[SPN] faith is a series of complications (10/16; ninth act)
IX: ninth act-gathering of the murder.
To Gabriel's immense surprise, it wasn't Dean but Sam who cornered him that night and asked questions.
“Okay, Gabriel,” the human started, both expression and tone suggesting that he was in no mood for any bullshit. “What really happened?”
Gabriel, of course, was never one to pay heed to anybody's warning, least of all Sam's (even as bad of a move as it was). The archangel put on his most innocent face, looking back at the other as he returned the words with a “What?”
“Gabriel,” Sam started again, his tone much more insistent.
The archangel sighed. “It's nothing that you need to be concerned about, Sammy. It's already been dealt with.”
“And Cas?”
Funny how such a simple question could also be needlessly complex at the same time. Gabriel pointedly ignored the momentary lapse of his own body, how his blood froze for a moment and how his chest constricted, forcing his heart up his throat. Quickly composing himself again, Gabriel swallowed down the lump before he replied. “What about him?”
He was certain that Sam had noticed the lapse, but for some reason he didn't point it out and after a moment's pause, spoke again. “He's... well, you're helping him.” He paused, giving Gabriel a look before adding on. “Right?”
Depends on what you define as help, the archangel thought to himself. “What's with the sudden questioning, Gigantor? Can't you ask him yourself, or are you that much of a girl?”
A guilty look passed Sam's face at the words, but he quickly covered it up with a scowl. “Shut up, Gabriel. Just answer me.”
“Well, I am his brother,” Gabriel made a small shrug. “And he's helping me. Only right that I repay the favor.”
Upon hearing the answer Sam instantly sagged, a sigh escaping him. “That's... good. That's good.” He took a step back from the archangel, nodding. “I'm glad to hear that.”
Seriously, was Gabriel missing something here? He raised his eyebrows, casting a questioning look towards the younger Winchester. “Sam, is something wrong?” Sure, he knew some things about Castiel that the Winchesters most likely didn't, but the fact stood that he had skipped out of heaven for countless years. Fundamentally, he could still be the same little nerdy angel, but things always had a way of changing, especially considering the recent years. Just about anything could happen.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing, really,” he replied, and Gabriel could hear the honesty in his voice and sense that Sam wasn't lying. “It's just... it’s nice to see somebody else other than Balthazar helping him out. It's been hard on him, you know?”
Gabriel snorted. “Well, it would help if you and Dean-o tried to understand him a little better. You all haven't been really chummy with each other, I noticed.”
“Yeah, well,” Sam shifted uneasily, guilt flashing across his face again. “It's just been hard on us all.”
“That isn't a reason for you idiots to continue playing Cold War with Cas,” the archangel found himself snapping out before he could help it, scowling fiercely. Thinking about how Castiel was putting himself up against Raphael, remembering how he worked with Crowley of all people and just-he couldn't bear to think about it, not after what had happened earlier today. “What he needs is support, and none of you are giving that to him.”
Sam blinked at the sudden outburst, just as surprised as Gabriel himself was at his own lack of control. The archangel instantly fell quiet, flinching when the human took a step closer again and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture of assurance. “That's why it’s a good thing that you're here,” he said, a small smile touching his lips. “You're his brother after all. Family means everything.”
“The classic Winchester creed,” Gabriel returned in a mutter, knowing just how true that held for him now.
Sam's smile widened ever so slightly at the words, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Well, I guess that just means you're part of the family now.”
It was just Loki going along with them this time, since there were matters back in Heaven that Castiel needed to attend to, and considering how things were going at the moment, Gabriel knew that it was important that Cas go and settle them. Still, he couldn’t help but be worried about the lesser angel-with the angel's arrangement with Crowley now broken, only Father knew how he was going to be able to win against Raphael. The pagan gods did promise their help, but… Gabriel knew he had to be realistic here; there was no way that the gods would ever be capable of overpowering the angels entirely. The Trickster was most likely the only one with enough juice to turn the tides in their favour, but she had a no interference clause slapped on her (as the girl constantly pointed out to all of them). Dean might bitch all day about it, but the bottom line was that she could not help, and Gabriel knew that she was already doing everything within her capacity.
Still, he certainly hadn’t expected her to actually turn to Jack Crow of all people to aid them; Crow was nothing but an enigma to the gods, almost an alien to Loki herself. Like Gabriel he, too, fell under the Trickster’s law and thus couldn’t refute the Trickster’s command, but even Loki had admitted before that Crow was one of her harder subjects to understand. He had never made trouble, not really, but… well, ‘eccentric’ would be one way to describe him. Gabriel had only ever met him a few times under the mantle of Loki, but even then the other god had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t really describe.
Discomfort was written all over Loki’s face when she lowered her hand, having snapped all of them to their destination. The sun beat down heavily upon them, and Gabriel was already finding himself starting to sweat profusely; around them were nothing but dark-skinned people hustling along the streets, and some of them turned to pause at the abrupt appearance of four very light-skinned people.
Sam frowned, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Where are we?”
Loki made another face, and Gabriel could sense the other’s pure irritation at the location they were in. “Congo,” was her eventual response.
The one-word answer instantly caused Dean to jerk his head towards the girl, eyes wide as he echoed a bit too loudly for the archangel’s tastes. “We’re in the freaking Congo?”
The Trickster’s expression darkened at the words, although it wasn't directed at Dean. “Should’ve known he’d pick a location like this.” She muttered before snapping her fingers again, and now Gabriel found himself swiftly cooled down, the sun no longer affecting him like before. Sam and Dean received the same treatment, judging from the surprised looks on their faces; before they could say anything however, Loki was already starting to move, pushing through the crowd as she muttered under her breath in a language nobody could make out, not even Gabriel.
Deciding to pick up the cue, Gabriel turned around and gestured for the Winchesters to follow him as he went after Loki, working his way through the crowd as well, and trying to ignore the many stares he was getting as they moved along.
“What kind of asshole picks a place like this to set up shop for whatever the hell he's doing?” the archangel heard Dean muttering behind him, the words more likely directed towards Sam rather than him.
Sam frowned. “Somebody who doesn’t want to set up shop, I suppose.”
Gabriel decided to be nice for once and fill in the details for them. “Or somebody who likes a place with a lot of dying people.”
Dean blinked at the answer, clearly not getting it, but Sam on the other hand frowned even deeper and Gabriel could almost hear the gears starting to clink around in that giant head of his. “Conflict materials,” Sam stated, although that didn’t really help in lessening Dean’s confusion over the entire issue, as evidenced by the deepening frown.
“That’s just one of the things, Gigantor,” Gabriel returned with a small, wry smile. “But let’s not go into the grisly details. Bottom line is that a lot of people die here, and that makes Crow a happy guy since it makes his job easier.” He paused for a moment, speaking up again before Dean could ask the budding question. “You remember what Loki said yesterday?”
Sam nodded, and quoted the words that Loki had told them. “Where everybody’s from and nobody goes, that’s where you’re gonna find Jack’s crows.” The younger human blinked and inclined his head. “What does it mean, anyway?”
“It means what it means, Sam,” the archangel replied, politely easing through the crowd still (with some aid of his still-recovering powers). “Crow’s… well, Crow’s kind of in a unique position. Technically he falls under the Trickster’s law, but he’s also more than that. You guys know about psychopomps, right?”
Dean let out a snort at the question. “Considering that we’ve all died at some point or another already, yeah, I think we know them well enough by now.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Dean-o. Point is, Crow-he’s something of a psychopomp himself. ‘Where everybody comes from and nobody goes’, I quote.”
“So… what?” Sam, asking with a rather skeptical look on his face. “Does he bring souls to Heaven or Hell or something?”
“Not exactly.” Now Gabriel had an inkling of why Loki wasn’t so keen on going to see Crow, considering the situation. “You know that old folktale about storks bringing babies overnight? It’s something like that, only with souls rather than magically appearing kids.” The blinks from both Winchesters signalled Gabriel that he had effectively lost them there. The archangel sighed and rebooted his explanation. “Well, you know how angels are made-we’re built with nothing but Grace, and through the Host we’re sustained. Demons are just humans with their humanity torn out of ‘em. The pagan gods are built on the beliefs and thoughts of the people who worship them. Point is, each and every being always has a point of origin.” He paused for a moment, letting the brothers take it all in properly before he went on. “Humans, though-human souls are special. I mean, heck, almost everything supernatural is all built on the power of human souls, as you might have noticed. Ghosts, demons, wendigos, werewolves, vampires; they all come from the human soul in some shape or form.”
Gabriel could tell that Dean was completely lost already (not that the guy was ever one for brains anyway) but Sam was getting it pretty quickly, nodding cautiously to the archangel’s words. “So, the human souls…”
“They’ve got to come from somewhere, right?” Gabriel pointed out, looking at both Sam and Dean. “I mean, Dad isn’t around after all, but humans are still being born every second; sure, there’s reincarnation, but not every soul’s doing that. There are still souls being born even as we speak.”
“So the place they’re born-” Sam started, but Gabriel quickly cut him off.
“You forgot the quote, Gigantor. ‘Where’s everybody’s from and nobody goes’. They meant it literally. Not even I know where the human souls come from.” The archangel let out a small huff of breath and turned around, seeing the end of the crowd they’d been working through. “But basically Crow and the guys with him are in charge of carrying those souls to the people assigned to receive them. It’s a job nobody wants to mess with.” And now with the end of the world averted, Gabriel can only wonder how the guy was even working now. Was he still doing the same old things, or did anything change since the almost-Apocalypse? He supposed he would find out the answer to that soon enough.
“I still don’t get how this links to the dude being in a shitty place like this,” Dean spoke up, scowling.
Gabriel rolled his eyes again. “The cycle, Dean-o. Where there’s creation there’ll also be destruction,” He gestured towards their surroundings, “And where else to be in the hotspot for destruction but here? Death happens just about every second in this place. Crow is more than just a name, Dean. It’s who he literally is.”
Right after he said that there was the screeching cry of a crow, and the three of them raised their heads to see one flying past them, its jet-black feathers a stark contrast to the pale blue skies. It was an eerie sight in its own right, and trying to ignore the small chill that ran down his spine after that was next to impossible to accomplish. Gabriel made it a point to quickly look back down, going through the last of the crowd so that he could break out of the people, and into the outskirts of the town they were in. Loki was waiting for the three of them when they emerged out into the open, a small smile on her face.
“Now that we’re all on the same page,” she went, the smile only growing wider before the girl turned around to face one of the tumbled down buildings standing nearby, “Be sure to keep your pants on. We’re going in.”
The icy chillness of the inside was a stark contrast to the blistering heat they had been in just moments earlier. It wasn’t any natural draft that Gabriel knew of-he felt a shiver rippling through his body, his Grace doing nothing to block out the cold and frost as it went all the way into his bones and his Grace. Beside him Dean and Sam hardly looked any better and even Loki didn’t look too comfortable with the rapid shift in temperature.
Dean was the one who put two and two together, outright scowling as he hissed out through a wisp of smoke. “Fucking Hell.”
Who knew that Hell actually wasn’t all about the fire and brimstone it was cracked up to be? Gabriel certainly had no idea, and neither did Sam from the confused look on his face-although Dean was a different matter entirely judging from the dark look on his face. Still, it looked like the memories of Hell weren’t coming back to the younger Winchester, which the archangel supposed was a good thing. Considering how he had been locked in with Michael and Lucifer, Gabriel didn't even want to think about the things that his brothers might have done to Sam, what with the aversion of the Apocalypse and all that.
There was minimal light shining inside the building, making it hard to see (the mist lurking around their surroundings wasn’t helping with things either), and Gabriel had to squint as he trailed behind Loki, the Trickster cautiously making her way through pieces of half-rotten wood, as brittle bones crunched under her feet. Around them were crows of every shape and size and species, hanging from every available space and Gabriel could feel each and every one of their eyes watching them in silence. It was a starling contrast to the constant cawing humans knew them so much better for, and if he had to be honest the silence unsettled Gabriel badly. It was just… too unnatural, even for him.
The Winchesters seemed to have the same idea too, wary eyes darting across the room as they kept their gazes on the crows. Loki continued forward, leading the two humans and one archangel towards their destination in the inappropriately-sized house-Gabriel was pretty certain that the house looked way smaller on the outside.
“Are we there yet?” he heard Dean hiss out behind him, not even bothering to hide his irritation at the moment. Not that anybody could blame him, what with the unearthly cold and all.
“Almost,” was Loki’s returning mutter much to the trio’s surprise, but there was no time to dwell on said surprise as the Trickster quickened her pace, and they hurried to follow behind her. The litter of rotten wood and fragile bones lessened with each step they took now, and the mist cleared up as well. Gabriel found himself no longer breathing out steam through his nose, when they arrived at a space cleared of all the debris they had been trampling on, blinking as he stared at the shadowed figure hunched on a rickety old stool. The Trickster swung out an arm in the universal gesture for the three to stand back, before stepping closer to the figure, clearing her throat.
There was a moment’s pause before she spoke, her voice clear and sharp. “Jack Crow.”
At first, there was no response, the silence stretching on with nothing but the sound of their breathing filling in the quiet. At the corner of his eye Gabriel could see Dean’s short-temper growing thin, and the man was just about to open his mouth when the figure shifted without warning, the rustling of cloth breaking the stillness of the moment when tattered coattails flopped down behind. The archangel could hear bones popping in their joints-as if stiff from disuse-as bare feet planted themselves onto the ground, tones curling against the dirt. The tarnished gleam of old war medals winked and clinked quietly from above the breast pocket of the old military coat the god was wearing as Jack Crow straightened himself on the stool, although his head was still lowered.
Loki only watched impassively as the shadows gave way to the figure, only speaking up a few beats after silence fell in the room again. “Jack Crow,” she repeated, the sharp tone returning. It was pretty clear in just what capacity the girl was speaking under-not Loki the Norse god, but rather the god cast down to Earth, the Trickster herself.
A longer silence passed, and Loki seemed to be about to speak again when the head of the psychopomp shifted and the figure spoke; his voice a quiet, hollow rasp. “One, two, the Trickster’s coming for you.”
Gabriel and the Winchesters paused at the strangeness of his words, not at all certain what to make of it, but Loki only closed her eyes and let out a loud breath before speaking. “Three, four, better lock the door.”
Jack Crow’s head inclined, and the amusement bled into his next words. “Five and six, grab a crucifix.”
“Seven for the brace of an oncoming storm.” Maybe it was just him, but he was certain he could hear a hard edge creeping into the tone of Loki’s voice. It was hard to make out.
“Eight for salvation and nine of redemption.” The figure of Jack Crow shifted, and he tilted his head just enough again for Gabriel to make out the faint outline of a fedora hat over his head, the jet-black of the material having blended almost perfectly with the dim lighting of the place.
Loki sighed once more. “And ten for the deliverance of all,” she finished, and then a weak smile graced her features. “Had enough fun yet, Jack?”
Jack Crow raised his head now, unruly bangs doing little to conceal the unearthly glow of crimson red eyes that gleamed with the disconcerting colour of freshly-spilled blood. He looked disarmingly young, with the features of a boy who looked as if he hadn’t even gone through puberty yet. It was a stark contrast to the wry, all-knowing smile that crossed his features as his eyes flickered across all four of them, before they finally settled upon Loki. “Trickster,” he rasped once more, the smile growing wider as the eyes properly studied her now. “You looked better with pink hair, I think.”
“Green’s the new in,” the Trickster replied easily, the small smile still fixed on her face.
The smile on Jack Crow’s face, however, only grew wider. “It’ll look better when there’s blood streaked in it. I’m still looking forward to Pompeii version two.”
Both brothers’ eyes were as wide as saucers now, and it would honestly have been amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that this was Pompeii that was being talked about. Gabriel knew about Pompeii, alright-he had been there when it happened, after all.
The Trickster merely shrugged, a sheepish expression replacing the smile. “Not one of my better moments, I’ll admit.”
Crow made a small snort. “I liked it better when you didn’t care about the world,” he muttered, the hoarseness of his voice adding a distinct otherworldly quality to his words. “I suppose it’s to be expected though. Things always change.” He flicked his gaze at the girl again, adding quietly. “Even gods.”
An uncomfortable look crossed Loki's face-Gabriel raised an eyebrow at that, but he knew how unsettling Jack Crow could be, so he didn't say anything-but the girl quickly shook it off, going back to the topic at hand. “I didn’t come here to reminisce about the past, Crow,” the girl started as she turned her gaze back to the rumpled, almost frail-looking figure who was in reality so much more than he looked. “You know what I’m here for.”
The boy dipped his head, eyes gleaming once more. “Phoenixes,” he replied easily, and then the smile was back in full force. “I’ll be glad to hold one again when the time comes. They’re so rare, even to me.” His eyes flickered upwards to the roof and back down again. “Constantly reincarnating for years and years until time collapses upon them. It’s always such a delight to see that happen.”
Sam took a step forward then. “Until time collapses upon them?” he asked with a frown. Gabriel almost felt like smacking the giant idiot. There were just some things that Sam needed to shut up about, even with his eternal curiosity about things.
Still if anything the boy only seemed amused, and his crimson eyes sparkled in barely-disguised amusement. “Immortality is only a concept, Sam Winchester, and nothing more. Eternity died the moment Heaven lied, and Heaven lied from the moment it existed. Nothing really lives forever.”
“Death lives forever,” Dean blurted out, and Gabriel wondered if he could smack both of them. Father, did those two have a constant death wish or something? One did not just talk back to Jack Crow like this, not unless they both were willing to give up their lives again.
Crow turned his eyes towards Dean now, and it was impossible not to miss the bright twinkle in his eyes, as the boy broke into a brilliant smile that nearly split his face into two. “The Righteous Man,” he breathed out, voice filled with some parts of awe and quiet mirth. He lowered his head, the brim of his fedora obscuring his eyes as the psychopomp studied the human for a long moment before speaking up. “Over thirty years since I last carried your soul out from the Void, and still it shines as brightly as the day I just plucked it out from the roost.” He raised his head back up, the smile from earlier now shifting into something much darker. “I wonder if it’ll still shine as brightly when I take it back once your time comes.”
Dean shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by the words, but still put on a false bravado and replied. “Nobody’s going to be plucking my soul out anytime soon, bird brain.”
The smile Dean got in response was clearly placating. “For now.”
Gabriel decided to cut in before things could get any worse. “Crow.”
And now the red eyes were onto him, the intensity and unnaturalness of it making him uncomfortable. “Loki,” the boy murmured, inclining his head as he blinked. “Or would you be more comfortable with Gabriel again?”
“I’m taking up the position of Loki for the moment,” the Trickster supplied helpfully, filling in the crushing silence Gabriel felt after the question.
“I see,” Crow returned simply, never tearing his gaze away from Gabriel, who only shifted just a little bit awkwardly under the steadiness of those eyes. The archangel felt oddly naked under the other’s gaze, as if the other was seeing right into him and wordlessly picking him apart. It was not a very nice feeling to experience, considering the fact that it was usually him who was doing the picking apart bit of things.
Sam was the one who broke past the odd tenseness of the moment, clearing his throat as he spoke up to get the god’s attention. “So, err-phoenix ashes.”
Crow held his gaze on Gabriel for just a moment more before he turned to regard the younger Winchester, head inclined once more. “I do not just give things lightly, Sam Winchester,” he spoke, one eyebrow raised.
The statement caused everyone to frown while Dean muttered a vaguely-appropriate ‘fucking gods’ under his breath, earning the flash of another amused smile from Crow before the psychopomp explained. “All is equal in the eyes of death; I will be willing to give if I receive something of equal value.” He swept his crimson eyes across the four, the smile reappearing on his face when it came to Dean and he spoke up abruptly. “Souls hold no value to me, Righteous Man, so you need not worry. I will not take any from you.”
Dean made a start, clearly surprised at the words and Gabriel didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what Dean had been thinking. It was mildly insulting, thinking that all deals only ever involved souls. As much as they were not angels or monsters, pagan gods were also most certainly not demons, thank you very much. Still, he suppressed the snort threatening to come out of him as Crow turned away from the elder human to lay his gaze properly on Loki, smile widening. “Trickster,” he rasped again, and Gabriel wasn’t sure if he liked the mirth lacing the edges of the other’s voice. It was... worrying.
Loki’s own sudden desire to stare down and shuffle her feet, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, wasn’t making things any easier either. “What?” she replied, only after a few moments had passed. The other three all turned to look at her with a fair amount of uncertainty.
Crow’s unsettling smile only grew wider. “Show me.”
The girl turned her head away-a gesture that only made Gabriel worry even more. Since when did the Trickster feel shame? “Do I have to?” she asked, and it was impossible not to hear the quiet deflection that she tried to put in there.
“There is nothing else I see of worth at this moment,” the psychopomp answered, cloth rustling in the background as he settled himself properly on the stool he was on. “The wound of a god, Trickster. I wish to see it only and nothing more.”
Gabriel only barely caught the brothers’ mouthing of ‘wound of a god?’ to each other; the archangel himself frowned, trying to figure out just what was Crow going on about. ‘Wound of a god’? Was there something that Loki-the Trickster-had that Crow wanted to see that much? More and more, Gabriel felt the uneasiness within him increasing. What was going on here?
Loki let out a loud breath through her nose before speaking. “Just a look?”
“Nothing more,” Crow replied. “I promise.”
“Loki-” Gabriel found himself starting to speak, finding himself trying to stop whatever it was that the Trickster was trying to do. He had known the other for years on end, had been with her for so long while she roamed the Earth as the nameless god. It was just wrong now to see her brought to this, to see her coming to deals and exchanges in order to make things work. She was much more than that, Gabriel knew without a doubt. If only he wasn’t so useless.
“Don’t start blaming yourself, Gabe,” Loki went, the clarity of her voice cutting through Gabriel’s thoughts, and the archangel directed his gaze to look at the other’s clear emerald eyes. “I made this decision. None of this is your fault.”
Gabriel opened his mouth again in a bid to respond, but he felt a hand on his shoulder holding him back, and the archangel turned to see Sam now standing behind him, shaking his head silently. The uneasiness rose and Gabriel bit down on his bottom lip, turning back towards Loki who was reaching down for the ends of her shirt, fingers curling almost hesitantly over the hem. The Trickster stilled, looking up again to sweep her eyes across the room before landing her gaze back to Crow.
“Just a look,” the god assured, smile never leaving his face.
Loki sighed and closed her eyes, tightening her hold on the hem for a moment longer before she pulled it up, and the sight that greeted Gabriel was an unexpected one.
Across her belly, up her bellybutton and then beyond was a thick, ugly scar. The skin had healed messily, a giant keloid marking where the scar was. It started just a bit above her bellybutton, cutting at the side of it before going down to disappear beneath the hem of her jeans. Considering everything Gabriel had seen in his existence, the scar by itself was nothing terrifying-it was normal looking by all means-but seeing it on the Trickster was a jarring image. She was supposed to be flawless, untouched by man and everything in existence even when she was chained to the world; but yet here she was now, standing before them all sporting such a large scar that should never even be there in the first place.
Gabriel was just as shocked as the Winchesters were and it showed on their faces as Crow's smile widened, leaning forward on his rickety stool. It creaked as the boy wavered forward, leaning ever closer so that he could study the scar in detail.
"The wound of a god," Crow breathed out in an almost reverent tone, eyes sweeping down the scar.
Loki shifted uneasily; clearly not comfortable with the situation and at how she was being looked at by the other god. "You done looking?" she asked gruffly, emerald eyes flickering everywhere and never resting for even a moment. It was a strange gesture of discomfort, but one that Gabriel could see all the same. The discomfort confused the archangel however; there was no reason why the Trickster would be so uncomfortable. A scar was merely nothing but a scar after all, although its existence was worrisome enough. What could have been so powerful that it was able to injure Loki like that? There was hardly anything in existence that was stronger than the Trickster-
Gabriel froze, blood turning as cold as ice when realization clicked in his mind. There was hardly any being in this universe that had the power to scar the Trickster like that, not unless… Gabriel jerked his head up to look at Loki's apologetic look, the Trickster already having figured out what the archangel would realize as she made a tiny nod and dropped the hem of her shirt back down. Gabriel closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, attempting to keep himself together under Sam's worried gaze and Dean's own scowl while Crow rocked back on the stool and let his smile widen.
"A sight that I'll make sure not to forget," the boy spoke, amusement gleaming in his crimson eyes while he laid his gaze on Gabriel once more, and the next words he spoke struck the archangel more than anything else ever had. "You should treasure your chance wisely, Messenger of Heaven."
Gabriel could only find the strength to nod, all other energy washed out from him at the moment, due to the painful realization that had settled within him. There was only one way for the Trickster to have such a wound, and that would be only if the Trickster had done it to herself. And there would only be one reason as to why the girl would injure herself to the point where the wound wasn't healing, why she even was in a vessel in the first place-she didn't have the energy to do it. He hated how his mind was already putting things together beyond his control, seeing the points as he recalled what Castiel had told him, back when the angel first examined his Grace.
I had felt traces of some sort of power when I reached into you, but it dissipated as soon as I was close enough to attempt and make out its origin. I’m not sure why it was there, but I think it was keeping you together until I interfered.
There was no mistaking where that power came from now, and who was the being that had brought him back to life.
Gabriel turned to look at Loki, watching the girl bite her lower lip again and tuck her hands into the pockets of her pants, pointedly keeping her gaze away from him while she talked. “I’ve done my part, Crow. Time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”
Crow raised his head and smiled. “Of course.” That said he lifted up a hand and snapped his fingers; at the moment he did that the mist shifted, wind howling in Gabriel’s ears as the mist swirled, condensed itself into a tight ball that floated within the open palm of the boy’s hand. Up in the rafters the crows kept up their silent vigil, the sound of rustling wings being the one sign of their existence within the building.
His gaze set on the Winchesters, the psychopomp spoke. “On March 5, 1861 in Sunrise, Wyoming, a phoenix was shot and killed, leaving nothing but a pile of smouldering ash to be sent flying in the wind.” The ball of mist in his hand pulsed then, and Gabriel felt the tendrils of power now surging from Crow and starting to wrap around the insubstantial thing. “I gathered the ashes from the four corners of the earth with my flock and kept it, and now I pass it onto you.” The power flared, and the mist abruptly burst from his hand in a rush of wind, the force of it causing Gabriel to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes once more there was a small, old and tattered bag sitting in his palm, where the ball of mist once was. Crow was smiling as he shifted his hand, grabbing the bag by its end and holding it out to the two humans. “It should be enough for at least a handful of bullets.” A small quirk of lips, “Use them wisely.”
Dean stared at Crow for a moment before reaching out and swiping the bag into his hand. “You don’t need to tell us that.”
“Perhaps,” Crow replied, voice even and neutral while he lowered his hand back down, red eyes still gleaming mysteriously as he turned back to Loki and inclined his head towards her. “I’ve done my part, Trickster. The rest is in your hands.” He paused, tilting his head to the other side instead and the unsettling smile was back on his face. “Or well, as deep as you’re allowed to put your hands in this.”
“The balance,” Loki returned with a small sigh, still keeping her gaze away from the archangel, but Gabriel could hear the weariness and resignation in her voice. “You don’t need to tell me.”
The smile turned wry, and under the bangs of his unruly black hair the psychopomp blinked his crimson eyes at her, voice dropping to a rasp once more. “Just one little tilt and the balance will shatter. Remember that, Trickster.”
Gabriel watched Loki turn her head away to avoid Crow’s gaze, green eyes fixed on the cracks on the wall instead as she answered. “I know, Crow. I know.”
It took the archangel momentous effort to not simply shove Loki against the nearest wall and demand answers from the moment they returned, hardly caring about the fact that this was the Trickster he was trying to question. Instead Gabriel waited until the three hunters were down in the panic room, busy making the bullets, before he finally had his chance to confront the girl, cornering her before she could turn tail and leave.
“Loki,” he started, voice low and harsh and demanding.
The Trickster, of course, quickly cut him off. “Don’t start, Gabe,” she spoke, and Gabriel didn’t want to see how her shoulders were sagging, to notice the weariness that was in her eyes and on her face, as the Trickster finally dropped the mask she had been putting up for so long. He could sense the shift, feel the change in the atmosphere as Loki dropped the glamour and looked at him with eyes that were far too tired and exhausted and devoid of all the usual cheer that the girl had.
There were so many things that Gabriel could say now to what he saw and what he could figure out in those moments, but all he could do was to clench one fist into the collar of Loki’s jacket and dig his fingers into the fabric, shaking the girl as he breathed out the question in a near whisper. “Why? Why me?”
“Why not?” the Trickster returned as the corners of her lips curled up in a small, wry smile. “I thought you would have liked another shot at living again.”
Gabriel only growled and tightened his hold on the girl. “Why me?” he asked again, the question now coming out in a snarl.
Loki, however, remained unaffected by the archangel’s fierceness, staying placid even as the wry smile stretched further. “Why not you?” she returned evenly, her emerald eyes unblinking.
“You-” he started, trying to find something-anything-to say in response, only falling silent as the Trickster reached up to grab at the wrist closest to her, fingers curling around the joint that attached hand to arm.
The girl kept quiet for a long moment before she spoke. “I wanted you to live, Gabe.”
Gabriel had to blink at that; it was not an answer he had been expecting. “What…?” His fingers slackened out of surprise at the response, loosening his hold on Loki and the girl took advantage of that, prying the archangel’s hand away from her entirely. Gabriel knew he should be annoyed at that, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to do anything about it. His arm flopped back to his side, dangling.
Loki took a moment to straighten herself back up, but her gaze refused to meet Gabriel’s and the girl pointedly glanced away as she explained herself. “During the Apocalypse… you gave up yourself to go against the brother you loved so much, Gabe, and then you died for it. It was… I couldn’t bear the loss.” A pained look crossed her face, lips pursed into a tight little smile as her eyes flickered downwards. “Since the big guy already brought back Castiel before, it was only fair that I got to pick an angel of my own as well to resurrect. Although, I guess bringing back an archangel isn’t exactly the same as bringing back a normal little angel.” It was impossible to ignore the morbid humor that had seeped into her words at the end, and the flash of something that crossed the Trickster’s face.
The archangel in question sucked in a deep breath before he could bring himself to ask for more of the story. “Then, in that other world…”
“I put you there,” the girl admitted without even blinking. “Even after using my own energy, I didn’t have enough power to bring you back into the world entirely. Besides, after Lucifer, I thought you would have liked living a normal life. The other you there wasn’t doing so well, so…” She paused to shrug, a perfectly human gesture. “I just did the best I could in that situation. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. You were alive and well, and that was what I wanted.”
“Did anybody else know what you did?” Gabriel found himself asking, now wondering just how everybody would take the news that the Trickster had brought him back to life with pieces of herself. It was… it wasn’t just something that anyone would do, and Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder just what he had done to deserve something like that. He knew how pathetic he was, how much of a coward he truly was, but despite all of that, she had put him back together at such a high cost. He didn’t deserve this.
Loki shook her head. “Nobody besides the ones who would sense it, I guess,” the wry smile was back on her face again, eyes gleaming in dark amusement. “I had no intention of contacting you, or having you come here. I was actually surprised when you suddenly contacted me again.”
And yeah, Gabriel could now finally place what had been the strange emotion in the girl’s voice when he had contacted her that day, after Balthazar had gotten the things for him and he had performed the ritual. He remembered the momentary wide-eyed look that Loki had given him then, the flash of surprise he had thought to come from the discovery that he was alive. But it wasn’t that-she would have known of his survival as the Trickster, now that he thought about it. She was surprised because he was here, in this world, instead of the one she had brought him to upon his resurrection.
“The remnants of your Grace must have drawn them over,” Loki spoke up, answering the question that was blossoming in Gabriel’s mind. “When Balthazar cast his spell and sent them away from this world, the Winchesters were drawn to the shards of Grace that you still had and landed where you were then; they’re the vessels of Michael and Lucifer, after all.” She sighed then, the ancient weariness settling across her inappropriately young features.
A realization settled in the archangel right there and then, and Gabriel’s eyes widened as he looked at Loki, his lips moving as he breathed out the words in shock. “You’re helping because of me.”
The suddenness of those words made Loki pause for a moment, silent and still and maybe just as surprised as Gabriel himself was-but then soon it passed and the girl suddenly burst into laughter, loud and brilliant and near-hysterical at the same time. Tears clung to the corners of her eyes and for a moment the Trickster truly looked more like the vessel she inhabited now rather than the cruel, callous, frightening god that had been cast down to earth to stay amongst man. Gabriel made a startled sound himself, confused and surprised at the sudden outburst of amusement that came from the Trickster, staying still for fear of risking the false god’s wrath. Finally, when the laughter had subsided and Loki was left heaving against the wall to catch her breath, then did Gabriel take his chances, reaching out for the girl and asking softly, “…Loki?”
And just like that the Trickster’s mask suddenly broke and the heaves became quiet sobs, the girl’s breaths choking as she trembled with the effort of not breaking down. Her lips quivered, and Gabriel watched as she struggled to speak, so overwhelmed with the abrupt strength of her feelings. “You idiot,” she breathed out, voice hitching ever so slightly. “Can’t you see? It’s always been about you.”
Something cold gripped him tight there and then, and Gabriel almost lacked the courage to ask, so hesitant he was in hearing the answer. “What about me?”
The Trickster raised her head so that she could stare at the archangel, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looked at him almost like how a mother would have to her own son. “The big guy isn’t the only one allowed to play favourites,” she replied mirthlessly, her gaze flicking for a moment to elsewhere, as if remembering a memory from a time long past. “From the Beginning, you’ve always been mine.” An almost cruel smile twisted across her lips. “The angel who left Heaven and became a Trickster. You are worth so much more than you can imagine.”
Gabriel tried to say something, to say a hundred witty comebacks and subtle denials in order to deny all this greatness thrust upon him-a greatness he didn’t deserve and didn’t need, not after what he had done-but Loki continued to speak, talking before the archangel could cut him off. “You are kind, Gabriel, kinder than anything I can imagine. You love even more than what Michael or Lucifer or Raphael can ever hope to manage. You love all of them so much that it hurts to stand up against them, but yet you still do it because you care.” Loki’s eyes were quiet but focused, reading Gabriel and his countless layers like a book. “You left and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you pretend not to care until the Winchesters showed you otherwise. And then you hoped, just a little, and that was enough for you do what you needed to do.”
“Stop,” Gabriel managed to get out, his voice weak even to his own ears. He didn’t need to hear all of this, this psychoanalysis from the Trickster of all people. This was what Dean needed, not him. He wasn’t some idiot who gave himself up so readily or would trade his soul in a heartbeat for his little brother. It had always just been about him and the world around him and nothing else other than that. He wasn’t some stupid, self-sacrificing idiot. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t even an angel now.
The girl didn’t stop, and only kept on talking, her voice getting stronger and louder with each word. “You are worth so much more, Gabriel, more than you can imagine. “And that was enough for me to bring you back. You didn’t deserve a death like that, not by Lucifer’s hand.”
But I did deserve it, the archangel instantly thought to himself, but nothing could come out from his throat and Gabriel could only stare at Loki, seeing the Trickster’s eyes gleam weakly as the girl gave him a small but true smile.
“Treasure this, Gabriel,” she spoke, already raising her hand and pressing the tips of her thumb and middle finger together. “I just want you to be happy again.”
“Loki-” Gabriel started to say, but the Trickster had already vanished with a snap of her fingers, leaving nothing but silence behind her.
← eighth act | tenth act →
To Gabriel's immense surprise, it wasn't Dean but Sam who cornered him that night and asked questions.
“Okay, Gabriel,” the human started, both expression and tone suggesting that he was in no mood for any bullshit. “What really happened?”
Gabriel, of course, was never one to pay heed to anybody's warning, least of all Sam's (even as bad of a move as it was). The archangel put on his most innocent face, looking back at the other as he returned the words with a “What?”
“Gabriel,” Sam started again, his tone much more insistent.
The archangel sighed. “It's nothing that you need to be concerned about, Sammy. It's already been dealt with.”
“And Cas?”
Funny how such a simple question could also be needlessly complex at the same time. Gabriel pointedly ignored the momentary lapse of his own body, how his blood froze for a moment and how his chest constricted, forcing his heart up his throat. Quickly composing himself again, Gabriel swallowed down the lump before he replied. “What about him?”
He was certain that Sam had noticed the lapse, but for some reason he didn't point it out and after a moment's pause, spoke again. “He's... well, you're helping him.” He paused, giving Gabriel a look before adding on. “Right?”
Depends on what you define as help, the archangel thought to himself. “What's with the sudden questioning, Gigantor? Can't you ask him yourself, or are you that much of a girl?”
A guilty look passed Sam's face at the words, but he quickly covered it up with a scowl. “Shut up, Gabriel. Just answer me.”
“Well, I am his brother,” Gabriel made a small shrug. “And he's helping me. Only right that I repay the favor.”
Upon hearing the answer Sam instantly sagged, a sigh escaping him. “That's... good. That's good.” He took a step back from the archangel, nodding. “I'm glad to hear that.”
Seriously, was Gabriel missing something here? He raised his eyebrows, casting a questioning look towards the younger Winchester. “Sam, is something wrong?” Sure, he knew some things about Castiel that the Winchesters most likely didn't, but the fact stood that he had skipped out of heaven for countless years. Fundamentally, he could still be the same little nerdy angel, but things always had a way of changing, especially considering the recent years. Just about anything could happen.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing, really,” he replied, and Gabriel could hear the honesty in his voice and sense that Sam wasn't lying. “It's just... it’s nice to see somebody else other than Balthazar helping him out. It's been hard on him, you know?”
Gabriel snorted. “Well, it would help if you and Dean-o tried to understand him a little better. You all haven't been really chummy with each other, I noticed.”
“Yeah, well,” Sam shifted uneasily, guilt flashing across his face again. “It's just been hard on us all.”
“That isn't a reason for you idiots to continue playing Cold War with Cas,” the archangel found himself snapping out before he could help it, scowling fiercely. Thinking about how Castiel was putting himself up against Raphael, remembering how he worked with Crowley of all people and just-he couldn't bear to think about it, not after what had happened earlier today. “What he needs is support, and none of you are giving that to him.”
Sam blinked at the sudden outburst, just as surprised as Gabriel himself was at his own lack of control. The archangel instantly fell quiet, flinching when the human took a step closer again and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture of assurance. “That's why it’s a good thing that you're here,” he said, a small smile touching his lips. “You're his brother after all. Family means everything.”
“The classic Winchester creed,” Gabriel returned in a mutter, knowing just how true that held for him now.
Sam's smile widened ever so slightly at the words, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Well, I guess that just means you're part of the family now.”
It was just Loki going along with them this time, since there were matters back in Heaven that Castiel needed to attend to, and considering how things were going at the moment, Gabriel knew that it was important that Cas go and settle them. Still, he couldn’t help but be worried about the lesser angel-with the angel's arrangement with Crowley now broken, only Father knew how he was going to be able to win against Raphael. The pagan gods did promise their help, but… Gabriel knew he had to be realistic here; there was no way that the gods would ever be capable of overpowering the angels entirely. The Trickster was most likely the only one with enough juice to turn the tides in their favour, but she had a no interference clause slapped on her (as the girl constantly pointed out to all of them). Dean might bitch all day about it, but the bottom line was that she could not help, and Gabriel knew that she was already doing everything within her capacity.
Still, he certainly hadn’t expected her to actually turn to Jack Crow of all people to aid them; Crow was nothing but an enigma to the gods, almost an alien to Loki herself. Like Gabriel he, too, fell under the Trickster’s law and thus couldn’t refute the Trickster’s command, but even Loki had admitted before that Crow was one of her harder subjects to understand. He had never made trouble, not really, but… well, ‘eccentric’ would be one way to describe him. Gabriel had only ever met him a few times under the mantle of Loki, but even then the other god had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t really describe.
Discomfort was written all over Loki’s face when she lowered her hand, having snapped all of them to their destination. The sun beat down heavily upon them, and Gabriel was already finding himself starting to sweat profusely; around them were nothing but dark-skinned people hustling along the streets, and some of them turned to pause at the abrupt appearance of four very light-skinned people.
Sam frowned, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Where are we?”
Loki made another face, and Gabriel could sense the other’s pure irritation at the location they were in. “Congo,” was her eventual response.
The one-word answer instantly caused Dean to jerk his head towards the girl, eyes wide as he echoed a bit too loudly for the archangel’s tastes. “We’re in the freaking Congo?”
The Trickster’s expression darkened at the words, although it wasn't directed at Dean. “Should’ve known he’d pick a location like this.” She muttered before snapping her fingers again, and now Gabriel found himself swiftly cooled down, the sun no longer affecting him like before. Sam and Dean received the same treatment, judging from the surprised looks on their faces; before they could say anything however, Loki was already starting to move, pushing through the crowd as she muttered under her breath in a language nobody could make out, not even Gabriel.
Deciding to pick up the cue, Gabriel turned around and gestured for the Winchesters to follow him as he went after Loki, working his way through the crowd as well, and trying to ignore the many stares he was getting as they moved along.
“What kind of asshole picks a place like this to set up shop for whatever the hell he's doing?” the archangel heard Dean muttering behind him, the words more likely directed towards Sam rather than him.
Sam frowned. “Somebody who doesn’t want to set up shop, I suppose.”
Gabriel decided to be nice for once and fill in the details for them. “Or somebody who likes a place with a lot of dying people.”
Dean blinked at the answer, clearly not getting it, but Sam on the other hand frowned even deeper and Gabriel could almost hear the gears starting to clink around in that giant head of his. “Conflict materials,” Sam stated, although that didn’t really help in lessening Dean’s confusion over the entire issue, as evidenced by the deepening frown.
“That’s just one of the things, Gigantor,” Gabriel returned with a small, wry smile. “But let’s not go into the grisly details. Bottom line is that a lot of people die here, and that makes Crow a happy guy since it makes his job easier.” He paused for a moment, speaking up again before Dean could ask the budding question. “You remember what Loki said yesterday?”
Sam nodded, and quoted the words that Loki had told them. “Where everybody’s from and nobody goes, that’s where you’re gonna find Jack’s crows.” The younger human blinked and inclined his head. “What does it mean, anyway?”
“It means what it means, Sam,” the archangel replied, politely easing through the crowd still (with some aid of his still-recovering powers). “Crow’s… well, Crow’s kind of in a unique position. Technically he falls under the Trickster’s law, but he’s also more than that. You guys know about psychopomps, right?”
Dean let out a snort at the question. “Considering that we’ve all died at some point or another already, yeah, I think we know them well enough by now.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Dean-o. Point is, Crow-he’s something of a psychopomp himself. ‘Where everybody comes from and nobody goes’, I quote.”
“So… what?” Sam, asking with a rather skeptical look on his face. “Does he bring souls to Heaven or Hell or something?”
“Not exactly.” Now Gabriel had an inkling of why Loki wasn’t so keen on going to see Crow, considering the situation. “You know that old folktale about storks bringing babies overnight? It’s something like that, only with souls rather than magically appearing kids.” The blinks from both Winchesters signalled Gabriel that he had effectively lost them there. The archangel sighed and rebooted his explanation. “Well, you know how angels are made-we’re built with nothing but Grace, and through the Host we’re sustained. Demons are just humans with their humanity torn out of ‘em. The pagan gods are built on the beliefs and thoughts of the people who worship them. Point is, each and every being always has a point of origin.” He paused for a moment, letting the brothers take it all in properly before he went on. “Humans, though-human souls are special. I mean, heck, almost everything supernatural is all built on the power of human souls, as you might have noticed. Ghosts, demons, wendigos, werewolves, vampires; they all come from the human soul in some shape or form.”
Gabriel could tell that Dean was completely lost already (not that the guy was ever one for brains anyway) but Sam was getting it pretty quickly, nodding cautiously to the archangel’s words. “So, the human souls…”
“They’ve got to come from somewhere, right?” Gabriel pointed out, looking at both Sam and Dean. “I mean, Dad isn’t around after all, but humans are still being born every second; sure, there’s reincarnation, but not every soul’s doing that. There are still souls being born even as we speak.”
“So the place they’re born-” Sam started, but Gabriel quickly cut him off.
“You forgot the quote, Gigantor. ‘Where’s everybody’s from and nobody goes’. They meant it literally. Not even I know where the human souls come from.” The archangel let out a small huff of breath and turned around, seeing the end of the crowd they’d been working through. “But basically Crow and the guys with him are in charge of carrying those souls to the people assigned to receive them. It’s a job nobody wants to mess with.” And now with the end of the world averted, Gabriel can only wonder how the guy was even working now. Was he still doing the same old things, or did anything change since the almost-Apocalypse? He supposed he would find out the answer to that soon enough.
“I still don’t get how this links to the dude being in a shitty place like this,” Dean spoke up, scowling.
Gabriel rolled his eyes again. “The cycle, Dean-o. Where there’s creation there’ll also be destruction,” He gestured towards their surroundings, “And where else to be in the hotspot for destruction but here? Death happens just about every second in this place. Crow is more than just a name, Dean. It’s who he literally is.”
Right after he said that there was the screeching cry of a crow, and the three of them raised their heads to see one flying past them, its jet-black feathers a stark contrast to the pale blue skies. It was an eerie sight in its own right, and trying to ignore the small chill that ran down his spine after that was next to impossible to accomplish. Gabriel made it a point to quickly look back down, going through the last of the crowd so that he could break out of the people, and into the outskirts of the town they were in. Loki was waiting for the three of them when they emerged out into the open, a small smile on her face.
“Now that we’re all on the same page,” she went, the smile only growing wider before the girl turned around to face one of the tumbled down buildings standing nearby, “Be sure to keep your pants on. We’re going in.”
The icy chillness of the inside was a stark contrast to the blistering heat they had been in just moments earlier. It wasn’t any natural draft that Gabriel knew of-he felt a shiver rippling through his body, his Grace doing nothing to block out the cold and frost as it went all the way into his bones and his Grace. Beside him Dean and Sam hardly looked any better and even Loki didn’t look too comfortable with the rapid shift in temperature.
Dean was the one who put two and two together, outright scowling as he hissed out through a wisp of smoke. “Fucking Hell.”
Who knew that Hell actually wasn’t all about the fire and brimstone it was cracked up to be? Gabriel certainly had no idea, and neither did Sam from the confused look on his face-although Dean was a different matter entirely judging from the dark look on his face. Still, it looked like the memories of Hell weren’t coming back to the younger Winchester, which the archangel supposed was a good thing. Considering how he had been locked in with Michael and Lucifer, Gabriel didn't even want to think about the things that his brothers might have done to Sam, what with the aversion of the Apocalypse and all that.
There was minimal light shining inside the building, making it hard to see (the mist lurking around their surroundings wasn’t helping with things either), and Gabriel had to squint as he trailed behind Loki, the Trickster cautiously making her way through pieces of half-rotten wood, as brittle bones crunched under her feet. Around them were crows of every shape and size and species, hanging from every available space and Gabriel could feel each and every one of their eyes watching them in silence. It was a starling contrast to the constant cawing humans knew them so much better for, and if he had to be honest the silence unsettled Gabriel badly. It was just… too unnatural, even for him.
The Winchesters seemed to have the same idea too, wary eyes darting across the room as they kept their gazes on the crows. Loki continued forward, leading the two humans and one archangel towards their destination in the inappropriately-sized house-Gabriel was pretty certain that the house looked way smaller on the outside.
“Are we there yet?” he heard Dean hiss out behind him, not even bothering to hide his irritation at the moment. Not that anybody could blame him, what with the unearthly cold and all.
“Almost,” was Loki’s returning mutter much to the trio’s surprise, but there was no time to dwell on said surprise as the Trickster quickened her pace, and they hurried to follow behind her. The litter of rotten wood and fragile bones lessened with each step they took now, and the mist cleared up as well. Gabriel found himself no longer breathing out steam through his nose, when they arrived at a space cleared of all the debris they had been trampling on, blinking as he stared at the shadowed figure hunched on a rickety old stool. The Trickster swung out an arm in the universal gesture for the three to stand back, before stepping closer to the figure, clearing her throat.
There was a moment’s pause before she spoke, her voice clear and sharp. “Jack Crow.”
At first, there was no response, the silence stretching on with nothing but the sound of their breathing filling in the quiet. At the corner of his eye Gabriel could see Dean’s short-temper growing thin, and the man was just about to open his mouth when the figure shifted without warning, the rustling of cloth breaking the stillness of the moment when tattered coattails flopped down behind. The archangel could hear bones popping in their joints-as if stiff from disuse-as bare feet planted themselves onto the ground, tones curling against the dirt. The tarnished gleam of old war medals winked and clinked quietly from above the breast pocket of the old military coat the god was wearing as Jack Crow straightened himself on the stool, although his head was still lowered.
Loki only watched impassively as the shadows gave way to the figure, only speaking up a few beats after silence fell in the room again. “Jack Crow,” she repeated, the sharp tone returning. It was pretty clear in just what capacity the girl was speaking under-not Loki the Norse god, but rather the god cast down to Earth, the Trickster herself.
A longer silence passed, and Loki seemed to be about to speak again when the head of the psychopomp shifted and the figure spoke; his voice a quiet, hollow rasp. “One, two, the Trickster’s coming for you.”
Gabriel and the Winchesters paused at the strangeness of his words, not at all certain what to make of it, but Loki only closed her eyes and let out a loud breath before speaking. “Three, four, better lock the door.”
Jack Crow’s head inclined, and the amusement bled into his next words. “Five and six, grab a crucifix.”
“Seven for the brace of an oncoming storm.” Maybe it was just him, but he was certain he could hear a hard edge creeping into the tone of Loki’s voice. It was hard to make out.
“Eight for salvation and nine of redemption.” The figure of Jack Crow shifted, and he tilted his head just enough again for Gabriel to make out the faint outline of a fedora hat over his head, the jet-black of the material having blended almost perfectly with the dim lighting of the place.
Loki sighed once more. “And ten for the deliverance of all,” she finished, and then a weak smile graced her features. “Had enough fun yet, Jack?”
Jack Crow raised his head now, unruly bangs doing little to conceal the unearthly glow of crimson red eyes that gleamed with the disconcerting colour of freshly-spilled blood. He looked disarmingly young, with the features of a boy who looked as if he hadn’t even gone through puberty yet. It was a stark contrast to the wry, all-knowing smile that crossed his features as his eyes flickered across all four of them, before they finally settled upon Loki. “Trickster,” he rasped once more, the smile growing wider as the eyes properly studied her now. “You looked better with pink hair, I think.”
“Green’s the new in,” the Trickster replied easily, the small smile still fixed on her face.
The smile on Jack Crow’s face, however, only grew wider. “It’ll look better when there’s blood streaked in it. I’m still looking forward to Pompeii version two.”
Both brothers’ eyes were as wide as saucers now, and it would honestly have been amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that this was Pompeii that was being talked about. Gabriel knew about Pompeii, alright-he had been there when it happened, after all.
The Trickster merely shrugged, a sheepish expression replacing the smile. “Not one of my better moments, I’ll admit.”
Crow made a small snort. “I liked it better when you didn’t care about the world,” he muttered, the hoarseness of his voice adding a distinct otherworldly quality to his words. “I suppose it’s to be expected though. Things always change.” He flicked his gaze at the girl again, adding quietly. “Even gods.”
An uncomfortable look crossed Loki's face-Gabriel raised an eyebrow at that, but he knew how unsettling Jack Crow could be, so he didn't say anything-but the girl quickly shook it off, going back to the topic at hand. “I didn’t come here to reminisce about the past, Crow,” the girl started as she turned her gaze back to the rumpled, almost frail-looking figure who was in reality so much more than he looked. “You know what I’m here for.”
The boy dipped his head, eyes gleaming once more. “Phoenixes,” he replied easily, and then the smile was back in full force. “I’ll be glad to hold one again when the time comes. They’re so rare, even to me.” His eyes flickered upwards to the roof and back down again. “Constantly reincarnating for years and years until time collapses upon them. It’s always such a delight to see that happen.”
Sam took a step forward then. “Until time collapses upon them?” he asked with a frown. Gabriel almost felt like smacking the giant idiot. There were just some things that Sam needed to shut up about, even with his eternal curiosity about things.
Still if anything the boy only seemed amused, and his crimson eyes sparkled in barely-disguised amusement. “Immortality is only a concept, Sam Winchester, and nothing more. Eternity died the moment Heaven lied, and Heaven lied from the moment it existed. Nothing really lives forever.”
“Death lives forever,” Dean blurted out, and Gabriel wondered if he could smack both of them. Father, did those two have a constant death wish or something? One did not just talk back to Jack Crow like this, not unless they both were willing to give up their lives again.
Crow turned his eyes towards Dean now, and it was impossible not to miss the bright twinkle in his eyes, as the boy broke into a brilliant smile that nearly split his face into two. “The Righteous Man,” he breathed out, voice filled with some parts of awe and quiet mirth. He lowered his head, the brim of his fedora obscuring his eyes as the psychopomp studied the human for a long moment before speaking up. “Over thirty years since I last carried your soul out from the Void, and still it shines as brightly as the day I just plucked it out from the roost.” He raised his head back up, the smile from earlier now shifting into something much darker. “I wonder if it’ll still shine as brightly when I take it back once your time comes.”
Dean shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by the words, but still put on a false bravado and replied. “Nobody’s going to be plucking my soul out anytime soon, bird brain.”
The smile Dean got in response was clearly placating. “For now.”
Gabriel decided to cut in before things could get any worse. “Crow.”
And now the red eyes were onto him, the intensity and unnaturalness of it making him uncomfortable. “Loki,” the boy murmured, inclining his head as he blinked. “Or would you be more comfortable with Gabriel again?”
“I’m taking up the position of Loki for the moment,” the Trickster supplied helpfully, filling in the crushing silence Gabriel felt after the question.
“I see,” Crow returned simply, never tearing his gaze away from Gabriel, who only shifted just a little bit awkwardly under the steadiness of those eyes. The archangel felt oddly naked under the other’s gaze, as if the other was seeing right into him and wordlessly picking him apart. It was not a very nice feeling to experience, considering the fact that it was usually him who was doing the picking apart bit of things.
Sam was the one who broke past the odd tenseness of the moment, clearing his throat as he spoke up to get the god’s attention. “So, err-phoenix ashes.”
Crow held his gaze on Gabriel for just a moment more before he turned to regard the younger Winchester, head inclined once more. “I do not just give things lightly, Sam Winchester,” he spoke, one eyebrow raised.
The statement caused everyone to frown while Dean muttered a vaguely-appropriate ‘fucking gods’ under his breath, earning the flash of another amused smile from Crow before the psychopomp explained. “All is equal in the eyes of death; I will be willing to give if I receive something of equal value.” He swept his crimson eyes across the four, the smile reappearing on his face when it came to Dean and he spoke up abruptly. “Souls hold no value to me, Righteous Man, so you need not worry. I will not take any from you.”
Dean made a start, clearly surprised at the words and Gabriel didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what Dean had been thinking. It was mildly insulting, thinking that all deals only ever involved souls. As much as they were not angels or monsters, pagan gods were also most certainly not demons, thank you very much. Still, he suppressed the snort threatening to come out of him as Crow turned away from the elder human to lay his gaze properly on Loki, smile widening. “Trickster,” he rasped again, and Gabriel wasn’t sure if he liked the mirth lacing the edges of the other’s voice. It was... worrying.
Loki’s own sudden desire to stare down and shuffle her feet, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, wasn’t making things any easier either. “What?” she replied, only after a few moments had passed. The other three all turned to look at her with a fair amount of uncertainty.
Crow’s unsettling smile only grew wider. “Show me.”
The girl turned her head away-a gesture that only made Gabriel worry even more. Since when did the Trickster feel shame? “Do I have to?” she asked, and it was impossible not to hear the quiet deflection that she tried to put in there.
“There is nothing else I see of worth at this moment,” the psychopomp answered, cloth rustling in the background as he settled himself properly on the stool he was on. “The wound of a god, Trickster. I wish to see it only and nothing more.”
Gabriel only barely caught the brothers’ mouthing of ‘wound of a god?’ to each other; the archangel himself frowned, trying to figure out just what was Crow going on about. ‘Wound of a god’? Was there something that Loki-the Trickster-had that Crow wanted to see that much? More and more, Gabriel felt the uneasiness within him increasing. What was going on here?
Loki let out a loud breath through her nose before speaking. “Just a look?”
“Nothing more,” Crow replied. “I promise.”
“Loki-” Gabriel found himself starting to speak, finding himself trying to stop whatever it was that the Trickster was trying to do. He had known the other for years on end, had been with her for so long while she roamed the Earth as the nameless god. It was just wrong now to see her brought to this, to see her coming to deals and exchanges in order to make things work. She was much more than that, Gabriel knew without a doubt. If only he wasn’t so useless.
“Don’t start blaming yourself, Gabe,” Loki went, the clarity of her voice cutting through Gabriel’s thoughts, and the archangel directed his gaze to look at the other’s clear emerald eyes. “I made this decision. None of this is your fault.”
Gabriel opened his mouth again in a bid to respond, but he felt a hand on his shoulder holding him back, and the archangel turned to see Sam now standing behind him, shaking his head silently. The uneasiness rose and Gabriel bit down on his bottom lip, turning back towards Loki who was reaching down for the ends of her shirt, fingers curling almost hesitantly over the hem. The Trickster stilled, looking up again to sweep her eyes across the room before landing her gaze back to Crow.
“Just a look,” the god assured, smile never leaving his face.
Loki sighed and closed her eyes, tightening her hold on the hem for a moment longer before she pulled it up, and the sight that greeted Gabriel was an unexpected one.
Across her belly, up her bellybutton and then beyond was a thick, ugly scar. The skin had healed messily, a giant keloid marking where the scar was. It started just a bit above her bellybutton, cutting at the side of it before going down to disappear beneath the hem of her jeans. Considering everything Gabriel had seen in his existence, the scar by itself was nothing terrifying-it was normal looking by all means-but seeing it on the Trickster was a jarring image. She was supposed to be flawless, untouched by man and everything in existence even when she was chained to the world; but yet here she was now, standing before them all sporting such a large scar that should never even be there in the first place.
Gabriel was just as shocked as the Winchesters were and it showed on their faces as Crow's smile widened, leaning forward on his rickety stool. It creaked as the boy wavered forward, leaning ever closer so that he could study the scar in detail.
"The wound of a god," Crow breathed out in an almost reverent tone, eyes sweeping down the scar.
Loki shifted uneasily; clearly not comfortable with the situation and at how she was being looked at by the other god. "You done looking?" she asked gruffly, emerald eyes flickering everywhere and never resting for even a moment. It was a strange gesture of discomfort, but one that Gabriel could see all the same. The discomfort confused the archangel however; there was no reason why the Trickster would be so uncomfortable. A scar was merely nothing but a scar after all, although its existence was worrisome enough. What could have been so powerful that it was able to injure Loki like that? There was hardly anything in existence that was stronger than the Trickster-
Gabriel froze, blood turning as cold as ice when realization clicked in his mind. There was hardly any being in this universe that had the power to scar the Trickster like that, not unless… Gabriel jerked his head up to look at Loki's apologetic look, the Trickster already having figured out what the archangel would realize as she made a tiny nod and dropped the hem of her shirt back down. Gabriel closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, attempting to keep himself together under Sam's worried gaze and Dean's own scowl while Crow rocked back on the stool and let his smile widen.
"A sight that I'll make sure not to forget," the boy spoke, amusement gleaming in his crimson eyes while he laid his gaze on Gabriel once more, and the next words he spoke struck the archangel more than anything else ever had. "You should treasure your chance wisely, Messenger of Heaven."
Gabriel could only find the strength to nod, all other energy washed out from him at the moment, due to the painful realization that had settled within him. There was only one way for the Trickster to have such a wound, and that would be only if the Trickster had done it to herself. And there would only be one reason as to why the girl would injure herself to the point where the wound wasn't healing, why she even was in a vessel in the first place-she didn't have the energy to do it. He hated how his mind was already putting things together beyond his control, seeing the points as he recalled what Castiel had told him, back when the angel first examined his Grace.
I had felt traces of some sort of power when I reached into you, but it dissipated as soon as I was close enough to attempt and make out its origin. I’m not sure why it was there, but I think it was keeping you together until I interfered.
There was no mistaking where that power came from now, and who was the being that had brought him back to life.
Gabriel turned to look at Loki, watching the girl bite her lower lip again and tuck her hands into the pockets of her pants, pointedly keeping her gaze away from him while she talked. “I’ve done my part, Crow. Time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”
Crow raised his head and smiled. “Of course.” That said he lifted up a hand and snapped his fingers; at the moment he did that the mist shifted, wind howling in Gabriel’s ears as the mist swirled, condensed itself into a tight ball that floated within the open palm of the boy’s hand. Up in the rafters the crows kept up their silent vigil, the sound of rustling wings being the one sign of their existence within the building.
His gaze set on the Winchesters, the psychopomp spoke. “On March 5, 1861 in Sunrise, Wyoming, a phoenix was shot and killed, leaving nothing but a pile of smouldering ash to be sent flying in the wind.” The ball of mist in his hand pulsed then, and Gabriel felt the tendrils of power now surging from Crow and starting to wrap around the insubstantial thing. “I gathered the ashes from the four corners of the earth with my flock and kept it, and now I pass it onto you.” The power flared, and the mist abruptly burst from his hand in a rush of wind, the force of it causing Gabriel to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes once more there was a small, old and tattered bag sitting in his palm, where the ball of mist once was. Crow was smiling as he shifted his hand, grabbing the bag by its end and holding it out to the two humans. “It should be enough for at least a handful of bullets.” A small quirk of lips, “Use them wisely.”
Dean stared at Crow for a moment before reaching out and swiping the bag into his hand. “You don’t need to tell us that.”
“Perhaps,” Crow replied, voice even and neutral while he lowered his hand back down, red eyes still gleaming mysteriously as he turned back to Loki and inclined his head towards her. “I’ve done my part, Trickster. The rest is in your hands.” He paused, tilting his head to the other side instead and the unsettling smile was back on his face. “Or well, as deep as you’re allowed to put your hands in this.”
“The balance,” Loki returned with a small sigh, still keeping her gaze away from the archangel, but Gabriel could hear the weariness and resignation in her voice. “You don’t need to tell me.”
The smile turned wry, and under the bangs of his unruly black hair the psychopomp blinked his crimson eyes at her, voice dropping to a rasp once more. “Just one little tilt and the balance will shatter. Remember that, Trickster.”
Gabriel watched Loki turn her head away to avoid Crow’s gaze, green eyes fixed on the cracks on the wall instead as she answered. “I know, Crow. I know.”
It took the archangel momentous effort to not simply shove Loki against the nearest wall and demand answers from the moment they returned, hardly caring about the fact that this was the Trickster he was trying to question. Instead Gabriel waited until the three hunters were down in the panic room, busy making the bullets, before he finally had his chance to confront the girl, cornering her before she could turn tail and leave.
“Loki,” he started, voice low and harsh and demanding.
The Trickster, of course, quickly cut him off. “Don’t start, Gabe,” she spoke, and Gabriel didn’t want to see how her shoulders were sagging, to notice the weariness that was in her eyes and on her face, as the Trickster finally dropped the mask she had been putting up for so long. He could sense the shift, feel the change in the atmosphere as Loki dropped the glamour and looked at him with eyes that were far too tired and exhausted and devoid of all the usual cheer that the girl had.
There were so many things that Gabriel could say now to what he saw and what he could figure out in those moments, but all he could do was to clench one fist into the collar of Loki’s jacket and dig his fingers into the fabric, shaking the girl as he breathed out the question in a near whisper. “Why? Why me?”
“Why not?” the Trickster returned as the corners of her lips curled up in a small, wry smile. “I thought you would have liked another shot at living again.”
Gabriel only growled and tightened his hold on the girl. “Why me?” he asked again, the question now coming out in a snarl.
Loki, however, remained unaffected by the archangel’s fierceness, staying placid even as the wry smile stretched further. “Why not you?” she returned evenly, her emerald eyes unblinking.
“You-” he started, trying to find something-anything-to say in response, only falling silent as the Trickster reached up to grab at the wrist closest to her, fingers curling around the joint that attached hand to arm.
The girl kept quiet for a long moment before she spoke. “I wanted you to live, Gabe.”
Gabriel had to blink at that; it was not an answer he had been expecting. “What…?” His fingers slackened out of surprise at the response, loosening his hold on Loki and the girl took advantage of that, prying the archangel’s hand away from her entirely. Gabriel knew he should be annoyed at that, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to do anything about it. His arm flopped back to his side, dangling.
Loki took a moment to straighten herself back up, but her gaze refused to meet Gabriel’s and the girl pointedly glanced away as she explained herself. “During the Apocalypse… you gave up yourself to go against the brother you loved so much, Gabe, and then you died for it. It was… I couldn’t bear the loss.” A pained look crossed her face, lips pursed into a tight little smile as her eyes flickered downwards. “Since the big guy already brought back Castiel before, it was only fair that I got to pick an angel of my own as well to resurrect. Although, I guess bringing back an archangel isn’t exactly the same as bringing back a normal little angel.” It was impossible to ignore the morbid humor that had seeped into her words at the end, and the flash of something that crossed the Trickster’s face.
The archangel in question sucked in a deep breath before he could bring himself to ask for more of the story. “Then, in that other world…”
“I put you there,” the girl admitted without even blinking. “Even after using my own energy, I didn’t have enough power to bring you back into the world entirely. Besides, after Lucifer, I thought you would have liked living a normal life. The other you there wasn’t doing so well, so…” She paused to shrug, a perfectly human gesture. “I just did the best I could in that situation. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. You were alive and well, and that was what I wanted.”
“Did anybody else know what you did?” Gabriel found himself asking, now wondering just how everybody would take the news that the Trickster had brought him back to life with pieces of herself. It was… it wasn’t just something that anyone would do, and Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder just what he had done to deserve something like that. He knew how pathetic he was, how much of a coward he truly was, but despite all of that, she had put him back together at such a high cost. He didn’t deserve this.
Loki shook her head. “Nobody besides the ones who would sense it, I guess,” the wry smile was back on her face again, eyes gleaming in dark amusement. “I had no intention of contacting you, or having you come here. I was actually surprised when you suddenly contacted me again.”
And yeah, Gabriel could now finally place what had been the strange emotion in the girl’s voice when he had contacted her that day, after Balthazar had gotten the things for him and he had performed the ritual. He remembered the momentary wide-eyed look that Loki had given him then, the flash of surprise he had thought to come from the discovery that he was alive. But it wasn’t that-she would have known of his survival as the Trickster, now that he thought about it. She was surprised because he was here, in this world, instead of the one she had brought him to upon his resurrection.
“The remnants of your Grace must have drawn them over,” Loki spoke up, answering the question that was blossoming in Gabriel’s mind. “When Balthazar cast his spell and sent them away from this world, the Winchesters were drawn to the shards of Grace that you still had and landed where you were then; they’re the vessels of Michael and Lucifer, after all.” She sighed then, the ancient weariness settling across her inappropriately young features.
A realization settled in the archangel right there and then, and Gabriel’s eyes widened as he looked at Loki, his lips moving as he breathed out the words in shock. “You’re helping because of me.”
The suddenness of those words made Loki pause for a moment, silent and still and maybe just as surprised as Gabriel himself was-but then soon it passed and the girl suddenly burst into laughter, loud and brilliant and near-hysterical at the same time. Tears clung to the corners of her eyes and for a moment the Trickster truly looked more like the vessel she inhabited now rather than the cruel, callous, frightening god that had been cast down to earth to stay amongst man. Gabriel made a startled sound himself, confused and surprised at the sudden outburst of amusement that came from the Trickster, staying still for fear of risking the false god’s wrath. Finally, when the laughter had subsided and Loki was left heaving against the wall to catch her breath, then did Gabriel take his chances, reaching out for the girl and asking softly, “…Loki?”
And just like that the Trickster’s mask suddenly broke and the heaves became quiet sobs, the girl’s breaths choking as she trembled with the effort of not breaking down. Her lips quivered, and Gabriel watched as she struggled to speak, so overwhelmed with the abrupt strength of her feelings. “You idiot,” she breathed out, voice hitching ever so slightly. “Can’t you see? It’s always been about you.”
Something cold gripped him tight there and then, and Gabriel almost lacked the courage to ask, so hesitant he was in hearing the answer. “What about me?”
The Trickster raised her head so that she could stare at the archangel, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looked at him almost like how a mother would have to her own son. “The big guy isn’t the only one allowed to play favourites,” she replied mirthlessly, her gaze flicking for a moment to elsewhere, as if remembering a memory from a time long past. “From the Beginning, you’ve always been mine.” An almost cruel smile twisted across her lips. “The angel who left Heaven and became a Trickster. You are worth so much more than you can imagine.”
Gabriel tried to say something, to say a hundred witty comebacks and subtle denials in order to deny all this greatness thrust upon him-a greatness he didn’t deserve and didn’t need, not after what he had done-but Loki continued to speak, talking before the archangel could cut him off. “You are kind, Gabriel, kinder than anything I can imagine. You love even more than what Michael or Lucifer or Raphael can ever hope to manage. You love all of them so much that it hurts to stand up against them, but yet you still do it because you care.” Loki’s eyes were quiet but focused, reading Gabriel and his countless layers like a book. “You left and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you pretend not to care until the Winchesters showed you otherwise. And then you hoped, just a little, and that was enough for you do what you needed to do.”
“Stop,” Gabriel managed to get out, his voice weak even to his own ears. He didn’t need to hear all of this, this psychoanalysis from the Trickster of all people. This was what Dean needed, not him. He wasn’t some idiot who gave himself up so readily or would trade his soul in a heartbeat for his little brother. It had always just been about him and the world around him and nothing else other than that. He wasn’t some stupid, self-sacrificing idiot. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t even an angel now.
The girl didn’t stop, and only kept on talking, her voice getting stronger and louder with each word. “You are worth so much more, Gabriel, more than you can imagine. “And that was enough for me to bring you back. You didn’t deserve a death like that, not by Lucifer’s hand.”
But I did deserve it, the archangel instantly thought to himself, but nothing could come out from his throat and Gabriel could only stare at Loki, seeing the Trickster’s eyes gleam weakly as the girl gave him a small but true smile.
“Treasure this, Gabriel,” she spoke, already raising her hand and pressing the tips of her thumb and middle finger together. “I just want you to be happy again.”
“Loki-” Gabriel started to say, but the Trickster had already vanished with a snap of her fingers, leaving nothing but silence behind her.
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