(I don't own supernatural)
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The first was what most would call a teen, the second only a bit younger, the third created was more of a ten year old in comparison to age relevance. I was an even stranger experiment, created even smaller than the others. Some might say I was the first small child. My older siblings grew to adore me, though not as much as they adored Father. If we had our own human forms, mortals would have thought me a five year old. We aged, slowly, very slowly, with no death date in sight, for we were our Father's companions, his children.
Until we had to fight back against the Darkness, much too soon in our existence, before Father had expected it to happen.
With a snap of Dad's fingers, we grew up. Our wings grew out, our forms got larger, and we were... adults, I suppose.
Perhaps that's why we are the way we are, not having had enough time to learn the lessons that childhood teaches children, since we didn't have enough time to be children. Father had no need for little feet running around.
He needed warriors.
And that's what we would be, standing alongside him, facing the Darkness together, a family of warriors ass deep in a sibling feud between our father and our aunt.
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...
A hand moved away from eyes.
I open my eyes, groggy and confused; I'm spread out on the backseat, using Apollo as a pillow, and I sit upright so quickly Apollo cries out in complaint.
"Amara-" I say, panicking, clinging to Apollo's arm so tightly that it's digging crescent moons into his skin.
"Isn't here," he finished.
"But- but- where's Dad? Where's my Dad? Where's my siblings? Michael!? Luci!? Ra-"
"Shhh, take a moment to reconfigure," Apollo sighed, patting me on the head.
I do, trembling and terrified as my mind catches up. When it does, I scoot away to the opposite side of the Impala's backseat, refusing to even look at the pagan.
"And back to square one, " Apollo sighed.
I've only just made it to the other side of the backseat when the two front doors open and I realize that the Impala is stationary; the Winchesters slide into their seats more gracefully than leopards, closing their doors in unison. I turn my attention out the window, staring at the gas station, wanting to pull my feet up and curl up in a ball but not knowing if Dean would consider it rude for me to have my feet on the seats and I honestly didn't want to risk it.
"You okay?"
I glance over from where I have my head leaning in the window and give Sam a nod, a bit touched that the Winchester cares even though he has all reason to hate my guts. But I wasn't supposed to know that.
"I picked at the lock," Apollo said, "he woke up practically hyperventilating, so it must have been a bad one that leaked free."
"They're all bad ones," I grumbled.
"That's because Amara moved all the bad ones in front to deter anybody trying to get through," Apollo argued, "give me time and I'll reach them. Come back over here so I can try again."
"Perite," I responded.
"Excuse me?" Apollo gave me a baffled look, "if you're going to drop the f bomb, then do it in English or Greek."
I looked him right in the eye and spoke in Latin again, "te odeo, interfice te cochleare."
He stared right back at me, "podex perfectus es."
I really should not have been so surprised that he knew Latin, but him calling me an asshole was not going to slide, "fututus et mori in igni."
"Hey!" Dean scolded, turning around his seat, "Gabriel, I did not appreciate overhearing that comment!"
"Commodum habitus es," Apollo crowed in victory.
"And you!" Dean targeted him, pointing his finger at the pagan, "you cut it out too! We speak English when you're under my roof!"
Sam muffled a snicker, causing Dean to shoot the moose a glare, "what's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing," Sam smirked.
I glanced up at the Impala's roof, "so if I stepped out of this car, I-"
"I will kick you the hell out of my car, I am not even kidding."
I shut up and Dean glared pointedly at both of us before righting himself and starting up the Impala, pulling out of the parking lot. I stared out the window until the gas station had disappeared, then glanced over at Apollo. Grinning internally to myself, I let the warm feeling go through my wings, straining to limit it to Apollo so I can appear innocent. If my wings are going to keep me uncomfortable for this entire trip, then they can keep him uncomfortable for this entire trip.
Apollo shot out a curse at me in Greek, something about eating his shorts.
"That's it," Dean hit his turn signal and swerved the Impala onto the shoulder of the road, pulling it to as quick a stop as possible without hurting any part of his car. Behind us, the Charger eased onto the shoulder of the road, just behind us, and I could make out the confused expressions on their faces, "Apollo, get out before I kill you."
"But-"
Dean whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the pagan's face.
"Fine, I'll ride with the Maples then, though don't think I'm scared of you, because I'm not, it's just that this is my favorite shirt and I don't want a bullet hole in it," Apollo surrendered, opening the door and hopping out. I watched him until Cas grudgingly let him in the backseat of the Charger.
Once everything was settled, Dean put the vehicle in drive and pulled back onto the highway.
I let the warmth leave my wings and moved to the premium spot to be the most comfortable, my wings not bothering me as much as before now that I was the only one in the backseat.
The next pit stop I wanted to take a short flight, but Cas didn't let me, telling me to get back in the Impala (I haven't gone missing EVERY time I wander off, Cassandra, jeez), so I kind of got ticked off about that. How dare a mortal order an Archangel around!? But I didn't want a lecture so I didn't say my thoughts aloud, especially when I was in earshot of Cas.
I was unimpressed with the fact that Castiel and the King of Hell were not there when we got there.
"The Hoppy Elephant," I complained as we moved all our stuff in, keeping to one room for the sake of saving money, "elephants can't even jump!"
"Quit your belly aching."
"So easy for you to say," I scoffed at Sera, "you're not the one that has to sleep on the floor next to this bozo. You get to sleep in the nice, warm bed."
"We can cuddle, you'll love it," Apollo said, grabbing my ass as he walked past and dodging away before I could take his head off, "there, consider us even."
"Sure, come here and let me drug you and give you Ebola, then we're even," I said, "maybe I should load fifteen hundred arrows into you, too."
"I did not give you Ebola and it was only, like, thirteen arrows or something."
"Don't start, you two," Cas said, immediately taking over the bed next to the window and pulling a container of salt out of her bag to line the window with.
"He grabbed my butt!"
"Apollo, don't grab butts."
"But he grabbed my butt!"
"Gabriel, don't grab butts."
I threw my hands up in exasperation but only succeeded in hitting myself in the face with the duffel bag that was occupying both hands, "ow! Apollo hit me!"
"You hit yourself!"
"I will make you both sleep outside, I don't even care anymore," Dean growled out as he walked in the door, dropping his duffel on the second bed next to where Sam had left his. It silenced both of us and I fell into the routine of making the room safe alongside Cas and Sam, setting to work on drawing sigils and traps while they set up salt lines.
"Bellwether," I said, snapping my fingers as the word popped into my mind with a sense of urgency.
"Excuse me?"
"Hmm? What?"
"You said Bellwether, what's a Bellwether?"
"I don't know."
Apollo stared at me for a minute before rolling his eyes, "whatever, fine."
It was as Apollo spread out the bed sheet and started making the makeshift floor bed that I could practically feel the moment realization made him bristle, "wait a minute, I am an Olympian! Why am I the one sleeping on the floor!?"
"Technically we don't need sleep and when was the last time you woke up aching from sleeping on the floor?" I cast a glare his way.
"That's not the p-"
Dean pulled his pistol out and sat down to clean it, glaring pointedly at us. We got the hint and shut up, though I stuck my tongue out at the pagan anyways. I loved a comfy bed too, but motel beds are usually anything but comfy and I was much happier sleeping on the floor than where people have probably spent crappy honeymoons; at least carpet gets vacuumed... wait, do they vacuum the carpet? I glanced warily at the carpet, but figured I'd be fine. The floor gave me room to stretch out my wings and as long as I woke up and brought my wings in before people started walking around and stepping on wings they can't see I'll be fine.
I really hope Apollo wasn't serious when he said we'd cuddle.
"Alright, we'll start looking into the disappearances," Sam said before glancing over in Apollo's general direction, "Apollo, you work on getting Gabriel to remember more."
My head shot up and I almost messed up on the warding I was making but I tried to play it off, turning my gaze back to the ward before anybody could see the terrified expression that I was forcing off my face and I was surprised when my voice came out strong when I spoke, "so this is more than just a family reunion? I can help you guys, I'm awesome at google. You know, being the Angel of Media and all."
"Last time you were the Angel of Media you lost your shirt," Sera grumbled.
"Ah, yes, Loki, God of Memes," Cassandra rolled her eyes, but a smile pulled at her lips, "was that before or after you killed the dragons?"
"God of Memes?" Dean raised an eyebrow, "dragons?"
A grin of relief pulled at my features, glad to have gotten their minds off of getting Apollo to work on my head; the very idea of him coming near my head made me fidgety. I recounted the epic event, only faltering when I got to the killing part, feeling a bit sad at the memory. They had needed to die, but man, had they been magnificent creatures.
"You dropped a mountain on the First Dragon?" Sam stared at me in shock once I was done.
"So all that millions of dollars worth of loot is buried under thousands of feet of rubble?" I could hear the sadness in Dean's voice at the thought, "do you know how much food that could buy?"
"All the pie?" I sighed in agreement.
"Mmm, pie," Dean closed his eyes, savoring a memory of the baked good, "speaking of which, we have time before Cas contacts us to tell us a meet up location in this town. Who's hungry?"
"Me!"
"You don't get hungry, Lokes."
"Do too!"
"Ssshhhhh," Sera complained, "there's a bar I saw driving in, we can go to that place, looked fun."
"Last time I went to a bar I lost my shirt and scared a lady in a park when I started rambling about the apocalypse," I cringed at the memory, "besides, do bars even have pie? I am not a fun drunk, believe me."
"You sounded fun," Sera disagreed with me, "besides, you don't need to drink, Gabe."
"Good, Apollo can work at the Lock on the way there."
Father damn it.
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"Hey, now!" I laughed, somehow keeping my nervousness out of my voice as I ran my hands along the wall behind me. Trapped. I could try to escape, but I still had a reputation as a pagan to uphold, otherwise I would leave this vessel in an instant.
"We won the bet, Loki," the dwarf holding the axe growled out, "your head is ours."
"Ah, ah, ah," I tsked, ducking under the blow he took at my head, "yes, of course you can have my head but I specifically remember not giving you any right to my neck!"
The dwarves looked at each other before one of them shrugged and grudgingly admitted that I had a point. I waited anxiously as they talked amongst themselves, examining my face and neck in an attempt to figure out where one ended and the other began.
"This is obviously neck, and this is obviously his head," one grumbled, but the discussion on that point didn't go farther than that since they couldn't figure out where to cut away.
"For the love of," the one holding the axe growled -huh, guess he's a growler- and his axe made a dreadful thud as it hit the ground and he came storming towards me, "hold him down!"
"Hey, hey, hey!" my silver tongue left me and I could hear the pitiful panic in my voice, "the bet said-"
"We're sick of your wordplay, jotunn," the lead dwarf said, pulling a long, wickedly sharp needle from his bag as they came towards me, "we'll put a stop to that instead of taking your head. Somebody get me some thread."
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I clawed at the thread that kept my mouth shut, but something grabbed my arms and held them down; I could hear a grunt of exertion come from the being as I struggled to free myself. I cried out and a wordless plea escaped me, not muffled by my mouth, oddly, which the dwarves had sewn shut, and tendrils of my Grace moved out in unison to my cry, instinctively sending out cries for help.
"Lokes, open your eyes," a strained voice said, but all it did was make me struggle even more against the two arms pinning me down, "listen to me, Lokes, open your eyes."
I did, running a blurry gaze over the strange, cramped surroundings, and it occurred to me that I could move my mouth. Open, close, open, close. I gaped like a man almost suffocated, gulping in air like it was going out of style. My heart thudded in my heart like a stampede, terrified, panicked. I could still fear the needle going through my lips, the pull of the thread as it was run through and pulled tight, the needle moving on to its next target, the pierce, the thread, the fear, the pain. Stab, pull, stab, pull.
"Bad one?" a deep voice questioned from up front, and an affirmative response came from the one holding me down. The sound of music reached my ears as somebody turned it up; it helped pull me free from the memory's hold and I settled down, though still trembling in terror.
Apollo let go of my hands, but other than moving my hands up to rub at my mouth, tracing scars long since healed, I didn't move.
The laughter of the dwarves still rang in my ears.