Well how awesome is this.
T'was the night before christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, aside from the daughter, who was reading/writing fanfiction.
Hip hip horray!
This is late and sHIT, and I'm so so SO sorry! Next time you get all four Archangel Colour forms, and a better chapter. Go find a better writer tho seriously.
The AKA is 'I Feel So Cold'
{March, 1911}
Gabriel took the head from another vamp, carefully searching the forest for the remaining few. For all he knew, Marcus and Vincent had already handled them, but judging by the sudden gunshot that rang out some ways to his left, the threat definitely wasn't 'handled'.
Week after week, attack after attack, and monsters, witches and beasts of all kinds were gradually pressing in on the Bunker. Admitted, nobody had even come close to the hidden door concealed into the hill, but Gabriel supposed that was part of the magic.
Flipping his blade into his belt, Gabriel vaulted a fallen tree and shot for the direction of the gunshot, lengthening his strides over the bare forest floor, weaving between trees and tall bushes.
When he saw Vincent looming over a fang with no small grin, Gabriel knew he had this handled. When the sharp report of the rifle in his hands cut through the brain of the vamp, Gabriel kicked off the next tree and headed for Marcus' stationed point.
The instant he heard the shriek of cornered fury and a fang's roar of hatred, Gabriel picked up his pace, shooting over the roots and crunchy covering of dead leaves, skidding on the spring-mushy ground.
Just in time to spot the vamp leering at Marcus, trapped on the ground.
Gabriel tackled him.
He'd never admit it to his siblings, of course, but Gabriel did know how to fight dirty. His vessel, compact and small, was built for unbelievable speed and power, particularly in the act of projectile attacks, in which Gabriel could plant shoulder to kidney, arms around the vamp's waist, a full-bodied tackle.
The two went down in a heap, the vamp shrieking first in rage, then progressively in horror as it started to scent his Archangel blood. I don't want to clean my coat! He thought as they rolled around in the dirt, kicking and fighting, wrestling furiously across the forest floor.
Gabriel flipped it over, pinned it's arms, and slashed through it's throat.
With the vamp's lifeblood gurgling softly through the leaflitter, Gabriel stepped off the man's body, his black hair spattered with spray. Then he turned to Marcus, and held out a hand.
"I had that one." The younger growled, eyes narrowed.
"Uh huh, sure you did, librarian." Gabriel snapped back playfully. "We've got one-"
A gunshot cut him off.
"...No more, then." Gabriel finished with a smirk. "Vincent would've made a damn fine hunter."
"There's really nobody with better aim." Marcus admitted, straightening his jacket.
"Nobody." Gabriel agreed, heading in the direction of the shot.
The pair arrived, bloodstained and roughed up, just as Vincent was climbing unscathed from a tree. "She's about forty feet up the hill. Gabriel, can you get her head?" The man questioned, dropping to the ground with his gun slung across his back. "I managed to get a spine-shot in there, but better safe than sorry."
"Got it." Gabriel nodded, turning away and beginning his steady climb up the low slope, finding the body of the shot vampire relatively easily. The small yellow dress she was wearing didn't hide her very well. Gabriel bit his lip uncomfortably, crouching close to see the practically perfect hole that Vincent had shot, exiting slightly to the left of her windpipe, but the entrance dead centre of her spine. "Yikes, Vincent..." He mumbled, threading fingers through her soft blonde hair before yanking upright, pulling the neck taut so that his blade, with one swing, cut clean through the severed section. The sensation of tendons snapping and muscle shredding through his blade wasn't one he liked, that much he knew.
Gabriel set the head to the side, leaving it almost as a flag, before carefully bending down and pulling the body against his back, one arm over his shoulder to hold, and a leg over his other shoulder. I am going to have to get this coat cleaned. He thought with a long-suffered sigh, slowly beginning his march back to the Bunker's door.
"Got the body, Gabriel?" Vincent questioned, holding a shovel as Marcus was already dumping gasoline and salt into their little back pit for corpses.
"Of course I do." He huffed, shoving the heavy thing off his back and into the pit, where Marcus helpfully poured a generous splash of gasoline all over it. "What do you..." He sucked in a breath, hands on his knees. "Take me for?"
"Lazier than you are." Vincent stated without hesitation, leaning on his shovel with a catlike smirk.
"And short!" Marcus added unhelpfully, lighting his cigarette and taking a few calming puffs before taking the thin, cinder-tipped stick and tossing it into the dirt pit.
The flames steadily spread over the five vampire corpses, four of their heads piled by the side as Vincent knelt down with a pair of pliers. "Marcus, can you go get the last head?" He asked, slicing open the cheeks of one and breaking it's jaw with a quick strike from his ball-peen hammer. The crack of bone was relatively distinct as the younger made a slightly disgusted grunt, beginning to extract the fangs of the vampires, a sightless face kept steady between his knees as long, thin, needle-like teeth clattered into the bowl beside him.
"You're right, Gabriel. He really would make a fine hunter." Marcus smirked as he set the last head, the female that Gabriel had sliced off, on the pile.
"I." Vincent snapped, yanking on a particularly stuck fang. "Hate. This." He emphasized each word with a pull. "Job!" The tooth finally ripped free, and Vincent threw it at the bowl in a last act of spite, smirking with a small curse word in Latin.
In the meantime, Marcus and Gabriel stuck their hands closer to the now-roaring pit of fire, the March chill catching a little more through blood and dirt-soaked clothes. The scent of burning flesh and hair and the sound of bone snapping under the intense heat hung heavy in the air, the tired pair who weren't still working on their third vampire head sitting near the flames. "Y'know, I'm sure if we poured some pepper on this, it'd smell great." Gabriel commented.
"Yes, certainly, spice the corpses." Vincent muttered sarcastically. "Should we see if we can find some forest mushrooms to go with it? Maybe some apples?" He looked over, waving his pliers for emphasis.
Gabriel and Marcus were practically cackling, the latter having rolled onto his back at the absolutely finished, but bloodstained expression Vincent wore.
It took a few minutes and the last head picked clean before the other pair finally stopped their aftershock giggling, watching as Vincent tossed the heads into the final throes of the fire, briefly rekindling the hot flames, before Marcus nodded, satisfied.
"I'll watch these go down. You and Gabriel get yourselves cleaned up."
Vincent started for the door without complaint, jogging ahead of Gabriel before the shorter caught up at a low run, the pair half-sprinting, half casually strutting for the door. One way or another, they both entered the Bunker at the same time.
"I can't fucking believe-"
"Oh yeah? That's the fifth time in two weeks!" John's voice rose high above Curtis' low grumbling and Vance's profanities.
"And what are we expected to do, huh? Wait for a saving grace? Maybe an angel?"
"And calling Goddamn North down here is better?!"
That got Gabriel moving a bit.
He and Vincent jumped down the stairs, swinging into the main room where De'van, John, Vance, Wayne, Curtis and Emil argued loudly, swinging arms and angered words doing nothing to get a point across. Leaning on the side wall, beside Amos, a rather confident looking, thin, sandy-blond haired man stood, watching the ongoings with muted disinterest.
"What tha' hell is going on?!" Vincent shouted, accent showing through the smallest bit with his words.
Gabriel hated days like this. When a subordinate, though equally important, one of their team objected to something that the other said. They weren't a militant group, after all.
"This bastard," De'van growled at Vance. "Wants to send a good portion of our library to the Ghost Bunker."
"It'll be safer! They've figured out we're around here, and it's only a matter of damn time-"
"The blanket wards, Vance!" John shouted from the sidelines, bitterness filling his voice.
"And if a witch, one of the dozen that we've seen in three months, figures out a blood cancel? Or even just carries a damn gun?!" Vance slapped a hand on the table.
"That mountain is the safest place on this continent! It's a magic sink, well warded, isolated-"
"Yeah, isolated! Good luck getting needed information out fast!"
"Ok ok hold on!" Gabriel shouted over the clashing voices, waving his hands to catch their attention. The room went silent with the new voice as Gabriel turned to Vance. "Northern? Really? Why Northern?"
"See what I mean? Y-" De'van began, before Gabriel spun around.
"And what do you have against Northern?"
The shouts of vitriol-filled, testosterone fuelled fury mixed together, words no longer intelligible between them.
Amos interrupted with a bear-like roar, immediately silencing the two like whipped puppies, shrinking back slightly from the man three inches shorter and a hundred pounds meaner than they were.
There was quiet for a few bitter seconds, nervous glances flicked between the group, before the blond man stepped forward.
"Well, as entertaining as it is to watch you..." He began in a slightly French, though majorly English accent. His voice was soft and calm, with a cool, casually dignified air to it. "I'd like to get on with this."
"And who tha' fuck are you?" Vincent demanded, spinning to face the newcomer with no small amount of anger.
"My name is Daniel. Daniel Smitt. I'm a contact for North." Daniel responded, smiling faintly.
"As in, the Northern Bunker?" Gabriel questioned.
"Yes. We heard about the... increasing number of attacks on this Bunker and have decided to act." Daniel purred smoothly. "I'm here to advocate the removal and copying of at least sixty percent of the documents held at this location."
"And moved to?"
"North." Daniel shrugged. "I'm here to make sure you get there."
"And nobody said we were taking our shit and dumping it on you syrup-loving-"
"Enough!" Amos shouted, immediately silencing the room. "Obviously, main command has taken notice of our increased exports, and as a result, has decided that we're in need of assistance."
This made Gabriel roll his eyes.
The Men of Letters had four technical bases in North America, and one central command. South base, the one he was stationed at, was high on the chain of authority, but North, the most remote and least attended base, was the Holy Grail of the Bunkers. Hell, they might've even had the damn Grail in that stupid base.
"My apologies, sir... but I'd really like to get Bailey in here. He's a historian, he can tell us which books need to be copied, and which need to be transferred." Daniel stepped forward, smiling calmly.
"...Just, listen to command, boys." Amos sighed. He was aging now, they all knew it. It would take one wrong spell, one bad day, and Amos was dead. None of them wanted to admit it, none of them wanted it to happen. But they all knew. "Help Daniel and Bailey. I'm sure they'll get what they need to. After that, Vance, Gabriel, I want you two to go with them as insurance and protection."
"Yes sir." Vance nodded, jaw skewing slightly.
Daniel didn't object or complain in the slightest. "I'll go get Bailey, and we can start clearing some space. I have a feeling this will be a lot of... work."
Gabriel growled to himself. I think so too.
-{[|]}-
The pile of boxes loaded into the back of the wagon looked like crates of perhaps fruit, or other tradeable goods, but in reality, they were dangerous just to have free of the warding.
Bailey, a short, stout man with mousy brown hair, a perpetual squint and seemingly two moods (overly happy or dead silent) sat at the head, holding gently to the reins of the two horses at it's lead.
Daniel, as it turned out, wasn't as much of a prissy asshole that Gabriel had first taken him for. As it turned out, he was a huntsman, the modified, but beautifully crafted bow on his back sharp evidence of that. The arrows in his quiver were of multiple materials, from a few pointed gold ones to hard iron tips, oak and birch, one even infused with sandalwood. The bow was Daniel's pride and joy, and his weapon against all things supernatural.
He sat astride a snowy-white horse, a few black markings on her fetlocks and face, fluffy, slightly shaggy fur protective against the spring chill.
"Pretty horse." Gabriel commented, petting Jet's nose gently. The mare that Daniel had was a good bit thicker in muscle, much stronger body than Jet, obviously some form of tough breeding to her.
"Thanks." Daniel purred with a smile. "Snowflake's been up and down that mountain a few times."
"Good to know, because I don't think Jet'll handle it well." Gabriel smirked, pulling himself onto the saddle before watching for Vance, who climbed into the wagon beside Bailey.
"He doesn't look it, no. Long limbed Arab." Daniel chuckled.
"Nevermind whatever sort of crossbreed Snowflake is there. She looks like a damn Shire." He flicked his head toward the horse as Bailey called out a quick 'hup', and the wagon got started.
"She is. Half, anyway. Shire and some... Indeterminable breeding." He patted her neck. "Apparently her mother had it in with some wild horse, so had no idea."
"You the one who raised her?" Gabriel questioned as they trotted along, passing through their 'hometown', Lebanon. The town was packed dirt roads, two churches and a few dozen other buildings, it's population showing in the people walking about in thick dresses and long-sleeved outfits.
"I had a hand in it, yeah." Daniel nodded. "Bailey, let's pick up the pace. I want to get there by the second week." With that and a quick little tap of the reins, the powerful white horse sped up, leading the way for the wagon and Gabriel, as the group started their long trek north.
-{[|]}-
They made good time, trekking through towns and cities that gave the convoy strange or welcoming looks, depending on their situation. Often, they didn't even notice, just more trainers or farmers travelling through their centre square as Daniel led them on strange direction that was nothing Gabriel had walked. He didn't cut straight through the states they were crossing, rather winding around the borders and skirting edges to keep away from specific areas.
"It's a redirection." Daniel had admitted quietly one evening while he and Gabriel sat across from each other on beds, the inn they had appropriated for the night warm and rather comfortable. "They'll have issues to follow us further."
Daniel was a nice person, albeit insecure and suspicious of essentially everything, but Gabriel had noticed the scars on his shoulders, the repeatedly reopened wound marks on his chest and back, stretched with age, that spoke soft words of childhood torment. The Archangel supposed he had a reason.
"Gotcha." Gabriel had nodded gently, running one hand through his hair. "Then we'll keep going."
The grand state of Washington, northerly and close to the border, a mountainous land of opportunity for those willing to take it, rose high above their caravan, awing to the southern Vance, who had never been much beyond Kansas or it's few surrounding states.
As they arrived in Enumclaw, the steady tapping of hammers and nails, poles and spikes driven into the dirt from the new-arriving Pacific Railroad met them, ringing through the white-painted shops by the dirt roadside, the enormous shadow of Mount Rainier encompassing them like a looming bird.
"...Whoa." Vance whispered, craning his neck to stare up at the snow-tipped mountain.
"Not like Sunflower, is it?" Bailey chuckled, tapping the reins again and pushing the horses forward. "If we're lucky," He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax his spine from being stuck in it's harsh curve all day. "We'll just grab the ponies and start up the damn hill."
"Wait, we have to climb that thing?" Vance gaped openly now. "How in Hell are we going to get the boxes up?"
"You'll see." Daniel chuckled as he lead the group around the corner, hopping off Snowflake's saddle and knocking on the door of an older barn, covered with new paint. "Stiles! Stiles, open up!"
An elderly man with little hair and a permanently furious face tore open the door, aiming a shotgun at the lot of them, growling low.
"Whoa, whoa!" Gabriel yelped, stepping away, closer to Jet.
"Danny?" The man snapped gruffly, swinging a squinty glare to the tall, well-dressed man. "Danny, if that's you, boy, y' have to start sayin' it." 'Stiles' lowered his gun, Gabriel and Vance slowly stepping out from behind their hiding places.
"Sorry, Stiles." Daniel gave a slightly flippant wave. "I need to borrow three of the ponies and the-"
"Mountain crosses, ah know." Stiles grumbled, turning around and walking in. "Bring yours in here, I'll get'cha the ponies."
The next half hour was filled with the sounds of the group unloading the wagon, watering the horses and getting them set in their stalls, aside from Snowflake, who seemed quite determined not to enter such a small, confined space.
After that, three horses with thick, stout legs that were most certainly not ponies were hooked to strange triangular-shaped contraptions, no wheels on them, just stilts that would drag behind. Snowflake also received one of those, but her's was distinctly longer and thicker, able to be piled with more of the boxes than any of the 'ponies'.
Gabriel left Jet with grumpy Stiles on the reassurance from Daniel that Stiles was a good caregiver to animals, but his attitude to humans could leave much to be desired.
Kinda obvious. Gabriel agreed silently, stepping onto the back of the sorrel horse, her mane well-brushed but short and matte. She stamped her hooves as a steadying action, already prepared to climb the rough slope, where a barely-present pathway slid through the trees, as Daniel had explained.
"Sorry to run out on you again, Stiles, but we do have to be up this mountain." Daniel excused, turning Snowflake toward the door.
"Yeah, yeah... Git out." Stiles waved them off. "Git up that darn hill before nightfall. You know it gets cold up there."
"Thanks again, Stiles!" Daniel called over his shoulder, turning Snowflake back out the exit, leading the newly outfitted troupe back through the city, and closer to the looming shadow of the mountain.
"This bloody mountain... It looks insane! Why in the name of God's green earth did you build it up here?"
"Good question." Bailey grumbled. "Have to climb this darn thing every few weeks."
"Good exercise, considering that we have to walk the last leg." Daniel purred. "It was built on the mountain for defence. Plus, it's one of the most densely magic areas on earth."
"And huge." Bailey added. "It's gonna be bigger than anything you boys have seen before."
"Well... I'll judge that when we get up there."
"Prepare to be amazed."
-{[|]}-
During the last leg of their trek, Gabriel started to feel the low hum of power through the ground, and anything less than an Archangel probably would've turned back. He could feel the wards, the salt, and the energy swirling and coursing through the rest of the area, like it's own heartbeat. This is going to sting. He sighed, preparing to just block the angel warding and walk on through.
Then, rather abruptly, searing pain shot through his stomach, prompting him to drop to one knee with an arm around his gut. He didn't even know what was wrong, burning agony eating his chest alive, grace snapping and crackling in absolute panic. His vision tunnelled, unable to see much beyond the pinprick of forest floor that lay under his nose.
After the initial gasp it took out of him, he felt his grace receding, curling within his vessel so small he could barely sense it, a tiny flower concealed within his heart.
"Whoa, Gabriel..." Vance's hand was on his shoulder. "You alright?"
Returning to himself was a difficult process, but enough breathing struggled through it, vision once again widening to encompass the whole area, greeted by Bailey and Daniel's nervous glances to each other.
"Wha..." Gabriel panted before breaking down into a coughing fit, hacking angrily into his elbow.
"Yeah, what the hell?" Vance growled, turning his head to glare at Daniel, as if it was somehow his fault.
"...Hang on a moment." Daniel looked outward, at the surrounding woods, before dismounting from Snowflake and stepping through the underbrush, a soft whistling of wind following him.
When he returned, Gabriel felt slightly better, but not much so. His grace was still doing knots in his chest, but it no longer felt like he was being stabbed. Admitted, Vance and Bailey had dragged him back a good five feet, but he didn't even know what had hit him.
"I gave Fiend the information. Blackbird's probably fixing it as we speak." Daniel murmured as he jogged back over, every so often checking his shoulder.
"What the hell was that? Ward gone wrong?"
"Probably altitude. We have some chemicals around the area. Fiend and Blackbird are a pair of our guardians. They watch the area. Gabriel potentially just hit one of the gas bombs." Daniel scrubbed through the dirt for a moment, then pulled up a small, ball-looking deflated item.
"That's what dropped him?" Vance sounded skeptical, glancing from the paper bag to Gabriel, who was struggling to his feet.
"Yes." Daniel said decisively.
That's not what dropped me! Gabriel wanted to scream. You know something! You know it's warding! With a huff, he straightened with a soft groan, massaging his chest where his grace took the brunt of the damage.
"You good, Gabriel?" Vance questioned.
Not really. Still can't feel my grace, and everything hurts. "Yeah, I'm fine." Gabriel groaned, easing upright and leaning on the horse beside him. "Just need t' sit down for a minute..." He mumbled as he started to sink back again.
"Nope. Not happening. The base is only a bit more, you can make five minutes." Bailey encouraged, walking away from his horse to grab Gabriel and help him stabilize himself against the creature's flank.
The going was slow, between Vance's wariness and Gabriel's desire to curl into his stomach with every ripple that flowed through his grace, like waves of pins slicing through his True Form.
"You going to be alright, there, Gabriel?" Vance looked over for the fifteenth time, concern echoing off him.
"Let's just..." The Archangel took a deep breath. "Get... to the base."
"It won't get better." Daniel growled almost directly beside his ear, making Gabriel jump. He hadn't heard the other man's approach.
"Pardon?" Gabriel hissed, fingers tightening on his chest.
"It won't get better in the base. I've got a spell in my jacket, enough to put down your grace for a few hours."
"Wh-what?!" He burst out, slightly louder, the sharp action making his grip slip, landing Gabriel in the dirt once more.
Daniel was beside him in an instant. "Bailey, take Vance, meet me at the entrance. I'll let Gabriel get his breath back."
With a nod, Bailey grabbed Vance's reins, pulling the two horses away, deeper into the trees.
"What... are you talking about... 'Grace'?" Gabriel gritted out, the agony ripping through him like a furious rougarou.
"You're an angel. I can tell. Nothing else would've been able to stay alive after passing through that barrier." Daniel fumbled about in his coat. "Now look, I don't know how powerful you are, but for the duration of your stay in my Bunker, you're now powerless, got me?"
"You're... awfully trusting... of an angel... you've never met." Gabriel chuckled breathlessly.
"I've learned to work on a few other things," Daniel tapped the glasses that hung low on his nose. "than just trust."
"Malicae... wards in those?"
"That'd be the one." Daniel handed him a small vial of a powder-purple, gritty looking fluid. "It's not going to taste good."
"If it stops... ripping me open..." Gabriel snarled, taking the vial and shooting it back. He trusted the Men of Letters, and he had heard some of the reports on people who had worked for North. Vampire guards, Werewolf librarians, even an angel guard who had vanished a few years before, they were all members.
It was only a short few seconds that felt far too long before his grace began to cool, his breathing lengthening steadily as his body relaxed, energy sealing away within himself as the potion did it's deed, coiling away his grace as if it were a marble, concealing it.
And then Gabriel was human.
He breathed steady and low, supported upright only by Daniel's hand on his shoulder, until he shook his head and refocused.
To any other angel, the world would've been silent and colourless, but Gabriel knew how to be more human than anyone else. He was fully aware of how beautiful earth was without grace-glasses.
"Kicking in yet?"
"Yeah." The Archangel nodded, grabbing the tree behind him to push off, rising from the forest floor. "We should get moving."
When the pair got back on the path, Gabriel couldn't help nervously glancing around the trees. Without his grace to tell him where the heartbeats and souls of every surrounding thing was, his anxiety rose up, showing things shifting through the shadows as if they were alive.
Though, he couldn't decide if the constantly dipping, weaving, presence-like shadow was real or not.
When they caught up to the others, it was just as they arrived in front of the huge iron door, carved into the rock. Extremely well hidden, from any sort of angle, but when Daniel stepped forward with a key, Gabriel noticed it instantly.
"Well, let's see this grand base of yours." Vance smiled, but Gabriel could detect the waver of nervousness that went through the other.
"Prepare yourselves." Daniel purred, and with one final clank, the door swung inward, drawing the whole group into a deep grey, blown-out tunnel.
"...Huh." Gabriel mumbled, rather unimpressed. He knew their had to be more, but he wasn't aware of how much more, not without his grace, which was unresponsive to his commands utterly.
"The horses go over here." Daniel beckoned them, and the horses - evidently used to being in the dark, confined space - went without issue.
When the boxes were unloaded and piled in the dark hallway, Daniel started to lead them down the path and to a second door. "Here we are..." He smiled happily, evidently pleased to be back where he would've called 'home'.
And when that door unlocked and opened, Gabriel and Vance were floored.
It was wider, longer and more open than the South Bunker. Standing on the balcony beside the stairs, they could look an easy few dozen feet in either direction, rows upon rows of bookshelves filling the space.
The wood that made up the interior walls was a warm colour, leading Gabriel to wonder if one of the witches had dyed it to keep it more friendly-looking. It certainly held the brilliant appearance of a home, smelling softly of some sort of incense, lit by a few magically-made lights.
It sprawled across the interior of the mountain, at least triple the size of the South Bunker, if they had been laid together. As he descended the stairs into the enormous library, he caught sight of a set of stairs against the wall, where it evidently led to another floor, and then the second set just underneath them, for the basement.
How big is this place? He gaped at it. Heaven was beautiful, yes, but it never held quite the same wonder to him as a human's home. Homes were places of love and relationships, and this place, the huge base, felt like a home.
"This is..." Vance breathed, staring around in slight awe.
"Second floor, door number four is the spare bedroom. There's three beds in there, so take your pick." Bailey called from the top of the stairs, where he was holding onto a large, heavy box full of books. "Hey, Dan, if you're done showing off, can you call- oof- Deemer? We've got to get these inside."
"Yep, I can get him. I'll come help too, I just want to get Gabriel and Vance to Jackson." Daniel returned over his shoulder, only to hear a loud thud and another curse. "Nevermind. Just keep going straight, you'll find the main room. Gabriel, can you take a peak down the right hallway there? See if you can find Jackson. He's short, black and white hair." The well-dressed man informed, before spinning around and heading back up the stairs.
"This place is massive." Gabriel whispered to Vance as they headed forward, eventually coming out of the huge library, and into an area that resembled the War Room, but was so much larger and fancier, more magic run and magic built, soft edges and thin lines of faintly glittering silver that ran up and down everything, wreathing through the wood and the floor, as if this Bunker had it's own heartbeat.
"No kidding... I'm going to wait here, you go see if you can find Jackson." Vance smirked at him.
"How come I get all the hard jobs?"
"Because Daniel told you to do it. You get to explore the base though!"
"That helps so much." Gabriel sighed, but turned down the right hallway and into more of the library. Evidently, it made up most of the base.
The books hidden in the North Bunker were ancient, some dating back or copied from scripts before the birth of Christ, and Gabriel, even with his grace as buried and limited as it was, could sense the power within the place.
He walked slowly through the shelves, mouthing the words from their spines, telling him where they were from, how old they were, what they were, authors, titles, languages... Most of it was in varyingly styled, tiny print, labels and numbers well-made and with an air of perfection.
When a book, 'Judicave Damondes', caught his eye, and he turned to take it, a new voice met him.
|Well now, aren't you unique?| It said, echoing through his mind sharply, like the call of some being far different than a human.
Gabriel stepped from the shelf, searching around and spotting nothing, until he finally drifted over the darkened corner some feet away, a pair of hazel-green eyes staring back at him.
And from the shadows, with the flowing, elegant strut of his species, a cat emerged.
He had mid-length fur, longer than any normal American barn cat, and he was majorly a brilliant, crisp, dark auburn-orange, as though he was a perfectly cooked bread. Streaked through the fluffy fur was black, lines that flowed and faded through his fur with his movements, as though watercolours, constantly fading.
For a moment, without his grace, Gabriel was entirely lost. He turned away from the cat, searching for the source of the voice instead.
|You are not deaf, nor blind...| The voice spoke again, and Gabriel peeked around the corner.
"...Hello?" He called. "Vance, if you're playing a trick on me-"
|I can reassure you, this is no trick.| The cat was now beside him, staring up with a small glare and no small amount of disapproval.
"Well, Vance, if you somehow managed to sound slightly sophisticated, that's magic right there..." Gabriel bent down, reaching to pet what might've been the North Bunker's mascot.
Only to receive a stinging bite in response.
Gabriel jumped back with a yelp, staring at the cat as it rolled it's eyes and approached. |Are you listening now?| It asked, and the Archangel desperately wanted to facepalm himself.
"God, you're a familiar." He groaned. "I'm an idiot..."
The cat chuckled in it's deep mental voice. |That I am, and that you are. You are new here.|
"I'm uh... sorry for bothering you. And ignoring you." Gabriel smiled sheepishly at the cat. He knew a shocking amount about familiars, and they weren't quite as demonic as everyone thought. Familiars were formed when excess supernatural energy took a perfect form, which was often preformed via a spell. As a result, they tended to be a mix of angelic and demonic power, more shades of grey than either. He knew that they liked to be treated well, or else they would attack simply for the offence at their disrespect.
Familiars commanded respect, and gave it freely to anyone who earned it. Even an Archangel could respect a familiar.
The cat flicked his fluffy tail, staring at Gabriel cynically. |You are forgiven, this time.| It purred. |Be thankful though, I recognized you struggling without your grace.|
Gabriel threw up his hands in defeat, prompting a chuckle from the cat. "Does everyone know now, or just one more person?"
|It is simply me. I imagine Bailey suspects, and Fiend most certainly knows.| The cat purred out, as though mocking Gabriel.
"Aw, man... I'm going to have to remake my identity."
|Not so, angel.| The cat bunted his hand. |I shall not expose you, and neither shall anyone else in this Bunker. We are slightly different than you lowland barbarians.| The cat sniffed derisively, head raised to the side in a 'hmfp' pose.
"'Lowland barbarians', huh? Well, is there anything this 'lowland barbarian' can call you?" Gabriel questioned.
|I have gone by many names, but the one I possess at the moment is Jinn.| He grinned, all fangs and sharp teeth, before trotting slightly closer to Gabriel and gently nuzzling his arm. |Why was six afraid of seven?| Jinn inquired, staring up at Gabriel with his off-green, mint-hazel eyes.
The Archangel rolled his eyes. "Because seven ate nine."
|And why did seven eat nine?| Jinn's catlike grin had grown to a near-Cheshire level.
"Uh..." Gabriel paused. "I'm uh..."
|You must eat three squared meals a day, Gabriel. Try that aisle.| The familiar let out one final rumble before turning away, and with a flick of his elegant, long tail, he turned the corner, and vanished from Gabriel's view, leaving the Trickster staring in his wake.
Gabriel's eyes narrowed for a moment, considering the cat's words, before standing up and turning the corner, walking around the corner to section three.
In the middle of shelves D and E, stood an older man with his coat slung over one shoulder, carefully flipping through a large tome he held braced against his ribs.
"Uh, Jackson?" Gabriel asked, making the man's head snap up, which was when Gabriel figured out that he wasn't as old as he looked, first glance. His hair had simply greyed early, more salt-and-pepper than true grey though.
"...Yes?" His voice was suspicious, examining the stranger before him with a quick, evaluating glance.
"Daniel wanted you to see us..?"
"Oh, you're from South." Jackson immediately relaxed, smiling calmly at Gabriel. "Yes, come on. Back to centre." He nodded, slipping the book back into it's designated place before leading Gabriel to the main room once more.
Now, Vance sat at a table observing as Bailey, Daniel and a massive other man emptied the boxes. The newcomer had to be at least a half-foot taller than Gabriel, with arms the width of some trees and a shaggy beard. He looked like a hermit, or perhaps a lumberjack.
"Look at this, I'm willing to bet none of them even know what this is." Daniel rolled his eyes as he pulled out a long, cherry wood bow. "Nevermind how to shoot it."
"Stop badmouthing our brothers from the South." The bear-man stated gruffly.
"Yeah, alright..." He sighed, laying the bow back in it's case. "Oh, hey, Gabriel found Jackson. Boss, we've got some new stuff."
"Yes, so I heard. Anything of particular interest?"
"An Amazonian bow, and a few books on angels and the like." Bailey listed. "I'm more interested in a few of the spellbooks, but these work too."
"Spellbooks?" Bear-man questioned.
"We have one here with some residual and information from the book, as in capital 'B'."
"The..?" Jackson made a small hand gesture.
"Other one." Bailey's jaw skewed slightly in displeasure.
"Oh."
Gabriel glanced to Vance, who only shrugged. There was a brief lull in their conversation, before Jackson glanced over at them again. "If you two want to, you can take a look through the library. It's here for use, after all. Just make sure you put stuff back where you found it."
"Sure." Vance smiled slightly, standing. "Come on, Gabe. Let's go see what this huge place has to offer."
"It's more than huge, trust me." Gabriel laughed as he followed. "It's absolutely massive."
"You got to take a walk before me, but that doesn't mean I believe yo-" Vance stared out at the arranged shelves. "...Nevermind."
"It's something else, isn't it?" He chuckled, stepping into the library and gazing around with an impressed face. "They've got a familiar in here, too." He told, not wanting Vance to flip and attack the cat. "Big cat, auburn. He looks like toast."
"Good toast?"
"Good toast." Gabriel confirmed.
"I'll keep that in mind." Vance checked the upper shelves for evidence of the familiar's presence, but they were truly masters of unseen, unheard movement. "De'van should get a familiar." He said abruptly.
"He really should. He'd be way more powerful with a familiar by his side." Gabriel agreed, drifting through the library and once again reading off the labels.
When he got through one section, he suddenly understood why his grace and his Trickster power had basically caved in on themselves when he came into the protective ring of sigilwork and energy. The knowledge contained in this base would dwarf any contained in the other three Bunkers put together, and possibly everything in all the chapterhouses as well. If anything bad got in here, it would be a disaster... Gabriel though, fingers skimming over the books' spines.
The place was a treasure trove, all sorts of information laying across the shelves and arranged on tables, research for all kinds of beasts and beings.
|Jinn told me about you.| A new voice greeted him, musical and brilliant, calm and clear. |He said you were a curious thing.|
Gabriel turned to see a second familiar, but this one was white, black stripes making him resemble a Siberian tiger, amber-gold eyes watching Gabriel with muted curiosity. It jumped up to the table closest to him, observing.
"Another one of you." Gabriel murmured.
|Just us two, in this place.| The new cat replied quietly. |I am Kesmet. And you are an Archangel.|
Gabriel chuckled faintly, running a hand down one book about angels. "I wish, Kesmet. I wish I still could be called that."
Kesmet's eyes studied the book, then him for a moment. |You feel you have used Loki's powers for so much-|
"How in the world can you even tell?" The... not-Archangel growled viciously, and was immediately greeted with a deeply unimpressed glare. "...Sorry." He mumbled. Archangels were extremely powerful, but he still didn't want to press his luck with a familiar. If Kesmet or Jinn struck first, chances had it they'd disable a good portion of his powers before he could strike back, and that would be a disaster.
Let's not test it. Gabriel decided, sighing quietly.
|You feel,| The cat continued with a haughty sniff. |as if you have used Loki's powers for too much. And as such, you feel like you are no longer an Archangel.|
"It's... true." Gabriel agreed.
|Don't.| Kesmet ordered shortly. |Do not feel like something you aren't. You are an Archangel, and whether or not you use those abilities does not make or break that birth.|
Gabriel blinked in shock at the cat.
|And do not try to separate yourself from what you are. You were born like this, and you will die like this. Do not resent something you could not control.| He dipped his head, amber eyes glittering.
"...Then what do you think I should do?" He questioned, the familiar staring back at him with a sort of pity, but also sympathy.
|Stop trying to be something you aren't.| Kesmet turned around, jumping down from the table where he sat. |It won't satisfy you, Gabriel.|
His black-tipped tail flicked around a shelf, and he was gone.
{?, 2014}
Archangel Gold's blade, slipped between his fingers, seemed too long and light against any lesser angel's blade. The two noncombatants, the one who had introduced herself as Miraim carrying the taller, thicker, grey-winged angel against her side.
Over the time period where Gold had been active, the angels had settled down, sinking back and away from him, not wanting to incur the wrath of the Archangel seeking them, avoiding fights more and escaping their laws.
Once upon a time, the Colour forms had used fear to keep the nephilim and giants in check, and Gold already knew, somewhere deep inside, that he could use it again.
Which meant that he had a new task once he got these noncombatants free.
When another angel, long red wings flared behind her, swept around the corner with a furious growl, Gold simply stepped forward and freed her head from her neck in a single, deft stroke, the edge of his blade smouldering with golden flames.
"Follow." He ordered, twisting into the hall with less than a weight shift, wings shifting to accommodate the movement with a razor-sharp defence, another angel shooting from the sidelines to attack.
Gold parried the initial thrust, deflecting the blade between him and the wall. The angel's arm, trapped now and hyperextended, Gold pressed down on until it broke, feeling the muscle fibres rip and shred as if paper.
The angel let out a howl, his True Form assaulted by the Archangel pinning him, as Gold slammed his hand down, preventing any shift in motion before flipping his blade around and driving it into the angel's neck.
After pulling it free, Gold spun around, slashing without hesitation at a newcoming angel who had just turned around the corner.
Clutching the red mess where her throat used to be, the angel staggered back with a gurgling choke, wide hazel eyes barely flicking up to meet Gold's before he brought down the knife effortlessly, through her neck and spine, and into the wall behind.
Miriam's eyes were huge and horrified at the ease of which he took out the angel. He had a job to do, and if Heaven objected, then God could come down and stop him.
His grace expanded, drifting through the molecules of walls as he searched, confirming the lack of other angelic life. When he retracted his True Self back into his vessel, he turned to the noncombatants.
"I will take you to Alaska. There is a base there." He stated simply, pulling the information from the back of his memories. Why is it buried? He wondered for a second, before he shook off the question and ignored it, focus taking over instead.
Gold shifted his weight, wings extending as he pushed forward to test the warding. Will not cause permanent damage to break free of. Save the noncombatants first. He decided, reaching back to grab the other angels, drawing them closer to his vessel in preparation.
"A-Archangel?" The grey-winged angel questioned, eyes widening as he saw the huge sets of wings spread, their golden feathers rustling softly as the celestial being prepared himself, ready to blast through the wards as if they were simply a pathetic wall before him.
With a single downsweep of those brilliant wings, Gold shot himself forward and toward the base he knew of.
Then came the pain.
-{[|]}-
Gold flipped around, his only thought to save the combatants as energized claws raked down his wings, lighting his True Form in unknowable agony.
Wrapping the pair in his twitching, spasming wings, bracing to take the impact himself, Gold's True Form gathered in his chest, an instinct to prepare himself for the damage he was about to take, his vessel already weakened and his grace poisoned from the copper-winged angel's venom.
The initial hit was the worst, breaking his vessel's ribs and back as if nothing and jarring his True Form, flipping him over himself repeatedly as he kept the two noncombatants close, trying to preserve the next generation of Heaven. He did not matter. They did.
When they finally came to a stop, Gold was left stomach down on the ground, grace shakily expanding back over his vessel, healing what it could in it's weakened, bruised state. The other angels were concealed safely under his wings, even as the female shoved one off and took her grey-winged ally under the arm, calling to the other angels nearby for help.
Gold didn't make a noise - though his vessel wanted to - as he shuffled his wings back against his newly-healed spine, using the silver energy now sewn into his grace to cool the energy that had seared his feathers.
"Gabriel?" A voice asked him, a hand landing on his shoulder.
Gold's head snapped up to stare at the angel, who's silky brown, edged green-silver wings were half flared, recovered from an injury and feathers slowly repairing themselves.
The moment that Gold turned to look, the angel flinched back, hand lifting from his shoulder. "...Archangel Gold?" He whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. "No, no no no..." The angel dropped to his knees, grabbing to Gold's arms this time, confusing the Archangel. "Damnit, Gabriel, I told you..."
Gold was not used to this. Nor should it have been happening. The noncombatants were not to worry about him, he was simply just the engine of destruction that would ensure they were returned to the throne of Heaven.
So why is this angel concerned? Gold questioned, watching as the angel looked over his condition, checking his vessel with wide, worried eyes.
"I thought I said not to do anything stupid, you idiot!" The angel half-shouted, evidently furious about something. "And what do you go do? Fall off the grid for two months and show up again in your Colour form!" He's a seraphim. Gold realized, knowing that meant that the angel was fully aware of who he was, and what he was capable of. I will not abandon Heaven! The Archangel's wings flared backward, sweeping out as he backstroked powerfully, spinning and landing on his feet.
The next stroke shot him into the sky, away from the base that would keep the angels he had rescued safe, even though his wings burned with pain.
-{[|]}-
Calgary. 11:36 AM. Montana's on Scarcee Trail. Bright outside, but overcast coming for 1:52 PM.
There were six demons inside the establishment.
High ranking members of Abbadon's new crowd, the demons were to continue their host's former job temporarily, until they were called to possess the patrons of the restaurant.
His vessel was not functioning at peak capacity, and he would soon need to stop, but for that moment, Gold had to press forward.
He slumped slightly, put on a soft smile and stepped into the diner.
"Hello sir!" The woman standing at the door greeted.
"Hi. Can I get a table for two?" He said carefully, acting perfectly human.
"Oh, a date?" She questioned with a smile, picking up two menus.
"Yep." Gold purred, following her through the restaurant to a two-seat table, sitting down as she got his water.
Gold ignored the drink, the other patrons, and the waiter's slightly pitying glances as he observed the people who stood around, grace reaching out and searching for the demons that hid within the restaurant.
Two were customers, one was at the bar, and three stayed ensconced in the kitchen, surrounded by knives and other useful items that could be used to damage his weakened vessel.
The kitchen first. It will cause less collateral damage and panic, and a narrower space. He decided, rising from his seat with a quick glance around, immediately beginning to decide his direction of attack.
He headed for the washrooms first, but at the last second slipped his sword into his hand and swung into the kitchen, wings hanging low on his back.
The demons were in the back corner, their smoky red and black bodies hiding within the human they appropriated. The third, with oddly light smoke, stared at him from the cutting block, eyes narrowing in a second.
The fight broke out within seconds.
It began with the black-eyed demon whipping a knife in his direction, which prompted the Crossroad's demon to shoot over one of the stove with a kick, stealing a cleaver as the humans in the room yelled, calling for help and other things.
The white-eyed demon raised his hand, a long knife-sharpener in the corner rising at his call to slot itself through the bars of the door, then bending as if made of rubber to knot the door shut.
Then came the real fight.
The pale wings of the white-eyed demon spread, all four an intimidating cross-shape behind his back, while Gold countered by spreading out his own wings.
While the soft cream colour of the white-eyed demon was no Knight of Hell's multi-toned red and blue spectrum, they were not to be disregarded in the slightest. White-eyed demons, Lilith's children, were the most powerful of their brethren, their ability to use psychic and magic energy unrivalled by anything in the natural world, aside from angels.
Subject; Lilith. Deceased. No longer a threat, but her offspring provide a danger.
The other demons quickly started to realize that in this combat, they would be not more than fodder, backing up and beginning to flee, the Crossroad's simply spreading his wide, bright red wings and vanishing while the black one turned and sprinted for the bar, possibly to assist the demon their in escaping.
The first thing that the white-eyed demon did, was flare the stoves.
Fire lit up the kitchen even brighter than before, forcing the humans to begin fleeing as the alarms sprang to life, roaring in their ears as they shot, golden wings against cream, and the battle for dominance began.
-{[|]}-
Status; Failed.
Gold had failed.
Two demons had escaped, both Crossroads. The others didn't get nearly so lucky, with Gold catching them, wings bleeding and grace singing with pain, but nevertheless, he got them.
Now, though, his vessel was weak, broken, bleeding, his wings twisted and bruised, and his grace drained.
One more mission. His grace whispered as he spread his wings. Find the Crossroad's demons.
With a finalizing downstroke, Gold streaked into the air, vanishing beyond the clouds.
{LINEBREAK}
The first Crossroad's demon had escaped to a densely populated base sixty miles south of Chicago's city limits, a stone-grey building with bright lights and heavy shadows, filled with flat-pack boxes.
Gold flew in swift and silent this time, creeping up on his specific target with the grace of a cat.
Then the stack of crates he was on shifted.
His wings flared out, grace shrieking at him to stop and flee, he was too damaged for this, Gold couldn't fight like this-
When he hit the ground in the middle of a gathering of demons.
The wooden boxes split, throwing splinters in all directions with vigour, spearing a few possessed humans and landing in his shoulder, arm and leg with the force of a small gun.
Gold spun to his feet, wings spread wide as the demons roared their challenge, his sword summoned and cutting through their ranks swiftly, grace exhaustion not giving him a single pause as he pushed far beyond what his limit should've been.
"Of all the idiotic... I can't let you soft fools do anything, can I?" A new voice rose over the battle, causing all of them to freeze, uncertain.
Knight. Gold just about shot at the demon coming right then and there, but he would not survive the fight with a Knight of Hell as weak as he was. He'd need to recover.
Gold stumbled upright, blade held at his side, just as Abaddon, the Knight, stepped into view.
Her eyes widened upon seeing Gold, evidently surprised and potentially a little scared. After all, there were two things that could kill a Knight of Hell.
The First Blade.
And the weapon that fell softly into Gold's hand.
Abaddon screeched wildly as her hellfire claws arched from her fingers, wings, huge and violet-spectrum, flared to the side. Gold let out an equal roar and shot at her, blade ready for a deadly slash.
The ringing clash of hellfire meeting grace would've deafened any human within the area, the red sparks breaking with blue grace and roaring their rage against each other.
Then Abaddon pushed him back with a sweeping stroke and vanished, wings shooting her out of the building and away into the sky.
Gold's own wings spread to try and keep up, but his top left wing failed, sinking as his other ones rose. The demons had already scattered, fleeing his presence and undying (but now dying) light.
Gold flailed slightly, trying to regain the height lost and give chase, but his grace was already drained. He was running out of time.
After his foot touched to the ground, he kicked up again, his grace screaming against him to stop, but he ignored it, flying south for the second Crossroad's that had escaped.
-{[|]}-
Status; Successful.
Gold's grace fluttered under his vessel, utterly useless. It was too weak, too drained.
The limp demon under his body still held the knife upright in it's chest, where the point had stabbed through it's sternum and through it's true form.
The barn where it had hidden was old and musty, filled with half-rotting machines that cast intricate shadows under the light of his wings.
He didn't need to think, his hand going back over the handle of the knife while his wings, shaking and exhausted, spread once more for take off.
Then the door opened.
Gold spun as fast as he could in his current, mangled state, glaring at the newcomers to the scene. Normally, he would just fly away. No witnesses, no further casualties needed, but between his damaged wings and dead grace, he was running on empty. Gold was trapped.
Two people entered.
An angel, alone in his vessel, and a human.
Tan coat, black wings, blue eyes. He registered, eyes narrowing. Combatant. The human beside the angel was taller, thicker, and had longer brown hair. His soul was marred brutally, scarred and stained by a slip of red blood buried underneath a layer of old grace, but it still glowed stunningly bright.
Gold pushed off his knees, removing his blade from the target's sternum, blood dripping from the tip.
"...Sam." The angel said, backing up, blue eyes blown wide with fear. "Sam we have to leave."
"What? Cas, why?!"
"Sam, that isn't Gabriel." The angel explained shortly, pulling on the human's arm. "We need to leave now."
Gold could hear the words, but they didn't hold any meaning to him. The last words of dying creatures to him.
"Sam!" The angel exclaimed, a waver of fear making it into his voice, pulling on the human's arm again.
Threat to the mission. Kill them both. He perceived, flipping his blade around in his hand to hold backward.
The human, though, didn't move. He just stood there, tough and tall, until Gold got into striking range.
With inhuman speed, Gold moved, slashing for the human. The human, somehow, dodged, stumbling backward with wide hazel eyes. The colour doesn't matter. Ignore.
Gold didn't say anything as he attacked again, the human jumping away. "Gabriel!" He called, desperately avoiding the blade. "Come on, look, it's me! It's Sam!"
"Sam, he can't hear you! That's not Gabriel in there!" The angel cried from the side.
"It's Gabriel all right." The human snarled, glaring at him. "Galurmedged! Malsmedgisgfam!" He demanded.
Gold faltered, the direct order forcing him to lock up, to stop attacking the human in front of him. ...How did it know my name? And... This one is trusted. He realized. Safe. Protect this human and angel.
The human immediately sighed, shoulders slumping as Gold froze, his eyes glittering with amber energy as he settled, stepping out of stance and lowering his sword to his side.
"...You can speak Enochian?" The angel questioned, eyes wide.
"Slightly." The human, the trusted, responded. "Not well. He started teaching me." Tipping his head toward Gold, the human glanced away. "Uh... Galurmedged." He called, making Gold's head snap to face him. "That's creepy, ok... Uh, galdonmedvanfam... gonunvanun?" The human asked.
With a flick of his wrist, his grace reabsorbed the sword for hiding, letting it vanish into his core being.
"Huh, alright, that worked..." The human said, stepping closer. "My god, Gabriel..." He whispered, putting one hand on Gold's shoulder and cringing at the wounds he could feel under the jacket. "Jeez, Cas, he's screwed up."
"That's not Gabriel, Sam. That is Archangel Gold." The angel growled, wings flicking nervously behind him.
"Archangel Gold?" The human asked, peeling back the edge of his vessel's coat, trying to get a better view of his injuries.
"A colour form." The angel hissed, moving around the pair carefully. "He's been in this form a while. Too long."
"Colour form?" The human repeated, starting to pull off Gold's jacket. "Ururgongisgfam." He ordered when Gold shifted, and the Archangel stilled. "This is really weird, Cas. He's not even reacting when I touch this one on his arm." The human poked at a long cut on his vessel. "He's just a robot."
"Yes, base programming and unconfined power." The angel nodded agreeably.
"And he's answering to Gold..." The human hummed softly, as if making up his mind. "Galurmedged. Nafamgonurgeddruxgraph." It sounded like a request, but phrased as an order.
"Yes." Gold responded immediately.
"Ok, wow, so that worked... Huh." The human smiled at him. "Cas, how do I shut down colour form?"
"...I don't know, Sam. The Archangels were the only keepers of that knowledge." The angel took another step closer, but flinched away again when Gold turned to stare at him.
"No, no, Gold. Castiel is a friend." The human ordered, bringing Gold's focus back to him. "How to fix you..."
"The colour forms were brought out to protect Heaven under extreme circumstances." Castiel, the angel, tried to move in again, but this time, Gold didn't react.
"Ok... Archangel Gold, what is your mission." The human demanded.
"Protect Heaven. Kill all combatant angels and protect noncombatant angels." Gold stated coldly.
Castiel's eyes went wide in realization. "Sam, Gold is the one killing the angels."
"What?!" The human exclaimed, looking between Castiel and Gold. "...Then I think I know how to fix this." He murmured, grabbing Gold by the shoulders. "Gold, mission over." The human stated.
Gold blinked in confusion. That had not been what he had expected.
"Yeah, mission over. C'mon. It's time to go back to being Gabriel, ok?" The human's soul was kind, his touch gentle, trying to call forth something deep inside Gold himself.
Mission over... His grace whispered.
Then, for a moment, he saw the human's face through the glow of his soul.
What..? Gold wanted to ask, right as the human smiled.
"Mission over, Gold." The human repeated, taking off his own coat to place over Gold, who had just noticed that his vessel was shaking. Blood was running down his arms in small streams, soaking into his shirt as he shivered. "You did well." He repeated. "Vanmedgon galgongal ururgraphvan."
The grace of the angel and the soul of the human seemed to slip through his grasp like water, eyes refocusing as his chest spasmed, vessel unable to cope with sensations it wasn't supposed to have.
"There you go..." The human- Sa- human human encouraged, hands still gently resting on his shoulders. "C'mon..."
"Sam." Cas- Castiel said, voice low.
"It's working, Cas, hang on." Sa- hum- Sam encouraged, smiling at Go- Gab- Gold, Gold calmly.
"Sam." Castiel repeated.
"Just a second, Cas."
"Sam!" Castiel shouted, making the human turn away.
Go- Gabriel finally opened his mouth, taking in a choking swallow of air, his vessel screaming back to life, savaging at his grace with new ferocity, demanding repayment for his mistreatment and abuse to it.
Gabriel dropped to his knees, legs unable to support his vessel's weight anymore, gasping like a fish as his grace, weak and drained as it was, was forced to help liquidize his blood, restart his heart, pulling him to pieces.
"Gabriel? Gabriel!?" Sam shouted as Gabriel's vision flickered, clouding over with a soft white and blue haze that seemed to surround everything, grace ringing in his ears as everything rose up, higher and higher, a wave building as it drew everything back into his centre. The pain began to fade, to fall away, just fill him instead with the soft sensation of lost power, dazed and confused.
Then it all came crashing down, and Gabriel knew no more.
Merry nondescript holiday my dudes, and have a happy whatever.
You heathens.