Ficlets
Alone
(Sam/Gabriel/Lucifer, PG)
Sam wakes up alone.
It takes him a moment to realize that, though, because his lovers had a tendency to leave lingering warmth in their spots for long after they'd left. Side benefit of being angels, Sam supposed.
However, the fact that he's not cold doesn't excuse the fact that he's alone.
So, he goes angel-hunting.
He quickly ascertains that they're not upstairs (bedroom, master bathroom, hall bathroom, guest room, office, closet) and makes no secret about heading downstairs in his search.
The living room is empty, as is the kitchen, dining room, workout room, laundry room and bathroom. The garage holds the car and lots of boxes, but no angels.
He'd been slightly irritated before. Now he's working up a slow burning anger.
After all, this wasn't the first time this had happened and he'd been sure that he'd made it very clear that he really, really didn't like it. That lesson obviously hadn't sunk in very well.
A quick call confirms that they're not over at Dean's; not that he'd expected them to be there, but he wanted to cover all the bases. Neither are they at Bobby's, Ellen's, or Chuck's.
After a moment of quiet deliberation, he goes upstairs and packs up enough clothes and necessities for a week. He puts the duffel by the front door, then goes into the kitchen.
Sam pours himself a tall glass of orange juice (pulp free) and sits at the kitchen table, content to stew in his anger and frustration until his wayward lovers decide to return.
He doesn't have long to wait.
Gabriel and Lucifer come in through the back door, in the living room and in full sight of the kitchen table. They're laughing and grinning at each other about something, at ease with each other after several years of constant companionship.
Lucifer's the first to see Sam at the table, the humor draining from his face in an instant. Gabriel takes a moment longer, but quickly realizes that his brother isn't laughing anymore and follows his gaze.
"Sam," he says and he would have said more, but Sam's standing and stalking closer and he wisely shuts his mouth.
"You," Sam snarls, looking from one archangel to the other, "are not allowed to leave me to wake up alone. I thought maybe you'd gotten the message the last time this happened, but you obviously need a reminder. I do not like waking up alone unnecessarily. In fact, I hate it. And right now, I'm pretty sure I hate you two, as well. I'm going to Bobby's. See you in a week. Don't come after me."
He ignores their attempts to make his stay, grabs the bag and is out the door in a matter of minutes. He has to wake up alone? Fine. Let them feel what it's like to wake up and know that something important is missing and might not come back this time.
Reach
(Lucifer/Castiel, Dean/Castiel, PG)
Gold bright grace reaches out and he can't help but reach back, strain for a last memory of what had been before it was no more. And the Morningstar asks, pleads, /wait for me/ and he can't quite speak past the sorrow that he's never felt before, but he shoves the images after the falling angel. /yes, yes i will/
[Millennia later]
Lucifer can't stand it. He can't stand reaching out, finding his true vessel's mind, only to find it rife with memories of /them/. The images burn into his own mind and he can't get rid of them. Watching them laugh and talk and kiss.
Blue eyes the same as the color of his grace and he knows, he remembers how that grace felt against his, merged and mingled until they were not two, but one.
He remembers and the memories make his grace burn with a terrible rage, wanting to lash out against moss green eyes and a cocky grin and tell the stupid mudmonkey, the idiotic human that /he was mine, first, before you ever were destined, he was MINE/
[Not so much later]
He's falling back, back into the darkness and oblivion and he reaches out, grace and hands both. But Castiel doesn't reach back this time, instead reaching to his side and taking the warm hand of a soul that burns brighter than the Morningstar.
And that hurts more.
(Sam/Gabriel/Lucifer, PG)
Sam wakes up alone.
It takes him a moment to realize that, though, because his lovers had a tendency to leave lingering warmth in their spots for long after they'd left. Side benefit of being angels, Sam supposed.
However, the fact that he's not cold doesn't excuse the fact that he's alone.
So, he goes angel-hunting.
He quickly ascertains that they're not upstairs (bedroom, master bathroom, hall bathroom, guest room, office, closet) and makes no secret about heading downstairs in his search.
The living room is empty, as is the kitchen, dining room, workout room, laundry room and bathroom. The garage holds the car and lots of boxes, but no angels.
He'd been slightly irritated before. Now he's working up a slow burning anger.
After all, this wasn't the first time this had happened and he'd been sure that he'd made it very clear that he really, really didn't like it. That lesson obviously hadn't sunk in very well.
A quick call confirms that they're not over at Dean's; not that he'd expected them to be there, but he wanted to cover all the bases. Neither are they at Bobby's, Ellen's, or Chuck's.
After a moment of quiet deliberation, he goes upstairs and packs up enough clothes and necessities for a week. He puts the duffel by the front door, then goes into the kitchen.
Sam pours himself a tall glass of orange juice (pulp free) and sits at the kitchen table, content to stew in his anger and frustration until his wayward lovers decide to return.
He doesn't have long to wait.
Gabriel and Lucifer come in through the back door, in the living room and in full sight of the kitchen table. They're laughing and grinning at each other about something, at ease with each other after several years of constant companionship.
Lucifer's the first to see Sam at the table, the humor draining from his face in an instant. Gabriel takes a moment longer, but quickly realizes that his brother isn't laughing anymore and follows his gaze.
"Sam," he says and he would have said more, but Sam's standing and stalking closer and he wisely shuts his mouth.
"You," Sam snarls, looking from one archangel to the other, "are not allowed to leave me to wake up alone. I thought maybe you'd gotten the message the last time this happened, but you obviously need a reminder. I do not like waking up alone unnecessarily. In fact, I hate it. And right now, I'm pretty sure I hate you two, as well. I'm going to Bobby's. See you in a week. Don't come after me."
He ignores their attempts to make his stay, grabs the bag and is out the door in a matter of minutes. He has to wake up alone? Fine. Let them feel what it's like to wake up and know that something important is missing and might not come back this time.
Reach
(Lucifer/Castiel, Dean/Castiel, PG)
Gold bright grace reaches out and he can't help but reach back, strain for a last memory of what had been before it was no more. And the Morningstar asks, pleads, /wait for me/ and he can't quite speak past the sorrow that he's never felt before, but he shoves the images after the falling angel. /yes, yes i will/
[Millennia later]
Lucifer can't stand it. He can't stand reaching out, finding his true vessel's mind, only to find it rife with memories of /them/. The images burn into his own mind and he can't get rid of them. Watching them laugh and talk and kiss.
Blue eyes the same as the color of his grace and he knows, he remembers how that grace felt against his, merged and mingled until they were not two, but one.
He remembers and the memories make his grace burn with a terrible rage, wanting to lash out against moss green eyes and a cocky grin and tell the stupid mudmonkey, the idiotic human that /he was mine, first, before you ever were destined, he was MINE/
[Not so much later]
He's falling back, back into the darkness and oblivion and he reaches out, grace and hands both. But Castiel doesn't reach back this time, instead reaching to his side and taking the warm hand of a soul that burns brighter than the Morningstar.
And that hurts more.