Blessed is his Child 5/10
Title: Blessed is His Child (5/10)
Parts: Previous Parts
Authors: ameonna1 and kijikun
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Dean, Gabriel/Sam
Betas: sweetsyren
Word Count: 9,348
Warnings: AU, Minor language, sexual situations, implied angel!cest, Baby fic, no m-preg
Spoilers: Up to 5x10
A/N: So many words, and I personally apologize for the cliffhanger - Ame
Summary: Lucifer remembers. Michael forgets. And the Winchesters and Angels try to recharge and regroup.
“There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love.” -Susie Switzer
When the world was new and everything was as it should be, Lucifer was the Morningstar and he lived in a bower with his mate. He had a mate, a lover, a confidant, a brother... Now he has nothing.
Michael is writing, carefully working long flowing symbols into intricate patterns before he sets it into parchment permanently when Morningstar slips into their home, carefully holding a precious slumbering shape to his chest. The Morningstar settles next to him, smug and preening, basking in the warmth of his mates wings.
"Does Gabriel know that you've made off with his fledgling again?" Michael asks dryly. He doesn't sound exactly pleased. Everyone knows that Castiel is afraid of him. Only the Morningstar knows how much it actually bothers the Archangel.
"It isn't my fault that Anael is such a terrible watcher," the Morningstar huffs, nuzzling gently against soft shadows.
Castiel is a warm weight against him, deeply asleep. He couldn't help it, Gabriel was off doing something for Father, and Anael was arguing with Barachiel about some silly nonsense. Anything could have come along and harmed the fledgling. He's just being a good brother. If the others worry it's their own fault. Michael is pretending to ignore them, shuffling parchment about as the Morningstar sings silly nonsense words to the sleeping angel, but he sees it; the occasional glances, full of longing and love.
He doesn't know why Father had given the fledgling to Gabriel. Gabriel didn't even have a mate! Honestly, it was all probably some sort of silly test or gambit to get Gabriel to settle down and stop pouting every time Father called him.
It's quiet and peaceful, until the snuffling starts and then the inevitable whimper. Michael sighs, and the Morningstar frowns, in a moment Castiel is going to start howling and then everyone is going to know where he is. And Michael will be upset.
"Hush, you. Are you really going to be afraid of him forever?" the Morningstar rocks Castiel in his lap and smooths his tiny wings down as the little slip of sapphire and shadow clings to him. "Michael is supposed to look frightening. He's suppose to lead armies for goodness sakes. I know he's strong and big but he's our brother, and he would never, ever hurt us. Isn't that right, Michael?"
The Morningstar glares at his mate, and Michael smiles, trying to tuck his wings behind him as far back as he could. "Of course I wouldn't. It's my job to keep you safe."
Castiel peers dubiously at Michael from where he has had face hidden against the Morningstar's shoulder before hiding again.
"See? We're safe here," the Morningstar murmurs against the top of Castiel's head before kissing the mess of shadows.
Castiel huffs and grumbles but it's interrupted by a yawn and he settles, seeming content to just stare at Michael from where he was, one tiny fist rubbing at his eyes. The Morningstar rocks him until he wriggles and turns, wrapping little fingers around the Moringstar's, peering around but careful to look away from Michael when the bigger Archangel glances up.
"Now, where has Gabriel gotten off to, you think?" Michael asks conversationally from behind a sheet of parchment. Castiel perks up, and the Morningstar smiles. The child does adore his keeper, perhaps that was why Father left the little one to him. Stranger things have happened.
"I'm not sure," the Morningstar drawls. "I didn't see him with Anael, do you think he's working?"
"Messages!" Castiel chirps, bouncing in the Morningstar's lap.
"Messages?" Michael asks, his voice is pleased, indulgent and Castiel nods, fear forgotten in the moment.
"In Egypt," Castiel says very matter-of-factly.
"I see. Has Gabriel shown you Egypt?" Michael is smiling now, his hands folded in front of him, the parchment cast aside.
"Yes," Castiel says smartly, "We saw a crocodile and beetles and a baboon."
"A baboon? Really?" The Morningstar asks.
Castiel makes a face. "I didn't like it."
Michael chuckles and Castiel grins. The Morningstar is relieved, he didn't want it to be ages before the fledgling stopped being afraid of his own brother.
"Well, what did you like?" Michael smiles.
Castiel screws up his eyes, thinking for a moment before practically shrieking. "Birds! They have wings! Like me!"
Michael laughs and Castiel squirms until the Morningstar lets him go and the fledgling slides off his lap to sit between them. "Do you like birds?"
"Yes, I'm quite fond of birds," Michael answers, leaning back to get a better look at the fledgling.
"Are they your favorite?" Castiel asks brushing his shadows out of his face.
"My favorite animal?" Michael asks as Castiel nods. "I don't know. I suppose if I picked a favorite it would have to be lions."
"What's a lion?" Castiel breathes, interest coloring his voice.
"Well..." Michael begins. "It's rather like a big cat."
"How big?" Castiel asks, eyes going wide in anticipation.
Michael grins. "Bigger than you, lamb."
Castiel laughs and grabs at the air until Michael picks him up. The Morningstar grins as Castiel bumps his head against Michael's shoulder and smiles. "Take me to see lions."
"Take you? I think Gabriel might be very upset if I did that," Michael strokes his hand over Castiel's head as the fledgling pouts.
"I want to see them," Castiel argues.
"Well..." Michael sighs. "Here."
He sits Castiel down in front of him and very carefully brings his wing around, dragging his hand down the edge of it until a small ball of flame was cradled in his palm. The Morningstar blinks, he's never seen his mate do that before. Michael works the flame into a shape with his fingers as Castiel watches in awe. Finally, the red hot mass cools until it's dark and then as Michael runs his fingers over it, the shape begins to glimmer, until the Archangel has the perfect figure of a lion in his hands.
Castiel squeals as Michael holds it out for him to take. "There. That is what a lion looks like."
"Thank you, Michael! Thank you!" Castiel waves the lion about and the Morningstar sighs, contented as the fledgling launches himself at his mate, laughter filling the air.
Lucifer opens his eyes when he hears the rustling of wings. The sun is barely rising over the steeple of the church's whose roof he's perched on. The city below him is silent, everyone slumbers on ignorant of the danger in their midst, they are blind, they are naive, they are content, and for that he hates them. There's a man standing in front of the steeple before him, at least he appears to be a man. He's smartly dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, covered with an immaculate black wool coat. He's young and handsome, androgynous, with pale gray eyes and dark wavy hair. He looks the perfect picture of a young wealthy socialite.
"Remiel," Lucifer breathes.
"My Lord," the fallen Archangel dips his head in greeting. "You summoned me?"
Lucifer stands and smiles. "Yes, I have a job for you."
***
The house is quiet as Sam leaves his room rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He doesn't remember going to sleep or even going up to his room, but he remembers watching the stars, the cool metal of a junked car under his back, and Gabriel's voice steady and low as he told Sam ancient stories about the constellations. Dean's door is still shut, and Sam doesn't linger outside it. If Cas and Dean are asleep or not, well they deserve to have some early morning hours of peace.
Elle's crib is empty, when Sam gets downstairs, but he can hear Gabriel's voice in the kitchen and Elle's chiming laugh. He picks his way through the stacks of books and around the couch and chair towards the kitchen. Sam leans against the door way, watching Gabriel fiddle in a cupboard with Elle on his hip. Gabriel's talking in that lyrical language to Elle, who's waving her lion at him and pointing at the bowl of strawberries that had appeared at some point during the night. She squirms and and reaches, wriggling in Gabriel's grip, and Sam holds back laughter at how exasperated Gabriel looks.
Gabriel frowns and shifts Elle in his arms before he drops her, then snaps his fingers. A highchair appears, all polished wood and Sam; Sam starts laughing. Gabriel turns and glares at him, which only makes Sam laugh harder.
"Sam!" Elle chirps, squirming more before Gabriel puts her in the highchair.
The baby fusses twisting around in the chair before realizing she's not going anywhere. She scowls up at her Uncles, and waves her lion in the air. "Down," she commands.
"Problems, Gabriel?" Sam asks, moving into the kitchen.
Gabriel snorts. "She's still less grumpy in the morning than her father." He plucks a strawberry from the bowl and hands it to Elle. The offering seems to appease Princess Winchester, as she shows it first to her lion then starts to nibble at it with her baby teeth. "Sleep well, Samuel?"
"Yeah, I don't remember going upstairs though," Sam ruffles Elle's hair. "Ready for a bottle, Elle?"
"Bottle!" Elle confirms.
Gabriel gives Elle another strawberry, then pops one into his own mouth. Sam wonders if they're as sweet and juicy as they look, he hasn't had fresh strawberries in a long time. Gabriel had to have mojo'd them since he's pretty sure strawberries are out of season.
Sam pushes by him to Elle's bottle drying in the dish rack, and snags the can of powder to start mixing up the formula. "How are the strawberries?"
"Perfect, of course," Gabriel says as if it's offensive to assume otherwise. He picks one up and spins off the stem. "Want one?"
"When I'm done fixing Elle's bottle. I don't want her waking the whole house," Sam points out. "Or sending up big 'something angelic is here' signals."
Gabriel chuckles and presses the strawberry to Sam's lips. Sam's hands stop, his breath shudders out, suddenly shaky. He can smell the strawberry, taste it barely on his lips. Sams tongue darts out without conscious thought.
"Open." Gabriel says softly.
Sam inhales, hesitates, then obeys. Gabriel slides the fruit past Sam's lips. It's sweet and Sam bites down chews, then takes another bite, until all that's left his Gabriel's finger tips resting against his lips.
"Kiss!" Elle squeals.
Gabriel's hand jerks away as if he'd been burned. Sam flushes and turns his head away, hurrying to finish up Elle's bottle.
"Do you want a kiss then, cupcake?" Gabriel asks, leaning down to give the little girl a kiss on her cheek. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye as Elle pats Gabriel's cheek. His heart clenches and he wants... he wants...
Elle giggles and gives Gabriel a sticky kiss.
Sam wants this. What Dean has.
Sam runs his tongue over his bottom lip, then turns around with the bottle in hand. "Here, sweetheart," he tells the baby, giving her the bottle.
Elle takes it with the greed only a baby can have and Gabriel chuckles fondly. The Archangel runs a hand over her hair, and Sam swears he can almost see Gabriel weaving protection and love over her with just the sweep of his hand.
"Did Dean bring her down to her crib last night?" Sam asks, with a suddenly dry mouth, needing to say something, anything.
Gabriel doesn't look up, but he rolls his shoulders in a loose shrug. "Cas did, after you fell asleep."
"Oh." Sam takes a strawberry from the bowl, wondering if it'll be as sweet as from...he cuts off the line of thought. "I don't remember falling asleep."
Another loose shrug. "You were tired." Gabriel looks up just as Sam bites into the strawberry, and his eyes darken for a split second. It's over so fast that Sam thinks he's imagined it. "Don't worry I kept your dreams warded."
Sam swallows the fruit. "Thanks."
"I told Castiel about Lucifer. He'll tell Dean," Gabriel tells him, eyes watchful.
"Great," Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He was hoping for a little more time before everyone started hating him again. "I'll stay out of his and Dean's way for a while." The ever present fear spreads in his chest. Fear that he'll lose Dean. That this is the final straw and now that Dean has so much more to protect...
"Don't be over dramatic," Gabriel says dryly like he'd heard Sam's thoughts. And maybe he did. He's probably not as nice as Cas about that whole thing. "Castiel doesn't hate you. You didn't do it on purpose and Lucifer was going to figure it out sooner than later. If Barach put it together, the Morningstar would have."
Sam doesn't comment on the slip, barely notices it because he knows how Dean is going to take this. He knows what Dean's going to think about Sam keeping this from him. It'll be another lie, another reason Sam can't be trusted
"What would Lucifer do to her?" Sam asks voice strangled, as he watches Elle.
Gabriel lets out a sigh and tilts his head back and forth as if he's weighing options.
"I'm not afraid of him hurting her, Sam," Gabriel says voice low as if he thought someone besides Sam and Elle were listening. "Morningstar... Lucifer resented Father giving Castiel to me. He thought that he and Michael should have been given the fledgling. He was always spiriting Castiel off."
"You're afraid he'll..." Sam can't finish it because suddenly it's his fear as well. He remembers how Lucifer spoke, how he held the lion.
Gabriel turns his head and gazes at Elle, who's happily drinking her bottle in her new highchair. Innocent, and happy, with no concept of what her mere existence has done... Sam wonders if he ever looked like that or if he was tainted beyond innocence even then. "He'll take her and keep her as his own. He might even see it as his due. Something denied to him."
"I don't..." Sam breaks off and shakes his head sharply. As if the sudden movement will make Gabriel's words fit together in a way that makes sense. "How can you be sure?"
"He's my brother, and I know him," Gabriel says, his voice sharp edged. Glass rattles and Elle looks up, suddenly quiet and still. Gabriel soothes her with a hand over her hair. Sam strokes a finger over the back of her tiny hand and she curls her fingers around it.
Elle reaches her hands for him, bottle abandoned. "Up."
Sam opens the highchair and lifts Elle out, holding her to his chest. The gold lion sits in the chair momentarily forgotten. "Hell changed Dean," Sam points out.
Gabriel doesn't say anything for a moment, picking up the lion and tucking it in Elle's arms. "Yeah, it did." The Archangel's hazel eyes are dark, but they don't look away from Sam's. He reaches up and rests two fingers against Sam's lips to keep him from speaking. "But he's still your brother."
Then Gabriel is turning away back towards the counter and the bowl of strawberries. "What do you think Sammy, waffles covered in strawberries for breakfast?" Gabriel asks tone light and easy.
Sam swallows and kisses Elle's head. "Sound's good to me. What do you think Elle? Want to try some waffles this morning?"
"Waffles with strawberries," Elle declares.
***
It's early, early enough that the blankets still contain the best feelings of warmth, of cradling and comfort.
There are fingers trailing up Dean's hip, just barely dipping into the curve beneath his belly before skirting back up to his side in a loop and then coming down to smooth in an uneven line up his spine. He arches into them, half awake and unthinking, and gets a soft warm kiss on the back of his neck for it. His room smells like cotton and old wood and angel; exactly how he wants it. He mumbles something, some half formed thought of concern, something that he was supposed to remember.
"Elle is downstairs with Gabriel and Sam."
Cas' voice is low and Dean can feel the hum of his words against his back. Ah, that was it, last he remembered the kid was in bed with them. Two excited angels telling him about stars and comets and having races in the wide cold swathes between them. Elle had fallen asleep on the bed between him and Cas.
Dean opens his eyes just slightly, he can't tell the time of day from half darkness. There's light spilling in from behind the curtains and Dean thinks maybe he should start moving. "I'll get up," he murmurs, stretching his limbs.
Those clever fingers stroke back up his spine with only the barest hints of pressure. "We can stay in bed a little longer," Cas says softly, nuzzling Dean's ear. Dean tips his head back towards the sound and sensation. "She is fine with them."
"Yeah," Dean agrees as Cas' fingers slip just under the waist of his sleep pants. "Sammy'll take good care of her."
There's a pause behind him, but Dean's still more asleep then awake so the moments slide together and then Cas is kissing him. The angle is awkward, but it's almost more of a nuzzle then a kiss. Dean doesn't mind. He's warm and content. He doesn't have to think about anything but Cas. Dean tries to roll over but Cas cups a hand over Dean's hip holding him in place.
"Let me take care of you," Cas tells him, pressing kisses to Dean's shoulders.
Dean relaxes. He wants to give Cas the things he wants.
Cas' mouth drags across Dean's throat, slow, wet, and gentle. Dean's head falls back, and he lets himself make hushed little sounds of pleasure and contentment. Cas' fingers stroke along his sides, then across his stomach, then up over his chest. Slow and easy, not quite teasing, but nothing urgent.
Like they have all the time in the world.
Dean reaches a hand back to thread his fingers in Cas' hair. He doesn't have to tug because the minute he lifts his head and tilts it back, Cas' mouth is over his. Cas' lips are dry against Dean's, his mouth wet and too hot to be human. The kiss is messy and perfect, and Dean thinks he could do this for days.
Cas' fingers brush against Dean's cock through the soft cotton. Dean's hips press forward and he wonders just when he'd gotten so hard. "Cas."
The words, lyrical and chiming, that Cas speaks against his skin feels like a reward. So Dean breathes out Cas' name again. The hand slides away from his cock, only for fingers to hook around Dean's waist band and tug down the soft cotton.
Dean lifts his hips without being asked and kicks them the rest of the way off. Cas showers his shoulders and neck with kisses, strokes his fingers over the hand print on Dean's shoulder, over the finger marks on Dean's hips.
"Cas," Dean groans in hushed tones. He arches and rolls his hips backwards against Cas. Cas who's gloriously naked behind him, pressing those acres of warm smooth skin against Dean's scarred body.
Dean shifts his leg forward, giving Cas room, asking without words. Cas is the only person Dean would willing beg, but Cas rarely makes him. And then only when Dean needs every ounce of control stripped from him. But that isn't now.
Now is the warmth of blankets, the stillness broken only by gasping breaths and whispered words, the knowledge that this isn't a stolen moment... It's earned. Cas' burning hot skin presses against the length of Dean, his cock hard and leaking against the small of Dean's back.
Another kiss is pressed to the top of Dean's spine. "Dilectus meus candidus et rubicundus electus ex milibus," Cas whispers against his skin; each word a brush of lips against Dean's skin.
Slick fingers part Dean's cheeks, circle his entrance. Dean doesn't remember the lube coming out, but the passing of time feels like molasses in winter, drags each moment out like forever and all Dean can focus on is Cas. Dean shifts his leg further forward and tries to push his hips back at the same time.
"Caput eius aurum optimum comae eius sicut elatae palmarum nigrae quasi corvus," Cas murmurs, nuzzling Dean's hair as he pushes a single finger into Dean.
Dean groans softly, letting his head fall back. Cas' finger moves inside him, hot and slick, setting a easy pace that Dean's hips match. "What is that?" Dean slurs, heat pooling in his stomach.
Cas hums against Dean's skin, then slides in a second finger. The fingers don't move, just rest inside Dean's body. When Dean tries to push back against them, Cas holds his hips still with a hand on his hip. Dean doesn't whimper, he doesn't because Dean Winchester doesn't whimper.
"Oculi eius sicut columbae super rivulos aquarum quae lacte sunt lotae et resident iuxta fluenta plenissima." Cas shifts against him and brushes his lips against Dean's closed eyelids. Dean opens his eyes to see Cas, eyes blown wide, a thin band of blue around pure black, pin pointed with pure light. A little bit of Cas, of the light Dean watched in the sky, bleeding through.
"Cas, c'mon," Dean tells him. There's something too hushed, too reverent about the way Cas is speaking. It feels like praise Dean isn't sure he deserves.
Cas smiles. "Be easy, Dean." Finally, finally, Cas moves his fingers. Drags them slowly out, then pushes them even more slowly back in. He spreads them apart inside Dean's body, stretching Dean far more than he needs.
"I am easy," Dean jokes on a low groan. He still can't move his hips as Cas holds him still, making him just lie there and take.
Dean's rewarded with another slow smile this time pressed against his shoulder. He moves his arm back, the angle awkward, but he finds Cas' skin, the side of his face. Cas kisses his finger tips, kisses the palm of his hand. "Manus illius tornatiles aureae plenae hyacinthis venter eius eburneus distinctus sapphyris."
Cas' hand finally leaves his hip, gliding across Dean's stomach and chest, before palming Dean's cock. Dean arches into the touch, any breath he had to tell Cas to knock off the damn latin lost in a low, long sound of pleasure. Between his hand around Dean's cock and his fingers inside Dean, Cas sets a rhythm that sends pleasure shivering through Dean's veins in a way that Dean could bask in for hours.
Dean can't even bring himself to want urgency, it's too good and he knows Cas will take care of him.
A third finger joins the first two, and Dean can do nothing more than try to give Cas more room. The position doesn't allow him much movement, but Cas seems content and Dean's limbs feel heavy from just waking up. "Ah," Dean whispers, eyes closing again, shutting out the world even more.
"Are you ready for me?" Cas asks in his ear. He always asks. Even when it's rough, even when Dean doesn't want him to ask.
Dean nods and makes a sound that's supposed to be yes but gets tangled in this throat and on his tongue. Cas seems to understand, and his fingers ease out of Dean's body.
Cas presses in. He lifts Dean's leg, arranges him, and slides in all the way in one long movement that leaves Dean shaking, gasping. He can't really thrust like this, but he rocks against Dean. Each little movement sends little sparks of pleasure jumping across Dean's nerves. Cas' hand stripes Dean's cock, his thumb stroking over the tip spreading wetness. Dean gasps and keens, his mouth hanging open.
And just like that Dean finds himself on the edge. His stomach tightens, and he can almost taste it. He just needs... he needs something but Cas keeps it easy, keeps it slow.
"Crura illius columnae marmoreae quae fundatae sunt super bases aureas species eius ut Libani electus ut cedri," Cas whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. He kisses Dean's shoulders, neck, cheek, any part of Dean he can reach. Finally, Cas' tongue runs over his mark on Dean's shoulder, and Dean falls.
"Cas, Cas, Cas." Dean tumbles into his orgasm, gasping and shuddering. He spills over Cas' hand, and everything goes white behind his eyelids.
Cas is still rocking against him, hard and hot inside, when Dean resurfaces. His mouth drags against Dean's neck, and his wet, sticky hand is splayed across Dean's stomach.
"Love you," Dean manages to say, his tongue still heavy.
Behind him, Cas keens, his hips jerking forward. "Guttur...guttur illius suavissimum et totus desiderabilis talis," Cas half wails. The windows shiver as if pressed by wind.
Cas gathers Dean close; buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck and pushes in as deep as he can go. Dean feels the full body shudder as Cas comes, feels him spilling deep inside him. Then Cas sags against him, trembling.
"Est dilectus meus et iste est amicus meus," Cas whispers. "Est dilectus meus."
Dean shifts, letting Cas ease out of him, before turning. He takes in the sight of Cas, lips bitten red, mouth slick, and he has to kiss him. Dean pushes his fingers through Cas' hair, runs his fingertips down Cas' spine. "What was that last part?" Dean asks, not expecting an answer.
"This is my beloved," Cas tells him after a moments hesitation. "Latin... It is not my tongue but it is beautiful."
"Est dilectus meus," Dean whispers back, fumbling the pronunciation but meaning every word. It's a chick flick moment but Dean doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care.
Cas' smile is brighter than the dawn.
***
Castiel stops at the top of the stairs, watching. He'd left Dean cleaned up and sated in bed with a promise to return after checking on Elle. It felt strange to have the time now; to have family again to help take care of things. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until that morning, until he'd been aware that, for now, he had nothing he absolutely had to do. He'd spoken to Gabriel last night of his search for Father and Gabriel told him that he'd sent Barachiel to look into the places that Castiel couldn't. Gabriel had plans, Gabriel had people. Gabriel grinned, familiar and easy, and told him to not worry. Castiel couldn't help but feel that the Archangel was making up for lost time. Or perhaps Gabriel had other reasons.
The noises from downstairs were quiet, hushed and it was the quiet that had made Castiel pause. Sam was on the couch, dozing, a book lying open on his chest and Gabriel stood over him with Elle in the crook of his arm. Gabriel's fingers were clever and quick over Sam's brow, weaving protection and safety as Elle peers down, curious. Gabriel smoothes Sam's hair out of his eyes before walking around the couch and settling on the floor at the younger Winchesters side, talking softly to Elle and rocking her. Castiel blinks, there are chairs free in the living room but...
Slowly, he wonders if he's missed something, because he remembers Michael and the Morningstar. He remembers how mated angels used to sit. In perfect pairs, one below the other.
Sam shifts in his sleep and Castiel sees Gabriel stiffen the exact moment that the human's fingers brush across the back of the Archangel's neck. Sam rests them there and Gabriel sighs, a soft contented noise, and leans his head back to bask in the barest of touches.
Silently, Castiel turns and makes his way back to the bedroom. Elle is fine, safe and he is in no way what Dean would call a "cock block". He can't blame his brother though. Some humans are simply compelling, he's found that out. Though it is odd to think of Gabriel in this way and Sam is not what he would have expected his brother to covet. But then he never expected to find want unfurling in his chest as he pulled Dean's soul from hell.
He stops in the doorway to the bedroom, taking in the sight of Dean tangled in the sheets. At rest, at peace, something so rare for his mate. He knows that they can't hold the storm off forever. Lucifer will try something, or Zachariah or... He cannot allow this to end badly. He can't even entertain the idea anymore. Not with Elle here. He didn't think that there could be any more at stake but now...
"You just gonna stare or you gonna get over here?" Dean's drawl is sleepy but sure.
A smile quirks at the corner of his lips and he wonders how they started coming to him so easily now. Dean's eyes are half open and he's glaring as Castiel shuts the door and slides back into bed. Dean grumbles and tugs at Castiel's shirt until he acquiesces and removes it, letting his mate, his human mate splay across him. Angels hadn't been encouraged to mate since Lucifer fell. It made them soft...
Prone to mistakes...
Human.
Father hadn't made him and his siblings to feel, he'd made them to obey and to obey was all they should have needed. But too much has started to seep in around the edges and Father hadn't been around for a very long time. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him as close as possible. His orders were to protect Dean, and he obeyed. He still obeys, just in his own way. Perhaps they are all still obeying, but there's no one around any longer to tell them how. Zachariah called it chaos, orderless... But Castiel thinks that it might be closer to a sort of freedom.
To free will.
Dean shifts, nosing his way against Castiel's neck before he settles.
Castiel sighs, a soft contented noise. He allows himself to simply be.
***
Something angelic pricks at the back of Gabriel mind. He'd been sitting on the floor pretending to read, listening to Sam turn the pages of his book behind him. Sam's still so tired and Gabriel wonders how much sleep the boy has lost in fear of Lucifer paying a visit.
Gabriel unfolds himself from the floor, rising to his feet. Sam's eyes shift from the large tome in his lap up to Gabriel, and Gabriel would like to flatter himself that it's because Sam doesn't want him moving then curiosity.
He tilts his head to the side slightly... Castiel is with Bobby down in the cellar making sure the panic room sigils and and wards are holding up. Dean is in the kitchen, gun parts strewn across the table as he methodically cleans them. Elle is fast asleep in her crib after spending the first part of the day climbing over every person that would let her and trying her best to get to point B from point A under the power of her own little legs.
So it isn't Cas and it isn't Elle.
Gabriel listens again. It's like the sound of a far off conversation, or a car on the street. Muffled. Two of his sibling approaching the well warded "base" the Winchesters had set up at Bobby's home. It isn't a fast approach, and once... once Gabriel would have known them even at this distance. Something twists inside his chest, and maybe he's been in this body too long.
"Gabriel?" Sam's voice is low, eyes watchful.
Just one damn day, Gabriel thinks. Couldn't they all just have one damn day. "It's..." Then Gabriel hears it. Bickering. And he knows who it is.
He has to laugh because of course they'd be bickering. The twins had found a reason to bicker less than two days after they were made. Michael had once threatened to hang them both from the stars by their ankles if they didn't give everyone a moments peace. "Two more for dinner I think."
Sam sits up. "Two more... Gabriel? Who the hell is coming?" There's fear and accusation there, that makes Gabriel bristle, kills the warmth that spread through him like a traitorous creeping vine while he'd sat there.
"No one any of you need to fear," Gabriel tells him sharply.
Something in his face must have betrayed him, because Sam's fingers encircled his wrist. "Want me to come help you be the welcoming committee?" Sam asks.
Gabriel takes a breath, then shakes his head, then sighs. "You're going to pout if I say no aren't you?"
"I don't pout," Sam grumbles, sitting the book aside. He climbs off the couch, stretching as he does... and Gabriel always forgets how tall Sam is.
"And you don't cry your way through sex either," Gabriel smirks, heading out onto the porch. He can hear the bickering getting closer. Something about a boyfriend... oh this is going to be good.
Gabriel can just picture the face Sam makes as he mutters. "I do not cry through sex."
"Of course you don't," Gabriel chuckles. Because saying "You going to let me find out?" will lead to nothing but trouble. Good and bad trouble. Sam is all sorts of trouble, demon tainted, and in some ways so damn young. He leans against on of the pillars holding up the roof of the porch and waits for his younger siblings to land.
Sam takes up position just behind him, and Gabriel tries not to think about what that would mean if Sam were an angel, just as the sound of wings ripple through the air.
"You didn't even knock!" a female voice snaps.
"Oi, I shouldn't have to knock. There should've been nothing for me to interrupt," Barachiel snaps back.
There's the sound of wings bristling and then the female voice. "Gabriel..."
"Anna?!" Sam yelps.
Gabriel doubles over laughing.
Anna turns slightly and smiles at Sam. "Hi Sam," she says cheerfully, then glares at Gabriel. "Gabriel, did you send this reprobate to find me? Do none of you know how to call or use doors?"
Barachiel snorts, but he's looking at Gabriel and Sam with the sort of speculation that means Gabriel is going to be teased later.
She whips her head around towards Barachiel. "Or knock. Your hands don't look broken, Barach."
Gabriel snaps his fingers and offers his new acquired bowl of popcorn to Sam. It gets him a raised eyebrow, but Sam takes some. And yeah this is going to be good. Gabriel had forgotten how much fun Barachiel and Anael arguing could be.
"Angels don't knock, Anael," Barach points out, yanking his hat off and running his fingers through his hair.
She glares at him. "Anna. I go by Anna now. I only told you that at least a dozen times."
"It's a human name," Barach grumbles. "Father gave you a perfectly good name."
"Well I was a human, and my parents gave me a perfectly good name. I'm now Anna," she tells him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think Father would understand."
Gabriel turns his head slightly towards Sam, ignoring his bickering siblings for a moment. "You knew Anna as human right?"
Sam nods. "Yeah. Well Dean knew her best. So to speak." Color creeps across Sam's face. "Uhm, did Cas know she was coming?"
"She had sex with Dean?" Gabriel asks, because okay that was new information. "She had sex with her brother's... and Dean, what decided to see how many angels he could bang?"
He gets bitchface and a sharp glare for that. "No. Dean wouldn't do that. Not to Cas. They weren't... I don't even think Cas knew what he wanted from Dean yet. He was still reading from Zachariah's playbook then. And Anna was human."
Before Gabriel can respond there's a sudden raise in volume from the arguing pair.
"'Cause I wanted to see my twin sister's human vessel in the all together lettin' some demon paw at her!" Barach's half shouts.
A demon was... "A demon?" Gabriel repeats incredulously. He's had his share of pagan demi-gods and goddesses in his bed over the centuries but he drew the line at demons. He can't imagine any angel, fallen or not, allowing a demon to touch them willingly. And that meant... "What did he do to you?"
Because if some demon dared touch his sister he'll show him just why he was the Angel of Judgment.
"Crowley doesn't do anything I don't want him to," Anna says in a slightly exasperated tone.
"Crowley? As in the demon Crowley who had the Colt?" Sam breaks in.
Anna smiles and nods. "I told him he needed to trust you and Dean and give it to you." Her face falls. "I... I'm sorry it didn't work. I heard about Ellen and Jo, Sam, I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," Sam says, his voice rough.
Gabriel doesn't allow himself to turn and look at Sam. If he looks he'll have to see that open devastation. He'd have to remember that he could have prevented it. So he focuses on Anna, and tries to remember how her grace once looked.
Barachiel has fallen silent and it occurs to Gabriel that he doesn't know who Castiel named Elle for. He never met the woman himself but Cas thought highly of her, and that was good enough for him in this case.
"I'll go give Dean the heads up you're here," Sam says and Gabriel hears him retreat into the house.
"Barachiel, did you fill Anna in on the situation?" Gabriel asks when Sam is gone.
Anna shakes her head. "No, he just said that you and the Winchesters needed assistance. Though I was hesitant after my last encounter with Castiel." She scowls. "Your fledgling sold me out to Zachariah. I'm still not happy about that. And that re-education program Zachariah is running... who thought letting him have any power was a good idea? And don't say Father because the position Father left him in didn't have any power like this."
Gabriel scowls. "Castiel did what?" he demands sharply. Another thing Castiel as been keeping from him?
Anna's face softens. "He did it for Dean though, so I'll forgive him. I think the poor thing was in love with Dean since the moment he pulled him from hell. He just didn't know what to do with it."
Barachiel shrugs. "Mated now though. Reckon Cas figured it out."
"Good," Anna says, bouncing up on the tip of her toes with a bit of the energy Gabriel remembers her having. "Now why am I here? I doubt it was so you could eat popcorn and watch me yell at Barachiel for being an idiot. Which you are, Barach, by the way."
Barachiel glares at her. "Don't see how it's my fault you've gotten all tangled up with a demon that couldn't even come up with an original name."
Anna sniffs. "Crowley is a perfectly fine name."
"And already being used by a demon much older than yours and much higher up on the food chain," Barach snorts.
Gabriel glares at them both and there's the sound of rolling thunder in the distance because he's at the end of his tolerance now. "Are you both quite finished?"
Both angels quiet and look downwards. "Yes, Gabriel," they both say in their own tongue.
"Good," Gabriel raises his chin slightly. "Barachiel, how go the preparations for that mission we discussed?"
"Complete, I can head out at any time. With Zachariah still out of commission things are in a bit of disarray. It should be no problem," Barachiel assures him in their own tongue.
Gabriel nods. "I want you to leave immediately then. The sooner we know how he sides on this, the better." Barachiel will be fine, it's an easy mission and Barachiel is the only one that can pull it off.
Barachiel brings his fists up over his heart and bows his head. "At once, Gabriel."
"Be safe, brother," Gabriel tells him.
He gets a nod before Barachiel launches himself skyward.
"Anna," Gabriel says turning to look at her.
She raises her head. "What do you wish of me, brother?" And it's almost all Anael, the soldier, the garrison leader.
Gabriel feels an anxious clawing at his throat. This is too much like... he shakes it off and forces a smile. That's easy enough, he's had practice at that. He vanishes the bowl of popcorn and produces two candy bars out of thin air and tosses one to her. He switches back to English as he tells her, "Come say hello to the new fledgling."
Anna stands open mouthed for a few moment. "The new fledgling?" she echos back. There's a flash of horror in her eyes. "Gabriel, please tell me that..."
"No, no, as far as I know those rituals are thankfully lost," Gabriel assures her quickly. He can't be upset at her for having the same instinctive fear, she was the one after all that had to put their sister out of her misery. He'd been thankful that Barachiel's optimism and excitement (and knowing several pagan goddess) had kept him from jumping to such a conclusion. "Fertility goddess decided Castiel and Dean needed a little one."
Anna face goes through quite a comical set of expressions, before she just sighs. "That would explain why I heard rumors of Zachariah having a figurative coronary. Crowley thought he'd just popped in on Dean and Cas having sex."
"Yes, about Crowley, we're going to have a long talk about that later," Gabriel tells her. She pales and bites her lip. If this wasn't Anael, who loved humans so, who loved the world so, he would worry that she was on Lucifer's side. "First you're going to come meet our niece."
Gabriel turns and leads her into the house.
***
Some part of Barachiel, some tiny part thought that heaven should probably have better security. Maybe some guards or wards or something. Honestly, he'd been thrown out of pubs for doing less than this. He made his way carefully through the shining city. That was pretty much the best representation of heaven as anything but light and sound. It was... It wasn't what Barachiel remembered. He remembered the light and laughter of heaven. The glorious warmth. This place was... different. He hadn't been back in years, after Gabriel had kipped off and Anael disappearing to Earth more often than not, there hadn't been a real reason to stay. Everyone got left to their own devices, maybe if he'd bloody paid more attention then Zachariah wouldn't have started this whole damn mess.
It was cool here and everything looked the same. An unending ripple of gray and paleness. Barachiel sighed, this wasn't home at all. He hurried then, not wanting to remember what this place was before Father left his children to fumble in the dark.
There were other angels about, though most of them didn't pay him any mind. Most of them were in their glittering forms of space and power but there were a scattered few that were in vessels, and Barachiel had taken pains to blend in. Meaning he was in a suit with his hair slicked back and looked like a right twat.
He had some idea of where Michael was holed up. There was a pillar, far away from where the Archangel used to live with the Morningstar, where Michael supposedly ruled. The place where Zachariah would disappear to, or on occasion, Raphael. Now Barachiel had thought that this might be tricky. He was armed and prepared to fight, but when he turned the corner and saw the door, there were only two nits in vessels talking about the weather and they'd taken a long look at him before he'd told them Zachariah sent him and they'd nodded.
Bob's your Uncle and he was in.
Maybe it was a trap, maybe he'd been on Earth too long and had seen too many spy movies or maybe...
Or maybe Michael really just didn't give two shits anymore.
There is the impression of vastness, of greatness and grandeur, but it really is just bland and pale like everything else had become.
And Michael is there.
For a moment it's like the old times, Michael wreathed in fire just fiddling around with his papers. Barachiel doesn't know what to do for a moment, he'd expected wards or traps, he expected Michael to have been tricked into one of those prisons that Anael has spoken of, that Anael had been put in. He'd expected Michael to call in guards the second he set foot anywhere.
He didn't expect...
"Report."
Ummm, shit. Of all the damn times for his mind to go blank.
"Well, um, Bora Bora's nice this time of year. An' they're making the good Coke again. TV's are huge and in color. So 'er movies. Also, Gabriel says you're an arse but you didn't hear it from me."
Slowly, Michael lowers the book he'd been studying and levels his gaze. "Barachiel?"
"Nah, it's Anael, I just thought this was a much more fetching vessel. Nice teeth."
For a moment Michael looks vacant before he shakes his head. "You don't change, Barachiel."
"Didn't know I was supposed to. Must have missed that bit," Barachiel fidgets as Michael lays the book aside and stands, coming to inspect his brother. Barachiel takes a step back without thinking about it.
"I haven't seen you in..."
"Decades, Michael," Barachiel stands straight and tries to not bite his lip. Michael is slow, listless, his grace is muted... Silence passes for far too long and Barachiel clears his throat without thinking about it. "Michael?"
"Hmm?" Michael seems to remember what he's doing. "Decades? Really? It hasn't seemed that long. What have you been doing?"
"Raphael's had me in London." Blank. "England." Blank. "Britain? Europe?" Finally, Michael nods.
Oh, for fuck's sake. "You know, those orders? To watch that angel and that demon? See what horrible thing's they are up to? Do you remember that?"
Michael turns and sits again, shuffling through papers. "I think so. Was this before the third war?"
"No, it wasn't before the bloody third war."
Michael 'hmm's' again and Barachiel tries not to scream. Everything he imagined, this is worse. This is worse than anything Zachariah could have done because Barachiel has the feeling, the sickening realization that maybe Michael did this to himself. There aren't any sigils here, no black magic, Michael hasn't been compromised or imprisoned, he's just been left alone. The only one up here telling him whatever he bloody well wanted was... Zachariah.
Shit.
"It was after the wars, Michael. We haven't had any wars in ages. The only war is the one that's coming."
Michael nods in a way that Barachiel can't tell if he's listening or not.
"The war, Michael!? Heaven and hell, the bloody fucking end to Earth!?" Barachiel's voice crackles and Michael still doesn't look up.
"Zachariah is in charge of Earth. He says everything is under control so..."
Gabriel sent him up here to explain, he sent him up to be level headed and learn the lay of the land and... "It bloody well is not! What's goin' on, Michael? Is this what you do? Father left you in charge to sit up here and piss about while everything goes to shit? You're telling me that you don't have a fucking clue what's been going on!?"
Michael looks confused and perhaps just the slightest bit hurt. "Zachariah assured me that..."
"Zachariah is lying!" The statement echoes, it bounces off of blank walls and very suddenly Barachiel knows exactly how Gabriel was feeling when he showed up at the front gate without a damned idea about anything. "Nothing is under control! Zachariah is fucking it all up! Zachariah is commanding angels! He's commanding bloody Archangels! He had Raphael fucking try an' kill Castiel!"
Barachiel is screaming like a barmy drunk now but at least Michael has looked up, he's listening. Even if he's shaking his head and furiously trying to return to his papers. "I never... Castiel?"
"Yes! Castiel! The fledgling! Who's mated and has a little'un of his own that the bloody prophet tried to kill the other day! Gabriel saved them! Gabriel's back! Did you even notice that he left?"
"Gabriel?"
It's like talking to a small child.
"Zachariah is speaking in your stead. He's been punishing angels that he says are disobeying. He bloody tortured Anael! Michael!?"
Michael is sitting there, with his papers in his lap, just as blank and lost as he'd been when...
"There are fucking horsemen down there, Michael. Lucifer is down there, Michael."
The book hits the ground with a 'thud', pages splaying open as the binding twists. Barachiel can't even feel anger anymore, he's not even sure he should pity whatever his brother's become.
"Lord Michael?" And the two twats are suddenly there in their borrowed skin, posturing around like bouncers on a Friday night.
"An' you just sat up here," Barachiel breathes. "An' did nothing about it."
"Lord..." Michael raises his hand before they have a chance to ask again.
Michael stands and Barachiel turns before he can say anything. He doesn't think that there's anything Michael can say to ease or erase this jagged feeling of helplessness, of loss. He doesn't know this person. He doesn't know anything anymore.
Barachiel is gone in a flash of wings.
***
"Shit!" Dean jumps about a foot and a half when Barachiel pops into the kitchen.
Gabriel and Cas are scrambling off the couch and Anna instinctively covers Elle who's in her lap. Sam and Bobby come pounding up the stairs from the panic room.
"What the hell, Barach? I thought I said to not just teleport in here," Gabriel growls. "It messes with the wards, you know that."
But Dean is watching Barachiel, who is a man... well, an angel on a mission. He's opening all the cupboards and raking his hand through his hair until it's sticking up again. He's wearing a suit that makes him look like a total tool and he's lucky he didn't get shot. They gather in the kitchen as Barachiel finally finds a new bottle of whiskey, he lets out a triumphant cry and twists the top off.
The entire house watches him drain the bottle in one go. Huh, guess Sam was right, angels really don't have to breathe.
"I take it that your mission did not go well?" Gabriel offers.
"Oh, it was fucking luvvly-jubbly. Wonderful. Loved every minute of it." Barachiel has his eyes closed and is pressing the empty whiskey bottle to his forehead.
"Did you find him?" Gabriel asks.
"Find who?" Anna hisses.
"Michael," Sam breathes.
"Yes."
The entire kitchen falls silent. Dean swallows. Elle is watching all of this with wide blue eyes, more curious than anything else and Castiel has just gone pale.
Wait. What? How the fuck is Sam in on this 'mission' and he's just...
"Well?" Gabriel is hesitant, but he's the only one that's taken a step towards Barachiel so far.
"Well," Barachiel growls. "He's not giving out any orders."
Gabriel cringes and now all the angels in the room have gone pale.
"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby frowns. "And you're replacing that."
"It means that Michael the fucking Archangel is so fucking out of it that I doubt he could find his own arse right now without a map and a Sherpa," Barachiel hisses and turns to the kitchen sink, dropping the empty bottle into it with a clatter.
Dean knows this isn't good, because if Michael is out of it then who the fuck wants him? If Michael isn't giving orders or pulling strings...
Elle whimpers, sharp and high, and the whole company turns. Anna is crying and Elle is patting her face in distress. Dean steps forward but Cas is closer and takes her arm and guides her back into the living room, taking Elle from her as they went. Gabriel has sagged against the kitchen table and Sam is right behind him, as if he's worried the Archangel would collapse.
"What did you tell him, Barach?" Gabriel's hands are white knuckled on the back of a kitchen chair.
Barachiel doesn't turn. He just sighs and hangs his head. "I'm sorry Gabriel. I got angry and I... my mouth got away from me. I don't even... I'm not even sure he's going to remember anything I said anyway."
"He's not going to help us, is he?" Sam reaches up and tentatively touches Gabriel's shoulder.
"Doubtful," Gabriel frowns.
"Help?" Dean has had about enough of this shit. Why the hell would Michael help them? Why the hell would Sam even think that? What the fuck was with his brother and the angel and this chick flick touching all of a sudden?
"It was a theory," Gabriel turns to Dean. "A theory that maybe Michael wasn't the one behind this. If Barachiel didn't know what was going on then I wasn't sure who did."
"You're telling me that, Michael, the Archangel who's supposed to use me as a condom doesn't know that!?"
It's official now. He's married an angel, he's got a magical love baby, and everything he thought he had to worry about just got fucked in eighteen random directions.
Barachiel turns, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve. He sniffs and takes a breath. "Michael didn't even know what decade it was, much less what the hell was going on down here. He kept saying that Zachariah had it under control. I don't think he's bothered to check anything in years, if ever. He just let Zachariah do whatever the hell he thought best."
Oh, that son of a bitch. That smooth talking piece of shit.
"Gabriel! Dean!"
Dean is moving before he even knows it because that was not Cas' calm voice. That was the "get your gun" voice and he has no problem with shooting something right now.
Cas is already backing towards the panic room with Elle in his arms as Anna looks out the window. Bobby has stiffened as everyone goes on fucking red alert. Dean goes to Cas and looks down at Elle, who is just silent, clutching her lion and Castiel's tie. She's hushed, matching her father's stare out the front window.
"What is it?" Sam asks as Gabriel pushes past Bobby into the living room with Barachiel on his heels.
There's a figure in gray in the yard, on the other side of the goddamn wards, looking over a junked car curiously. Anna turns as Gabriel cusses. Oh great.
"Remiel," Anna says with way too much purpose and worry for Dean's liking.
"Oh, fucking hell," Barachiel looks out the window once, quick, before turning back. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Another angel?" Dean snaps, if someone doesn't tell him what the hell is going on right now...
"An archangel," Anna murmurs.
"A fucking fallen archangel," Barachiel finishes. "Fell with the Morningstar."
Shit. Shit.
Sam makes a half strangled sound in his throat. And Gabriel is strangely quiet.
Dean's not sure he even wants to know, because there's one of Lucifer's lieutenants in Bobby's yard, and he's going to pretend that Sam's worried about what's going to be done to make him say yes and not for any other reason. He wraps his fingers around Cas' wrist as it's the only skin he can reach. Dean thinks about the Colt and wonders if it would take down a fallen angel like it wouldn't Lucifer.
Remiel looks at them, as if he can see straight through the house, looks at Elle. The fallen angel bows his head slightly, and all of the angels look pissed and scared at the same time. Then he turns away and walks towards the gate. It opens for him and Remiel walks through the wards like they're nothing.
Shit.
Part Six
Parts: Previous Parts
Authors: ameonna1 and kijikun
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Dean, Gabriel/Sam
Betas: sweetsyren
Word Count: 9,348
Warnings: AU, Minor language, sexual situations, implied angel!cest, Baby fic, no m-preg
Spoilers: Up to 5x10
A/N: So many words, and I personally apologize for the cliffhanger - Ame
Summary: Lucifer remembers. Michael forgets. And the Winchesters and Angels try to recharge and regroup.
“There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love.” -Susie Switzer
When the world was new and everything was as it should be, Lucifer was the Morningstar and he lived in a bower with his mate. He had a mate, a lover, a confidant, a brother... Now he has nothing.
Michael is writing, carefully working long flowing symbols into intricate patterns before he sets it into parchment permanently when Morningstar slips into their home, carefully holding a precious slumbering shape to his chest. The Morningstar settles next to him, smug and preening, basking in the warmth of his mates wings.
"Does Gabriel know that you've made off with his fledgling again?" Michael asks dryly. He doesn't sound exactly pleased. Everyone knows that Castiel is afraid of him. Only the Morningstar knows how much it actually bothers the Archangel.
"It isn't my fault that Anael is such a terrible watcher," the Morningstar huffs, nuzzling gently against soft shadows.
Castiel is a warm weight against him, deeply asleep. He couldn't help it, Gabriel was off doing something for Father, and Anael was arguing with Barachiel about some silly nonsense. Anything could have come along and harmed the fledgling. He's just being a good brother. If the others worry it's their own fault. Michael is pretending to ignore them, shuffling parchment about as the Morningstar sings silly nonsense words to the sleeping angel, but he sees it; the occasional glances, full of longing and love.
He doesn't know why Father had given the fledgling to Gabriel. Gabriel didn't even have a mate! Honestly, it was all probably some sort of silly test or gambit to get Gabriel to settle down and stop pouting every time Father called him.
It's quiet and peaceful, until the snuffling starts and then the inevitable whimper. Michael sighs, and the Morningstar frowns, in a moment Castiel is going to start howling and then everyone is going to know where he is. And Michael will be upset.
"Hush, you. Are you really going to be afraid of him forever?" the Morningstar rocks Castiel in his lap and smooths his tiny wings down as the little slip of sapphire and shadow clings to him. "Michael is supposed to look frightening. He's suppose to lead armies for goodness sakes. I know he's strong and big but he's our brother, and he would never, ever hurt us. Isn't that right, Michael?"
The Morningstar glares at his mate, and Michael smiles, trying to tuck his wings behind him as far back as he could. "Of course I wouldn't. It's my job to keep you safe."
Castiel peers dubiously at Michael from where he has had face hidden against the Morningstar's shoulder before hiding again.
"See? We're safe here," the Morningstar murmurs against the top of Castiel's head before kissing the mess of shadows.
Castiel huffs and grumbles but it's interrupted by a yawn and he settles, seeming content to just stare at Michael from where he was, one tiny fist rubbing at his eyes. The Morningstar rocks him until he wriggles and turns, wrapping little fingers around the Moringstar's, peering around but careful to look away from Michael when the bigger Archangel glances up.
"Now, where has Gabriel gotten off to, you think?" Michael asks conversationally from behind a sheet of parchment. Castiel perks up, and the Morningstar smiles. The child does adore his keeper, perhaps that was why Father left the little one to him. Stranger things have happened.
"I'm not sure," the Morningstar drawls. "I didn't see him with Anael, do you think he's working?"
"Messages!" Castiel chirps, bouncing in the Morningstar's lap.
"Messages?" Michael asks, his voice is pleased, indulgent and Castiel nods, fear forgotten in the moment.
"In Egypt," Castiel says very matter-of-factly.
"I see. Has Gabriel shown you Egypt?" Michael is smiling now, his hands folded in front of him, the parchment cast aside.
"Yes," Castiel says smartly, "We saw a crocodile and beetles and a baboon."
"A baboon? Really?" The Morningstar asks.
Castiel makes a face. "I didn't like it."
Michael chuckles and Castiel grins. The Morningstar is relieved, he didn't want it to be ages before the fledgling stopped being afraid of his own brother.
"Well, what did you like?" Michael smiles.
Castiel screws up his eyes, thinking for a moment before practically shrieking. "Birds! They have wings! Like me!"
Michael laughs and Castiel squirms until the Morningstar lets him go and the fledgling slides off his lap to sit between them. "Do you like birds?"
"Yes, I'm quite fond of birds," Michael answers, leaning back to get a better look at the fledgling.
"Are they your favorite?" Castiel asks brushing his shadows out of his face.
"My favorite animal?" Michael asks as Castiel nods. "I don't know. I suppose if I picked a favorite it would have to be lions."
"What's a lion?" Castiel breathes, interest coloring his voice.
"Well..." Michael begins. "It's rather like a big cat."
"How big?" Castiel asks, eyes going wide in anticipation.
Michael grins. "Bigger than you, lamb."
Castiel laughs and grabs at the air until Michael picks him up. The Morningstar grins as Castiel bumps his head against Michael's shoulder and smiles. "Take me to see lions."
"Take you? I think Gabriel might be very upset if I did that," Michael strokes his hand over Castiel's head as the fledgling pouts.
"I want to see them," Castiel argues.
"Well..." Michael sighs. "Here."
He sits Castiel down in front of him and very carefully brings his wing around, dragging his hand down the edge of it until a small ball of flame was cradled in his palm. The Morningstar blinks, he's never seen his mate do that before. Michael works the flame into a shape with his fingers as Castiel watches in awe. Finally, the red hot mass cools until it's dark and then as Michael runs his fingers over it, the shape begins to glimmer, until the Archangel has the perfect figure of a lion in his hands.
Castiel squeals as Michael holds it out for him to take. "There. That is what a lion looks like."
"Thank you, Michael! Thank you!" Castiel waves the lion about and the Morningstar sighs, contented as the fledgling launches himself at his mate, laughter filling the air.
Lucifer opens his eyes when he hears the rustling of wings. The sun is barely rising over the steeple of the church's whose roof he's perched on. The city below him is silent, everyone slumbers on ignorant of the danger in their midst, they are blind, they are naive, they are content, and for that he hates them. There's a man standing in front of the steeple before him, at least he appears to be a man. He's smartly dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, covered with an immaculate black wool coat. He's young and handsome, androgynous, with pale gray eyes and dark wavy hair. He looks the perfect picture of a young wealthy socialite.
"Remiel," Lucifer breathes.
"My Lord," the fallen Archangel dips his head in greeting. "You summoned me?"
Lucifer stands and smiles. "Yes, I have a job for you."
***
The house is quiet as Sam leaves his room rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He doesn't remember going to sleep or even going up to his room, but he remembers watching the stars, the cool metal of a junked car under his back, and Gabriel's voice steady and low as he told Sam ancient stories about the constellations. Dean's door is still shut, and Sam doesn't linger outside it. If Cas and Dean are asleep or not, well they deserve to have some early morning hours of peace.
Elle's crib is empty, when Sam gets downstairs, but he can hear Gabriel's voice in the kitchen and Elle's chiming laugh. He picks his way through the stacks of books and around the couch and chair towards the kitchen. Sam leans against the door way, watching Gabriel fiddle in a cupboard with Elle on his hip. Gabriel's talking in that lyrical language to Elle, who's waving her lion at him and pointing at the bowl of strawberries that had appeared at some point during the night. She squirms and and reaches, wriggling in Gabriel's grip, and Sam holds back laughter at how exasperated Gabriel looks.
Gabriel frowns and shifts Elle in his arms before he drops her, then snaps his fingers. A highchair appears, all polished wood and Sam; Sam starts laughing. Gabriel turns and glares at him, which only makes Sam laugh harder.
"Sam!" Elle chirps, squirming more before Gabriel puts her in the highchair.
The baby fusses twisting around in the chair before realizing she's not going anywhere. She scowls up at her Uncles, and waves her lion in the air. "Down," she commands.
"Problems, Gabriel?" Sam asks, moving into the kitchen.
Gabriel snorts. "She's still less grumpy in the morning than her father." He plucks a strawberry from the bowl and hands it to Elle. The offering seems to appease Princess Winchester, as she shows it first to her lion then starts to nibble at it with her baby teeth. "Sleep well, Samuel?"
"Yeah, I don't remember going upstairs though," Sam ruffles Elle's hair. "Ready for a bottle, Elle?"
"Bottle!" Elle confirms.
Gabriel gives Elle another strawberry, then pops one into his own mouth. Sam wonders if they're as sweet and juicy as they look, he hasn't had fresh strawberries in a long time. Gabriel had to have mojo'd them since he's pretty sure strawberries are out of season.
Sam pushes by him to Elle's bottle drying in the dish rack, and snags the can of powder to start mixing up the formula. "How are the strawberries?"
"Perfect, of course," Gabriel says as if it's offensive to assume otherwise. He picks one up and spins off the stem. "Want one?"
"When I'm done fixing Elle's bottle. I don't want her waking the whole house," Sam points out. "Or sending up big 'something angelic is here' signals."
Gabriel chuckles and presses the strawberry to Sam's lips. Sam's hands stop, his breath shudders out, suddenly shaky. He can smell the strawberry, taste it barely on his lips. Sams tongue darts out without conscious thought.
"Open." Gabriel says softly.
Sam inhales, hesitates, then obeys. Gabriel slides the fruit past Sam's lips. It's sweet and Sam bites down chews, then takes another bite, until all that's left his Gabriel's finger tips resting against his lips.
"Kiss!" Elle squeals.
Gabriel's hand jerks away as if he'd been burned. Sam flushes and turns his head away, hurrying to finish up Elle's bottle.
"Do you want a kiss then, cupcake?" Gabriel asks, leaning down to give the little girl a kiss on her cheek. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye as Elle pats Gabriel's cheek. His heart clenches and he wants... he wants...
Elle giggles and gives Gabriel a sticky kiss.
Sam wants this. What Dean has.
Sam runs his tongue over his bottom lip, then turns around with the bottle in hand. "Here, sweetheart," he tells the baby, giving her the bottle.
Elle takes it with the greed only a baby can have and Gabriel chuckles fondly. The Archangel runs a hand over her hair, and Sam swears he can almost see Gabriel weaving protection and love over her with just the sweep of his hand.
"Did Dean bring her down to her crib last night?" Sam asks, with a suddenly dry mouth, needing to say something, anything.
Gabriel doesn't look up, but he rolls his shoulders in a loose shrug. "Cas did, after you fell asleep."
"Oh." Sam takes a strawberry from the bowl, wondering if it'll be as sweet as from...he cuts off the line of thought. "I don't remember falling asleep."
Another loose shrug. "You were tired." Gabriel looks up just as Sam bites into the strawberry, and his eyes darken for a split second. It's over so fast that Sam thinks he's imagined it. "Don't worry I kept your dreams warded."
Sam swallows the fruit. "Thanks."
"I told Castiel about Lucifer. He'll tell Dean," Gabriel tells him, eyes watchful.
"Great," Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He was hoping for a little more time before everyone started hating him again. "I'll stay out of his and Dean's way for a while." The ever present fear spreads in his chest. Fear that he'll lose Dean. That this is the final straw and now that Dean has so much more to protect...
"Don't be over dramatic," Gabriel says dryly like he'd heard Sam's thoughts. And maybe he did. He's probably not as nice as Cas about that whole thing. "Castiel doesn't hate you. You didn't do it on purpose and Lucifer was going to figure it out sooner than later. If Barach put it together, the Morningstar would have."
Sam doesn't comment on the slip, barely notices it because he knows how Dean is going to take this. He knows what Dean's going to think about Sam keeping this from him. It'll be another lie, another reason Sam can't be trusted
"What would Lucifer do to her?" Sam asks voice strangled, as he watches Elle.
Gabriel lets out a sigh and tilts his head back and forth as if he's weighing options.
"I'm not afraid of him hurting her, Sam," Gabriel says voice low as if he thought someone besides Sam and Elle were listening. "Morningstar... Lucifer resented Father giving Castiel to me. He thought that he and Michael should have been given the fledgling. He was always spiriting Castiel off."
"You're afraid he'll..." Sam can't finish it because suddenly it's his fear as well. He remembers how Lucifer spoke, how he held the lion.
Gabriel turns his head and gazes at Elle, who's happily drinking her bottle in her new highchair. Innocent, and happy, with no concept of what her mere existence has done... Sam wonders if he ever looked like that or if he was tainted beyond innocence even then. "He'll take her and keep her as his own. He might even see it as his due. Something denied to him."
"I don't..." Sam breaks off and shakes his head sharply. As if the sudden movement will make Gabriel's words fit together in a way that makes sense. "How can you be sure?"
"He's my brother, and I know him," Gabriel says, his voice sharp edged. Glass rattles and Elle looks up, suddenly quiet and still. Gabriel soothes her with a hand over her hair. Sam strokes a finger over the back of her tiny hand and she curls her fingers around it.
Elle reaches her hands for him, bottle abandoned. "Up."
Sam opens the highchair and lifts Elle out, holding her to his chest. The gold lion sits in the chair momentarily forgotten. "Hell changed Dean," Sam points out.
Gabriel doesn't say anything for a moment, picking up the lion and tucking it in Elle's arms. "Yeah, it did." The Archangel's hazel eyes are dark, but they don't look away from Sam's. He reaches up and rests two fingers against Sam's lips to keep him from speaking. "But he's still your brother."
Then Gabriel is turning away back towards the counter and the bowl of strawberries. "What do you think Sammy, waffles covered in strawberries for breakfast?" Gabriel asks tone light and easy.
Sam swallows and kisses Elle's head. "Sound's good to me. What do you think Elle? Want to try some waffles this morning?"
"Waffles with strawberries," Elle declares.
***
It's early, early enough that the blankets still contain the best feelings of warmth, of cradling and comfort.
There are fingers trailing up Dean's hip, just barely dipping into the curve beneath his belly before skirting back up to his side in a loop and then coming down to smooth in an uneven line up his spine. He arches into them, half awake and unthinking, and gets a soft warm kiss on the back of his neck for it. His room smells like cotton and old wood and angel; exactly how he wants it. He mumbles something, some half formed thought of concern, something that he was supposed to remember.
"Elle is downstairs with Gabriel and Sam."
Cas' voice is low and Dean can feel the hum of his words against his back. Ah, that was it, last he remembered the kid was in bed with them. Two excited angels telling him about stars and comets and having races in the wide cold swathes between them. Elle had fallen asleep on the bed between him and Cas.
Dean opens his eyes just slightly, he can't tell the time of day from half darkness. There's light spilling in from behind the curtains and Dean thinks maybe he should start moving. "I'll get up," he murmurs, stretching his limbs.
Those clever fingers stroke back up his spine with only the barest hints of pressure. "We can stay in bed a little longer," Cas says softly, nuzzling Dean's ear. Dean tips his head back towards the sound and sensation. "She is fine with them."
"Yeah," Dean agrees as Cas' fingers slip just under the waist of his sleep pants. "Sammy'll take good care of her."
There's a pause behind him, but Dean's still more asleep then awake so the moments slide together and then Cas is kissing him. The angle is awkward, but it's almost more of a nuzzle then a kiss. Dean doesn't mind. He's warm and content. He doesn't have to think about anything but Cas. Dean tries to roll over but Cas cups a hand over Dean's hip holding him in place.
"Let me take care of you," Cas tells him, pressing kisses to Dean's shoulders.
Dean relaxes. He wants to give Cas the things he wants.
Cas' mouth drags across Dean's throat, slow, wet, and gentle. Dean's head falls back, and he lets himself make hushed little sounds of pleasure and contentment. Cas' fingers stroke along his sides, then across his stomach, then up over his chest. Slow and easy, not quite teasing, but nothing urgent.
Like they have all the time in the world.
Dean reaches a hand back to thread his fingers in Cas' hair. He doesn't have to tug because the minute he lifts his head and tilts it back, Cas' mouth is over his. Cas' lips are dry against Dean's, his mouth wet and too hot to be human. The kiss is messy and perfect, and Dean thinks he could do this for days.
Cas' fingers brush against Dean's cock through the soft cotton. Dean's hips press forward and he wonders just when he'd gotten so hard. "Cas."
The words, lyrical and chiming, that Cas speaks against his skin feels like a reward. So Dean breathes out Cas' name again. The hand slides away from his cock, only for fingers to hook around Dean's waist band and tug down the soft cotton.
Dean lifts his hips without being asked and kicks them the rest of the way off. Cas showers his shoulders and neck with kisses, strokes his fingers over the hand print on Dean's shoulder, over the finger marks on Dean's hips.
"Cas," Dean groans in hushed tones. He arches and rolls his hips backwards against Cas. Cas who's gloriously naked behind him, pressing those acres of warm smooth skin against Dean's scarred body.
Dean shifts his leg forward, giving Cas room, asking without words. Cas is the only person Dean would willing beg, but Cas rarely makes him. And then only when Dean needs every ounce of control stripped from him. But that isn't now.
Now is the warmth of blankets, the stillness broken only by gasping breaths and whispered words, the knowledge that this isn't a stolen moment... It's earned. Cas' burning hot skin presses against the length of Dean, his cock hard and leaking against the small of Dean's back.
Another kiss is pressed to the top of Dean's spine. "Dilectus meus candidus et rubicundus electus ex milibus," Cas whispers against his skin; each word a brush of lips against Dean's skin.
Slick fingers part Dean's cheeks, circle his entrance. Dean doesn't remember the lube coming out, but the passing of time feels like molasses in winter, drags each moment out like forever and all Dean can focus on is Cas. Dean shifts his leg further forward and tries to push his hips back at the same time.
"Caput eius aurum optimum comae eius sicut elatae palmarum nigrae quasi corvus," Cas murmurs, nuzzling Dean's hair as he pushes a single finger into Dean.
Dean groans softly, letting his head fall back. Cas' finger moves inside him, hot and slick, setting a easy pace that Dean's hips match. "What is that?" Dean slurs, heat pooling in his stomach.
Cas hums against Dean's skin, then slides in a second finger. The fingers don't move, just rest inside Dean's body. When Dean tries to push back against them, Cas holds his hips still with a hand on his hip. Dean doesn't whimper, he doesn't because Dean Winchester doesn't whimper.
"Oculi eius sicut columbae super rivulos aquarum quae lacte sunt lotae et resident iuxta fluenta plenissima." Cas shifts against him and brushes his lips against Dean's closed eyelids. Dean opens his eyes to see Cas, eyes blown wide, a thin band of blue around pure black, pin pointed with pure light. A little bit of Cas, of the light Dean watched in the sky, bleeding through.
"Cas, c'mon," Dean tells him. There's something too hushed, too reverent about the way Cas is speaking. It feels like praise Dean isn't sure he deserves.
Cas smiles. "Be easy, Dean." Finally, finally, Cas moves his fingers. Drags them slowly out, then pushes them even more slowly back in. He spreads them apart inside Dean's body, stretching Dean far more than he needs.
"I am easy," Dean jokes on a low groan. He still can't move his hips as Cas holds him still, making him just lie there and take.
Dean's rewarded with another slow smile this time pressed against his shoulder. He moves his arm back, the angle awkward, but he finds Cas' skin, the side of his face. Cas kisses his finger tips, kisses the palm of his hand. "Manus illius tornatiles aureae plenae hyacinthis venter eius eburneus distinctus sapphyris."
Cas' hand finally leaves his hip, gliding across Dean's stomach and chest, before palming Dean's cock. Dean arches into the touch, any breath he had to tell Cas to knock off the damn latin lost in a low, long sound of pleasure. Between his hand around Dean's cock and his fingers inside Dean, Cas sets a rhythm that sends pleasure shivering through Dean's veins in a way that Dean could bask in for hours.
Dean can't even bring himself to want urgency, it's too good and he knows Cas will take care of him.
A third finger joins the first two, and Dean can do nothing more than try to give Cas more room. The position doesn't allow him much movement, but Cas seems content and Dean's limbs feel heavy from just waking up. "Ah," Dean whispers, eyes closing again, shutting out the world even more.
"Are you ready for me?" Cas asks in his ear. He always asks. Even when it's rough, even when Dean doesn't want him to ask.
Dean nods and makes a sound that's supposed to be yes but gets tangled in this throat and on his tongue. Cas seems to understand, and his fingers ease out of Dean's body.
Cas presses in. He lifts Dean's leg, arranges him, and slides in all the way in one long movement that leaves Dean shaking, gasping. He can't really thrust like this, but he rocks against Dean. Each little movement sends little sparks of pleasure jumping across Dean's nerves. Cas' hand stripes Dean's cock, his thumb stroking over the tip spreading wetness. Dean gasps and keens, his mouth hanging open.
And just like that Dean finds himself on the edge. His stomach tightens, and he can almost taste it. He just needs... he needs something but Cas keeps it easy, keeps it slow.
"Crura illius columnae marmoreae quae fundatae sunt super bases aureas species eius ut Libani electus ut cedri," Cas whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. He kisses Dean's shoulders, neck, cheek, any part of Dean he can reach. Finally, Cas' tongue runs over his mark on Dean's shoulder, and Dean falls.
"Cas, Cas, Cas." Dean tumbles into his orgasm, gasping and shuddering. He spills over Cas' hand, and everything goes white behind his eyelids.
Cas is still rocking against him, hard and hot inside, when Dean resurfaces. His mouth drags against Dean's neck, and his wet, sticky hand is splayed across Dean's stomach.
"Love you," Dean manages to say, his tongue still heavy.
Behind him, Cas keens, his hips jerking forward. "Guttur...guttur illius suavissimum et totus desiderabilis talis," Cas half wails. The windows shiver as if pressed by wind.
Cas gathers Dean close; buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck and pushes in as deep as he can go. Dean feels the full body shudder as Cas comes, feels him spilling deep inside him. Then Cas sags against him, trembling.
"Est dilectus meus et iste est amicus meus," Cas whispers. "Est dilectus meus."
Dean shifts, letting Cas ease out of him, before turning. He takes in the sight of Cas, lips bitten red, mouth slick, and he has to kiss him. Dean pushes his fingers through Cas' hair, runs his fingertips down Cas' spine. "What was that last part?" Dean asks, not expecting an answer.
"This is my beloved," Cas tells him after a moments hesitation. "Latin... It is not my tongue but it is beautiful."
"Est dilectus meus," Dean whispers back, fumbling the pronunciation but meaning every word. It's a chick flick moment but Dean doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care.
Cas' smile is brighter than the dawn.
***
Castiel stops at the top of the stairs, watching. He'd left Dean cleaned up and sated in bed with a promise to return after checking on Elle. It felt strange to have the time now; to have family again to help take care of things. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until that morning, until he'd been aware that, for now, he had nothing he absolutely had to do. He'd spoken to Gabriel last night of his search for Father and Gabriel told him that he'd sent Barachiel to look into the places that Castiel couldn't. Gabriel had plans, Gabriel had people. Gabriel grinned, familiar and easy, and told him to not worry. Castiel couldn't help but feel that the Archangel was making up for lost time. Or perhaps Gabriel had other reasons.
The noises from downstairs were quiet, hushed and it was the quiet that had made Castiel pause. Sam was on the couch, dozing, a book lying open on his chest and Gabriel stood over him with Elle in the crook of his arm. Gabriel's fingers were clever and quick over Sam's brow, weaving protection and safety as Elle peers down, curious. Gabriel smoothes Sam's hair out of his eyes before walking around the couch and settling on the floor at the younger Winchesters side, talking softly to Elle and rocking her. Castiel blinks, there are chairs free in the living room but...
Slowly, he wonders if he's missed something, because he remembers Michael and the Morningstar. He remembers how mated angels used to sit. In perfect pairs, one below the other.
Sam shifts in his sleep and Castiel sees Gabriel stiffen the exact moment that the human's fingers brush across the back of the Archangel's neck. Sam rests them there and Gabriel sighs, a soft contented noise, and leans his head back to bask in the barest of touches.
Silently, Castiel turns and makes his way back to the bedroom. Elle is fine, safe and he is in no way what Dean would call a "cock block". He can't blame his brother though. Some humans are simply compelling, he's found that out. Though it is odd to think of Gabriel in this way and Sam is not what he would have expected his brother to covet. But then he never expected to find want unfurling in his chest as he pulled Dean's soul from hell.
He stops in the doorway to the bedroom, taking in the sight of Dean tangled in the sheets. At rest, at peace, something so rare for his mate. He knows that they can't hold the storm off forever. Lucifer will try something, or Zachariah or... He cannot allow this to end badly. He can't even entertain the idea anymore. Not with Elle here. He didn't think that there could be any more at stake but now...
"You just gonna stare or you gonna get over here?" Dean's drawl is sleepy but sure.
A smile quirks at the corner of his lips and he wonders how they started coming to him so easily now. Dean's eyes are half open and he's glaring as Castiel shuts the door and slides back into bed. Dean grumbles and tugs at Castiel's shirt until he acquiesces and removes it, letting his mate, his human mate splay across him. Angels hadn't been encouraged to mate since Lucifer fell. It made them soft...
Prone to mistakes...
Human.
Father hadn't made him and his siblings to feel, he'd made them to obey and to obey was all they should have needed. But too much has started to seep in around the edges and Father hadn't been around for a very long time. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him as close as possible. His orders were to protect Dean, and he obeyed. He still obeys, just in his own way. Perhaps they are all still obeying, but there's no one around any longer to tell them how. Zachariah called it chaos, orderless... But Castiel thinks that it might be closer to a sort of freedom.
To free will.
Dean shifts, nosing his way against Castiel's neck before he settles.
Castiel sighs, a soft contented noise. He allows himself to simply be.
***
Something angelic pricks at the back of Gabriel mind. He'd been sitting on the floor pretending to read, listening to Sam turn the pages of his book behind him. Sam's still so tired and Gabriel wonders how much sleep the boy has lost in fear of Lucifer paying a visit.
Gabriel unfolds himself from the floor, rising to his feet. Sam's eyes shift from the large tome in his lap up to Gabriel, and Gabriel would like to flatter himself that it's because Sam doesn't want him moving then curiosity.
He tilts his head to the side slightly... Castiel is with Bobby down in the cellar making sure the panic room sigils and and wards are holding up. Dean is in the kitchen, gun parts strewn across the table as he methodically cleans them. Elle is fast asleep in her crib after spending the first part of the day climbing over every person that would let her and trying her best to get to point B from point A under the power of her own little legs.
So it isn't Cas and it isn't Elle.
Gabriel listens again. It's like the sound of a far off conversation, or a car on the street. Muffled. Two of his sibling approaching the well warded "base" the Winchesters had set up at Bobby's home. It isn't a fast approach, and once... once Gabriel would have known them even at this distance. Something twists inside his chest, and maybe he's been in this body too long.
"Gabriel?" Sam's voice is low, eyes watchful.
Just one damn day, Gabriel thinks. Couldn't they all just have one damn day. "It's..." Then Gabriel hears it. Bickering. And he knows who it is.
He has to laugh because of course they'd be bickering. The twins had found a reason to bicker less than two days after they were made. Michael had once threatened to hang them both from the stars by their ankles if they didn't give everyone a moments peace. "Two more for dinner I think."
Sam sits up. "Two more... Gabriel? Who the hell is coming?" There's fear and accusation there, that makes Gabriel bristle, kills the warmth that spread through him like a traitorous creeping vine while he'd sat there.
"No one any of you need to fear," Gabriel tells him sharply.
Something in his face must have betrayed him, because Sam's fingers encircled his wrist. "Want me to come help you be the welcoming committee?" Sam asks.
Gabriel takes a breath, then shakes his head, then sighs. "You're going to pout if I say no aren't you?"
"I don't pout," Sam grumbles, sitting the book aside. He climbs off the couch, stretching as he does... and Gabriel always forgets how tall Sam is.
"And you don't cry your way through sex either," Gabriel smirks, heading out onto the porch. He can hear the bickering getting closer. Something about a boyfriend... oh this is going to be good.
Gabriel can just picture the face Sam makes as he mutters. "I do not cry through sex."
"Of course you don't," Gabriel chuckles. Because saying "You going to let me find out?" will lead to nothing but trouble. Good and bad trouble. Sam is all sorts of trouble, demon tainted, and in some ways so damn young. He leans against on of the pillars holding up the roof of the porch and waits for his younger siblings to land.
Sam takes up position just behind him, and Gabriel tries not to think about what that would mean if Sam were an angel, just as the sound of wings ripple through the air.
"You didn't even knock!" a female voice snaps.
"Oi, I shouldn't have to knock. There should've been nothing for me to interrupt," Barachiel snaps back.
There's the sound of wings bristling and then the female voice. "Gabriel..."
"Anna?!" Sam yelps.
Gabriel doubles over laughing.
Anna turns slightly and smiles at Sam. "Hi Sam," she says cheerfully, then glares at Gabriel. "Gabriel, did you send this reprobate to find me? Do none of you know how to call or use doors?"
Barachiel snorts, but he's looking at Gabriel and Sam with the sort of speculation that means Gabriel is going to be teased later.
She whips her head around towards Barachiel. "Or knock. Your hands don't look broken, Barach."
Gabriel snaps his fingers and offers his new acquired bowl of popcorn to Sam. It gets him a raised eyebrow, but Sam takes some. And yeah this is going to be good. Gabriel had forgotten how much fun Barachiel and Anael arguing could be.
"Angels don't knock, Anael," Barach points out, yanking his hat off and running his fingers through his hair.
She glares at him. "Anna. I go by Anna now. I only told you that at least a dozen times."
"It's a human name," Barach grumbles. "Father gave you a perfectly good name."
"Well I was a human, and my parents gave me a perfectly good name. I'm now Anna," she tells him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think Father would understand."
Gabriel turns his head slightly towards Sam, ignoring his bickering siblings for a moment. "You knew Anna as human right?"
Sam nods. "Yeah. Well Dean knew her best. So to speak." Color creeps across Sam's face. "Uhm, did Cas know she was coming?"
"She had sex with Dean?" Gabriel asks, because okay that was new information. "She had sex with her brother's... and Dean, what decided to see how many angels he could bang?"
He gets bitchface and a sharp glare for that. "No. Dean wouldn't do that. Not to Cas. They weren't... I don't even think Cas knew what he wanted from Dean yet. He was still reading from Zachariah's playbook then. And Anna was human."
Before Gabriel can respond there's a sudden raise in volume from the arguing pair.
"'Cause I wanted to see my twin sister's human vessel in the all together lettin' some demon paw at her!" Barach's half shouts.
A demon was... "A demon?" Gabriel repeats incredulously. He's had his share of pagan demi-gods and goddesses in his bed over the centuries but he drew the line at demons. He can't imagine any angel, fallen or not, allowing a demon to touch them willingly. And that meant... "What did he do to you?"
Because if some demon dared touch his sister he'll show him just why he was the Angel of Judgment.
"Crowley doesn't do anything I don't want him to," Anna says in a slightly exasperated tone.
"Crowley? As in the demon Crowley who had the Colt?" Sam breaks in.
Anna smiles and nods. "I told him he needed to trust you and Dean and give it to you." Her face falls. "I... I'm sorry it didn't work. I heard about Ellen and Jo, Sam, I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," Sam says, his voice rough.
Gabriel doesn't allow himself to turn and look at Sam. If he looks he'll have to see that open devastation. He'd have to remember that he could have prevented it. So he focuses on Anna, and tries to remember how her grace once looked.
Barachiel has fallen silent and it occurs to Gabriel that he doesn't know who Castiel named Elle for. He never met the woman himself but Cas thought highly of her, and that was good enough for him in this case.
"I'll go give Dean the heads up you're here," Sam says and Gabriel hears him retreat into the house.
"Barachiel, did you fill Anna in on the situation?" Gabriel asks when Sam is gone.
Anna shakes her head. "No, he just said that you and the Winchesters needed assistance. Though I was hesitant after my last encounter with Castiel." She scowls. "Your fledgling sold me out to Zachariah. I'm still not happy about that. And that re-education program Zachariah is running... who thought letting him have any power was a good idea? And don't say Father because the position Father left him in didn't have any power like this."
Gabriel scowls. "Castiel did what?" he demands sharply. Another thing Castiel as been keeping from him?
Anna's face softens. "He did it for Dean though, so I'll forgive him. I think the poor thing was in love with Dean since the moment he pulled him from hell. He just didn't know what to do with it."
Barachiel shrugs. "Mated now though. Reckon Cas figured it out."
"Good," Anna says, bouncing up on the tip of her toes with a bit of the energy Gabriel remembers her having. "Now why am I here? I doubt it was so you could eat popcorn and watch me yell at Barachiel for being an idiot. Which you are, Barach, by the way."
Barachiel glares at her. "Don't see how it's my fault you've gotten all tangled up with a demon that couldn't even come up with an original name."
Anna sniffs. "Crowley is a perfectly fine name."
"And already being used by a demon much older than yours and much higher up on the food chain," Barach snorts.
Gabriel glares at them both and there's the sound of rolling thunder in the distance because he's at the end of his tolerance now. "Are you both quite finished?"
Both angels quiet and look downwards. "Yes, Gabriel," they both say in their own tongue.
"Good," Gabriel raises his chin slightly. "Barachiel, how go the preparations for that mission we discussed?"
"Complete, I can head out at any time. With Zachariah still out of commission things are in a bit of disarray. It should be no problem," Barachiel assures him in their own tongue.
Gabriel nods. "I want you to leave immediately then. The sooner we know how he sides on this, the better." Barachiel will be fine, it's an easy mission and Barachiel is the only one that can pull it off.
Barachiel brings his fists up over his heart and bows his head. "At once, Gabriel."
"Be safe, brother," Gabriel tells him.
He gets a nod before Barachiel launches himself skyward.
"Anna," Gabriel says turning to look at her.
She raises her head. "What do you wish of me, brother?" And it's almost all Anael, the soldier, the garrison leader.
Gabriel feels an anxious clawing at his throat. This is too much like... he shakes it off and forces a smile. That's easy enough, he's had practice at that. He vanishes the bowl of popcorn and produces two candy bars out of thin air and tosses one to her. He switches back to English as he tells her, "Come say hello to the new fledgling."
Anna stands open mouthed for a few moment. "The new fledgling?" she echos back. There's a flash of horror in her eyes. "Gabriel, please tell me that..."
"No, no, as far as I know those rituals are thankfully lost," Gabriel assures her quickly. He can't be upset at her for having the same instinctive fear, she was the one after all that had to put their sister out of her misery. He'd been thankful that Barachiel's optimism and excitement (and knowing several pagan goddess) had kept him from jumping to such a conclusion. "Fertility goddess decided Castiel and Dean needed a little one."
Anna face goes through quite a comical set of expressions, before she just sighs. "That would explain why I heard rumors of Zachariah having a figurative coronary. Crowley thought he'd just popped in on Dean and Cas having sex."
"Yes, about Crowley, we're going to have a long talk about that later," Gabriel tells her. She pales and bites her lip. If this wasn't Anael, who loved humans so, who loved the world so, he would worry that she was on Lucifer's side. "First you're going to come meet our niece."
Gabriel turns and leads her into the house.
***
Some part of Barachiel, some tiny part thought that heaven should probably have better security. Maybe some guards or wards or something. Honestly, he'd been thrown out of pubs for doing less than this. He made his way carefully through the shining city. That was pretty much the best representation of heaven as anything but light and sound. It was... It wasn't what Barachiel remembered. He remembered the light and laughter of heaven. The glorious warmth. This place was... different. He hadn't been back in years, after Gabriel had kipped off and Anael disappearing to Earth more often than not, there hadn't been a real reason to stay. Everyone got left to their own devices, maybe if he'd bloody paid more attention then Zachariah wouldn't have started this whole damn mess.
It was cool here and everything looked the same. An unending ripple of gray and paleness. Barachiel sighed, this wasn't home at all. He hurried then, not wanting to remember what this place was before Father left his children to fumble in the dark.
There were other angels about, though most of them didn't pay him any mind. Most of them were in their glittering forms of space and power but there were a scattered few that were in vessels, and Barachiel had taken pains to blend in. Meaning he was in a suit with his hair slicked back and looked like a right twat.
He had some idea of where Michael was holed up. There was a pillar, far away from where the Archangel used to live with the Morningstar, where Michael supposedly ruled. The place where Zachariah would disappear to, or on occasion, Raphael. Now Barachiel had thought that this might be tricky. He was armed and prepared to fight, but when he turned the corner and saw the door, there were only two nits in vessels talking about the weather and they'd taken a long look at him before he'd told them Zachariah sent him and they'd nodded.
Bob's your Uncle and he was in.
Maybe it was a trap, maybe he'd been on Earth too long and had seen too many spy movies or maybe...
Or maybe Michael really just didn't give two shits anymore.
There is the impression of vastness, of greatness and grandeur, but it really is just bland and pale like everything else had become.
And Michael is there.
For a moment it's like the old times, Michael wreathed in fire just fiddling around with his papers. Barachiel doesn't know what to do for a moment, he'd expected wards or traps, he expected Michael to have been tricked into one of those prisons that Anael has spoken of, that Anael had been put in. He'd expected Michael to call in guards the second he set foot anywhere.
He didn't expect...
"Report."
Ummm, shit. Of all the damn times for his mind to go blank.
"Well, um, Bora Bora's nice this time of year. An' they're making the good Coke again. TV's are huge and in color. So 'er movies. Also, Gabriel says you're an arse but you didn't hear it from me."
Slowly, Michael lowers the book he'd been studying and levels his gaze. "Barachiel?"
"Nah, it's Anael, I just thought this was a much more fetching vessel. Nice teeth."
For a moment Michael looks vacant before he shakes his head. "You don't change, Barachiel."
"Didn't know I was supposed to. Must have missed that bit," Barachiel fidgets as Michael lays the book aside and stands, coming to inspect his brother. Barachiel takes a step back without thinking about it.
"I haven't seen you in..."
"Decades, Michael," Barachiel stands straight and tries to not bite his lip. Michael is slow, listless, his grace is muted... Silence passes for far too long and Barachiel clears his throat without thinking about it. "Michael?"
"Hmm?" Michael seems to remember what he's doing. "Decades? Really? It hasn't seemed that long. What have you been doing?"
"Raphael's had me in London." Blank. "England." Blank. "Britain? Europe?" Finally, Michael nods.
Oh, for fuck's sake. "You know, those orders? To watch that angel and that demon? See what horrible thing's they are up to? Do you remember that?"
Michael turns and sits again, shuffling through papers. "I think so. Was this before the third war?"
"No, it wasn't before the bloody third war."
Michael 'hmm's' again and Barachiel tries not to scream. Everything he imagined, this is worse. This is worse than anything Zachariah could have done because Barachiel has the feeling, the sickening realization that maybe Michael did this to himself. There aren't any sigils here, no black magic, Michael hasn't been compromised or imprisoned, he's just been left alone. The only one up here telling him whatever he bloody well wanted was... Zachariah.
Shit.
"It was after the wars, Michael. We haven't had any wars in ages. The only war is the one that's coming."
Michael nods in a way that Barachiel can't tell if he's listening or not.
"The war, Michael!? Heaven and hell, the bloody fucking end to Earth!?" Barachiel's voice crackles and Michael still doesn't look up.
"Zachariah is in charge of Earth. He says everything is under control so..."
Gabriel sent him up here to explain, he sent him up to be level headed and learn the lay of the land and... "It bloody well is not! What's goin' on, Michael? Is this what you do? Father left you in charge to sit up here and piss about while everything goes to shit? You're telling me that you don't have a fucking clue what's been going on!?"
Michael looks confused and perhaps just the slightest bit hurt. "Zachariah assured me that..."
"Zachariah is lying!" The statement echoes, it bounces off of blank walls and very suddenly Barachiel knows exactly how Gabriel was feeling when he showed up at the front gate without a damned idea about anything. "Nothing is under control! Zachariah is fucking it all up! Zachariah is commanding angels! He's commanding bloody Archangels! He had Raphael fucking try an' kill Castiel!"
Barachiel is screaming like a barmy drunk now but at least Michael has looked up, he's listening. Even if he's shaking his head and furiously trying to return to his papers. "I never... Castiel?"
"Yes! Castiel! The fledgling! Who's mated and has a little'un of his own that the bloody prophet tried to kill the other day! Gabriel saved them! Gabriel's back! Did you even notice that he left?"
"Gabriel?"
It's like talking to a small child.
"Zachariah is speaking in your stead. He's been punishing angels that he says are disobeying. He bloody tortured Anael! Michael!?"
Michael is sitting there, with his papers in his lap, just as blank and lost as he'd been when...
"There are fucking horsemen down there, Michael. Lucifer is down there, Michael."
The book hits the ground with a 'thud', pages splaying open as the binding twists. Barachiel can't even feel anger anymore, he's not even sure he should pity whatever his brother's become.
"Lord Michael?" And the two twats are suddenly there in their borrowed skin, posturing around like bouncers on a Friday night.
"An' you just sat up here," Barachiel breathes. "An' did nothing about it."
"Lord..." Michael raises his hand before they have a chance to ask again.
Michael stands and Barachiel turns before he can say anything. He doesn't think that there's anything Michael can say to ease or erase this jagged feeling of helplessness, of loss. He doesn't know this person. He doesn't know anything anymore.
Barachiel is gone in a flash of wings.
***
"Shit!" Dean jumps about a foot and a half when Barachiel pops into the kitchen.
Gabriel and Cas are scrambling off the couch and Anna instinctively covers Elle who's in her lap. Sam and Bobby come pounding up the stairs from the panic room.
"What the hell, Barach? I thought I said to not just teleport in here," Gabriel growls. "It messes with the wards, you know that."
But Dean is watching Barachiel, who is a man... well, an angel on a mission. He's opening all the cupboards and raking his hand through his hair until it's sticking up again. He's wearing a suit that makes him look like a total tool and he's lucky he didn't get shot. They gather in the kitchen as Barachiel finally finds a new bottle of whiskey, he lets out a triumphant cry and twists the top off.
The entire house watches him drain the bottle in one go. Huh, guess Sam was right, angels really don't have to breathe.
"I take it that your mission did not go well?" Gabriel offers.
"Oh, it was fucking luvvly-jubbly. Wonderful. Loved every minute of it." Barachiel has his eyes closed and is pressing the empty whiskey bottle to his forehead.
"Did you find him?" Gabriel asks.
"Find who?" Anna hisses.
"Michael," Sam breathes.
"Yes."
The entire kitchen falls silent. Dean swallows. Elle is watching all of this with wide blue eyes, more curious than anything else and Castiel has just gone pale.
Wait. What? How the fuck is Sam in on this 'mission' and he's just...
"Well?" Gabriel is hesitant, but he's the only one that's taken a step towards Barachiel so far.
"Well," Barachiel growls. "He's not giving out any orders."
Gabriel cringes and now all the angels in the room have gone pale.
"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby frowns. "And you're replacing that."
"It means that Michael the fucking Archangel is so fucking out of it that I doubt he could find his own arse right now without a map and a Sherpa," Barachiel hisses and turns to the kitchen sink, dropping the empty bottle into it with a clatter.
Dean knows this isn't good, because if Michael is out of it then who the fuck wants him? If Michael isn't giving orders or pulling strings...
Elle whimpers, sharp and high, and the whole company turns. Anna is crying and Elle is patting her face in distress. Dean steps forward but Cas is closer and takes her arm and guides her back into the living room, taking Elle from her as they went. Gabriel has sagged against the kitchen table and Sam is right behind him, as if he's worried the Archangel would collapse.
"What did you tell him, Barach?" Gabriel's hands are white knuckled on the back of a kitchen chair.
Barachiel doesn't turn. He just sighs and hangs his head. "I'm sorry Gabriel. I got angry and I... my mouth got away from me. I don't even... I'm not even sure he's going to remember anything I said anyway."
"He's not going to help us, is he?" Sam reaches up and tentatively touches Gabriel's shoulder.
"Doubtful," Gabriel frowns.
"Help?" Dean has had about enough of this shit. Why the hell would Michael help them? Why the hell would Sam even think that? What the fuck was with his brother and the angel and this chick flick touching all of a sudden?
"It was a theory," Gabriel turns to Dean. "A theory that maybe Michael wasn't the one behind this. If Barachiel didn't know what was going on then I wasn't sure who did."
"You're telling me that, Michael, the Archangel who's supposed to use me as a condom doesn't know that!?"
It's official now. He's married an angel, he's got a magical love baby, and everything he thought he had to worry about just got fucked in eighteen random directions.
Barachiel turns, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve. He sniffs and takes a breath. "Michael didn't even know what decade it was, much less what the hell was going on down here. He kept saying that Zachariah had it under control. I don't think he's bothered to check anything in years, if ever. He just let Zachariah do whatever the hell he thought best."
Oh, that son of a bitch. That smooth talking piece of shit.
"Gabriel! Dean!"
Dean is moving before he even knows it because that was not Cas' calm voice. That was the "get your gun" voice and he has no problem with shooting something right now.
Cas is already backing towards the panic room with Elle in his arms as Anna looks out the window. Bobby has stiffened as everyone goes on fucking red alert. Dean goes to Cas and looks down at Elle, who is just silent, clutching her lion and Castiel's tie. She's hushed, matching her father's stare out the front window.
"What is it?" Sam asks as Gabriel pushes past Bobby into the living room with Barachiel on his heels.
There's a figure in gray in the yard, on the other side of the goddamn wards, looking over a junked car curiously. Anna turns as Gabriel cusses. Oh great.
"Remiel," Anna says with way too much purpose and worry for Dean's liking.
"Oh, fucking hell," Barachiel looks out the window once, quick, before turning back. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Another angel?" Dean snaps, if someone doesn't tell him what the hell is going on right now...
"An archangel," Anna murmurs.
"A fucking fallen archangel," Barachiel finishes. "Fell with the Morningstar."
Shit. Shit.
Sam makes a half strangled sound in his throat. And Gabriel is strangely quiet.
Dean's not sure he even wants to know, because there's one of Lucifer's lieutenants in Bobby's yard, and he's going to pretend that Sam's worried about what's going to be done to make him say yes and not for any other reason. He wraps his fingers around Cas' wrist as it's the only skin he can reach. Dean thinks about the Colt and wonders if it would take down a fallen angel like it wouldn't Lucifer.
Remiel looks at them, as if he can see straight through the house, looks at Elle. The fallen angel bows his head slightly, and all of the angels look pissed and scared at the same time. Then he turns away and walks towards the gate. It opens for him and Remiel walks through the wards like they're nothing.
Shit.
Part Six