It'd been a long time since the archangel Gabriel had felt rage like this. The last time he could remember being this angry was the day his children had been cast out. The rage he'd felt then had almost leveled some parts of Asgard before he'd managed to get his archangel side under control. His whole cover had almost been blown that day. It was the last time he could remember feeling this absolutely furious.
Right up until he'd discreetly poked his head around to check on his two favorite chuckleheads.
He'd gone there thinking that he'd just check in on them as he'd done many times since he'd first met the two. They fascinated him; Sam especially so. For someone who had been dicked around by Heaven and Hell for longer than he even knew, the kid still had so much damn faith. It was amazing and sometimes just a bit humbling. Sam had messed up quite a lot in his life; he'd been pushed there, of course, nudged down a road he hadn't understood. But he still somehow held on to his faith that things would be okay. That somehow they would find a solution to this and make it better. He was full of self-loathing and guilt, but he was fighting. Gabriel had to respect that. Sometimes he'd admit to himself that he respected Dean a little bit too. The Righteous Man had been pushed hard as well and, despite a few dickhead moments, he was doing his damndest to win this thing. He was fighting.
Gabriel was seriously rethinking his respect for either Winchester right now.
With the knowledge he had of them, it hadn't been hard to track them down to Singer's Salvage. The wards there were good—just not good enough. Not for a Trickster who was used to getting around things.
When he slipped inside, he'd figured on checking on the boys, maybe poking at Sam to make sure that Lucifer wasn't haunting the sasquatch's sleep too much, and that would be that. His curiosity would be satisfied and maybe he could quit thinking about the two idiots and go back to his own tricks. What he found had been so much more.
Somehow Gabriel managed to hold on to his calm as he looked at the fledgling in his bed. This…he'd never expected this.
Once he'd seen the half-starved, broken fledgling curled up on the floor in that room, there hadn't been any real choice there. Gabriel had always loved helping out with the fledglings upstairs. He'd spent plenty of time helping to care for them, to teach them and play with them. Children were always a soft spot of his. Seeing this one in such condition was almost enough to make him break his cover and show those idiots just what happens when you truly piss off an archangel.
A rational part of his mind told him that they probably didn't even realize what they'd had there. Much as he kept using terms like 'kid' and 'fledgling' in his head, by human standards the little one was a full grown adult male. The hint of a soul inside of him said that he wasn't a full blooded angel—but the amount of grace said that he wasn't human, and he wasn't a nephilim. Gabriel knew nephilim intimately. Better than any of his brothers or sisters. Nephilim were powerful, yes, dangerously so, but they were an almost perfect half and half of human and angel.
This kid…Gabriel would put him at about eighty-five, almost ninety percent angel. Only once before had Gabriel ever seen something like this. It'd been when two angels had mated while both in vessels. Their combined grace, but the souls and bodies of the vessels, had made something that was more than nephilim, less than angel.
But that one, and other nephilim, had all had their powers from birth. This one? If Gabriel hadn't been able to see his physical body, he would've put him at, at most, eight months old. How was it that his grace was so young—young enough that his wings hadn't even really grown in yet!—and yet he had a physical body that looked to be in its twenties?
That was just one of many questions that Gabriel had. He could've reached out and looked into the little fledgling's mind and sought out answers that way but the way the kid had reacted to the touch of his grace before told him that that might not be a good idea. He'd pulled back from Gabriel's grace like it was going to burn him. That right there was even more devastating than the physical condition the kid had been in. Fledglings usually sought out the grace of other angels. Up in Heaven where they weren't confined by vessels, their true forms took on a shape but they were still made entirely of grace, and that was what they touched with. Gabriel had spent many a time sitting with the little ones crawling all over him, spilling into his lap or curling up underneath his wings. He remembered Castiel, the little Thursday's angel whose presence he'd felt all over Singer's house. He'd used to love to press right up against Gabriel's side, curled towards his back, and watch his wings for hours.
The questions just kept piling up the longer that he watched the kid sleep. None of them were going to get answered until he was awake and ready to talk. In the meantime, Gabriel needed to take advantage of him sleeping to go and double check his little sanctuary here and make sure there was nothing that he could stumble across that might hurt him, and he needed to adjust the wards to keep them sheltered here.
As he left the room he very deliberately avoided thinking about the fact that he'd just revealed his true self to someone for the first time since he'd left Heaven all those years ago. If he had his way he'd just ignore that part completely. He hadn't thought about the ramifications when he'd done it and it was too late to take it back now.
All he could do now was deal with the fallout. He'd been hiding himself for a long, long time. It wouldn't take much to help hide the kid as well.
When Spencer woke up, for the first time in too long it wasn't to a sensation of pain or fear or any of those things that had carved at his insides these past days. He woke to warmth and softness with his light glowing happily inside of him. For one brief moment he kept his eyes closed and just basked in the sensation of once more being whole. Complete. He flexed his light a bit and then relaxed and let it seep through every inch of his body. It chased away any residual ache inside, healing him from the inside out, and it was wonderful. Spencer wanted to burrow down into it and never leave.
Who knows how long he might've sat there just relishing in the feel if a voice hadn't broken his thoughts and intruded on his little moment of peace. "Well aren't you just a bright little glow bug."
The light inside of Spencer flared warm and happy at the sound of that voice and the feeling of warmth that accompanied it. The rest of Spencer wasn't so easy. His eyes snapped open and, finding a man standing not two feet from the edge of this massive bed he was lying on—when on earth had he gotten here?—and he immediately started to scramble back. The blankets tangled around his legs and Spencer's panicked scrambling only made it worse. The man lifted a hand like he was going to reach for him and Spencer jerked back even faster, the tangled blankets tripping him and sending him tumbling right off the edge of the bed.
He hit the ground with a hard thunk that jarred through him. He didn't care. Spencer shoved at the blankets and scrambled back even more. "Get back!"
There was a hint of concern in the guy's eyes as he drew back and held his hands up peacefully. But there was also humor there, showing brightly in unique amber eyes and in the small smirk on his lips. "Peace, kiddo. I'm not gonna hurt you." That smirk grew just the slightest bit. "You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that all on your own."
"Who are you?" Spencer croaked out. His throat was sore, a byproduct of not having really drank anything lately, but it was clear enough to get the words out. Bracing his hand on the wall, he carefully pulled himself up to his feet, watching the guy across from him while at the same time trying to scan the room in hopes of finding an exit if he needed to run. His brain logged little details, such as the giant bed or the opulence of his room, but mostly he noted that there were only two doors—one behind this guy and one off to the left. Neither of which he'd have a hope of getting two before the guy stopped him. There were windows here as well, both near Spencer and a giant skylight up in the ceiling, but he somehow doubted he'd be able to get out a window quick enough.
If the guy noticed his perusal, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked, "You don't remember?"
He stared at the guy who was just standing there, hands hooked into his pockets, and he tried to keep himself calm. Who was this guy? There was a vague memory of seeing him before, of him coming into Spencer's little prison and talking to him. Asking him questions, maybe? It sort of blurred together. The place that Spencer had been in, mentally, hadn't been that great. He just…hadn't cared enough to notice much in the way of details. He definitely hadn't cared enough to ask who this guy was or where he was taking him. Taking him…he had li—grace. Spencer had felt it. This guy had grace. That meant he was a…an angel. But which one? And what did he want with Spencer?
Leaning a little more against the wall, Spencer stared over at the shorter man, trying to understand. "You took me out of there."
The guy grinned. "Yep."
"Why?" Spencer couldn't stop the word slipping free. "What do you want from me?" So far, everyone had wanted something from him.
"For you to be safe."
He thought of a similar promise from a different group and a different angel. He remembered the burn of grace as Castiel put whatever protective sigils on Spencer's ribs, and then the betrayal as that same grace had turned on him and knocked him unconscious. That sharp reminder had Spencer shifting back ever so slightly. No matter how much his light seemed to want to reach out to this being, there was no way Spencer was going to be that stupid again.
The guy watching him let out a low whistle. "Boy, they really screwed up with you, didn't they, little bird?" He shook his head and his expression was almost sad. "We'll get into that later. For now, you need to eat. You're still partially human—you need things like food and water." Sharp amber eyes ran over Spencer's body and back up to his face. "You're practically wasting away. Didn't they feed you there?"
Without making the conscious choice to actually answer this guy, Spencer found himself saying "I didn't eat." He could remember trays of food being brought in and later on being taken away. He hadn't touched them after that first one.
"Why not?" The guy asked, looking bewildered.
Spencer debated the merits of actually answering that honestly or not. He knew it was smart to play his cards close to the chest and try and probe for what kind of information this guy had and what his real motives were for taking Spencer. But at the same time, he had to give him something, and answering might allow him to better gauge his captor. Tilting his head, he watched through the fringe of his bangs, eyes sharp as they took in everything. "Why would I? I'm pretty sure they were drugging me somehow. Why would I make it easy?"
"You think they were drugging you?" The incredulity in the being's voice had Spencer biting his tongue. Instead, he settled for shrugging one shoulder. It had seemed the most logical answer for why his head had felt the way it had. Spencer was rather intimate with the feeling of being drugged. What he'd felt was pretty similar to when he'd had a little too much. Tired, fuzzy headed, slow. Only, the guy watching him now looked so saddened and so horrified by Spencer's answer. It looked like he was having a hard time not moving towards him. Instead, he settled for just leaning forward a bit, his expression earnest as his eyes locked on Spencer's face. "Kiddo, what you felt wasn't drugs, I swear. I would've felt that in you when I brought you here. What you felt was your body's physical reaction to the wards on the room. Some of those wards in that room were keyed to angels. They're meant to keep them out. When you went in, it basically ripped away your angel self and left it trapped outside that room. Only, since it's a part of you and tied to your soul, it wasn't completely gone. Just, held back."
That explained the empty feeling he'd felt. Curiosity overrode caution and Spencer tilted his head to the side curiously. "How'd you get in and out, then?"
The guy's smile changed into something that was more of a smug smirk. "They keyed it to angels, little bird. Not archangels." He paused, like he hadn't just dropped some huge bombshell, and corrected himself. "At least, not all of us. Sigils to keep out an archangel are much more powerful and much more specific. They were warded against my brothers—they didn't know they needed to ward against me." Shrugging, he grinned again. "Benefits of everyone thinking I'm dead I guess."
There was so much about that that Spencer wanted to comment on. All that came out was, "Archangel?"
"Sometimes. Not often anymore." He shrugged, grin still in place. With exaggerated movements, he gave a parody of a bow, and the air around him seemed to shimmer as a shield of some sort fell away. Spencer's mouth dropped open in awe as wings that hadn't been there before became visible against his back. Not just one pair, like Castiel had had, but three pairs—six great big wings of white and gold that were bigger and more beautiful than anything Spencer had ever seen before. "The archangel Gabriel at your service, squirt." He winked at Spencer as he straightened back up. "I go by Loki these days, though. Not many know my other name. Just my kids. And, well, you now."
"Why?" Spencer asked before he could stop himself. His eyes were still on Gabriel's wings, not quite able to lose his awe over them. Whereas Castiel's wings had scared him a little, the threat in them so blatantly obvious, Gabriel's were so beautiful he almost couldn't look away.
"Gotta be a little clearer there, little sparrow. Why what?"
Spencer chose to ignore yet another bird nickname. Information had always been something he lived on and this being was just offering it up to him. The insatiable need to know that always resided in Spencer had his mouth running despite the voice in his head that told him that maybe demanding answers of an archangel wasn't the best idea. "Why doesn't anyone know you're Gabriel? Why Loki? Why do people think you're dead? And why tell me?"
This time Gabriel's smile was much warmer and much more open. There was a quality to it that Spencer remembered seeing on the faces of his friends a time or two when he really got on a roll with questions and fact-finding. What it was, he wasn't sure, but it made his grace hum happily inside of him. "That's a lot of questions." Gabriel pointed out. "Tell you what – I'll answer em, if you come eat."
The low rumble of Spencer's stomach answered for him. Gabriel grinned when he heard the sound. Ignoring the blush that filled Spencer's cheek, he gestured with one hand for the young genius to follow him. "Come on, let's go out to the kitchen."
Was there really any choice? Spencer needed answers and he wouldn't get them hiding out in this room. Besides which, he'd been cooped up for so long the idea of walking anywhere felt immensely appealing. And it would allow him to look around and figure out where he was, too. With that in mind, Spencer pushed away from the wall and carefully set off after his newest captor.
They wandered out of the bedroom and down a hallway before Gabriel led them down a staircase. When they got to the bottom Spencer couldn't help how he stared around him in awe. The place had a wide open floor plan with plenty of windows to let in the natural light and show off the trees to one side and the wide, sandy beaches on the other. The place was done in warm woods and easy, beach-themed colors. This place, it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Even more stunning than the home itself was the wide open view of the beach and the ocean, though. Spencer had loved the ocean ever since he'd first seen it when he went to California. This place…this was beautiful. There were no tourists out on the beach, no other houses or anything that Spencer could se. Just sand and the bright blue water.
He didn't notice Gabriel standing nearby, watching him fondly as he took in everything around him. A hint of Spencer's awe showed in his voice as he turned his gaze back in from the windows and asked "Where are we?"
"A private island of mine not far out from the Bahamas." Gabriel answered.
A private island? But how had they…they'd flown. Like how Castiel had taken him from Vegas to wherever he'd been in that basement. They'd flown. That explained the weird sensation that Spencer remembered feeling before Gabriel had laid him down in the bed. Then the rest of Gabriel's comment kicked in and Spencer's brain easily filled in the blanks there. No…no way. Slowly, he turned to look at Gabriel, hesitant to ask his question and come off looking like a fool if he was wrong. There was something on Gabriel's face that gave him the courage to ask "Are we…in the Bermuda triangle?"
"Yep." Gabriel drew the word out, popping the 'p' at the end. At Spencer's stunned look, he grinned. "Keeps people away."
"I don't even know how to begin to address that."
"We start with breakfast. Have a seat."
This was all too surreal. Spencer found himself sitting at a tall bar in the kitchen with Gabriel sitting just a few stools down from him. It took all he had not to jump back when a snap from Gabriel brought a platter of food onto the bar. "Eat." The archangel told him. He saw Spencer's nerves and smiled encouragingly. "There's nothing in it. Eat, kiddo."
Spencer debated for a long moment as he looked down at the food. So far, this guy, angel, hadn't hurt him. If anything, he'd saved him. That didn't mean that Spencer could or would trust him. It did, however, mean that maybe he could unbend enough to take the food being offered. Besides, starving himself would do nothing in the end except make him weaker. He'd been without food or water too much these past couple days. He needed energy. Whether he liked it or not, he had to eat something. The way that Gabriel beamed at him as he picked up the fork and speared a bit of fruit had nothing at all to do with his choice.
Only when he'd seen the first bite go into Spencer's mouth did Gabriel finally nod and settle down in his chair. Now that he was sure Spencer was actually eating, he seemed ready to answer Spencer's questions. Something told Spencer that he wasn't happy about having to answer them, though.
Years of working at the BAU and plenty of training had helped Spencer become quite adept at reading body language but the being across from him seemed to have a great amount of control over his body. There wasn't much physical that gave away his discomfort. No, it was something else entirely that gave him away. It was the way that his wings were moving behind him. They'd sort of drawn in, hunched ever so slightly kind of like a person hunching their shoulders when they were uncomfortable or unhappy with a subject. Were wings that good a guide to emotions as bodies were? Spencer decided it was worth keeping an eye on and he logged that little bit of information away in the back of his mind. The rest of him just focused on Gabriel and waited.
It only took a second before the archangel sighed. A corner of his mouth quirked up like he was trying to pull on that amused expression that Spencer had seen him wearing earlier. "My story really isn't long or big or anything like that. Before my brother was cast out, the fighting upstairs was pretty bad. By the time Mikey threw him out and locked him in the Cage, well, let's just say Heaven wasn't exactly Heaven anymore."
He said it so casually, like he was trying to pretend it didn't hurt, but his wings curled in a little and they dropped down just the slightest bit. Worry? Pain? Sadness? Spencer tried to classify what he thought those things might signify.
Gabriel shrugged his shoulder and leaned back in his chair. He pulled a sucker from his pocket and unwrapped it before popping it in his mouth. The stick stuck out off to the side as the archangel grinned around it. "I got tired of the fighting, so I left. Skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, and I carved out my own little corner of the world. I became Loki. Kind of the perfect hiding place. There was no way my family was gonna look for me with the pagans."
Considering what Spencer knew from the Winchesters—and his mind still boggled over the idea of the Apocalypse even though he'd had days now to get used to it—he supposed he could understand what had made Gabriel run and hide. To become Loki, though…that was quite a change, even if hiding in the pagans was a smart place to go. Spencer could understand how he could consider it perfect. Why would angels think to look in the pagans? But, that brought up so many new questions. Had he just taken the place of Loki? Had he invented him? How did that work?
A warm laugh broke into Spencer's thoughts. He looked up to find Gabriel watching him with that same strange, happy look he'd worn most of the morning. There was something in it that Spencer didn't quite understand. "I can practically see the thoughts racing around in your head there, fledgling."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Spencer asked, spearing another bit of food and chewing on it.
"Because that's what you are. And, you know, you still haven't exactly told me your name."
Spencer chewed his bite slowly and waited until he swallowed before he spoke. He avoided the name bit, ridiculous though that may seem. "The other angel, he said I'm a nephilim." He'd said it like it was something filthy, too. Like it was something Spencer should be ashamed of. Unconsciously, the young genius hunched down a little, his shoulders curving in.
The way he drew in on himself didn't go unnoticed by his companion. The light in Gabriel's eyes sharpened a little and his wings pushed out behind him and shook out in a way that made Spencer think of an animal bristling up in some sort of angry display. "He's an idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about." Gabriel snapped. Then, with visible restraint, he drew his wings back in and sighed before shaking his head. The tension seemed to drain out of him. "Then again, he doesn't know any better. Cassie boy was one of the last fledglings Dad ever made, and he never encountered any nephilim. He wouldn't know the difference between them and you."
Spencer chewed on his bottom lip watched Gabriel's face carefully. "There's a difference?"
"Yeah. I can see how he got confused. You've got a soul in there, kiddo, don't doubt that. But you've got too much grace to be nephilim. Way too much. You're, more than a nephilim, but not quite an angel. You're something kind of new. There's only been one like you before and only the Firstborn would recognize you for what you are."
So, even among angels he was something of a freak. Not human, not nephilim, not angel. He was different than everyone else—the same as he'd always been. Spencer's shoulders drooped and he dropped his eyes down to his plate. He pushed absently at his food with his fork and tried not to think about how unfair it all was. Was he just destined to always be the different one? To always be stuck not fitting in anywhere? Not at home, not at school, not at work. Always trying so damn hard to fit in and always falling short of the mark. Sometimes it felt like he'd get so close and then he'd say or do something that would mark him as different, as not like them.
Laying his fork carefully down on his plate, Spencer deliberately kept his eyes averted from the being across from him as he softly said "I'd like to go lay down for a while, if that's all right. I'm tired."
There was a long moment of quiet during which he didn't dare look up. Finally, he heard a soft sound that might've been a sigh, or it might've been just the whisper of the wind. "Sure, kiddo. I'm sure this is a lot to take in and you're still kind of recovering anyways. You remember your way to the bedroom?"
"Yes." Even as he pushed up from his chair, manners had Spencer saying "Thank you for the meal."
"You're welcome."
The room he left behind was silent.
Gabriel watched the kid go and wished with everything he had that he could reach out and grab the little fledgling and gather him up with arms and wings and grace and hold him close and safe until all those broken little parts started to heal together. At the same time he wanted to fly out and find anyone and everyone who was responsible for damaging him like this. If he could get his hands on them, he'd teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.
The Trickster part of him reminded him that he did know a few of the ones who had done some of the damage he'd just seen on the young one.
His lips curved up in a smile that was slow and devious. He'd already been contemplating putting together a little trick for that bunch. Maybe it was time to adapt his plans a little and teach them a different sort of lesson. It'd take a bit of work to get it just right. He'd have to put some real thought it in. The last time he'd tried to teach them a lesson he'd failed spectacularly. This time he'd have to put a bit more thought into it.
This was going to be so much fun.