HC Bingo - Prompt 9
Title: Wheel in the Sky
Prompt: Combat Scenarios
Medium: fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, mild violence, Season 6 spoilers through 6:07.
Summary: Gabriel was resurrected, but sees that for him, nothing has changed. All he wanted was a few pints and a basket of jalapeño poppers... and then the demon Crowley had to walk into the bar. (Part 4 of the Lost Year 'Verse)
I'm casting blame on two people for this story: mrscastielftw and jaysawyer.
If you were to ask almost anyone, they would tell you that demons and angels are natural enemies. It would also be agreed by over half of those people would tell you that the angel would always win. Maybe even more than half - the other half either didn't know what they were talking about or were more drawn to the powers below than the powers above. You'd think that in a narrowly avoided Apocalypse, every loose end would be checked and dealt with. The nasty bit of Lucifer's vessel getting out of the pit without a scratch and the man's grandfather doing the same out of Heaven - surely that should have been the biggest wake up call in recent history. But as Gabriel reflected, staring into what was his third pint of Guinness, not even an archangel coming back from the dead seemed to wave the red flags in Heaven. He honestly didn't think the fighting could have gotten worse than it had been before the Apocalypse - and here he was, being proven wrong.
The only angel who'd even noticed he was back was Balthazar, who was assumed dead also - and had paid Gabriel the courtesy of snatching his horn before he left Heaven.
Quite honestly, the archangel would smite anyone who tried to use his horn. Angel, demon, human, pagan god - the Horn of Truth was one of the few things he guarded jealously and refused to share. Conduct unbecoming of an angel be damned, Michael was a pain in the ass and Raphael was starting to outdo him. Lucifer, of course, was a brat on top of an ass - so in retrospect, his possessiveness over his horn was understandable.
So now, here he was, trying to appear unmemorable in a bar at the end of a strip mall that was almost entirely empty - just wanting to be what he always was: left alone. And then the door opened and those plans got officially thrown out.
Gabriel's opinion of demons was to think of them one at a time and never as a group collectively. The one that just breezed into the bar in a suit that costs more than what the woman behind the bar will make in two months makes him want to throw something. Why can't demons learn to blend in if they're so out to get humanity? Of course, angels don't seem to know how to do that either, since he's seen a whole legion of them in human vessels dressed like lawyers. Subtlety was apparently one lesson that wasn't getting taught in either school. He shook his head and took another swig of Guiness as the waitress came over and set a basket full of jalapeño poppers in front of him.
“Anything else for you?”
Gabriel glances up at the woman, smiling. “I'm fine...” He nods to the demon who has just sat down at the bar. “But my buddy over there... I'd like to buy him a Shirley Temple.”
“He likes those?” The waitress is taken aback at the fact that the guy in the Armani suit would want something like that.
“He's crazy about them.” He smiles as the woman walks away with the order.
Crowley was having a spectacularly lousy....year. He'd snared power in Hell - absolute power almost - thank you, Lilith for getting your ass killed and leaving the gap and thank you Lucifer for getting your ass locked back up in the cage. Michael's presence was an added bonus and he knew it was only a matter of time before a troupe of angels got together and tried to come up with a way to bribe their fearless leader out of the cage. But that was all that was good. He'd gotten Sam out, sans soul - with the agreement he'd help collect alpha monsters - because why stop with Hell when you can have Purgatory too?
What the demon needed were some decent underlings who he didn't need to worry about trying to usurp him. Being the ruler of Hell wasn't without its problems. Running the crossroads wasn't the same as all of Hell. Now he actually had to keep track of nearly every demon there was, who was under contract and...
Being in charge was a major headache.
His next headache came in the form of a iced glass full of something sweet with two maraschino cherries swimming in it. “What the bloody Hell...”
“Your friend ordered it for you...” The bartender nodded towards the far corner of the room and Crowley turned and cursed. Fuck. “Thank you...” He looked down at the kiddie cocktail. “Love, this is great, but I could I also get a scotch on the rocks?”
“No problem.” She replied as Crowley stood, glass in hand and walked over to the table where Gabriel was sitting. “Where'd you come from?”
Gabriel snorted. “My daddy always told me I came from Heaven.... guessing yours didn't.”
“Snarky bastard...” He sat down across from the archangel. “What are you doing here?” He reached over and started to grab one of the poppers, only to have his hand caught in a grip that was inhumanly strong and burned slightly.
“Don't make me smite your pathetic little ass in front of all these nice people.” Gabriel growled as he released the demon's hand. “Believe me, there's plenty of people both on, above and below Earth who'd thank me.”
“Are there now?” Crowley said as the waitress set down the glass of scotch and left. “No one seems to give two craps your alive and kicking...” He downed half of the drink. “Oh wait, they didn't notice when you were alive before...”
Anger flashed in Gabriel's eyes. “I'm not the pathetic bastard who traded his soul for a bigger appendage between his legs.”
The demon smirked slightly. “Least I've got one.”
“I have a soul.” The archangel leaned back slightly, his eyes remaining dark. “...and a whole troupe of friends who'd love nothing more than to get rid of the lot of you.”
“Oh your little pagan friends?” Crowley shook his head. “Way I hear, your brother killed a lot of them a few months ago.”
“Not all of them.” Gabriel kept his voice even. “By the way, I ran into Kokopelli the other day... I knew you demons rarely do your own dirty work... but crawling to pagans for help keeping things in check?” He made a tisking sound. “Shame on you.”
“They know you're not Loki anymore... Kali told them all.”
“I'm willing to bet Kali bitch-slapped you with all of her hands the second you showed up on her door, am I right?” He smiled knowingly when the demon blanched. “I suggest you stay away from the pagans... they don't like demons anymore than they like angels.” He shrugged. “I'm afraid I get to be the only exception to that rule.”
“You really are quite the annoying bastard, Gabriel.” He downed some of the Shirley Temple, wincing at the sweetness. “After the stunt you pulled...”
“That was my business with Lilith, it's not your concern.” Gabriel ate one of the poppers, his expression stony.
“I can retract that, you...” Crowley didn't get a chance to finish speaking as he was hurled through several walls and vacant businesses only to crash into a display case full of Christmas ornaments. Colored glass fell down around him like rain and silence descended upon the store as he struggled to sit up. The next thing he felt was cold metal against his throat and found himself looking up at Gabriel.
“I'm only warning you once, Crowley. You even think of going there, and Hell will have to find a new ruler... and don't get me started on your pending contracts...”
Crowley held his hands up in a form of surrender. He'd been pushing it, yes - and losing what he worked so hard for... well, forget that. “You really think you're that powerful?”
Gabriel poked the tip of the sword into Crowley's neck, drawing blood. “You have no idea. The only reason I've not crushed you like the bug you are is the fact that I'd hurt fifty humans in the process, and unlike many of my siblings, I actually care about them... which is much more than I can say for you.”
*
Gabriel came back to his 'home' with a bag of ornaments and a worn expression. He'd fixed the stores and the minds of all the people in the strip mall, but he was still visibly annoyed. He hated demons with a passion and Crowley was rapidly working his way to the top of his top ten list. The house was nice and normal and to the outside observer, a little on the small side. But that was only on the outside. While most people only saw a small brick ranch house with blue shutters, inside - the place was twice the size of the outside. He set the bag down on the kitchen counter, walking quietly through the house, checking wards, sigils and repelling marks. All in place and all was quiet, except for the muffled voices coming from the family room. He quietly pushed open the door and looked inside, glowering at the television. “Any good news today?”
“If there is, they're not reporting it.” Came the voice from the couch.
“They never do.” Gabriel came and sat down. “Looks like I owe you fifty quid... I really shouldn't go out for a drink alone.”
The woman sitting next to him chuckled. “Well, did you have fun at least?”
“I had some fun...” He leaned back and smiled when she shifted to rest her head against his chest.
“You smell funny.”
“You're always saying that...” He rubbed his eyes. “I'm thinking we might take a little vacation.... ever been to Argentina?”
“What's in Argentina?”
“A bunch of idiots in need of just desserts, most likely.”
“Sounds like fun...” The woman grinned and looked up at him. “You'll let me help, right?”
“Of course.” Gabriel hugged her. “I wouldn't dream of leaving you out of it...”
“I still would have liked to help you last time...”
“Well, Bela... the Winchesters do think you're dead.”
“True... but it still would have been fun to mess with their heads that way....”
Gabriel chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” He replied before he kissed her properly.
Prompt: Combat Scenarios
Medium: fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, mild violence, Season 6 spoilers through 6:07.
Summary: Gabriel was resurrected, but sees that for him, nothing has changed. All he wanted was a few pints and a basket of jalapeño poppers... and then the demon Crowley had to walk into the bar. (Part 4 of the Lost Year 'Verse)
I'm casting blame on two people for this story: mrscastielftw and jaysawyer.
If you were to ask almost anyone, they would tell you that demons and angels are natural enemies. It would also be agreed by over half of those people would tell you that the angel would always win. Maybe even more than half - the other half either didn't know what they were talking about or were more drawn to the powers below than the powers above. You'd think that in a narrowly avoided Apocalypse, every loose end would be checked and dealt with. The nasty bit of Lucifer's vessel getting out of the pit without a scratch and the man's grandfather doing the same out of Heaven - surely that should have been the biggest wake up call in recent history. But as Gabriel reflected, staring into what was his third pint of Guinness, not even an archangel coming back from the dead seemed to wave the red flags in Heaven. He honestly didn't think the fighting could have gotten worse than it had been before the Apocalypse - and here he was, being proven wrong.
The only angel who'd even noticed he was back was Balthazar, who was assumed dead also - and had paid Gabriel the courtesy of snatching his horn before he left Heaven.
Quite honestly, the archangel would smite anyone who tried to use his horn. Angel, demon, human, pagan god - the Horn of Truth was one of the few things he guarded jealously and refused to share. Conduct unbecoming of an angel be damned, Michael was a pain in the ass and Raphael was starting to outdo him. Lucifer, of course, was a brat on top of an ass - so in retrospect, his possessiveness over his horn was understandable.
So now, here he was, trying to appear unmemorable in a bar at the end of a strip mall that was almost entirely empty - just wanting to be what he always was: left alone. And then the door opened and those plans got officially thrown out.
Gabriel's opinion of demons was to think of them one at a time and never as a group collectively. The one that just breezed into the bar in a suit that costs more than what the woman behind the bar will make in two months makes him want to throw something. Why can't demons learn to blend in if they're so out to get humanity? Of course, angels don't seem to know how to do that either, since he's seen a whole legion of them in human vessels dressed like lawyers. Subtlety was apparently one lesson that wasn't getting taught in either school. He shook his head and took another swig of Guiness as the waitress came over and set a basket full of jalapeño poppers in front of him.
“Anything else for you?”
Gabriel glances up at the woman, smiling. “I'm fine...” He nods to the demon who has just sat down at the bar. “But my buddy over there... I'd like to buy him a Shirley Temple.”
“He likes those?” The waitress is taken aback at the fact that the guy in the Armani suit would want something like that.
“He's crazy about them.” He smiles as the woman walks away with the order.
Crowley was having a spectacularly lousy....year. He'd snared power in Hell - absolute power almost - thank you, Lilith for getting your ass killed and leaving the gap and thank you Lucifer for getting your ass locked back up in the cage. Michael's presence was an added bonus and he knew it was only a matter of time before a troupe of angels got together and tried to come up with a way to bribe their fearless leader out of the cage. But that was all that was good. He'd gotten Sam out, sans soul - with the agreement he'd help collect alpha monsters - because why stop with Hell when you can have Purgatory too?
What the demon needed were some decent underlings who he didn't need to worry about trying to usurp him. Being the ruler of Hell wasn't without its problems. Running the crossroads wasn't the same as all of Hell. Now he actually had to keep track of nearly every demon there was, who was under contract and...
Being in charge was a major headache.
His next headache came in the form of a iced glass full of something sweet with two maraschino cherries swimming in it. “What the bloody Hell...”
“Your friend ordered it for you...” The bartender nodded towards the far corner of the room and Crowley turned and cursed. Fuck. “Thank you...” He looked down at the kiddie cocktail. “Love, this is great, but I could I also get a scotch on the rocks?”
“No problem.” She replied as Crowley stood, glass in hand and walked over to the table where Gabriel was sitting. “Where'd you come from?”
Gabriel snorted. “My daddy always told me I came from Heaven.... guessing yours didn't.”
“Snarky bastard...” He sat down across from the archangel. “What are you doing here?” He reached over and started to grab one of the poppers, only to have his hand caught in a grip that was inhumanly strong and burned slightly.
“Don't make me smite your pathetic little ass in front of all these nice people.” Gabriel growled as he released the demon's hand. “Believe me, there's plenty of people both on, above and below Earth who'd thank me.”
“Are there now?” Crowley said as the waitress set down the glass of scotch and left. “No one seems to give two craps your alive and kicking...” He downed half of the drink. “Oh wait, they didn't notice when you were alive before...”
Anger flashed in Gabriel's eyes. “I'm not the pathetic bastard who traded his soul for a bigger appendage between his legs.”
The demon smirked slightly. “Least I've got one.”
“I have a soul.” The archangel leaned back slightly, his eyes remaining dark. “...and a whole troupe of friends who'd love nothing more than to get rid of the lot of you.”
“Oh your little pagan friends?” Crowley shook his head. “Way I hear, your brother killed a lot of them a few months ago.”
“Not all of them.” Gabriel kept his voice even. “By the way, I ran into Kokopelli the other day... I knew you demons rarely do your own dirty work... but crawling to pagans for help keeping things in check?” He made a tisking sound. “Shame on you.”
“They know you're not Loki anymore... Kali told them all.”
“I'm willing to bet Kali bitch-slapped you with all of her hands the second you showed up on her door, am I right?” He smiled knowingly when the demon blanched. “I suggest you stay away from the pagans... they don't like demons anymore than they like angels.” He shrugged. “I'm afraid I get to be the only exception to that rule.”
“You really are quite the annoying bastard, Gabriel.” He downed some of the Shirley Temple, wincing at the sweetness. “After the stunt you pulled...”
“That was my business with Lilith, it's not your concern.” Gabriel ate one of the poppers, his expression stony.
“I can retract that, you...” Crowley didn't get a chance to finish speaking as he was hurled through several walls and vacant businesses only to crash into a display case full of Christmas ornaments. Colored glass fell down around him like rain and silence descended upon the store as he struggled to sit up. The next thing he felt was cold metal against his throat and found himself looking up at Gabriel.
“I'm only warning you once, Crowley. You even think of going there, and Hell will have to find a new ruler... and don't get me started on your pending contracts...”
Crowley held his hands up in a form of surrender. He'd been pushing it, yes - and losing what he worked so hard for... well, forget that. “You really think you're that powerful?”
Gabriel poked the tip of the sword into Crowley's neck, drawing blood. “You have no idea. The only reason I've not crushed you like the bug you are is the fact that I'd hurt fifty humans in the process, and unlike many of my siblings, I actually care about them... which is much more than I can say for you.”
*
Gabriel came back to his 'home' with a bag of ornaments and a worn expression. He'd fixed the stores and the minds of all the people in the strip mall, but he was still visibly annoyed. He hated demons with a passion and Crowley was rapidly working his way to the top of his top ten list. The house was nice and normal and to the outside observer, a little on the small side. But that was only on the outside. While most people only saw a small brick ranch house with blue shutters, inside - the place was twice the size of the outside. He set the bag down on the kitchen counter, walking quietly through the house, checking wards, sigils and repelling marks. All in place and all was quiet, except for the muffled voices coming from the family room. He quietly pushed open the door and looked inside, glowering at the television. “Any good news today?”
“If there is, they're not reporting it.” Came the voice from the couch.
“They never do.” Gabriel came and sat down. “Looks like I owe you fifty quid... I really shouldn't go out for a drink alone.”
The woman sitting next to him chuckled. “Well, did you have fun at least?”
“I had some fun...” He leaned back and smiled when she shifted to rest her head against his chest.
“You smell funny.”
“You're always saying that...” He rubbed his eyes. “I'm thinking we might take a little vacation.... ever been to Argentina?”
“What's in Argentina?”
“A bunch of idiots in need of just desserts, most likely.”
“Sounds like fun...” The woman grinned and looked up at him. “You'll let me help, right?”
“Of course.” Gabriel hugged her. “I wouldn't dream of leaving you out of it...”
“I still would have liked to help you last time...”
“Well, Bela... the Winchesters do think you're dead.”
“True... but it still would have been fun to mess with their heads that way....”
Gabriel chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” He replied before he kissed her properly.