He honestly expects there to be more fuss when he abducts the youngest angel fledgling.
Then again, what did Gabriel really expect? Dad hasn't been around for centuries – not that Michael has been very forthcoming on the issue to the lower ranks – and no-one expects an angel fledgling to be found in the centre of the cupids, budding Angel Grace hidden by the multitude of cherubs who swarmed and cooed over his darling little form. Not to mention, the Cupid Mark tying him to his future love did a thorough job of masking his very-extremely-majorly future warrior of Heaven vibe little Castiel has going for him – Gabriel would be jealous, if he didn't have one of his own.
Gabriel's lucky he didn't leave Heaven earlier, or then maybe little Balthazar wouldn't have come tugging on his wings, asking why the Cherubs were looking after an Angel. Curious little fellow, Gabriel's Baltz and nosy to boot. As soon as Balthazar brought it to his attention, Gabriel was winging his way through the lower levels of Heaven rather than down to them – because seriously, Gabriel had it with the snobs up top centuries before Lucifer Fell, his archangel brothers very much included in that – and homing onto the feeling of new Grace.
Oh, how beautiful it is to feel a baby Angel, years after the fact. Gabriel wonders how growing up on Earth will affect Castiel, power-wise – which will happen, because Gabriel is never going back to Heaven, not with the discord and Michael's new, stringent rule in the absence of Father and Castiel is his fledgling, his fledgling who he will raise as his own – but mentally, there should be a little less rigor and blind acceptance.
Gabriel hope it will be good for Castiel, to be the prime subject of this experiment, of sorts…though Gabriel will be sure never to let Castiel out of his otherworldly sight, even when Castiel becomes independent. Gabriel's not that stupid.
"You're going to be a terror, I'm sure," he says to his fledgling though, grinning and swinging him around in his new body. Gabriel's always been smart, smart enough to manipulate Dad's universe and create human Vessels suitable for both himself and little Castiel.
Castiel looks at him in wonder, eyes perpetually glued to him, but when he's swung around in this tiny, new, toddling form, the sensations overwhelm him and his eyes dart around, cataloguing existence even as he wriggles and clenches his fists, flaring Grace making mountains crumble miles away from where they stand.
"My fledgling," Gabriel says fondly, tucking him against his chest and pointing at the horizon, where the rising sun can be seen. "That's a star. It's a ginormous ball of fiery gas in the middle of space, warming and brightening the air with rays of light…"
Yes, Gabriel thinks, explaining the concept of the universe to his fledgling, this will be good.
In Stanford, Sam gets served coffee by a dark-skinned, twitchy Israeli man in a unicorns are fluffy jumper, who watches him intensely the entire time he's there. It's strange that later, he'll meet him again when his boyfriend, Gabriel, invites him to meet him family.
"He's my baby brother. I raised him after our Dad left," Gabriel says, arm curling around Castiel's tense shoulders. His unicorns are fluffy jumper has been since removed to reveal a slim-fitting white collar shirt, blue tie and tight jeans, opposing Gabriel, who wears Sam's ginormous Stanford hoodie, flip-flops and board shorts with little care for anyone else's opinion.
"…you're the barista," Sam awkwardly greets him. "Hi."
"I am not a barista. I was watching you," Castiel replies. "You're…well, you're in for a ride. Gabriel is not one to choose partners lightly."
"Oh, Sammy and I are practically shot by Cupid, Cassie," Gabriel drawls, ruffling his long, dark hair. They look nothing alike, but somehow, with gestures and the way Castiel rolls his eyes just like Gabe, Sam can tell they're related. "Our love's going to be in the history books!"
"Yeah, right," Sam murmurs, but his cheeks are hot. "Totally."
Gabriel plasters himself against Sam, bringing his baby brother along for the ride. "Oh, don't worry, Samsquatch – I've seen it. We're going to blow the world up, together- well, if Cas and his boy-toy don't do it first."
"I will not blow the world up," Castiel immediately replies. "Dean doesn't have that kind of power over me."
Gabriel scoffs, "You made earthquakes alone – and that was when you were little and barely knew what dirt was. They should call the French Alps Castiel's Sandbox for all-"
"Dean?" Sam asks, interrupting and it's the beginning of the end.
Growing up at Bobby's, Dean knew every squeaky floorboard, every creaking step on the staircase – just like how Sam knows every book and every sigil, now, because of the Apocalypse looming over their heads.
"Do you think they're okay?" Dean mumbles one dark night, when lighting and thunder is keeping the whole house awake. Bobby is in his wheelchair reading a book by torchlight – the power having been knocked out hours ago – and Sam has a glow to his eyes, a trick Gabriel taught him for reading in the dark for times just like this.
"Who?" Bobby grunts, "Your husbands?"
Dean shoots their step-father a look. "Stop whining. It wasn't a proper wedding anyway."
"It really wasn't," Sam agrees, eyes not leaving his book. "And they're fine. They'll be home soon."
John, who trudged downstairs ten minutes ago after finally giving up on sleeping, comes through from the kitchen now with a glass bottle of whisky in hand. He offers Dean a glass, who takes it gratefully.
"Thanks, Dad."
"Bobby?" John offers his own spouse, who declines. John hums, settling down beside Dean on the sofa. "More for us."
"More for us," Dean and John clink glasses, not even offering to Sam, who burns right through it these days. Unlike Dean, he isn't afraid of how Angel Mating has changed his makeup, channelling the power of his own soul through his body. He hasn't aged at all since Stanford, since his fourth year when Gabriel got antsy about the demons running around campus – not even taking into account how Castiel would react.
For Dean, it was the best night of his life. It was also the night that Angels from Heaven popped into his apartment and tried to kidnap him, right in front of Castiel, who was rightfully pissed at them trying to take him off to be an Archangel Condom.
John is on house-arrest, nowadays. Bobby and he grew close, that way, after lots of shouting and – presumably – some wall-bumping nights. Gabriel put it this way: if John Winchester says yes to Michael, then the whole world is fucked.
Knock-knock.
It's nearly inaudible over the thunder, but the knocker obviously timed it, trying to get between the rumbles. The whisky isn't drunk, the guns are brought up – and then Meg is standing there, willingly stepping into a Devil's Trap.
"What the fuck, Meg? What happened?" Dean demands, letting her in after confirming it's really her.
The demon snorts, pushing back rain-soaked hair over her ear and discarding her coat over the stair banister. There's a deep slice bleeding down her face and John, who'd grown so very close to her in Hell before the combined efforts of Alastair, Meg and Azazel made him crack, grabs a first-kit immediately.
"A far cry from the rack," she jokes and John's grin is as much a teeth-baring threat as it is a smile. "I remember a lot more guilt-sex and knives."
Bobby makes a much more disgusted face than Sam and Dean. "I don't want to hear that in my house, you hear me?"
"Jealous, Singer?" Meg grins, eyes bright.
A low rumble from John – it sounds like a name, Dean thinks – has her brightness dimming. "Why are you here?" he asks.
"The word got out down below that Luci's going to smite us, when he's done ravaging the Earth. I think it helped that it came from me – a couple of months on the run here was enough time downstairs for the rumour to spread," Meg says, before she bares her wrists. There are scars there that look like sigils. "I'm stuck inside here, boys and Daddy took my powers. He called it torture before leaving me to Crowley, who is a back-stabbing bastard who might show up here, at some point. Lock him up, but don't leave him out in the cold."
"Why?"
"He's one of us, sort of," Meg shrugs. "Also, I want him to be King of Hell after you lock up Lucifer. Then, I can murder him and sort the fuck out of downstairs. It's messy and disorganised and I hate it."
"Good plan," a new voice says and only the bone-deep familiarity stops Dean from raising his gun. "I like it."
"Gabriel," Sam breathes and they kiss, smooching for a moment before Gabriel looks back to their resident demon.
"Honey-pie, you're looking less ugly on the inside. Sure you want the other demons seeing that?"
Meg rolls her eyes and it's in that moment that Dean realises Castiel is nowhere to be seen.
His Grace hurts. Luckily, Naomi is a little less used to Earthen Angels as she is Heavenly. Castiel bends himself, moulds himself into the image she's trying to beat him into – and yes, it hurts. It burns, keeping his Grace contained like it is. His Vessel is burned up in the heat of it and something in him aches.
Castiel recognises it as loss. It's not surprising. That Vessel, hand-crafted for him and changed by him to fit him perfectly over thousands of years is gone. Loss.
Only, he doesn't expect the hurt he experiences, too. It stays there, when he finds Jimmy Novak and asks to borrow his body, sitting in his chest like a physical weight. Gabriel can make a new one that you can change, Castiel thinks, but it isn't the same – it will never be the same.
It hurts.
Jimmy is awoken by it, a lot. Castiel speaks to the soft, homey, husband and father of one he's settled inside, who listens to his woes and comforts him when he cries. Gabriel is no longer on his wavelength – there is no wavelength, not without his old Vessel that Gabriel bound to him, just as Castiel was bound to Gabriel – and Castiel is scared and frightened of what his loved ones will think of what he is doing.
Can't you copy my body? Jimmy asks him. Can't you create another me? You should go home to them.
It wouldn't be the same. You are my True Vessel, not a simulacrum. Castiel explains, adding, and when this war ends, I am releasing you. I am forced to Earth by the Host, who think to use and abuse my powers for their own ends. My subterfuge cannot be discovered until the war is done.
Then I'll go home, Jimmy thinks, wistful. What about you?
Heaven, Castiel replies shortly and he is too bitter.
Too bitter.
Earth is my home, just as it is yours, Castiel says, kinder, but it is already too late. His changed Grace lashes out with his emotions in the wrong places and Jimmy turns inwards, away, hurt by the burning chains around his soul. Castiel thinks of his power – of how Gabriel was so sure he'd blow up the Earth, one day, Dean at his side.
Castiel prays to a Father he's never met, desperate and so very, very alone.
Father, who art not in Heaven nor Hell, please, hear me. Help me. Help us. Help Dean, Sam, Gabriel and Jimmy. Please.
Please.