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blue_bells» Title: Say After Me
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Dean
» Summary: Castiel is changing and leaving pieces of himself all over Singer's Salvage Yard.
» A/N: Set pre-5x19 (Hammer of the Gods). Originally written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zekkass for Christmas, who asked for Gabriel stepping into the shoes of the protective older brother.
Dean stumbles into the kitchen, bright with the first, sharp rays of the day, and almost walks right into Gabriel's back.
Gabriel is facing the window, hip almost touching the low table. He’s examining something between his fingers, fine and thin, shimmering like a hair in the morning light. Dean’s never seen that soft frown on his face before, it looks too much like concern.
He clears his throat and Bobby’s floorboards creak as he steps intently louder. The entire fridge shakes, bottles jostling noisily when he yanks the door open.
Gabriel ignores him, drawing out whatever it is between his hands. He holds it, short and light, like a piece of string and Dean hovers, bottle of milk almost to his lips, wondering if he's interrupting after all.
“Losing your hair, Gabe? Happens to even the best of us,” Dean says, grabbing a loaf of bread and deciding it's still edible after a quick sniff.
Gabriel runs his thumb and index finger through empty air and for a second, the sunlight catches on that unseen object, glances off the edge like a blade when Gabriel turns it to a different angle.
“It’s Castiel’s feather,” Gabriel says, voice uncharacteristically flat. His fingers pinch like they’re bracing the feather’s spine and he holds it out to Dean. Dean looks from Gabriel’s empty hand to his patiently expectant expression. It's a rare thing for Gabriel to meet his eye with such a straight face, so this is either a very patient joke or something important.
His hand passes through the empty air and doesn’t come up against any resistance or sensation of any kind.
“I don’t feel anything,” Dean says, gruff and disappointed.
"Yeah," Gabriel murmurs, like he'd expected that, and pulls the invisible thing back, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. "You wouldn't, if you can't handle the sight of us."
And, okay, Dean was finding this pensive, broody persona completely unsettling on the trickster.
"... Is Cas all right?" He finally asks, bread slowly wilting in the crush of his hand.
Gabriel's hand drops to his side and he shrugs. "I guess that depends on your point of view."
Dean's eyebrows creep into his hairline, bemused as the angel saunters out of the kitchen, free hand in his pocket and... yeah... Gabriel was walking away. Walking. Not snapping his way to his next destination.
It was way too early in the morning to wonder why an archangel was forgetting himself over a feather.
-*-
"Cas, are you... moulting?" Dean pushes the words through his teeth, rolling the tension back through his shoulders.
Why does it feel like he's sitting a girl down to talk her through her menstrual cycle? He didn't even know if he was right, but he was anxious this could be a horrifyingly awkward topic of conversation for angels. It made Dean awkward just considering it could be awkward. It may not even be something angels acknowledged, but according to Gabriel, Castiel was moulting all over Bobby's property and if Dean could only see, it would have looked like a sea of glass with a thousand refractions. It was definitely an image to consider at a sunset like this, with the sun sinking behind a cloud of peach and electric orange.
It had been one of their quieter days, bent over research and only rising for food. Dean was stir crazy and found Castiel on one of the higher car stacks when he went walking. It was almost as though Castiel had been waiting for him.
Castiel's eyes narrow at him from his perch, and doesn't he look imperious?
"Moulting?"
"You know, when birds--"
"I know, Dean. I'm not a bird, I --" Castiel blinks at him and his brow pinches in stern surprise. "Can you see them?"
"No," Dean shakes his head and regrets it when Castiel's shoulders slouch in disappointment. "Is it bad?"
Castiel's head tilts for a moment, like an involuntary tic he can't quite repress. He smiles wryly at the far, rolling hills towards the highway.
"Only my grace."
Dean stares. He looks over his shoulder at the lot of rusted cars and work benches and tries to imagine what Castiel sees. So many feathers like broken shards over every surface. He read in one of their books that angels could have as many as three or more pairs of wings, and they weren't like the wings of birds, but heat and Heaven and ice and power, but all he can imagine is glass and he thinks it would be blinding.
"I'm sorry, Cas."
Castiel's eyes flick back to him, reflecting grey and gold in the dusk. Dean sees him swallow and then he's gone.
-*-
Gabriel finds him leaning against the tallest of the pine trees in the plantation a twenty minute drive from Bobby's salvage yard.
"You've got a choice, you know."
"I'll still fight," Castiel grinds out without hesitation.
Gabriel sighs and turns his brother to face him with a hand on his shoulder. Castiel's expression dares him to challenge, but beneath Jimmy's skin, the flare of his grace stutters like the flame of a candle bent by the wind.
Gabriel's hand tightens on his shoulder.
"You'd be okay... being human, it can be good. Although the pounds stay on and your flesh will bruise, but you'd get away with so much more if you would have fun with it."
Castiel glowers at him. "I've seen humans' fun in their bars, jails and their whorehouses--"
"Oh, but there's Disneyworld and Oktoberfest and Hogmanay… and dessert. So many desserts – and sex!" Gabriel reasons, trailing off in defeat at Castiel's belligerently uncooperative glare. "Cas, there's so much down here you could enjoy in the detail, you never would have seen this stuff in the clouds. Come on, this is what you're fighting for!"
"I'm fighting for life, not indulgence! I'm dying for free will and right and -- you have done so much worse, why do you keep your powers when I'm the one trying--?"
Gabriel could have pointed to the evident 'archangel' predisposition, but this felt like one of those more rhetorical moments, so he raises his hands in defense.
"Chill, bro. You're scared; that's just the humanity talking."
Castiel moves away when Gabriel reaches for him again.
"… I'm trying, Gabriel," Castiel says, hoarse, and this time Gabriel gets his grip on him. Castiel's expression twists into one of pain and his next words are barely a breath of sound, "I’m scared."
"Castiel." Gabriel can't help but gently shake him by the shoulders. "I'm right here."
Castiel looks into his face like he's a stranger. "Don't pretend we know each other, Gabriel. Are you the pagan idol or the archangel? Do you even have your sword?"
Gabriel's eyes narrow and the silver blade flashes between them with a flick of his wrist. Hmm. It's heavier than he remembers.
"You can be scared and cry to your pillow, or you can join me to kick some ass despite your fear," Gabriel tells him, voice abruptly breaking into a light jaunt, "You should know I come packaged with some serious weapons of mass destruction -- and Krakatoa? That was all me."
Castiel studies him, doubtful. "You're going to fight?"
"Probably die trying," Gabriel shrugs. He cracks a grin. "But hey, once more unto the breach's a lot easier with company, right?"
He offers his hand and Castiel stares at it with growing confusion, but Gabriel smiles, squeezing warmly when he finally takes it.
"And I'm your brother; Gabriel. Nice to meet you."
Castiel trembles when Gabriel's grace hauls him in for a hug, but when Castiel’s fingers curl into his jacket, Gabriel just laughs softly against his ear and holds on.
It could be nice to have a brother again.
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Dean
» Summary: Castiel is changing and leaving pieces of himself all over Singer's Salvage Yard.
» A/N: Set pre-5x19 (Hammer of the Gods). Originally written for
zekkass for Christmas, who asked for Gabriel stepping into the shoes of the protective older brother.Dean stumbles into the kitchen, bright with the first, sharp rays of the day, and almost walks right into Gabriel's back.
Gabriel is facing the window, hip almost touching the low table. He’s examining something between his fingers, fine and thin, shimmering like a hair in the morning light. Dean’s never seen that soft frown on his face before, it looks too much like concern.
He clears his throat and Bobby’s floorboards creak as he steps intently louder. The entire fridge shakes, bottles jostling noisily when he yanks the door open.
Gabriel ignores him, drawing out whatever it is between his hands. He holds it, short and light, like a piece of string and Dean hovers, bottle of milk almost to his lips, wondering if he's interrupting after all.
“Losing your hair, Gabe? Happens to even the best of us,” Dean says, grabbing a loaf of bread and deciding it's still edible after a quick sniff.
Gabriel runs his thumb and index finger through empty air and for a second, the sunlight catches on that unseen object, glances off the edge like a blade when Gabriel turns it to a different angle.
“It’s Castiel’s feather,” Gabriel says, voice uncharacteristically flat. His fingers pinch like they’re bracing the feather’s spine and he holds it out to Dean. Dean looks from Gabriel’s empty hand to his patiently expectant expression. It's a rare thing for Gabriel to meet his eye with such a straight face, so this is either a very patient joke or something important.
His hand passes through the empty air and doesn’t come up against any resistance or sensation of any kind.
“I don’t feel anything,” Dean says, gruff and disappointed.
"Yeah," Gabriel murmurs, like he'd expected that, and pulls the invisible thing back, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. "You wouldn't, if you can't handle the sight of us."
And, okay, Dean was finding this pensive, broody persona completely unsettling on the trickster.
"... Is Cas all right?" He finally asks, bread slowly wilting in the crush of his hand.
Gabriel's hand drops to his side and he shrugs. "I guess that depends on your point of view."
Dean's eyebrows creep into his hairline, bemused as the angel saunters out of the kitchen, free hand in his pocket and... yeah... Gabriel was walking away. Walking. Not snapping his way to his next destination.
It was way too early in the morning to wonder why an archangel was forgetting himself over a feather.
"Cas, are you... moulting?" Dean pushes the words through his teeth, rolling the tension back through his shoulders.
Why does it feel like he's sitting a girl down to talk her through her menstrual cycle? He didn't even know if he was right, but he was anxious this could be a horrifyingly awkward topic of conversation for angels. It made Dean awkward just considering it could be awkward. It may not even be something angels acknowledged, but according to Gabriel, Castiel was moulting all over Bobby's property and if Dean could only see, it would have looked like a sea of glass with a thousand refractions. It was definitely an image to consider at a sunset like this, with the sun sinking behind a cloud of peach and electric orange.
It had been one of their quieter days, bent over research and only rising for food. Dean was stir crazy and found Castiel on one of the higher car stacks when he went walking. It was almost as though Castiel had been waiting for him.
Castiel's eyes narrow at him from his perch, and doesn't he look imperious?
"Moulting?"
"You know, when birds--"
"I know, Dean. I'm not a bird, I --" Castiel blinks at him and his brow pinches in stern surprise. "Can you see them?"
"No," Dean shakes his head and regrets it when Castiel's shoulders slouch in disappointment. "Is it bad?"
Castiel's head tilts for a moment, like an involuntary tic he can't quite repress. He smiles wryly at the far, rolling hills towards the highway.
"Only my grace."
Dean stares. He looks over his shoulder at the lot of rusted cars and work benches and tries to imagine what Castiel sees. So many feathers like broken shards over every surface. He read in one of their books that angels could have as many as three or more pairs of wings, and they weren't like the wings of birds, but heat and Heaven and ice and power, but all he can imagine is glass and he thinks it would be blinding.
"I'm sorry, Cas."
Castiel's eyes flick back to him, reflecting grey and gold in the dusk. Dean sees him swallow and then he's gone.
Gabriel finds him leaning against the tallest of the pine trees in the plantation a twenty minute drive from Bobby's salvage yard.
"You've got a choice, you know."
"I'll still fight," Castiel grinds out without hesitation.
Gabriel sighs and turns his brother to face him with a hand on his shoulder. Castiel's expression dares him to challenge, but beneath Jimmy's skin, the flare of his grace stutters like the flame of a candle bent by the wind.
Gabriel's hand tightens on his shoulder.
"You'd be okay... being human, it can be good. Although the pounds stay on and your flesh will bruise, but you'd get away with so much more if you would have fun with it."
Castiel glowers at him. "I've seen humans' fun in their bars, jails and their whorehouses--"
"Oh, but there's Disneyworld and Oktoberfest and Hogmanay… and dessert. So many desserts – and sex!" Gabriel reasons, trailing off in defeat at Castiel's belligerently uncooperative glare. "Cas, there's so much down here you could enjoy in the detail, you never would have seen this stuff in the clouds. Come on, this is what you're fighting for!"
"I'm fighting for life, not indulgence! I'm dying for free will and right and -- you have done so much worse, why do you keep your powers when I'm the one trying--?"
Gabriel could have pointed to the evident 'archangel' predisposition, but this felt like one of those more rhetorical moments, so he raises his hands in defense.
"Chill, bro. You're scared; that's just the humanity talking."
Castiel moves away when Gabriel reaches for him again.
"… I'm trying, Gabriel," Castiel says, hoarse, and this time Gabriel gets his grip on him. Castiel's expression twists into one of pain and his next words are barely a breath of sound, "I’m scared."
"Castiel." Gabriel can't help but gently shake him by the shoulders. "I'm right here."
Castiel looks into his face like he's a stranger. "Don't pretend we know each other, Gabriel. Are you the pagan idol or the archangel? Do you even have your sword?"
Gabriel's eyes narrow and the silver blade flashes between them with a flick of his wrist. Hmm. It's heavier than he remembers.
"You can be scared and cry to your pillow, or you can join me to kick some ass despite your fear," Gabriel tells him, voice abruptly breaking into a light jaunt, "You should know I come packaged with some serious weapons of mass destruction -- and Krakatoa? That was all me."
Castiel studies him, doubtful. "You're going to fight?"
"Probably die trying," Gabriel shrugs. He cracks a grin. "But hey, once more unto the breach's a lot easier with company, right?"
He offers his hand and Castiel stares at it with growing confusion, but Gabriel smiles, squeezing warmly when he finally takes it.
"And I'm your brother; Gabriel. Nice to meet you."
Castiel trembles when Gabriel's grace hauls him in for a hug, but when Castiel’s fingers curl into his jacket, Gabriel just laughs softly against his ear and holds on.
It could be nice to have a brother again.
Sandra
Date: 2011-02-01 04:05 pm (UTC)Re: Sandra
Date: 2011-02-02 07:06 am (UTC)