Written for the supernatural gen big bang.I loved Gabriel on the show and I wish they would bring him back. I'd like to thank silentserendipity for having been my artist and for the beautiful artwork she made for my should be noted that the Hermes character is somewhat based on how Rick Riordan wrote him in the Percy Jackson books, though he doesn't really show up in the fic. All recognizable characters and situations belong to the creators of supernatural and not to me.
This is how it begins.
It begins with a song.
Everything begins in a time so long ago Gabriel can barely remember it, back when heaven still felt like home and his brothers were still a family. When they were not tearing each other apart, not fighting a war that could have no actual victor. This is a time, a world, that nobody actually believes ever existed. At times, more so as life went on, it seemed as though that time, that home, hadn't really been there but mostly Gabriel thinks (believes, knows) that that home really did exist, but only for him. Maybe that's why it was so easy for everyone else to allow it all to fall apart, to give up on fighting for their home, because they hadn't felt it like he did. That is the reason, or one of them at least, he ran, Gabriel thinks, because it wasn't easy for him. But the loss was inevitable and he hadn't been able to deal with it – hadn't been able to just stand there and watch it all fall apart.
It began with a song, which Gabriel will admit is a rather strange way for their story – or perhaps any story – to start, but it did. More accurately, that is the way he remembers it. (Just him though, for the others it all began a different way, after all he was the youngest of the four and they never let him forget it.) It's his first memory and even now – centuries, millennia later – it still manages to comfort him with its soothing nature and yet, for the live of him, he has never been able to recall the actual words. Perhaps that is the most normal thing about him: he had been very small, very young, and too new really, to be able to remember that moment clearly enough to be able to decipher the actual words and he has never, ever heard it again. (He's not even sure the song actually exists, he's not sure someone else remembers it, he's not sure it will ever matter.)
Here is the strangest part about the entire affair: Lucifer is the one who's signing.
He knows this – he justdoesn't actually remember.
Of course all of this happened in the before. Before the civil war, before the creation of humanity – but perhaps not before the idea of humanity had begun to form in his father's mind, he's never tried to find out. Back when Lucifer was still his beloved older brother, back when his brother still loved them all, back when Lucifer still loved Gabriel. A part of him thinks – or just hopes – that Lucifer still loves them all and that that is the real problem (because nobody tried to fight for him.) He's never been completely sure what his older brother felt but he likes to believe – it's the only way he can actually live with all of this – that there is a part of his brother, no matter how small, that still loves them all, that still loves him. It all matters little. Gabriel had accepted, long ago, that his three older brothers would never love him as much as he loved them. They would never love him enough to stop fighting and just listen.
He doesn't know, he never will, whether Lucifer still loves him now, but he knows that Lucifer loved him then.
In the before when Lucifer sang that song the words of which have long since faded.
His first memory of heaven is a mixture of light and peace and beauty and that song.
He'll always remember it – for all eternity – as the most beautiful and peaceful place in all the worlds.
At least that's how it used to be, back then when it was still beautiful and peaceful and filled with love and laughter and family. He still sees it that way and he always will, even though by now he's learned the truth, even though the mirage has faded and all that remains is the illusion and the memory of that time long ago (that may or may not have been there.) Maybe that's why he ran. Sometimes he thinks it's all him, that he remembers it wrong, that all of it was nothing but a dream. And that heaven, the real heaven, has always been something else. That it has always been what he imagines it has become now. Gabriel supposes that it doesn't matter what heaven looked like then or now, all that matters is how he remembers it. And no place, anywhere, is as filled with love and peace as the heaven of his memory.
It's strange, he supposes, because by now he has seen places that almost everyone else would consider better. He has seen all the wonders of the human world – he saw some of them build and at times he believes that humans are geniuses and artists. (And at other times they are idiots.) He has seen the home of the Olympian Gods, with all its beautiful gardens, and he has walked through the home of Odin himself. He has seen the home Aphrodite build for herself – with the help of Ares – and the home of the nymphs; he's swam (though only once) into the underwater castle of Poseidon. He's spending a lot of time in Kali's home – which is the strangest place he has ever seen and yet it's very beautiful in its own way. And they all, every single one, fall short; they shouldn't he knows this, but they do anyway.
It has nothing to do with heaven itself – his perspective of it anyway, whether it was real or not – but with the people, the angels, in it. Because the most beautiful place in the world is the one where Michael teaches him how to swordfight and Raphael laughs at his jokes and teaches him things. It's the place where Lucifer sang him that song and the little ones listened to him and made him feel as if he was the smartest angel in all of the heavens. Because heaven was home back then, when all of it still mattered, when the heavens were still filled with laughter and love.
Perhaps they still are filled with laughter and love. Perhaps if he were to go there tomorrow they'd welcome him with open arms and love him as he loved them. He doesn't actually believe that, of course, but it's nice to hope anyway.
They – the angels, humanity, everyone who talks about it – say (used to and still do) that his Father loved Lucifer the most.
They were right, of course but then they all loved him back then – back when he was all light and love (not hatred and anger.)
That, of course, was in the before.
Now they – the angels, humanity, all who talk about it – will always say that his Father loves Michael the most.
Now everyone pretends like Lucifer had never been there, like he had never been one of them.
Gabriel was never good at not loving people – no matter what they did to him or anyone else. He had, however, always been good at pretending – expect of course he's not really that good – not as good as everyone else was at least.
Maybe that's why he ran.
He was created on the day that someday would be known as Wednesday. Although to be completely truthful he's not even sure about that – it's the way Lucifer used to tell the story, but his other brother's had disagreed (seriously they couldn't agree on anything.) He's not even sure why any of them think about time this way, why they use the days the humans came up with, but they do and that's all that matters. It was Wednesday, though, when he came into creation – at least that's how Gabriel tells it. His brothers might not have agreed on how he was created, but they did agree about something else. Before he arrived heaven was calm and with him came chaos and jokes and laughter. And heaven, as Lucifer used to say, was never the same again.
Sometimes he thinks it's all his fault. That if he had just been calmer and not so chaotic, if he had just been better, than he would have been able to hold onto Lucifer. But he wasn't and he didn't, he just allowed him to slip away. (But then they all did.)
He was very small, very young (a child, really, by human terms) when his father created the earth, but he was there (he remembers.) He stood there the day his Father began the tale that would one day rip them all apart. They stood beside their Father, the four of them, and just watched – he remembers this, though not very clearly, but he knows it happened this way. (Metatron was there too, sitting at their father's feet, he was always there writing down everything that happened, just as he was told to. Sometimes Gabriel forgot he was there and he knows the others did too.) Lucifer was unhappy and he had turned and left after just one day, so suddenly that it startled him. Raphael had gotten bored after three days – actually he'd gotten bored after the first day but he'd stuck around for three though Gabriel's never been sure why. Michael, the big brother, the one who always did as he was told stayed for four (though if you hear him tell it you'd swear Michael had stuck around forever.)
But he'd stayed and watched in fascination as his Father created a whole world beneath them and then filled it with everything. He'd begged to be allowed to help, to do something, to create something. His Father – more than likely having grown tired of all his questions and constant begging – had told him to just go crazy which, in retrospect, was probably not the best thing to tell him. (It's something his Father hadn't learned until much later but really He should have always known.) He'd spend all day on it and he'd had so much fun. His father had been proud (it wasn't until later that he understood that most of that was probably because he had been the only archangel to stick around, and had actually been interested not just pretended to be.) It should probably be noted that all those crazy animals all over the world that seemingly have no reason for existing, and that you think are just a part of your imagination? Yeah, he probably created them. He even gave them all names though he doesn't think his Father used any of them (which was probably for the best.)
Afterwards he'd ran around the heavens, so exited – about the things he'd created and about the fact that his Father had trusted him enough to allow him to invent something. He'd talked about it constantly for who knows how long – the others probably remember – to anyone who'd stand still long enough. Michael had let him babble for a while but eventually he'd grown tired and told him to annoy someone else. Raphael just told him to shut up after a few days. His Father allowed him to talk constantly probably enjoying his enthusiasm. Lucifer had looked him, when he first approached him, with a strange look in his eyes – Gabriel had never been able to figure out what emotion it was that he saw in his brother's eyes. But he'd smiled anyway and listened and never told him to stop talking – even though it must have been terrible for him. He'd pretended he was interested in everything Gabriel told him.
Because Lucifer was the older brother and Gabriel had been too young to truly understand.
(He's not entirely sure if he loves or hates his brother for those moments. Mostly because they make everything so much harder.)
Gabriel had always loved Lucifer the most.
(He still does but he's smart enough not to say that out loud.)
Michael used to say – and he probably still believes – that it was because Lucifer was the only one who had the patience to put up with him. The only one who would always, no matter what, listen to him, even if he disagreed. Raphael used to say that it was because he and Lucifer were so alike. (Gabriel spends years trying to be like his older brother but in the end they had been too different.) His Father, however, used to say that it was because when he was created, so long ago, the first face he saw had been Lucifer's and he had been the one to always care for his little brother. Gabriel's not entirely sure whether it really matters why he loved him.
Whatever the reason he'd follow Lucifer around constantly, imitating his every move – or at least trying to – in an attempt to be just like him. Lucifer had taught him everything – the tricks he used, the plans he came up with, everything. Gabriel knows now that they were not meant to be the same, that perhaps they weren't even meant to get along. Because he'd been laughter and jokes and he'd loved the earth and the animals and even the humans (although, to be fair, in those months he hadn't even thought about them at all.) And Lucifer was anger and hated everything on earth. But back then Lucifer hadn't really cared about their differences. He'd helped with his jokes and listened to his constant talks about the earth and the animals. He had not minded that he had a little shadow that would just not leave him alone. There were times that Lucifer would look at him with a strange far-away look in his eyes and Gabriel thinks – though he's never thought to ask – that somehow Lucifer had always known that it would all end in tears. That they were too different to always get along, that some far away day they would stand on opposite sides of a war, no matter how much they might have wished everything would be different.
Maybe that's why he ran because he was so afraid of the day he might have to fight his older brother.
(He couldn't bear the thought.)
Nobody really mentions how much Gabriel had once loved Lucifer, not since the fall.
(It's easier that way.)
There are things they don't say, things they might not know or things they have chosen to ignore. Like the fact that Gabriel had been the brother that Lucifer loved them most. (He looked up to Michael but it was Gabriel who won the prize.) Because Gabriel had always listened to him and never looked at him with growing distain. Because he had, somehow despite all the warnings, still been caught by surprise when he'd been thrown to earth by their Father. And because Gabriel loved him.
(But that love, no matter how great, would never be enough.)
For the record Gabriel still loves Lucifer the most.
It still does not matter.
On a Friday his Father made him the messenger.
(Probably one of His less than brilliant ideas.)
It should probably be noted that all of those strange messages and all the problems that arose from it were not his fault. It was his Father, after all, who worded them all, and who decided who the recipient should be. Although, to be fair, he had a lot of fun causing confusion and therefore there is a high possibility that most of the problems that arose – and all the misunderstandings – were probably his fault. Mostly because he thought some things would sound better another way, or because he just thought it would be fun. But it was his Father who made him a messenger so really it was all his fault (He really should have known better.)
He'd been terrified the first time his Father decided to send one of His messages.
(A fact that will never be acknowledged.)
His brothers, for once on the same page, were of absolutely no help. Raphael sat him down in his favorite part of heaven – which was Gabriel's least favorite part of heaven. That day, for the first and only time ever, Raphael gave him some advice – the strangest advice ever. He sat there on the grass, after Raphael left, for hours, trying to determine what it was his brother meant – he never did figure it out. He thinks (or he likes to think) that that was the whole point, that all Raphael wanted was to make him forget his fear – and it worked. Michael was different – always the one following all the rules, never questioning anything even if he too, at times, must have been afraid. He didn't offer advice, just sat down beside him and told him just to get on with his job that everything would be alright because it was what he was meant to do. (It wasn't helpful at all, not at the time at least, and yet somehow that advice helped the most.)
Lucifer came after five hours – maybe more, maybe less – and regaled him with the tale of his first task.
Everything that could have gone wrong had apparently gone wrong then.
It was hilarious.
But it wasn't helpful at all.
(Actually it made everything worse but he didn't tell Lucifer that.)
He left in the morning, early, filled with confidence – it lasted about three hours. In the end he got lost no less than three times, delivered the message to the wrong person and then delivered the wrong message when he finally found the right person. In short it was a disaster.
He came back tired and embarrassed and Lucifer stood waiting for him. He'd expected laughter but Lucifer had only shown understanding – and he probably did understand considering how horribly wrong his first task went. They'd sat in Gabriel's favorite part of heaven – the heaven of a young girl that loved to swim in the sea – and they'd just talked. (And laughed and played silly games.) Even Michael and Raphael – usually so detached – showed up and sat down beside him and listened. Later they laughed, later they teased but in that moment they'd been a family.
They'd sat next to the ocean in a heaven that belonged to someone else and for once they'd finally felt like the family Gabriel had always wanted.
For once they'd loved him just as he loved them.
(It didn't last long.)
Most angels think (believe) their Father loves the humans the most.
(Even those that did not side with Lucifer.)
Gabriel thinks – though he does his best to keep his opinions to himself because the one time he did in fact say what he thought Michael had lectured him for hours – that their Father loves them all. The humans and the angels, even those that wronged Him, even those that did not believe, even if none of them can truly understand it, even if He hides His feelings. They never talk about it, they never will, instead they simply say their Father loves Michael the most (and pretend they don't think that their Father loves humanity the most.) It's easier than facing the truth and accepting that even they can be wrong. His brethren will never say what they truly feel; will never show what it is they believe. Perhaps that's why he ran.
There are other whispers too.
Some say "Father loves Joshua the most." Because even now after being gone for so long He still speaks to him. But Gabriel had talked to his Father, had heard the man speak to him at the most unexpected times. He knows what it feels like to have no control over when someone will speak to you; he knows how much it actually hurts to talk to someone that just won't come to you.
Others say "Father loves Metatron the most." Because one day He'd made him the scribe and allowed Metatron to sit at His feet and always be there. But then, Gabriel thinks when he hears them say this, if He loved Metatron the most why did He leave him behind? Why did He not say anything to this angel He supposedly loved the most?
Now they say "Father loves Castiel the most." Because no matter how many times his little brother dies, or how many mistakes he makes, their Father keeps bringing him back. But Gabriel thinks how horrible it must be to never be allowed to reach peace. To always come back no matter how big your mistakes, to always have to face everything. That's not love. (Or maybe it is, maybe their Father only thinks about not allowing Castiel to die and not about the consequences. Despite being His messenger Castiel has yet to figure his father out, just like with Lucifer he doesn't think he'll ever be able to.)
Truthfully Gabriel believes that their Father, despite all that has happened, still loves Lucifer the most. He's just smart enough not to say that out loud.
Metatron the scribe, who sits in his corner all alone ignored by all, who sees everything, knows they're all wrong. All of the angels, all his brethren, trying to figure out what it is their Father feels. He'd like to say it is him their Father loves the most but he knows it is not. He knows because one day he sat where he always sat and watched as Gabriel approached their Father. He was silent – everyone was silent, ever since the fall, but somehow it worse in Gabriel. Gabriel who had always been loud, filled with laughter and millions of jokes was now just silent – it scared him, it scared everyone. So silent was he that day that it took Metatron almost ten minutes to realize his brother had been standing there. (He doesn't actually think Gabriel ever realized he was there, but then nobody ever truly did, it was easy to ignore the scribe at their Father's feet after all.)
Gabriel spoke softly; whispering only 'Father' but Metatron thinks their Father had known he was there the entire time.
Maybe He'd even known what it is that Gabriel wanted. If He did He'd known more than Gabriel himself, because though he talked for a while, softly, Metatron never heard him say what it is he wanted. Their Father was silent, just looking at Metatron's older brother, never saying a word, as if He was just waiting for Gabriel to finish. Eventually He'd turned, looking down to earth, and He'd told Gabriel that he could go, that he was free, and that he could have exactly what he wanted. Gabriel had stayed for hours, just standing beside their father, looking down to earth – almost as if they were waiting for something, though if they were Metatron never figured out what it was. Three days later Gabriel had been gone from the heavens and he never returned and though Michael asked Metatron had never told him what Gabriel had asked their father, though he's not exactly sure why.
This is how Metatron knows that Gabriel was the one their Father loved the most.
Because he was the only one who had gotten exactly what he wanted, and he only needed to ask it once.
The heavens were beautiful but they were also incredibly lonely.
He knows now that he'd been too different, too much for his brothers. (Too loud, too chaotic, too disruptive.) Michael was a follower, always doing what their father asked and never considering, not even once, that there might be a different way. Michael never liked it if everything did not go according to plan. And the truth was that whenever Gabriel got involved nothing went according to plan. (Sometimes by accident but mostly by design, because when things went according to plan life was boring.) But at least he and Michael had still had their moments, it was completely different with Raphael – he's not entirely sure why though. (He thinks it was Raphael's coldness but then it might have also been his own fault.) Lucifer had been the only one to listen to him, the only one to spend time with him but over time he pulled away. He grew colder and angrier as Gabriel grew older. (The worst part perhaps is that they weren't that different, their only big difference lay in the fact that he loved the earth while Lucifer did not. He thinks, at times, that if he had just loved it a little less and Lucifer had just loved it a little more nothing would have happened.)
In the end all of them, even their father, pulled away from him, all of them caught up in their own little worlds.
They left him alone.
(All he had ever wanted was for them to be an actual family, for his brothers to love him and each other. For them to accept each other's differences and learn to live with them. But that apparently had been beyond their capabilities – his wish would never be the truth.)
It was really the little ones that saved him from the boredom and the loneliness – he probably should stop calling them that though. They used to look at him with big adoring eyes and they'd followed him around everywhere, idolizing him – as he had once done with Lucifer. They'd sit in front of him and listened to the stories of his adventures and of all the jokes he played on people. They'd loved him, unconditionally. It had been, almost, as if he was the most important angel in all of the heavens (not all the little angels but that didn't matter to him; it would have been wonderful even if there had only been one.) Little Anna had loved his tales of the humans, always demanding for more, while Castiel had been far more interested in all of the animals. (Even the ones Gabriel himself had created.) Balthazar was there too, listening to the tales, but he seemed more interested in hanging out with his friends (his siblings.) (There had been Uriel following Anna and Innias and Samandriel and others too.)
He'd come home to find them there waiting for him, demanding all his tales.
But eventually they too grew; eventually they too faded away as they all got their own responsibilities.
And he was left all alone again.
(Maybe that's why he left.)
His brothers had never had an easy relationship.
Lucifer had always idolized Michael but they had never been able to get along for long. There had been fights – between them, between Lucifer and Raphael, sometimes even with their Father. Gabriel had always stood on the sidelines, hearing their screams, ignoring their anger. Somehow, despite all his years with them, Gabriel had never actually been a part of any of their fights. (Maybe that's why the end caught him by surprise.) He had been on the receiving end of many "Why did you do this?" and "Can't you ever give it a rest?" and "Seriously, Gabriel, again with the dumb jokes!" lectures but he'd never really been a part of their fights.
He's not sure if his brothers did that on purpose or if it was all just a coincidence.
Probably the latter.
Over time, as Lucifer grew more detached, the fights only became worse and eventually he could no longer deny it (though he desperately wished he could.) It used to be Michael and Lucifer then, louder, angrier with their father occasionally in the middle. Raphael used to just stand there watching them, always clearly on Michael's side – but not really a part of everything. Gabriel hadn't been a part of anything at all; he'd stood on the sidelines and watched it unfold – though he'd missed most of it for the longest time. (At times he was convinced his brother's even forgot he was there.) Eventually the fights were all there was left, they were normality, so common that even Gabriel eventually forgot that there had been a time when everything was alright. (He knows that some of the little ones don't even remember that time.) His jokes and pranks faded, his laughter grew softer but nobody truly noticed – his Father looked at him with sad eyes, as if He at least understood what all of this was costing him, costing all of them.
(The little ones grew too afraid to go near his older brothers except for a hand-few that kept following Lucifer around.)
Gabriel faded into the background.
It was almost as if he had never existed.
It was a Friday in November when he finally grew tired of all their fighting.
He decided that day that he needed some time to himself.
His Father gave him a message to deliver that morning and he'd just left without saying goodbye. He'd hoped that would make a difference because he always took the time to say goodbye – just in case they actually cared. He'd flown to earth and delivered his message – without any problems – and then he'd just stayed. By the sea, a place he loved, staring at the waves that somehow calmed him. He hadn't told a soul, though perhaps his Father had always known, hoping that his brothers might grow worried enough to stop fighting and search for him. They might get pissed later when they discovered it was a joke but it would (might) be worth it. He'd stayed on that beach, looking at the ocean, listening to the sound of the waves for three whole days.
He'd made his way to the gates were the little ones waited.
They were worried, asking millions of questions, trying to determine what had happened. (Anna was the one asking the questions, actually, while the others stood around him.) Michael and Lucifer were still arguing – though perhaps not the same argument, at least he hoped not – in Michael's favorite part of heaven. He stopped a few meters from them and watched them scream at each other, Michael to his left, Raphael in front of him and Lucifer to his right. It dawned on him, then suddenly, that his brothers hadn't noticed he'd been gone, that they hadn't cared about him at all. The disappointment was overpowering, his anger burning just underneath the surface and in a moment of complete stupidity – he'll say it himself because nobody else might – he decided to involve himself in the argument. He'd moved forward, without thinking, standing in between his brothers, trying to draw attention to himself. All he'd really said was 'Hey, I'm back' just to see how they would react. One of them – he's never been sure which one it was and he's not sure if it matters – pushed him, suddenly (they had always been stronger than him.)
He flew backwards, flying through the air, hitting something, though he's not sure what.
Then it's dark.
He wakes to voices, all around, calling his name – and perhaps saying other things as well but he's not sure (never will be.) He thinks he hears Michael, all worried, and Raphael, also worried and Lucifer, almost frantic. He thinks they're asking if he's alright, which would be logical, but then they might have been asking him about the weather for all he knew. His Father's there too – Gabriel thinks He's the one trying to wake him, healing him, but again he might have been wrong. (And he hears the little ones, definitely Anna and Castiel, asking if he's alright, somewhere in the background. He kind of hopes he's wrong about that one because if he's right then the little ones saw all of it and that is not good.) When he finally opens his eyes the world is turning so much he's almost wishing he never opened them again – but then he had to. His brothers are hovering above him – almost like they're flying, which he knows they are not – and his Father is by his side, holding him down, caressing his face. (The moment is sort of immortalized in his brain forever; it's the first thing he remembers when he thinks of his brothers. It's not exactly a happy memory.)
"It's alright, Gabriel, my boy, everything is alright. Try to stay down okay; you'll be fine in a moment."
The thing is Gabriel can't stay down. Because his brothers are hovering above him, all worried, pretending that everything is going to be alright (but it's never going to be alright again.) But mostly because he can hear them, the little ones – and now that he's more conscious he realizes it's all of them, all the ones that follow him around. He has to get up to show them he's alright, that this is nothing more than a silly disagreement between brothers. He needs them to believe that it's nothing –even when it isn't. Because he doesn't want them to be afraid, he doesn't want them to worry, he wants the little ones to be just that little ones, for as long as they can. So he needs to get up, even if the world is turning, even if his head is pounding, he needs to. His Father knows this too, Gabriel can sense it, He wants Gabriel to stay down but He understands this is something that Gabriel needs.
After he's send the little ones of – and yes he knows they didn't buy it, he knows they know this wasn't nothing but it's all he had at the moment – he focuses on his brothers, not because he wants to, but because he has to. They're in shock, just like he is, just like their Father – because none of them ever saw this coming. For a moment, after it's done, he stays where he is and then he gets up and has his Father help him walk away. (His Father was angry at his brothers not a minute ago, he wasn't yelling but he was definitely furious.) They try to help him, tried to get near him but he was done – for now at least. (Sometimes, most of the time actually, he thinks this is the moment he realized it was all done, even if he didn't exactly accept it. That this was the moment he realized that someday he would have to run away or lose himself.)
Afterwards he stayed by the sea surrounded by the little ones (who wouldn't leave him alone anymore.)
He stayed there for three weeks, ignoring his brothers.
They didn't fight for three weeks.
(He supposes that means they did in fact care.)
Everything began with a song.
It all will end in a scream.
But then it doesn't, not really, for the tale doesn't end there at all. It keeps unfolding; their lives go on no matter what happened there that day. But to him – and perhaps even to his brothers, he's never actually asked – for just one moment it really did seem like everything ended that day. This is the way Gabriel would tell the tale – in such a case of course that there was someone who actually wanted to know – and yet for all he's tried he can't actually remember if Lucifer screamed. It seems like the moment he would or maybe even should, but he has no actual recollection of it. He thinks he did, or maybe it would be easier if he did, Gabriel isn't sure. He knows what happened, what the events were that brought them there – standing in Lucifer's favorite part of heaven and sometimes Gabriel wonders if that was some kind of punishment as well or if it was a gift. Still though he could recite the events Gabriel has always felt, always known, that there was something he was missing. (That, in fact, being the actual words, the last moment, the final drop. He's always wondered what exactly it was that finally drove his father over the edge.)
On his father's insistence all three of them had been there.
(Four if you count Metatron, but then nobody really counted Metatron.)
He's always suspected (always known) that his father was teaching them a lesson, proving a point. He's not sure if anybody actually learned whatever it is their father wanted them to learn – he thinks that they learned what they themselves thought was the point. (And maybe that had actually been the lesson.) Gabriel hadn't wanted to be there, he'd wanted to pretend none of it was happening at all, he wanted to be the little ones in that moment, hidden away from the pain. (Or Metatron, on his father's side, just writing it all done. With no feeling, no pain, no nothing. Gabriel would have given anything to be him in that moment.) But he was an archangel, one of the four, his father's messenger, and he had to be there no matter his personal feelings. Sometimes he wonders if his brothers had been as heartbroken as he was, as lost but he doesn't think they actually were – and if they were they hid it well.
Michael stood beside his father with his head held high.
(From that moment on Michael always stood at their father's side.)
There had been no emotion except for anger in his face – though if you looked closely enough you could, in fact, see pain in his eyes. Raphael stood beside him – to his left if Gabriel recalls it correctly – and he had seemed even more detached then Michael. In his eyes there had been no emotions, the mask of indifference was impenetrable. It was scary how his brothers could just shot off their emotions like that, how they could just stop caring if that is what they wanted – how they could make the whole world believe they felt a certain way when the opposite was truth. It terrified him. (Because if they could this now, he thought, how many other times had they done this? What did they actually feel? Did they care at all? Did they care about him? ) And yet he wished he was like them, wished he could pretend nothing matter. For surely that, no matter how cold and calculating would be better than feeling what he does. But then almost everything would be.
Sometimes he wonders what it is exactly that Metatron wrote down. Did he just write down the facts? Did he tell the world what he felt when he watched his older brother fall? Did he describe how everyone reacted? If he did, if he went into detail, then this is what he wrote about him: he stood in the corner, separate from all of them – any further and he wouldn't have been near them at all. He'd been leaning against something – and he can't remember what it was, a tree he suspects, he supposes he could know if he'd read Metatron's words but he's never tried to find out, it is a small, unimportant detail after all. He'd leaned against it because he knew that he would not be able to stand on his own, his knees would not be able to support him. (He still believes that if he had been better than nothing would have happened at all but there is no changing it anymore.) He'd been shaking and crying – though he had been trying desperately to stop the tears. If he had been like his brothers, he'd thought in that moment, than it would at least not hurt that much. (Or maybe it had hurt just as much, maybe they were just better liars then him.)
For him it had been too much.
Too overwhelming.
Too painful.
He'd watched because he'd been told he had too, because it had been his father who had issued the order. (If it had been Michael he would not have come. He suspects his father knew this.) But right before he fell, right before it was all done, Lucifer had looked at him. He's not sure why he did that, not even sure if he did this on purpose – perhaps it was just an excuse not to look at their father and his older brother. Still whatever his reasons, whatever he might have wanted to tell his younger brother in that moment all he had done in the end was shake his head. Only a little, Gabriel had barely realized that that was what he was doing, as if he was silently giving his little brother his final advice: don't watch. And he hadn't, in the last moment, right before; he'd looked down and closed his eyes, trying to pretend it wasn't happening at all. He hadn't seen it, in the end, he'd only felt it. Like something had been ripped from him, like some part of him was dead. He stayed upright, though Lord only knows how, despite his pain, despite his fear. Michael had been furious, because he had not listened, because he had ignored his father's decree. But his father had not been, he'd silenced Michael and just looked at him with a strange look in his eyes. Gabriel is not sure why his father wasn't angry with him. Perhaps it was because he was clearly distraught. But Gabriel thinks it has more to do with Lucifer. Because in his last moments, right before he fell, his brother had found it more important that Gabriel did not see something that would cause him pain than to argue for his life (wings) again. Perhaps His father believed that since Lucifer had done this that there was still some way to save him. Gabriel doesn't really know.
He knows this: when Lucifer proved to be unchangeable, when he needed to be silenced, his father had not called for him. While He and Michael had built the cage and Raphael had watched, He had send Gabriel to the other side of the heavens. To help Anna and her garrison as they prepared for their first solo mission. He's still grateful for that.
That is how it ends.
The story might go on, the tale has not finished it course, but it has ended nevertheless. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing could be the same again. And the song that had comforted him through so much – that still comforts him in his darkest moments – had not managed to calm his heart then, had not been able to drown out the feeling of his brother falling to earth.
He suspects nothing ever would.
Somehow everything seems louder now.
(In the after when it's all done.)
All those little sounds that in the before were drowned out by everything else – his footsteps, his breathing, the whispers of the angels in the distance. He thinks it's because of the silence that now hovers over the heavens – that has been there since the moment Lucifer fell. Everybody is too afraid to be too loud – maybe because they're afraid to do or say the wrong thing (he is) or because there's simply nothing to be happy about (there isn't.) Or maybe it's just him, maybe it's all in his head, maybe it's not really louder, maybe he's just imagining it because of the guilt.
He finds his Father where he always is – at least this is where he always is now. But everyone is pretending now, pretending like there never was a before, like there never was another life. (And there was, Gabriel knows this. Because once upon a time this was Lucifer's favorite part of heaven, but now it's their Father's.) He stands in the corner, staring at the earth below and Gabriel wonders, not for the first time, what it is exactly that He sees. Potential, perhaps, for something more? Does He see the beauty or the destruction? Does He see all that Gabriel sees or does nobody anymore? (These are the things he doesn't ask, these are the things he'll never know.) He should talk now, this is why he came, but the words he thought would come to him never do and so he stands in silence and waits. (He knows now, accepts now, that he was waiting for his Father to speak first because he doesn't think he ever could, not really.) He knows this is the right choice; his only choice, he knows that there is no way he can stay. But then, at the same time, he doesn't think he can actually leave either – it's all very confusing. There are no words for what he wants to say anyway. How could he tell his Father that he could not stand to stay in the home his father had given him? And that he knew, even if he would never say it, that if he left now he would never, ever come back?
But speak he must because if he holds his silence he's the one who'll lose (die.)
"Father?"
"Yes, Gabriel, my son, is there something that you need?"
"Yes."
"What is it; you know you can ask me anything."
He moved then, slowly, to stand beside his Father because that is the only place he belongs now. (Strangely enough his footsteps aren't so loud anymore; maybe it is all in his head after all.)
"I know I can, I just, I don't how to…I mean….I need to go, I guess. Be somewhere else. The silence it's suffocating me and I can't….if I go…."
He knows he should explain better; finally say out loud all the things that have been tormenting him but the words simply won't come. (Metatron – because of course the damn scribe is there – is staring at him as if he's lost his mind. And maybe, just maybe, he has.) He doesn't know what else to say and so he holds his silence, hoping that his Father can hear him after all. (And He always has, as far as Gabriel can remember, He's always been able to hear the things his children could not say. So why should this day be any different?)
"Look down Gabriel, tell me what you see."
"The earth, people, beauty, animals. I'm not sure what you're asking."
"Do you recall when I created the earth?"
"Of course I do and I remember all those stupid animals I made."
"They weren't stupid, they were yours. They were you in a way."
"Well if they are it might have been better if you had not set them free."
"No the world would be a worse place then, everything, everybody, needs some crazy in their lives, my son. Some laughter. You have grown quiet."
"Everyone has, Father."
"Yes, I know."
His Father turned away then, back to the earth, and for the first time in his long life Gabriel fully comprehended how old his Father actually was. How tired. (He'd wanted nothing more than to take his burdens but he could not, nobody ever could.)
"You may go, my son."
"What?"
"Go, see the world, and spread your laughter. Live the life you want, the life you deserve. But remember always that this is your home and that you are always, always welcome here, should you ever decide to return. "
Perhaps this was the moment to thank his Father, to tell him how much he loves Him, but again the words escape. But then his Father had heard him before when he could not say it and perhaps He has heard him now as well. Because he understood more than Gabriel himself did. (He should probably be worried about that.) He knew that, despite the fact that Gabriel was not intending to come back, Gabriel still needed to know he could. He should go, he should leave, and to prepare to go down and live his life but he finds he cannot move. Instead he stands there, beside his Father, looking down below and wondering if He sees the same things Gabriel does.
Later he went to Michael and Raphael but they were busy. (They always are now, they never have time. He suspects that if he were to say goodbye forever they might make time. But then, if they knew, they wouldn't let him go.) Still he'd managed to say goodbye without actually saying it – because he couldn't leave without doing that. (He's not sure his brothers even listened but he knows they understood later. At least he hopes they did.) He'd gone to the little ones then – to Anna and her garrison – and just watched them for days.
"I'm always here," he'd tell them in the end, "I am not that far away, if you need me you only need to call my name. Remember that."
Then, before anyone realized what he was about to do, he flew away from the only home he had ever known.
It was time to leave it all behind.
(He did not even look back once.)
Even if leaving it all behind was impossible.
Somehow, in the short time he had spent away, the earth had changed.
He knows it hasn't, he hasn't been away that long, but somehow the whole thing seems different. He suspects that the truth is that he is the one who's different now. In the before he was nothing but a visitor, only passing through but now he would be a part of it all. (Again, it's all probably in his head.) But then unless he found his vessel, the one who could hold all his grace, he would never truly be a part of anything. (But then he never would be, because he's an angel not a human.) He finds him in a small seaside town – it seems fitting somehow that he would find him here, after all he has always loved the ocean. (One of the many things about himself he doesn't fully understand.) He was young and for a moment Gabriel had felt guilty, guilty that he was about to hijack his life but the man – John his name was (and seriously why were they all named John?) – didn't need much convincing. (Eventually, when Gabriel felt it was time, he let him go to heaven. There are times Gabriel wonders what John's heaven looks like and if the other man would recognize Gabriel if he were to show up there suddenly. But he never will, so he'll never know.) He stayed there in that small town trying to get used to his new body and the world around him, trying to figure out everything. (This is where he met Kali and to this day he has no idea how he ever convinced her he was a God. He wasn't trying, not really, but Kali had felt he was something more and since she did not know about angels she had figured he was a God. And Gabriel had simply never contradicted her. Hell, maybe she'd always known, maybe she just hadn't cared. Not until the end anyway.)
His brothers were looking for him.
(Of course they were.)
He could feel them, in the distance far away, just as they could feel him. Which means they know he is alive, which he hopes is a relief, but that is all they know. He doesn't think his Father told them anything. He doesn't know how he knows but he does, somehow. (He's not sure why He thought his brothers didn't need to know but he suspects the old man has his reasons.) All his brothers know therefore – at least he thinks this is all they know – is that their little brother went down to earth and never came back. He wonders if they're worried, he wonders what they are thinking, he wonders if they hate him now like they hate Lucifer.
(He doesn't want to know. He couldn't handle it if they did.)
The silence is the worst part.
He'd thought it was silent up in the heavens but it wasn't, not really. This is worse. Because in the before he could still feel them all, hear them all. All his brethren, whispering in the back of his mind, not loud enough to be annoying, but loud enough to let him know they were there. But all of that is gone now, there is nothing left. Because the only way to truly hide from his brothers, to truly claim the new life he so desperately wanted, was to cut himself of. And that meant he would never hear them again, unless he opened the connection again – which he knows he never will.
There's nothing now.
It's all silent.
The loneliness had been terrible before, but it is crushing now. Sometimes it almost seems too much, sometimes it seems like he's dying, but he never opens the connection again. (If he did, even for just one second, he would probably lose his mind, if he hasn't already.) Maybe this is why he spends so much time with Kali and her family. Not because he loves her or because they believe he is a God, but because they're loud. Always talking, always fighting, always doing something. Somehow they manage to drown out the silence in his mind, even if it's just for a little while.
He sees Michael once.
He's not sure how long he's been gone by then – he's told himself he won't count how much time has passed since his flight. Because if he did then he knew he couldn't stay away. But one day, in the morning, Michael was suddenly there. Standing in the middle of the small town Gabriel had been staying in, and, for a moment, Gabriel had wanted to run to him and beg for forgiveness. He didn't, he stayed in the shadow and watched as his older brother searched the town. When he was done Michael stared at the ocean with a far-away look in his eyes. Gabriel has always wondered what it is he saw.
(He spoke but Gabriel can't remember what it is he said.)
He stayed there, as if he knew his little brother was watching, for hours, but eventually he left. Gabriel left after him, ignoring the pain in his heart, the tears in his eyes. (Kali asked what was going on, who that was, but Gabriel had lied to her. She didn't seem to believe him but thankfully, for once, she'd let it go.)
It's the last time he sees Michael.
(He never sees Raphael again.)
He wonders if it hurts his brothers as much as it hurts him.
Later – years, decades, centuries later, he has no idea – he woke up one day, so to speak, with the realization that his Father was gone from the heavens.
He doesn't know how he knows this, he'd been cut off for so long he'd actually (almost) gotten used to it. But somehow he just knew. Knew that if he returned to heaven now he would not find Him there, that the angels were abandoned, that it was all over. He considered looking for Him, asking Him why he left it all behind but he never did. (He could you know, he knew how to. There would be no point, after all, in having a messenger if he couldn't find you.) He never did. Clearly, after all, his Father did not wish to be found, clearly He wanted to be alone. (For reasons Gabriel couldn't understand, but then he'd been gone from the heavens for so long he probably knew nothing anymore.) Besides he had run as well, so it's not like he had the right to accuse Him of anything.
He knows where his Father is.
He could tell Michael (even without going back.)
He never does.
(Maybe he should have.)
He's in Greece when he meets Hermes.
(The world was never the same again.)
He'd thought, briefly, about staying with Kali and her family but in the end he'd realized that they weren't what he was looking for. But then, he admits, what he's looking for probably doesn't exist. (After all what he looks for is the before, where Lucifer is home and all of this is, all that happened, isn't even a possibility. But that world has faded, like so much else, and in the end he has to live in the after, they all do.) He'd left Kali – and he did tell her he was going, of course he did, but she hadn't seemed surprised. He thinks that like his Father, Kali had figured out more about him than he himself had done. He hadn't meant to meet Hermes; in fact he didn't want to meet another God, ever.
But he met him and there's no changing it.
He doesn't want to either; he wouldn't want to erase his best friend from his life. (Just like he wouldn't erase his brothers, no matter how that story turned out.) Because for the first time he found what he was looking for, somebody just like him, somebody just as chaotic. (Sometimes he wonders if Hermes brothers – and extended family – ever wished he hadn't been born. Hadn't wished all the chaos he brought into their lives hadn't come. Or if they loved him regardless of the chaos.) In retrospect – and from the point of view of the world – it probably wasn't a good thing that they met. Between Hermes jokes and plans and all that Gabriel had learned, well let's just say that the chaos that Michael and Raphael used to complain about was nothing compared to the trouble they caused together. But nobody seemed to care – of course most people didn't know that somebody was causing all the trouble. His brothers had either given up on finding him or they didn't understand what he was doing, and Hermes's family seemed not to care either. (He loved that family, though not all the people in it, because even though they fought, a lot, they never seemed to drift apart, not really. Not like Gabriel's family.)
Maybe they got along so well because they were both crazy.
Or because they were both messengers.
(Hermes still had to work though, he still had to carry messages around. Gabriel's job had ended the day his Father said he could go. He wonders, sometimes, what his Father does now if he wants a message delivered. He'll never ask.)
Hermes is his best friend, his brother.
It's the best time of his long live.
(At least in the after.)
The sky is dark, the stars shine.
And something burns.
Something falls.
He's staring at the sky when it happens, when he sees it, when he feels it. Somehow, despite being cut of, he can still feel her falling, can still feel her hit the earth. It's Anna – he knows this, because they were his little ones and he would be able to recognize their graces everywhere. It burned in his grace, he could feel her fall, and it was terrible. (This must be what Lucifer felt when he fell from the heavens, but for some reason Gabriel hadn't felt that. He thinks it was his Father that made sure he didn't feel that – it's the most logical thing after all. What he doesn't know, what he never will, is if his Father just made sure Gabriel didn't feel it, or if He made sure none of them felt it.) He's not sure what's happened, he'll never know. He doesn't know if she's like Lucifer, if she has done something so wrong that Michael – for their Father is gone after all – or Raphael have cast her from the heavens. Or perhaps she has chosen this, chosen to fall. (And if she has who is he to call her crazy?)
He tries to follow her, tries to figure out where she has fallen but he cannot.
He finds her grace though.
(There are no other angels around. He wonders if they could feel her fall too, if they could hear her screams. Or if only he could. Perhaps all the other angels were drowning it out. Perhaps he could only hear it because the world was silent for him now. Or perhaps nobody else cared.)
He never finds her.
He wishes he did though, to know at least that she was alright – because he knows now that she didn't fall like Lucifer. That she'll be human now.
He makes sure her grace is alright though.
It's the least he can do.
(He did promise to protect her, after all.)
The first time he meets the Winchesters he doesn't realize it's them at all.
As in he doesn't realize who they're supposed to be. He knows they're hunters and he knows they're looking for him. (Well, they think they're looking for a trickster but the point remains the same.) It should be noted at this point that the whole thing was really Hermes's fault. (But then most of the crazy things in his life now were.) Not that it matters, not that anyone will ever know, but it seems important to say that it was Hermes who decided they should prank people. (Bad people, people that deserved what was coming to them, and he'll admit, freely, that he might have gone a bit overboard at times. But it was fun.) The point is he doesn't realize why they're so important, that first time. He doesn't realize who they are the vessels of. (He wonders, at times, what he would have done if he had realized, if he had known who they would one day be, what he would have done. He suspects it's not something he wants to know about himself. And it's probably for the best that he didn't know who they were back then, in that time before the final chapter began. Then again, it might have also been better.)
The second time, however, he knows who they are.
Or who they'll someday be.
(Who they're supposed to be anyway.)
He'd wanted to teach them a lesson, then. To teach them that they shouldn't love each other so much, that sometimes it was better to let go. Because the love they had for each other would tear the whole apart. (It's a lesson he's never really learned. No matter how much time passes, no matter what they do, he can never stop loving his brothers. And he suspects that if he had to choose he too would sell his soul to bring them back. At least he would if he thought they would care.) The lesson itself – the repeating Tuesday – was a mixture of something Lucifer had once taught him (and yes he can see the irony in that) and a plan Hermes had once tormented him with (long ago, occasionally they also had fights after all.) He'll say this though: killing Michael's vessel over and over again was fun. Therapeutic even. But in the end he always brought him back – because no matter what he said he didn't actually want Dean to go to hell. Not just because hell was no place for a soul like him but because he knew what the result would be. (He's not sure, even now, when he caught on to the fact that Michael and Raphael were trying to start the apocalypse. One day he just realized he'd known for a while. There was nothing he could do to stop it though, even if he had a plan he'd been gone for too long, they would never listen to him. Not anymore – not that they ever did of course.)
He has this feeling that neither Sam nor Dean really got the point he was trying to get across.
But then neither did he.
So who is he to judge?
She comes in the light.
All beauty, and anger, and pain, and sadness. Filled with grief, for the death of the parents that had loved her, for the loss of the live that could have been hers, for everything that she had given up to save those she cared about. Gabriel had been expecting Anna for years, had been expecting her to come to him any day. He'd always suspected that someday she would want to go back to being an angel, to being herself. Because he knows that it is one thing to want to be gone, to be alone, but another to give up all that you are. (It is something he never even considered doing but then he hadn't loved humanity as much as Anna had, even in those first few years. And he suspects her love for them only grew.) He had, however, expected her to come begging for her grace, to come begging to be allowed to be an angel once more. He'd expected her to ask, once he'd restored her grace – which he would do of course- how he managed to hide away, how he managed to make sure that nobody came.
He hadn't expected her to be in pain.
He hadn't expected her to be so lost.
He could feel it, as if it was a part of him. It was the first time, since her fall at least, that he had felt an angel so close to him and it hurt. He could feel her lingering grief over the death of her parents, the hatred she had for the demons and even some of the angels. Her love for Dean Winchester – he'd wondered then, briefly, if she knew who he was or if, like him, she was so cut off from the angels that she'd missed the most obvious point. It doesn't really matter of course, all that matters is that she was there and she was hurt.
He should have stayed to protect her, to protect them all, but for regrets it was far too late.
She only begged for her old body back.
(He would have given her anything, would have helped her with anything, all she needed to do was ask.)
He gave it to her.
She was beautiful, of course she was, and sad, and so, so lost. He wonders, sometimes, if that is how he looked to her.
"Thank you, Gabriel."
He never saw her again.
(He knows she's dead. He knows he's failed. He can feel it.)
For some reason seeing Castiel made him freeze.
He's not sure why though. He had seen Michael – standing in the middle of a small seaside town – and Anna – so lost, so broken, so alone - after all. But somehow it was Castiel that made everything stop, that made him feel like a true failure. Maybe it was because Michael hadn't seen him and Anna hadn't truly cared. Maybe it was because Castiel hadn't understood what it was that he was caught in. Or maybe, more likely in fact, it was because he had finally accepted that before he could let it all go, before he could move on, the story needed to be finished. (Now that it had started, at least, they had no choice. He should have gone with Anna, he knows this now, should have gone with her to stop the seals from opening, and he should have made sure Lucifer could not escape the cage. But there is nothing he can do to change the past, he has to live with what he has. And what he has, what they have, is an escaped Lucifer, an angry Michael, and two brothers too stubborn for their own good.)
Or maybe he's just shocked because Castiel actually came to save them.
(He shouldn't be though because Castiel had always been close to Anna. And Anna had always loved humanity. So much, in fact, that she had become one of them. So of course Castiel would try to save the humans he cares about, of course he would. Gabriel is proud, because the little ones - at least these two – are braver then he has ever been and ever will be.)
Still he can't have his little brother messing with his plan. Because he has a plan (it's the only one there is left because there is no way to stop it anymore, no way at all.) This time they will get his point, this time they will accept their paths in live – he wishes things could be different, for all of them, but he has finally accepted that live is just the way it is. (If he had stayed perhaps he could have slowed it down – not stopped it though, never stopped it. If his Father had stayed He could definitely have stopped it. But then who is he to judge?) He has to admit that it's fun watching the brothers make their way through every TV show and commercials that Gabriel can think of, even funnier to watch his little brother attempt to do it (because at least the Winchesters know what they are supposed to do.) Castiel is different though, like Anna, no longer the little one he had so loved, that had looked up to him so much. (He thinks that they no longer do, he never deserved it anyway, he was never who they thought he was. Never that brave, never that good, never that important.)
He puts him in a show about animals, just to see what Castiel will do.
He cares for them like they're all that matters.
(He's glad some things haven't changed.)
But the look in his eyes when he realizes that it's Gabriel messing with them is horrifying. That his big brother has always been within reach, but that he had just chosen no to get involved in the whole affair. (But then, they never called, he told them they could but they never actually did.) It's a look filled with betrayal and anger and, worse of all, disappointment. It's the look he had in his eyes, it's what he felt, when he finally realized that Lucifer was not who he thought he was. It's the worst feeling in the world, it's the worst thing Castiel could have given him. (He wonders if Lucifer felt this way when he looked in his younger brother's eyes. If he did it never mattered.)
He tells his little brother their Father is dead.
(He is not, Gabriel would know if He was.)
He doesn't do it to hurt him, doesn't to do it to make him angrier (not that he could.) He does it because this search will bring him nothing but disappointment and he wishes to spare him that. (The younger angel doesn't listen, of course he doesn't, why would he after all?)
Before he leaves, as the flames die out, Castiel looks back and for one moment, just one second, he looks like the little angel he had once been. The little angel that used to sit as his feet and ask him questions. The little angel that was innocent.
He isn't not anymore.
But then none of them are.
(If they ever were, of course.)
"I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my brothers kill each other, thanks to you two! Heaven, Hell, I don't care who wins! I just want it to be over!"
"This isn't about a war, it's about two brothers who loved each other and 'betrayed' each other!"
"You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?"
"No. We're not. Because we 'don't screw' with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about 'you' being too afraid to stand up to your family.'
Maybe Dean Winchester is right.
Maybe it's not inevitable, maybe it has never been. It is something that he has always suspected, always wondered, that if he had just opened his mouth and said he what he thought all of it could (might) have been avoided. But then it's easy to think that when you don't know what happened, when all you have are small snippets of the truth. Hell, Gabriel saw it all start, he saw the entire story unfold – until he left anyway – and he still doesn't know what the hell happened. He does know, even if he'll never accept it, that sometimes there is nothing you can do, no matter how much you wish you could. You can't change people – their minds or otherwise – if they don't want to be changed, if they don't want to listen, if they don't want to let it go. (If he could he would stop them, convince his brothers they love each other, that this fight isn't worth it. But it's too late for that, perhaps it has always been.)
He resents Dean Winchester in that moment.
Because it's easy for him. He only cares about the world, about his family. To him this entire thing is a fight between two angels that he doesn't even know. He doesn't care, he doesn't know, he isn't even really a part of the story after all. But to Gabriel it is so much more, these are his brothers, these are the people he loves. (This is Lucifer who sang to him and Michael who taught him things.) To choose between them, if he cared to choose at all, would be excruciating. It's easy for Dean to say all this when he doesn't have to think of actually killing his brother – as long as he says no it will all be alright for him after all. It's easy for him because it's not his family.
One of his brothers, perhaps both, will die.
He will truly be left with nothing, no matter what the outcome of the fight.
This is why he ran.
Because he loved them, because they were his brothers, because he wanted them to be happy, he wanted them to be free. But he knew they wouldn't, couldn't, be. He knew that someday he would have to choose on which side he stood, he would have to choose who he thought was right, and in the end he would lose.
He couldn't bear the thought, so he ran.
(Maybe this is why his Father ran too, because He couldn't bear the thought either.)
He knows it will end soon, though, and he will watch one of his brother's die.
(Knowing they think Gabriel hates them all.)
He wonders how Dean Winchester would deal with this situation.
He wouldn't, of course, if memory serves this entire thing started because Dean couldn't deal with his little brother being dead. But he expects Gabriel to deal with it. And not only deal with it but choose a side and be a part of his brother's end.
But Dean Winchester doesn't think about it like that.
(He never will.)
That's okay. If he did he wouldn't be able to do what he has to.
(Gabriel doesn't blame him.)
Besides he's right.
The house is small and a complete disaster.
Somehow, whenever he thought of his Father hidden away from the heavens, he'd always expected him to live in a grand home. Like all the other Gods he has met, like all the people that mean something that decide it's better to hide away. (Perhaps he's just spend too much time around other Gods.) He doesn't know, nor does he ever ask, why it is his Father has chosen to hide here, of all places. It's not like it really matters. Michael would never think to look here – and maybe that was the whole point. (Wasn't that, after all, one of the reasons that he spend so much time with the Pagans? Because they wouldn't think to look for him there? Then again, they never thought about looking for him with Hermes either and that should have been obvious.)
For a while he just stands there, staring at his Father's back – who's looking out the window – just like so many centuries ago when he asked to leave the heavens.
His Father knows he is there.
(Of course He does.)
Gabriel suspects He even knows what Gabriel wants to say.
He's not here to judge or accuse.
(He doesn't have the right.)
Besides even if he wanted too, he wouldn't. His Father is the one in charge, He knows what it is he is doing – at least Gabriel hopes He does. It is silent in here, maybe it isn't, maybe it is like so many years ago all in his head. It doesn't matter, it never did.
"Father."
"Gabriel, my boy, why are you here?"
"You said I could always come back, that there would always be a place for me by your side."
"There is, is that why you're here? To be allowed to come back?"
"No."
"Then why did you come."
"I know you know what's happening, and I know you have your reasons for staying out of it. I suspect they are the same as mine. I am not here for them. I am here for Castiel."
"Castiel?"
"He is looking for you."
"Yes, I know."
"You should let him know you don't wish to be found, you should…He shouldn't be looking for you, if all it will do is break his heart. Let him know you don't care, he'll be disappointed, but it will be worse if he finds you only to be told in his face that you don't care."
"Of course. Is that all?"
"Yes."
He's tempted to stay, just for a moment, to stay here and ignore it all. To stand by his Father and watch the earth forever, but he can't. He's not that little angel that wanted to create animals anymore, nor is he the older angel that just wanted to get away. He never found the life he was looking for, but then, he doesn't think that life truly existed. And he thinks, worst of all, that his Father always knew that.
He will not be staying this time.
(Metatron isn't here, of course he isn't, which is strange but at the same time it is not. Everything is different after all.)
"Goodbye Father. I love you."
"I love you too, my son. And so do your brothers."
"Do they?"
He doesn't wait for the answer, because he knows what it is and he doesn't want to hear it.
He knows what he must do now.
He must finally make his choice.
Or, more precisely, he must accept and act on the choice he made eons ago.
"Lucifer, you're my brother. And I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks."
This is the moment he's been dreading all his life.
Standing before his favorite brother knowing this is the end, knowing that no matter what comes next his choice will finally be part of the story.
He won't survive this time.
(He doesn't want to.)
Because the one thing he wants to avoid is watching one of his brothers die.
Maybe Lucifer knows that.
"Look at yourself! Boo Hoo! Daddy was mean to me, so I'm gonna smash up all his toys."
"Watch your tone."
"Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Time to grow up."
And there it is, finally the truth.
Their Father had loved him – still loves him – the most, Gabriel accepted that a long time ago. But either Lucifer hadn't cared or he hadn't known (he's not sure which one would be worse.) That's the worst part: Lucifer had the one thing all of them wanted and he threw it away. Maybe he hadn't known what to do with it or maybe he just hadn't known how to share. Because the thing is Gabriel still doesn't understand Lucifer's anger, hatred towards humanity. All he can think of, all he can accept really, is that it was because their Father loved them.
He wanted them to love humanity more than Him.
Lucifer hadn't wanted to.
(Neither had Gabriel, but he'd bowed when he was asked to. His Father had known, of course, but Gabriel doesn't think He cared. He just wanted them to protect humanity, even if it was just a duty. At least that's what Gabriel thinks.)
He should have just accepted the way things were.
If he had they wouldn't be here.
(But then in retrospect everything is so much easier. In retrospect different choices are the right ones. But then it's easy to make the right choice when you know what the outcome will be.)
"Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael…"
"Screw him. If he were standing here, I'd shiv his ass too."
It finally occurs to him – and really he should have realized this before – that Lucifer doesn't know he ran.
He doesn't know all that had has happened, he knows most of it, but somehow he has missed what Gabriel's choice was. He thinks Gabriel stands with the others, that he always has.
Here is the truth: if the world wasn't involved, if humanity wouldn't fall, if it was all just a huge fight between his two brothers and if it all wouldn't end in the death of one of them, if all of this wasn't the end of all he had ever known, then he would have chosen Lucifer. He would be standing by his side.
But that is not how the story goes.
And so Gabriel never says that out loud and nobody truly knows.
(Their Father knows, but then their Father knows everything.)
"You disloyal –"
"Oh, I'm loyal. To Them!"
"Who? These so called Gods?"
"To people, Lucifer. People."
"So you're willing to die, for a pile of cockroaches. Why?"
"Because Dad was right. They are better than us."
"They are broken. Flawed! Abortions."
"Dam right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. I've been riding the pine a long time. But I'm in the game now, and I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs."
And this is the fundamental difference between them.
This is what drove them apart, and this is how Lucifer had somehow always known it would end. At opposite sides of a war, blades drawn, with only one survivor. Long ago, when he was young, Lucifer would look at him with a strange faraway look in his eyes. And it is only now, standing here, that he finally understands what the emotion actually was. It was pain and anger and fear and loss.
He had always known.
And the truth, the truth is so had Gabriel. He just hadn't accepted it.
They were always too different to get along.
(And now they never would again.)
"Brother, don't make me do this."
"No one makes us do anything.
"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel. But I know where your heart truly lies."
He wonders what life would have been like if he had been just as cold as his brothers.
(Or at least just as good at pretending he was that cold.)
He is reminded, in the moment his brother begs him not to allow him to do this, of that moment so long ago, right before he fell. When Lucifer's whole world was being ripped away, when his brothers hated him, when his Father was punishing him. Back when Lucifer could have still talked himself out of it, back when he could have still repented. (Because the truth is that no matter what Gabriel believes or wants, his brother can no longer be saved. The story has been written down and too much has happened, too much time has passed, and nothing could be changed anymore. Maybe that's why his Father is staying out of it.) Back then all that had mattered to his big brother was to make sure that his little brother, his youngest brother, didn't look when he was cast down. Because the most important thing was to spare Gabriel the pain of having to watch his brother fall.
He wonders if Lucifer remembers that, or if he has forgotten that once upon a time the most important thing to him was not his own life or his anger, but his little brother.
It doesn't matter.
(He wonders if Lucifer would have let him run if he had attempted to. He likes to believe he would have.)
Even now he still loves Lucifer the most.
He suspects that Lucifer doesn't know – that he never has.
The last time he saw Kali she was scared.
Scared and she had looked at him with a mixture of guilt – for what she had done – and grief – for she knew she would never see him again. Gabriel had wanted to say so much to her. He wanted to tell her how much he had loved her, and how much she had given him in those years they had been together. He wanted to tell her that it was all alright, that he knew why she had done what she did, that he did not blame her. He wants to tell her it is all alright, to hide as well as she can, and never come up for air again. Because the next time Lucifer will kill her. He doesn't say anything, he just saves her life. He hopes that tells her all that he had wanted to say.
Even if he had lived he would have never gone back to her.
The last time he saw Hermes had been by the sea (of course it had been.) They had just finished some prank – a prank that now seems so stupid – and Hermes had gone off to speak to the other Gods. Gabriel had just decided how he would trap the Winchester brothers, how he would make them say yes. They hadn't really said goodbye, they hadn't imagined that would be the end. He'd never considered he wouldn't' see his best friend again. He wishes he could send him a message; tell him how much he loves him, how grateful he had been to know him. How much he learned from him, how great they were together. He'd told Hermes, right before he left, "I'll see you later."
He never would.
"Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."
Long ago, in a time Gabriel barely remembers, it all began.
And it all began with a song.
(Of all things.)
For Lucifer it ended with a scream. It ended with a fall. It always would, Lucifer's story no matter who tells it, no matter how much time passes, will always end with a fall.
But for Gabriel it ends in silence.
It ends with his own blade in his heart, it ends with his brother placing a hand on his cheek. There is a look in Lucifer's eyes – a mixture of anger, and hatred, and pain, and regret, and love. Gabriel wants to tell him that it's okay, that once he had accepted what he had always known, he had known that this is how it would all end. (Just like Lucifer had.) That he doesn't really blame him. That he loves him despite it all. He doesn't, of course, because there is no time, none at all.
Gabriel doesn't scream in the end.
He doesn't even try to say something.
He just looks at his older brother – he never knows what Lucifer sees in his eyes.
(Long ago, in the before, his Father used to say that the reason he loved Lucifer the most was because when he was created the first face he saw had been Lucifer's. If this is truth, and he has no reason not to believe it, then there is some sort of logic to the fact that Lucifer's would be the last face Gabriel would ever see.)
Gabriel wants to hate him, now more than ever, but he can't.
He loves him. That will never change.
He hears that song in the distance, comforting him as he slips away.
He wonders if Lucifer can hear it to.