How long is one supposed to wait before they call someone? A day? A week? A month? Ugh, socializing is hard. Gabriel should have told Sam to call him instead. Then again, the stress of waiting for a phone call would probably be worse than deciding when to call. He'd spend the rest of eternity wondering if Sam was actually going to call him, or if he was just being polite so he could get out of there.

What if that's what happened, though? What if Sam doesn't actually want to hang out with him again? What if Sam just said that to be polite, or at least to convince Gabriel that he was? He easily could have used that as an easy out. Or what if he was slightly drunk from the drink Gabriel bought him, and he regrets saying it?

Okay, he's overthinking this too much. He'll just call in a few days. No, a week. Do weekends work better? Neither of them have actual jobs, so it's not like they have scheduled days off. Weekends are more normal, though. Maybe next weekend? Is that too far away? Is that too soon? It's a week and a half. That's a good amount of time, right?

God, following human rules of socialization is hard. He misses having friends that he could stab in the back -- literally or figuratively -- and still expect an invitation to the family dinner. That has to be the plus side of befriending the pagans. They didn't know how to hold grudges, and they didn't subscribe to the artificial laws of human socialization.

~~

The next few days seem to drag on for Gabriel. Sure, he gets a kick out of messing with people, but he's too anxious to focus. He finally calls Sam up on Friday night, which is one day earlier than he had planned to but hopefully still long enough.

Sam picks up on one of the final rings. "Hey. Hold on, the reception sucks in here."

And silence. Is that it? Is he gone? Was that all he was going to get from the guy? That's not what he had expected. He had hoped Sam would pick up and ask to hang out, or just brush him off completely. Did he have to give him false hope like this?

But then, after a brief pause, Sam says, "Sorry, Dean was breathing down my neck. What's up?"

Oh, thank god.

"I have fewer things to do than a fish on a walk," Gabriel deadpans. Is that too straight-forward? Should he have made small talk first? All he really wants is someone to hang out with, so he might as well just go for it, right?

Sam chuckles. "Well, it just so happens that I just finished a case, so I've got the rest of the night off."

Gabriel can't help but grin, and he's glad Sam can't see his excitement through the phone. "You up for a night on the town?"

"Would I have told you I have the night off if I wasn't?" Sam counters.

"Touche," Gabriel says. "Where do you want to meet up, bearing in mind that I have no idea where you are but can teleport."

"There's a bar a few minutes away from my motel," Sam says. "Matthew's Tavern, I think? In Pennsylvania."

Gabriel lets out a low whistle. "Sounds like someone took a trip to the Morton House."

"Unfortunately, it was a lot of somebodies," Sam mutters.

"What?"

"I'll tell you the whole story when I see you," Sam says. "When do you want to meet up?"

"Right now good for you?" Gabriel asks. Is that too soon? Shoot, maybe it is. Sure, Sam said the place was only a few minutes away, but still. Maybe he should have waited a little longer.

"Sure thing," Sam replies, much to Gabriel's relief. "See you in a few."

Gabriel teleports over to the bar, knowing already he's going to be way earlier than Sam. Sam still has to talk to Dean, and he has to drive over. He's not sure how long he expects it to take -- talking to Dean alone may take hours. The guy is nothing if not protective.

Fortunately, Sam arrives fairly quickly, taking a seat next to Gabriel without a moment's hesitation. It's a much different atmosphere than it was the first time they met. Sam had been shifty and tense. Now he doesn't seem worried in the least.

"Hey," Sam greets him.

"Hey, Mr. Samman," Gabriel replies with a smirk.

"Seriously? You're actually going to call me that?"

Gabriel nods. "Yeah, so you better get used to it now. Okay, now, spill. What happened at the Morton House?"

"Well, it sounds like you've been before," Sam says. "Do I need to explain the big bad, or do you have that part down?"

"Oh, no, I just know the reputation," Gabriel says, which is true. He did go once, though he left not long after. He had just been waiting for the poor suckers with a death wish to show up one leap day night -- leap night? -- so he could kill them. It's not like he was killing random people, obviously; everyone knows you don't go to the Morton House at night on a leap day. They'd asked for trouble, and he was willing to bring it.

He'd thought it was a load of bullshit at first. He's seen more "haunted" places than he can count, and most turn out to be some weird PR stunt or a couple dead idiots causing a riot. The second he realized that the disappearing kid was really gone, and at no fault of his own, Gabriel decided this one was the real deal and he got the hell out of dodge. Someone or something was already raising hell in that house, and Gabriel wasn't very keen on encroaching on its space.

Gabriel keeps his story to himself. Sam wouldn't want to hear him talk about trying to kill people, and certainly not ones he himself could have saved if he had gone a few years earlier. But he's definitely interested in Sam's story, so Sam tells him the whole thing -- how they ran into the "Ghostfacers" and had to suffer through their bullshit while they tried to work; how the ghost in the house actually just wanted friends; how "gay loved can pierce through the veil of death and save the day" by cutting into a death echo. Overall, it's a lot funnier than Gabriel's story of the place would have been.

"They really called themselves the "Ghostfacers?" Gabriel asks. "Like, this is the most blatant ripoff of Ghostbusters the world has ever seen, and they think they're gonna hit the big screens?"

Sam chuckles. "I love that this is what you take from that whole story."

"Well, come on," Gabriel says. "Ghosts? Dead people? Haunted houses? Kinda a typical Tuesday night -- and I've been around since the beginning of time, so I've seen a lot of Tuesday nights. But people... They're always different. That's the joy of humanity. They're so different, and often so, so stupid."

Sam shakes his head, amused. "I guess you have a point there."

"That's your daily source of immortal being's wisdom for today," Gabriel says.

"Now, I have to ask," Sam says. "What have you been up to?"

"Not much," he tells him truthfully. "Nothing noteworthy."

"I doubt that," Sam says. "With the shit I've seen you pull? You've got to have done something."

"They can't all be winners," Gabriel replies with a shrug.

A lot of his best tricks he used around Sam. It was originally done on a subconscious level, but by the end of their first meeting, Gabriel decided to go all-out with the boy; thus, the Groundhog Day time loop of death was born.

"I need a drink," Gabriel announces.

"I could go for one, too," Sam agrees.

The two of them order a drink, and this time, Sam doesn't hesitate to drink it. Looks like he's gotten over the whole "Gabriel's going to spike my drink" thing.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam asks.

"Shoot," Gabriel replies.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asks, the one question Gabriel didn't want to hear. "Why did you decide to go to a bar with me? It seems so out of character for you."

Gabriel shrugs. "I have too much free time. I figured I'd hit you up, see what's going on in the life of the Samman." That's a decent answer, right?

"But why?" Sam asks again. "Why me? I just tried to kill you, remember? I spent six months trying to track you down and kill you."

"But then I realized you aren't always trying to kill me," Gabriel replies, sort of as a joke.

"When did you realize that?" Sam asks. "I mean, I was on a pretty steady I-need-to-kill-the-trickster spree until I realized you could and probably would kill Dean again if I came at you again."

"Bingo."

Sam scoffs. "What?"

"You couldn't kill me," Gabriel says with a shrug. "You are by far the most interesting hunter I've ever met, and not only do you not pose a threat to me, but you know you don't pose a threat. And you basically have to do whatever I say now that you know I pretty much hold the strings to the puppet show that is the universe." He grins. "Talk about a match made in heaven, huh?"

It's not the real reason, though. He isn't really sure why he decided he liked Sam. If anything, he and Dean probably have more in common -- their love of porn, sex and hookers comes to mind. But between his connections to Michael and to Hell, Dean was never an option. Sam, on the other hand... Well, it seemed more reasonable. Plus, he reminds Gabriel a lot of his older brother. He lost Lucifer in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell years ago, but he never stopped caring about him. And then Sam showed up, practically the mirror image of the archangel that's going to take over his body one day, and it really stuck out to him.

Of course, why he finally decided to seek him out is different. He knows Dean is going to Hell soon, and after neglecting Gabriel's help in making this easier on himself, Sam is going to need someone to get him through that period of adjustment. Gabriel figured that would be his time to shine. He feels sort of bad, though, taking advantage of Dean's death like that.

Actually, no, he doesn't. He does this to people all the time.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Sam says. "I can only stay cooped up in a motel room with Dean for so long."

Gabriel nods in understanding. "Oh, yeah. I bet." As much as he likes Dean, if he had to spend all day, every day, listening to that guy... Well, Dean wouldn't make it out alive.