The stale air in the cell bothered Gabriel more than it should. He didn't have to breathe it, but he could feel it all around him. It felt thin and, well, stale.
He used to be able to turn that off too, but judging by his current situation, he couldn't do much at all anymore.
The other entities in the building were demons. He could feel every single one of them. They gave him a headache. Well, they worsened his headache.
The wards were the real kicker. Gabriel recognized them, of course he did, he'd helped make them.
At the time it had been a protective measure against corrupted angels, created by all four Archangels together. As it turned out, they were fit to Archangel standards and would mercilessly destroy an ordinary angel. Gabriel was the only one who saw a problem with that, and it was he who put in extra effort to tone them down to simple banishment and concealment wards.
The original was later buried deep into the molecules of the Cage, along with Dad's power, to keep Lucifer locked up.
For obvious reasons, his cell did not have the power of God embedded into it. Not that it mattered. He wasn't getting out of this pickle anytime soon.
He was lucky he wasn't human enough to need nutrition. Gabriel didn't think the demons would've brought him anything.
Those sons of bitches didn't even dare to approach the cell.
He couldn't be sure of how much time was passing, but it felt like it had been a day, two days at most. Asmodeus hadn't shown up again after Gabriel had woken up. It was torture to sit here and have to wonder what they wanted from him. Or what they were going to do to him.
The cell itself had plenty of weaknesses, it was the warding that didn't have a single gap to exploit. All the gaps Gabriel could possibly think of had been fixed eons ago, by himself and his brothers. It was even hidden from angels and demons alike. They shouldn't be able to sense the warding or whatever was inside even a little.
Gabriel, in his mind, cursed himself and his brothers for being perfectionists. Then cursed Lucifer even more so for apparently feeling the need to pass the warding on to his creations.
He could feel every single demon in the building, every prescence, and if he extended his reach far enough he could feel the faint echo of angels on earth. There weren't too many, as would be expected. Though, Angel Radio was suspiciously quiet. There were angels on it, of course, but it somehow felt smaller, emptier. Gabriel dismissed it as content silence.
Obviously those Winchesters had actually stopped the apocalypse, he'd feel it if the world had been half destroyed. He had to applaud them for that feat. Strange that his siblings weren't throwing up a fuss about it, though.
Gabriel put that aside for the moment and focused on the just-barely-there feeling that had been nudging at him subtly for a while. Something, somewhere, was wrong, or... different. It was the kind of feeling that you doubt is even there half the time, and Gabriel had no idea what would be different. He didn't even know what he was subconsciously comparing it to.
Gabriel threw himself back on the small cot with a dramatic sigh, resigning himself to his fate for the moment.
"Any chance a guy could get room service in here?" He called in the general direction of the solid steel door, not expecting an answer. "'Cuz you know, this really isn't the five star hotel I signed up for. Customer satisfaction, people!"
His words rang out in the silence. Gabriel tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
There was nothing he could do. Yet.
If he had to guess, Gabriel would say a week had passed before he got a response to his continued one-sided conversation.
His head shot up as he heard the steel door creak open with difficulty, immediately calculating the chance that he could exploit the temporary weakening in the warding in time-
"Don't bother," Asmodeus said, shutting the door behind him with a smug air that made Gabriel wish he could punch the guy in the face. The only reason he didn't try was because a powerless Archangel versus a Prince of Hell was not a good match. He couldn't even properly lift his hand to stab him in the heart, if he even got the chance to summon his Blade.
"Asmy! So good to see you again," Gabriel crowed, enjoying the disgusted expression the former adopted at the nickname. He would've liked to stand up, but it was hard to do with the short, heavy chains around his wrists.
He'd heard about the guy listening into Angel Radio. He was supposed to be a pain in the ass, but not strong enough to win against even a dozen angels at once and certainly not supposed to know Archangel warding.
"Gabriel." Asmodeus responded dryly. "Let's skip the pleasantries. You have something of mine." Asmodeus leant forward slightly, and Gabriel could smell his breath. He stared back hard, not knowing what he could possibly have that belonged to the Prince of Hell, but not about to give that away.
"Or well, it's not mine yet." Asmodeus laughed mockingly, twirling something around between his fingers. "But it will be soon. Now..."
The motion stopped and Gabriel saw with trepidation that Asmodeus had a gleaming Angel Blade in his hand. How...?
"...magic up your little Archangel Blade, won't you?"
A/N Sorry that it took so long, guys. I've been ill the last few weeks and apparently I should have "no screens when you're ill, you won't get any better from them!"
Yeah, I'm slightly salty at my mom. Don't expect quick updates for now, Kay?