Title: Angels and Devils
Characters: Virginia Gray, Gabriel Gray, Martin Gray
Words: 3,300
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Child abuse.
Setting: Pre-season; Gabriel's childhood.
Summary: A series of scenes from the history of Gabriel Gray.
Then
"See?" She swung the door open dramatically, grinning in unfeigned pleasure. "This is your room! Oh, what am I saying?" Virginia shook her head and rolled her eyes at her silliness. "It's always been your room!" She paraded into the tiny space, unfazed by the little boy's confused expression at all the clutter.
She carried on enthusiastically, "Of course, we'll need to tidy it up a bit and move all my sewing things into the hall closet, maybe move some of these old boxes from when Grandpa Stell died." She pushed one box aside and threw a bolt of cloth and a half-finished afgan blanket over two others that were roughly level. "You can sleep here for now. Use this bag of quilting scraps for a pillow. I heard Marla say she had an old single bed she was getting rid of and that would be perfect for in here. We'll get it tomorrow."
She drew the boy into the room. He was still silent as a church mouse as she sat him on one of the smaller boxes. She stroked his face and then his fine, silky child's hair. Her own was delicate, but his had that peculiar quality of children's hair – more gossamer even than her own. It was angelic. She petted him like she'd seen fancy ladies pet their purebred dogs and with as little regard for how he felt about it. She was allowed this.
"You're my son!" she crowed, just over the moon about how the day had turned out. His expression grew troubled, but she cut him off before he could speak. "You are!" she said sharply, adopting the tone she used with Martin when he needed to know she meant business. "I am your mother and Martin is your father. We've always been your parents. That's how it is. Anything else is evil – do you understand me? Evil!" His eyes grew wide at this and she knew she'd chosen the right word.
'Evil' had been a word greatly on her mind during all the day's driving both to and from the diner. It was an infection in the Gray family, a taint, an impurity she would see driven out and purged by any means necessary, for that was the duty of the righteous. Virginia Gray took all her duties very seriously – as a wife, as a Christian, and now, as a mother.
The Day After
"I'm not your son!"
She was left momentarily speechless at his cruel and unprovoked outburst. She stared at him, affronted, then whipped her eyes away. She would not even look on him if that was the way it was to be. "No!" she said sharply. "You're not. You're a monster! A demon. An evil thing who has stolen my child and appeared in his place. I will drive you out of this house and see you destroyed!" She rose up and grabbed up the broom from the corner, turning on the boy.
The child's rage wavered at the sight of the wooden rod. He hesitated, as though not at all sure what to do about being confronted by a violent adult. Or perhaps he'd seen them too often and knew there was nothing to be done. Either way, she seized him by the fabric at the top of his shoulder and swung him about, flailing at his back and thighs rather ineptly with the broom handle.
She was still hitting him, though. He was screaming now in inarticulate distress, though whether it was in pain or just fear she couldn't tell. In a quavering voice, she called out, "You will know the rod and the lash until you give me back my son!"
That seemed to flip a switch for him. Instantly, he went from wailing in terror to making sensible words. "I am your son! I am your son! I am!"
She stopped, broom handle still at the ready. "And what is my son's name?"
"Gabriel," he choked out the unfamiliar name, tears and snot running freely down his face.
She knew this was the time to show all was forgiven. That was how discipline was to be given. She threw down the broom handle and swept up the boy in her arms, beaming at him. "Oh, Gabriel! You've come back to me! My baby! My angel! Such a sweet boy! You would never be naughty and sin, now would you?"
He had a dazed, unsettled look on his face.
"Gabriel?" she prompted, an edge of warning to her voice. "You would never give yourself over to sin, would you? You wouldn't pretend you weren't my little angel just to upset me, would you?"
"No?"
"No!" She nearly shouted in his face so he'd understand how important this was. "No, you wouldn't! Never!" She shook her head. "That wasn't you earlier. That was someone else. We won't even talk about it anymore. You're too adorable, anyway. I love you. Such a good boy!" She mooned over him until his tears were dried and he seemed to have forgotten about it. Children had such short attention spans, she knew.
A Week Later
She woke in the night at the strange, scraping sound. It wasn't right. It was coming from across the hall. She jostled her husband. "Martin," she whispered, "someone's trying to break in!"
"Huh?" Despite his obvious confusion, he understood her words and was on his feet in seconds. He scrabbled at the night stand in the dark, pulling out the ancient revolver they'd inherited from her grandfather. Thus equipped, Martin swung open the bedroom door and walked into the living room.
Virginia followed, straining her ears. There was a thump and a soft grunt from the right.
"It's the boy," Martin murmured. He padded that direction, then shoved open the door so hard it slammed. The boy shrieked. Martin gasped. The gun went off. Glass shattered. Virginia cried out. Gabriel yelped. "What the hell!" Martin yelled. Martin rushed into the room and there was commotion. Virginia came to the doorway and looked in, but all she saw was Martin yanking Gabriel out from where he was cowering on the other side of the bed. There was a stack of boxes under the window, which was partly open and had been shot out.
"Don't you ever do that again!" Martin was red-faced and yelling into Gabriel's face, shaking the boy with every word. He held him by the neck in his large hand and waved the revolver around threateningly with the other. "You ain't going nowhere! Where the hell did you think you were going? Huh? Scare my wife to death?"
"His mother," Virginia added from the doorway, still trying to figure things out. She hadn't even known the window could be opened. There was a long screwdriver on the floor among the glass shards.
"Your mother! Right! Even worse! Do you want her to die, too? Huh?"
Gabriel was trembling in fear, but she could make out the adamant shake of his head.
"You like seeing her scared? Huh? I hope you're scared now, you little runt!" Finally, Martin desisted, slinging the child towards the back of the bed. Gabriel froze there, staying exactly where he was put.
"What happened?" Virginia asked. She went back to looking at the window and all the broken glass.
"I opened the door," Martin snarled, "and must have seen my own reflection there. Looked like some big bruiser was pulling him out the window, but now I know what was really happening." He pointed the gun intentionally at the boy. "I ought to end you. You're not worth anything!"
"Martin," she said in a quiet, scolding tone like he was teasing and she was calling him on it. They'd already fought so much about this.
"He's a waste of time and money." The child stared at the barrel of the gun, silent and still as he often was.
Virginia's voice took on a wheedling tone. "He's the fulfillment of my prayers, Martin. God sent him to me." Martin looked unconvinced. "Tell me what was happening," she asked to distract him, "if there wasn't anyone trying to take him."
"He was running away! Your little angel, running away!"
"My little angel?" Everything made sense now – the boxes stacked up for Gabriel to stand on, the screwdriver to lever it open, Gabriel being half out when Martin opened the door. She moved around in front of Martin, between the two, and sat on the edge of the bed facing her husband. "Gabriel wouldn't try to run away!" she said reasonably. "He would never! He's a sweet boy. Look at him."
"I'm looking." He put down the gun and shook his head. "What I see is a big mistake." He gestured at the window with his gun. "Tomorrow, I'm bricking that up. No more of this nonsense. You got nowhere to go, anyway, you little loser. You're nobody and nothing. That's how it is." He snorted and stomped out, heading back to the bedroom.
Virginia waited quietly until he was gone, then she crawled up the bed next to her boy. "Poor baby," she said, kissing him on the forehead. "It's going to be so cold in here with that window busted. I think I'll stay here with you and make sure you're safe." She took a firm hold of his wrists, just in case.
A Year Later
"Little," Martin said. Virginia watched from the corner, looping yarn into another afgan as she watched the two interacting well for once.
"L, I, T, T, L, E," Gabriel said with careful pronunciation and a respectful tone.
"Hm. Years."
"Y, E, A, R, S."
"Yep. I'm going to skip some of these others. I don't know why they assign you such easy ones. You can do better. Here's the extra credit word: Consumer."
Gabriel hesitated, his eyes going briefly unfocused. Then he spoke, "C, O, N, S … O." Whatever he saw on Martin's face, Virginia missed, but Gabriel didn't. The boy winced at his misstep. "U. I meant U." Martin shrugged generously, allowing it. Virginia relaxed a little. "U, M, E, R."
"How many U's?"
"… Just one."
"Okay." He handed the list to Gabriel. "I don't see why we need to go over the others. Get an A and it doesn't matter."
Gabriel nodded obediently, then came over to sit on the floor next to Virginia. The light was good here, because she needed it for her work. Gabriel held the list up and studied it, probably reviewing all the words Martin hadn't covered. She took a few moments to pet his head, stroking his hair without mussing it. "Such a nice evening," she observed, looking over at Martin, who had taken up the newspaper. "We're having more of those."
Martin shot Gabriel an indifferent look. "Not as nice as they used to be."
But it was still an improvement. She patted Gabriel several more times before going back to her stitch work.
A Decade Later
"I have a job now," she explained to Gabriel as she put away the few groceries she'd been able to collect from the food pantry. "I'll be a secretary for the church, so I won't be here in the afternoon anymore after school. It's only temporary, of course, until Martin comes back."
Gabriel was putting away the canned goods. He snorted and slammed one of the cans on the counter. "It's been weeks! People don't leave unless they have somewhere to go, Mom. He's not coming back!"
She looked at him in alarm, then reached out and snatched the abused can of diced tomatoes from him. "What are you saying?" she hissed. "I've told you over and over that he's coming back!"
"I know! You have! And he's not coming back no matter how much you say it!"
There was a lot in his tone she didn't approve of. "You sound like you're glad he's gone!" Gabriel rolled his eyes in an adolescent, moody sulk. It enraged her even more. "After all I've done today! Debasing myself for food for us to eat, begging for work so I can pay our bills, for you to be so ungrateful-!" She shook her head and began to lecture him, "My Gabriel wouldn't be happy that his father was gone. My Gabriel-"
He spun on her, his face strangely contorted in the weird planes puberty had begun to shape it into. "Maybe I'm not your Gabriel, then!"
"What?" She was dumbfounded.
"Maybe I'm someone else, someone powerful and scary!" He bared his teeth at her like a snarling animal, looming up in front of her. He'd grown over the years to match her height (and he was far from done growing), but at the moment, he looked taller still. She shrank back with a yelp. He continued, "And I say I'm glad he's gone! He was a useless old bully who never treated you right! We're better off without him!"
"No!" she screamed, and shoved him against the counter next to the sink. She looked at the dish rack next to it. A sharp knife protruded from the utensil caddy. His eyes went to it as well, then to her. The expression on his face was so cold and calculating that she changed her mind about grabbing for it. Instead, she yelped again and fled to her bedroom, slamming the door and locking it. Then she rushed to the night stand, yanking open the drawer and searching for the gun. But it wasn't there. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Who has it?" she whispered to herself. "Did Martin take it? Or did that creature outside?" She turned horrified eyes towards the bedroom door, envisioning the thing on the other side, armed and waiting to destroy her. A sob escaped her throat. She sank to her knees next to the bed and began to pray as fervently as she ever had, pleading with the Lord to have mercy, drive out the demons, and bring back her family. After several minutes, the Lord heard her.
"Mom?"
It was the plaintive tone that got to her. It sounded like Gabriel was small again instead of a teenager.
"Mommy? Don't leave me, too. I'm all alone out here. I don't want to be alone. … Mom?"
He sounded so frightened. She went to the door and touched it reverently. If the Lord had really done this miracle for her, then it would be wrong not to accept it. She unlocked the door and cracked it open, fully ready to slam it back if things weren't as they should be. Her boy was sitting on the floor of the living room, looking lost and confused, younger than he had in years. "Mommy?" When she still hesitated, he added, "I'm your Gabriel."
It broke her to hear that. With a tearful rush, she threw open the door and ran to him, taking him in her arms as though he was still a little boy. She kissed him over and over on the cheek and petted his hair. "Oh, thank the Lord!" she said, giving gratitude to Him that most deserved it. "My angel. My Gabriel. The devil took you from me and made you say such horrible, horrible things! Oh my. Oh my. Sweet Gabriel. You would never say such things, would you?"
He shook his head slowly, settling his arms around her to return the hug.
"You're so pure. So sweet. I'm so sorry. That was terrible. Maybe I shouldn't take that job-"
"No, Mom," he said, and his voice was oddly back to sounding normal, like the child's voice had just been her imagination, what she'd wanted to hear. Maybe God had known her heart would be most softened by hearing the voice of her baby. That must be it. Gabriel went on, "Take the job. We need the money. It's okay. I'll see what I can find, too. Dad left his tools. Maybe I can find someone who will let me do some work on the weekends."
"Oh," she sighed. "You have such a good heart, you know that? You wouldn't have to do that."
"It's no bother," he said quietly. "I need to do something to be worthwhile."
"You're such a sweet, sweet child," she murmured, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. "The Lord has answered all of my prayers in you." He nodded and conjured up a weak smile. She kissed him twice more on the cheek to bolster it. "My special boy."
Now
"I'm leaving and I'm taking my things with me."
"Gabriel, I know you think you're being reasonable, but this is so silly! You can stay here. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Mom, I can't." He went to the closet and pried out a set of tan, cloth-bound suitcases.
"Yes, you can! And anyway, that's the only luggage set I have! You can't have it." She snatched back the smaller one from him. He shot her a look that was almost not him. Her face darkened and the phase passed.
"I have to put my clothes in something."
"Find something else." She dropped the smaller suitcase and followed him into his bedroom, clutching at the larger one. "Or don't go! This is ridiculous, Gabriel. It's so expensive to live alone!"
"Mom, I've already paid the deposit and the first and last month's rent. I have to get out of here. We fight constantly-"
"No, we don't!" she argued. "You're my boy! You can't-"
"Yes, Mom, I can and I will!" He turned on her with teeth bared, but she didn't back down.
Instead, she yanked away the suitcase that he'd been transferring clothes into, and she dumped them out on the floor. She kicked the clothes, scattering them. "You can't! You won't have anything to wear. No one to take care of you! You'll be all alone forever!"
"That's crazy! I have to move out! I'm not a child anymore. I'm an adult! I'm different! I feel different!"
"No!" She yanked on one side of the suitcase with all her power. He pulled on the other. It was a tough old thing, though. It warped in the middle and the seams groaned. "You're still my little boy! You're always my little boy!"
"Except when I'm not!" he snarled.
It was so surprising, she released the suitcase in alarm. "Gabriel?"
"Of course!" He still looked … different, like he'd said, but she'd never seen it before now. He went on, "You don't need the luggage. You're never going to go anywhere anyway. But I am! I'm taking it and you can't stop me." He scooped up his clothes and threw them into it, then shoved it closed and struggled to get it to latch.
"I've failed!" She fell to her knees and looked up in supplication and prayer. "Oh Lord, I have failed as a mother, as a woman, and as your servant. Please forgive me. Find mercy."
"Mom …." Gabriel shook his head and went on with his hurried packing.
"I pray for my son, wherever he may be-"
"I'm right here," he said grumpily.
"I pray for Martin and for everyone I have ever wronged. I have sinned, O Lord. I have sinned. Everyone I have ever loved has left me!" Tears sprang from her eyes as she realized he was really going and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing, forcing him to awkwardly step around her on his way out.
"Mom," he said from the door, "I love you." The door shut between them.