Fic: Rogue (Gabriel/M, Gabriel/F, PG-13) 10/36
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: This is the third part of the Missing an Angel series. It is recommended that you read the first two before reading this one.
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (Gabe has a potty mouth!)
Chapter word count: 1,572
Chapter Summary: This is how a boy becomes a man. Not with a bang, but with a… well, yes, all right, with a bang.
CHAPTER 10:
Congratulations
Lightning flashed, illuminating the form of the angel standing guard above the MacLeod cottage. Huge wings stretched out like shadows behind him in the moment of light, hundreds of wings, the mark of an Archangel of Heaven. Gabriel shook his head fiercely, splattering drops of water even as more fell onto his vessel, soaking through his clothes and running down his skin.
He hated storms.
This storm seemed entirely natural. There was no grace in the wind that whipped against his wet face or the lightning that sizzled through the air. Raphael was not involved. If Barachiel’s angels were stirring up this mess (who was in charge of weather now, Hael? No, she had the terraforming garrison… at least she did a thousand years ago. Oriel? Oriel sounded right…), they had kicked it up hundreds of miles away, too far for Gabriel to feel without stretching.
The angel sighed and curved his wings up and over his head, trying to block the worst of the rain. Insubstantial though they were, the concentrated presence of angel did manage to deflect some of the water.
Gabriel was still drenched by the time Fergus came home, slipping and sliding his way up the muddy path toward the cottage. Gabriel leapt from the roof to meet him. “What took you so long?” he demanded, stretching his wings across to shelter Fergus as well. He had been asked to remain behind today while Fergus ‘took care of something’ in the village. Fergus had been gone for hours. Gabriel had waited. “What were you even doing?”
Fergus laughed, grabbing Gabriel’s arm for balance as he slipped again. “I had a great day, Loki, thanks for asking!”
“That isn’t what I asked!” Gabriel scowled, half-helping, half-shoving Fergus toward the cottage. “You know I hate rain!”
“You could have gone inside,” Fergus pointed out, with a not-so-innocent little smirk. “I didn’t ask you to wait in the storm.”
Gabriel growled under his breath at the man. Fergus knew full well (though he didn’t necessarily understand why) that Gabriel did not like to spend any more time in Brody’s presence than necessary, at least not without Fergus himself to act as a buffer. Ever since Brody helped Fergus corrupt himself, Gabriel could not stand to look at the witch. For what little it helped, Brody’s subconscious mind had finally recognized Gabriel as higher up the food chain. Brody constantly flinched whenever Gabriel entered the room or glanced his way. The instinctive terror now ingrained in the man was almost worth his unbearable presence.
The storm rushed into the cottage as soon as the door was opened. Issobell barely had time to snap “Shut that door, you damn fools!” before Fergus was bolting it behind them and Gabriel snapping his fingers to instantly dry everything that had been touched by the rain, himself and Fergus included. Already feeling better, Gabriel ruffled his wings and folded them in.
Fergus ran a hand through his hair, grinning over at Gabriel. “Sure is handy to have a god around.”
“I knew it. You just like me for my magic.” Gabriel settled down in his customary spot by the fireplace, crossing his legs in front of him and leaning back on his hands. He ignored Brody in his chair on the other side, his eyes only focused on Fergus as he shed his outerwear.
“I can’t say it’s not one of the reasons you’re awesome,” Fergus agreed, finally flopping down beside Gabriel, his legs spread over the angel’s lap as he pointed his bare feet at the fire. Gabriel reached out to cover Fergus’ toes with his warm hands, and Fergus gave a pleased groan, tipping his head back. “Yeah, that too. You’re never cold, Loki.”
“God,” Gabriel said with a shrug, as if that was explanation enough. It was, to the MacLeods.
“Have a successful day?” Brody asked, looking down at his nephew.
Fergus grinned again, his face flushed in the fire’s glow. “Oh yeah, everything went perfect! Well, except for the storm, but that actually helped. She wanted to get in close…”
“She?” Gabriel asked, feeling a familiar curl of jealousy spiral through his grace. He knew who, but Fergus just confirmed it.
“Gabrielle, who else?”
“Was this the ‘help’ offered by your mistress?”
Fergus’ slightly embarrassed nod was all the confirmation Gabriel needed. Brody laughed loudly, one of his old belly-laughs, but it was strained these days. “Our boy’s become a man!”
Gabriel wanted to hit something. He wanted to slam his fist through Brody’s face. Fergus was his, his, and that girl, that bitch had stolen him away, had taken a piece that Gabriel would never have now, never, never. Gabriel wanted to ignite every volcano and drown the world in fire. His!
Fergus glanced up at Gabriel, uncharacteristically shy, and Gabriel loosened his hands around Fergus’ feet, found a smile somewhere in his reserves and moved his hands up to Fergus’ ankles, then his calves, slowly warming the stretch of exposed skin beneath his too-short trousers. “Congratulations.”
A section of the cliffs crumbled into the sea that night as the people of Canisbay slept out the storm. Too much water, too little rock. The boulders poking out of the sea were an impressive sight. The imprint of an Archangel’s fist was buried at the bottom of the pile.
Gabriel sighed to himself as he sat in the wooden church pew the MacLeods had claimed as theirs decades ago. He was at the wall end, staring out the glass windows. Fergus sat to his right, then Issobell, then Brody at the far end. Father Innes was preaching now, managing to do a fair interpretation of the meaning of Jesus’ words even though the words themselves were incorrect (Gabriel knew. He’d been there). The angel wasn’t bothering to pay attention to the sermon, ignoring his usual weekly entertainment of the misunderstanding of God’s Word. Fergus’ soul had darkened even further yesterday. Lilith was raking her claws through what remained of Cariel’s spirit as surely as the sun rose each morning. And Gabrielle… Gabriel turned his head to look at the preacher’s daughter, seated in the front pew, her hands folded demurely in her lap as if she hadn’t been indulging in “sins of the flesh” with the witch’s bastard boy last night. She was the very picture of lovely innocence, her golden hair shining in the sunlight filtering in through the windows, her face turned raptly toward her father.
Gabriel peered past her flesh to take a look at her soul. It was a pathetic, twisted, stained little thing, not demonically tainted but nothing to be proud of. Her machinations and manipulations had all taken their toll on her spiritual purity. Even Gabriel couldn’t say for certain where she would end up in the afterlife. She wasn’t corrupt enough for an immediate fall to Hell, but she was pretty badly messed up by Heaven’s standards. Still, he was the Messenger, not the Judge. He had no say in the final resting place of any human soul, not even one as fractured as Gabrielle’s.
Wait… fractured?
Gabriel sat up straighter in the pew, squinting across the church at Gabrielle’s soul. Sure enough, there was a break in the glow, a distinct corner separated from its mother and starting to grow in a different direction… because that was what she was now. A mother. Gabrielle’s body housed two human souls.
She was pregnant.
Gabriel focused on the newly minted soul, recognizing some of the swirl of color, seeing a horrible mish-mash of Gabrielle, Fergus, and himself. This new soul was one of his bloodline. It could one day be a vessel for his spirit.
It was Fergus’ child.
He should be happy. His line of vessels would continue unbroken. The next generation was being crafted already, should anything happen to Fergus. He would have a backup, just in case something went very wrong. He should be happy.
He couldn’t be.
This is the help Lilith gave, Gabriel realized. Gabrielle was not promised to any man. Once it became apparent that she was with child, she couldn’t be promised to any man. She was spoiled, tainted, and the only man she was deserving of now was the one who had so tarnished her. If Fergus was a good man (and he was), he should ask for her hand in marriage (and he would). Of course, Gabrielle and her father did not have to agree, but they would both know she would have no other option as long as she lived in Canisbay.
Gabriel didn’t even realize when the service had ended until Fergus was tugging at his arm, leading him out of the church. Issobell came up on Gabriel’s other side, hooking her arm through his. “You seemed awfully focused on our dear Miss Innes there, Luke,” she said, leading him away from the small crowd of Canisbay villagers. “Did you see something interesting?”
“Can you see inside her?” Fergus asked quietly, on Gabriel’s other side. Brody was thankfully keeping his distance, but he was still close enough to Issobell to hear their quiet conversation. “Is she… did it work?”
“Congratulations,” Gabriel said again, his tongue feeling stiff within his mouth. His wings opened behind him, straining toward the sky. He needed to get out of here. He needed to fly. He needed to fly! “In nine months, you’re going to be a father.”
Next...
Notes: This is the third part of the Missing an Angel series. It is recommended that you read the first two before reading this one.
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (Gabe has a potty mouth!)
Chapter word count: 1,572
Chapter Summary: This is how a boy becomes a man. Not with a bang, but with a… well, yes, all right, with a bang.
CHAPTER 10:
Congratulations
Lightning flashed, illuminating the form of the angel standing guard above the MacLeod cottage. Huge wings stretched out like shadows behind him in the moment of light, hundreds of wings, the mark of an Archangel of Heaven. Gabriel shook his head fiercely, splattering drops of water even as more fell onto his vessel, soaking through his clothes and running down his skin.
He hated storms.
This storm seemed entirely natural. There was no grace in the wind that whipped against his wet face or the lightning that sizzled through the air. Raphael was not involved. If Barachiel’s angels were stirring up this mess (who was in charge of weather now, Hael? No, she had the terraforming garrison… at least she did a thousand years ago. Oriel? Oriel sounded right…), they had kicked it up hundreds of miles away, too far for Gabriel to feel without stretching.
The angel sighed and curved his wings up and over his head, trying to block the worst of the rain. Insubstantial though they were, the concentrated presence of angel did manage to deflect some of the water.
Gabriel was still drenched by the time Fergus came home, slipping and sliding his way up the muddy path toward the cottage. Gabriel leapt from the roof to meet him. “What took you so long?” he demanded, stretching his wings across to shelter Fergus as well. He had been asked to remain behind today while Fergus ‘took care of something’ in the village. Fergus had been gone for hours. Gabriel had waited. “What were you even doing?”
Fergus laughed, grabbing Gabriel’s arm for balance as he slipped again. “I had a great day, Loki, thanks for asking!”
“That isn’t what I asked!” Gabriel scowled, half-helping, half-shoving Fergus toward the cottage. “You know I hate rain!”
“You could have gone inside,” Fergus pointed out, with a not-so-innocent little smirk. “I didn’t ask you to wait in the storm.”
Gabriel growled under his breath at the man. Fergus knew full well (though he didn’t necessarily understand why) that Gabriel did not like to spend any more time in Brody’s presence than necessary, at least not without Fergus himself to act as a buffer. Ever since Brody helped Fergus corrupt himself, Gabriel could not stand to look at the witch. For what little it helped, Brody’s subconscious mind had finally recognized Gabriel as higher up the food chain. Brody constantly flinched whenever Gabriel entered the room or glanced his way. The instinctive terror now ingrained in the man was almost worth his unbearable presence.
The storm rushed into the cottage as soon as the door was opened. Issobell barely had time to snap “Shut that door, you damn fools!” before Fergus was bolting it behind them and Gabriel snapping his fingers to instantly dry everything that had been touched by the rain, himself and Fergus included. Already feeling better, Gabriel ruffled his wings and folded them in.
Fergus ran a hand through his hair, grinning over at Gabriel. “Sure is handy to have a god around.”
“I knew it. You just like me for my magic.” Gabriel settled down in his customary spot by the fireplace, crossing his legs in front of him and leaning back on his hands. He ignored Brody in his chair on the other side, his eyes only focused on Fergus as he shed his outerwear.
“I can’t say it’s not one of the reasons you’re awesome,” Fergus agreed, finally flopping down beside Gabriel, his legs spread over the angel’s lap as he pointed his bare feet at the fire. Gabriel reached out to cover Fergus’ toes with his warm hands, and Fergus gave a pleased groan, tipping his head back. “Yeah, that too. You’re never cold, Loki.”
“God,” Gabriel said with a shrug, as if that was explanation enough. It was, to the MacLeods.
“Have a successful day?” Brody asked, looking down at his nephew.
Fergus grinned again, his face flushed in the fire’s glow. “Oh yeah, everything went perfect! Well, except for the storm, but that actually helped. She wanted to get in close…”
“She?” Gabriel asked, feeling a familiar curl of jealousy spiral through his grace. He knew who, but Fergus just confirmed it.
“Gabrielle, who else?”
“Was this the ‘help’ offered by your mistress?”
Fergus’ slightly embarrassed nod was all the confirmation Gabriel needed. Brody laughed loudly, one of his old belly-laughs, but it was strained these days. “Our boy’s become a man!”
Gabriel wanted to hit something. He wanted to slam his fist through Brody’s face. Fergus was his, his, and that girl, that bitch had stolen him away, had taken a piece that Gabriel would never have now, never, never. Gabriel wanted to ignite every volcano and drown the world in fire. His!
Fergus glanced up at Gabriel, uncharacteristically shy, and Gabriel loosened his hands around Fergus’ feet, found a smile somewhere in his reserves and moved his hands up to Fergus’ ankles, then his calves, slowly warming the stretch of exposed skin beneath his too-short trousers. “Congratulations.”
A section of the cliffs crumbled into the sea that night as the people of Canisbay slept out the storm. Too much water, too little rock. The boulders poking out of the sea were an impressive sight. The imprint of an Archangel’s fist was buried at the bottom of the pile.
Gabriel sighed to himself as he sat in the wooden church pew the MacLeods had claimed as theirs decades ago. He was at the wall end, staring out the glass windows. Fergus sat to his right, then Issobell, then Brody at the far end. Father Innes was preaching now, managing to do a fair interpretation of the meaning of Jesus’ words even though the words themselves were incorrect (Gabriel knew. He’d been there). The angel wasn’t bothering to pay attention to the sermon, ignoring his usual weekly entertainment of the misunderstanding of God’s Word. Fergus’ soul had darkened even further yesterday. Lilith was raking her claws through what remained of Cariel’s spirit as surely as the sun rose each morning. And Gabrielle… Gabriel turned his head to look at the preacher’s daughter, seated in the front pew, her hands folded demurely in her lap as if she hadn’t been indulging in “sins of the flesh” with the witch’s bastard boy last night. She was the very picture of lovely innocence, her golden hair shining in the sunlight filtering in through the windows, her face turned raptly toward her father.
Gabriel peered past her flesh to take a look at her soul. It was a pathetic, twisted, stained little thing, not demonically tainted but nothing to be proud of. Her machinations and manipulations had all taken their toll on her spiritual purity. Even Gabriel couldn’t say for certain where she would end up in the afterlife. She wasn’t corrupt enough for an immediate fall to Hell, but she was pretty badly messed up by Heaven’s standards. Still, he was the Messenger, not the Judge. He had no say in the final resting place of any human soul, not even one as fractured as Gabrielle’s.
Wait… fractured?
Gabriel sat up straighter in the pew, squinting across the church at Gabrielle’s soul. Sure enough, there was a break in the glow, a distinct corner separated from its mother and starting to grow in a different direction… because that was what she was now. A mother. Gabrielle’s body housed two human souls.
She was pregnant.
Gabriel focused on the newly minted soul, recognizing some of the swirl of color, seeing a horrible mish-mash of Gabrielle, Fergus, and himself. This new soul was one of his bloodline. It could one day be a vessel for his spirit.
It was Fergus’ child.
He should be happy. His line of vessels would continue unbroken. The next generation was being crafted already, should anything happen to Fergus. He would have a backup, just in case something went very wrong. He should be happy.
He couldn’t be.
This is the help Lilith gave, Gabriel realized. Gabrielle was not promised to any man. Once it became apparent that she was with child, she couldn’t be promised to any man. She was spoiled, tainted, and the only man she was deserving of now was the one who had so tarnished her. If Fergus was a good man (and he was), he should ask for her hand in marriage (and he would). Of course, Gabrielle and her father did not have to agree, but they would both know she would have no other option as long as she lived in Canisbay.
Gabriel didn’t even realize when the service had ended until Fergus was tugging at his arm, leading him out of the church. Issobell came up on Gabriel’s other side, hooking her arm through his. “You seemed awfully focused on our dear Miss Innes there, Luke,” she said, leading him away from the small crowd of Canisbay villagers. “Did you see something interesting?”
“Can you see inside her?” Fergus asked quietly, on Gabriel’s other side. Brody was thankfully keeping his distance, but he was still close enough to Issobell to hear their quiet conversation. “Is she… did it work?”
“Congratulations,” Gabriel said again, his tongue feeling stiff within his mouth. His wings opened behind him, straining toward the sky. He needed to get out of here. He needed to fly. He needed to fly! “In nine months, you’re going to be a father.”
Next...