Chapter Eight
"Where'd I screw up?" The angel asked.
Sam replied that he hadn't, to which Hope muttered "Speak for yourself."
She was ignored. Apparently by this point her brothers had figured out she never, ever took anything at face value.
Dean waxed poetic about how you only got that angry if you were talking about your own family. Hope might have protested, but she couldn't be bothered.
"So, which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy or Douchey?" Sam demanded. Hope's ears pricked up.
"Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."
Damn. She hadn't worked that out. Maybe sometimes asking did actually work.
"Gabriel? The archangel?" Sam inquired.
Hope cut in with "You know any others?" She got glared at.
"Guilty," said the archangel. He looked kinda resigned, thought Hope. He looked kinda like she felt, a lot of the time.
"Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?" Dean asked Gabriel.
"My own, private, witness protection," he answered. Hope sort of liked him, to be honest.
"I skipped out of Heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world… till you three screwed it all up."
"In my defense, you kidnapped me! I know a pagan god when I see one, okay? Not my fault you blew your cover," Hope told him.
She was starting to wonder whether it was International Ignore Hope Winchester Day.
"And what did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?"
Hope snorted "From what I've either guessed or heard, nothing."
"She's right," Gabriel said.
"Then what happened? Why'd you ditch?" Sam interrupted.
"Well, do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douche-nozzles."
Hope sucked in a breath. She could see where this was going.
"Shut your cake-hole," Gabriel spat.
Yep, she was right.
"You don't know anything about my family."
This was going to escalate, Hope could tell. She started talking. "All right, all right! Dean, you of all people should probably have figured out that was a bad idea. I mean, jeez, you're worse than Dad when it comes to family."
She looked at Gabriel in the ring of holy fire "He didn't mean anything. Except, of course, the only thing stopping them from blowing up the world because one of them decided he didn't want to do what God said like a million years ago is us, and, no offense to anyone, that's going to be literal overkill. I mean, Zeus, can't they talk it out like civilized people?"
"You obviously haven't met my brothers."
"I've yet to have that honour, admittedly."
Apparently her share of the conversation was now over.
Gabriel turned back to Sam and Dean "You should know what it's like."
Hope's mental gears started whirring. Her brothers, who had never really understood subtext, bless them, juts looked vaguely confused.
"Oh. Oh, that is beautiful. That is poetry, that is. That is just... I mean, wow. I hate the lot of you, except Cas, but I gotta hand it to you, you're not half bad at a nice plan. I'm right, aren't I? I do understand?"
"How would I know?" Gabriel answered.
She waved her hands excitedly "It's all about the parallels, isn't it? I mean, I struggled through all Chuck's books - what? It was research! - And you're kinda similar to Michael and Lucifer. I'm not saying you're evil, but you were all 'Dad is fricking awesome and you basically had a huge grudge against him" She flapped at Dean and then Sam. "I, personally, do not in any way resemble the vast majority of angels I have met, but that's not the point, is it, Gabriel? Not to mention the fact I've spent the past five minutes sympathising with you, which is about as much of a coincidence as my life thus far."
Sam and Dean gazed at her in mild astonishment. "What?" She demanded. "Just 'cause you've never heard me figure something out, doesn't mean it doesn't happen."
"Somebody give the lady a prize!" Gabriel suddenly cried.
Hope bowed dramatically, slightly to the astonishment of the two older Winchesters.
"All right, Sammy, Hope, we're leaving," Dean announced.
Hope straightened up and walked over to the fire alarm next to the door. "I'm gonna let you out because I like you," she said, and pulled the lever, drenching the fire.
Then she walked out, followed by Sam and Dean.
00000
In the Impala, Sam asked "How did you do that?"
"I don't really know. I've done it all my life, starting with which of my second-grade comrades had filled my shoes with mud. Jamie Keller, if anyone's interested. God, that kid was an ass. It wasn't much of a leap, but I kept doing it. I figure that everything's part of the same puzzle, and nothing's really a coincidence, you know? Not in my experience, anyway. I see the little inconsistencies, the connections between events. I really can't help it."
"So, we call you Sherlock now, or what?" Dean barked, somewhat grumpily.
Hope sighed "No. In fact, I am going to sleep now and if I start screaming about makeover shows, you can go ahead and wake me up."
Five minutes later, she was sound asleep.
"Hope, man," said Dean.
Sam considered the gangly sleeping form of his half-sister. "She tries, Dean."
"I know, Sam, but she's twelve. She should be at school, not hunting and fighting wars."
"Would you rather she ran off and did it on her own? This is her fight, Dean, and her Titan War is her fight, too. This is what we do."
Dean sighed. Hope was complicated, it was true, but she was a good person if not a particularly nice one, and she deserved better than them. She deserved a home, a family other than two half-brothers who didn't really know what to do with her.
00000
Hope didn't dream of makeover shows that night. No, this was far worse.
Lucifer stood before her, possessing Sam, and Michael, possessing Dean.
And all she could hear were pounding shouts of "Let us in! Let us in!"
And all she could say was "No!"
00000000
Okay, I know, it's been too long. I hate writer's block, I really do. I started this chapter over like three times, and it's still way shorter that I would have liked it to be, but I needed something to post.
Also, I would really love a review! It's been a while and I want to know if I'm getting better or worse and what you think of the story. I don't know how much I'll be writing over the weekend, because I have an essay to write for Thursday and not much time during the week, but I'll try.
-threelittleclouds