Blank Pages Part 4

Blank Pages: The War Of Brothers







“Gabriel?” Sam swallowed when his voice came out much more timid than he’d meant it to and tensed in frustration, trying to squish down his fear deep inside him. “Gabriel, what’s going on?”

The archangel glanced at him sympathetically and shook his head, “This will probably suck a lot more to remember than it was to experience the first time around.” He shrugged, “See you in a few, Sammy.”

 Sam blinked when Gabriel vanished as if he’d never been there at all, and shuddered. His eyes went to the sky above again where the darkness continued to seep across it like ink in water. The clouds crackled under his feet and he side-stepped as though that would somehow spare him, though every inch of the puffy surface snapped with electricity. “Gabriel!” He called, unable to keep the panic from his voice, “Shit, what is this? Gabriel! Get back here right now!”

At that point, Sam had to wonder if his words had an effect on the fucked reality he was in, because everything lightened. Green grass exploded out from beneath his feet and the crimson lightning that had woven through the clouds sparked to the surface as towering oaks and willows, maples and palms, fronds and rosebushes. Thousands of plants that never should have co-existed all springing to life around him. Poppies bloomed among the grass and cherry blossoms unfurled from a tree right beside Sam, and he inhaled sharply in mild surprise. “What the-”

 Gabriel must have been wrong. What could be bad about a forest, or wildlife reserve, or whatever it was as beautiful as this? It was like a garden of paradise.

 Sam hissed between his teeth in realization, dread coursing through him. The Garden. If these were Gabriel’s memories, like the angel had said, then this could be only one place that made even a little bit of sense.

 The Garden of Eden.

 Sam practically threw himself on the ground as he heard footsteps tromping through the undergrowth, flattening his large frame as much as he could behind a holly bush, not a second too late. Sam barely withheld a gasp as Lucifer himself walked past just inches away from his nose.

 It was not Lucifer as Sam had last known him, that searing pain of fire and ice eating away at him, body and soul, but rather Lucifer as he would have appeared when he had first possessed Nick. A young man, probably a good ten years younger than Nick had been before he’d let the Devil in, with short dirty blond hair and light eyes. His skin was smooth and unmarked as Sam had never seen it, free of decay and disease from the thing inside him. But it was not Nick, and Sam knew it instantly, if only by the wings protruding from his shoulders.

The feathers were like nothing he’d ever seen, a mix of silvers and pure golds extending up and out as they unfurled from his back, waving every so slightly in the barest breeze that twisted through the trees. Sam marveled at the sight of them, understanding at once why Lucifer had once been known as the most beautiful of all angels.


Lucifer turned, staring in Sam’s direction, and the Hunter held his breath. “Come out, you idiot. I don’t like being followed, if that’s what you think you’re doing. Your sneaking could use some work.” Sam shivered but stayed where he was, praying that Lucifer was speaking to someone of this place, someone of this memory, and not him. He thought he was done with the Devil forever, this was too much.

To his immense relief a small head poked out of the bushes a little to Sam’s left, slick autumn brown hair and honey-gold eyes revealing immediately who he was. He scrambled up to his older brother, dark black feathers trailing along in the flowers and grass behind him as he stumbled through the undergrowth. The child grabbed Lucifer’s hand tight in his own, smiling innocently.

 “Gabriel,” Lucifer chided softly, and Sam was shocked at the gentle tone the fallen angel’s voice.

Wait, if he was in Eden then Lucifer wasn’t fallen, he was still a pure, unsoiled by sin, angel. The thought itself was so weird Sam nearly choked on his spit as it entered his mind. He knew the bible and the stories about the Fall of Lucifer, so of course he knew Lucifer had once been an angel. But seeing it, that was another matter entirely.

 “Gabriel, aren’t you supposed to be with Michael today?” the older angel went on smoothly, interrupting Sam’s thoughts.

 Gabriel stuck out his little pink tongue and clung to the other’s hand defiantly,

“Michael’s no fun,” he whined, and Sam huffed in silent laughter. Some things never changed, even in heaven.

 Lucifer rolled his eyes before he bent down and scooped the much smaller angel up into his arms, “And what makes you think that I’m fun to be around?” he asked reasonably, a small smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

 “Because you’re nice,” Gabriel informed mater-of-factly, “You don’t say things like, ‘Go over there, Gabriel. Stay out of the way, Gabriel. Don’t touch that, Gabriel. Stop running, Gabriel. Stay where I can see you, Gabriel,’” the young archangel folded his arms over his chest as he finished his list, annoyed at the very remembrance of the words.

 A chuckle escaped Lucifer, and Sam’s heart shuddered at the sound of it. It was like the laughter of his nightmares. Here, though, it was real rather than fake and forced, as if there was more than anger and greed behind it. “Michael cares for your well being, Gabriel. He just worries a bit more than most.”

“He’s yucky,” Gabriel muttered. He glanced off somewhere into the deeper reaches of the forest, pointing a finger into the distance, “Let’s go to the Tree, Lucifer! I wanna go see the Tree today!” Lucifer shook his head, but began to walk in that general direction, wings flared out behind him.

After the sound of the archangel’s footsteps began to fade Sam pushed himself to his feet and followed, creeping around between the trees and staying as far in the shadows of them as possible so as not to be seen. He ducked behind a willow and stayed beneath it’s overhanging branches as he watched Lucifer place Gabriel down at the base of the hugest freaking tree Sam had ever seen in his whole life. If a redwood was big, then this was a redwood’s daddy and a half, or more. Gabriel whooped and put his hands against the bark of the thing’s trunk, looking absolutely thrilled. Lucifer put his hands on his sides and laughed, reaching up and grabbing an apple from one of the lower branches and handing it to his brother. Sam held his breath in fear. The apples of Eden were not to be eaten, he knew that for sure.

 He wanted to cry out, to warn Gabriel as the fledgling took the apple from his sibling, but doing so would give him away. And besides, what could he change? This was the past, a memory. Anything that would happen already had. Sam watched, riveted, as Gabriel looked up at Lucifer, as mesmerized as a child staring into the sun, “We don’t eat,” he said evenly, confused.

 “I know,” Lucifer murmured, crouching down so that he was at eye level with the younger angel, “But you’ll love eating this, Gabriel. It’s good, and delicious, and it’s everything angels aren’t supposed to have.”

 The gleam in Gabriel’s eyes was exactly like any child’s would be when told not to do something, and he gulped, staring hard at the ruby red apple before sinking his teeth into it.

 Sam gasped, a hand over his mouth as he did so. There was no change to Gabriel physically as he swallowed the bite of fruit, but when he looked up at his brother again there was a light in his eyes that Sam knew had not been there before.

 The light of real emotion.

The Hunter clenched his fingers at his sides as he fought down the urge to go out there and ask Lucifer what the hell he thought he was doing, to get some sort of explanation. But before he could move a hand went right through his chest to touch the tree trunk Sam was hiding behind. Sam squealed, staring down at the hand in utter horror before it withdrew from his ribs through his back, and he felt no pain. Like the hand of a ghost. He whirled, breath catching in his throat as he came face to face with his younger brother.


 But Adam looked right past him, towards where Gabriel was scarffing down the rest of his apple and Lucifer was watching him with appreciation in his eyes. Sam stared at him and took in the sight of the sibling he thought he’d never see again, short golden brown hair and sea-glass eyes. He wanted to apologize. For being a terrible brother, for pulling him to his death into Hell. Adam only gazed right through him, brushing aside the overhanging willow leaves as he paced out into the sunlight that dappled the Tree and the two angel’s beneath it.

 And as he walked away Sam noticed his wings, long platinum feathers with ebony tips brushing the ground. He let a breath escape him, shoulders slumping. It wasn’t Adam, it was Michael.

 Lucifer’s head jerked up as the oldest archangel approached, and Sam thought for sure that he would look scared, or ashamed at what he’d done to Gabriel. Except that Lucifer smiled, and Michael smiled back.

“Don’t you think he’s a bit young?” Michael asked, as he came to stand beside Lucifer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

 Lucifer shook his head, “The younger he is, the more it will work. Emotion is a beautiful thing, brother.”

 Michael raised an eyebrow, “And yet you don’t care for our Father’s grandest creation. They’re the ones these apples were made for, Lucifer. Not angels.”

 Hissing out between his teeth, Lucifer spoke, “Angels were made first, angels are children of God, not those . . . Things down there.” He snatched another apple off the branches and bit into it, hard. “These should have been for us all along, not them. Us.” Gabriel looked between his brothers, oblivious to the argument boiling under the surface. Michael just frowned, turning away. As he walked past Sam, the Hunter’s eyes followed him, watching the angel in the visage of his little brother while the world around him changed.

 The Tree sunk back into the ground, and the bushes skittered around to different positions in the forest, the trees shuffling until the scenery was vaguely different. Sam froze, realizing that Michael had vanished into the trees, and he all but cursed.

 And then he did, when an older version of Gabriel pushed past him. The archangel barely cast him a glance, but unlike Michael he actually touched him when he shoved past, a hand pausing on Sam’s shoulder as he did so. He was not either of the Gabriels Sam was familiar with, neither the fledgling nor the man. If Sam had to label him, it would be an adolescent, a teenager if he must.

 Sam followed him, keeping a good ten feet away until Gabriel stomped to the edge of a clearing, putting his back flat against a broad tree and peering around the edge of it. The Hunter jumped behind an oak nearby, though he was pretty sure no one but Gabriel could even see him.

In the clearing ahead voices rang out loud and clear, and Sam wondered if that was because Gabriel remembered every word, or simply because of how the Garden carried sound. Glancing into the open space, Sam stiffened at what he saw.

 Lucifer stood in the center, flocked on each side by what appeared to be to angels, speaking to the in a low voice. Sam barely noted the two sets of ash gray wings on the pair’s backs, and he narrowed his eyes at their persons instead. To Lucifer’s right stood Crowley, clad in the same ivory robes all the other angels seemed to be wearing around there. His eyes were a poison yellow, and he tilted his head to the side as Lucifer spoke, listening intently. He was much younger than Sam remembered, mid twenties or so he guessed, and he stood tall and proud in a way that outmatched the Crowley he was familiar with, if that was even possible. To Lucifer’s left, was none other than Azazel, and Sam shuddered bodily at the sight. His eyes and wings were the same color as Crowley’s, and when Sam took a moment to think about it he could come to no other conclusion that they were not only angels at the moment, but brothers as well. Not the way all angels were brothers, but the way the Winchester boys were brothers. In blood and bond.

Gabriel’s chest was heaving as he listened to the words Sam hadn’t been paying even the slightest attention to, and he gritted his teeth, going back the way he had come through the forest. Sam felt the longing to linger here, to figure out why Azazel and Crowley were in Heaven, but as Gabriel moved Sam was tugged along as if he was following on nothing but instinct. The young archangel crashed through the undergrowth like wanted Lucifer to know he’d been listening in, spying on him, but he didn’t seem to care, and he stopped only when he drew up in front of a low building. Sam stared at the thing, taking in the white marble columns and granite base, marveling at it’s structure before he hurried along in Gabriel’s wake, the angel already halfway up the steps to the door.

 Inside he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Michael. The eldest archangel was standing near one wall and gazing out a window that was simply a square hole it’s surface and leaning heavily against it. He still bore Adam’s image as Sam had last seen him, maybe because he could never imagined his brother to be any older than he had been when he’d died. Michael barely looked up when Gabriel stormed in. “Yes, Gabriel, what is it?”

 Gabriel paused, taken aback at his sibling’s calm tone, “What’s- are you kidding me? Haven’t you noticed what Lucifer’s doing?!”

 “He’s speaking with Azazel and Caphriel,” Michael said simply, not alarmed by this in the slightest, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Gabriel.”

 The younger seethed, face turning red, “But he’s talking of war, brother! They’re discussing a rebellion, tactics and plans!”

 Michael’s eyebrows furrowed together, his wings shifting uncomfortably against his back, “Why would you say such a thing, Gabriel? Lucifer loves his brothers and our Father, he would never-”

 “But he does not love Humanity!” Gabriel snapped, hands fisting at his sides, his knuckles white. “He does not obey the Last Order, and you know it! What if-”

Michael moved to stand before his brother, placing a finger against his mouth commandingly, “Do not speak of your brother like that.”


 “I will hear no more of it. He is our brother, my brother, and I have faith in him no matter what he does,” Michael went on. “And I know he does not what you say he does, at the very least. Do not lie, Gabriel.”

 “I’m not-”

 “Do. Not. Lie.”

 Sam swallowed thickly, looking away. Michael’s conviction that his brother could do no wrong was so much like Dean, it hurt. And just like Lucifer, Sam had betrayed his brother. It was as perfect of a match as Gabriel had once described it in TV Land. Too perfect, even.

 Gabriel wilted, his wings brushing against the ground as he averted his eyes from his brother, not knowing what else to do.

The world seemed to tilt once again and the sky opened up outside, rain cascading down against the roof of the building. Sam bit his lip as he noticed that the room was suddenly vacant, the stone it was made of cracked and chipped where it had been unmarked and pristine before.

 Thunder boomed, and Sam rushed outside, eager and terrified to see the greatest war history had ever known unfold. There was nothing else it could be. Outside the garden was gone, smoking ashes of trees that had once stood where it would be. On the horizon Sam could still see the Tree, it’s leaves burning as flames erupted into the sky, undeterred by the rain that cascaded down. Above, what Sam had first thought had been lightning flashing across the sky he now realized was angels, the sparks of metal against metal lighting up the clouds as swords clashed, blue streaking through the rain as Grace exploded out from the dying. Sam put his hands to his mouth and sucked in a shaking breath.

 Far above, Crowley went tumbling through the clouds, crashing to the ground and then passing right through it, closely followed by Azazel while a blond angel with sky colored wings stabbed his blade into the soil, letting out a triumphant cry. “Cast them down!” he called to his brothers high above, “Throw the traitors to Hell!” The sound was repeated through the garrisons, and Sam saw Gabriel lift his sword in reluctant agreement as he yelled it back. He still looked so young. The blond angel on the ground tilted his head up into the rain, gazing towards the war waging overhead with his mouth half open, eyes wide.

 Sam followed his gaze, catching sight of Michael blazing through the clouds, sword aloft. Lucifer crashed into him head on, appearing out of nowhere to meet his brother in battle. Sam sat down hard on the ground, watching as they locked swords over and over, metal clanging through the noise of the storm. And the world stood still, every other angel halting what they were doing to watch the fight in rapt awe, including Gabriel. Lucifer lunged with his free hand, grabbing a fistful of Michael’s feathers and smirking as his brother shrieked as he ripped them out, plunging his sword into Michael’s shoulder while he was distracted.

 There was no blood, only the sapphire bleed of Grace as Michael clutched at his arm, gasping in shock and pain. “You . . . Don’t know what it is you do, brother” he whispered, though the sound was loud enough for all the brethren and Sam to hear.

 “Yes, I do,” Lucifer all but snarled in his brother’s face in reply.

 “Then that is all the worse,” Michael murmured, grabbing his brother’s shoulder. For all the world it looked like an embrace as he pulled the Devil to him, until his sword was protruding from Lucifer’s back.

 Unlike the rest of the angels, his Grace did not leave him as his body was pierced, and Sam inhaled sharply as Michael pulled away, watching coldly as Lucifer simply fell, all the way to the ground just as Crowley and Azazel had, and then right through it.

 “Never return,” Michael screamed after him, and Sam sobbed, watching as Lucifer was banished the same way he had been when he had walked out on Dean.

He really was the perfect vessel.


 And then everything stopped. The angels halted mid flight, the noise vanished, and the rain froze where it was falling. Sam could reach out and touch the individual droplets if he chose to. “I told you it wasn’t pretty,” a voice said softly near his ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he twisted his head around to stare up at Gabriel. He was dressed in twenty first century clothes again, hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels.

 Sam shook his head, “And that’s just the start of it, isn’t it,” he whispered.

 “Just the tip of the iceberg, bucko,” Gabriel sighed.


Blank Pages Part 3

Blank Pages: Wings On A Cloud






Dean was entirely unused to a life that revolved around something even remotely similar to a typical family. Sure, he’d lived with Lisa and Ben for almost a whole year, but that wasn’t what he’d call family. It was simply playing the part; going to the baseball games and the barbeques and reading the kid a bedtime story when Lisa was working late. It had all been for a promise he made on his baby brother’s dying day. Making a promise was not the same as having an actual emotion for the situation.

With what he had now though, Dean couldn’t help but realize that he had that family he’d always wanted now. Not with Lisa and Ben, but with Sam, Cass, and Gabriel. Even when on the road, shifting between dingy motels, they were somehow home.

The morning after their visit with Missouri started out as many mornings had in the last month or so. Dean was the first awake, sitting up with a hand to his forehead and smacking his lips to try and dispel cottony taste from his mouth. He glanced over at the other queen bed, a smirk crossing at the sight of Sam curled around the miniature archangel. Gabriel lay on his stomach, his much-too-big shirt riding up almost to his shoulders so that the tattoos across his back were bathed in the glow of early light sneaking in underneath the tightly closed curtains. Dean twisted his head to the other side, groaning as his neck cracked. He stopped dead where he was then, breath halting in his throat.

Castiel was sitting on the other side of his bed his profile to him and his chin to the rising sun peeking through the curtains. He glanced at Dean when he caught the Hunter’s eyes on him and raised an eyebrow, “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean pounded a fist to his chest as if trying to restart his heart, “ ‘Good morning?’” he repeated, “You scared the life outa’ me, Cass! How long have you been sitting there? I thought you went to go do . . .” He waved his hand vaguely in the air, “Angel stuff?”

The angel in question cast him a patient look at the remark, “I came back, Dean.”

The Hunter stared at him for a long moment, mouth half open. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t understood the blatant metaphor for events not that long past, but it was a whole other thing to admit that. Dean rolled his eyes, “I know you did. Anyways, wanna flip a coin for who’s getting breakfast?”

Castiel shook his head, smirking slightly, “I’ll go pick up donuts,” he decided as he stood and began smoothing down the wrinkles of his trench coat with his hands, pretending not to notice as Dean watched, “Chocolate cream filled for you, I presume?”

“You know me so well,” Dean grinned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed reaching over to give Castiel a light punch in the stomach, a motion which the angel merely frowned at. The Hunter chuckled, “What’s that face for?”

Straightening his collar so that he looked somewhat presentable to the outside world, Castiel muttered a short, “Your means of showing affection seem to be a little off,” before looking sharply at the wall as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Dean blinked owlishly at him, rising to his feet and stretching his hands over his head. “What did you expect?” he asked before he lowered his hands to his hips, trying his best not to look like a total girl as he did so. Castiel shrugged, his gaze trained on the wall and Dean’s heart went to his throat with guilt. He grabbed the collar of the angel’s trench coat that the other had just fixed and dragged him forward. Castiel started as the Hunter kissed him hard, eyes widening in surprise.

The angel’s hands went to the back of Dean’s neck, pressing into the ridge of the Hunter’s spine. He breathed out as Dean pulled back, a smug smile on the human’s face though his green eyes glinted with faint uncertainty Castiel barely caught. “Better?” he asked, tongue drawing across his lips.

“Dean-” the angel started, but the other had turned away to stride across the room with a call over his shoulders of, “You gonna get those donuts or what?” And Castiel disappeared in a whirl of displaced air and the near silent sound of ruffled feathers.

“That went awesome,” Sam said drowsily, startling Dean as he raised his head from his pillow, threading his fingers through the still sleeping Gabriel’s hair.

Dean glared at him, though Sam took no notice, eyes closed and his face buried in the mattress. “What was that supposed to mean?”

Sam opened an eye, “You ask too many questions for someone who has everything he’s ever going to need right in front of him.” He choked back a yawn, “Anyways, before he wakes up help me get Gabe into the bath, he still smells like that crud Missouri put on him last night.”

Dean felt the protest die on the tip of his tongue as Gabriel jumped up suddenly like the blankets were on fire and launched himself across the room in less than two seconds flat. Sam yelled something, and Dean dived after him, catching the fledgling by the ankle before he could reach the other bed to hide beneath it. “Whoa there Clarence, calm down,” he laughed, throwing the struggling angel over his shoulder.

“No!” Gabriel wailed, “No baff! No baff!”

“Stinky children need baths,” Sam chided as he took Gabriel from his brother and marched into the bathroom before any more protests could escape the angel. The younger Winchester closed the door while Gabriel screeched like the possessed. Dean sat at the table and a pad of motel sticky notes to begin making a list of things they’d need to get through the week.


Though his hair was still damp and his lower lip was stuck out, Gabriel seemed to be mildly content with a donut stuffed in his mouth when he sat in the seat of the shopping cart, swinging his legs back and forth while Dean pushed it down the isles and Sam strolled along beside it, hands in his pockets.

Castiel approached with two different types of Doritos in hand for Dean to compare before tossing one into the body of the cart on the Hunter’s direction.

That’s when Dean had the not so shocking realization that he’d turned into a total housewife, and he dropped his head into his hands. Sam patted his back, “Dean? You okay?” Dean shook his head.

“My life is just so weird, man,” he mumbled. The Hunter tensed slightly when Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

Sam huffed, “Well of course it is. Do you remember what we do for a living?”

His brother looked up at him, his eyes narrowing, “No, Sam, I don’t remember that we run around fighting monsters at night and crash in gross motels during the day while angels flit around the room and . . .” He blinked once, twice, as his gaze shifted over the far end of the cart for a heartbeat, “ . . . And pagan gods like to shop at Safeway.”

Instantly, before they’d even turned around, Castiel had his angel blade in hand and Sam had scooped Gabriel out of the basket of the grocery cart, the little archangel against his chest. Dean just chose to stare, raising a bored hand, “Hello, Kali, what brings you here?”

“Dean-” Castiel started warily, but stood his ground as Kali took a few steps forward, keeping her distance all the same.

Among all the goddesses (and Dean had met a good handful in his years as a Hunter) she was by far the most beautiful. Kali was dressed in a slim, but not unprofessional navy blue dress that stopped just above her knees where she held her shopping basket in front of her legs almost as if she had something to hide, Dean knew better. Her hair was tied back into a loose bun, stray strands falling over her ears here and there as she stood rigidly still only feet away, though Dean surmised that she really shouldn’t be the terrified one in the situation. The older Winchester tapped the handle of the cart, “Any reason in particular why you’re here?” he questioned, ignoring Castiel’s tense stance and Sam’s protective embrace over the child Gabriel.

Kali tilted her head to the side choosing to continue study them at a distance, “Is it wrong to want to repay a debt?”

“A little late, isn’t it?” Sam asked, teeth bared.

Dean smirked and shook his head, “The middle of the grocery store isn’t a great place for such a thing, is it?”

The goddess scowled, “It’s better than the alternatives. I’d rather not show up at your dirty motel like some sort of call girl, thank you.” Her eyes blazed, and Dean’s self preservation instinct finally kicked in and he let his hand fall to his waist where his knife lay strapped to his belt. “And,” she went on haughtily, “being seen with you outside isn’t safe.”

“Safe?” Castiel echoed as his fingers clenched around his blade , “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kali barely cast him a glance, “Learn to keep track of your siblings better, Angel, and maybe you’ll understand.” She turned to Dean again when Castiel stiffened, “I want to return something to you.”

The Hunter held out a hand, “Go on ahead and then get the hell out of here.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “I am a goddess of sacrifice, Winchester. You will not give me orders.” Kali smirked when Castiel shifted to stand in front of Dean, “And neither will you, Angel.” She breathed, eyes landing on Sam, and then Gabriel in turn. “You, Demon Spawn,” she ignored Dean’s annoyed grunt at the name, “What would you do to save that child?”

Sam blinked, taken aback, “Gabriel?”

“What would you do to save his life?” she repeated, patience wavering at his redundancy.

Gabriel buried his face in Sam’s shirt and shivered at her tone. Sam placed a hand on his back comfortingly, “Anything,” he whispered, much to Dean’s surprise.

“Sammy, wait-”

Kali looked mildly amused before holding up a hand until Dean fell silent, “Anything? Are you sure?”

"Yes,” Sam insisted, his gaze so serious Dean’s heart went to his throat.

“Then there is no turning back,” she murmured. Kali reached into her handbag and drew out a small vial filled with crimson, the glass flashing in the too bright store lights. Before anyone could move the goddess had thrown it to the ground. Letter-like characters from some distant language scrawled their way across the floor, twisting in the blood until a circle had formed.

सुधार और आना-जाना, चाल से घटकर अतीत के रास्ते पर आपके चुने हुए अपने पख्र में किया जाना चाहिए और आनंदन्

Gabriel screamed, his nails digging into Sam’s shoulder before he was simply no longer there. Sam shouted in alarm and groped at the empty air. Kali watched a heartbeat before gesturing towards the circle, “You said ‘Anything’, Vessel.” She said darkly, “Now you have but only one choice. You’ve always had but one choice.”

“Sammy, don’t!” Dean yelled, held back by Castiel grabbing his wrist before he could intercept his brother.

Castiel straightened, keeping his grip on Dean as he rested his gaze on Sam, “Only go forward if you really care, Sam Winchester,” he warned, his own blue eyes making contact with Kali’s red for a brief moment, “Gabriel will not accept your pity."

Sam swallowed and nodded shortly before he stepped into the circle of blood, and Dean held his breath as the aisle erupted in light, and his brother vanished. He snarled, whirling on Castiel so fast the angel started and released the Hunter so that Dean could lunge at Kali across the shopping cart. The Hunter fisted a hand into the front of her dress, “What did you do?!

“I am simply paying back a debt,” she smiled nonchalantly. He howled, fingers inching up towards her throat though he knew it would do no good. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back while Kali disappeared in a puff of smoke the instant his grip disappeared.

“I’m going to kill her!” Dean screeched, grabbing uselessly at the air, “I’m going to destroy her! What has she done to them?!” he writhed until he faced Castiel, the angel’s hands still on his shoulders, “Let me go, Cass,” he growled, breath coming in short panicked gasps.

Castiel frowned, “You are in no state to go anywhere, Dean. And besides that, Sam has made his decision.”

“He makes stupid decisions!” Dean protested.

“He is a grown man!” Castiel snapped in return. the Hunter grew silent in shock at his tone. “Good decisions, or bad ones, he has the right to them all the same, Dean. Let him choose, for once in his life.”

Dean hissed between his teeth, “The last time I did, he walked away from me with a demon bitch at his side.”

Castiel inhaled, “That . . .” His fingers loosened on Dean’s shoulders, and the Hunter stepped away, chest heaving.

“What, Cass?” he demanded, viridian eyes suddenly dark.

Castiel focused his gaze on the ground between his feet, “That was not Sam’s fault, Dean.”

“And whose was it?” Dean asked, voice low and accusing, “You, Cass? Don’t act so innocent,” he growled at the astonished blink the angel cast him, “Or surprised!” he added, “As if I couldn’t have guessed! I knew all along, you lying bastard! Which is just one more reason I can’t let Sammy wander off by himself when you’re the one holding me back! Again!”


“Hiding things is the same thing as lying, Castiel,” the angel flinched at his full name on Dean’s lips, “And I’m a little more than tired by now of you keeping secrets. Just because you don’t tell me things doesn’t mean they’ll hurt any less.” He whirled and stomped down the aisle, leaving his groceries, and his angel, to their own devices.


When Castiel popped into the motel room an hour or so later after giving Dean time to cool off a bit, he found the Hunter in the midst of tearing up the room while practically screaming into the phone. The bed sheets were strewn across the expanse and every item in all the duffle bags had been spread out on the mattresses of the two queen beds. Papers were still drifting across the carpet, and a half eaten bag of chips had been knocked off the table. Dean had his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he rummaged around in drawer besides Sam’s bed for his brother’s laptop, lips pursed as he listened to the person on the other side of the line.

“No, Bobby,” he hissed, Castiel straining to listen from across the room once he knew who it was Dean had called, “You don’t understand. Sam was,” he waved his hands, though Bobby obviously couldn’t see what he was doing, “sucked away. Like ‘Pop!’ and he was gone. Gabe too.” He glanced up, taking note of Cass’ presence in the room before he tugged the laptop ungraciously from the drawer and tossed it on the bed. “Yes, I know you’re on the road and can’t- I know! Look, I don’t care if some angel with a vengeance kink is on my ass, it’s not like it’s never happened before.”

At this Castiel grabbed the phone from Dean and whipped back across the room before the Hunter could protest. “Bobby, what’s going on?”

There was a scuffling sound on the other end of the line and suddenly Crowley’s voice came over the wire, loud and annoyed, “Aziraphale’s dead, Castiel.”

Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly in response, “W-what?”

Dean paused in his movement of trying to grab the phone back from the angel, mouth half open at the sound of Castiel’s stutter. “Cass?”

He ignored the other, “What happened?”

Crowley growled, “How the fuck should I know?! I just know that he’s not here anymore, not alive. His Grace has been shattered and I can feel it.”

“Only an angel could have done it,” Castiel surmised darkly, his fingers clenching against his trench coat. He suddenly felt way too hot. Aziraphale had been his second in command, someone he trusted and looked to for advice, one of Gabriel’s oldest friends and Crowley’s . . . Something. Cass actually had to admit that the times Aziraphale spent with Crowley on earth he sort of ignored and didn’t ask questions about. Even when events had gotten a bit fishy and dark-omen-like in the 90’s.

“Don’t say that as if I know which one,” Crowley snapped, clearly pissed. “I haven’t been in Heaven for eons. Look, angel-boy, just hold down the fort until we get there and keep Dean out of trouble. Bobby will have your neck if he charges out willy-nilly like a right wanker. Sam and Gabriel will be fine.” And the line clicked.

Staring at the phone for a moment, Castiel looked up at Dean and blinked once, twice, “Crowley says Gabriel and Sam will be fine,” he whispered, shock still coursing through his body at the demon’s news.

“Yeah, he said that to me too,” Dean snorted. He grabbed the front of Cass’ coat and tugging him down onto the mattress, “You, on the other hand, are in a perpetual state of shock.”

“What’s that?”

“That angel that died, you knew him. Just . . .” Dean patted the bed and stood, “Sit here for a bit, and I’ll pour you a drink. Or three,” he added with a glance at Castiel’s face.

Castiel nodded silently and shed his coat and before lying back as he’d often seen Dean do when times were rough and uncertain. He pushed his palms into his eyes as he closed them, sighing heavily until he felt a cold glass rest against his stomach. He huffed, “Dean . . .”

“Drink it,” Dean instructed, a hand falling to Castiel’s forehead to push back his hair.

The angel inhaled, grabbing the glass and bringing it to his lips. He downed it in one long gulp that had even Dean clapping, impressed.

“Another!” Dean declared before pouring himself a glass as well.

And while drinking didn’t change anything, it definitely helped him forget that everything had gone to hell in ten seconds flat all over again. At least for an hour or so.


When Sam stepped into the circle of blood and Hindu scribbles he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting. Hell, maybe? He didn’t know where angel’s went when they died, so it was at least slightly probable. Heaven, perhaps? He thought of the place he’d had in Flagstaff, and the first real Thanksgiving he’d ever been a part of.

But what he got was endless white puffy clouds against a blue sky clearer than anything he’d ever seen. And he was standing on them. If he gave it a moment’s pause he supposed that this could be the real Heaven, though he highly doubted it. It seemed too pristine and perfect, contrasting against the 99.9% of the angels he’d ever met.

“It’s Heaven as a child would see it,” a voice said, cutting into his thoughts. Though Sam recognized it immediately without even turning to see the speaker’s face, the tone didn’t fit.

Gabriel had his arms crossed over his chest where he stood behind the Hunter, and Sam gaped at him. The archangel was no longer the child who’d been running around the various motel’s they’d stayed at the past few weeks, and with his chin tilted up he stood in all of the full archangel glory as Sam had last seen him before he died. “You’re okay,” Sam whispered, awed.

Gabriel frowned, “If you call being completely incorporeal and trapped within my own mind ‘okay,’ then yes. I am.” He shrugged, though the motion was stiff and uncomfortable, “I didn’t expect to see you here, kiddo.”

Sam blinked at him, “Why not? I’ve been taking care of you - the fledgling you - for the past month or so. I found you. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I didn’t choose you,” Gabriel muttered, glancing at the clouds beneath his feet, gaze wary as though he half expected them to disappear.

“Choose me?” Sam echoed.

“Yes, choose you, moron,” the Trickster huffed. He unfolded his arms and gestyred to the white and blue landscape around them, “Kali preformed a blood binding, didn’t she? As the process goes, in a few minutes you and me will be taking a long walk through the highlights of my life. And by highlights I mean the epic failures and pitfalls.”

Sam breathed in slowly, “So what?”

“So-” Gabriel laughed, the sound harsh and forced, “So what? It’s my life, Sam! If I had to show it to anyone it certainly wouldn’t be you.”

The Hunter made an offended noise, taken aback, “And why not? If anyone has a reason not to trust the other it should be me, not you.”

Gabriel stuck out his tongue in response, “That’s not what I meant, sasquatch. I meant . . .” His hands went to his pockets and he stared down between his feet again, “I just meant that I don’t want you to be the one to see this side of me, all right? It’s not going to be pretty, and it’s certainly not going to be pleasant.” He sighed before looking up at the sky then, “I’ve lived a long, long time, Sam. And in a life like that, there’s bound to be more poop than roses on the path.”

Sam laughed, “Nice metaphor. But I think I can handle it.”

The archangel merely bit his lip before everything went dark across the sky almost as if someone had drawn curtains over the sun. Flashes of blood red lanced through the clouds below their feet, sparking like lightning, “I don’t think you can,” Gabriel whispered.


Blank Pages Part 2

Blank Pages: Angel Of Prophecy






Missouri Mosley went about her days post Failed-Apocalypse like she had the days before it with little change. It wasn’t as though she’d been oblivious to the events that had gone on in the outside world, far from it, she had simply chosen not to do anything about it. There wasn’t much she could have done in the first place, really. She kept track of the weather patterns and demonic activity nationwide, as she’d always done, watching the news with baited breath as a storm like none she’d ever seen whipped up over Chicago one dreary afternoon, knowing it was because of the Winchester boys that it subsided as though it had never been there at all. It was hard to miss the brief ruckus in Detroit as well, the tiny pool of demonic energy that suddenly faded away after lingering for weeks and weeks.

 She knew, instinctively, that Sam had said yes that day, and had sent any customers that called in the next twenty four hours home, urging them to stay with their families and tell their precious people how loved they were if they hadn’t in awhile.

 Because while she was psychic, she was no prophet.

 It was of little surprise to her when she felt the two archangels touch down only a few miles from her, and she clasped her hands together and prayed to a God she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in, waiting and pleading for a miracle even as she felt Dean’s soul shudder with guilt and a sense of the end when he set foot amidst the graves between his brothers.

 What happened then was far from a miracle, but when she thought back she knew that it was the exact destiny that was planned all along, painful and heart wrenching as it was.

 After that she had gone about her business as usual, giving false reassurances to customers who wanted good news, and revealing reality to those who begged nothing but the truth. Missouri had seen a handful of Hunters come and go in her day, but every time she sensed the strong steadfast heart of one approaching, she couldn’t help but look out her window and hope it was those boys or John.

 Of course, it never was.

 It wasn’t hard to miss the Impala’s low, guttural rumble the second it rolled into town however, and Missouri muttered a speedy, “Yes, the baby is yours,” lie before shooing Mr. Wilkins out onto the walk, closing the door and waiting.

 And when one was expecting the Winchesters, there was never too long a wait. She smiled to herself as the sleek black car rolled up in front of her house, barely in park before Dean swung himself out of the driver’s side. He darted around to the passenger door and swung it open with a grin on his face, green eyes dancing as a dark haired man in a trench coat climbed out, folding his arms over the frame of the car door as he murmured something to the Hunter.

 Missouri shook her head, now this was new.

 Sam uncurled from the backseat, stretching out his limbs that were no doubt cramped from the long ride before he reached back inside, grabbing something and hauling it out. Or rather, someone. Missouri chuckled to herself as the small child latched onto the open car door before he could be dragged into the open, letting out a terrible screech, the sound intensified as the psychic opened the window she’d been standing at to hear the conversation that had picked up.

 “Come on,” Sam pleaded, “We’re just going to go inside and have an old friend take a look at you, there’s nothing to be scared of.” The child shook his head furiously, his fingers curled tight around the door to the Impala while Sam tried to drag him out of the car.

 “No!” he squealed when Dean moved to pry his fingers from the door, “It’s scary in there! Scary!” At this point Dean had managed to release his fingers and he screamed bloody murder, flailing in Sam’s arms with a wail of, “Tass! Save me!” before the man with the trench coat intervened and scooped the boy up and tucking him against his shoulder with a disapproving look at the brothers.

 “What?” Dean said innocently, a motion mimicked by his brother, “Don’t look at me like that, Cass, now I feel like I was abusing the kid.” The boy stuck his tongue out at Dean before pressing his face into the dark haired man’s shoulder again, who in turn smirked at Dean, a new expression that made the Hunter take a step back, mouth hanging open.

 “Come on,” the man said evenly before leading the way towards the house, the Hunter trailing behind.

 “Good old Lawrence Kansas,” Dean muttered, watching with mild satisfaction as the child twisted in the other man’s arms, noticing that despite his earlier thoughts that his brother was a place of safety, he was still headed for the house. He screeched, struggling in the man’s grip as though his life depended on it.

 “No! Let me go Tass! I don’t wanna!”

 Missouri decided that now would be a perfect time to make herself known, and pushed the door open, “Well well, it seems like you’ve finally made some friends, Dean,” she smiled, hands on her hips. Behind his brother, Sam snorted into his hands with amusement.

 Dean opened his mouth, but the man beside him held out his hand before he could speak, “I am pleased to meet another friend of Dean’s,” he said, “He’s spoken of you before. My name is Castiel.”

 She shook his hand readily, casting an eye at Dean at the same time, “Polite friends. Goodness me, what did you ever do to deserve this one’s affections?” Dean’s cheeks grew decidedly pink, and he stared at his feet. Turning her gaze back to Castiel she hummed, “Well, it’s good to finally meet you as well, Castiel. Come in, come in,” she pointed a finger at Sam before he could step inside, “Wipe your shoes, sweetie, you have some mud on the left one.”

 Herding the group inside, she bustled them into her living room. Dean plopped down on the couch, eyeing the coffee table warily and earning a glare from Missouri before he grabbed the end of Castiel’s trench coat, tugging the angel down beside him with a frown. Castiel passed the squirming child to Sam when he approached, who took out a large candy bar from his pocket and handed it to the golden eyed boy who immediately quieted and began eating. Dean hissed something about unhealthy habits, and Sam snapped back that it was no worse than a straight diet of burgers, beer, and pie.

 “Settle down, settle down,” Missouri tutted, bringing over a steaming pot of tea as she sat on the sofa opposite, watching as Sam made grabby hands for it and poured himself a cup. “Now before we start, I think I’m owed an apology, correct?” she said over the rim of her own teacup, narrowing her eyes. Dean blinked at her, confused.

 “Uh, what?”

 She glanced at Castiel, “Cuff him over the head for me would you, hun.”

 Castiel did so. Dean put a hand to the lump forming and scowled, “Ow! Cass, why are you listening to her?” The angel rolled his eyes, another new human motion that made Dean stare, before he hooked an arm around Dean’s shoulders and pulled the Hunter to him, kissing the place on the top of his head he’d smacked only seconds before.

 “Because you’re an idiot,” he explained evenly, ignoring Dean’s embarrassed sputter of protest at the affection before the other noticed that the dull throb of the bump was gone once the angel touched him. “She’s upset that after six years, the only reason you’re visiting is because you need her help again.”

 Sam seemed to get the hint first, and looked away, ashamed, “Sorry, Missouri.” The sentiment was repeated by Dean when Castiel glared at him. “We didn’t think-” the younger brother went on.

 “No you didn’t,” Missouri cut in, taking a long sip of her tea and setting it down, adding a cube of sugar. “You didn’t think that there might be other people out there who were worried about you two boys all this time.”

 Dean scowled, folding his hands on his knees, “We were kinda busy,” he muttered.

 “Busy is just a code word for, ‘I don’t want to get attached,’ for you boys. Please do remember that I can see through your poor excuses,” Missouri chided. She directed her attention at Sam again, “And don’t make faces at me behind my back, boy,” she added with a smirk as Dean went rigidly still behind her, his tongue still hanging out between his lips. Castiel rolled his eyes. “Now Sam, what have we here?” Missouri smiled, gesturing at the small boy balanced on the Hunter’s knees.

 Sam situated the child in his lap, taking out a napkin from his pocket and wiping chocolate from the boy’s cheek absently as he spoke. “Well, we’re in a bit of a mess, Missouri. And we weren’t too sure where to go from here.”

 “And with your personal prophet missing, you decided to come to me,” she surmised.

 “We haven’t really seen Chuck since the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t,” Dean explained. “Except for the one time he contacted us last month. But it was some sort of fluke, because he’s still missing.”

 “Maybe he simply doesn’t want to be found,” Missouri said simply, putting her teacup down on its saucer before looking at Sam once more “So this mess you’re in, it has to do with the child?”

 In Sam’s lap, the boy stilled, eyes fixed on the psychic, “Yeah, for the most part,” Sam replied. “Missouri, meet Gabriel, the archangel.” Gabriel pressed his face into Sam’s shirt, not meeting her eyes.

 Missouri laughed, “An archangel, huh? I should have guessed, his power is much fiercer than Castiel’s from what I could feel.”

 Dean raised an eyebrow, “You knew Cass was an angel?”

 “Of course, dear,” Missouri huffed, “What do you take me for? Only a complete idiot wouldn’t have known. I recognized his presence immediately when he entered here.”

 “Recognized-” Dean started only to be silenced when Castiel clamped a hand over his mouth.

 “It’s of little import,” the angle said in his gravelly voice, “I have a question for you, Ms. Mosley.”

 “Fire away,” she smiled.

 Castiel nodded, clearly grateful for the chance to speak freely, “Before we can begin searching for a way to undo the curse on this child, we need to be able to hide him better than we have been. You see, his wings . . .” As if on cue Gabriel lifted up his arms, Sam drawing off the large hoodie he’d been wearing so that the pair of dark feathered wings could unfurl from his shoulder blades, extending out and flapping once.

 “I do see,” Missouri said, awed, “He certainly can’t walk around like that in public, now can he.”

 “It is a bit of a pain,” Dean admitted, chin resting in his hands now. Gabriel squirmed and Sam let him go, watching as the fledgling bounced down from his lap to examine the candy bowl sitting on the end coffee table. “Which is why we need a solution,” the Hunter went on, “ And Sammy, don’t let the kid eat the whole bowl,” he added, casting a glare at the little archangel as Gabriel shoved a hand into the midst of the chocolates. Dean snorted and turned his attention back to Missouri, “Anyways, if we’re going cross country to look for a way to undo whatever Lucifer did to him, we can’t keep Sam holed up in the motel with him all day. We’d never get anything done.”

 “Sam is the brains of the pair of you,” Missouri smiled. Dean scowled at her in return. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

 Castiel nodded thankfully to her, “Also, before his wings became corporal, Dean tells me he had markings on his back, tattoos, in the shape of his wings. Is that-”

 “A binding seal,” Missouri confirmed, “Yes, I can definitely help you then. Let me go get some things,” She stood, smoothing out the edges and newly formed wrinkles on her dress, “Come with me, Castiel. You can help me carry some things while I bounce a few ideas off of you.”

 Dean watched them go before he stood as well and walked over to where Gabriel was digging around in the candy jar. “No more for you, young man,” the Hunter chided, scooping the fledgling up and tucking him under one arm like a sack of potatoes all the while ignoring Gabriel’s exasperated whine. “No matter what Sam says, you’ve had enough sweets today for five kids. Believe it or not, there is such a thing as too much.”

 “If only you could hear yourself talk,” Sam grinned as he stretched and reached over to punch his brother lightly in the arm, “And then listen to your own advise.”

 “I’m a model citizen,” sniffed Dean before he paused and moved Gabriel to his shoulders, wincing slightly as the archangel fisted his tiny hands into short cropped hair for support. “I am the image of perfection.”

 Sam grunted in false agreement, “If you say so. I’d hate to see a world where you’re the ideal.”

 “You’re lookin’ at it,” Dean smirked.


 In the kitchen, Castiel examined the jars passed to him from Missouri’s cabinet, fascinated, “I’ve never seen some of these things before.”

 “Neither have those boys, I’m sure,” Missouri agreed. “It’s just some basic ingredients for a salve that will replace a seal. Considering the one in question is an archangel’s work and most likely planned for such a situation, it shouldn’t be too terribly hard to reseal it.” She held up two jars to the light, narrowing her eyes at the contents, “I wish I could see the original tattoos though, or something similar. I can’t be sure whether to use the elder flowers, or the berries.” She chose the jar in her right hand, passing it to the angel. “So, now that Dean’s not here, you can ask, sweetie.”

 Castiel blinked, “You knew I had a question on my mind?”

 Missouri cast him a glance over her shoulder, “It was written all over your face as soon as you walked in. I don’t need to read your mind to know that. And since you’re wondering, no, I can’t read all angels like that. Of course, then again, you’re one of the only two I’ve met in person.” Cass started to open his mouth, “You’re very human, hun, despite your Grace. You’re no harder to see through than Sam is. Like him you’re just a little inhuman, but with more than enough heart to make up for it.”

 “Thank you,” Castiel swallowed, staring at the jars in his arms, unsure of how to go on. “I . . . That means more to me than you know. For awhile, I was scared I had lost what had once made me human.”

 “Humanity is gained, never lost,” Missouri soothed, tossing him another jar.

 Castiel breathed out and caught the jar before he spoke again, “I want to ask about Dean,” he explained. “Recently . . . There was an incident which forced him to reexamine what I mean to him, and I’m not sure he’s taken it as well as he could have in different circumstances.” His voice wavered slightly before he added a hushed, “Or at all.”

 “You wonder if he loves you,” Missouri summarized, “Or whether what happened a month ago was simply a fluke. Worse, you believe it may have been Gabriel’s own chosen ending to that chapter in your lives.” She didn’t look up as the angel nodded, blue eyes downcast at the thought. “But you dare not look into his mind because you promised him his space and privacy, is that it?”


 “Then you cannot ask me to do so in your place, Castiel,” piling one last jar into his arms, she smiled before steering him towards the china cabinet and pulling out a bowl. “Your uncertainties of his feelings are something you must face alone. But,” she held up a finger as he opened his mouth to protest, “If I had to give any sound advice it would be this: Dean trusted you with all his heart not long ago, and then you left him. His strongest feeling right now is the same as yours: uncertainty. Place those jars on the counter child and open them for me, would you?” she ordered, watching as he spread them out, uncapping them on her direction. “Above all,” She went on, “what that boy needs is someone he can trust without hesitation. He had it once in you; he can very well have it again. But you can’t keep secrets from him, angel. And you must be willing to show that you too trust him in return.”

 “But I do,” Castiel protested as he grabbed a spoon from a drawer as she pointed to it. “I’ve always trusted Dean.” Missouri raised a skeptical eyebrow, taking the spoon and measuring out ingredients into the bowl.

“Always?” she questioned softly, “There was not a moment when your faith in him wavered?” Castiel shifted where he stood, and his hands slid into the pockets of his trench coat; knowing she had used to word “faith” for a reason.

 “I’m sorry, Dean. I just don’t have the same faith in you Sam does.”

"I was hoping he had forgotten," he murmured almost innaudibly

The psychic shook her head, letting out a sigh, “No, honey. Words like that are hard to forget when they come from someone you trust. Just as Sam can still hear his brother’s warning to never come back when he closes his eyes. Things like that, broken trust and bonds, are what wound the heart the most. Dean remembers, just as clearly as you do.”


 Castiel frowned, his hands forming fists in his pockets. “So it’s my fault?” he whispered.

 “No,” Missouri said as she spooned up some white powder and dumped it into the bowl. “One party is never entirely responsible. Dean shows the same amount of emotion as a rock despite what he may feel inside, and you’re not much better. The two of you are a perfect pair that way, and both equally at fault because of it.” She pointed the spoon at him as though brandishing a knife, “But for now, it is up to you to fix it. Dean’s done all he can, True Love’s First Kiss and all, and has walled himself up, scared of being abandoned again. You can’t blame him for acting like that, after all he’s been through. If you want him to reveal what he feels you have to break down those walls and show him you will never leave again.”

 “I can’t promise him that,” Castiel protested, “If Heaven needs me I-”

“Then leave now,“ Missouri’s eyes narrowed, her gaze suddenly dangerous as she looked at him again, “and never come back. The sooner you decide where your loyalties lie, the less it will hurt Dean. If you truly cared about him, you would know what to do.”


Gabriel was sitting on Dean’s shoulders, the Hunter hanging on to his calves as the fledgling tried to touch the ceiling. “Be taller, Dean,” he commanded, frustrated when his fingers failed to reach no matter how high he stretched, his little dark wings flapping as though he meant to take off then and there.

 “If he could he would have surpassed me years ago,” Sam chuckled, earning a glare from his brother. “What?”

 “You’re a bitch,” Dean hissed, hoping he’d spoken low enough that the little angel hadn’t heard him.

 “Jerk,” Sam said instantly, smirking. He straightened up as Castiel and Missouri shuffled into the room, the angel balancing a bowl in his hands that absolutely reeked. “Oh, good god, what is that?”

 “A salve to help your baby angel,” Missouri said tartly, taking the bowl from Castiel and gesturing towards Gabriel on Dean’s shoulders, who Cass grabbed wordlessly. “Sam, I need you to spread out his wings. Dean, you too. Castiel and I will coat all of his feathers with this, and it should rebind the seal properly.”

 Dean wrinkled his nose as he sat down on the couch on Castiel’s left, taking one of Gabriel’s wings and pulling it out to it’s full length, as Sam did the same on the opposite side. Gabriel whined, and Castiel murmured something to him to silence him. “And how long will that hold?” Dean asked, staring at the smelly concoction uncertainly.

 “A few weeks at the most,” Missouri replied, dipping a hand into the salve so she could begin coating black feathers with it. “The seal was most likely meant to be held together by his own power, rather than the spell in the ink on his back. Just as before, it will hide his wings for awhile. As small as he is however I can’t promise he’ll be able contain his Grace and keep the seal bound for long.”

 They worked for close to an hour in which Gabriel became bored and wiggly, which didn’t help at all. After the first half hour Dean was sure it wasn’t going to work, but when the last feather was coated and glistening with the stinky concoction, Gabriel shivered and the wings were gone as though they had never been there, dark inkings showing through the holes in the back of his shirt. The fledgling wobbled for a moment in Castiel’s lap, unused to the suddenly lighter weight of his body. Sam laughed, half in relief, half in amusement, “Well, now I think the next order on the list is a bath,” he put a hand to his nose to emphasize this idea.

 Gabriel made a mortified face and launched himself off of Castiel’s lap as if to fly, instead landing hard on the floor with a slightly startled look on his face. He frowned, glancing over his shoulders at the place where his wings would have been with a frustrated noise. “Hey! Now I can’t fly!”

“You don’t need to,” Castiel said evenly, grabbing him so he could tuck him under his arm in the same way as Dean had done earlier that day. “Remember that talk I had with you about blending in?”

 “Try to look as human as possible cause Dean will get mad if you stand out,” Gabriel said robotically. “I ‘member.” Sam snorted and Dean looked mortified.

 “Dude, you told him that? You’re not allowed to give the kid pep talks anymore,” Dean hissed.

 “M’not a kid, I’m an angel!” Gabriel yelled, flailing under Castiel’s arm as the larger angel began walking towards the front door.

 Dean laughed. “You’re still too small,” he mocked, atching Sam follow Castiel to the door he grew silent, Missouri’s hand coming to rest on his arm. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it,” he murmured, for the psychic’s ears alone.

 “No,” Missouri whispered, “But since when is anything ever easy?”

 “Never,” Dean agreed softly. “But will it end well? I . . . I don’t think Sam can take loosing Gabe again. Or anyone for that matter.”

 “I’m not a prophet,” Missouri chuffed, folding her arms over her chest, “I can’t tell you of things to come. But I will say this, you have to let Sam be his own person, Dean. It’s about time you let him grow up.”

 “And if I don’t?”

 Missouri shook her head, “What will come will come. I can’t give you promises or reassurances, Dean. Not without them being lies.” She pushed him towards the door, “Now shoo. You have places to go and people to see. Don’t be a stranger though, you hear?”

 “We’ll try not to,” he promised, smiling slightly.

 She watched them go with tired eyes, the Impala’s engine rumbling off into the distance as they drove away. Missouri wasn’t oblivious, to say the least. She saw more in a day than most people did in an entire lifetime. But Gabriel had taken her by surprise, in a way nothing had in a long, long time.

 The child’s life was a ticking time bomb, and she prayed that with those boys helping him, the countdown would stop before it was far too late.


Blank Pages Part 1

Blank Pages: When Everything’s Made To Be Broken






Dean Winchester loved the feel of the open road. He relished the sound of rubber rolling over gravel and blacktopped roads, the strong guttural roar of the Impala’s engine, and the blaring beat of Ramblin’ On from the car’s tape deck. As much as he loved the open road and the pleasant sense of peace and solitude it had given him in his early years, the extra weight in his baby was just as nice.

The passenger seat, normally occupied by his brother Sam bore a relaxed looking angel of the Lord that day, who turned a shy smile to Dean when he noticed the Hunter’s eyes on him. Dean grinned back, taking in the smooth sweeps of the tan trench coat that billowed up around Castiel’s legs and the sky blue tie the same shade as the angel’s eyes hanging askew from his collar.

Just behind the angel sat Sam, who had a handful of toy soldiers strewn about in his lap, a rather comical sight considering his not-so-childlike size. He raised an amused eyebrow when he noticed his brother staring through the refection in the mirror, before turning back to what he’d been doing. Beside the younger Winchester sat a small boy. Or at least, you’d think he was a boy if it weren’t for the mottled feathers in shades of black protruding from his shoulder blades. He too had a lapful of little army men, and his honey-gold eyes were fixed on them as he played with Sam, peering up at the Hunter through auburn brown bangs with a laugh.

It was because of this child that they were on the road again, so soon after their ordeal with Raphael and Meg just a month before. Castiel had insisted, a motion that was only urged on by Crowley’s warnings that an angel as powerful as Gabriel could not be contained within a child’s body for much longer.


As if sensing the turmoil in the Hunter’s thoughts, Castiel reached over and squeezed Dean’s shoulder comfortingly. Dean smirked, watching as Sam observed the silent exchange with a roll of his eyes from the back seat. “Problem, Sammy?” he asked teasingly.

“No,” Sam muttered, looking away. Sam had always been an observer, even as a child. Watch, listen, sense, and learn; that’s how it had been since he was small. So it had come to no surprise to him when a little over a month ago the only way to save Castiel’s life was True Loves First Kiss. From Dean. He smirked to himself, thinking back to the mortified look on his brother’s face when innocent little Gabriel had presented him with the solution to keeping one renegade angel intact. However, as an observer, he was becoming increasingly annoyed with the fact that thus far, Castiel and Dean had yet to do anything more than that. A quick kiss here and there, a light brush of the hands or soft touches when they thought Sam wasn’t looking, but that was it.

It was odd to the younger Winchester that Dean hadn’t jumped the angel’s bones already, being Dean and all. He surmised it was some kind of purity issue, possibly even a nagging doubt in his brother’s mind about committing some sort of grievant sin. All the same though, Sam was slowly scheming to trick the little group into getting two rooms instead of the usual one. Then he could get rid of the general UST and do some legit research on their current predicament, AKA returning one archangel to full size and power.

Gabriel stood up in his seat then and climbed over into Castiel’s lap, ignoring Dean’s protests about safety and “Put the kid in a damn seatbelt!”, Sam simply laughed, amused before he went back to sneakily playing with the plastic soldiers all by himself. Castiel looked pleased, and undid his own seatbelt (earning a reprimand from Dean in the process) and holding out his hands towards the other angel, palm up. Gabriel giggled and smacked them, launching into a long practiced game of patty-cake with his brother.

It was a calming scene for Dean to watch his little rag-tag family. “Settle down,” Sam had urged him over a year a half ago now, “Live that apple pie life you’ve always wanted. Be happy, for God’s sake.” And he was. He had tried to be for a short time with Lisa, but as with everything that had ever made him mildly content, it just hadn’t worked out. Plus, the nagging feeling of the Hunt calling him back had always been there in his heart and mind.

Dean had always been a man of the road, and he was perfectly happy to have it remain

that way. Sitting still in one place too long made his skin crawl with apprehension, dreading the day some creature would find him and extract its rather dull and unjustified revenge. And now, just like Sam had wanted him to, he had his family.

There was his brother, who Dean knew he couldn’t live without and would sacrifice himself for again and again if it came down to it. Sam would do the same. There was Castiel, his angel who had “Raised him from perdition” and whispered soft I Love You’s to Dean in the night when he thought the Hunter was sound asleep. After that was Bobby, his father in all but blood, and, grudgingly, Crowley, who’s saved their asses a couple dozen times by now and who they owed more than they wanted to admit. Hey, at least he seemed to genuinely care for Bobby, thought he aging Hunter chose to ignore 99.9% of the affections directed at him from the demon.

And then there was Gabriel, or Gabe as Sam so adoringly called the little archangel. They’d discovered him when Castiel had gone missing a little more than a month ago, hiding out in a suburbia playground with nothing but his name to console him. He had no memories, little controllable powers, and possessed the typical vocabulary of a four year old. Next to none. Sam wouldn’t let him leave his sight, and Dean couldn’t say for sure whether it was out of guilt or something else that made his brother look at the archangel like he did. To Gabriel, they were his family just as much as they were Dean’s. Castiel was his “little” brother, who he enjoyed playing with the most out of anyone, though Cass wasn’t the best company when it came down to it. He was getting better though, and these days even had a small smile on his face whenever Gabriel tugged at his hand or whispered secret child whisperings to him. Dean was his father, or at least the Hunter was treated as such. Gabriel held his hand when they went grocery shopping or crossed the street, and he went to Dean with his biggest questions, large golden eyes begging for answers to things even Dean sometimes couldn’t fathom. Bobby was his grandfather; the one he insisted should read him bedtime stories and whose lap he always wanted to sit in. Unfortunately, Bobby was also the one who got the brunt of Gabriel’s jokes, possibly unconscious revenge emerging from his Trickster personality. Crowley was simply the demon, the man the little archangel would stare at around corners in Bobby’s old house, shying away whenever Crowley looked at him but never coming within ten feet of the man.

And Sam? Sam was . . . Well, Dean wasn’t entirely sure what Sam was to Gabriel. He was the adult the angel ran to when he was scared, or had had a nightmare and needed someone to hold onto him through the remainder of the night. And Sam took diligent care of the fledgling as he would his own child, except that metaphor seemed off and somehow wrong to Dean. It was just another reason why this trip was so crucial. They needed to find out a way to change Gabriel back to normal as soon as possible, for Sam’s sake. Every day his brother’s eyes grew more and more anguished when he looked at Gabriel, guilt and fear and something Dean couldn’t name swimming in viridian green depths.

If he thought about it, Dean had to admit that he’d miss the kid when he turned back into an annoying bastard again. He’d always liked having someone who depended on him, or called up that “Maternal instinct” as Sam had so kindly put it one time. But Sam was grown, and though Dean loved to pretend he still needed him Sam had always had that independent streak to him. It was quite frustrating, really. As for Castiel, he and Dean were equals (in Dean’s mind anyways), so that didn’t fill in the blank for Dean either. For now, Gabriel did, and if the kid became an annoying jerk again he would miss it.

“I wannna sister, Tass,” Gabriel spoke up suddenly. The car swerved as Dean’s hands slipped on the wheel momentarily.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, pointedly ignoring Sam’s hysterical laughter from the back seat, “If Dean and I had a child it would be your niece, not your sister,” Castiel said logically, and Dean nearly lost control of the car again. Sam was clutching his sides and fighting for breath at this point.

“Wait, what?” Dean gasped, “What’s all this about kids? I never said anything about kids!”

Gabriel and Castiel both turned their heads in that slightly creepy robotic-angel way to look at him, “You were thinking it,” Castiel said firmly.

“W-was not!” Dean protested. Sure, he’d been thinking about kids in general, that didn’t mean he wanted a half-angel baby with Cass. Right? He coughed, directing his gaze to the road again as Gabriel crossed his arms and pouted.

“Meany-head,” Gabriel muttered, “Tell him he’s a meany-head, Tass!”

Obligingly, Castiel smirked and mouthed, “You’re a meany-head,” to Dean, watching as the corners of the Hunter’s mouth quirked upwards into a lopsided smile before he too laughed, the sound echoing Sam’s own persistent giggle from the back seat.

Yes, this was exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.


Balthazar was not a kind angel. Every movement he made, every miracle he brought about, every step he took between the three planes of this world he did for himself, and himself alone. If an action came with no rewards it was not worth his time, or his thin patience. He’d stood by during the biblical plagues of Egypt, gathering up the newly released souls of first borns like candy on Halloween, bargaining them off to demons and deavas alike. For a price, of course. If he’d had a choice, he would have preferred the lifestyle of a crossroads demon, buying and selling to his heart’s desire and swimming in the riches he was presented with.

But no, he was an angel. All that holy do-gooding la-di-dah that made him gag at the mere thought of it. Sure, he fought his wars when it was required of him, he’d even filled out a few prayers in his time. However, he considered that to be the dullest part of his existence. Wasn’t there supposed to be some higher purpose?

Sure, as an angel he should have been content to be a servant of God. If only he was. The truth of the matter was that Balthazar cared only about himself; not humanity, not his brothers, and certainly not his Father.

If one traced Balthazar’s actions back far enough it would be easy to find the point in time when he’d begun to stop caring about anyone but himself. As with all angels back then, it had been Balthazar’s duty to guard the tree at the center of Eden for a short time, and he’d done his job quite well if he said so himself. At least until the snake came, it’s fangs dripping with the venom of greed. It bit Balthazar in the cover of the night, just as it did Eve, and the movement so fast and swift that the angel never felt a thing.

Soon after Balthazar grew tired of his duties, frustrated with his siblings, and spiteful of his Father. It was then that the snake struck a bargain with him, the first of many the angel would partake in from then on. He was to leave his post, if just for an hour, and allow Eve access to the tree. In return he would be granted a piece of Lucifer’s own Grace, the brightest of them all.

Who could resist such an offer?

It was a small piece, but it still glowed brighter than the sun and the moon combined, even after Lucifer’s Fall from Grace, the most beautiful spark Balthazar had ever seen. It was his most treasured possession, and it made his greed grow.

It was Balthazar who told Michael about the angels down on earth who had bred with humanity, and he’d watched in glee as the garrison in question was struck down and the offspring locked away, never to be seen by living eyes again.

It was Balthazar who’d pointed out the Tower Of Babel to his siblings, taking the riches from it after it had been crumbled to dust.

It was Balthazar who’d convinced his brothers to give humanity another chance, to spare the greedy lowlifes so that he too could continue to roll in the corruption he created. Thus, Noah was given the message to build an arc.

It was Balthazar who brought a gift to The Savior the night of his birth, knowing that to give was to receive. Who better to receive from than God’s son?

And it was Gabriel who Balthazar was jealous of, marking just another sin on his angelic self, Envy. Gabriel got away with everything. He was absent from Heaven for hundreds of years, and not a single angel had noticed the way the archangel played Pagan God down on Earth. No, not Gabriel, he’s an archangel. Even after Balthazar gave them proof they didn’t believe him. Then when Gabriel had taken a liking to the youngest, and the last angel to be born within Heaven, Balthazar seethed.

There was nothing special about Castiel that Balthazar could see. He was an awkward fledgling, and an even more awkward angel. Following orders seemed to be his only purpose in life, and he, like any other angel, possessed little to no real emotion. Yet Gabriel doted on him as he had any of his Pagan born child monstrosities, maybe even more. It made Balthazar sick. There wasn’t a single thing special about the little angel of Thursday, the weakest, the youngest, the most inexperienced of all the brethren. Yet somehow, Balthazar was overlooked, and Castiel stood in the light of Gabriel’s Grace. Always.

“One day his actions will change the world as we know it,” Gabriel had told him once, watching Castiel with a fond look. Of course he would know, as the Angel of Prophecy, what the future would hold. There was some great and divine destiny for Castiel, of course there was. But for Balthazar? How many times could an angel be overlooked before it got to be too much?. Dean still could hardly believe it when he looked at the fledgling riding in the backseat of his car. This was the Trickster that had wrecked havoc on a college campus, trapped the brothers in an endless time loop of hundreds of Tuesdays, and watched in glee as they tried to play their roles in TV land. Dean sighed, reminding himself that besides that, it had been Gabriel who had died for them and basically handed over the keys to Hell. If it hadn’t been for the archangel, they wouldn’t even be around to face this problem in the first place.

Not long after that Gabriel vanished. The others said he died, but Balthazar knew better. Gabriel was too clever, too conniving, too human to simply die. No, he wasn’t dead. He was simply free, one of the many things Balthazar had never been able to obtain. But it was from Gabriel’s disappearance that Balthazar realized how to release himself from heaven’s confines, and truly begin the life he’d always wanted to lead.

He faked his own death in the heat of battle and slunk away into the shadows, not to be seen again for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

Balthazar had not been too pleased with the whole Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t affair. In truth he’d long grown tired of humanity, and saw nothing new in what they could provide him with save for their souls, filthy sinful things that they were, which he sold off first chance he got, . Actually, he’d been rather pleased to learn the world would be ending soon, and that Hell stood a winning chance. He’d always been one of the few on Lucifer’s good side ever since Eden, and the pickings in Hell presented him with whole new opportunities he’d never had before. It was quite exciting.

Until that damn Castiel had gone and put his foot down, screwing up the whole matter for everyone. And for what, some “Righteous Man?” Balthazar gagged on the very thought, remembering the angels he’d turned in for affections towards humanity.

Before Gabriel interfered things were still swinging his way however. The future Dean Winchester had glimpsed courtesy of Zachariah remained basically the same until the lost archangel had done a U-turn and changed his mind, going against the prophecy he knew all too well and getting himself killed.

Balthazar had never hated anyone more than he did in that moment when Gabriel’s Grace sent a shockwave across the earth as he died. From that point on, Team Hell was royally screwed.

Then Castiel the perfect little angel had reinstated heaven, putting out the order for all turncoat angels to be brought into custody. It was only a matter of time before they discovered Balthazar was not as dead as he’d pretended to be.

Which was why he had to act. Balthazar was no idiot, and he’d felt the flare of power from his Father the day shit went down at Stull cemetery. That was, after all, how Castiel had survived. Little known to most, that was how Gabriel survived as well.

The archangel’s Grace was contained in a tight ball, almost unnoticeable if Balthazar hadn’t been looking for it. God forbid the two biggest humanity loving angels should stay dead for any period of time. Though it was hidden to most, Balthazar saw it, for a brief flash of power before it disappeared amidst the rest of Earth’s life.

If he could find Gabriel, if he could kill an archangel, he could use that archangel’s Grace to conceal himself from his searching brethren for eternity, just as Gabriel had for so many years. It would have been the perfect plan except for the fact that he couldn’t actually find Gabriel. He’d managed to follow the faint glow of Grace to a playground in Collins County New Jersey before he lost it entirely. That was a month ago.


Balthazar paced in his apartment of the week, twirling his long-unused angel blade between his agile fingers. His eyes flickered to the naked figure bound to his bed and he licked his lips at the sight of the cuts already beginning to scab over. He’d enjoy picking them off one by one. “Where is he?” he asked, baring his teeth.

The figure on the bed glared up at Balthazar defiantly and jerked his head to the side so that his long silver-blond hair fell away from his blue eyes, “I. Don’t. Know.” It was the hundredth time he’d spoken those three words today alone.

“Don’t be like that,” Balthazar crooned, leaning over the man and tracing the scabs on his chest and abdomen.. He paused to watch him shudder with sick satisfaction. “You know you can tell me, Aziraphale. I won’t tattle.”

Aziraphale struggled against his binds and let out a defiant scream that Balthazar ignored. “You’re a monster!” Aziraphale roared, arching his back in an effort to free himself. Balthazar merely blinked.

“Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Balthazar replied coolly as he touched the tip the tip of the silver blade to Aziraphale’s sternum.

Aziraphale scowled and jerked away as far as he could from his brother, “You’re sick,” he hissed breathlessly, chest heaving for air as he fought down waves of fear.

“Let’s just say a snake bit me,” Balthazar murmured. He blinked, as though just realizing something and a wicked smile worked its way across his face before he cut a long line from collar to navel across Aziraphale’s flesh. “Now that I think about it, you’re friends with that snake, aren’t you.” He grinned as the other angel’s eyes went wide, “You are. What’s his name again? Crawley?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale spat, the blood welling up from his newest wound, creating spider like whorls across his chest as he spoke, crimson dripping down his sides. “And he has nothing to do with this! You can’t blame your greed on him either; the venom only works on the ones who are already corrupted.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You’re just as corrupted as me,” Balthazar whispered, licking the blood away from the other’s ribs. He smirkd as Aziraphale hissed in disgust. “How long have you been on earth, Aziraphale? Longer than Gabriel even, surely. Which means you would have noticed the archangel’s presence wherever he is.”

The blond grimaced and bared his teeth, “Even if I did, you’d be the last person I’d tell.”

“No, but I know who will,” Balthazar sneered before he dragged the edge of the blade up Aziraphale’s arm with a bored stare, watching the blood well up in its wake. “Crowley has a looser mouth than you, little angel.”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes went wide again, his mouth dropping open, “Don’t you dare-”

“Hurt him? That’s not really up to you.” Balthazar paused, amused, “Oh, don’t tell me you care about the little Hellspawn, Aziraphale.” He laughed when the angel’s mouth set into a tight frown, silence stretching. “Do you love him, angel? Do you love that demon?” He spun the blade in his hands, waiting for an answer that would never come. “Why are you here then, angel? Why not be at his side like you wish to be.”

“It attracts to much attention,” Aziraphale spat, eyeing the silver apprehensively. “A demon and an angel hanging around each other during the midst of an apocalypse? It got us in enough trouble once. It’s safer this way.”

“Or so you thought,” Balthazar mused. His tongue flicked out to taste the tip of the blade, lapping up droplets of blood. “Now there’s no one here to save you, little angel.”

Aziraphale watched the knife lower towards his heart and swallowed, “He’ll kill you,” he whispered. “He won’t rest until he finds you and rips your head from your shoulders.”

“Exactly,” Balthazar laughed, the sound cruel and cold, making Aziraphale wince. “And when he does find me, I’ll be waiting. And I’ll get him to tell me where the last archangel is.” He cocked his head, drinking in the sight of Aziraphale’s defiant, terrified blue eyes. “For now though, your Grace will be enough to keep me hidden.”

The blade plunged down into Aziraphale’s chest and the angel screamed, the white-blue of his Grace ripping itself from his body before Balthazar scooped it into his own, gathering it up with a triumphant laugh as the light died from Aziraphale’s eyes.



Bobby studied the chessboard contemplatively, deciding on his next move with the utmost care. The boys had never been much of a match for him, not even Sam with his Stanford smarts and skills at thinking ahead. But Bobby had more practice, more time in his later years to spend playing nothing but chess, honing his skills and strategies to his heart’s content. Crowley, however, won half the games they played together. A worthy opponent if he said so himself.

He was about to move his knight into place when Crowley looked up at him over his glass of scotch, mouth half open and eyebrows furrowing together. If Bobby didn’t know better he would have said the look was one of pure anguish. Except that Crowley was a demon, surely he couldn’t feel things like that, but apparently he did. Crowley dropped his glass, the thing shattering on the hardwood floor of the kitchen before he dropped his head into his now empty hands, his entire body giving a heaving shudder. “Crowley?” Bobby stood, wondering if the wounds the demon had received from the deavas were acting up.

“We have to go,” Crowley whispered, the sound coming out in a choked sob. “Gotta find the boys.”


Crowley raised poison-yellow eyes to him, looking more deadly than Bobby had ever seen him, “Some bloody fool is trying to piss me off and they’re doing a right fucking job of it. Pack your bags, Bobby, we’re leaving before the wanker gets a clue as to where I am.”

Bobby swallowed as he skirted into the other room to grab the emergency pre-packed duffle he always had on hand, “And if he does?”

“I’ll tear him limb from limb, what of it?” Crowley snapped before leading the way towards the truck. Bobby started the engine and checked over his shoulder to make sure the weapons supply in the back seat was ready to go. On the passenger side Crowley had curled up into a tight ball, forehead resting against the glass.

Blank Pages Masterpost

Title: Blank Pages

Author: 1_with_Russia (Kari Kurofai)

Artist: vicious_sock

Genre/Pairing: Historical Crossover? Pairings: Gabriel/Sam, background Dean/Castiel, alluded to Crowley/Bobby, Crowley/Aziraphale, Merlin/Arthur.

Rating: R

Word count: 52509? -ish?

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for all of season 5. Possible spoilers for the BBC Series Merlin. Spoilers for Good Omens. Warning, WARPED VEIW OF HISTORY. :]

Summary: Sequel to Open Pages

Dean, Castiel, and Sam set out to find a way of returning Gabriel, stuck in a childlike form after his supposed death, to his rightful, normal annoying self. But while they get advice from an old friend Balthazar lays out his plans for revenge ending in the ultimate demise of the last Archangel. When Kali comes into play with a final offer, and the only solution, Sam decides to make a blood bond with the miniaturized Archangel that unknowingly sends him on a trip through Gabriel’s best, and more often than not his worst memories. In the end, it’s up to Sam to make the choice whether or not to complete the bond or let Gabriel die.


Link to fic: Full
 Part 1
 Part 2
 Part 3
 Part 4
Part 5
 Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
 Part 10
 Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14

Link to art:Here

NG Life

okay, so right now, NG Life is my favorite manga (that i actually buy). but i jsut found out that the main character, Keidai, does not end up with hsi love from his past life, Serena. which is how it SHOULD be, since i am a huge-goobery-CLAMP-fan, and  love the idea of Soulmates and all. so now i'm all super pissed. DX. even if Serena did end up as a boy, Keidai is an idjiot! baka! now i msut go write an epic fanfiction. XP

(no subject)

I've actually had this thing for quite awhile now, but haven't used it. D: I've been using it to join the different Doujin scannners groups so I could expand my already massive colelction. (I think I have a little over 500 now. :D )

Anywho . . . Kat say’s I need to use the thing, so here I am. But I’ll probably still spam my facebook anyways, lolz.