They made their own choice. They chose family.

For a while after Gabriel was awoken, the battle against the Fallen turned in favor of the Hunters. The Fallen hadn't been expecting it, after all, thinking all the Daughters and Sons had faded away. That, along with the fact that the town that surrounded Gabriel's temple had now become a sanctuary for Hunters meant that the Fallen had been taken by surprise.

For a time.

Eventually, though, the Fallen seemed to learn that there were only two Sons who had awakened and that their powers were still limited. Whether they had realized that Castiel and Gabriel really only appeared around Dean and Sam, Sam didn't know, but it certainly hadn't stopped the Fallen from attacking the brothers. Though they only called upon the Sons in the most dire of circumstances as both were still regaining their power.

Finally, though, all four had agreed that something needed to be done.

Which is why Sam pulls up his horse before the gates of the great City, looking up at the walls built and worked with the power of the Sons and Daughters from long ago to protect the inhabitants from the Fallen and the dark creatures that lived in the wilds. Gabriel rides pillion behind him, body warm against Sam's back and arms around his sides. No doubt the Son could have made it to the City on his own just fine, but he's reserving power for the moment.

Sam looks back to the group of Hunters that are following him. He knows that Dean and Castiel and other Hunters are coming into the City on the other side, since they don't want to make people nervous about a large number of Hunters in the City, but if this works, they want the extra Hunters close.

He drops his hand to Gabriel's on his stomach, giving it a squeeze. "You ready to go into the City?"

Play starts in the replies.

The angel markets were a terrible place and Sam kind of hated his brother for bringing him to one. But Dean was insistent in wanting to get Sam an angel for his birthday, even though Sam had made no bones about the fact that he hated angel slavery and didn't want one.

The market was a compromise, in a way. The angels here would be cheaper, most likely, because they were second-hand (and didn't Sam just HATE that sort of talk) but it also meant that they might be rescuing an angel from a far worse fate. And Sam was going to be the one to choose the angel Dean bought.

Angels had been enslaved centuries. They were, by most, considered to be about the mental equivalent of a really smart cat with the ability to follow orders like a dog, only able to follow more complex commands. They could understand pretty much any human language, but they couldn't speak them. Sam still wasn't certain how, exactly, that equated to 'too stupid to be considered a person', but apparently it did. They didn't age once they reached their mid twenties, though they could die. Historians said that they were called 'angels' simply because of the wings on their backs.

Just the sight of so many crowded in the warehouse where the market was held made Sam sick, though. The pain in the room was nearly palpable, though he wasn't certain how Dean could ignore it. He pushed through it, looking around the room. There were angels everywhere, with wings of every hue. He knew some of those would be dyed, as owners were likely to do, but many of them would be natural. The religious imagery of angels said that their wings would all be white. The physical Angels, though, had wings of all colors. Some of them were even multi-colored, which was in vogue at the moment.

Turning, Sam's eye caught on a pair of black wings. Fashionable around the time that Sam was born, he knew they'd fallen out of favor. The wings themselves were ragged and obviously hadn't been well taken care of in a while. The angel himself was scruffy, with five o'clock shadow and dirt, which meant he had probably been in the market for a while.

What really got Sam, though, was the fact that Crowley was looking the angel over. He knew damned well that Crowley owned the local brothel. Before he realized exactly what he was doing, he had crossed the room and looked to the man holding the chain. "How much?"

He didn't want an angel. But there was something about this one that made his blood boil at the thought of Crowley even touching him.

It had been a very long day so far. For Sam, that day mostly meant waiting, fidgeting with the present in his hands.

More than a few of the others had watched him as they waited, wondering what he was doing here and, more than once, Sam had found himself wondering the same. The Novaks were a family with a lot of wealth and a lot of connections, political and otherwise. He'd done his research. The family was full of Alphas and Betas, insinuated into massive companies and running more than a few of their own. They were old money and old power and most of those who had come to court were the same.

Not Sam. Certainly, the Winchesters were an old family, but they weren't wealthy by a long shot. They were involved in law enforcement, which wasn't exactly a rich occupation to begin with. Sam was going to law school, but his interest wasn't in making money but in helping people and putting away those who abused their positions and their power. But, long ago, John Winchester had made a promise to the Novak family because Mary Campbell had mated him rather than Michael Novak. That one of his children would be offered as a mate to the Novaks should there be a compatible one. It had been a sop, meant to quiet tensions between the families but nobody had thought much of it. Dean had been a Beta and Sam had been an Alpha and that seemed that.

Until the Novaks threw an Omega. Not unheard of, but rare. And, suddenly, Sam seemed to be the one Winchester with a chance, small enough though it might be.

He started when he heard his name called, pulling himself to his full height with the present clutched in his hands. He followed Zachariah Novak trying to ignore the feeling of unworthiness. He was an Alpha from a good line. There was no reason, other than money, to think he didn't have a chance here.

Things had been going well lately. Hunts just seemed to fall into their laps, the book Sam needed at the library had just been handed in or just been reshelved, the sheriff or local law looking the other direction when they needed to get to a cemetery for a salt and burn. It had been going really, really well.

It should have occurred to Sam that things were going a little TOO well, honestly. But he didn't even think about it until a knife that should have had his name on it simply ricocheted off his chest, as though he had some forcefield up around him.

Later that night, Sam pulled his overshirt off at the hotel, looking at the spot where the knife had definitely started to pierce the fabric. "Okay. There's definitely something weird going on here."