If the notes previous didn't suffice, I don't know what will.
:)
Chapter 1: Gabriel
Gabriel ("God is my strength") - . . . the angel of annunciation, resurrection, mercy, vengeance, death, revelation. . .quoting a Babylonian legend, Gabriel once fell into disgrace "for not obeying a command exactly as given, and remained for a while outside the heavenly Curtain." . . . According to the court testimony of Joan of Arc, it was Gabriel who inspired her to go to the succor of the King of France. . ."
- Excerpted from Gustav Davidson's A Dictionary of the Angels; Including the Fallen Angels
It was when he was looking into the pleading, desperate eyes of Sam Winchester that Gabriel finally realized that something was very wrong. Cosmically wrong. Wrong like Brittney Spears being elected President of the United States, or Richard Dawkins retiring to a monastery in Kentucky, only more.
Something had been triggering faint alarms for some time, though he was hard pressed to remember when he had first ignored the "not-quite-right"feeling. Several centuries, at least. Now, though, confronted with the blood-stained soul of Sam Winchester, pleading and begging for his brother . . . now the feeling of wrongness was brought forcefully to mind.
It hit him with a sudden wave of nostalgia, of homesickness. Seeing the bond between the two brothers, un-shattered, un-frayed, even after a thousand deaths, Gabriel's mind dissociated from the words he was even now speaking. Words he had believed even a moment before, but were quickly becoming lies.
As much as he was telling Sam to get over it, to let his brother go, at the same time a long silent part of his mind was saying, This is how we were supposed to be!
Angels spoke a big game about Love and Being Brothers and Sisters, but when was the last time they had actually behaved accordingly? He cast his mind back, his memories unaccountably unclear. Discomfited, he released Sam and Dean from their loop. He needed answers.
He settled onto the branch of an ancient, gnarled oak in a park in New Orleans, furiously casting his mind back over the centuries. He had not been inclined toward introspection for a few millenia, so he was shocked at the foggy brokenness of his recollections. It was an impossibility- all angels had perfect memory. Granted, he'd been kicking around earth for a while now, but he had never fallen, as such. He was every bit an archangel now as he'd been two thousand years ago, and stand-in for a pagan deity to boot. The only way this could have happened, is if someone, or something, had made it happen.
A soft cough to his right drew his attention to the two ravens on the branch next to him. He sighed, leaning back against the trunk. If Huginn and Muninn were visiting, he must have been on to something. He eyed the two birds warily- if there was one thing he'd learned during his time on Earth, it was a certain amount of caution. Racing to conclusions never helped anything, so best to wait and watch a while, see what he could observe. Perhaps these feelings would abate once he saw that everything was as it should be.
So he watched, as Dean Winchester's year came to an end. He watched as the Hell Hounds- there was something there that tried to tug a vanished memory-dragged the man down to Hell. Watched as his little brother, Castiel, immediately tried to dive in after, only to be forcefully restrained by Zachariah, Uriel, and Khamael. He was dismayed as he watched Zachariah casually break Castiel's wings, tearing and tangling his grace, in an effort to restrain the frantic young guardian. Pride, then, when Castiel still managed to wriggle out of their hold, an entire garrison chasing after as he dove down.
His teacher would be proud. Gabriel thought, before wondering Wait, who? Who was it that taught Castiel to endure such pain? To so skillfully navigate the cyclones of Hell?
Despite the speed and skill of Castiel, Dean had broken before the angel had caught hold of him, torn and mangled grace tangling with a torn and mangled soul. By some strange quirk of The Law, each seemed to sooth and heal the other as they rose, until at last Dean was safe upon the Earth.
But Castiel was not safe. Watching as Zachariah and Khamael tossed their little brother into "Re-education," Gabriel knew, beyond any doubt, that something was seriously wrong with his brothers and sisters. Castiel should have been commended, promoted, and shown as an example of what an angel should be. Not broken again, not punished for his zeal to serve.
Well . . . shit.
He might have gone to his step-father for advice. Odin was not nearly as stuffy and pompous as some people thought- just bring him a cask of fine mead or ale and Old One-eye would talk for hours. But this circumstance was different. This was out of Odin's pay grade.
He flew to Tokyo, hoping the masses of people would help mask the source of the prayer from all but his Father.
I know it's been a while, Dad. But something is very wrong. Some thing is wrong with my brothers and my sisters . . . and with me. Please . . . I cannot watch this happen. Please help.
Only the rushing sounds of the people below answered. Typical.
He flew down, then, into the teeming masses of humanity, hoping to loose himself in the bright lights and ceaseless chatter for a time.
He had managed to walk half a block before a voice separated from the cacophony around him.
"Roki-sama! Roki-sama!" The voice sounded frantic. It took him a moment to recognize the name "Lord Loki" in the Japanese. "Sumimasen, minna . . . Roki-sama!"
He turned around, startled to see a small gang of humans in strange clothing. Ah, yes, Cosplay, if the large hammer held by the one, and the eye-patch on another were anything to go by. It really seemed an excuse to dress in tight leather and dye the hair, but he sure as heaven wasn't going to fuss. He himself understood the fun in pretending to be someone else for a time.
The girl in the middle-Freya, perhaps? Hard to tell with the Norse-bellydance fusion look happening. The girl held out a box, bowing.
"Roki-sama," she panted, eyes fixed to the pavement beneath her. "We were told to give this to you."
Gabriel looked at the box- pink, with drawn on confetti, the word "Carvel" catching his attention. Ice cream cake. . . Oh, the kind with the chocolate crunchies! Gently, he took the box with a murmur of thanks, distracted by the thought of the delectable morsels hidden within the creamy concoction, and by the message written in the icing.
EAT ME
LOKI -KUN
LOL
Dad Bless the Japanese, Gabriel thought. So delightfully odd. . . "Say, who was it that-?" but they were already gone into the seething masses flowing by. No sense in letting the ice cream melt, though.
Atop a roof in Nishi-Shinjuku, facing Mt. Fuji, Gabriel dug in, delighting in the creamy icing and ice cream, and almost giggling in delight as he reached the middle layer of chocolate cruchies. She had always saved the crunchies for last.
Wait, who? Gabriel paused in his snacking- he'd never shared his love of ice cream cake with anyone. Even the other pagan deities scorned him for his love of human sweets, so he always indulged alone. But he clearly remembered that someone. . . someone had loved the crunchies as much as he himself did.
But he couldn't remember who. He wasn't sure that this budding headache was a brain freeze.
Mood broken, he continued through the cake, until his self-created spoon hit metal.
Ice cream cake isn't supposed to have metal in it. This had now become archaeology. Carefully, he extracted the sliver of metal from the delectable chocolate crunchy bed, to reveal a key bearing a seal of two lions holding the sun. The logo of the Nippon Ginko, the central bank of Japan.
The rest of the ice cream-and crunchies!-was quickly finished off. The key was for a safe deposit box, which opened to reveal nothing save a postal delivery ticket.
So he took the ticket to the designated depot, and traded it in for a box, addressed to:
UNCLE GABRY L. GODSON
2-1-1 Nihonbashi-Hongokucho,
Chuo-ku,Tokyo 103-0021 Japan
Which was the address of the bank he had just left. But the really disturbing part was that someone had clearly connected Gabriel with Loki. The called for caution. Downtown Tokyo was not the place to be opening a box that might be the metaphysical equivalent of a mail-bomb.
Los Alamos should be safe enough.
He sat down in the dust, the desert sun doing its best to pound him down further, but he ignored it, tearing the pull-strip off the side of the box, and pulling out a fat envelope. There was a coin taped to the outside- a silver Franc, above another message.
Time to wake up, Uncle.
He peeled the coin off, rubbing it between his fingers, remembering the young girl who had given it to him those centuries ago as a gift. He had no need for currency, but he had always liked the warmth of silver, the way it felt soft to his touch. A token from a troubled girl who had no wealth of her own, but insisted on giving all she had away to everyone she met.
He could feel it, now, the press as a wall in his mind strained, as memories fuzzed in and out of focus. The coin had been a token of friendship, a remembrance for when she was gone. Friends. The way it was supposed to be.
Determined, he tore open the envelope, immediately overcome by the explosion of scent- sandalwood, frankinsence, cedar, myrrh but above all, roses! As though the whole desert around him suddenly bloomed as sky blue silk poured out into his hands.
And then, the wall was gone, and he remembered! He remembered the little angel, small and quiet, fastest wing in all of heaven, that helped hold the arms of Moses upon the hill, that whispered plans to the ear of Judith and taught her to use her enemy's sword. The angel that stood by the Women Who Watched, the angel that held the Mother as she wept over the fate of her Son. The angel that stood silently by as little Joan was tried and sentenced to death b fire for sins that were not her own.
And he remembered how, exactly, she had been created.
He wept then, truly understanding just how messed up the story had gotten.
But he laughed a little, too, and he brought the silk veil up to his face, breathing in the flowers and spices. Because he had been given the answer he prayed for.
Time to go find her. Time to start fixing this mess.
Next: Uriel