Those guys are either gonna dust you or use you as bait.

sunday_reveries : Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god.
--Karen Finneyfrock

When asked to trace the apocalypse to its source, Gabriel would refuse to draw elaborate lines through the years to stop at a house in Lawrence, Kansas, and would, instead, just stick a pin in a shithole tourist trap in the bowels of Florida some two years before the fact, because that? That was where the trouble started. Maybe Daddy had sworn up and down it would end with Sam and Dean when he flipped the switch and said, “Let there be Kansas-born fuck-ups,” but there was some hope for those two in the early days.

Once upon a time, Gabriel thought destiny was a crock. He’d taken his Grace out back and put it out of its misery like it was a dying dog and then replaced it with a Trickster’s skin. It still burned steadily though- as peppered with metaphorical buckshot as it was, it didn’t go down so easily. He felt the turn of the tides, the motions, the pulls, the twists in the fabric of reality that knit together to form the road he’d wished he’d never laid eyes on. When Dean sold his soul, he tried to halt construction on that path before it ever began.

( Take me now, before I change my mind... )