Hit Restart, Not Rewind
Chapter 1
He couldn't believe it.
They did it.
Those sorry bastards actually did it.
When he had first woken up, fully restored despite standing on top of the impression of his own scorched wings, it was one of the first things he had realized.
If the fact that the world and humanity was still standing with no more wear and tear than usual wasn't enough, he had woken up with all his angelic senses open in a way that he hadn't done in eons. Because of it, he could feel the power shift in Heaven as surely as he could feel the pulse of his own grace curling just beneath the surface of his vessel. It was a drastic thing, a dark void where a well of power and light should be.
It wasn't the only void either.
Both Lucifer and Michael had been removed from the playing field.
Sure, he had given those two boneheads a means to possibly, maybe stop Lucifer, but Michael?
Well, the Winchesters did have a knack for pulling the impossible out of their asses. They had a habit of going left when you're trying to steer them towards right.
Now that he was once more miraculously (thanks Dad) among the living, he would have to drop in on them to see how they were celebrating successfully averting the Apocalypse.
But first it was high time he bite the bullet and head up to actually check in on the family.
He almost wished he hadn't.
Heaven, while whole and undamaged, was in a state of chaos. The uproar and confusion was almost a living thing, volatile and unpredictable.
With Mikey and Luci off the map, (not dead, no, they didn't feel dead) and Daddy Dearest still MIA, it was like the whole Host had turned into a flock of headless chickens, lost and confused and completely without a sense of direction. Most were desperate for someone, anyone, to give them orders, to tell them what to do. Word from a few seraphs from his old garrison had informed him that a few individuals had already stepped up to the plate with varying degrees of success.
It was hard not to laugh when one of them dropped the name of the Little Angel That Could.
Sounded like his dear little Castiel had made quite the splash both before and after his rebellion. Miraculously, he had survived the failed End of Days with his grace restored and a new iron clad conviction of bringing Free Will to the Heavenly Host. Apparently many were hanging off his words like gospel, positive he was onto something, or at least heading in the right direction. Others . . . well.
Let's just say Castiel wasn't the only one in the running for Head Honcho of Heaven, and not everyone liked change.
If there was one this Gabriel had learned from his time away, it was that Heaven needed a change.
When he finally found Castiel to play a couple rounds of catch-up, he was a bit busy getting his ass served up on a silver platter. Courtesy of the oldest remaining Archangel in Heaven, of course.
With the memory of his own death fresh in his mind, along with all the reasons that drove him to it, he let those emotions flow and consume him, grabbing onto that conviction and feeding it like a wildfire.
Plus, he had already been informed of Raphael's grand idea of springing Michael and Lucifer and continuing the Big Showdown. Everything that he had died for would be wasted.
Not on his watch. Not this time.
He revealed himself sporting his trademark grin and his blade in hand, twirling it with a practiced flourish.
"Aww, Raph, didn't anyone tell you its dangerous to pick on the little guy? You never know who's sitting in his corner."
His older brother froze, zeroing in on his arrival and leaving a battered Castiel to curl on the grass coughing blood. The younger angel lifted his head, bright eyes widening in shock while a line of red streamed from his nose.
Yeah, that was so not a good look on him.
"Well," Raphael acknowledged, sounding honestly surprised. "I was under the impression Lucifer had disposed of you when you went against the Word. I should have known it was too good to be true."
"Aww, nice to see you too, bro! It's nice to feel so welcomed after all this time!"
"Gabriel," Castiel rasped, voice grating harsher than usual as he attempted to crawl to his feet. "The Winchesters said you died. Sam saw your wings. They burned your vessel."
The idiots had tried to come back for him. Of course they did.
"Don't you remember, Castiel? Our dear brother is an expert in faking his own death."
"Hey now, no faking required on this go-round," he informed them, voice deceptively chipper. "Sorry Cassie, you're no longer the only angel who apparently has a restart button. You 'n I will sit and swap stories later. Compare the experience. It'll be fun! But first Raph and I are gonna have a nice heart to heart about his ideas for the Apocalypse 2.0."
They chatted.
They disagreed.
And then only one Archangel remained in Heaven.
oOoOo
Turns out he missed a lot.
Dean fucking Winchester out-stubborning Michael, for one.
That act alone must have bugged the shit out of the Host, especially when they had to resort to resurrecting a dead boy just to insure that Michael would actually have a compatible vessel.
Then there was Castiel's complete and literal fall from grace and his second brutal death at the hands of an archangel.
And then Sam's very intentional and deliberate swan dive into the Pit.
That little tidbit hit him way harder than he anticipated.
Castiel had to repeat himself on that one, because there was no way he heard that correctly. The Sam Winchester that he was familiar with was a frustratingly tenacious creature, as was proven on their every encounter. And just as thick-headed as his brother when it suited him.
After all that, he never thought Sam would actually say Yes. Not without his hand being forced in some way.
Sure, Gabriel didn't know what he expected the boys to do, but that . . . that hadn't even been in the realm of possibility, let alone a feasible plan.
Having seen the true extent of Winchester stubbornness first hand, he really shouldn't have been surprised.
Gabriel didn't know how they were going to go about keeping Luci in one spot long enough to throw back into time-out, but he had been thinking more along the lines of a trap laid in Holy Oil. After all, that was how they caught him. But bagging Michael, after stealing the wheel from Lucifer?
Yeah, no, he wouldn't have imagined that one.
It was all well and good that both Michael and Lucifer were sharing Jail time. Perfect even, if not for one thing.
Two Winchesters, in blood if not by name, were sharing a cell with them.
The image of Sam throwing himself into the cage kept clawing at him, setting itself on repeat and refusing to be ignored. The vision didn't sit well with him at all, making something familiar crawl within him, demanding he do something about it.
That didn't sit well with him either.
The last time he had that urge in relation to the Winchesters he had ended up with his own blade buried in his gut.
He had always taken a special interest in the Winchesters. It was a bit risky given his avoidance of anything Host-related, but for this, for them, he had made an exception. At first it had been something like morbid curiosity, like an eight-car pile up you knew was coming, but you couldn't take your eyes away from. Watching those two idiots blindly following their scripts had been excruciatingly painful, especially since he knew the outline for the grand finale.
He had tried to help, for all the good it did. He had made an attempt to make it easier from them, to get them used to the idea that one of them was going to die. After that plan crash and burned he gave it another go on a more private stage, only this time he underestimated the humans resourcefulness and powers of observation. Even as he had stood there, trapped and angry on being called out on his own bullshit, he had to hand it to them. He watched the Winchesters leave with Castiel in tow, the three of them willing to stand against Heaven and Hell and any other celestial force that came their way for a future that wasn't written in any prophecy or scripture.
As pissed as he was, he had to respect their conviction.
Maybe he had become more invested than he led himself to believe.
That was a flat out lie.
He knew.
He knew exactly how deep in he was, but if there was one thing Gabriel was good at besides meting out his favorite kind of justice it was burying the truth under so many layers of evasive B.S. that he could ignore the things that matter.
And the Winchesters definitely mattered.
He had been interested in them from the get go, of course he was. But if he was brutally honest with himself, he could point out the exact moment he began to truly give a damn. The instant he saw even the tiniest glimmer of hope of a different ending, even if he didn't dare believe in it at the time.
At the end of his stint in Broward County he had sat back and watched as Sam turned into a violent and sharply focused thing, a beast that was hard and driven. Intent on his goal and disregarding any and all of his old morals in the pursuit of it. It was scarily like watching Lucifer change all over again, his every action driving home the fact that this was his brother's True Vessel. The thought alone chilled him.
But then Sam begged.
Not demanded, begged, broke down completely and pleaded for his brother's life.
Gabriel had caved in that instant. Not because of a sad puppy face, but because he did what Lucifer had never done. Lucifer and Michael were both so set in their paths, neither would ever consider trying to spare the life of the other if it meant changing their ways or admitting fault. And Lucifer especially never begged for anything in his life, his pride refused to allow it.
And in that instant Gabriel had felt that maybe, maybe Sam and his brother could find a way out of this.
That maybe things weren't as set in stone as both Heaven and Hell wanted to believe.
He had been right.
When it was all said and done, there was only one thing to do really.
Gabriel turned to Castiel and asked him blandly if he wanted to join him on a little jaunt down to the cage.
oOoOo
Lucifer didn't want to let Sam go.
They were able to snatch his body easily enough, well, Gabriel was able to anyway, but Lucifer had sunk his claws deep into Sam's soul and was refusing to give it up. With the way he had been masking his grip, it would have been easy for a lesser angel to miss it entirely. It would have been so stupidly easy for his soul to be left behind, and for them to have nothing more than a hollow animated corpse.
The very thought was enough to give Gabriel chills.
After passing Sam's empty body to Cas, Gabe dove back down and went to retrieve the boy's soul.
Lucifer had turned feral and possessive, not caring how Sam's soul cried out in pain as he gripped him tighter.
This was gonna be tricky.
The last thing Gabriel wanted was for Sam's soul to shatter in the struggle, but as it was, there were already signs of scarring, plus extensive damage that would take time to heal. Gabriel tried not to think about what would happen if he couldn't pry Sam from his older brother. Or, you know, shattering the kid's essence like a dropped wine glass.
No pressure.
He and Lucifer grappled, his older brother clearly had the advantage, after all, unlike Gabriel, he had no qualms about doing damage to Sam.
Gabriel was so distracted, he forgot that there was more than one Archangel trapped down here.
So when he felt the solar-flare-bright energy swoop in all he could think was oh crap. He didn't expect Michael to step in, furious, and still wearing the form of Adam Milligan. He charged in from behind, restraining Lucifer long enough for Gabe to get a better hold on Sam's terrified soul and pull.
When Sam finally came free, Gabe didn't question it when a second soul was suddenly pushed into his hands.
Michael's eyes caught his and held them for a single moment, flashed him a small, regretful smile, and then enfolded Lucifer in his wings, forcing them both to drop like stones, falling further into the cage. He was buying them time.
Jaw set, Gabriel gathered his little group and fled, trying to ignore how Adam Milligan's soul thrashed in his grip, screaming for Michael.
They left the cage and locked the door behind them.