Delirium - Supernatural - Castiel/Gabriel
Title: Delirium
Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Sam (pre-Castiel/Gabriel)
Word Count: 1428
Rating: PG
Spoilers: For 5x19 - Hammer of the Gods.
A/N: Written for the Angelcest Kink Meme.
Summary: Gabriel has been gone for one year before he appears once more in a blast of light and heat. Returned, he can only think about protecting Castiel from the same fate that befell him.
Gabriel has been gone for one year before he appears once more in a blast of light and heat.
They're in a hotel room: Castiel, Bobby and the Winchesters. They had been discussing the future of the world now that the threat of the end had passed.
(Sometimes, Castiel thinks that this is their only topic of conversation. Hunters are monotonous, he has found in his time on Earth).
Their contemplation is shattered when Castiel finds himself pinned to the nearest bed, his view of the world blocked out by black feathers and pallid skin. On instinct, he struggles: he shoves, pushes, kicks and wriggles. He can't move. Nothing budges.
Blinking, he brings his attacker into focus. The hunters are trying to pull him away, but as Castiel recognises him he knows it won't work.
"It's Gabriel," he says, before he raises his voice and repeats the sentence. The second time, the boys listen. They back off.
Gabriel still doesn't move.
Castiel tries to move, even an inch, but Gabriel's grip tightens. His Grace is smothering.
"Gabriel?" Sam says. From his vantage point trapped underneath Gabriel, Castiel can't see any of the other occupants of the room. "Are you okay?"
Gabriel's eyes are glazed as if he isn't fully in the room at all; his mind is elsewhere, and it's trapped there. "Gabriel," Castiel murmurs. "You are safe here."
The grip around him tightens. It feels as if the world flickers and disappears, swamped in this power. "It's not," Gabriel whispers.
He can speak. That, at least, is something.
"I assure you: no harm will come to you here."
Lucifer is gone. Michael has retreated. God has returned to heaven. The universe is as it should be.
Gabriel shakes his head, two tiny movements. Castiel can see the pasty nature of his skin and the beads of sweat that adorn it. He looks like a human: sick and fevered. Heat floods from where his body is pinning Castiel down, making movement impossible.
"I believe he is sick," he says, raising his voice enough that he can be heard. He still cannot see the Winchesters or Bobby, drowned out as they are by Gabriel's wings.
"They'll come for you," Gabriel whispers. His lips are trembling, voice shaking. Castiel has never seen him like this before: he has always been confident to the point of arrogance. There has always been a smug smile on his face. "He'll come for you."
"Who are you talking about?" Sam asks before Castiel has the chance to respond - because Castiel already knows. He recognises that fear in his brother's eyes.
A shiver runs through Gabriel's body, pressed against Castiel. Every vibration passes through to him too - and Gabriel's grip tightens as if he wants to crush bone. Castiel steels his Grace, restored to him by their Father, and tries to remain unharmed.
"Lucifer," Gabriel snaps, like Castiel knew he would. "Who else?"
"Lucifer's gone," Sam assures him. Castiel feels the dip of the bed as Sam tries to sit down beside them, but it vanishes quickly: it isn't a good idea to approach an angel when he's this tense. Hopefully, Sam has simply been pushed back and hasn't been sent to the other side of the world. "He's back in Hell now."
"Hell," Gabriel repeats.
When Castiel hears that word, the way that Gabriel says it, he knows exactly where Gabriel has been. Killed by Lucifer, he had not been sent back to heaven or even erased completely from existence - he had been sent downstairs. A prisoner this time, not a crusader.
It makes his heart ache.
"You are out now," Castiel promises. He tries to hold Gabriel's gaze and impart that sense of knowledge, that sense of security. It won't work. He doesn't know if anything more than time (eternity) will soothe those memories away.
"It's just us two," Gabriel says. "We're all that's left."
"The others have returned home," Castiel assures him, but Gabriel shakes his head: won't believe him. The world is filled with an aching absence of their kind. There is no one to sense. No Grace but their own. It is a lonely existence.
"They are dead, kid," Gabriel snaps at him. The light-bulb above them shakes then shatters, raining glass onto Gabriel's back. The room goes dark, lit only by the moonlight through the windows. "Long gone. It's me and you. That's it. Nothing gonna happen to you. I'm not gonna let it."
There is a certain warm satisfaction to hearing such sentiments, even fuelled as they are by a fever and delirium. Not too long ago, Castiel would have bet that Gabriel would have been happy to allow him to be fed to the wolves: Gabriel had hidden away, looking after only himself. Now it's changed. Hell can morph a being's priorities.
Satisfaction gives way to crushing pain as Gabriel's wings and Grace tighten their hold: too much. He isn't an archangel like Gabriel; he had not be designed to withstand such strength. He chokes out Gabriel's name, bucking in a futile attempt to gain space. He can feel his vessel bruising, bones close to breaking point; he had not even been aware of how to feel pain in this body. It is supposed to be nearly impossible to damage.
"Gabriel, let go of him," Dean snaps, with the kind of voice that suggests he's about to try and shoot something. If Castiel had the air or the presence of mind, he would remind Dean that such an action would be bound to end badly.
Sam seems to do the deed for him instead, scolding Dean to back off. "Look at me. Gabriel, look at me." There's a long, uncertain pause before Gabriel does as he's told. Through the pain, Castiel can feel the rapid movement of Gabriel's chest, short, shallow pants for breath. His heart is hammering like a human's. Terror. Every inch of Gabriel's body speaks of a terror that Castiel would not have thought him capable of experiencing.
"It's me. Sam. Not Lucifer. That's Dean, not Michael. We won. The angels, they went home. The world's safe now. Safe as it's ever going to be, anyway."
There are some days when Castiel still does not believe this. The Earth has been a battlefield for so long that to find peace here feels like it has to be a fake of some sort: but their Father has come home. He has set the world right once more, for now. It's enough. There are still demons and ghosts and human darkness to contend with, but it is a far cry from the dire situation it had been in when he last saw Gabriel.
Looking at Sam, Gabriel gradually releases his hold. His wings retreat, his Grace withdraws, and Castiel is freed. He doesn't move.
"I need to lie down," Gabriel announces.
Castiel shifts out of the way so that Gabriel can slump onto the bed, face first before he rolls over onto his back. At the insistent tugging of Gabriel's hands, Castiel lies down beside him and allows Gabriel to push and prod him into the position he wants. With his head resting on Gabriel's chest, Castiel can hear his brother's heart beating: his dead brother is alive once more. His very own Lazarus.
He places his hand on Gabriel's belly, stroking soothing circles with his hand. Aware that the hunters in the room are watching them, he offers no explanation. There is nothing to be said, and as Gabriel begins to toy with his hair Castiel finds himself unsure of who is comforting who.
"You should leave now," Gabriel tells the others, with a sense of weary exhaustion that no angel should ever experience. "I don't want you around while I'm sleeping."
Apparently unconcerned that he is stealing their motel room, he clicks his fingers and the hunters vanish. For his part, Castiel is glad to have them gone. It is not often that he has been allowed to lie with an archangel in this way, one of his idealised brothers - and it has been a full year since he has encountered any of his own kind. A year is only an eye-blink in their lifetimes, but it has felt like long enough.
He doesn't react when Gabriel kisses his forehead, lingering thoughtfully. His lips are dry; his skin is cold.
Lying together, they rest as Gabriel restores himself. Small, wheezing snores emerges from his lips, which Castiel knows that Dean would find incredibly amusing were he still here. It doesn't matter. To Castiel, they are signs that Gabriel is back - alive, annoying, and himself.
Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Sam (pre-Castiel/Gabriel)
Word Count: 1428
Rating: PG
Spoilers: For 5x19 - Hammer of the Gods.
A/N: Written for the Angelcest Kink Meme.
Summary: Gabriel has been gone for one year before he appears once more in a blast of light and heat. Returned, he can only think about protecting Castiel from the same fate that befell him.
Gabriel has been gone for one year before he appears once more in a blast of light and heat.
They're in a hotel room: Castiel, Bobby and the Winchesters. They had been discussing the future of the world now that the threat of the end had passed.
(Sometimes, Castiel thinks that this is their only topic of conversation. Hunters are monotonous, he has found in his time on Earth).
Their contemplation is shattered when Castiel finds himself pinned to the nearest bed, his view of the world blocked out by black feathers and pallid skin. On instinct, he struggles: he shoves, pushes, kicks and wriggles. He can't move. Nothing budges.
Blinking, he brings his attacker into focus. The hunters are trying to pull him away, but as Castiel recognises him he knows it won't work.
"It's Gabriel," he says, before he raises his voice and repeats the sentence. The second time, the boys listen. They back off.
Gabriel still doesn't move.
Castiel tries to move, even an inch, but Gabriel's grip tightens. His Grace is smothering.
"Gabriel?" Sam says. From his vantage point trapped underneath Gabriel, Castiel can't see any of the other occupants of the room. "Are you okay?"
Gabriel's eyes are glazed as if he isn't fully in the room at all; his mind is elsewhere, and it's trapped there. "Gabriel," Castiel murmurs. "You are safe here."
The grip around him tightens. It feels as if the world flickers and disappears, swamped in this power. "It's not," Gabriel whispers.
He can speak. That, at least, is something.
"I assure you: no harm will come to you here."
Lucifer is gone. Michael has retreated. God has returned to heaven. The universe is as it should be.
Gabriel shakes his head, two tiny movements. Castiel can see the pasty nature of his skin and the beads of sweat that adorn it. He looks like a human: sick and fevered. Heat floods from where his body is pinning Castiel down, making movement impossible.
"I believe he is sick," he says, raising his voice enough that he can be heard. He still cannot see the Winchesters or Bobby, drowned out as they are by Gabriel's wings.
"They'll come for you," Gabriel whispers. His lips are trembling, voice shaking. Castiel has never seen him like this before: he has always been confident to the point of arrogance. There has always been a smug smile on his face. "He'll come for you."
"Who are you talking about?" Sam asks before Castiel has the chance to respond - because Castiel already knows. He recognises that fear in his brother's eyes.
A shiver runs through Gabriel's body, pressed against Castiel. Every vibration passes through to him too - and Gabriel's grip tightens as if he wants to crush bone. Castiel steels his Grace, restored to him by their Father, and tries to remain unharmed.
"Lucifer," Gabriel snaps, like Castiel knew he would. "Who else?"
"Lucifer's gone," Sam assures him. Castiel feels the dip of the bed as Sam tries to sit down beside them, but it vanishes quickly: it isn't a good idea to approach an angel when he's this tense. Hopefully, Sam has simply been pushed back and hasn't been sent to the other side of the world. "He's back in Hell now."
"Hell," Gabriel repeats.
When Castiel hears that word, the way that Gabriel says it, he knows exactly where Gabriel has been. Killed by Lucifer, he had not been sent back to heaven or even erased completely from existence - he had been sent downstairs. A prisoner this time, not a crusader.
It makes his heart ache.
"You are out now," Castiel promises. He tries to hold Gabriel's gaze and impart that sense of knowledge, that sense of security. It won't work. He doesn't know if anything more than time (eternity) will soothe those memories away.
"It's just us two," Gabriel says. "We're all that's left."
"The others have returned home," Castiel assures him, but Gabriel shakes his head: won't believe him. The world is filled with an aching absence of their kind. There is no one to sense. No Grace but their own. It is a lonely existence.
"They are dead, kid," Gabriel snaps at him. The light-bulb above them shakes then shatters, raining glass onto Gabriel's back. The room goes dark, lit only by the moonlight through the windows. "Long gone. It's me and you. That's it. Nothing gonna happen to you. I'm not gonna let it."
There is a certain warm satisfaction to hearing such sentiments, even fuelled as they are by a fever and delirium. Not too long ago, Castiel would have bet that Gabriel would have been happy to allow him to be fed to the wolves: Gabriel had hidden away, looking after only himself. Now it's changed. Hell can morph a being's priorities.
Satisfaction gives way to crushing pain as Gabriel's wings and Grace tighten their hold: too much. He isn't an archangel like Gabriel; he had not be designed to withstand such strength. He chokes out Gabriel's name, bucking in a futile attempt to gain space. He can feel his vessel bruising, bones close to breaking point; he had not even been aware of how to feel pain in this body. It is supposed to be nearly impossible to damage.
"Gabriel, let go of him," Dean snaps, with the kind of voice that suggests he's about to try and shoot something. If Castiel had the air or the presence of mind, he would remind Dean that such an action would be bound to end badly.
Sam seems to do the deed for him instead, scolding Dean to back off. "Look at me. Gabriel, look at me." There's a long, uncertain pause before Gabriel does as he's told. Through the pain, Castiel can feel the rapid movement of Gabriel's chest, short, shallow pants for breath. His heart is hammering like a human's. Terror. Every inch of Gabriel's body speaks of a terror that Castiel would not have thought him capable of experiencing.
"It's me. Sam. Not Lucifer. That's Dean, not Michael. We won. The angels, they went home. The world's safe now. Safe as it's ever going to be, anyway."
There are some days when Castiel still does not believe this. The Earth has been a battlefield for so long that to find peace here feels like it has to be a fake of some sort: but their Father has come home. He has set the world right once more, for now. It's enough. There are still demons and ghosts and human darkness to contend with, but it is a far cry from the dire situation it had been in when he last saw Gabriel.
Looking at Sam, Gabriel gradually releases his hold. His wings retreat, his Grace withdraws, and Castiel is freed. He doesn't move.
"I need to lie down," Gabriel announces.
Castiel shifts out of the way so that Gabriel can slump onto the bed, face first before he rolls over onto his back. At the insistent tugging of Gabriel's hands, Castiel lies down beside him and allows Gabriel to push and prod him into the position he wants. With his head resting on Gabriel's chest, Castiel can hear his brother's heart beating: his dead brother is alive once more. His very own Lazarus.
He places his hand on Gabriel's belly, stroking soothing circles with his hand. Aware that the hunters in the room are watching them, he offers no explanation. There is nothing to be said, and as Gabriel begins to toy with his hair Castiel finds himself unsure of who is comforting who.
"You should leave now," Gabriel tells the others, with a sense of weary exhaustion that no angel should ever experience. "I don't want you around while I'm sleeping."
Apparently unconcerned that he is stealing their motel room, he clicks his fingers and the hunters vanish. For his part, Castiel is glad to have them gone. It is not often that he has been allowed to lie with an archangel in this way, one of his idealised brothers - and it has been a full year since he has encountered any of his own kind. A year is only an eye-blink in their lifetimes, but it has felt like long enough.
He doesn't react when Gabriel kisses his forehead, lingering thoughtfully. His lips are dry; his skin is cold.
Lying together, they rest as Gabriel restores himself. Small, wheezing snores emerges from his lips, which Castiel knows that Dean would find incredibly amusing were he still here. It doesn't matter. To Castiel, they are signs that Gabriel is back - alive, annoying, and himself.