#why is “archangel” so low like be serious

[nicosraf]

May you list out the classes of Angels in your story? I know Lucifer is a Cherubim and it’s implied that Uriel is an Ophanim and Rosier is a Seraph! What are the list of the Angel classes from the other characters? Is there a class system with the hierarchy of heaven?

Short answer: I wrote in cherubim, seraphim, and ophanim, though there isn't any hierarchy/class-system in Heaven.

Michael is a seraph (towards the end, he's described as having six wings), and I imagine Baal to be a cherub, Asmodeus to be an ophanim, Phanuel to be a seraph, Raphael to be a cherub, and Azazel to be a seraph. (I say 'imagine' because one of these might shift but I'm like 80% sure on it.)

Long answer about celestial hierarchy and etc.,:

You made a mistake asking me this because I have really strong feelings about about The Celestial Hierarchy and about Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite. I actually recently finished studying the The hierarchie of the blessed angells: their names, order and offices: the fall of Lucifer with his angells, which is some 1635 didactic poem by Thomas Haywood that I need to post pictures of because it was very pretty, so thank you for reminding me. I’m only mentioning this because Pseudo-Dionysius (and Heywood) are in this camp of theology guys who think there’s a type of angel assigned to each sphere around the Earth to correspond to the old Ptolemaic model of the universe. What this means is that most old angelology books are all trying to force this connection that isn’t biblical, and this is why the whole hierarchy is pretty messy.

Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite himself was also just someone pretending to be St. Dionysius the Areopagite. Whether he did it out of respect or to try and gain some legitimacy for his angel fanfic – who knows. Either way, I'm not a fan of him (and apparently neither was Milton, who is my lover btw), and I think there's a really long conversation to be had about why early Christian authorities may have liked the idea of a hierarchical heaven with levels of authority, rather than only God's authority reigning over paradise. Hm.

Anyway, I personally don't think a paradise can exist where there's a strict hierarchy in place. And in the Bible, there is no referenced hierarchy beyond the fact that there appears to be a chief of the angels, which is Michael. (Catholic Bibles tend to include Raphael calling himself an archangel, too, if I'm remembering correctly). The only "types" of angels that are explicitly referenced are the seraphim and cheurbim. "Ophanim" as a term isn't found in most Bibles, but they're described, so I've accepted them too. (It's worth noting that the Bible never refers to the seraphim, cherubim, or ophanim as angels, so they might not even be angels at all but some other celestial things.)

The way I interpreted it is that these three are the non-material forms of angels, which they're actually not in often. This is my personal interpretation of the fact that angels are only present and described strangely (you know, that "biblically accurate angel" meme) in proximity to God's throne.

For story reasons, angels are almost always enfleshed, so their different "types" don't come up much, but they do have casual knowledge that differences exist, like when Baal instructed Lucifer to take out "only two" wings. But it's clearly a difference that doesn't have an effect on their society.

Dw, there will be more on the "types" in the books to follow. As a side note, it was kind touchy to write the categorization at all into ABM. I didn't want to make it a big thing because 1. equality among the angels is pretty significant to the story and 2. I was afraid angel categorization could become a sort of quasi-gender or, even worse, quasi-race for them.

But yes sorry for ranting I hope this answered your question ahsjdsajdhlhjsl <3333

[crowleyholmes]

Flaming Sword Foreshadowing

Last night I was peacefully editing my video just vibing having a good time when I skipped over a scene that had confused me for a while and it struck me like lightning that it HAS to be foreshadowing because WHY ELSE would they have shot it that way????

And I have to add I'm relatively new to the fandom so I'm sure this has come up many many MANY times but to be fair I've spent the last few weeks basically living in the tags and the meta and I while I've seen the theory once in a piece of fanart, I haven't seen connections to this scene so I figured I might as well share my thoughts in case there are any other new fans like me out there who will appreciate (aka absolutely hate) it!

So one of my absolutely favorite theories is that Crowley used to be Lucifer, yes? I have many reasons why I believe this, maybe I'll make another post all about that, but for now let's just roll with it.

Okay so Aziraphale has a flaming sword. Which (I think, don't quote me on this, I'm not religious and don't know much about it at all, most of what I know comes from art and/or just general knowledge) in the Bible, is used by Michael (who is the supreme Archangel), who stabs Lucifer with it as they throw him from Heaven down to Hell, right?

And at first I wasn't too worried about that because like. Aziraphale isn't Michael. Michael, in Good Omens, neither has a flaming sword nor is the supreme archangel.

BUT NOW. At the end of season 2, who is about to become supreme archangel, taking the position that Michael has in the Bible, and owns the weapon that Michael has in the Bible?? Yeah.

So even upon this realization I was like nahhh idk it's. A fun theory but there's SO many other ways things could happen I'm overthinking this for sure.

But then I noticed this scene again with this theory in mind and WHY DID THEY SHOOT IT LIKE THIS here look I made some gifs to illustrate:

Aziraphale is standing over Crowley, sword raised as if he's going to attack him, and Crowley looks up at him TERRIFIED.

Now, I realize there are explanations for all of this, but let me elaborate on my thoughts one by one.

WHY did they make Aziraphale pick up the sword in the first place? There is NO reason for him to hold it, I mean I GUESS he's afraid of Satan, who is about to pop up for a visit, but - what's Aziraphale going to do about it, right? He's just one small low/ish-ranking angel, and the way Satan is portrayed in this show, I doubt the sword would make much of a dent in him. So, okay, perhaps Aziraphale picked it up simply to have Something, Some kind of weapon ready to feel a Little bit safer, but STILL - why pick it up one second before he turns to Crowley, why not sooner, then? And why raise it AT CROWLEY in the way that he does, when what he says to him has nothing to do with the sword at all? He would NEVER want to actually hurt Crowley. And the way this shot is framed, the way the sword is so prominent and threatening, I just don't think they did this only for comedic value (in juxtaposing the threat of the sword with "I'll never speak to you again"). He also briefly looks at the sword right after "I'll -", almost as if he's actually considering it. (OR as if he's thinking "why the hell am I holding this and why am I holding it like this, Crowley's going to think I'm going to stab him?!" which was what I WAS THINKING.) But, again, Aziraphale would NEVER point a weapon at Crowley or threaten him in any serious way - centuries ago/millenia ago, maybe, but not for a long time now, under no circumstances, not the way they are now.

Another question I have is WHY did they make Crowley fall to his knees? Sure, the earth is shaking, everybody is quite wobbly, but Crowley is so sure-footed usually, I find it hard to believe that he would fall when even Newt manages to stay on his feet (no offense Newt, I love you). But okay, I guess, maybe they wanted to show how desperate Crowley was? Visualize him giving up? I can't really argue with that one, but in combination with Everything Else, it just seems like they put them in these exact positions WAY too intentionally.

I just know that this scene is going to come back to haunt us, it will happen again but with a very different, very serious threat from (a possibly/probably memory-wiped) Aziraphale, an actually FLAMING flaming sword, and an even more desperate and terrified Crowley.

Bonus:

[itsjustlux]

figuring out who the hell Crowley is

Huge disclaimer: bible related things are extremely contradictory and i have not studied it formerly. I'm doing my best and this is all just for fun. Buckle in, this is a long one.

And yes, pun absolutely intended in the title. Now, I'll take you through my thought process step-by-step here.

Now, it's stated in s2 that Crowley must have been a throne, dominion, or higher in order to access the file. That's a great starting point. So, we're going to be looking at any angels that are a throne, dominion, cherubim, or seraphim.

I thought a good place to start would be to actually look at Crowley's rank as a demon. My thought process here was that Crowley's rank should sort of 'carry over' (at least in theory). We know he's not a duke because he's offered that as a reward in s2. But it's very difficult for me to believe he's just some random demon. I mean, he was *the* snake. Having him be the snake theoretically should place him as Lucifer, but he mentions 'hanging out with' Lucifer by name sometime in s1, so that's not right.

Here's where I hit a snag. Based on what we know of Crowley's fall (which is not a lot) he should either be a king (again, he mentions being around Lucifer in s1), a prince, or a marquise. Problem is, he can't be a prince or a king if he was offered the position of duke by Beelzebub. He's probably not a count on account (see what i did there?) of him being a demon before humanity really existed (Counts are, to my understanding, angels who Fell over being jealous of humanity).

So he's probably a marquise. Great! This would (again this is taking some massive hypothetical leaps) place him originally as a dominion. If he was a president, the equivalent would probably be a principality, which is too low. This should all work out then, right?

NOPE! It's very unlikely to me that Crowley would be a marquise especially after a) hanging out with Lucifer before Falling (which would actually place him as a king if they were close) and b) being all but outright stated to have been incredibly powerful (to the point where he basically runs a meeting between all the fancy archangels despite them all hating him).

So what gives? There's only one decent explanation I can think of.

Crowley was demoted after Falling.

Think about it for a second. Why does Shax (an actual marquise) keep asking him for help if they're the same rank and they could get in serious trouble for doing so? Why is Crowley of all people trusted to deliver the antichrist to the hospital? There were probably other options. Why do people keep asking if Crowley remembers them? It's because he was probably higher up than he is now. It's the only way any of it makes sense.

Adding onto all of this: Crowley disappears back to Hell for 35 years after doing one (1) good thing. Next time we see him, he has a cane and asks for Holy Water. Obviously the implication is...unpleasant, but I suspect this is not the first time its happened. Maybe it was worse this time for one reason or another (leading to him asking for the water), but there are thousands of years of Crowley being a good person unaccounted for. He's probably endured far more punishment than we know. The end of s1 was just the last straw.

So who is he? Well, you're probably not going to like my answer.

I don't think it matters.

I think his angel name might start with a J (Jegudiel if I had to guess right this very instant) but other than that I genuinely don't think his biblical counterpart is going to tell us all that much. I mean, does Aziraphale’s? In actuality the angel Aziraphale is fairly low down, but Neil has since clarified Aziraphale's ranking within the show. He's not the highest up, but he's certainly not no one.

And this is something I realized while making this post. If I am right and he was demoted (or at least punished by Hell more than once for being good) that has some pretty major implications for his character and why he's so insistent that he's not a good guy. 'Goodness' as a trait becomes dangerous to Crowley, something he can't identify with. He has to be evil or he'll risk punishment, even if he isn't by default. And when you're told you are (or at least should be) evil for so long, you must start to believe it at some point. And you can never open up to anyone because that emotional closeness puts you both at risk, especially if the other person is an angel. So you spend your engaging in self-sabotaging behaviors all alone because that's what you're supposed to do. And love, loving someone, well isn't admitting that just the antithesis of what you should be? Angles are characterized by their ability to love. A demon can't do that. That's what makes his little realization moment so incredible to me. It's a moment of realizing how much he cares for Aziraphale yes, but it's a look of something else too. May I propose: fear. It's a look of fear. I mean, Crowley can't even admit he might love his houseplants. How in the Something is he supposed to admit he loves an angel? He can't. Not when saving one (1) girl one (1) time had him dragged to Hell for 35 years and scared him so badly he asks for something he knows could end him.

[demonprincezeldris]

𝚁𝚎𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 (𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸)

Hello y'all! I decided to make a part 2 of Rejecting the Light. Apologies if it seems rushed. I may do a third part with Kier and his grapple with his hybrid blood. Let me know if you'd like that! Enjoy!

The clashing of swords rang through the air, steel pressing against steel. Dust stirred in the air as Tristan danced lightly on his feet, drawing his sword back to his side. A frustrated growl tore through the prince’s form, his fingers tightening on the hilt. Kier was standing just a few feet away from him, his own sword ready for any counterattack his cousin could launch. 

Tristan’s heels dug into the ground launching another attack at Kier’s form. His sword swung through the air, clashing roughly against Kier’s as he blocked it. The other prince grunted, his eyes narrowing as he tried to push back against Tristan. Both boys pressed their swords together, sparks flying through the air, neither one willing to yield. 

They had arrived back at the castle a short while ago. Instead of reporting to Meliodas on how their mission went, Tristan hauled his cousin out to the training yard to vent his frustration of what had transpired on patrol. He didn’t feel like admitting to his father that he let his anger get the best of him. But he also didn’t want to lie and say they hadn’t found anything on patrol. 

Meliodas would most likely come looking for them soon enough. Tristan couldn’t stall forever. 

Tristan grunted, peeling his lips back as he tried pressing harder against Kier’s blade. “I shouldn’t have been so fucking stupid,” he growled through bared teeth. “I let that fucking Archangel’s words get to me, and now look  what happened!” Kier let out a startled gasp, forced to back away from Tristan’s blade as his strength began to weaken. 

Kier’s chest heaved, his blade resting in the ground as he looked at his cousin in sympathy. “Don’t let it get to your head too badly,” he reassured. “I’m sure your dad will most likely understand your anger. My father probably would if I lashed out at Izraf for calling me a filthy half-breed.” Tristan’s shoulders dropped, allowing his sword to rest by his side as he shook his head. 

“But my anger cost us that bit of forest. I compromised our control over that territory! And-.” 

“Tristan, Kier. There you both are.” Tristan’s body froze, whirling around at the familiar voice of his father. There was no escaping it now. Meliodas stalked out into the training field, his obsidian eyes glancing between the two princes. Kier instantly dropped his sword, kneeling down in the dirt as Meliodas stalked towards them. 

Meliodas’ mouth quirked in a smile, waving Kier up. “Enough of that, Kier. You can stand up.” The vampire hybrid did as he was told, brushing off his pants, but still managing to keep a respective aura around him. Meliodas’ eyes flickered back to his son, crossing his arms as he raised a brow in confusion. “I just heard you came back from patrol. Why didn’t you report?” 

Tristan swallowed, keeping his eyes on the ground as he scuffed his feet in the dirt. Shame began to fill his mind as the silence stretched on. Thankfully, Kier didn’t say anything, glancing his way for a brief moment before focusing back on his uncle. “Tristan,” Meliodas said, his tone more firm. “What happened on patrol?” Still, the two princes refused to speak. 

They heard a low sigh, both glancing up in curiosity. Meliodas gazed at Kier, his eyes calm. “Gelda said that she wanted to see you for afternoon tea when you returned. Best get going.” Kier bowed his head, taking the not-so-subtle hint. He patted his cousin on the shoulder, before sheathing his sword and striding back into the castle. Leaving father and son in the training field alone. 

Meliodas’ feet padded gently on the dusty ground, Tristan still refusing to look at his father. “Tristan, what happened? I can tell that something serious happened to you two, so report.” Tristan huffed a sigh gritting his teeth as he finally gazed at his father. 

“We ran into Ludociel when we patrolled,” he whispered. “He taunted me for being the son of a Goddess and a Demon. And I let his words get to me. I reacted in pure anger, without rationality. And it cost us that part of our territory.” Meliodas placed a hand on Tristan’s shoulder, keeping his face neutral as he listened to the prince explain his afternoon. Without a word, he herded Tristan over to one of the nearby seats. 

The silence from his father did nothing to help his anxiety, his hearts hammering wildly in his chest as the silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time. “While it is unfortunate that we lost that part of our territory, I can understand your frustration.” Tristan’s head snapped up, looking at Meliodas in shock. His father showed no emotion as he gazed at his son, his hand resting on his thigh. “Ludociel egged you on, trying to get your composure to slip by touching a sensitive subject about you.” 

“It’s understandable that you would react in such a hostile way when your mo- when the woman you birthed you was a Goddess.” “You’re not mad that my actions cost us our territory?” Tristan asked, his eyes wide as saucers. The side of Meliodas’ mouth twisted up just a fraction, shaking his head.  

He patted Tristan’s leg reassuringly, gazing into Tristan’s eyes. “I won’t lie when I say I am a little bit frustrated at you for it. However, I realize that Ludociel can be a pain in the ass. Both your uncle and I have let Ludociel’s words get to your heads, back before you were even born. Even before I became king. And it cost us, dearly. But I’m sure we can reclaim that portion of the border back if we get troops there quick enough.” His head twisted as he looked at Tristan’s discarded sword, still sitting in the dust. 

Tristan followed his father’s gaze, his voice hesitant. “How do I stop it, father?” he asked, shifting on the bench. “How do I not let his words get to my head and push through?” “I’ll train you,” Meliodas said, standing up from the bench as he wandered back over to the discarded sword. He picked it up, swinging it carefully in his hold as hellfire suddenly licked along the edges of the blade. 

“I’ll teach you the way that Zeldris and I trained when this situation arose with us. I know it’s hard to not let words get under your skin, Tristan. Especially with you being part-Goddess. But you will get stronger, and we’ll show that fucker what-for.” Tristan smiled, hopping off the bench as he strode over to his father. Meliodas smiled, tossing him the sword as he approached. 

However, before they could even start training, a demon strode from inside the castle. “Your majesty!” they cried out, the panic evident in their voice. “What is it?” Meliodas demanded, all humor faded as he gave his full attention to the messenger. The demon collapsed in the dirt, bowing lowly before the king of the Demon Clan as he addressed Meliodas. “It’s urgent, Your Highness. Ludociel is in the throne room and demanding to speak with you. Your brother and nephew are already in the throne room, waiting for your arrival, sir.” 

A low growl rumbled through Meliodas’ form, his eyes narrowing as his fingers curled at his sides. Tristan quickly sheathed his sword, feeling the sudden and immense surge of power that flowed from his father. A feeling of nervousness tingled along his skin.“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The demon stood back up, bowing before scuttling back inside to inform the Goddess. Tristan scooted forward, steeling himself as he glanced at his father, whose face was nothing short of furious. 

“Training will have to wait. Let’s go, Tristan.” The prince nodded, his demon mark bleeding onto his forehead as he followed his father into the throne room. 

[daisy-has-too-many-wives]

so, i had the idea for another abbiel au. Abby takes over for Lucifer as King of Hell. and i really liked it so i wrote a scene for it. here ya go

Lucifer had given them one month to find a new king. And somehow, the damned (literally) fools had done it. He'd been rather surprised, if he was being honest. Apparently, the candidate they had found had not only been willing to rule Hell, but had also managed to plan their own coronation before the month was up. 

“Sir, we're ready to start.” 

“Thank you, Dagon. I'll be right there.” The hordes of Hell had been gathered together to watch the coronation, where Lucifer would transfer his rulership to the new king, along with giving them a boost to their powers. He wasn’t giving them his powers, of course; he would still have those. But the new king would have to have enough power to keep the demons in line, and he would make sure they had that, so he would never have to come back Down Here.

He walked out onto the stage, which was so rarely used, and would have frozen had he not been on display in front of all the hordes of Hell. 

“Uriel.”

“Lucifer,” they say with a curt nod. They’re standing slightly beside his throne, and he glares at them as he takes a seat in it for the last time.

“Why are you here?”

“Why would I not be?” they respond, clearly confused. 

“I don’t know,” he bites out. Their eyes widen in understanding. “What do you know?” They shake their head. “If you were not married to my child, I swear -”

The sound of horns, low and eerie, interrupts him, and he looks away from the Archangel with a scowl. The grand doors at the end of the throne room open with a great creaking, and had he not already been sitting, Lucifer would have fallen over.

Making her way up to the throne, dressed in armor so black it seemed to shine, with her wings on full display, was his eldest daughter. 

“I present myself before the king,” Abby says when she makes it to the dais, kneeling down on one knee. “I offer myself in service to the hordes, to lead them, to rule them.” Her voice seems to echo throughout the massive throne room, the normally raucous demons silent as she continues. “I am Abigail Morningstar, the Satandottir, and I have come to claim the crown.” 

“Rise, and face me,” he says, forcing his voice not to waver, forcing himself to be the king for just a little longer. She stands up, and there’s a small smile on her face as she looks up at him.

“Hi, Dad,” she says, just quiet enough for him to hear. Looking over to Uriel, her smile grows. “Hello again, love.” 

“I saw you twenty minutes ago,” they say, but the smile in their voice is clear. Lucifer bites back a scowl and rises from the throne, making his way down the steps of the dais until he is standing in front of her. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking over Hell, Dad, what’s it look like?” 

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, child?” He doesn’t smile, doesn’t respond to her joke. His face is deathly serious.

“Yes, I do. I promise. I know what I’m doing.” 

“I hope you do.” He raises his voice once again, loud enough to be heard throughout the crowded room. “Do you swear to give yourself to Hell, to dedicate your being to ruling its halls?”

“I swear it.”

“Do you swear to protect the demons under your authority, to fight for them when the time comes?”

“I swear it.”

“And do you swear to punish the unworthy, and to help the ones with room to grow?”

“I swear it.”

“You couldn’t have said no to any of them, could you?” he mutters under his breath, and she grins at him. “Bastard child.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” she whispers back.

“She has sworn it; you have all heard her.” He lifts the crown from his head, placing it carefully onto his daughter’s head. “I crown you King of Hell; may you rule long.” 

She turns around, holding her head tall and spreading her wings wide. Power had rushed through her veins when he’d given her the crown, and she could feel it working already.

“Demons of Hell!” she shouts, and the quiet murmuring that had grown in the room dies off immediately. “Long have you been known as the shadow of Heaven. But no longer! For under me, your greatness will not be denied any longer. Long live Hell!”

“Long live Hell!” the hordes shout back. “Long live the King!” She smiles as she walks up the dais, Lucifer behind her, and takes her place on the throne. The shouts of the demons echo through the hall, until Dagon steps forward and hollers for them all to get back to work. 

“Thank you, Dagon,” she says, beckoning them to join her on the dais. “I’m sure you’ve already got a list of paperwork for me, I promise I’ll get to it tomorrow. Could you get me your wife’s number? I need to schedule a meeting with Heaven, make sure they’re aware that there has been a transfer of power. Oh, and if you could get me Beelzebub’s number too, that’d be great. I know zey’re off in the stars with Gabriel, but I’d like to have zem in my back pocket just in case.”

“You - just took control,” the Lord of the Files says hesitantly. 

“Yes, I know. There’s a lot to do, I’m not going to dilly dally. I want to have Heaven envious of how well we run by the end of the century.”

“Of course, ma’am.” 

“How long have you been planning this?” Lucifer asks as Dagon leaves for their office. She frowns slightly as she thinks, looking over at Uriel as she reaches a hand out to them.

“Three weeks,” they sigh, taking her hand. 

“Thank you, love. I couldn’t remember, I’ve been so busy.” 

“And you’re perfectly fine with being Queen of Hell?” he asks Uriel.

“The world would burn if she asked it of me,” they said in response, staring at their wife with all the love in the world. 

“I could not have done this without them, Dad.”

“I know, I know.”

“Good. Now, go on! Get out of here! You’re officially retired! I’m sure Mom’s waiting for you.”

“Of course you told your mother but not me,” he mutters as he vanishes with a snap. She just laughs.

AAAAAAAAAA

OH MY GOODNESS

AUPRYEOYWOWYOTIA

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

[i-miss-lotor]

I posted this on ao3 before but I reread it and I really wish Crowley and Gabriel to find happiness and I love the idea that they find it together so Im reposting it here too.

"You run away," Crowley said with a drink in his hand. He wasn't sure how he ended up with an archangel in a bar. He didn’t even know how they became… acquaintances. Because they weren't friends, not really. Angels and demons were never friends.

Gabriel glanced his way before he went back to play with the little umbrella in his own drink.

"I did," he said.

"How did you do it?" Crowley asked. Gabriel shrugged.

"How do you do anything?" Then his face changed into something more serious and somber, yet still tried to maintain his easy-going attitude. "I just realized that they won't change. And that I don’t have to take it anymore. I mean, after spending a millenia with them, I think I earned a vacation."

Crowley slightly nodded and took a gulp of his scotch. Gabriel wasn't wrong. He probably would have left after all that too, they sounded insufferable. Angels always had a stick up their asses, he couldn’t imagine them as a fun bunch. Most of them weren't, anyway.

"I think," Gabriel said, looking at Crowley again," you deserve one, too."

He snorted softly, "Hell would fall apart without a ruler."

"And?"

Crowley stopped and met Gabriel's eyes.

"What do you mean, 'and'? It's Hell."

"Exactly, it's hell . Do you even like it? All those whiney demons and the paperwork? Doesn't sound very enjoyable."

"It's Hell," Crowley repeated. "It's not supposed to be 'enjoyable'."

"I'm just saying, if you are the King of Hell, you're supposed to have more fun with it, you know? You're the torturer, not the torturee."

He didn't answer. Gabriel was right in a sense, but then again…

"Someone has to keep them at bay. They would be a pain in the ass otherwise."

"They already are. And does it have to be you? Don't you have dreams?"

At this, Crowley let out a wry laugh. Dreams? Who did Gabriel think he was? Crowley was a lowlife demon, the bane of every creature he met. Dreams, right.

"No, I don't have dreams," he ended with. Nothing manageable at least, he added to himself.

"Why not?"

"Why should I? I have everything I'd ever want."

"I doubt that."

Crowley chuckled, "Enlight me then."

Gabriel smirked and shook his head.

"I'm just saying, depression doesn't suit you," he said. If Crowley found the situation entertaining before, it certainly stopped now.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am, thank you," he said, turning back to his drink to finish it.

"Oh I'm sure you are," Gabriel said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just like I was when I was still at home, trying to mediate between my father and my brothers so we can have just one peaceful family dinner. Which never worked, by the way."

"I'm not you."

"No, you aren't," Gabriel agreed, "but that doesn’t mean we don't don't have some similar experiences. Hey, I'm not saying that everything is funky-dory after I left. They are my family and I miss them. However, it is better. There are no rules and you cannot imagine how much quieter it is."

Crowley didn't finish his drink. He didn’t even take a sip, opting to mindlessly slosh it around in the glass instead.

He kind of hated Gabriel at the moment. It was a sour topic and the archangel refused to let it go because he was a prick. Because he wanted to help, perhaps.

He could admit to himself that he did despise his job. Those backstabbing demons. Crowley tried, honest to God, to make Hell better. To have some order in it and that maybe, just maybe, to make it more pleasurable for their kind because even for demons it was a fucking terrible place.

And he failed, time and time again. He wanted to give up, sure. But he couldn't.

"Would you rather Asmodeus control them?"

Gabriel froze. Crowley almost regretted his words but demons don't have feelings, so. It was still a low blow though.

"Didn’t think so," he said after the silence. He drank what was left, put his empty glass down and stood up with a sigh, adjusting his suit. "Well, I'd say this was a nice chat but it wasn’t. Goodbye, Gabriel."

Before he could teleport himself away though, the angel found his voice.

"He's dead though, isn't he? I killed him. But if I didn't, the boys would have offed him sooner or later, I'm sure. They found a way to kill Abbadon too, after all."

"With my help."

"Yes," Gabriel nodded, then turned around in his chair to face him. "Did they thank you?"

Crowley's muscles jerked. Gabriel noticed.

"Didn’t think so. They never do, so why bother?"

"And how exactly are they relevant?"

"Because you are doing this for them. Because you think it's better the evil you know than the evil you don’t. Because, to a degree, you care for them. And I understand," he added, before Crowley could interrupt. "They have a certain charm that just convinces you to help them and fall for them a little. Been there, done that. But what do they give you in return?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm fond of those little chucklefucks but their biggest concerns are each other. Sure, they will soften up eventually but when will they see us as someone trustworthy? As family? Never."

"Because," Gabriel continued, "we want that, right? Someone who cares for us as they do to each other?"

Crowley didn't need to listen to this. He should just snap his fingers and get back to his throne and treat himself.

He didn’t move. Gabriel did instead, standing up.

"They are humans and they feel emotions so deeply, they are absolutely infuriating and devastatingly wonderful. And maybe they will look at us as friends, eventually. But they won't count us in their family. What they need is help from someone stronger than they are and when we did what they asked, they wouldn't need us anymore. So I ask again: did they ever thank you?"

They did. Crowley was sure they did. Once, at least. He just couldn’t remember when it was, not now, when Gabriel was looking at him like that.

"Your point?" Crowley finally asked.

"My point," Gabriel said, stepping closer. "My point is that you could do better. What do you want to do?"

What did he want to do, indeed.

"Earth is nice. Nicer than Hell," he said mindlessly.

"It is."

"I could close the gates."

"Which ones?"

"Hell. I could close the gates of Hell," Crowley said, pondering. He was the king, after all.

Gabriel smirked at him.

"I guess you found something you want then? Shut down Hell and live on Earth happily ever after?"

"Maybe." Crowley paused, glanced at Gabriel, measuring him up, then he spoke again. "Interested?"

He hated how Gabriel's mischievous and bright expression sparked something in him. He was preparing for another disappointment, he just knew. It happened countless times before.

"I'm always up to cause some trouble," Gabriel said with a happy grin.

Crowley's lips quirked up. He held out his hand, and Gabriel didn't even hesitate before he took it.

Well. One more time, then. He would try one more time and hope that this one will be it. He felt good about it.

[manzaniyuh]

I'm insane for this (still mikey my poor boy)

1.

Is:

B: Very smart?

W: Trusts too easily/too naive

Thinks:

B: Somehow is still able to help his dad despite being... special

W: crybaby

2. Bc his bio dad mistook Archangel Michael's date (sep 29) with sep 27. Leslie bc their mother thought it was cute

(Meta: bc it's his canon name and it's too good to change (😭) and bc I wantes him to have a silly "girl's" name)

3. Oh idk. Sleepy and soft and low :]

4. Hmmm. He doesn't really have motivations since he's not searching anything

(BUT maybe if I decide on something: The underlying would be asking his bio dad why did he hate them so much(?))

5. He wears dark colors mostly but with pretty(?) (Cute desing sweaters, aprons) clothes, so it probably reflects that he's sad but he's silly?

6. Nope!

7. The mutilated finger, maybe. The tons of scars, probably

8. SH but he's working on it! Pupi is very good at her job and instead of letting his anger out hurting himself he now destroys plushies! And then fixes them again lol

9. Quality time and acts of service :]

11. Idk? People with a lot of patience????

12. He had very bad experiences, but, also, he gets crushes quite often. So he never attempts anything until a while. It has to be serious with him or he dies

13. They want marriage so, so bad!! They want to have children, and a cottage house and tons of puppies and cats <3

But I think he would prefer to have a small wedding, since he doesn't have much family (just his dad. and maybe a cop. ugh) and even in his most materialistic moments, he's aware that wasting too much money on it won't be worth it :]

He would like to have a painting tho, probably, so he'll try to get that (Or make the painting himself)

14. Bio mom dissapeared. Bio dad is like. evil. Dad is very nice and he loves him :] and that's all his family

15. Omg yes!!! He was a child so ofc he would be oblivious/easily manipulated. He also didn't have that much trauma so his happy traits were more notorious like being materialistic and sarcasm and complaining about dirt and slapping stuff for no reason and- and- 💔

Now, bc all the trauma and manipulation he just. hides. And then tries very hard to get his childhood back, enjoying the stuff he thought he was "too mature" to enjoy before (he's a manchild)

17. Mmmmmmmm I'm tempted to say 5, he just doesn't get all the sleep he wants bc hia dad wakes him up early for work

18. Dead /j

Not doing any important change to his life, mayyybe has a pretty job. Who knows

((He gets all he ever wanted and is happy forever bc he deserves it <3))

20. AU? A-au? Au??? I-

*runs away hiding the fact that his base existence is an AU of an AU and that he has a lot of AUs and there's a multiverse going on in my brain*

✧ OC Asks Part II ✧

Since my original asks post did so well, I decided to make a second part. Feel free to answer these yourself, or ask someone else! Have fun!

Part I: https://liliamoon.tumblr.com/post/662398743322279936/oc-asks

1. What are your OC’s best and worst qualities? What do they think are their best and worst qualities?

2. Is there a meaning behind their name, or a particular reason why they have it? (either in the story, or why you as the author decided to give them their name)

3. What does their voice sound like, in a couple of words? (ie soft, scratchy, seductive, high-pitched, etc)

4. Do they have any underlying motivations? (ie they seem hard-working but secretly just don’t want to fall back into poverty, etc)

5. Does their fashion sense reflect an aspect of their personality? (ie bright and colorful outfits symbolizing that they’re an upbeat person)

6. Do they have any tattoos? What are they, and why did they get them?

7. What is their biggest insecurity?

8. What is their coping mechanism?

9. What is their main love language? (gifts, quality time, acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation)

10. What is their MBTI type?

11. What kind of person are they most compatible with? (platonic or romantic)

12. How do they feel about romantic relationships? Are they into casual flings or more serious, long-term romances? Or are they uninterested?

13. What are their views on marriage? If they want to get married, what would their dream wedding be like?

14. How is their relationship with their family? Which family member are they closest to?

15. Has their personality changed at all since they were a child? Why?

16. How do other characters in the story view them?

17. How many hours of sleep does your OC get on average?

18. Where do they see themself in ten years?

19. If they had a theme song, what would it be?

20. What AU would they belong in the best?

[hoodedpanda333]

The Datables!!!

A continuation of this

Diavolo:

This man is ecstatic when you lean against him

He's a demon and you're such a fragile human

He's nearly brought to tears thinking about how much you must trust him

He doesn't want to move at all

Kinda sucks when you're the prince of hell and have a job to do

But much like a pet

You do not move when a sleeping MC is on you, no way no how

He is so tempted to wrap his arms around you

But he won't

He doesn't want to risk waking you up

Who knows when he'll get another chance to observe a sleeping human???

Barbatos:

This man never sits down so for you to get him stationary for so long must be some sort of miracle

At first he is unsure if he should wake you up or not

One look at your peaceful face and he decides to allow it

Just this once, MC

He's busy waiting for Diavolo anyway so this should be fine

It amazes him how creatures with such a limited lifespan could spend a majority of their precious, fleeting moments unconscious

There is just so much to be done

Looking at your face, however, gives him a different point of view

How fascinating that a human could make him feel this way

And with such a simple action no less

Truly remarkable

Simeon:

Has been blessed by the lord himself

Does a few hail Marys when he sees your sleeping face

Somebody pray for this man

Ok, I'm done

But he is truly thanking his lucky stars he sat down next to you

As if there was any other choice

He's a literal angel and even he hasn't seen a sight as pure as this

He is radiating warmth from his excitement

Makes sure not to touch you without your permission

Continues with what he was doing before then

Is extra aware of your presence the whole time

Luke (platonic):

Is a little surprised when you fall over

You're very close to him and he's not really sure what to do about it

Lord Michael, the archangel

Send help

Low-key thinks you just died on him

Calms down when he hears you breathing

Doesn't even realize he's turning red

Tries to feed you a cookie to wake you up

Is honestly struggling™ at the moment

Looks up "What to do when my human friend falls asleep on me?" on his DDD

Calls for Simeon to bail him out

Why is Solomon taking pictures?

This is serious!!! Someone help this poor pup!!

Solomon

"Ah! Looks like the poison is kicking in"

Uhh I mean

He isn't as surprised as the others

He actually smiles a little when he feels you against his arm

He's in the middle of reading a scroll he found on dBay

You must've dozed off waiting for him to finish up

He isn't complaining

After all, he wants a chance to get closer to you

Uses his magic to conjure up a blanket for you

It's pretty and purple with the stars mapped on it

He blushes a bit seeing you wrapped up in his blanket

Goes back to reading, occasionally looking back at you asleep against him

[eclectics-world]

Other World, Other Person

Part 8 of the "Gabriel Returns" series

Summary: The reader finds out what happened in the other world.

Pairing: Past Gabriel × Reader; eventual Gabriel × Reader again

Word count: 931

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Alcohol mentions; what could be considered parasuicidal ideation from one of the characters; serious injury to one of the characters that they've already survived

You found everyone in the library. "So, boys. Time to talk shop." You sat, taking the drink Dean offered you. "That sounded like quite the fight that Abbie and I walked in on."

"I'm sorry, Y/n. We didn't mean to get into it in front of the kid --"

You held up your hand, cutting off Dean's apology. "I don't love that you did that, but she didn't get scared by it. Besides, if you want to apologize to someone, it's not me who needs it." Dean nodded.

Dean and Sam looked guilty, while Cas looked sad and Gabriel looked... uncertain, you decided. Like he wasn't sure what to do next. It wasn't really a face he wore often.

"Who died?" It was the best guess you could make.

"Nobody, exactly." Well. That made a lot of sense.

"Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, Dean."

"I think what he's trying to say is it was only sheer, dumb luck that they didn't get me killed." You looked at Gabriel. You heard Castiel sigh, and saw both the Winchester brothers avoid anyone's eyes. What the hell had happened in the other world?

"How close?" You weren't sure why that was the question you asked. Nobody looked you in the eyes -- they all seemed reluctant to answer.

"About a second and a half." A second and a half. It took more than a second a half to say that -- Gabriel had been that close to death?

"Are you hurt?" Gabriel frowned. Something was off here -- what you had asked wasn't a difficult question, but nobody at the table seemed quite sure of how to answer it. "What happened?"

"We fell behind." Sam was picking up the story now. "Dean and I, we fell behind. And Gabriel -- Gabriel got us through the opening to get back home. He held off Michael for us. And the opening, uh. The opening closed behind us." There were a thousand thoughts spinning through your mind. They left Gabriel alone, stranded in the other world? How did he get back? He was back -- sitting at the same table as you, looking at you -- so why was everyone acting like something was still wrong?

"There's more. What else am I still missing?" When nobody answered you immediately, you asked your next question. "Gabriel, how did you get back?"

"I used up what was left of my grace. All of it." You heard the harshness in his tone. You knew why it was there, what it meant for an angel to lose their grace.

"You're human." He nodded. You nodded back, processing what that meant. You'd known he was low on grace, that Asmodeus had been draining him of grace for years, but you hadn't realized that he was low enough on grace to be in danger of running completely out. You didn't know what Gabriel would want as a human -- you'd barely known what he'd wanted, really wanted, as an archangel. "So, what's next?"

Silence. He probably didn't know, you realized. "Well, considering I didn't have the luck to get killed --"

You meant to keep calm and collected, whatever had happened. But with that statement, you started crying. "The luck? The luck!? You -- you left me, alone, for years for reasons I still don't really understand, or even know about for that matter; you let me think you were dead, and then -- what? You show back up, I show back up, I come back for you, and you, what, want to get yourself killed, is that it?" You saw, from the corner of your eye, Sam gesture to Dean and Cas that this was probably their cue to leave.

"It wasn't just Kali I was trying to protect. I didn't want my brothers to know about you, to know what you meant -- what you mean -- to me. I figured if I went into hiding that I could find a way to take my brothers down. Something they wouldn't see coming. That just didn't exactly go according to plan."

You nodded. That had always been a point of contention between you and Gabriel: his desire to protect you, and your desire to have independence. "I really am sorry for what you went through, Gabriel. I -- I know it wasn't easy. That you went through -- through things you didn't deserve." You swallowed. "But it was hard without you. Having Abbie around and -- and not you. And now you're back and -- and -- Gabe, I don't want to lose you again. I can't lose you again. I know that you don't know what to do next, but --" You didn't have the confidence to finish the sentence.

"I can't go with you." Apparently he knew how that sentence was going to end anyways. "Y/n, I -- I don't have anything. I don't have a job, or an education, I don't even have a legal name." He was rarely so serious: only when he had his mind made up.

"Come with me." You didn't know why you had the confidence to say it now. "Do you think I don't know? I know you don't have anything. But you're going to have to work that out somewhere, so work it out with me."

Gabriel shook his head. "What could a runaway with nothing offer?"

You sighed. It had been a long day, and it was wearing on you. Gabriel seemed to have his mind made up, and you didn't know how to feel about that. You needed some time to yourself. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Gabriel."

[scarletarosa]

Mephistopheles

One of the demonic gods who serves in High King Lucifer’s kingdom. This information was shared to me by Mephisto and learned through my experiences in working with this fascinating infernal deity.

Other names: Mephisto, Father of All Sophists

Rulerships: persuasion, contracts, and all branches of Law

History: Mephisto began as an Angel serving under the Archangel of justice, Tzadkiel. In the beginning, Mephisto took his work too seriously with regards to bringing justice and became obsessed with delivering it as a prosecutor. When he eventually saw many angels of mercy going against this, he did not understand. If a person had done a crime that required retribution, why would this person be granted another chance? Every person, no matter how low or high they are, must pay for their mistakes. This of course included Mephisto himself, as he did not wish to be exempt from justice. The angels of mercy interfered seldomly at first, but as time went on, they began forgiving larger and larger numbers of people. So while Mephisto was prosecuting some humans, the angels of mercy would set them free. 

Irritated, Mephisto complained to Tzadkiel about this, but the Archangel smiled and said everything was okay. Even more agitated by this response from his commander, these frequent actions of forgiveness towards injustice began to eat away at Mephisto. He also began wondering what his purpose even was anymore since many of those he tried to punish were set free. Because of this, he gradually learned how to make his arguments against people much more convincing so the angels of mercy could not show forgiveness. At some point, Mephisto even began to falsify evidence in order to have some corrupt humans convicted. This went on for a while until Tzadkiel discovered what was happening. Mephisto was then called to give an apology before his commander who then said that “According to the Law, you should be condemned for what you have done. But I forgive you.” However, this action only made Mephisto even more cynical towards justice. He then realized that it’s not your actions that convict you, but whoever happens to be judging you. 

This deeply shook Mephisto’s faith in what he did, so out of spite, he trained a group of humans in ancient Greece to become the Sophists, the first lawyers of history. These people were experts in logic, speech, and entrapment. They gave their services to anyone who paid them a large sum of money, regardless of who their client was. Mephisto had created this particular justice system as a way to have anyone stand a chance in court, even criminals. He had decided that If the angels of mercy were freeing criminals as they pleased, he will have it done in a dishonourable way as an act of spite against celestial justice.

When this was found out, Mephisto was commanded to put an end to the Sophists. But Mephisto replied, “If you all cannot agree with what justice is, neither can I”. Eventually, Mephisto used one of his Sophists to prosecute Socrates over the accusation that he was “corrupting the youth” for being a voice of wisdom. The philosopher was then sentenced to prison and died there after committing suicide. Mephisto was then called forward before Tzadkiel and other Angels to explain himself once again for his actions, but he refused to yield to them, saying “Well where were you? What did you do to protect him? You allowed this noble man to die for no reason. If I was in the wrong, you would have done something; but if I were in the right, it would still cause you to act due to how much you cared for him.” 

Even though he was correct in his statement, this argument targeted his entire chain of command, which did not go over well. They told him to recant (take back what he said) and then they would demote him. But due to his pride, Mephisto refused to allow either, especially since he proclaimed to be doing his job exactly as he needed to be. Mephisto then left heaven and was later recruited into Hell by one of the three High Kings- Lucifer, who gave him the task of a demonic lawyer for the humans of Earth. Mephisto still remains cynical and doesn’t believe in justice anymore. He now only believes in the “justice” a person can buy and also favours making contracts.

Rank: President and Earl

Elements: Strife and Junction

Colours: black with a “v” shape of white (similar to a judge’s outfit)

Appearance: a tall man in his 30’s with pale skin, neck-length black hair, completely black eyes, and black horns (he sometimes does not manifest these). He often wears a judge’s outfit, despite being a lawyer.

Personality: Mephisto is serious, confident, meticulous, determined, astute, shrewd, relentless, patient, intelligent, studious, and is a smooth-talker and master of persuasion. He is a realist with regards to many things and views how plenty of things people view as “moral” are ridiculous (especially Christian values). Mephisto especially hates people who are naïve or tell the truth all the time, even moreso if they feel they are “pure” because of these actions. He claims that lying often has many necessary uses, and being honest all the time only causes problems. Some things that Mephisto likes are innovation, robotics, defending peoples’ rights (as a lawyer), ravens, magpies, the Tower of London (due to all the atrocities that took place here), the backgammon game, classical music, and collecting books.

To understand Mephisto better, one can read the three Faust plays that have been written. All three versions of the Faust story are true accounts of Mephistopheles to a degree, but are a bit dramatized of course. All three versions manage to be true because they are each different perspectives on the account which occurred. For example, Faust did indeed try to repent for making a deal with Mephisto, but he still went to Hell for an appointed period before being set free.

Things he can help with: anything law-related, contract deals, helps in making someone a good lawyer, helps in making someone persuasive

His Enn (for devotion or meditation): Mephisto Viaga Tasa On Ca Sedi

Offerings: sarsaparilla, dry red wine, smoked trout, veal, duck, foie gras, pork tenderloin, eggs, spaghetti, neapolitan pizza, strawberries, figs, apricots, pears, melons, grapes, honeycombs, eggplants, brussel sprouts, oyster mushrooms, ground coffee, dark chocolate, licorice bars, tobacco, law books, canes, votive candles, classical music, candlesticks, rosewood, mahogany, leopardskin jasper, smoky quartz, brown obsidian, and incense of musk + lemon + cinnamon

[writingtoforgetreality]

Delicate - The Devil’s Daughter Chapter Nine (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil’s Daughter-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Amenadiel did not trust you one bit. Why? Well, you were not sure yourself. But you would find out soon. 

Words: 1,464

Warnings: language, angst, I think this chapter is good to go, (Y/E/C) = your eye color, (Y/A) = your age

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Dinner was incredibly uncomfortable. Amenadiel had not stopped staring at you & you desperately wanted the floor to swallow you as a whole. The worst part was that Dan seemed oblivious to everything. You did not even bother engaging in their conversation. Mostly, your eyes trained on the little baby who you found out was named Charlie. He was really sweet. Not like his scary father with his stone cold stare.

“(Y/N)?” it was the first time Amenadiel directed his words at you. You almost choked on your food. Why were you thinking that he would not talk to you? It was bad enough that he made you queasy but him asking you something? Well, you were not necessarily prepared if you were honest.

“Um, yeah?” you had never sounded so ludicrous in your entire existence.

“Can we talk?” his eyes bore into yours. Dan kept eating like nothing was wrong about this situation.

“I guess.” an awkward chuckle left your mouth.

“I mean in private.” his voice was deep. You definitely did not want to mess with him. Eyeing Dan, you found him uninterested. He simply motioned for you guys to go ahead. Okay, what was going on? You had never met this guy before. And he just came waltzing in, demanding to talk to you. It was not really a demand. More like a question with a demanding undertone. Whatever it was, it left you uneasy. Getting up from the table, you gestured for him to follow you. He gave Dan some instructions how to deal with little Charlie & then entered your, or better said Trixie’s, bedroom behind you. The door fell closed & suddenly, you were alone with a stranger. Seemingly no way to escape whatsoever.

“So.” Amenadiel started.

“So.” you breathed out.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Should there be anything?” your head tilted, clearly showing that you had no clue what he wanted from you.

“What are you?”

“Usually, it’s “who” but-“

“No. What are you?” sounded like he was not in the mood for jokes. Truthfully, you were not either but you thought a little sarcasm would ease the tension between you two. When you did not give him an answer, he continued. “I know you aren’t human.” that made you stop in your tracks. (Y/E/C) eyes widened in fear.

“W-What?” you managed to stutter out.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play dumb.” Amenadiel walked over to where you were sitting on the bed. Placing himself beside you but not too close, so there still was a good amount of distance.

“I…I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” by now, your eyes trained on your lap where your hands fiddled to avoid eye contact. It was not like he was a bad person or anything, just the way he talked & about what he talked was not really what you expected from one of Dan’s friends.

“I think you do.” he sighed out. “And if you’re not telling me then I believe we’ll have a problem.”

“Why would there be a problem?” your heartrate picked up its pace & you had no control over it. Your legs bounced & if you did not clench your hands into fists, the trembles would be visible.

“Because I can’t tell if you’re a threat or not.” he was being serious but to you, his statement was hilarious. Hence why you could not hold in a little laughter. Regaining your composure, you locked your eyes with his again.

“Do I look threatening to you?” a little smirk was plastered on your face. Everyone who knew you knew how you would never hurt anyone. Clearly, he thought otherwise.

“Yes.” that caught you off guard. A man like him being afraid of you? You, out of everyone? Did not sound real but whatever. He started speaking again. “As an angel, you can see someone’s true form. I can detect another angel, a demon. But when I look at you…I don’t see anything.” you were too shocked after his revelation of being an angel. That had to be a coincidence, right? He could very well be lying. So why did you believe him when he told you that? Still, you would not let your guard down. Not that easily.

“Isn’t it good when you don’t see anything? Means I’m no demon, right?” whatever you said, it was the wrong thing. Because the man next to you looked amused.

“You kinda gave yourself away with your answer. You weren’t shocked when I said I was an angel.” oh, you were shocked but probably not like a human being would be. “So that brings me to my conclusion that you aren’t human. I’m asking you again…What are you?”

“You know my name, right?” you looked at him expectantly. After a nod from him, you kept going. “Then it should be an easy one for you to put two & two together.” now it was his turn to look confused. Rolling your eyes at him, you explained further. “(Y/N). The big, bad angel nobody wants to get too close to.” your hands gestured exaggeratedly but Ameandiel’s face was still full of confusion.

“I don’t know an angel named (Y/N).” he mumbled it more to himself. “Did father send you?”

“Father? You’re talking about the Big Guy?” your eyes rolled. Of course, if Amenadiel was an angel then it would make God his father. “Trust me, I’d still be up there if it weren’t for me leaving right away.”

“Right away as in you turned (Y/A)?”

“Bingo.” you smiled at him. “Look, Amenadiel…If God sent you to bring me back tell him to stop trying so hard. Because I won’t ever go back.” you grew more & more angry.

“Nobody sent me.” again, it sounded like the truth. “But I’m not lying when I say that I don’t know an angel named (Y/N).” that, on the other hand, sounded like a big fat lie.

“Sure thing.” you laughed. “You’re here to make fun of me then?”

“No, I’m-“ but you interrupted him.

“I can’t believe you…” you whispered while shaking your head. “For (Y/A) years, no other angel gave a single shit about me. I’m leaving heaven & all of a sudden the others care? Or make fun of me? Trust me when I say you’re too late.” you got up from the bed, approaching the door. Yet, you came to a halt the moment your hand touched the doorknob. Shoulders sunk down. If you were honest, you were kind of hurt right now. When Amenadiel started talking again, his voice was much softer.

“I didn’t know you existed. And by the way you’re talking about heaven…it doesn’t sound like you had the best experience.” you scoffed at that. “Though I can only believe you if you show me your wings. You could be a demon, after all.” it was weird for him to meet someone who claimed to be an angel. But only because he could not see your true form. Whatever was going on with you he had never seen before. He had not even known that something like that was possible. That was, of course, if you really were an angel. If not, you could be a threat still. And he would not let you get too close to Charlie if that were the case.

“Forget it.” turning around again, your arms crossed over your chest.

“Then it means you’re a threat.” he pointed out, slowly getting up to walk over to you. When you instinctively took a step back, your body pressing against the closed door, then he came to a halt. You were uncomfortable, he could tell.

“I’m not a threat.” you breathed out through gritted teeth. “It’s not like I don’t wanna show you my wings. It’s more like I can’t.” your head hung low, thinking about the bandage on your back that probably needed to be changed soon.

“And why is that?” you were drained entirely. Like your social battery was empty. Besides, it was probably easier to show him than to explain everything. Grabbing the edges of your shirt, you turned around & lifted it enough to show the bandages. Blood leaked through. Not a lot but still. You flinched when you felt him remove it. He was careful but it was a very vulnerable moment for you. After all, nobody but the archangels & God had seen your wounds & scars before. You heard Ameandiel letting out a shaky breath. How you wished you could see his face, his reaction, right now. It felt like hours before you heard him talking again. And you could only make out his voice because the room had gone entirely silent.

“What did they do to you?”

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/12/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @suffering-canucks-fan, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @strangewhovian-blog, @officialfictionalwreck, @peachescream06 (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

[ms-rampage]

Hello. I have a little request on the Supernatural. Y/n is an Archangel. After y/n gets pregnant and gives birth, she tries to live a quiet life. Lucifer lives with them. You can ask imagine, where Y/n is forced to look after not only her restless child, but also Lucifer, who behaves like a big child. Please.

Sure!! That sounds like something I would enjoy writing!! 😁😁. I hope you enjoy!!!. Also the baby is he/she.

A Baby's Need

Lucifer & Female reader

Note: Since the reader is an Archangel, and so is Lucifer. I made them two brother and sister. Also I put a bit of Y/n's back story as an Archangel.

Also: This made me want to write a series if there were a 5th (female) Archangel that I'm gonna post shortly.

Requested: by @aida690adriana

After you had baby AJ, you had to live your life on the down low, get away and raise your child. Being an Archangel and also a single mother is something you'd thought you'd never have.

The first few months of the baby's life were pretty tough, you were constantly changing diapers, fed the baby every 2 hours. Little AJ was completely restless. You're living out in a rural area in Colorado several miles away from the city. Your closest neighbor was a mile in a half away from your home.

Your child, AJ, who you're 100% sure is a Nephilim, is 9 months old. You'd never thought you'd get pregnant because you're an Archangel, and when you found out, you had to get away. Away from Heaven, away from other angels, away from Chuck. Live a quiet normal human life.

Fornicating with humans is a big no-no, completely frowned upon in Cloud City. Everything was going great in your life, before you had the baby and a bit after you had the baby, then your big brother Lucifer found you and your son/daughter. Practically moving in with you, and now you have to deal with two babies. For the love of dad *face palm*.

He maybe "The Devil", and "The Fallen Angel" but he happens to be a bigger baby than your actual baby. A literal child. Without his powers he's completely helpless.

"Y/n!!!!" he whines from the living room, as you feed AJ his/her bottle at the kitchen table, "Y/n!! Y/n!!! Y/n!!!".

You sigh, setting the bottle down and get up to see what he wants. "What is it Lucifer?!?" you ask.

He looks up at you with a pout on his lips, "I'm bored!" he whines, flailing his arms. Stomping his feet like a child. Seeing the mess he made from whatever it was that he was eating. When was the last time this man child left the house? .

You just shrug, "Okay? What do you want me to do about it?".

"I don't know, I'm just bored!!" he continues to whine, slouching on the couch. His hair a blonde, frizzy mess.

You sometimes can't believe you're related to this celestial. Yeah he's your brother and you love him, but he's just a pain in the ass. At least with Gabriel, or even Castiel they would try to help you, their sister, and raise their nephew/niece.

"You know Lucifer you didn't have to come looking for me" you tell him as you sit down on the couch, still holding AJ, "I'm capable on taking care of myself and my child".

He gives you a mocking look, "Welp, I got tired of being in Heaven and I got bored in Hell. So I wanted to go look for my little sister" he tells you, playfully nudging your arm.

You roll your eyes, and scoff "Did you though?".

He nods, "Yeah!".

You narrow your eyes at him, "Did you though?"

Rolling his eyes at you, drooping his shoulders back, "Yes I did!".

You give him a "serious" look with a raised eyebrow "Lucifer? Did you though?".

He scoffs, playfully hitting your shoulder, "You're annoying".

You retaliate, hitting him back "You're annoying".

"You're annoying!" he says, poking your shoulder.

"You're a child!" you tell him, poking his shoulder. He sticks his tongue out at you, "See you're a child!".

You two go back and forth with the "You're annoying's" "You're a child" and hitting/poking each others shoulders.

You and Lucifer always had a good brother, sister relationship before he was cast out of Heaven, after that you lost communication with him until he found you and AJ. When he found you, he was low on grace and you had to take care of him. Nurturing him back to health, all that while taking care of your restless baby and now your older child brother.

You're the youngest out of the Archangels, and to top it off the only female. First was Michael, then Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel then you, Archangel Y/n. Technically you and Gabriel are twins but that's another story for another time. It's debatable according to Chuck.

You figured you have 4 older brothers and thought they'd be protective of you because you're their little sister. Wrong!, sort of. You still remember the day Chuck introduced you to your 4 older brothers before all the other angels were created/born.

Michael didn't really seem fond of you, neither did Raphael. Gabriel was just glad he wasn't the youngest but you two had an inseparable bond, Lucifer kept his distance from you but you grew on him, but he still saw you as the annoying little sister.

When he rebelled and was about to be cast out of Heaven, you came to his defense. Surpised that you defended him, and tried to convince your father, God, to let him stay in Heaven.

After he was cast out, you and Michael were at each others throats. Telling him that he betrayed his own family, defending Lucifer with every chance you got, if it weren't for Gabriel you probably would've gotten cast out too.

You two were both tired of seeing your brothers fight. Then Gabe left Heaven, leaving you behind not even asking you (his twin, possibly) to go with him, Raphael was disconnected from everything, and you left Heaven not long afterwards. You knew the consequences but you took the leap of faith and left.

Trying to adjusting to a human life, trying not to use your powers unless it was 100% necessary, then you met a nice guy, you two bonded, you had sex for the first time and then next thing you knew you were pregnant. You didn't know what to think of it and you told him the news.

The dude panicked, and bailed on you, leaving you by yourself. Just like your brothers and father did. Scared and not used to the human life, you hid away from everyone and everything. You made yourself forget about that man because you knew his time will come eventually. Afraid of the angels getting to you and your child.

When Lucifer found your whereabouts, he tracked you down and eventually found you, because he knew his brothers wouldn't want anything to do with him, neither would Heaven, but he knew you would. The one who came to his defense centuries ago, the one who tried to convince their father to let him stay.

"Why don't you be an uncle and hold AJ" you tell him, holding out your son/daughter to him.

He sneers at the infant, but grabs him/her holding him/her in his arms. Looking back and forth from you and your child.

"What am I supposed to do?!?" he asks, confused. Furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"Talk to him/her" you tell him, then you get up to go clean the kitchen because that's what humans do apparently.

He looks at AJ not knowing what to do or say, "Hey how's going?" he asks the infant. Making his/her typical baby sounds. Cooing and fussing in his hands.

"Can you speak?" he asks, "Talk. Speak to me! C'mon tiny human". He continues to babble to him/her, trying to get the 9 month old infant to speak to him.

You hear him talk to AJ from the kitchen, and a smile grows on your face. From hearing your big brother bond with his nephew/niece.

"Talk to me goose!" he continues to get the baby to talk to him, "What do you know of your speices?".

You laugh a little to yourself, then you hear him groan in disgust.

"Oh my dad!" he exclaims "Y/n!!!".

You go to the living room, and see him holding AJ away from him. Looking grossed out.

"Humans are disgusting!" he groans, "Why!!".

You take AJ from him, who is laughing and giggling. You check his/her diaper, Lucifer mocks the baby's laughter which only makes him/her giggle more.

"He/she pooped" you tell him, laughing. He gags in disgust, acting like a child who ate nasty vegetables for the first time. Crossing his arms, pouting on the couch.

You changed AJ's diaper, and since Lucifer is incapable of taking care of himself because of his lack of powers. You're practically forced to take care of your big brother, making sure he eats and sleeps. You still have some of your powers but you refuse to use them unless its necessary to do so.

You sometimes ask yourself if you're the 2nd eldest Archangel because of how Lucifer asks, like a child, a giant man celestial child. Him and AJ have a lot in common they're both babies, they make messes, they sleep a lot and they wake you up from your sleep.

They also constantly need to be bathed, but Lucifer can do that on his own. You learned how to cook from YouTube videos and recipes off of Pinterest. Wash clothes, and all other human activities and chores back when it was just you and AJ.

You clean up after both of them, because The Devil is still a rookie at cleaning up after himself and cleaning in general, not taking the human life very easily. He whines about everything but luckily you tolerate and put up with his childish behavior.

[samwinchestersgf]

guardian angel

requested by: anonymous

request: Could you write something with Gabriel being the guardian angel of Sam and Dean's little sister?

summary: sam and dean’s younger sister is a klutz. after cracking under the pressure of living up to her brothers’ reputation, gabriel, her guardian archangel, makes her feel better.

warnings: mild language. angst. gabriel being a turd bucket, and then being a sweetheart. fluff.

i sit around the big map table in the bunker with sam and dean. with my arms crossed, i lean back in my chair. damn, they’re insufferable at times, but, this time is worse than ever before.

“what do you mean i can’t come on the hunt with you?” i ask, outraged.

“i mean exactly what i said, y/n.” dean’s voice raises, daring me to top it.

i match his volume. “why can’t i come?!”

“because i said so, okay?” he gets up to his feet. he’s louder than me, and bigger than me. he always has been.

“this is some misogynistic bullshit.” i bring my tone up the slightest.

this really pisses him off. “i am not a misogynist for wanting to keep my little sister safe. sorry, that’s not how it works.”

“i’d be safe on the hunt!” i look over at sam for back up. he’s always been the more reasonable one.

he shrugs his shoulders and mouths the word, ‘sorry.’

“when have i ever not been safe on a hunt?!” i retry my approach.

“just about every damn time!” his voice booms through the bunker, ricocheting off the walls.

“i’ve never gotten hurt!” i look back over to sam, my eyes begging him to stand up for me.

“maybe you’ve never gotten that hurt... but you are super clumsy.” his voice is low and quiet compared to mine and dean’s.

“see, i’ve never gotten that hurt, just like, scratches and stuff.” i give him a smug look.

“you fall around so much, there’s a chance that this time could be the time that you get seriously hurt.” sam’s sympathetic with me, trying to get me to calm down.

sam has always been the level-headed sibling. he’s always the mediator. even when we were younger, the only person he’d argue with was dad, and he didn’t get the balls to do that until he was older. still, he’s 6 years older than me and has made it his personal duty to protect me. he enjoys playing the role that dean always got to play when we were little.

dean and i, though, are always at each other’s throats. it not that we don’t get along, because we do, but we both inherited our father’s stubbornness, whereas sam was blessed with mary’s mediating abilities. dean’s a whole decade older than me, so he thinks he’s all tough.

“i can take care of myself,” i reroute the conversation. i find myself saying that line a lot.

“when dad died, he made it my responsibility to take care of you and i’m not gonna let you go out and get hurt.” dean spits.

when dean brings up dad, out of respect, he knows that i’ll do what he says. that’s why he doesn’t bring him up very often. i lean backwards in my chair quickly, but too harshly. the chair goes flying down to the ground.

i close my eyes and prepare for impact, but it never comes. i feel myself being pushed up and back to the chair’s neutral position. my brothers look confused, and so do i.

“did you...?” my voice trails off, looking at dean.

“my reflexes are quick, but not that quick.” he shakes his head. “but, see? you’re clumsy.”

“dean, can i at least pr-“

“you’re not coming. i’m serious.” he says sternly.

“sam?” i turn to him, pleading with my eyes.

“sorry, y/n.”

i huff and push my hair away from the table, standing up. “fine. i’ll go to my room and be useless.”

as i whip around, my elbow bumps into the chair, which goes tumbling to the ground, charting course to land right on my feet. but, i’m yanked backwards, away from the chair.

“ow!” i yelp at the grip on my waist. “dean!”

“that’s wasn’t me.” he throws his hands up.

“seriously? i’m not stupid.” i gripe.

“it really wasn’t him.” sam confirms.

irked, i shrug it off. “whatever.”

i walk to my room and flop on the bed. what a lousy day. apparently i’m too clumsy for anything. frustration bubbles up in me. when are they gonna stop treating me like a little kid? i’m 25 years old.

i grip my pillow in my hands. stupid brothers. stupid hunting monsters. stupid clumsy feet. stupid everything. it’s not fun being the weakest link.

i groan and chuck my pillow across the room, but it stops midair. i blink, “what the fuck.”

i grab the gun from my bed side table, and when i turn back around, the pillow is gone. i stand up at the foot of my bed, holding the gun ready. something weird is going on.

something that feels a lot like my pillow smacks me in the back of the head. i turn around and point the gun at the wall. there’s nothing there. i let out a deep, shaky breath.

suddenly, my pillow is being held to my face from someone behind me. i let out a scream, and the pillow immediately falls to the ground. i turn around and with a sweep of my feet, knock the intruder to the ground. i stomp on their leg and cock my gun, pointing it at their head.

“who the hell- gabriel?”

footsteps pound down the hallway. it’s no doubt sam and dean, alerted by my scream. i look at him, absolutely confused.

“call off your attack dogs and then we’ll talk.” he says before disappearing again.

sam and dean burst through the door. dean is the first to speak, “what happened?!”

“there was a snake!” i lie. “he slithered back into the wall.”

“you scared us, y/n.” sam relaxed.

“well, the snake scared me.” i half-apologize.

they roll their eyes and leave. i shut the door behind them and cross my arms at gabriel, who has reappeared, but this time on his feet.

“why did you try to suffocate me with my pillow?” i whisper.

“just having some fun, darlin.” he smiles.

i’m not amused. “why are you here?”

“well, if you haven’t noticed, you’re a little clumsy.” he teases.

“if you’re just gonna bash me for it, you can leave.” i warn, aggravated.

“that’s not why i’m here. although, it is super funny.” he smirks.

“i will scream.”

“fine, fine. i’m your guardian angel, or whatever.” gabriel admits.

“my what?” i raise an eyebrow.

“all those times you should’ve gotten hurt out there, but didn’t? that was me.” he comes clean.

“so, you’re the prick that bruised my waist from grabbing me so hard.” i roll my eyes.

“i’m the prick that stopped you from breaking your toe.” he sasses. “let see the bruises.”

“gabriel, no-“

“seriously, let me see. i’m not supposed to let you get hurt.” he demands.

“it’s just some bruises.” i counter.

“that’s still an injury.” he points out.

i reluctantly lift my shirt up to my ribcage and hold it there, allowing him to look at the purple bruises he left. it’s an awkward moment, for sure. his eyes linger there for what seems like forever. i clear my throat, and he snaps out of it and walks toward me.

i let my shirt drop to it’s neutral position and back up, “what are you doing?”

“healing you.” he states.

“gabriel, it’s literally just a few bruises.” i screw up my face.

“it’s bruised down to the bone.” he informs me.

“what the hell?!” i lift my shirt up slightly and look at the bruises again. “all you did was grab me!”

“i’m an archangel, sweetie. we’re rough.” he winks.

“ew.” i throw my pillow at him.

“seriously, c’mere.” he beckons me toward him.

i roll my eyes and walk toward him, holding my shirt up. his large hands grip my waist, sending jolts of butterflies through my stomach. light radiates from his fingertips, and when he pulls away, the bruises are gone.

i gingerly press on my side, and there’s no pain at all. i look back up at gabriel, who is inches away from me. my face flushes red and i clear my throat, taking a step back.

“thank you.” i swallow.

“you’re welcome.” he nods.

dean’s shouts echo through the bunker. “we’re leaving now! remember to stay inside and call jody is you need anything.”

“gabriel?” i smirk.

“what?”

“you might have to protect me from my brother’s fists.” i grin.

“what? kid, don’t make my job harder. y/n-“

i take off towards the garage, taking a short cut, and hop in one of our spare cars. it’s a pickup truck. i sink low into the seat so the boys won’t see me. i hear them as they walk into the garage.

“i kind of feel bad, dean.” i hear sam say as they approach their car. “she really wanted to come.”

“so? she’ll be fine.” he shrugs.

“she’s upset.” sam reasons.

“and she’ll get over it. should we take the truck?” he asks. my body tenses up. oh god, please don’t take the truck.

“it’s too cramped in there.” sam shakes his head.

“you’re right.”

the door to the impala closes and i watch as they drive off. gabriel pops into the passenger’s seat beside me.

“this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. they’re gonna kill you.” he tells me.

“good thing i have a guardian angel.” i smile cheesily.

i speed off after them and follow them through the twisting roads. i wonder if they’re suspicious of me. they probably are. they’ve probably already recognized the car.

my phone rings, making me jump. i pick up. “hello?”

“is everything okay at home?” sam’s voice asks through the phone.

“yep. hey, where you guys even going?” i ask.

he sighs, “a vampire hunt. it’s not too far, but stay home. we should be back soon.”

“fine. bye, sam.” i hang up the phone. “ready to watch me kill some bloodsuckers, gabe?”

“y/n, you should go home.” he leans back in the seat.

“if you say that again i’ll make your job even harder by crashing the car.” i joke.

he scoffs. “seriously, go home.”

“listen, i don’t even need a guardian angel in the first place, much less another person bossing me around.” my tone becomes serious.

“you do need a guardian angel.” he rolls his eyes. “you’d be dead by now without me.”

“bullshit. i don’t need- or want a guardian angel. so, go away.” i huff.

“y/n, c’mon-“

“go away and stop guarding me, gabriel.” i demand.

he sighs. “fine.”

he disappears and i slam on my steering wheel. i watch as sam and dean pull into a warehouse. i wait until they walk into the building to park and get out. i walk up behind them and tap them on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin on my face.

“y/n, what the hell?” dean whisper shouts. “get out!”

“i’m here to help, there’s no reason in sending me home now.” i smile.

“i’m killing you when we get home.” he groans as vampires come running towards us.

i take my machete and start slinging, one by one demolishing the nest by cutting their heads off. i get carried away. i’m doing really good!

a pair of fangs plunge into my neck and start sucking. a sharp pain coarses through my body. i scream and writhe under their touch. i feel the blood flowing out of my neck and into their mouth, but i’m utterly helpless.

i’m pushed to the ground, away from the vampire. i look up and watch as gabriel decapitates him. he looks down at me, his face saying all i need to know. if he were to speak right now, he would say- “i told you so.”

he quickly leans down and presses two fingers to my neck, healing my injury, and then vanishes into thin air. sam and dean come running over to my side.

“are you okay?” sam asks.

“did it hurt you?” his voice is threatening.

“no, i killed him.” i lie. “i just fell.”

dean is furious with me, so he drives home alone, while sam accompanies me in the truck. after a few minutes of driving, he turns to me with a smile on his face.

“you faired pretty well.” he’s full of pride.

i know i really didn’t, and i’d probably be dead if it weren’t for gabriel. “i know.”

back at the bunker, i sit on my bed, hugging mh pillow. i was raised by one of the best hunters ever, and i suck at hunting. i’ve had every resource i could imagine to get better, and all the experience i could have, and i still suck.

i cry. the hot tears stream down my face. i’m really not good at anything, am i? i’m the worst winchester. i can’t do anything. i need a guardian angel to save my life because i can’t even handle myself with a dumb vampires nest. sam and dean were right; gabriel was right; everyone was right about me.

the bed dips a little in the corner. i look up and see gabriel sitting there, watching me. i sniff and wipe the tears away, trying (and failing) to cover up the fact that i’m upset.

“you’ve gotten stop surprising me like that.” i force a laugh.

“i’m always watching, y/n. i know you’re crying.” he’s sympathetic, but i don’t want him to be.

i deflect. “always watching? that’s creepy.”

“a little, but enjoy the show.” he laughs.

“ew, gabe.” i crinkle up my nose.

“why are you crying?” he asks, getting back on topic.

“do we really have to talk about this?” i groan.

“well, i am your guardian angel.” he shrugs.

“i’m not hurt.”

he adds, “physically.”

“it’s a story for another time,” i sniff.

“no, no. now.” he corrects.

i roll my eyes and hesitate. “i’m the worst winchester.”

“you’re all pretty insufferable, and stubborn.” he waves a dismissive hand.

“gee, thanks, but, thats not what i mean.” i press my lips into a grimace. “i can’t hunt. i need a stupid guardian angel to watch over me so i don’t die. i’m not good at anything.”

“i bet you’re good at something.” he reasons.

“nope.” i shake my head.

“hm...” his eyes flicker down to my mouth. my breath hitches.

he leans in, before i could even protest (if i wanted to), and kisses me. gabriel, the archangel, kisses me. my hands work through his hair momentarily before he pulls away.

he breaths, “you’re good at that.”

my face flushes red. maybe i do need a guardian angel.

[idreamofhazel]

The Boyking: Chapter 7

Characters/pairings: Dallas, Bobby, Dean, Castiel

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: This story is overall angsty. Read the masterpost description to get the full idea. I will put specific, important warnings on each chapter unless there are none.

A/N: Surprise! I’m still writing this. This is the only thing I am writing at the moment, when I can. I had actual quiet time the other night and pulled up this doc. After some edits, I figured it was good enough to post. So here’s another chapter for those of you still reading <3

The man with piercing blue eyes pushed his way through. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on the symbols. “Where’s the blood?”

“The fridge,” Bobby said.

Nobody moved or talked. The man disappeared through another doorway and reappeared moments later with a jar half-full of the thick, red liquid. He began repainting the symbols in the hall, quickly but with care, eventually disappearing into other rooms of the house to continue his work. 

Dallas crossed her arms and tapped her foot, letting her eyes float aimlessly around the room. Neither Dean nor Bobby said a word. 

Several long, silent minutes passed before the blue-eyed man returned downstairs, putting the now-empty jar in the kitchen. He returned to the hall and nodded at Bobby. The collective tension lifted.

“Why are you here?” Dean, now able to speak, asked Dallas.

“Looking for you,” she said plainly. “Your brother seemed very concerned.”

Dean seemed to share Dallas’s surprise at Sam’s level of concern.  

“I think the more important question is why she had to be here,” Bobby interrupted. 

“We need to talk in the panic room,” the other man interrupted. 

No one protested. Everyone followed Bobby, Dallas last in line, through the hall, and a door in the kitchen, and then down a flight of stairs. At the bottom was a standard dark, damp basement, large and filled with cluttered, metal shelves. They walked through the room and up to a large steel door. Bobby opened the door with a yank of the oversized handle, the massive hinges squeaking in protest. 

They all stepped inside and Bobby shut the door behind them. A loud thud sounded and echoed off the cavernous, cylinder walls. Dallas’s eyes went wide as she gazed up to the ceiling where a fan turned, circulating air throughout the structure. Her gaze floated back down to eye-level, and she noticed the cabinets of rations and a lonely cot off to the side that pathetically decorated the space. The hunter seemed to have stocked the room with supplies intended for an indefinite lockdown. 

Dean’s friend was the first to speak again. “We’ve been running from an angel, and we had to lay low for a couple of days.”

Dallas’s eyes grew wide. “Angel?” she blurted out.

All eyes were on her, and specifically, the man whose name she didn’t yet know. He squinted, and Dallas felt uncomfortable under the intense gaze.

“Guess I forgot to mention Dean’s friend is an angel,” Bobby said.

“Seriously? I mean, I’ve heard stories but--”

Bobby gave Dallas a reassuring nod. “But Castiel here’s a little different, a little more human than most angels, and we trust him with our lives.”

“And what is your name?” Castiel questioned. 

“Dallas,” she answered. 

“This is the hunter I was talking about,” Dean added.

Castiel spent a longer time looking at Dallas, analyzing her, than Bobby had when she first appeared on his doorstep. She crossed her arms as if the action would add a barrier to his piercing gaze, protecting her heart, and her secrets, from the celestial creature.

“So, can I ask why an angel was chasing you?” Bobby asked, having no time for the awkward silences.

Castiel broke his gaze with Dallas, attention turning to Bobby. “We went looking for clues about an artifact,” Castiel answered, “stolen from a missing collector, Bela Talbot. I believe you all knew her?”

Dallas tucked away her reaction as an uneasy feeling began to grow in her stomach.

“What artifact?” Bobby asked.

“An angel blade, which I first believed to be a common blade wielded by the common angel, such as myself. But then one of my sisters showed up at Bela’s home and told us she was meant to watch over the house. This omission seemed to be an oversight of communication between our superiors at first. I was not told there would be any angels watching the house. But the more questions I asked, she began to act strangely.” 

Dallas felt a pit growing inside her stomach, gnawing at her insides, churning the contents of her stomach, as she maintained a calm outer appearance. There’s no way they could connect me to Bela. I didn’t leave behind evidence. I made sure of it.

“I was told by an angel named Zachariah to look for clues. When I communicated with the other angel’s superiors, they acted as if they knew nothing about my quest. Someone is lying, but I’m not sure who. This angel at the house, she attacked me. That’s why we had to flee.” Castiel finished solemnly.

“What was it you were saying about the angel blade? What’s so special about it?” Bobby asked.

“As I said, common angels such as myself and my superiors all carry the same, simple angel blade.” He pulled a blade out from under his trench coat, demonstrating his description. “Silver, a straight blade, but the highest rank of angels, the archangel, carry a modified, more powerful version. The blade is twisted and slightly bigger than a standard blade, but also silver. I was told by Zachariah that this is the kind of blade that was stolen from Bela. It is unclear whether Bela knew what she had in her possession.”

Dallas stared at Castiel’s angel blade, know immediately that her blade--the one she stole, the one that Ruby now possessed--looked nothing like the one in front of her.

“Did you find anything about who took it?” Bobby asked.

Dean answered this time. “Not much. But the warding in that place nearly knocked Cas on his feet, which means whoever stole the blade is most likely human. That and they shot up the safe where Bela had it locked up. Couldn’t find any shells, though.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment until Dean finally looked over at Dallas.

“You ok?” he asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Dallas couldn’t take her eyes of Castiel’s weapon. “Yeah, just, uh, the whole angel, archangel, angel blade thing.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s like that for everyone the first time.”

“Yes,” Castiel added, putting his blade back under his coat, “I imagine it’s been very challenging, especially after meeting Sam Winchester. How has your stay in Hell been?”

“Dark, boring, uneventful,” she rattled off, “Nothing special really.”

Castiel’s interest seemed piqued. “Sam, he treats you decently?”

“Yeah, I guess. He feeds me. Hasn’t put me up on a torture rack yet,” Dallas gave a half-hearted smile, then tucked her arms together again and looked away. Sam Winchester has treated me… decently. The words felt like betrayal on her mind’s tongue.

His curiosity sated, for the time being, Castiel turned to Dean. “What will you tell Sam?”

“I’ll tell him the truth. Don’t know if it’s connected to anything, but he’ll want to know.”

“I agree,” Castiel added. “It seems my family may be up to something in secret. I’ll be keeping some distance from heaven for now.”

“Well, I guess my only question after all this, is whether or not my house is going to be blasted to smithereens by some angry angels in the near future.” Bobby sounded half-serious, half-joking.

“Maybe, but it's unlikely. If you stay in this room most of the time, you should stay alive if that were to happen,” Castiel stated. 

“Gee, thanks,” Bobby remarked. 

Dean now looked at Dallas. “You heading back with me?”

Dallas considered refusing, hopping into Sam’s loaner, and driving across the border to Mexico. She could start a hunting career by the beach, maybe find La Llorona or El Chupacabra. That would be a nice life, calm life. But this life would still be here, not gone, only paused, waiting for her the second she got bored or dragged back in. And that was no way to live anyway, with no aim or purpose, a history waiting to attack her the second she lets her guard down. 

“Sure am,” she said. “How are we getting back?”

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[cas-huggybear]

God’s most beloved

A/N: this is just a random story I wrote. It’s about Lucier and his fall, his time in the cage and his relationship with his family. And why he tortured Sam Winchester.

He was God’s favorite.

He loved him and siblings deeply.

It hadn't been his fault. The mark, his father had given him, it poisoned his mind.

God had acted irresponsible and foolish, putting such a burden on his most beloved child. He should have known that an object of such power would be too much, even for an archangel.

Then God created men.

Of course Lucifer became jealous of mankind because he loved his father more than anything, and he believed so did his father.

But he was wrong.

God showed more concern fore those creatures than him.

He could not comprehend how such weak and foolish beings even deserved to exist.

So he wanted to set humanity free; to show them that there is more than blind obedience and that free will exists. He would free their minds of the illusion his father created, show them how wrong their beloved God was.

So he seduced her, Eve, the woman. Not because she was weaker than Adam, it had been the contrary. He found more pride in seducing the stronger one, to humiliate his father even more.

He laughed when he saw Adam eating the apple out of Eve's hand, greedily biting and chewing, the sweet juices dripping down his chin.      

And he laughed when he twisted Lilith's human soul, creating the first of the demons.

But then his family turned against him, coldly banishing him from heaven.

And he should have known the angel's blind devotion to their father wasn't something to be quickly overruled.

But the devotion in those who followed him burned hot and the war that came was terrible.

Heaven was shattered, and the descendants of Adam and Eve were terrified, cowering on earth below every time a deafening rumble from above rang in their fragile ears.

When he remembers the war, which divided heaven forever, all he can see is his brothers and sisters.

Angels, slain. Their wings ripped out on the base, terrible, gaping holes where beautiful, divine feathers should be.

Angels, broken and battered.

And he knew, what burns hot, fades even faster. By the time it wasn't utter love and admiration he saw in their eyes. Instead, he saw doubt and grief, slowly turning to anger and hatred. Towards him.

And in his terrible wrath he smote those who doubted him, smote his own people.

After that there were whispers in his own garrison. Whispers, that he had become insane, driven to madness by having to kill his own siblings.

And if he would have been honest to himself, he secretly knew those voices were right. But he was known for his pride and so he refused to believe so.

Perhaps he was insane, but for a different reason. The Mark. The Mark to seal away his father's sister, the Mark that held too much power for him to bear. He had to lose it. And he found a way. The foolish human Cain, tricked and deceived by the Morningstar now bore the Mark, making it widely known. Making him the first human to commit the most terrible crime: murder. He slaughtered his own brother Abel with the jawbone of a mere cow. Lucifer laughed as he saw the despair in father's eyes as it happened.

But he was afraid, afraid because he knew there was still no going back now.

Then it happened.

His father gave the orders. Lucifer followed out of pride, his beloved brother Michael followed as always out of obedience.

There was a time when he secretly used to be jealous of his brother. What a perfect soldier he was. He knew he could never be like him, and the doubt wormed its way up to his heart. But father's strong, soothing hand on his shoulder and gentle words of assurance had simply made the doubt vanish.

The first thing the oldest archangel had noticed while entering the imposing throne room, was Michael's place, – at father's right. The place where he used to stand, assisting father, deliberating with him.

Tall, proud and in golden armor, sword in his mighty hand, Michael did not look at Lucifer when he entered. His piercing blue gaze was fixated right above his brother's head, not acknowledging him. Lucifer couldn't help but grin at his brother's stubbornness.

A choir of whispers surrounded him, hundreds of angel's bearing witness in the throne room.

There was a time those whispers were full of worship and adoration – adoration for him, the Morningstar. But instead of soft, quiet whispers, words of fondness and devotion, those whispers were now cruel and harsh, piercing like the ice-cold wind of earth below.

Insane... evil... traitor... unholy... MONSTER!

He growled and turned around, facing the brutal voices. How could they. They were his family. How dared they insult him that way. After all he was the first and most powerful archangel, Lucifer Morningstar, the bringer of dawn and (he used to be) God's most beloved.

And who were they? Low, meaningless angels, talking about him like he was insane, when in truth they were the blind, little sheep.

He smiled. Pathetic, he thought, as he looked into their faces, expressions full of terror. He snapped his fingers, a dozen angels disintegrating. The unharmed angels cried out in horror, cowering under his fiery blue stare and he delighted in their fear.

“LUCIFER!”

There he was. His brother finally looked him in the eye. Lucifer grinned at him too.

“You will pay for this.”, Michael's voice sounded, threateningly low, but his older brother was not impressed.

They met in the middle of the white throne room, surrounded by angels and marble-pillars.

It happened fast. Michael raised his sword. The proud, strong archangel Michael, but most of all his dear brother, was fighting him.

They had fought before, before all of it happened. They had fought about every mild inconvenience, driving father and his siblings mad. But back then, there was always some sort of playfulness, even cheer in their eyes. And if he hurt Michael in a serious manner, or the other way around, the brothers would always apologize, hug and laugh it off, not seeing the content smile on their father's face afterwards.

But not now.

Now, it was Michael's intent to end him. His hits showed no mercy, relentlessly battling him, channeling all his strength. His mighty sword coming down on his and the look on his face, grim and cold, showing no emotion.

Lucifer knew his brothers and sisters were watching them, they cried out in horror every time one of them was hit.

The two beautiful brothers were fighting hard and relentlessly, divine swords crashing together in loud, metallic rings.

But Lucifer knew he was still a better fighter, more powerful. He was the first archangel, angel, older than his brother and he would win.

Or so he thought. He had underestimated his brother's grim determination, underestimated Michael's will to turn against him.

At first he thought there was a chance of talking to his stubborn brother, but every time he attempted to speak, his brother's eyes would glow, bright and blue, and his celestial energy would force Lucifer back.

Still the Morningstar believed he would win that terrible battle.

And Lucifer was furious. How could his brother do that to him? How could father do this to him? He loved them, he loved all of his family.

They were both bleeding now, grace shining bright through their bodies.

Father's voice rumbled through heaven's throne room, commanding them to halt in their action. They both stopped, Michael out of obedience, Lucifer out of old habit.

Father's accusations numbed him but at the same time...

There it was.

The flame inside of him, burning bright and red through his eyes and Michael's look of utter disturbance when he saw his brother's blue eyes turn red for the first time fueled his unstoppable rage even more.

With proud strides the Morningstar made his way over to father's throne.

The angels screamed as they saw him raise his sword at father, and then he screamed when  Michael roughly yanked him backwards.

By his wings.

The most sensitive and most holy part of an angel's body. The most intimate. He could feel feathers ripping out, blood spilling, the small bones crushed under Michael's merciless grip.

With a roar he turned around with the intention of causing Michael as much pain as he experienced.

But then it happened. For a split second he could see Michael's facade crumble when he heard father's command. He could see the real Michael, not the cold soldier but his little brother, staring up at him in dread. Even for Michael father's choice of punishment sounded cruel.

Lucifer stared at his brother, awaiting his reaction.

A choir of terrified angel voices followed them again and when he saw the clouds dividing, the distant green of earth so contrary to the white marble of the throne room, he knew it was the end.

Michael's expression shifted back to grim and determined.

For the last time Lucifer allowed himself to look at his brothers.

Gabriel. Tears were streaming down his little brothers face, arms around a little fledgling who had buried his face in Gabriel's side.

Raphael stared at him without emotion, looking at him as if watching the clouds in heaven.

But Lucifer couldn't look at father. Not after this. He despised him.

And in this moment he swore his revenge would be terrible.

With gleaming red eyes he turned his face to look at Michael. The cold breeze from the opening rustled his and Michael's feathers.

He grinned at his brother, his face a mocking grimace.

“What are you waiting for, brother?”, he spat.

With another violent pull Michael yanked him forward once again and he could hear his bones break. The pain emerging from his wing was almost unbearable.

Lucifer wanted to stop his brother from dragging him, tried hitting him with his bare hands, kicking him, clawing at him, anything to protect his wings, but his hands did not affect Michael and he knew, it was father who protected his brother against his attacks.

He stumbled after his little brother, cursing him, cursing father and the entirety of heaven.

When his other wing broke, the angels started crying but he simply laughed.

“You are a monster, Lucifer.”, his brother's cold voice hurting him more than his grip on his wings.

With those words Michael let his white, bloodstained wings go and violently kicked him, hard, in the back, right between his destroyed wings.

Then he fell, accompanied by his sibling's cries.

What he mostly remembers from the fall is pain and the smell of his burning wings. Once he reached a certain speed, he was nothing but a ball of fire.

His broken wings were flapping useless above him, burning.

He tried to do anything to slow himself, tried to lift his once strong wings, but the broken bones did not allow him to.

It is said the scream that erupted from Lucifer's throat that moment shook not only heaven, but hell and earth as well.

And mankind was terrified once they caught sight of the archangel, falling in a fiery mess, and heard his terrible cry.  

The moment he collided with earth's rough surface, he wished he had lost consciousness.

Instead, he hit the surface with a shattering thud.

Only then, everything went black.

When he woke up again, he found himself behind strong, warded metal bars., His father's print clear on them.

He knew father had meant to bind him, to not release him upon the earth, threatening his oh so beloved creation.

The millennia he spent imprisoned in the cage had their fair share on him. Healing was hard, all alone in the darkness with no help.

His wings...

His beautiful wings were destroyed. The once alabaster white feathers, with sprinkles of pure gold at the feather's ends were now black and stunted – burned.

And he wept for them, wept alone in the darkness of the sickening cage, wept for his despair and repudiation.

Once he used to laugh at his father's poor creativity, locking him up just like he did to his sister.

Once he used to laugh at the screams of the doomed souls, suffering.

After a while he stopped. He became... considerate, quiet.

Over hundreds of years he took the time of the solitude to heal himself.

And finally his wings were restored to their former glory, as well as the rest of his body.

But not his mind. It was broken and no grace, no divine power could repair it. There was nothing but a storm of dark clouds, full of hatred, disdain and rage.

So he was left with himself. Thinking, planning, listening.

And how he learned to loathe his father and all his creation.

The once beautiful archangel Lucifer Morningstar, God's most beloved child, was now the Devil.

Twisted, sick and evil, he waited.

A whisper. Promises from Azazel, one of his princes. Promises for him. He hoped Azazel wouldn't fail – otherwise not even the bars of the damned cage would save the demon from his wrath.

Then, he felt a low rumble, vibrating through the cage.

Then another. And another.

He could sense her coming. His first creation. Lilith. After all she was bound to him.

Her words were the sweetest music in his ears.

Music, of the 66 seals being broken, music of heaven's armies failing.

And finally he laughed again and all of hell heard him and cheered.

Lucifer would walk the earth and be their salvation.

With the last seal breaking, the fire in him burned again, after a long time.

He was free again.

Finally he was going to get his revenge.

And it would be so sweet.

He smiled. He would destroy the one thing that brought him his doom – humanity.

And he would find such pleasure in destroying his father’s most beloved creation.

Lucifer would destroy mankind the same way his father had destroyed him.

He was surprised at how easy it was to possess his first vessel. How easily manipulated humans still were.

Thousands of years after their creation and they were just as weak and pathetic as the day they first opened their eyes.

The suffering they would endure once he had raised hell would be terrible, and he hoped that father, wherever he was, would see the mistake he made.

He knew his brother's garrison was after him, but he had other, more important concerns.

For example convincing Sam Winchester to be his vessel – it was his destiny after all. The same way it was Sam's idiotic brother's destiny to be Michael's vessel.

But the brothers were... stronger and more resistant than usual, their brotherly love painfully reminding him of what he and Michael once used to have.

He did not worry though, they were just humans after all and he was, well, the Devil.

Then, the one thing he always tried to avoid happened.

His little brother, Gabriel got in his way, and he couldn't understand why he would care for those pagans. Lesser beings, not half as worth as his little brother himself, far beneath him.

So he left his little Gabriel the choice – him or Michael, to evaluate whether he was worthy of being a part of his new kingdom.

And oh how he wished his little brother would have picked him, how his foolish little brother would see that he was the right choice.

But Gabriel was blind and so he had to end him.

He simply couldn't show any more weakness. Now it was about his main goal, and to reach it. He would turn against his family for it, like they once turned on him. He had tried but his brother had left him no choice.

And so he had turned around, piercing his brother's own blade right through his heart, watching the life leave his eyes, shining bright and blue through them.

He cried and wept for his little brother but it had to be. There was no way he could allow any form of resistance in his kingdom.

The world would be his, only his.

But of course his other brother couldn’t let that happen.

Lucifer still loved Michael. Even now, after what Michael had done to him. Even after his last words to him had stung terribly.

So he tried talking to him, get him to understand that he wasn’t evil. (Just) simply misunderstood.

But his stupid, prideful, stubborn brother wouldn’t listen to him. He was just as blind as Gabriel was.

So they had to fight and he knew he would win. He was the Morningstar after all.

And his kingdom would rise.

But then, this miserable human and his imbecile brother damaged his plans.

When Sam Winchester accepted to be his vessel, he knew he should have locked him far away in his mind before, but it was so much fun watching the younger Winchester suffer.

Watching it tear him apart that he wasn’t strong enough to overpower him, to watch innocent people die at his own hands.

And how he enjoyed beating up the pitiful other one, Dean, making him suffer at his Sammy’s hand.

But he underestimated them, and he cursed himself for it.

His stupid vessel took control, and it grabbed Michael, dragging both of them with him.

And then he was there again.

The one place he wished to never be again, the one place he feared.

He had wished to never having to look at the iron bars, how they seemingly got closer with every breath he took.

But this time he wasn’t alone.

And even if he couldn’t get his revenge on father, he knew ways nobody else knew of, to make the person suffer who brought him back to the hell hole.

A smile crept up his face.

He would break Sam Winchester.