Fic: A Perfect Circle | Supernatural | Dean, Sam, John/Mary, others | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: A Perfect Circle
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John/Mary, Samuel/Deanna, Gabriel/Kali
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,799 total
Prompt: For Fic_Promptly: (with the theme: Provenance) SPN, Mary, Bracelet & SPN, Dean, Ring; For hc_bingo: Wings: Always There (Part 4); For au_bingo: Alternate History: Canon Event Changed (Part 3) & Alternate History: Author's Choice (Part 2); For kissbingo: Type: Letter (Part 2), Body: Arms (Part 3), & Other: To Shut Them Up (Part 4)
Summary: Dean's ring has a longer history than he knows.
Disclaimer: Kripke and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Two random comment-fic prompts + a slew of unfilled bingo prompts + sudden inspiration = FIC, YAY! \O/ (More notes at the end)
A Perfect Circle
Dean
2009
Dean's ring was gone. One minute there, the next disappeared, as far as he knew. It could've fallen off anywhere, though. He'd had it... last time he woke up in a real motel bed. Of that he was certain; the thing never left his finger if he could help it.
So, maybe someone had taken it off, pried it from his finger with a little grease-thing was a touch tight these days, after all-or snagged it when he was out. And who knew what could've happened before they wound up here? Who knew how much time had passed since he and Sam had been tossed into Nick at Night reruns?
Just... fuck!
But he'd have time to mourn his ring's loss later, time to give his full attention to the panic of not knowing, of having lost one of the few things that still meant something to him. For now, Dean was stuck in the Trickster's bizarro TV Land, and his focus was needed here, to concentrate on getting the fuck out of this maze.
If only he still had his ring, though, maybe he and Sam could get out of there faster. Maybe. It had only been his most valued good luck charm for freakin' ever.
~*~*~
2005
“God, Dean, why do you do that?” Sam groused, popping his beer bottle cap on the edge of the motel room's little table.
“What?” Dean shot back, flinging his own bottle cap straight at his brother with a flick of his wrist.
Sam batted the cap away, scowling. “Why do you use your ring to open bottles?” he clarified. “That's gotta tear up the silver.”
A glance at his ring, palm up, and Dean shrugged. “It doesn't. Never has. It's like a... good luck bottle opener. Always there when I need a cold one,” he finished with a lazy grin.
“Huh. Here's to indestructible good luck charms, then,” Sam offered, clinking his bottle against Dean's across the table.
“Here, here!”
~*~*~
2000
“Come on, come on,” Dean quietly urged, holding the end of the string up over the map on the table.
The ring tied to the other end swung like a pendulum wildly, tracing broad arcs through the air, and Dean held his breath, watching it. Slowly, it settled on a path, its arc shortened.
There.
A sharp jerk of the string, and Dean caught his ring, clenched it tight in his fist before folding up the map and heading for the door. This wasn't the first time Sam had run off, and damned if Dean wasn't gonna find him.
His ring hadn't let him down thus far.
~*~*~*~
John
1998
Throwing the Impala in park in front of the school, John shut off the engine and waited for Dean to come out.
This day was a long time coming, for sure, with no small amount of blood, sweat, and tears spilled along the way, and John almost couldn't believe it was finally here. Dean hadn't been a model student, not by a long shot-the fact that John felt like he'd failed his son in that area notwithstanding-but finally, finally, he was getting his GED, if he'd passed his last equivalency exam.
As pride warred with relief in John's chest over his son's accomplishment, Dean came sauntering out of the building at last, a large white envelope in hand.
Thank God.
As soon as the young man had landed in the passenger seat, John drew a small envelope of his own out of his jacket's inside pocket. “Conrats, kiddo,” he said, handing Dean his 'graduation' gift.
Dean looked at him sideways for a moment, before tearing open the envelope and dropping the contents into his palm, silver glinting with the mid-morning sun in his palm.
“A ring?”
John nodded. “Yep. Used to be your mom's. Take care of it, and it'll take care of you, okay?”
At his son's slight frown and sudden look of introspection, the quiet that settled over Dean whenever his mother was mentioned, John reached over and clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.
“Okay,” Dean nodded in return a moment later, the silver circle slipped onto his right ring finger. “Thanks, Dad.”
A smile at his son, and John started the car. “How does pizza sound?”
“Perfect.”
~*~*~
1987
When the silver was finally cooled, John held the jewelry piece up to the light. A perfect circle, smooth, sleek, unending. Everything he could ever want, to keep Mary close.
He just hoped she wouldn't be angry that he'd melted down some of the charms from the bracelet she used to wear. Of course, they'd been protective charms-he knew that now-so maybe she'd approve of him re-purposing them. She'd wanted him to keep the bracelet, certainly, so....
Slipping the ring on a finger of his right hand, John looked at it in the light. It felt... he wasn't sure. Right? Safe? And wrong, all at once, like it wasn't meant for him at all. It-
“Hey, dad!”
A startle at his eldest son barging into the little workshop behind the house they'd been renting, and John tugged the ring off and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Hey, Deano,” he grinned at his boy. “School's out already?”
Dean nodded and frowned at him, the expression making him look about thirty years older. “You casting silver bullets?”
“Yeah. Wanna help?”
“Sure.”
Maybe John could try the ring later, after the boys had crashed out for the night. Yeah. Later.
~*~*~
1983
This was it. The last box. John had been through the rest of Mary's things already, her clothes, books, trinkets, most of her jewelry, everything that survived the fire. But this was the last, the little wooden jewelry box that she'd told him never to touch.
Even now, he hesitated.
But he had to know, what had Mary been keeping secret?
A deep breath, and he carefully lifted the lid off, setting it to the side. Inside the box, there was a tiny silk bag and a small envelope, with his name written on it in Mary's beautiful cursive. Oh, God.
The small folded letter inside the envelope read:
John,
I know you must be scared, angry, and sad. I also know that if you're reading this, then something's happened, and I'm gone. It's been ten years, and that thing has probably come for me. Oh John, there are so many things you don't know! I wish I could tell you, but trust me, you don't want to know.
Please just take care of our little angels, okay? Keep them safe. Promise me that.
This will help.
Love and kisses always,
Mary
Folding the letter back into the envelope with shaking hands, his eyes swimming with sudden tears and mind spinning with confusion and dread, he set it back in the box and lifted out the tiny silk bag. He spilled the contents into his palm, and stared at the glinting silver of a charm bracelet. The bracelet that Mary hadn't worn since Dean was a baby, its charms symbols he'd never even seen before he'd met his wife.
The tears fell down his cheeks at last, and he gripped the bracelet in his palm, holding it to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I promise, Mary,” he choked out around his sobs. “I promise.”
~*~*~*~
Mary
1979
“Shiny, isn't it, Dean?”
The baby gurgled and laughed, entranced and reaching for the silver bracelet on Mary's wrist as she held him.
She couldn't resist shaking her wrist a little, so the charms jangled against each other. “You like that, huh?”
A happy squeal burst forth, and Dean shoved a tiny fist in his mouth, started munching on his fingers with toothless gums. He was absolutely adorable, so innocent, and Mary loved him so much.
Dropping kisses on his chubby little arms, his hands, his head, she rocked him in her embrace, swaying gently as she paced the nursery. If only she didn't know what was coming, what he'd have to become. It broke her heart to think of it, her little angel growing into a hunter like her father.
When that thought followed her for the rest of the day, deep terror knowing at her insides, she forced herself to take the bracelet off for good, to put it away for safe keeping. It wouldn't do her boy any good in the present, after all, and especially not when he could so easily swallow the very charms that would protect him; he'd need it later.
~*~*~
1973
“Are you a hunter!?”
Mary stared at the man that had her pinned against the brick wall in the alley, stunned. “Wh-how did you-?”
But she didn't need an answer, not really. She could feel it emanating from him, this... this magnetism, his eyes fixed on her bracelet. Her arms seemed to burn where he held her, the ring on his right hand seeming to sear into her skin, tingling, electric, a circuit somehow completed.
He was a hunter, too. Had to be.
“Who are you?”
She was certain she didn't want to know.
~*~*~
1968
Entirely too excited, Mary ripped the paper off the little box. Jewelry, it had to be jewelry.
She hoped.
Please don't be another knife, she silently pleaded.
Finally getting the box open, she pried the lid off, and-
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” her mom smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.
Mary practically squealed with delight as she lifted the silver bracelet from the box, examining each shining charm in the light. It wasn't a knife. Was still related to the family business, sadly, but at least this she could wear openly and not have too many people asking questions she couldn't answer. “Thank you so much!” she cried, hugging her mom quick, before her dad took the bracelet and fastened it around her right wrist.
“You're welcome, Mary,” her mom said, still smiling.
Her dad just fixed her with a look. “You wear this always, you hear? It'll protect you from some of the bad out there. And I don't want to find this on the floor of your room, like I did your throwing knives.”
Mary couldn't help rolling her eyes just a little, even as she reached over to hug her dad. “Thanks, daddy. I'll take good care of it, I promise.”
“That's my girl.”
~*~*~*~
Kali
1967
“Looking for a gift?”
Samuel narrowed his eyes at the woman in the little stall of the open-air market, scrutinizing her. He knew well that exotic-looking women selling supernatural trinkets were either demons, any of a variety of monsters-succubi, sirens, and so on-or straight-up con artists; so what was this one's story?
“Yes,” he told her after a moment, pretending to turn his attention to the jewelry she had on display. “Something for my daughter.” Much like her mother, and most women, he figured, Mary had a thing for jewelry, so that much was true, at least.
The dark-skinned woman smiled, batting her long eyelashes, and pulled a tray out of the small case. “How about something in silver? A necklace or a ring, perhaps?”
For a moment, Samuel felt dizzy, the woman's voice like honey and smoke, the air suddenly thick with Indian spices, jasmine, incense, something ancient, immortal, and he reached out to briefly steady himself on the case. Figured, she was probably one of the myriad of things he'd spent so many years hunting.
“Or perhaps a bracelet?” she suggested then, lifting a silver charm bracelet from the tray. Samuel was instantly mesmerized by the little charms, shining in the sun. He'd seen them all before, knew what they meant. And they were good symbols, symbols of protection.
Yes, that was exactly what Mary needed, protection. And so what if this woman wasn't what she seemed? He could bury the bracelet in salt for a few months to cleanse whatever curse or spell she'd likely put on it.
“How much?”
Smiling again, lush lips stained crimson like fresh blood, the woman replied, “Three dollars.”
Samuel nodded, reaching for his wallet. “Perfect.”
~*~*~
2009
Watching the boys run his little maze, his pets to play with for a while, Gabriel turned the shining silver ring over in his fingers. Silly kids, always losing their precious things.
“You'd think they would know better,” he said to no one in particular, before changing the channel on Sam and Dean, resetting the game board. Oh, and this time Sam was a talking car! Brilliant concept, if he did say so himself.
Then he felt it, the little thrum of energy pulsing within the ring.
“What?” he mused aloud.
Turning his attention away from the boys for a moment, he focused on the tiny signal. It was faint, as if decades of misuse, the silver changing hands more often than spare change, had tainted it, worn it down. But there it was, like a sort of... signature, and that signature was almost as familiar to him as those of his own brothers'.
Oh, what a glorious thing to find on a day like today, with so much going wrong, his brothers at each others' throats, their Father missing. At least he had something to look forward to now.
~*~*~
2010
When Kali was done, she licked the blood from her fingers. Hmm, Loki-Gabriel, she reminded herself bitterly-tasted much as she remembered: dirty, scared, and cocky. All horrible turn-offs for a girl like her. But what was a Goddess to do?
He did make her laugh.
And would keep doing so, if she had anything to say about it. There wasn't a force on this world or any other that could take that right away from her, especially not that malodorous thing from out of Hell that had once been an angel. Gabriel was hers.
Even if he had lied to her.
Watching him come around, Kali grinned to herself. Oh, but wouldn't he be vexed to discover that his family's little spat was over and done with?
To her surprise, though, he simply pushed himself up in the bed, his vessel intact and reanimated with his essence, his grace, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Hey doll-face, what took you so long?”
A long-suffering sigh, and she sat on the bed next to him. “You'll forgive me for the tardiness, I'm sure. I've been a little tied up.”
“Oh?” Gabriel asked, inspecting one broad gray wing, several of the feathers still soaked in his own blood from the magic she used to bring him back. “Hey, I need these, you know!” he protested then. “They're not exactly aerodynamic when they're wet.” As if to demonstrate his point, he lifted his wings and brought them back down in a powerful arc, the motion lifting him from the bed enough so that he landed on his knees upon coming back down. “See? That shoulda' shot me all the way to Timbuktu.”
Kali smirked, reaching out to swipe the remaining blood from his wing with long fingers. “You'll live.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed at the touch of his feathers. “Now there's a 'welcome home', if ever I got one.” Shivering and grinning, he closed his eyes, seeming to wait for more.
If she remembered correctly-and there was never any doubt about her memories of Loki-he'd had a thing for her hands and arms. He'd be so disappointed when she didn't play along.
A peek of one eye, and Gabriel pouted. “Tease.”
“Hardly. You would enjoy my wrath entirely too much.”
“Point,” he grinned again. Then, “Oh! Found something for you. Didn't have the opportunity to return it last time we met. Let's see....” Rummaging through his pockets, he came back with a silver ring held between his thumb and forefinger. “Think you might have left this somewhere?”
Kali brightened at the unexpected gesture, the gift, her property returned to her at long last, and when she took the ring from his fingers, it transformed immediately, the energy flowing through her from the silver that she'd imbued with her power so long ago, a perfect circle completed at last.
The bracelet fit around her wrist the same as it had before, and though she could see with perfect clarity the long, storied history now present in the silver, she said, “I thought I'd never see this again. Where did you find it?” just to hear what Gabriel might admit to.
Naturally, the look of dark mischief on Gabriel's face was much the same as she'd known it once, too. “Oh, you know, around.” Then his expression turned to one of question. “Out of curiosity, how would something of yours wind up in hunters' hands, anyway? That's pretty strong magic to waste on some lowly mortals, even if we do sometimes like them.”
A slight shrug, and Kali gazed at the charms as they glinted with the room's candlelight. “I was bored. And feeling generous. One demon-killer to another.”
"Slow week, huh?" Gabriel chuckled. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“Not nearly often enough,” she quipped back, her own eyebrow raised.
“Well, you are, and I will repeat it every day until the end of time, ad nauseum.”
With that, another minor surge of generosity came over her, mingled with gratitude and amusement. "Gabriel, stop talking," she commanded, and as her hidden arms manifested of their own accord to do what they were wont to, the Goddess of Destruction leaned forward to grace the Angel Gabriel with a long kiss.
He deserved that much, at least.
~*~*~*~
(A/N #2:: I've been wanting to write Gabriel/Kali resurrection fic since way last year. And especially with the wings prompt. >:D Hooray for comment-fic bunnies!)
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John/Mary, Samuel/Deanna, Gabriel/Kali
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,799 total
Prompt: For Fic_Promptly: (with the theme: Provenance) SPN, Mary, Bracelet & SPN, Dean, Ring; For hc_bingo: Wings: Always There (Part 4); For au_bingo: Alternate History: Canon Event Changed (Part 3) & Alternate History: Author's Choice (Part 2); For kissbingo: Type: Letter (Part 2), Body: Arms (Part 3), & Other: To Shut Them Up (Part 4)
Summary: Dean's ring has a longer history than he knows.
Disclaimer: Kripke and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Two random comment-fic prompts + a slew of unfilled bingo prompts + sudden inspiration = FIC, YAY! \O/ (More notes at the end)
A Perfect Circle
Dean
2009
Dean's ring was gone. One minute there, the next disappeared, as far as he knew. It could've fallen off anywhere, though. He'd had it... last time he woke up in a real motel bed. Of that he was certain; the thing never left his finger if he could help it.
So, maybe someone had taken it off, pried it from his finger with a little grease-thing was a touch tight these days, after all-or snagged it when he was out. And who knew what could've happened before they wound up here? Who knew how much time had passed since he and Sam had been tossed into Nick at Night reruns?
Just... fuck!
But he'd have time to mourn his ring's loss later, time to give his full attention to the panic of not knowing, of having lost one of the few things that still meant something to him. For now, Dean was stuck in the Trickster's bizarro TV Land, and his focus was needed here, to concentrate on getting the fuck out of this maze.
If only he still had his ring, though, maybe he and Sam could get out of there faster. Maybe. It had only been his most valued good luck charm for freakin' ever.
~*~*~
2005
“God, Dean, why do you do that?” Sam groused, popping his beer bottle cap on the edge of the motel room's little table.
“What?” Dean shot back, flinging his own bottle cap straight at his brother with a flick of his wrist.
Sam batted the cap away, scowling. “Why do you use your ring to open bottles?” he clarified. “That's gotta tear up the silver.”
A glance at his ring, palm up, and Dean shrugged. “It doesn't. Never has. It's like a... good luck bottle opener. Always there when I need a cold one,” he finished with a lazy grin.
“Huh. Here's to indestructible good luck charms, then,” Sam offered, clinking his bottle against Dean's across the table.
“Here, here!”
~*~*~
2000
“Come on, come on,” Dean quietly urged, holding the end of the string up over the map on the table.
The ring tied to the other end swung like a pendulum wildly, tracing broad arcs through the air, and Dean held his breath, watching it. Slowly, it settled on a path, its arc shortened.
There.
A sharp jerk of the string, and Dean caught his ring, clenched it tight in his fist before folding up the map and heading for the door. This wasn't the first time Sam had run off, and damned if Dean wasn't gonna find him.
His ring hadn't let him down thus far.
~*~*~*~
John
1998
Throwing the Impala in park in front of the school, John shut off the engine and waited for Dean to come out.
This day was a long time coming, for sure, with no small amount of blood, sweat, and tears spilled along the way, and John almost couldn't believe it was finally here. Dean hadn't been a model student, not by a long shot-the fact that John felt like he'd failed his son in that area notwithstanding-but finally, finally, he was getting his GED, if he'd passed his last equivalency exam.
As pride warred with relief in John's chest over his son's accomplishment, Dean came sauntering out of the building at last, a large white envelope in hand.
Thank God.
As soon as the young man had landed in the passenger seat, John drew a small envelope of his own out of his jacket's inside pocket. “Conrats, kiddo,” he said, handing Dean his 'graduation' gift.
Dean looked at him sideways for a moment, before tearing open the envelope and dropping the contents into his palm, silver glinting with the mid-morning sun in his palm.
“A ring?”
John nodded. “Yep. Used to be your mom's. Take care of it, and it'll take care of you, okay?”
At his son's slight frown and sudden look of introspection, the quiet that settled over Dean whenever his mother was mentioned, John reached over and clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.
“Okay,” Dean nodded in return a moment later, the silver circle slipped onto his right ring finger. “Thanks, Dad.”
A smile at his son, and John started the car. “How does pizza sound?”
“Perfect.”
~*~*~
1987
When the silver was finally cooled, John held the jewelry piece up to the light. A perfect circle, smooth, sleek, unending. Everything he could ever want, to keep Mary close.
He just hoped she wouldn't be angry that he'd melted down some of the charms from the bracelet she used to wear. Of course, they'd been protective charms-he knew that now-so maybe she'd approve of him re-purposing them. She'd wanted him to keep the bracelet, certainly, so....
Slipping the ring on a finger of his right hand, John looked at it in the light. It felt... he wasn't sure. Right? Safe? And wrong, all at once, like it wasn't meant for him at all. It-
“Hey, dad!”
A startle at his eldest son barging into the little workshop behind the house they'd been renting, and John tugged the ring off and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Hey, Deano,” he grinned at his boy. “School's out already?”
Dean nodded and frowned at him, the expression making him look about thirty years older. “You casting silver bullets?”
“Yeah. Wanna help?”
“Sure.”
Maybe John could try the ring later, after the boys had crashed out for the night. Yeah. Later.
~*~*~
1983
This was it. The last box. John had been through the rest of Mary's things already, her clothes, books, trinkets, most of her jewelry, everything that survived the fire. But this was the last, the little wooden jewelry box that she'd told him never to touch.
Even now, he hesitated.
But he had to know, what had Mary been keeping secret?
A deep breath, and he carefully lifted the lid off, setting it to the side. Inside the box, there was a tiny silk bag and a small envelope, with his name written on it in Mary's beautiful cursive. Oh, God.
The small folded letter inside the envelope read:
John,
I know you must be scared, angry, and sad. I also know that if you're reading this, then something's happened, and I'm gone. It's been ten years, and that thing has probably come for me. Oh John, there are so many things you don't know! I wish I could tell you, but trust me, you don't want to know.
Please just take care of our little angels, okay? Keep them safe. Promise me that.
This will help.
Love and kisses always,
Mary
Folding the letter back into the envelope with shaking hands, his eyes swimming with sudden tears and mind spinning with confusion and dread, he set it back in the box and lifted out the tiny silk bag. He spilled the contents into his palm, and stared at the glinting silver of a charm bracelet. The bracelet that Mary hadn't worn since Dean was a baby, its charms symbols he'd never even seen before he'd met his wife.
The tears fell down his cheeks at last, and he gripped the bracelet in his palm, holding it to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I promise, Mary,” he choked out around his sobs. “I promise.”
~*~*~*~
Mary
1979
“Shiny, isn't it, Dean?”
The baby gurgled and laughed, entranced and reaching for the silver bracelet on Mary's wrist as she held him.
She couldn't resist shaking her wrist a little, so the charms jangled against each other. “You like that, huh?”
A happy squeal burst forth, and Dean shoved a tiny fist in his mouth, started munching on his fingers with toothless gums. He was absolutely adorable, so innocent, and Mary loved him so much.
Dropping kisses on his chubby little arms, his hands, his head, she rocked him in her embrace, swaying gently as she paced the nursery. If only she didn't know what was coming, what he'd have to become. It broke her heart to think of it, her little angel growing into a hunter like her father.
When that thought followed her for the rest of the day, deep terror knowing at her insides, she forced herself to take the bracelet off for good, to put it away for safe keeping. It wouldn't do her boy any good in the present, after all, and especially not when he could so easily swallow the very charms that would protect him; he'd need it later.
~*~*~
1973
“Are you a hunter!?”
Mary stared at the man that had her pinned against the brick wall in the alley, stunned. “Wh-how did you-?”
But she didn't need an answer, not really. She could feel it emanating from him, this... this magnetism, his eyes fixed on her bracelet. Her arms seemed to burn where he held her, the ring on his right hand seeming to sear into her skin, tingling, electric, a circuit somehow completed.
He was a hunter, too. Had to be.
“Who are you?”
She was certain she didn't want to know.
~*~*~
1968
Entirely too excited, Mary ripped the paper off the little box. Jewelry, it had to be jewelry.
She hoped.
Please don't be another knife, she silently pleaded.
Finally getting the box open, she pried the lid off, and-
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” her mom smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.
Mary practically squealed with delight as she lifted the silver bracelet from the box, examining each shining charm in the light. It wasn't a knife. Was still related to the family business, sadly, but at least this she could wear openly and not have too many people asking questions she couldn't answer. “Thank you so much!” she cried, hugging her mom quick, before her dad took the bracelet and fastened it around her right wrist.
“You're welcome, Mary,” her mom said, still smiling.
Her dad just fixed her with a look. “You wear this always, you hear? It'll protect you from some of the bad out there. And I don't want to find this on the floor of your room, like I did your throwing knives.”
Mary couldn't help rolling her eyes just a little, even as she reached over to hug her dad. “Thanks, daddy. I'll take good care of it, I promise.”
“That's my girl.”
~*~*~*~
Kali
1967
“Looking for a gift?”
Samuel narrowed his eyes at the woman in the little stall of the open-air market, scrutinizing her. He knew well that exotic-looking women selling supernatural trinkets were either demons, any of a variety of monsters-succubi, sirens, and so on-or straight-up con artists; so what was this one's story?
“Yes,” he told her after a moment, pretending to turn his attention to the jewelry she had on display. “Something for my daughter.” Much like her mother, and most women, he figured, Mary had a thing for jewelry, so that much was true, at least.
The dark-skinned woman smiled, batting her long eyelashes, and pulled a tray out of the small case. “How about something in silver? A necklace or a ring, perhaps?”
For a moment, Samuel felt dizzy, the woman's voice like honey and smoke, the air suddenly thick with Indian spices, jasmine, incense, something ancient, immortal, and he reached out to briefly steady himself on the case. Figured, she was probably one of the myriad of things he'd spent so many years hunting.
“Or perhaps a bracelet?” she suggested then, lifting a silver charm bracelet from the tray. Samuel was instantly mesmerized by the little charms, shining in the sun. He'd seen them all before, knew what they meant. And they were good symbols, symbols of protection.
Yes, that was exactly what Mary needed, protection. And so what if this woman wasn't what she seemed? He could bury the bracelet in salt for a few months to cleanse whatever curse or spell she'd likely put on it.
“How much?”
Smiling again, lush lips stained crimson like fresh blood, the woman replied, “Three dollars.”
Samuel nodded, reaching for his wallet. “Perfect.”
~*~*~
2009
Watching the boys run his little maze, his pets to play with for a while, Gabriel turned the shining silver ring over in his fingers. Silly kids, always losing their precious things.
“You'd think they would know better,” he said to no one in particular, before changing the channel on Sam and Dean, resetting the game board. Oh, and this time Sam was a talking car! Brilliant concept, if he did say so himself.
Then he felt it, the little thrum of energy pulsing within the ring.
“What?” he mused aloud.
Turning his attention away from the boys for a moment, he focused on the tiny signal. It was faint, as if decades of misuse, the silver changing hands more often than spare change, had tainted it, worn it down. But there it was, like a sort of... signature, and that signature was almost as familiar to him as those of his own brothers'.
Oh, what a glorious thing to find on a day like today, with so much going wrong, his brothers at each others' throats, their Father missing. At least he had something to look forward to now.
~*~*~
2010
When Kali was done, she licked the blood from her fingers. Hmm, Loki-Gabriel, she reminded herself bitterly-tasted much as she remembered: dirty, scared, and cocky. All horrible turn-offs for a girl like her. But what was a Goddess to do?
He did make her laugh.
And would keep doing so, if she had anything to say about it. There wasn't a force on this world or any other that could take that right away from her, especially not that malodorous thing from out of Hell that had once been an angel. Gabriel was hers.
Even if he had lied to her.
Watching him come around, Kali grinned to herself. Oh, but wouldn't he be vexed to discover that his family's little spat was over and done with?
To her surprise, though, he simply pushed himself up in the bed, his vessel intact and reanimated with his essence, his grace, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Hey doll-face, what took you so long?”
A long-suffering sigh, and she sat on the bed next to him. “You'll forgive me for the tardiness, I'm sure. I've been a little tied up.”
“Oh?” Gabriel asked, inspecting one broad gray wing, several of the feathers still soaked in his own blood from the magic she used to bring him back. “Hey, I need these, you know!” he protested then. “They're not exactly aerodynamic when they're wet.” As if to demonstrate his point, he lifted his wings and brought them back down in a powerful arc, the motion lifting him from the bed enough so that he landed on his knees upon coming back down. “See? That shoulda' shot me all the way to Timbuktu.”
Kali smirked, reaching out to swipe the remaining blood from his wing with long fingers. “You'll live.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed at the touch of his feathers. “Now there's a 'welcome home', if ever I got one.” Shivering and grinning, he closed his eyes, seeming to wait for more.
If she remembered correctly-and there was never any doubt about her memories of Loki-he'd had a thing for her hands and arms. He'd be so disappointed when she didn't play along.
A peek of one eye, and Gabriel pouted. “Tease.”
“Hardly. You would enjoy my wrath entirely too much.”
“Point,” he grinned again. Then, “Oh! Found something for you. Didn't have the opportunity to return it last time we met. Let's see....” Rummaging through his pockets, he came back with a silver ring held between his thumb and forefinger. “Think you might have left this somewhere?”
Kali brightened at the unexpected gesture, the gift, her property returned to her at long last, and when she took the ring from his fingers, it transformed immediately, the energy flowing through her from the silver that she'd imbued with her power so long ago, a perfect circle completed at last.
The bracelet fit around her wrist the same as it had before, and though she could see with perfect clarity the long, storied history now present in the silver, she said, “I thought I'd never see this again. Where did you find it?” just to hear what Gabriel might admit to.
Naturally, the look of dark mischief on Gabriel's face was much the same as she'd known it once, too. “Oh, you know, around.” Then his expression turned to one of question. “Out of curiosity, how would something of yours wind up in hunters' hands, anyway? That's pretty strong magic to waste on some lowly mortals, even if we do sometimes like them.”
A slight shrug, and Kali gazed at the charms as they glinted with the room's candlelight. “I was bored. And feeling generous. One demon-killer to another.”
"Slow week, huh?" Gabriel chuckled. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“Not nearly often enough,” she quipped back, her own eyebrow raised.
“Well, you are, and I will repeat it every day until the end of time, ad nauseum.”
With that, another minor surge of generosity came over her, mingled with gratitude and amusement. "Gabriel, stop talking," she commanded, and as her hidden arms manifested of their own accord to do what they were wont to, the Goddess of Destruction leaned forward to grace the Angel Gabriel with a long kiss.
He deserved that much, at least.
~*~*~*~
(A/N #2:: I've been wanting to write Gabriel/Kali resurrection fic since way last year. And especially with the wings prompt. >:D Hooray for comment-fic bunnies!)