"Nice, you're allergic to Hell. Well done." Gabriel can't help the grin that time, not bothering to keep the amusement about of his voice when he says it. Anyone that close to hell would have more than what Sam is, and Gabriel knows the Winchester should count his dammed lucky stars or whatever it is hunters use to bless themselves with. Was it Diana? Gabriel really couldn't remember or be bothered to.

Oh. Now angel juice was a whole problem Gabriel doesn't want to touch right now. It's a long conversation and in all fairness he simply just doesn't want to admit it either, especially to Sam. They may have parted on okayish terms but Gabriel knows that he's screwed the Winchesters over properly before now, and no way will he point out he has weak spots now.

"I could. But why should I? You'll get better on your own in a day or two, considering it a lesson learned for touching shit you shouldn't have."