[Isn't it strange how Fate still has a hand in these things? If John and Sherlock had been limbo'd up to Heaven instead of Hell then Gabriel would more likely than not never met Greg at all. Maybe Sherlock would have come down here as a transfer eventually, but whose to say that things would have happened the same way?

Not that it's important now- events transpired in a way that Gabriel is very pleased about, and he's very pointedly not thinking about ifs and maybes. Not when he has Greg in the here and now, and in the here and now Greg needs him. Princess bounds up the stairs on Greg's heels, leaving Gabriel to shut the front door and follow more slowly.

He arrives when Greg is already stepping into the shower, the curtain doing nothing to hide the bloody mess of feathers. Like head injuries, wing damage often looks worse than it is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Gabriel's own wings spasm in sympathy as the water, stained pink, drains away.]

You remember the watermelon thing? The shield stuff? Maybe you should practise that some more.

[Because okay, this isn't... as bad as it could be, although leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed, Gabriel is failing at keeping the concern out of his voice.]

I... I'd like to have a look at that, when you're out. I might be able to patch it up.

[Raphael was the healer out of them, but Gabriel can do it. And he has patched up Dean after Lucifer had used him as a chew toy. He wants to make sure there's nothing stuck in those wounds that will stop them healing, that might get infected. Greg's wings are beautiful, far more beautiful than anything else Gabriel has seen in Hell. He doesn't want them damaged, not only because it would cause Greg pain, but cause something so gorgeous should be protected.]

You don't often throw yourself out of windows, do you?