Fic: Breath Of Heaven (SPN, Gabriel & Sam)
Title: Breath Of Heaven
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Gabriel
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: In a church at Christmas, Sam asks Gabriel about his time as messenger to the Virgin Mary. Gabriel is full of surprises.
Author Note: Title is inspired by the haunting song 'Breath of Heaven' by Amy Grant. Listen to it.
Sam snuck another look at Gabriel. He probably wasn’t going to get a more perfect opportunity than this. He cleared his throat.
“What was she like?”
An unreadable expression flickered across Gabriel’s face. His eyes stayed focused on the kneeling wooden figure that was part of the church’s crib scene. He'd been mesmerized by it since the moment they’d entered the church. It had put him in a strangely quiet mood, reflective, somber even. Maybe that was why he actually answered Sam, instead of retorting with one of his usual quips.
“Young.” His hand almost touched the figure. “Frightened. Funny.”
“Funny?”
“I’d told her she was going to pop out God’s Son without popping her cherry, Sam. Got to have a sense of humor to deal with that.”
Sam dropped all pretense of being casual and openly stared at the archangel, who was still staring at the crib, at the simple and undoubtedly crude representation of what had happened that night. Gabriel snorted.
“She gave birth in blood and shit, Sammy. And she nearly died. After that, she didn't know a day without pain.”
The following silence felt loud, crammed with everything that Gabriel wasn’t saying - that what God had done that night wasn’t just a celebrated miracle, it had also been so very human and as a result, the people He’d chosen for it had suffered for the rest of their lives.
“Was Joseph…..?”
“Tolerant.”
Sam remembered his Bible stories - he'd reread most of them after meeting his first angel. As her fiancé, Joseph had had the right to have her stoned to death for what had happened. Instead he’d married her after a dream….. “Was it you? The angel in his dream?”
Gabriel was staring at the Joseph figure now - bearded, smiling, standing tall. “Only a cameo appearance, Sammy, but pivotal to the plot. Would you have believed her? His family...you think you've got problems. But he took her and the road trip anyway.”
And raised God’s Son as his own. Sam looked down at the tiny cherubic figure that was the focus of the crib - not a care in the world, and no idea of what was to come. Sam could empathize.
Gabriel straightened suddenly, snapping out of his strangely thoughtful mood. Now he looked impatient and bored.
“All done, Sambo?”
No. But Sam nodded reluctantly and tucked his notebook away. He’d copied down all the sigils that they needed. Gabriel would probably pretend that this conversation had never happened. Sam was itching to ask more questions.
But the archangel had turned his back on the crib and was pointedly heading for the exit. Sam lingered, staring at the peaceful painted face that had captured Gabriel's attention so completely. Mother Mary. The Blessed Lady. The frightened child who’d given birth to a messiah and Gabriel was the one who'd given her the news.
Had he visited her again? With or without his Father's permission? Clearly he’d watched her life afterward. Had her suffering affected his decision to run away and turn pagan?
Sam wasn't going to get any answers tonight. Maybe he never would. The archangel was tapping his foot impatiently in the church porch. He'd snapped in a bag of malt balls. His crunching mouthfuls sounded as blasphemous and defiant as firecrackers in the silence. Maybe Gabriel was telling Sam all that he’d ever need to know.
-the end
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Gabriel
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: In a church at Christmas, Sam asks Gabriel about his time as messenger to the Virgin Mary. Gabriel is full of surprises.
Author Note: Title is inspired by the haunting song 'Breath of Heaven' by Amy Grant. Listen to it.
Sam snuck another look at Gabriel. He probably wasn’t going to get a more perfect opportunity than this. He cleared his throat.
“What was she like?”
An unreadable expression flickered across Gabriel’s face. His eyes stayed focused on the kneeling wooden figure that was part of the church’s crib scene. He'd been mesmerized by it since the moment they’d entered the church. It had put him in a strangely quiet mood, reflective, somber even. Maybe that was why he actually answered Sam, instead of retorting with one of his usual quips.
“Young.” His hand almost touched the figure. “Frightened. Funny.”
“Funny?”
“I’d told her she was going to pop out God’s Son without popping her cherry, Sam. Got to have a sense of humor to deal with that.”
Sam dropped all pretense of being casual and openly stared at the archangel, who was still staring at the crib, at the simple and undoubtedly crude representation of what had happened that night. Gabriel snorted.
“She gave birth in blood and shit, Sammy. And she nearly died. After that, she didn't know a day without pain.”
The following silence felt loud, crammed with everything that Gabriel wasn’t saying - that what God had done that night wasn’t just a celebrated miracle, it had also been so very human and as a result, the people He’d chosen for it had suffered for the rest of their lives.
“Was Joseph…..?”
“Tolerant.”
Sam remembered his Bible stories - he'd reread most of them after meeting his first angel. As her fiancé, Joseph had had the right to have her stoned to death for what had happened. Instead he’d married her after a dream….. “Was it you? The angel in his dream?”
Gabriel was staring at the Joseph figure now - bearded, smiling, standing tall. “Only a cameo appearance, Sammy, but pivotal to the plot. Would you have believed her? His family...you think you've got problems. But he took her and the road trip anyway.”
And raised God’s Son as his own. Sam looked down at the tiny cherubic figure that was the focus of the crib - not a care in the world, and no idea of what was to come. Sam could empathize.
Gabriel straightened suddenly, snapping out of his strangely thoughtful mood. Now he looked impatient and bored.
“All done, Sambo?”
No. But Sam nodded reluctantly and tucked his notebook away. He’d copied down all the sigils that they needed. Gabriel would probably pretend that this conversation had never happened. Sam was itching to ask more questions.
But the archangel had turned his back on the crib and was pointedly heading for the exit. Sam lingered, staring at the peaceful painted face that had captured Gabriel's attention so completely. Mother Mary. The Blessed Lady. The frightened child who’d given birth to a messiah and Gabriel was the one who'd given her the news.
Had he visited her again? With or without his Father's permission? Clearly he’d watched her life afterward. Had her suffering affected his decision to run away and turn pagan?
Sam wasn't going to get any answers tonight. Maybe he never would. The archangel was tapping his foot impatiently in the church porch. He'd snapped in a bag of malt balls. His crunching mouthfuls sounded as blasphemous and defiant as firecrackers in the silence. Maybe Gabriel was telling Sam all that he’d ever need to know.
-the end