Title: He that Hath Ears to Hear
Prompt: Written for zekkass on livejournal: Supernatural, mute!Gabriel, the Messenger of Heaven's voice is easily recognizable by other angels...and Gabriel wanted to hide. So he made a sacrifice.
Note: Title borrowed from the Bible in reference to Matthew 11:15 (KJV).
It was the first thing to go. To hide himself from his brothers, Gabriel would have to give up what essentially made him who he was.
So he snapped his voice away-clean away, no mistakes, no forgetting, no voice . . .
After that, it's almost laughably easy to rein in grace and banish wings to another plane of existence. What's left is Gabriel's vessel (tall for this time, but a potential problem in a few centuries), and just enough spark of otherworldly power to keep the pagans interested.
They don't know what he is, but they take him in as Loki fast enough. Gabriel doesn't need a voice to cause trouble. He overstays his welcome.
There was something satisfying in being able to persuade people though actions rather than divine command. Gabriel starts to suspect that he may have unintentionally followed his Father's lead. Humans had Free Will, and trying not to impose on that when you were thousands of times more powerful was simply exhausting.
If they figure out the trick . . . if they just learn their lesson, than Gabriel rewards them.
Those that don't learn just aren't listening hard enough.
Time slips away. Winchesters come and go. Come and go. Come with Gabriel's baby brother at their heels, the first-the only one-to recognize Gabriel since Heaven.
And then Castiel keeps coming back, even after Gabriel lets the Winchesters go again. Castiel is horrified on Gabriel's behalf, distressed grace trying so hard to repair Gabriel when it can barely sustain itself. And Gabriel can't tell him that he chose this. That he wanted to have a little quiet time, a lack of say when it came to the fighting upstairs.
Castiel never listens.
Castiel never listens.
That's how Gabriel finds himself here in the same room as Lucifer with baby bro, both Winchesters, and a pagan ex in tow.
At this close range, Lucifer can identify him by sight alone. They've lost the element of surprise, and now Gabriel's hoping for sheer bluster. He's trying to cover all four potential casualties, and his vessel is too dang short for this. He tightens his grip on his blade for the first time, and it's the closest that he's been to what he once was in millennia.
And then his brother asks him why with that gentle voice and insufferable smile. Why so quiet?
That's just begging for a smart-ass quip, but Dean—normally Gabriel's go-to guy for the witty one-liners and dripping sarcasm—stays silent. The oldest Winchester has one arm around his brother and a fist full of Castiel's trench coat as he tries to get the rest of them with the program.
Escape now. Marvel over the devil later. Let Gabriel do what he does best, and serve as a distraction.
It's a good plan. A great plan, and one of the best that the Winchesters have ever come up with. It's potentially the first one not to contain self-sacrifice as a major bullet-point. There's only one problem.
". . . and serve as a distraction."
It echoes in the air around them, and only the angels know the sound for what it is. Gabriel stiffens. Lucifer smiles. And Castiel—helpless little baby angel that he is—tilts towards the sound of an older brother's voice.
It doesn't stop. The noise echoes in the room, as it continues to spill secrets and reflect on their current odds.
Kali's smart. She puts the pieces together and promptly disappears.
Gabriel wants the boys to follow her, but his traitorous voice airs the thought instantly. He had cast that awful sound as far from him as possible. He hadn't been aiming for the pit. Or maybe he had in an attempt to condemn what he hated most about himself. Gabriel doesn't know.
What he does know is that there is no way to artificially silence the Messenger. And Gabriel had been foolish to try. And maybe God isn't intervening. Maybe Michael had given up. Maybe Zachariah had the brilliant idea to jumpstart the apocalypse. Maybe Castiel chose to fall, and the Winchesters are the most stubborn humans on the face of the planet.
But Gabriel's the one who has provided the devil with running commentary for a few thousand years—and more importantly, the last year. Heck, the last four.
Along with a detailed analysis of both Winchesters . . . what makes them tick, what's their biggest weakness, who was closest to them . . . all in the name of the Lesson.
That? That's on Gabriel.
Dean grasps his shoulder, and Gabriel glances back quickly. He's gone from their greatest weapon to their biggest handicap in less than five minutes, and they still intend to take him with them.
"It's touching. It's stupid."
Gabriel turned and shoved the Winchesters back through space in one brutal blow.
Gabriel has always been good at acting without thinking. It's his default setting, really, and the boys are gone. Gone. That's the most important thing. Gabriel has work to do. He'd never wanted a say in the big fight, but it turns out that his voice has been the most influential of the Apocalypse. It's time to silence the messenger for real.
As he faces Lucifer once more with only a feeble illusion, Gabriel considers that self-sacrifice is always ends up a major bullet point in a Winchester plan.