Title: Shattered Windows and the Sound of Drums.
Author: Yawwi
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, Coldplay, or any other copyrighted works that may or may not appear in this in the future.
Season: 5 & 7, AU from Slash Fiction.
Pairings: There will possibly be Sam/Gabriel Slash, it'll depend on what people want to see really, and if people are even interested.
Summary: Gabriel's alive! He wakes up confused and alone at The Elysian Fields hotel with no memory, and takes it from there, surviving but not living, until he runs in to an old friend at a bar. Meanwhile, Sam's just found out that Dean killed Amy, and is alone again, unable to even look at his brother.
Author's Note: Okay, well, after getting yet another subscriber for my other (really really crap story), I got inspired to write a new one. Honestly, that story hasn't been updated in about 19 months, and was terrible to begin with. Anyway, I just had this idea and wanted to write it. It is not meant to resemble any other work previously created (although with this many stories online it probably will). Also, fair warning, updates will not be regular. I have exams coming up in January and other RL obstacles.
P.s. There is a timelag between Gabriel dying and waking up, it will be explained later on.
He woke to something dripping on his face. The side that was pressed downwards was wet where it met the ground. As he became more aware he realised that the clothes he was wearing were damp. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bird singing. He rolled over and sat up, groaning as he pushed his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything hurt, he couldn't remember a time when something didn't hurt.
Blearily he took in his surroundings. He was in a valley, dawn had just broken, and a light mist was hovering above the earth, just starting to clear. There were fowers and greenery everywhere, and huge birch trees on the higher planes of the valley. He was sitting underneath a sap, one of the first to breach the lower layers, and he could see a fox dissappearing into the treeline at the opposite end of the small clearing.
Slowly he pushed his way to his feet and shoved his hands into the pockets of his damp jeans. He hadn't changed them in weeks, maybe months. He didn't care anymore; he'd lost count of the days that had passed since he'd awoken, alone and cold, in a run down motel in the middle of nowhere. He had no memory of what had happened before. No indication of who he was, or even what country he was in. He knew the basics: breathe, eat, sleep, that you need money to do most of these things, and that was about it. He was grateful for the small shower that must have happened while he was asleep; at least he was clean now, even if he was wet and cold.
He'd spent the weeks hustling pool and counting cards in poker (which he seemed to have an affinity for) in dodgy bars, getting enough money for a warm meal, but not enough to get caught, and unfortunately not enough for a room for the night. He either hitched rides between towns, or walked there. He never really got tired, and hadn't yet gotten ill from sleeping rough. He remembered crashing in the valley the night before when he'd been walking along another road, but didn't reach a town before nightfall.
The road wasn't far from where he'd slept, and he'd make good time since he woke early. He took a quick drink from the flask he'd always had with him, and headed on, determined to reach another town soon; he'd been walking for a few days now, eating what little fruit he could find, not daring to kill any animals (he told himself it was incase they had a disease, but whenever he had enough money to buy a meal it would never have meat in, he prefered to have lavish desserts anyway).
Heat scorched down on his head as he walked, and the sun was high in the sky before he saw the first signs of a town, smoke billowing in the distance. The sunlight caught in his hair, making it glint in gold streaks, matching the colour of his eyes, and surrounding the top of his head in an almost-halo.
He reached the center of the town in the late afternoon, and headed straight for the first bar he saw, the doorchime clanging softly, barely heard over the sounds of life within. He slipped on to a stool at the end of the wooden bar and waited for the bartender to turn his way, he was in no hurry; there was plenty of the day left and he still had enough money to last for a few more meals.
"What can I get you sir?" The bartender had a polite voice, but even from that short sentence it was clear he was the sort of guy that shouldn't be fucked with. It was impressive.
*Author's note: Title is from Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida', because the idea of Gabriel sleeping rough and having to steal money to eat reminds me of the 'Once was great then fell so far' idea, which is how I take the song, it is unlikely that the themes of the story will reflect songs from hereon out. Also, I'm British, so I'm really sorry for any phrases/words I use that aren't American (e.g. I might use 'Jumper' instead of 'Sweater').*
P.p.s. WHEN DID GLEE OVERTAKE US? WHAT WITCHCRAFT IS THIS? Srsly ppl, we need more stories. Prepare for the onslaught of one shots :D 200 stories ahead? I can do that :D.