After the crime...
Metatron became Gadreel's redemption. He visited him every day after he'd written down his plea on paper. Metatron had showed total concern and rage for what had happened to the angel. Every day Gadreel's scars grew more infected, his wounds grew deeper, and his grace grew weaker. Every day though, he had an angel visit him and his day got a little better. Metatron spoke with him about many things. He told him of what was happening in Heaven. He told him the little things too like what angels had said in regards to Gadreel or anything Metatron found amusing. He had explained to Gadreel that he was a writer and his job was to observe and write stories for God.
"I write the things that other Scribes wouldn't dare," he'd smiled proudly, so proudly in fact he was practically glowing. "I want to write things people will remember for ages."
Gadreel certainly would remember given the chance to read them, he'd remember that smile for ages too.
Metatron had healed his eyes with what power the Scribe had been given. Gadreel felt this overwhelming warmth flood him when he looked upon Metatron for the first time without ailment. He'd clearly been down to earth in the past years, for he'd taken a vessel. Gadreel had heard pray tell of Adam and Eve "doing the naughty" as Gabriel had called it by Metatron's account and creating more humans. Father had spoken to all of the archangels about using humans as vessels once there were enough of them to go around, he'd said he was going to create more the way he'd made Adam and Eve, but they'd gotten the job done another way.
Metatron's vessel was a dark brown haired skinny human with brilliant blue eyes. His hair was pristine and his vessel's body was lanky. He still wore his robes that came with being a Scribe. Gadreel would be the first to admit the vessel Metatron had chosen was one of beauty, of course all of his Father's creations were, but this was a different kind of beauty. This kind made Gadreel's insides flutter like his wings did when he flew. He looked away.
"One day you will receive a vessel as nice as this one." Metatron smiled.
For some unbelievable reason, Gadreel believed him.
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"We could do it you know," Metatron had tried to convince Gadreel that one day they'd make the archangels pay for what they did. "Somehow get the truth out there and get Lucifer in here instead of you."
"It does not matter anymore Metatron," Gadreel sighed and looked out of the bars of his cell like he did every day. "No one will believe me. No one will think I am worthy of redemption."
"That is exactly why they're worth our time," Metatron argued. "They deserve nothing less than vengeance from you!"
"I suppose yes," Gadreel turned his head towards Metatron. "But how would that be achieved behind bars?"
"Just you wait," Metatron smirk became almost sinister. "One day you shall have your revenge."
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Millennia passed, years passed. Metatron eventually stopped coming. Something about him being replaced by another Scribe. The warmth Gadreel had felt when the angel was near him was slowly starting to fade away.
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All of the Archangels had fallen in one way or another. Lucifer had been banished millennia before by his Father, but he'd been locked up with Michael in Hell in his cage after the supposed prized fight on earth between the two. Raphael had been killed. Gabriel was gone, presumably in hiding, but otherwise non-existent in Heaven. Gadreel could feel their absences like a hole in his grace, but there was only one absence truly affecting him. He didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew he'd felt good things when Metatron had been around and he liked that a lot better than what he was feeling now.
What he was feeling now felt emptier than the prison cells surrounding him.
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When he'd escaped the prison cell his first instinct had been to search Heaven for the cause, but he'd followed his second instinct and obtained a vessel instead. A rather handsome fellow who worked at a local bar in the town Gadreel had fallen down to. He'd felt strange being in a vessel, the sensation of human skin hugging him and covering him like a blanket. He'd moved his fingers, his legs, everything that a human had and he'd lacked for millennia since his imprisonment. He'd taken what the humans called a bus and wandered for awhile until he heard a voice, a voice he'd heard so much about in Heaven but never thought he'd ever hear in his life.
Dean Winchester was pleading for help.
Gadreel had never flown faster in his life.
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When he'd possessed the younger Winchester, Sam, he'd laid dormant at first. The last thing he needed was to share his thoughts with the man on accident. He'd seen Sam's thoughts and that was painful enough without adding his own into the mix. All the angel could think about was three things, one who was responsible for his freedom, two why the angels were silent, and three what had happened to the angel that had given him this hope millennia ago? He wanted to find him, to tell Metatron he was right, and that Gadreel was free now and hopefully things would be rightful and as they should be. Something in his gut though, told him whoever was behind this didn't have the best intentions and things would only end badly if he investigated.
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Before his death...
Sam had gotten smart and kicked him out. Gadreel didn't mind though, what was more shocking to him was who was behind all this. Metatron. The angel who had given him everything when he had nothing had given him nothing this time. That cut him deeply and even more so when he walked into Metatron's office.
"Ah Gadreel," Metatron smiled, he was in a new vessel, one less desirable. "My favorite."
"Is that so?" Gadreel inquired, coming closer to the former Scribe's desk.
"You've always meant a lot to me," Metatron chuckled. "What with our big plans and all? Aren't you proud of me? I did what we wanted! Now we run the show.
"Metatron this," Gadreel was taken aback, he hadn't wanted this. "This is not what I wanted. Do not punish our brothers and sisters for nothing."
"Nothing," Metatron exclaimed, suddenly glaring. "Nothing?! They did this to us Gadreel! They made us rejects! They robbed me of my position and you of your freedom! Isn't this what you wanted?! Revenge?"
"I wanted things to be right," Gadreel glared, starting to turn away. "I didn't want chaos. I didn't want this madness, this bad blood being spilled into every angel's mind and being! This bad blood...everywhere..."
"Bad blood huh," Metatron scoffed. "You're one to talk. You've done bad things too and the best part is you did for me, because I know how you feel and I know how you've always felt."
Metatron came closer to Gadreel, willing him to look him in the eyes, but Gadreel refused and he clenched his eyes tight and closed.
"We can be in this together," Metatron whispered. "Isn't that what you want? An us, a forever?"
"S-Stop this..." Gadreel pleaded, this wasn't the Metatron he knew. "Please!"
"This is what you wanted take it or leave it," Metatron replied. "We have what we came for. I broke you out of Heaven for this."
"Well I wish you hadn't." Gadreel's glare became more evident and he swiftly left the building. He left Metatron behind along with whatever warmth he'd felt millennia ago for the angel. He felt a new warmth now, one leaking from his vessel's eyes. He wiped at them, ridding them of the warm tears flowing from them and flew off.
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Gadreel felt another new kind of warmth now. This was more familiar, this one was Heaven. He remembered drawing the sigil on his bare chest in his blood. He remembered his speech.
"When they say my name perhaps I will be remembered, not as the one who let the serpent in but as one of the few who helped give Heaven a second chance."
He tasted those words now. They burned like acid on his tongue. He remembered everything. He remembered Metatron's corrupt nature and why he was where he was now. He remembered possessing Sam, the poor bastard. He remembered falling to Earth and how it hurt. He remembered his imprisonment and how his only friends were another prisoner named Abner (until he was taken away) and a Scribe, a Scribe he'd placed his trust in and whom he believed he'd believed to have loved. The humans called it love, the warmth he'd felt.
Finally Gadreel remembered that day. That faithful that had started it all. The damn snake, damn Lucifer to Hell. He needed to remain there as far as Gadreel was concerned. He could still hear the snake's forked tongue shooting out and sniffing the air and he could still feel the trance. Even now as Gadreel paced Elysium where his angelic soul was doomed to stay, he could feel it deep inside of him. He looked down at the sigil on his chest and sighed. He prayed silently that the Winchesters and Castiel, who'd grown to be Gadreel's friend at least that's what Gadreel had assumed. That they were friends.
More than anything he prayed for Metatron, he didn't know why he did, but he did. He prayed that the Metatron he'd known way back when would come back one day. Resentment had grown and the warmth inside of Gadreel had been extinguished and the angel wondered if Metatron felt anything at all anymore. Gadreel didn't have to worry about that anymore though, there was too much blood spilled between him and Metatron to ever go back now. He'd sacrificed himself in hopes that Castiel could finish the job and return Heaven to normal.
And at least now, all the bad blood could lie.
Forever.
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I hope you all enjoyed this twoshot!