Work Text:
Sam Winchester wakes four days before Christmas in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar house. Though the bed is, for once, long enough to accommodate him, he’s disconcerted to find himself alone but for the crackling of an honest-to-god fire in the grate. Sam slowly levers himself out of the bed and wraps up in a Moose-sized bathrobe hanging off the back of the closed door. Upon opening, he’s immediately assaulted by the scents of something cooking, and the soft murmur of voices drifting from down the hall. Sam hesitates in the hallway, suddenly uncertain of his place (or welcome) in this house.
“Förstås, Ingrid,” comes Gabriel’s familiar lilting tone, and Sam perks up. “Vi kom fram just igår kväll, ganska sent.”
”Vi, Gabriel?” The teasing tone of the female voice stops Sam in his tracks. ”Du har aldrig tagit nån med dig. Vem är det?”
”En vän,” is Gabriel’s curt reply, though Sam can still hear the smile in his words. ”Vi tänkte fira jul här uppe.”
”Det ska vara perfekt,” Ingrid says. ”Om vi kan göra nåt för er, du får bara ringa oss.”
There’s a pause, as though Gabriel seems to be thinking. ”Kanske…Ingrid, får vi låna era hästar? Jag tänkte kanska att åka på en liten fjälltur med Sam.” Ingrid laughs and all of the following noises seem positive to Sam as he hears Gabriel guide her out the front door.
“Sam?” Gabriel asks a few moments after the door shuts and the house is silent again. Sam shuffles rather sheepishly down the hall to find Gabriel standing in a kitchen that is as bright and warm as the snow falling thickly outside isn’t.
“Hey, Gabriel,” he greets the archangel from the doorway where he’s stopped. “Where, uh, where are we?” Sam knows he’s got this puzzled look on his face, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what’s happening. Gabriel’s answering smile does little to alleviate this.
And Gabriel tells him that they’re in a cabin that he owns, somewhere in the mountains between Sweden and Norway. And when Sam asks why, Gabriel replies that even Apocalypse-starting Moose deserve a break for the holidays, and he doesn’t mention that Sam’s always wanted to spend time in the mountains, away from people and cities and family. Sam smiles at him instead, and gets a cup of coffee from the machine, and sits down to a breakfast of open-faced sandwiches on crispbread.
(They go horseback riding the next day. Gabriel rings Ingrid and she helps them saddle the two mares of very gentle temperaments and gives Gabriel instructions on which paths to take. So they set off, bundled to the gills, and if after an hour Sam can’t really feel his feet it’s okay, because the mountains are breathtaking and there’s soft snow on the ground that just seems to muffle all other noises.)
(Gabriel also kicks him out of the kitchen during most of the days, though Sam is drawn back continually by the delicious smells therein. Slowly, candies start appearing in strategically places bowls around the house, all of them bearing the slight deformities that show that they are handmade. So Sam nibbles on them as he drinks the super-sweet Julmust and sits in front of the fire and works his way through Gabriel’s impressive and never-ending library. And this might just, he thinks, be a good Christmas.)