A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long, but I've had a very busy week! Here's chapter five! With Sam, Gabriel and Plot Development! Gasp. Next chapter hopefully in a couple of days.
Also I probably going to change this' fic's name. So please be advised that sometime in the next week it will likely become 'I sold my Red Horse (for a Venture Home.)'. It's from a song by Bon Iver called Lump Sum. Iver is also responsible for the title of the second fic in this sequence 'This is my excavation.'
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Poem extract ts eliot . Episode related facts sourced from SuperWiki and supernatural,tv. facts about 5 stages the ever so accurate Wiki.
On with the story.
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Chapter 5
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing
ts. eliot, Preludes
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Gabriel arrives back at Bobby's to the thunk of concaving metal and smashing glass. He looks to the left and sees the enraged figure of Ben among the scraped cars. His hands are clasped, white knuckled around an old gear stick as he attacks with a raw, unquenchable anger.
Gabriel turns to Sam who is very still, standing forlornly to one side.
He sighs. "Shock's worn off then." He comments blandly.
Sam makes a soft noise, low in his throat and Gabriel sees (Sam standing just as helpless and desperate. Behind him there is the scream of metal on metal and a horse cry. Sam closes his eyes and keeps walking.)
Bloodlines, Gabriel thinks, carry a weight and attribute all of their own.
"I asked him, when Dean left." Sam tells him guiltily. "We need to know…how long…" he trails off but Gabriel already understands.
Events are in motion, have been for a while, and they need to get a grip on how long that's been. Castiel's last cannot help them, outside of time as heaven is. They're running by Earth's clock now, by Hell's clock more than likely. "Did he answer?" he asks Sam. "Before…" he gestures towards the incensed teen.
There is a ripple of Lucifer and Michael screaming which Gabriel forces away.
Sam's face contorts. (The blank screen of a cell phone/ Bobby wheeling himself away/ Castiel standing under a burnt out streetlight.) "Mid May." Sam says. "Whatever's going down, Cas thought he needed to intervene a month and a half ago. Who knows how long it would have taken him to get that desperate."
Gabriel grimaces, because it's bad enough news he's bringing anyway, without this on top of it. Sam catches him immediately, in that awkwardly intimate way he has of knowing every flicker if Gabriel's expressions. "What is it?" he asks. (John Winchester standing in a doorway/ Uriel crouching over him/ Dean's face a bloodless-white as he speaks into a phone) "What did you find out?"
Gabriel sighs again, because Sam already looks like someone ran over his puppy and the kid is still smashing cars open ten feet away, and Gabriel had almost had his life worked out a week ago. "According to Crowley, there have been a few of these fires, right across the country. He only knew the exact location of one of them though, the first…Lawrence, Kansas; home of one Jenny Cooper." The property falls between; them burnt and wreaked and painfully familiar.
Sam lets out a startled cry, "Jenny who was in our old house?" (A plump black woman/ a smashed open wall/ Marry Winchester eyes wretched as she whispers an apology.) "Is she…and Richie and Sari? Are they alright?"
Sam already knows. Gabriel can see the Death reflected between them, but this is a human matter. Tangled up in all the Beforeness. Back when Sam was entrenched in Dean and mortal matters, and Gabriel had tried to think of him as tiny because it was easier. Because it was true.
"We need to examine the wreckage. Who ever is behind this may have left clues." Gabriel says in lieu of an answer. It's unlikely, that they will find anything in Kansas. They found nothing in Indiana after all. Sam had been in Indiana when the attack had taken place and they had found nothing.
"Right." Sam replies (John Winchester standing in a hospital room/ A blond woman in a tent/ Adam screaming) "Right, just give me a moment."
Sam turns towards Ben, who is currently mutilating a rusty Buick's forward bumper. The kid's eyes are red rimmed and streaming and his lips are pulled back from his teeth in a wordless snarl. Gabriel thinks he's probably too far-gone to even be aware of them. Certainly so, for any of the reasonable qualities Gabriel noted during his period of shell-shocked acquiesce.
"Ben." Sam says, firm but not loudly. His hand outstretches in a half plea and as Gabriel sees (Dean/ the crack of glass/ a burning corpse) he realizes that these are as much words for the past as they are now, for Ben. Words Sam wishes he had said, but didn't; or possibly did and was ignored. Either way, here he is, speaking across ten years (Earth time because even Gabriel's not sure how long exactly it's been for Sam) to another amid these cars.
"Ben, you need to stop. This isn't helping you."
To Gabriel's great surprise, Ben does.
He's gasping; quick, little, sob-like breaths and his hands are still wrapped around the gearstick, clenching and unclenching, like he can't quite decide whether to listen or not. He stares at Sam and Sam stares back and they are speaking the silent language of humans. One that Ben is still just learning and Sam only half-remembers and Gabriel never knew at all.
"Ben." Sam says again. Gentler now, as a statement of fact, and his mouth quirks in an aborted smile. "It…it's just stage two, yeah?"
Gabriel doesn't understand this, at all, but judging by the painfully comprehending expression adorning Ben's face, he obviously does. He drops the gearstick, letting it slip from suddenly lose fingers and it clatters to the muddy ground.
"The five stages of grief." Ben mutters, as much to himself as to them. "Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, Death and Dying, 1969. Under dispute currently, Yale did a study….But."
He looks up at Sam, terribly vulnerable, with a half-upturned mouth. "I don't think I'll do so well with Bargaining." He says with a shaky laugh, "I mean, you're a fucking Angel and you can't help me. May as well skip it. Get straight to Depression, or hell, all the way to Stage Five. Be well adjusted and shit."
Sam smiles as well. A sad, understanding expression. "Might be better if you do stick it out." He tells him "None of the rest of us could and look where we ended up."
Ben does look at Sam, for a long time and then he says, "I'm going to go lie down. I'm…I'm just really tired."
Sam nods agreeably. "Okay."
The kid shuffles off, subdued. Sam turns away from the scene, back to Gabriel, who's no small bit confused. He's seen this interaction a few times, a few variations of it, over the last couple of millennia. It is as foreign now as it has always been. He raises his eyebrow at Sam, who sighs.
"I don't think you're meant to." He says, "It's just…"
"One of your weird human things." Gabriel sneers, jokingly. (Sam and Castiel's low voices as they huddle together/ Dean flicking the sprinkler switch/ Chuck smiling paternally over his bourbon.) "I get it."
He doesn't, but then again he's never going to. Sam opens his mouth; apology posed on the edge of his tongue but Gabriel cuts him off. It would take to long to explain, that he's really okay in his ignorance, and he doesn't think Sam would believe him anyway. "We going or what?"
Sam looks hesitant for a moment, a trickle of (empty motel rooms/ John walking from away/ Dean passed out by a bottle of scotch.) And Gabriel sighs, "We can be back before he wakes up." He reminds him, annoyed.
Sam nods and moves over to him "Fucking mother-hen." Gabriel grumbles.
Sam smiles a this, like Gabriel was being nice or whatever, instead of the total dick he works so very hard at being. Together they set off.
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As expected, there is nothing in Kansas.
The house is a mess. The bodies have been removed of course but the rest has been left until the police can finish their investigation. Yesterday it rained The freshness mixes into the stench of the sulfur only they can sense, in some horrible parody of cleanliness. Like room freshener sprayed over blood.
Gabriel leans over and pulls a half-burned photo from under a charred support beam. According to Sam, Sari Cooper had been eleven or so when he'd meet her. The picture here shows her at her high school prom, decked out in lilac silk. He puts the picture back down and turns back towards Sam.
Sam is watching him, the small of his mouth ill turned. Close. Closed.
There is a shadow there, the same shadow that lingered in the hushed story Sam had recounted to Bobby two days ago.
There are things within Sam, which Gabriel may have no part. Things, which belong to Dean and Castiel and the memory of human things. Gabriel is okay with this. Accepts this.
But there are also the other parts, the lost parts. Sometimes Gabriel can almost taste their absence. Catches the brief flashes of Lucifer and Michael about Sam's edges and knows that for their presence, some part of Sam must be gone.
Gabriel is a non-complicated creature and an inherently selfish one at that. He likes Sam's place in his life and thus he cannot regret these loses, not when they are the truth behind Sam's Grace, however horrific it may be.
But sometimes, sometimes when Sam has that shadow, that…. Close. Closed. He wonders, about Adam and his endless Nothing. If he is not better off than Sam, always but a hairsbreadth away from being shaken apart by his own dissenting fragments. Little crunches of Human and Grace and Taint jumbled together and never able to be at peace in one another.
Sam is still burning, even away from the Pit, burning every second but it is only occasionally that Gabriel sees it. Only occasionally that Gabriel doesn't regret, but almost wishes he could.
He swallows. Looks away. Remembers how many times this house has been destroyed and rebuilt. Remembers warm beer and Sam grinning.
"Come on." He tells Sam. "Lets get back before your boy wakes up."
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Ben is not awake when they return but Singer is waiting for them. He glares when they enter, hand clenched around a whiskey.
"Boy." He says to Sam. "I get that something big is going down and that you don't entirely know what it is. At least I hope that's how it is and you ain't so foolhardy as to be keeping your gob-shut when I should know things."
"Bobby-" Sam interrupts, but Singer glares at him and he shuts up again.
"I ain't finished. I don't mind ya using this as a base, cause god knows the last thing that kid upstairs needs is some motel room, but god-dam it you've been back two days and I already got bloody demons turning up on my doorstep and that ain't right Sam."
Sam frowns in utter confusion but Gabriel gets an uncomfortably knowing feeling. "Crowley showed up here didn't he?" He asks Singer.
Singer's glare shifts from Sam to Gabriel in a flash and he snorts. "You then. Might have known. Yeah, he was here, talking away in his slick way. As if taking my soul the once wasn't enough."
Sam opens his mouth ad Gabriel can almost already hear the sorry. He nudges him sharply and asks Singer, "Did he say why he came?"
Singer glares at him even harder, but jerks his head towards the table. "Left you a list of the fire locations." He growls, "Ain't nothing connecting 'em as far as I can tell."
Gabriel picks up the list. It is neatly computer-typed and so very Crowley; who fancies himself as an upstanding businessman, rather than literally the demon who inspired Faust.
There are seven fires in total. None of the victims live in the same state or share similar names. There is no consistency in age or sex or anything as far as Gabriel can see. They seem utterly unrelated.
Sam, peering over a shoulder, lets out a choked sound and when Singer and Gabriel look at him he is ghastly pale. "I know. Fuck, I know all of those people." He whispers.
"You're the link?" Bobby asks sharply but Sam shakes his head quickly, face still horrified. "No I… Not me." He says "Dean. They're all connected to Dean."
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t.b.c
Please review? Pretty Please?
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Cookie for Nephtys Rayesh. Parody. Utterly unrelated to rest of story. No offense to anyone is meant. Enjoy, SSACCFS. XD
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It has been two hundred days, five hours and thirty-two minutes since Raphael was imprisoned by Michael's Vessel and the traitor Castiel.
So far he has recounted to himself the old and new testaments a dozen times, Milton's Paradise Lost six times, mentally examined every sacred renaissance painting he has ever seen and sang through the entirety of Jesus Christ, Super Star.
He's furious and unbelievably boarded and a little suspicious as to if there's perhaps some truth behind the Mary Magdalen thing after all.
At this point, he has to assume that Castiel has triumphed, because otherwise by now Michael would have saved him, or Lucifer destroyed him, but either way he would be free of this bloody ring.
Which he's not.
"RafRaf!"
It's been two-hundred days, five hours and thirty-three minutes since Raphael was imprisoned, and it's been three millennia since he heard that voice and that name, but Raphael still closes his eyes in cold, younger sibling dread.
When opens them again, it is to the entirely inappropriate grin on Gabriel's unwelcome face. "Oh Raphy look at you."
"Brother." Raphael answers with as much dignity and gravity as he can. "It has been a long time."
"Yeah." Gabriel sighs in a nostalgic manner, still grinning. "Since that last party at Christ's. Hey Raph-" He asks, "Do you remember that thing with the wine-"
"Gabe," A new voice interrupts "Everyone remembers the wine trick. It's in the Bible."
Raphael swings around to this new intruder and is suddenly face to face with Samuel Winchester, the child tainted with the blood of demons and the vessel of Lucifer.
"Gabriel!" Raphael hisses, "What is the meaning of this! Why are you here with, with this vermin!"
Gabriel frowns "Now Raphy, that's just rude. There's no need for name calling." He says as if he didn't call him RafRaf a minute ago. "And also entirely inaccurate. You can't tell right now, cause the fires messing with your mojo, but Sam's got some spiffy now. He's like, part of the Crew."
For all his joking, Raphael can see the honesty in Gabriel's eyes and he snarls a denial. "Impossible."
"Yeah." Gabriel sighs in mock sorrow "You missed a lot. But hey." He brightens "the apocalypse is over. It looked bad for a while. But then Team Free Will- which FYI, I was on, so YAY me! - Killed off the last of the horsemen and got the keys for Lucy's cage. Course, they only had to do that cause I was dead by then, which really sucked. And Sam dragged Micky and Lucy back into the Cage, which also sucked for Sam. But Dad was really cool about the whole thing. Said we did well and totally bailed us out. Gave Sam his Spiffy and Cas got an awesome promotion!"
Gabriel claps his hands, "Yeah, it's all going great! But then I asked about you and well,"
Gabriel grins again, pure cruelty and amusement intermingling. "Cas was really embarrassed of course. But what with one thing and another he'd just forgotten all about you. Dad was a bit annoyed. Said we had to let you out."
Raphael rushes the edge of the circle, his fury momentarily overriding his sense "Your lying." He growls, "Our father is gone. God is DEAD!"
"Actually." Samuel interrupts, speaking up for the first time in a while "He's in Minnesota. Prefers to be called Chuck now though. Can't think why."
Raphael screams..
Gabriel edges over to Sam. "He's like…seriously pissed."
Sam nods, looking slightly worries "Yeah, we should let him calm down. Get to grips with the situation." He agrees.
Gabriel smiles "Totally." He says turning back to the still screaming Raphael. "Raphy, me and Sam are gonna go. You, need to: Calm The Fuck Down. Now, we'll back in a couple of years. Try to be ready to act like a big person by then, M'kay?" he turns to Sam, not even waiting for an answer "Lets roll."
Raphael keeps yelling for a good twenty minutes after they leave. Then he sits down and takes a deep, soothing breath.
From the outside, the warehouse is almost silent, only a half-muffled warble breaking the tranquility.
"Jesus Christ! Super Star! Do you think you are what they say you are!"
-fin-
Ahem. Yeah.
Jesus Christ Superstar lyrics not mine. Not really much else to say about that…