[Fic] Pay the piper, pay your dues. I don't have that much left to lose.
Prompt: Wombat, requested by rayney_day
Word Count: 1247
Characters: Gabriel, Chuck Shurley
Timeline/Verse: Non-specific, but post- 5X19: Hammer of the Gods
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Chuck Shurley is not binding to any journal.
They say the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. Honestly, knowing Lucifer, that was probably not the truest observation- he was kind of a loudmouthed brat- but when it came down to it... Well, a lot of questions of faith got raised and people started doubting in the not-fun ways when you make that statement a little more... True to life.
“The greatest trick God ever pulled was convincing the world He was dead” just... Didn’t have the same ring to it.
And the Host would know this, because, well, the Host was a writer.... In a writer.
Whatever.
Either way, the important thing was that God had good intentions for being the Absent Father of the Year. The kids were never going to learn to think for themselves if He was in His Heaven and all was right with the world. Really, He had the angels’ best interests at heart and... Yes, it did hurt to see them struggling along and screwing up- he did get a faceful of Castiel’s sad puppy eyes several times over, after all, and, in one case, that was very much literal- but the important thing was that they found their own footing. Humans had managed with God being just an idea that they had undeniable faith in. God could be that idea for the angels again.
.... He hadn’t really anticipated them being so pissed off about it.
So God didn’t know everything. Go figure. Parenting sucks for everyone.
~*~
Chuck Shurley, part-time Prophet of the Lord and full time host for the... Host, found Himself staring at a wombat. This was unusual for a number of reasons. The first being that wombats were not native to Kripke’s Hollow by any stretch of the imagination. The second was... Actually, the unexpected appearance of a wombat on his doorstep was really the most unusual part of the whole thing. The how could be explained- He’d know one of his children’s handiwork anywhere and, by the way, most parents got macaroni art, not angry marsupials. The why... Well, that was hard to figure out even by God’s standards, but considering where the aforementioned angry marsupial had come from, there was probably no rhyme or reason to it. Obviously, it wasn’t a threat.... More like... A really unconventional reminder.
Chuck locked eyes with the wombat. It bristled at Him. He looked up at the sky, which... Later he would probably consider ironic in the Alanis Morissette definition of the word.
“Okay, Gabriel. Let’s talk.”
~*~
In retrospect, Gabriel figured he should’ve been a hell of a lot more frightened right now, but when your estranged Father is currently in the only body in the Western Hemisphere shorter than yours, fear just sort of... Takes a siesta in the corner. And, honestly, what the fuck was the old bastard gonna do anyway? Kill him again? Yeah, if that were His intent, he would’ve just... Let him stay dead, which as shitty as dying was, would’ve left him with some dignity.
“How did you even find me?” The Host, as it turned out, had apparently lost most of His dignity when He decided to retire to... This place. Gabriel would’ve guessed Boca, but whatever floated His ineffable boat. The archangel paced around the ramshackle house, fiddling with this and that and taking his dear sweet time answering, while his Father just stood in a corner looking none too almighty and all-too exasperated.
Finally, Gabriel turned around and whipped something out of his pocket- a little pewter charm on a black cord. Chuck made a face at the sight of it. “Oh. I, uh.... Thought Castiel got rid of that.”
“He did,” Gabriel responded, his tone about as belligerent as he could get without sounding too disrespectful, although the twist of his lips and the way his vessel’s eyes were turning that weird amber color they turned when he was starting to get pissed off said more than enough about how far Gabriel’s respect went right now than anything.
“Oh,” Chuck repeated. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of His neck. This wasn’t the sort of behavior one expected from God, but He’d gotten used to being undercover. Things happened. And this was just awkward.
When Gabriel refused to offer an explanation, because he clearly expected his Father to be the one doing the explaining, Chuck crossed the room and yanked the necklace out of his hands before flailing his arms wildly. “What... What do you want me to say, Gabriel?”
“How about why?” Gabriel snapped, suddenly not caring about his tone or the fact that he could join Michael and Lucifer in Perdition for this. He just didn’t fucking care anymore. Nice, honestly, stopped at the wombat. Everything else was just courtesy.
“Because you actually got it,” Chuck flailed. “What I’ve been trying to make you all understand. Out of millions of angels, you and Castiel are the only two who actually get the point. We need more angels like that.”
Gabriel gave him a look. “Why did you leave?”
“Why didn’t you tell Sam Winchester you were an angel in Boward County?” Chuck shot back.
Gabriel, surprisingly, didn’t have a response to that. And God gained the upper hand in the argument, which was to be expected, because no one really expected God to lose an argument for long.
“I know. You’re pissed off and you’re angry and I understand that. And... And if I have to put all of you through divine therapy to get over the massive abandonment issues I’ve given you, I’ll do it, but I had good intentions.”
“Like you had good intentions kicking Lucifer to the curb?” Gabriel didn’t intend to be outdone. He came into this conversation with the intent to find out every answer he’d ever wanted from the Old Man and he’d have to be thrown out before he left without them. The fact that God hadn’t spoke volumes. Maybe he just expected this was going to happen one day.
Chuck rubbed the back of His neck again. “That was different.”
“You want us to think for ourselves now? What about then? Huh?” Gabriel rolled his eyes, clearly growing disgusted by the whole conversation.
“Not just thinking for yourselves, Gabriel. I wanted you to look to them. You weren’t gonna do it with me there. That’s what happened with Lucifer and I hate that it happened. I-I loved him. You know that.”
“So that’s what it all comes down to... You just leave us alone and hope we start falling all over ourselves to look after the new kids? That it?”
After a moment’s pause, Chuck scratched His head. “Those... Were not the words I would use, but... Sorta.” When Gabriel failed to respond, he dropped His hand and stared up into his son’s eyes. “Gabriel, you said I was right and I know you believe it.”
“You still left,” Gabriel said quietly. “And no matter what I think? Nothing is gonna fix that. You’re just like them now. Flawed, broken.... Wrong.”
Gabriel expected anger, righteous fury and wrath, but Chuck didn’t say a word. He just twisted the cord of Dean’s necklace around his fingers a little more. The archangel waited in tense silence for about three minutes, his vessel’s heart pounding in his ears and when nothing came, he started walking towards the door, pausing just beside his Father to add one last thing.
“But You can still try.”
Word Count: 1247
Characters: Gabriel, Chuck Shurley
Timeline/Verse: Non-specific, but post- 5X19: Hammer of the Gods
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Chuck Shurley is not binding to any journal.
They say the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. Honestly, knowing Lucifer, that was probably not the truest observation- he was kind of a loudmouthed brat- but when it came down to it... Well, a lot of questions of faith got raised and people started doubting in the not-fun ways when you make that statement a little more... True to life.
“The greatest trick God ever pulled was convincing the world He was dead” just... Didn’t have the same ring to it.
And the Host would know this, because, well, the Host was a writer.... In a writer.
Whatever.
Either way, the important thing was that God had good intentions for being the Absent Father of the Year. The kids were never going to learn to think for themselves if He was in His Heaven and all was right with the world. Really, He had the angels’ best interests at heart and... Yes, it did hurt to see them struggling along and screwing up- he did get a faceful of Castiel’s sad puppy eyes several times over, after all, and, in one case, that was very much literal- but the important thing was that they found their own footing. Humans had managed with God being just an idea that they had undeniable faith in. God could be that idea for the angels again.
.... He hadn’t really anticipated them being so pissed off about it.
So God didn’t know everything. Go figure. Parenting sucks for everyone.
~*~
Chuck Shurley, part-time Prophet of the Lord and full time host for the... Host, found Himself staring at a wombat. This was unusual for a number of reasons. The first being that wombats were not native to Kripke’s Hollow by any stretch of the imagination. The second was... Actually, the unexpected appearance of a wombat on his doorstep was really the most unusual part of the whole thing. The how could be explained- He’d know one of his children’s handiwork anywhere and, by the way, most parents got macaroni art, not angry marsupials. The why... Well, that was hard to figure out even by God’s standards, but considering where the aforementioned angry marsupial had come from, there was probably no rhyme or reason to it. Obviously, it wasn’t a threat.... More like... A really unconventional reminder.
Chuck locked eyes with the wombat. It bristled at Him. He looked up at the sky, which... Later he would probably consider ironic in the Alanis Morissette definition of the word.
“Okay, Gabriel. Let’s talk.”
~*~
In retrospect, Gabriel figured he should’ve been a hell of a lot more frightened right now, but when your estranged Father is currently in the only body in the Western Hemisphere shorter than yours, fear just sort of... Takes a siesta in the corner. And, honestly, what the fuck was the old bastard gonna do anyway? Kill him again? Yeah, if that were His intent, he would’ve just... Let him stay dead, which as shitty as dying was, would’ve left him with some dignity.
“How did you even find me?” The Host, as it turned out, had apparently lost most of His dignity when He decided to retire to... This place. Gabriel would’ve guessed Boca, but whatever floated His ineffable boat. The archangel paced around the ramshackle house, fiddling with this and that and taking his dear sweet time answering, while his Father just stood in a corner looking none too almighty and all-too exasperated.
Finally, Gabriel turned around and whipped something out of his pocket- a little pewter charm on a black cord. Chuck made a face at the sight of it. “Oh. I, uh.... Thought Castiel got rid of that.”
“He did,” Gabriel responded, his tone about as belligerent as he could get without sounding too disrespectful, although the twist of his lips and the way his vessel’s eyes were turning that weird amber color they turned when he was starting to get pissed off said more than enough about how far Gabriel’s respect went right now than anything.
“Oh,” Chuck repeated. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of His neck. This wasn’t the sort of behavior one expected from God, but He’d gotten used to being undercover. Things happened. And this was just awkward.
When Gabriel refused to offer an explanation, because he clearly expected his Father to be the one doing the explaining, Chuck crossed the room and yanked the necklace out of his hands before flailing his arms wildly. “What... What do you want me to say, Gabriel?”
“How about why?” Gabriel snapped, suddenly not caring about his tone or the fact that he could join Michael and Lucifer in Perdition for this. He just didn’t fucking care anymore. Nice, honestly, stopped at the wombat. Everything else was just courtesy.
“Because you actually got it,” Chuck flailed. “What I’ve been trying to make you all understand. Out of millions of angels, you and Castiel are the only two who actually get the point. We need more angels like that.”
Gabriel gave him a look. “Why did you leave?”
“Why didn’t you tell Sam Winchester you were an angel in Boward County?” Chuck shot back.
Gabriel, surprisingly, didn’t have a response to that. And God gained the upper hand in the argument, which was to be expected, because no one really expected God to lose an argument for long.
“I know. You’re pissed off and you’re angry and I understand that. And... And if I have to put all of you through divine therapy to get over the massive abandonment issues I’ve given you, I’ll do it, but I had good intentions.”
“Like you had good intentions kicking Lucifer to the curb?” Gabriel didn’t intend to be outdone. He came into this conversation with the intent to find out every answer he’d ever wanted from the Old Man and he’d have to be thrown out before he left without them. The fact that God hadn’t spoke volumes. Maybe he just expected this was going to happen one day.
Chuck rubbed the back of His neck again. “That was different.”
“You want us to think for ourselves now? What about then? Huh?” Gabriel rolled his eyes, clearly growing disgusted by the whole conversation.
“Not just thinking for yourselves, Gabriel. I wanted you to look to them. You weren’t gonna do it with me there. That’s what happened with Lucifer and I hate that it happened. I-I loved him. You know that.”
“So that’s what it all comes down to... You just leave us alone and hope we start falling all over ourselves to look after the new kids? That it?”
After a moment’s pause, Chuck scratched His head. “Those... Were not the words I would use, but... Sorta.” When Gabriel failed to respond, he dropped His hand and stared up into his son’s eyes. “Gabriel, you said I was right and I know you believe it.”
“You still left,” Gabriel said quietly. “And no matter what I think? Nothing is gonna fix that. You’re just like them now. Flawed, broken.... Wrong.”
Gabriel expected anger, righteous fury and wrath, but Chuck didn’t say a word. He just twisted the cord of Dean’s necklace around his fingers a little more. The archangel waited in tense silence for about three minutes, his vessel’s heart pounding in his ears and when nothing came, he started walking towards the door, pausing just beside his Father to add one last thing.
“But You can still try.”