel finally speaks, and his voice is cracked, dry and desolate, and so very soft as he says, "Sam."
"What can I do? Tell me how to help you," Sam chokes out, the fingers of one hand sliding through Gabriel's sweaty hair and tugging his head to the bend of his neck and shoulder.
"Nothing. They'll heal or they won't." The emptiness in that voice that usually is so full of sarcasm, humor and life, makes Sam want to sob, but he forces himself to hold it together, and they sit quietly for a long time, the only sound their breathing, ragged for different reasons.
Dean's voice shouting his name sends a shudder of relief through Sam and he shouts back.
They'll get out of here, get back on the road, and find some way to heal their most powerful ally.
He has to believe it.
End