Fic - Shape the Invisible
Title: Shape the Invisible
Book Three: In the House of Stone and Light
Author: Lady Eternal
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 75,446
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Fractured fairy-tale. Heaven's prison. Sam’s Powers. Pre-series/Season 1. Bareback. Fellatio. Wing Kink. First Time. Zachariah is a dick in any universe. Bobby Singer = Grumpy Bear. Pining!Castiel. Virgin!Castiel. Bottom!Dean. Bottom!Gabriel.
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, certain events would NEVER have happened and there would be unabashed pr0n. I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and am only playing with these worlds for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.
Author’s Notes: Please see the Master Post for complete summary, warnings and acknowledgements.
Feedback is adored, so if you like the fic, please comment! And the more details the better; I love knowing what people like about my work.
Music:
Temple of Love - Sisters of Mercy
Shape the Invisible - Martin Page
Breath of Life - Florence and the Machine
The Light - Disturbed
The Sweetest Taboo - Sade
~ooooOOOoooo~
The words were so simple. So calmly spoken. And yet they drove through Sam like a spear, his eyes burning as they held Gabriel’s gaze.
Gabriel loved him.
Gabriel loved him.
“So it looks like you’re the one with a choice,” Gabriel went on, still addressing his eldest brother. “You can let me and Cassi go hang out with Freyja and her girls for the rest of time while the boys go back home armed with enough information to possibly stymie Azazel for another couple generations… or you can try to lock up one set of us or the other and see how much of Heaven gets ripped down during the next rescue mission we mount.”
“I don’t think-”
“Actually…” Another voice, coming from a few feet away. Everyone’s eyes darted to the newcomer. Startlingly human-looking by all accounts, he was shorter than Dean by almost a full head, with short brown hair and beard to match. He was being escorted by a pair of twin angels, each looking as plain as sparrows in a covey of peacocks, and his eyes were a bright, piercing gray-blue. “There’s an option that you’re all ignoring… and I really think it’s about time somebody put it on the table for consideration.”
Michael was shaking now, his nut-brown eyes wide with shock. His grip relaxed enough that Gabriel ducked free of the choke hold, through the ArchHerald was staring as incredulously as the rest of the angels were. “This is a matter for the Host,” Michael said, his voice trembling just enough to be heard by even human ears. “It isn’t necessary-”
“It is,” the stranger told him, a stern firmness in place that made even Michael’s authority pale. “And thinking that you could contain this so that I wouldn’t find out and decide to intervene is treading dangerously close to vanity, Michael. You know whose Will you were made to serve. Now let your brother up off his knees and stand down.”
Without even a trace of hesitation, Michael did as he was ordered, stepping away from Gabriel and standing at parade rest. Slowly, Gabriel stood and shook out his wings before folding them back, eyes never leaving the man that had commanded his release as he nodded once, silent and grateful.
Nodding back, the man turned to Sam and Dean. “Okay, boys: I think we need to have a talk. But not here; it’s a little too disruptive.”
“We ain’t going anywhere,” Dean argued immediately, distrust plainly written on his face. “Sure as Hell not turning my back on el Commandante up there, either.”
A small, almost nervous smile tucked into the corners of the mouth almost hidden by the man’s dark brown beard. “Michael is many things, but willfully disobedient isn’t one of them. He’s going to wait right here until we’ve settled this to my satisfaction, and then everybody’s getting marching orders.”
Another retort started in Dean’s mouth, but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder and it died away. “It’s all right, Dean. Yeshua’s orders may not be disobeyed by any angel under Heaven. He will not doublecross us, and will judge this matter fairly.”
Dean’s eyebrows knitted quizzically even as Sam made the connection, and then Sam was staring at the man in unmitigated shock. “You… you’re God?”
“Actually, I’ve been going by Chuck lately,” the little man replied with a wry sparkle in his eyes. “And at the moment, I’m manifested as only one of Our three Aspects. But technically… yeah. I Am.”
* * *
Landing after their location shift wasn’t as disorienting as it had been before. Between one blink and the next, everything around them was different: no longer the wild green of the Third Heaven, but a two-tiered deck with wrought-iron patio furniture and a Jacuzzi overlooking a vast private yard. Paths of crushed stone wound around the property, and the cultivated gardens were filled with fruit-bearing shrubs and fragrant herbs. There was a fire-pit not far from the lower deck, and a garage large enough to be another house could be seen just beyond a line of evergreens.
“Where are we?” Dean asked, a hard, mistrustful edge still in his voice. Castiel had stayed behind with Gabriel and the surprisingly large contingent of angels that had shown up in response to Kushiel’s call for allies. Chuck had assured both Winchesters that the twin angels Metatron and Sandalphon would prevent the others from taking any action of any kind while they were gone, but Sam knew his brother. As far as Dean was concerned, his family was safest where he could see them, because if he could see them, he could protect them.
“Your place,” Chuck replied, lifting His hands out of the deep pockets of His robe to open the sliding glass door that led into the house behind them.
Dean’s eyes narrowed on Chuck even as Sam’s eyes swept the room they were led into, drinking in the dark brown, overstuffed leather sectional; the rich, soothing forest green of the walls. The subtle, sleek and undeniably comprehensive entertainment center that took up almost an entire wall, more indulgent than anything the brothers had ever had and yet exactly everything they’d ever wished they could. “This is… is this…?”
“Heaven.” Chuck nodded, gesturing around with a soft smile. “Specifically, yours and Dean’s. It’s not uncommon for people that have powerful soul connections to share one, and your bond is more powerful than most because of who you both are. But for the most part, all humans have their own… we’ll call it a pod, for lack of a better term, where it’s exactly what would make them happiest. You can’t blend too many souls into a single Paradise, or it starts to crack under the stress.” One eyebrow quirked. “But I think the rest of the nickel tour can wait, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Sam glanced at Dean, then back at Chuck. “So… what now?”
“Not much, really.” Chuck gestured at the couch and the brothers moved to sit: stiffly at first, until the scruffy deity gave them an expectant, somewhat exasperated look and slouched down into the corner of the sectional beside them. “I already know how you both feel. And, unlike Michael, I don’t have to be convinced that it’s genuine. It’s also probably not a bad idea, all things considered, that you two be prepared for some of the things that may happen in the next few years, and both Gabriel and Castiel are well-suited to that goal.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed to miniscule slits of glittering hazel. Dean caught up in a heartbeat, then turned to stare at Chuck in enraged shock as Sam found his voice. “You,” Sam almost growled. “This was never about Gabriel trying to block Azazel from getting to me, and it wasn’t just two people meeting and connecting because of happenstance. You set us up.”
When Chuck didn’t deny it, merely met Sam’s gaze with a small smile of approbation, it launched the youngest Winchester to his feet in a towering fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? What they did to Gabriel? You manipulated us like pieces on a board; did you even give a damn what that did to us?” Chuck still didn’t answer, and Sam’s fury swept him up despite Dean’s attempts to subtly reel his brother back in. It didn’t matter that they were facing down God; Sam was incensed. “And what about Dean and Castiel? Is that your doing, too? Just positioning us for the sake of some cosmic chess game that you’re playing with Lucifer? Because if it is, I swear: we will take Caine up on his offer and-”
“You think my grandson’s offer is something that hasn’t already been planned around?”
The voice cut through Sam’s diatribe, as smooth as glass. Chuck never moved as He sat under the weight of Sam’s anger, His expression now the definition of ineffable. “The way I look to you right now? This is a Vessel, Sam: one I was only able to create with the help of a beautiful, brave and incorruptible young woman; and even it can only hold one Aspect of Me. The truth of what I am means that I can’t turn My abilities on and off like my children can, which means I can’t avoid Seeing. I can’t not know.
“So yeah: I knew exactly what would happen and how much it was going to suck. But I also know what would’ve happened if you two hadn’t met that night. I know what would’ve happened if your mother had come into your nursery the night Azazel came to you, or if she’d never made the deal with Azazel and you two’d never been born. You can believe me or not, but what you’ve been through in the past few years is nothing compared to the alternatives.”
In the silent, echoing aftermath, Dean finally managed to get hold of his brother’s wrist and pull Sam back down onto the couch. His instincts were at war with each other at the moment, and the fastest way to quiet them was to have Sam close. “So what now?” he asked finally, a little surprised by how rough his voice sounded. “You wanted us to storm the gates and give you an excuse to pry Michael’s chokehold off angel-human relations. What’s next?”
It might have been his imagination, but Sam was almost sure that it took Chuck a second too long to tear His eyes away from him… almost as if… “For now, you four go home,” He told Dean. “Sam and Gabriel go back to their penthouse in California and Sam goes to law school; you and Castiel travel and hunt and keep Eve’s children and Lilith’s demons in check.”
“For now?” Dean echoed, his eyebrow lifting slightly. “Meaning something’s gonna happen later.”
Another second too slow. This time, Sam was sure what it meant, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “There’s no way to stop it,” he said softly, watching Chuck’s eyes snap back to him. There was a shadow in them that Sam knew he shouldn’t have been able to see; a hurt even more ancient than Caine’s that could never truly go away. “The prophecy about us… about Michael and Lucifer… there’s no way to keep it from happening.”
A smile touched His lips again, surprised and tremulous and almost human. “No,” He admitted, the word brutal and gentle all at once. “I wish there was. You accused Me of playing a game, arranging you all like pieces on the board. Follow the metaphor to the end, Sam.”
Sam glanced once at Dean, a question in his eyes. Dean’s face was knitted with hesitation, with concern for Sam first and foremost, just as it had always been. But then Dean’s hand was folding into Sam’s in the space between them on the couch, and Dean’s expression smoothed out into something like certainty just before he nodded. “I’m right here,” he assured Sam softly. “Never going anywhere.”
Nodding back, Sam closed his eyes. Taking a breath, he tried to center and focus. To See. He was concentrating so hard on trying, he almost missed the faint rustle of fabric just before Chuck’s hand came to rest on his upper arm.
* * *
Images. Snatches of sound. They came fast; so fast; too fast to process at first. So much. Too much. He wasn’t meant to see this much it was too big he couldn’t contain it all…
*It’s all right.* A voice that was and wasn’t familiar. His father. Chuck. The grandfathers he’d never known and the sons he’d never have and beings he’d never met. *You can.*
Instinct. A tether that he’d never been able to find before until it was over. Except it was right there this time: crimson and quicksilver, thrumming with life as he let it wrap around his wrist and fold into his fingers.
*I’m right here.* Dean’s voice this time, echoing from the warm golden candleflame that was his brother’s soul. *You got this, little brother.*
It was easier this time. Less overwhelming. The vastness of it all was still too much, but the edges were blurring into view, and with them, the shape of something Sam had never imagined before. He held a breath that wasn’t there as he felt it translate down to Dean, felt the way his brother shuddered under the weight but held fast, refusing to let it buckle him.
And all of a moment, Sam understood.
* * *
Coming back was far gentler than anything Sam had ever experienced before: like surfacing from a deep dive that he’d meant to take and was completely prepared for and practiced and had plenty of oxygen in his lungs before he went under. Dean was still there beside him, their hands entwined, and when Sam’s eyes came back into focus, his brother’s wide-blown eyes were the first things he saw.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice was almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure it would really be Sam inside his brother’s skull.
There was enough of an echo left of what Sam had caught a glimpse of that it made Sam ache. “I’m okay,” he assured his brother, tightening his fingers around Dean’s. “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” Dean lied, his lips curling in the smile that fooled everyone but Sam. He didn’t know yet how to process his own perception of what they’d seen, or even what it meant that he’d also been able to see it. All he knew was that they were still linked enough that he could sense they were both thinking the same thing.
They both just wanted to take their angels and go home.
It surprised neither of them when Chuck let out a soft sound somewhere between comfort and amusement from where He still sat behind them. “That can be arranged.”
* * *
By the time they got back to where the angels were waiting, the echoes from the Seeing had largely faded. Gabriel’s golden eyes guarded in a way that reminded Sam sharply of Dean as they approached, and Sam held himself back only long enough to see Castiel fold Dean into his arms for a relieved hug.
Heedless of Gabriel’s position in the Host and very much not caring what anyone watching might think, Sam slid his arms under Gabriel’s and lifted, pinning the angel between the tree under which they’d all gathered to wait and the hard line of his hips. A long, low moan broke in the archangel’s throat just as Sam sealed their mouths together, nimble fingers of both hands gliding up into Sam’s hair and tangling there while Sam kissed him dizzy.
“I love you, too,” Sam murmured when he finally left off kissing in favor of oxygen. “And I’m gonna show you just how much when we get home.”
A grin broke on that sensual mouth, delighted and bright as the sunrise. It was better than anything Sam had ever pictured, in the moments when he’d dared to wish for it. “I’m dunno, gorgeous. On the scale of grand romantic gestures, it might take something pretty kinky to top breaking into Heaven to bust me outta jail.”
“Now that is an image I could’ve lived my entire life without,” Dean groused from the sidelines. His arm was still around Castiel’s waist, and the angel tucked just a fraction closer into the embrace in response. “Seriously, you two: you’re gonna need to tone it down when I’m in earshot, or I’m gonna stock up on Nair.”
“Bring it, Winchester,” Gabriel challenged as Sam set him down. “I’ve never lost a prank war in my life.”
“Could you children possibly reserve the posturing for when you get back to Earth?” Michael looked like someone had just poured salted lemon juice into an open wound.
“Oh, let them enjoy the moment, Michael,” reproved a dark-skinned angel who was standing nearby. He had wings and hair like liquid sunlight, and looked entirely amused by the exchange. “This is going to be the easy part, and we all know it.”
Chuck looked at the two of them, something gentle but unyielding in His face. “You both know what you have to do.”
The sunshine-winged angel nodded, the amusement in his expression fading to chagrin. “It’ll be complete by the time they land.”
By the time Sam had registered that the angel had to be the Archangel Uriel, who had cast the second half of the curse, Gabriel was tightening his grip on Sam’s hand and reality was spinning away.
* * *
“This is really getting kinda old.” The annoyance in Dean’s grumble pulled an involuntary snicker out of Sam as their senses started to clear. They were back on Earth, lying on hard-packed, sun-warmed dirt. “Have I mentioned to everybody that I fucking hate flying? Because I think I’ve decided I hate interdimensional flying even more.”
“Duly noted, sunshine.” Gabriel’s voice was a master class in sarcasm from somewhere behind Sam’s right shoulder. The sound made Sam’s heart skip. “Next time, we’ll let you walk back.”
“Fuck that,” Dean snapped. “I’m never going anywhere my car can’t ever again.”
Sam could hear Dean moving, pushing up from the ground with a grunt that meant ‘this is so much more uncomfortable than I want Sam to know about’. He could understand how Dean felt: Sam’s entire body felt like he’d been running for weeks with no rest, and his throat felt tight as if from dehydration. He wanted to move, wanted to see Gabriel and figure out where they were and eat an entire plate of barbecue ribs and then maybe, maybe consider going back to the penthouse in Palo Alto.
It really was too bad that his body hadn’t caught up to any of that, though, because Sam was pretty sure his brain was telling his muscles what to do and his muscles were responding with a resounding chorus of ‘fuck off’. Which was really highly inappropriate, in Sam’s opinion. His plans for the next several days did involve being occasionally completely unable to move, but that was supposed to be after several hours of mind-blowing sex.
Both Gabriel and Dean seemed to notice in the same instant, and Dean let out a half-formed squawk of protest that Sam didn’t understand until he felt Gabriel’s hands on his spine. Grace seemed to pool down from those hands and suffuse through his entire body, washing away the throbbing, bone-deep ache and the screaming tension that had kept Sam’s eyes firmly screwed shut.
“Thanks,” he murmured, finally able to make his hands slide into position and his arms push his body upright. Dean was there seconds later, helping him balance and clearly trying to assess what Sam needed. There wasn’t even a trace of self-consciousness as Sam lifted just enough to turn and slumped back down, his back fitted against Dean’s chest and his head tipped back onto his brother’s shoulder. Dean slid his arms around Sam on instinct, his own head tipping tiredly down until his chin rested on Sam’s shoulder.
Castiel was still here: a steady presence at Dean’s back, keeping his back supported while he supported Sam. And Gabriel… Sam’s eyes half-opened to see Gabriel sitting to the right of his outstretched legs, hovering like he wasn’t sure how to fit himself into the equation now that his freedom had been won. Wearily lifting one hand, Sam reached out and snagged the front of the midnight sapphire tunic his mate was still wearing, pulling just enough for Gabriel to get with the program and scramble over Sam’s right legs into the vee between them, curling into Sam’s embrace like a teddy bear desperately in need of comforting.
How long they stayed that way, leaning on one another and soaking in the sunlight, none of them could say. Eventually, they would have to move. Find out where they were. Arrange transport home. Figure out what all of this meant in the face of what they now knew to be inevitable events and determine what their next steps would be. Have as much sex as any of them could possibly stand. They couldn’t just stay clustered together on this nameless patch of sun-baked earth forever. But for now… just for now… this was all Sam wanted in the world.
Because against all odds, they’d won.
Chapter Seven