Random Gabriel
"You will consume me, but I can't walk away."
for heavenvhellvus
He knows everything he has ever been. He should know everything he'll ever be. It's an angel's gift that he can see the grand plan, look beyond a single lifetime, a single year, a single century, into the inevitable framework of tomorrow. And so although Gabriel's decision is to hide on Earth, he knows it's all part of the plan anyway. He understands why he's there. He wishes he could escape it, but it's clear, he can't. All roads lead to the same place. No matter what choices he makes, the outcome will be the same.
So in the meantime, he hangs on the fringes of the world, watches it as a passerby might watch a family scene in a frosted windowpane. He plays with it occasionally, pastes his hands up against the panes and leaves ugly little thumbprints, but he's not involved. He's alone. That doesn't bother him.
When he does get involved, he uses humor and he uses violence. They're raw and easily understood. Humans get the point of a laugh, a slap. Anything between one and the other is murky, gray, confusing to them. Because they're simple, stupid little creatures who need to be guided, taught. And nothing else succeeds in teaching them.
He's done this before. He's played tricks with time and mind. And he's never seen a human who didn't eventually give in, give up, learn the lesson he was supposed to learn.
He's never been found out before.
And then Sam Winchester doesn't give in, and doesn't give up, and doesn't lose heart. He watches, and he's careful, and he waits, and he plans, and he never learns his lesson. So Gabriel's the one who gives in. Gives in, and gives him a single clue. It's all he needs.
In an instant he's pressing an elderly judge up against a fence and accusing him of being exactly who he is. And the man who has never before been on the receiving end of a joke is suddenly both: laughed at, and slapped. And he lets Sam go, let's him live to see the next day, because after so many years and so much despair he's actually been surprised for once.
And then random chance comes along and takes a knife to Sam's heart, and Gabriel who's just about to walk away is stopped in his tracks.
This. Oh, this can't be fair. Their game was done. The death was supposed to be over with, at least for now. This was not Gabriel's doing, but Sam blames him nonetheless. It takes Sam months to find him, but the whole time Gabriel watches. He watches the desperate fumblings of a man left in darkness. And he feels. Heaven help him, he feels for Sam. His days and nights are consumed by him. He's consumed.
When Sam finally does find him, Gabriel takes credit. He pretends it's just one more bitch of an object lesson. He lies. He saves face. He earns Sam's hate. But he aches. He aches when it happens all over again, when it's Dean's time. But it's the plan. He knows what's coming.
He watches Sam carry on, alone, and he sees Dean come back, and he sees them embrace, and he misses home. He misses his brothers. And he wishes that in a thousand years their relationship was anywhere near the one that Dean and Sam share.
Maybe when it's all over with he can come home. Maybe if he comes home he'll stop feeling this way.
He feels disconnected. Alone. Lonely. He wants something that he knows he can never have. Because he knows everything he's ever been, everything he ever will be, and it's not this, it's never this.
The chance to return to Heaven may yet come to him. And the funny thing is, Gabriel is starting to think that when it does, he won't take it.
He doesn't think he can walk away anymore.
for heavenvhellvus
He knows everything he has ever been. He should know everything he'll ever be. It's an angel's gift that he can see the grand plan, look beyond a single lifetime, a single year, a single century, into the inevitable framework of tomorrow. And so although Gabriel's decision is to hide on Earth, he knows it's all part of the plan anyway. He understands why he's there. He wishes he could escape it, but it's clear, he can't. All roads lead to the same place. No matter what choices he makes, the outcome will be the same.
So in the meantime, he hangs on the fringes of the world, watches it as a passerby might watch a family scene in a frosted windowpane. He plays with it occasionally, pastes his hands up against the panes and leaves ugly little thumbprints, but he's not involved. He's alone. That doesn't bother him.
When he does get involved, he uses humor and he uses violence. They're raw and easily understood. Humans get the point of a laugh, a slap. Anything between one and the other is murky, gray, confusing to them. Because they're simple, stupid little creatures who need to be guided, taught. And nothing else succeeds in teaching them.
He's done this before. He's played tricks with time and mind. And he's never seen a human who didn't eventually give in, give up, learn the lesson he was supposed to learn.
He's never been found out before.
And then Sam Winchester doesn't give in, and doesn't give up, and doesn't lose heart. He watches, and he's careful, and he waits, and he plans, and he never learns his lesson. So Gabriel's the one who gives in. Gives in, and gives him a single clue. It's all he needs.
In an instant he's pressing an elderly judge up against a fence and accusing him of being exactly who he is. And the man who has never before been on the receiving end of a joke is suddenly both: laughed at, and slapped. And he lets Sam go, let's him live to see the next day, because after so many years and so much despair he's actually been surprised for once.
And then random chance comes along and takes a knife to Sam's heart, and Gabriel who's just about to walk away is stopped in his tracks.
This. Oh, this can't be fair. Their game was done. The death was supposed to be over with, at least for now. This was not Gabriel's doing, but Sam blames him nonetheless. It takes Sam months to find him, but the whole time Gabriel watches. He watches the desperate fumblings of a man left in darkness. And he feels. Heaven help him, he feels for Sam. His days and nights are consumed by him. He's consumed.
When Sam finally does find him, Gabriel takes credit. He pretends it's just one more bitch of an object lesson. He lies. He saves face. He earns Sam's hate. But he aches. He aches when it happens all over again, when it's Dean's time. But it's the plan. He knows what's coming.
He watches Sam carry on, alone, and he sees Dean come back, and he sees them embrace, and he misses home. He misses his brothers. And he wishes that in a thousand years their relationship was anywhere near the one that Dean and Sam share.
Maybe when it's all over with he can come home. Maybe if he comes home he'll stop feeling this way.
He feels disconnected. Alone. Lonely. He wants something that he knows he can never have. Because he knows everything he's ever been, everything he ever will be, and it's not this, it's never this.
The chance to return to Heaven may yet come to him. And the funny thing is, Gabriel is starting to think that when it does, he won't take it.
He doesn't think he can walk away anymore.