All's Fair, for fan_flashworks, Trope Bingo, and H/C Bingo
Title: All’s Fair
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Kali/Baldur, Kali/Gabriel, Dean, Sam
Warnings (including spoilers): Slight mindcontrol, major spoilers for 5.19 Hammer of the Gods, vague spoilers for most of the series after that.
Wordcount: 1,260 words
Author’s note: Written not very quickly for the fan-flashworks prompt ‘Fight’ and for the trope-bingo square ‘Mind control’ and for the hc_bingo prompt ‘Imprisonment.’
Summary: Love for family is not the only love there is, and sometimes, you have to choose.
[*]
The ground shakes behind you.
It’s not enough to impair the human’s driving, but they’re on edge-- so are you, though of course you don’t show it-- and he pulls the vehicle over to the side of the road. “What the hell was that?” he asks of the long-haired one. They share pathetic, wide-eyed expressions, and now you can see the family resemblance.
“Death,” you say softly. They turn to look at you, but you gaze at the foliage beside the road. “I hoped it wouldn’t have to be this way.”
“Wait-- Gabriel?” the younger one stutters.
“I have to go,” you say, then consider. Normally, you wouldn’t bother with these sort of humans, but with the way things are shaping, it might be useful to have the regard of Heaven’s current celebrities. “Thank you for conveying me.”
You do not have much time to decide your next move.
[*]
You spend valuable seconds ensuring that Lucifer has left the hotel. You know, now, that you and your fellow gods were not a match for him, and that fact cuts deeply into your pride. Thousands of years ago, no one would have dared to challenge you. Now, it seems you must fight fire with fire and teach the lesson again.
Without the magic of the gods to sustain it, the hotel has returned to its original rotting state. Finding the corpses of so many friends and respected enemies amongst such filth is salt in your wounds, but you don’t let go of your iron control. When you come to the ballroom, however, you let out a small gasp.
His vessel-- as you now know it to be-- is spread-eagled on the floor, his wings and halo burned into the wood around him. His sword glints in the dust.
You pick it up. It is much heavier than the one with which you stabbed him earlier in the evening. This is pure and it feels like him. You spin it around in your hand and stab the floor.
Soon, a fire is going near his corpse, the scent of burnt herbs and spices filling the air. Carved around his vessel is the pattern of your spell. You call his name-- his real name-- and begin to dance.
By the time your have circled his vessel nine times, the fire around him licks the ceiling. You step away and it turns pure white. Carefully, you feed in his blood and his sword, and finish the incantation. There is a flash of light, and then nothing.
Your vision will take a minute to return, but you can hear his breaths, deep and new. You turn away and nearly fall, limbs trembling, but you steady yourself and walk on. There is more to do.
[*]
Baldur's body is crumbling into ash on a makeshift pyre when Gabriel leans against the doorframe behind you. His heart is beating fast, and he gasps; probably unused to the feeling of his vessel being truly alive, not under the control of his grace. You don't look away from the flames you are keeping alight with the last of your strength. Baldur deserves a warrior's funeral, even if charging the Morningstar was idiotic.
Thankfully, Gabriel doesn't approach you until Baldur has burned away to nothing; it would have tired you more to set him ablaze when you are this drained. When he does move, it is to lay your cloak around your shoulders. You rub the hem of it between your fingers, unsurprised that he remembered your tendency to feel chilled after expending so much energy.
“I’m sorry about him,” he says quietly.
“I didn't care for him much,” you reply. “He was a convenient ally.”
Gabriel's hands slide softly down your shoulders and upper arms, then back up. The intimacy in the gesture is unexpected. He was always the more romantic, but his overtures were never so simple and honest. “I meant about Lucifer.”
You turn around, read in a heartbeat the feelings he's never been able to hide from you, no matter how good a Trickster. “I do not blame you for your brother's actions,” you reply bluntly. “Only your own.”
You look down at him. Those eyes that you have most often seen gleaming with mischief or lust are deep with sorrow and guilt. “I should have stopped him.”
“Why didn't you?”
He cringes slightly. “I can't. Kali... he's my brother.”
He is begging for your understanding, not your forgiveness. Your former lover knows more than anyone that you do not forgive until you decide to do so, and he knows better than to ask for it. But you do understand. For every god who will imprison, torture, consume, murder or betray their siblings, there is another who will go any lengths to protect them. Such is the way of love.
“I understand.” You cup his face as it softens, as tears form in his eyes, tears he would never shed with anyone but yourself. “I forgive you.”
“Kali--” he sobs, crumpling. You hold him to your body, accept his shivers and the few tears on your shoulder. Ponder the fact that angel tears can be used in any number of deep magics.
Love for family is not the only love there is.
Once Gabriel quiets, you pull his head up by the hair. A corner of his mouth quirks familiarly. “Time to blow this popsicle stand?”
“I still want to stop the Apocalypse.”
The smile fades. “Kali... you can't.”
“But you can.” He shakes his head, despair returning. You tighten your grip on his hair. “I brought you back to life for a reason, Gabriel. I took your advice, I skipped to the end, and this story does not end well without your assistance.”
“Kali--”
“The Apocalypse is averted without your help,” you interrupt, and his eyes widen in shock. You grit your teeth. “But after that, everything changes. One of your angels goes rogue and blows all of the non-Western Gods off the face of the Earth! He commands that all of my people worship him! And as if that isn't blasphemy enough, a dozen waves of your Judeo-Christian monstrosities come after him! The planet is never free of the destruction that your religion brings to it!”
Your hand is crushing his windpipe, and his eyes are blown with panic at the unfamiliar sensation of being humanly close to death. You remember that his grace is still weak and fragile, and release him to gasps of air.
“You will return to the Winchesters. You will help them defeat Lucifer, and whoever else must be stopped to ensure the safety and balance of this world.”
“Yeah? You gonna make me?”
Gabriel purses his lips, juts out his chin, the quirks you've known for a thousand years. You've known him for a thousand years, better than he's known himself, because even if his exact nature has been hidden your lover has never been able to hide his heart. You know this is the best way, even if he hates you forever, even if he destroys you afterwards. But you have your people to think of. You have his life to think of. “Yes.”
You snap your fingers, and he jerks as the blood magic takes him over. He struggles against it for a mere moment before his beautiful eyes turn to you, gut-wrenching in their betrayal. “Kali!”
You hold him still with your mind and lean in for one last kiss. “I'm sorry, my love.”
His eyes promise revenge, and you nod. Then you snap your fingers again.
My Trope Bingo Card
My HC Bingo Card
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Kali/Baldur, Kali/Gabriel, Dean, Sam
Warnings (including spoilers): Slight mindcontrol, major spoilers for 5.19 Hammer of the Gods, vague spoilers for most of the series after that.
Wordcount: 1,260 words
Author’s note: Written not very quickly for the fan-flashworks prompt ‘Fight’ and for the trope-bingo square ‘Mind control’ and for the hc_bingo prompt ‘Imprisonment.’
Summary: Love for family is not the only love there is, and sometimes, you have to choose.
[*]
The ground shakes behind you.
It’s not enough to impair the human’s driving, but they’re on edge-- so are you, though of course you don’t show it-- and he pulls the vehicle over to the side of the road. “What the hell was that?” he asks of the long-haired one. They share pathetic, wide-eyed expressions, and now you can see the family resemblance.
“Death,” you say softly. They turn to look at you, but you gaze at the foliage beside the road. “I hoped it wouldn’t have to be this way.”
“Wait-- Gabriel?” the younger one stutters.
“I have to go,” you say, then consider. Normally, you wouldn’t bother with these sort of humans, but with the way things are shaping, it might be useful to have the regard of Heaven’s current celebrities. “Thank you for conveying me.”
You do not have much time to decide your next move.
[*]
You spend valuable seconds ensuring that Lucifer has left the hotel. You know, now, that you and your fellow gods were not a match for him, and that fact cuts deeply into your pride. Thousands of years ago, no one would have dared to challenge you. Now, it seems you must fight fire with fire and teach the lesson again.
Without the magic of the gods to sustain it, the hotel has returned to its original rotting state. Finding the corpses of so many friends and respected enemies amongst such filth is salt in your wounds, but you don’t let go of your iron control. When you come to the ballroom, however, you let out a small gasp.
His vessel-- as you now know it to be-- is spread-eagled on the floor, his wings and halo burned into the wood around him. His sword glints in the dust.
You pick it up. It is much heavier than the one with which you stabbed him earlier in the evening. This is pure and it feels like him. You spin it around in your hand and stab the floor.
Soon, a fire is going near his corpse, the scent of burnt herbs and spices filling the air. Carved around his vessel is the pattern of your spell. You call his name-- his real name-- and begin to dance.
By the time your have circled his vessel nine times, the fire around him licks the ceiling. You step away and it turns pure white. Carefully, you feed in his blood and his sword, and finish the incantation. There is a flash of light, and then nothing.
Your vision will take a minute to return, but you can hear his breaths, deep and new. You turn away and nearly fall, limbs trembling, but you steady yourself and walk on. There is more to do.
[*]
Baldur's body is crumbling into ash on a makeshift pyre when Gabriel leans against the doorframe behind you. His heart is beating fast, and he gasps; probably unused to the feeling of his vessel being truly alive, not under the control of his grace. You don't look away from the flames you are keeping alight with the last of your strength. Baldur deserves a warrior's funeral, even if charging the Morningstar was idiotic.
Thankfully, Gabriel doesn't approach you until Baldur has burned away to nothing; it would have tired you more to set him ablaze when you are this drained. When he does move, it is to lay your cloak around your shoulders. You rub the hem of it between your fingers, unsurprised that he remembered your tendency to feel chilled after expending so much energy.
“I’m sorry about him,” he says quietly.
“I didn't care for him much,” you reply. “He was a convenient ally.”
Gabriel's hands slide softly down your shoulders and upper arms, then back up. The intimacy in the gesture is unexpected. He was always the more romantic, but his overtures were never so simple and honest. “I meant about Lucifer.”
You turn around, read in a heartbeat the feelings he's never been able to hide from you, no matter how good a Trickster. “I do not blame you for your brother's actions,” you reply bluntly. “Only your own.”
You look down at him. Those eyes that you have most often seen gleaming with mischief or lust are deep with sorrow and guilt. “I should have stopped him.”
“Why didn't you?”
He cringes slightly. “I can't. Kali... he's my brother.”
He is begging for your understanding, not your forgiveness. Your former lover knows more than anyone that you do not forgive until you decide to do so, and he knows better than to ask for it. But you do understand. For every god who will imprison, torture, consume, murder or betray their siblings, there is another who will go any lengths to protect them. Such is the way of love.
“I understand.” You cup his face as it softens, as tears form in his eyes, tears he would never shed with anyone but yourself. “I forgive you.”
“Kali--” he sobs, crumpling. You hold him to your body, accept his shivers and the few tears on your shoulder. Ponder the fact that angel tears can be used in any number of deep magics.
Love for family is not the only love there is.
Once Gabriel quiets, you pull his head up by the hair. A corner of his mouth quirks familiarly. “Time to blow this popsicle stand?”
“I still want to stop the Apocalypse.”
The smile fades. “Kali... you can't.”
“But you can.” He shakes his head, despair returning. You tighten your grip on his hair. “I brought you back to life for a reason, Gabriel. I took your advice, I skipped to the end, and this story does not end well without your assistance.”
“Kali--”
“The Apocalypse is averted without your help,” you interrupt, and his eyes widen in shock. You grit your teeth. “But after that, everything changes. One of your angels goes rogue and blows all of the non-Western Gods off the face of the Earth! He commands that all of my people worship him! And as if that isn't blasphemy enough, a dozen waves of your Judeo-Christian monstrosities come after him! The planet is never free of the destruction that your religion brings to it!”
Your hand is crushing his windpipe, and his eyes are blown with panic at the unfamiliar sensation of being humanly close to death. You remember that his grace is still weak and fragile, and release him to gasps of air.
“You will return to the Winchesters. You will help them defeat Lucifer, and whoever else must be stopped to ensure the safety and balance of this world.”
“Yeah? You gonna make me?”
Gabriel purses his lips, juts out his chin, the quirks you've known for a thousand years. You've known him for a thousand years, better than he's known himself, because even if his exact nature has been hidden your lover has never been able to hide his heart. You know this is the best way, even if he hates you forever, even if he destroys you afterwards. But you have your people to think of. You have his life to think of. “Yes.”
You snap your fingers, and he jerks as the blood magic takes him over. He struggles against it for a mere moment before his beautiful eyes turn to you, gut-wrenching in their betrayal. “Kali!”
You hold him still with your mind and lean in for one last kiss. “I'm sorry, my love.”
His eyes promise revenge, and you nod. Then you snap your fingers again.
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