Fic: Rogue (Gabriel/M, Gabriel/F, PG-13) 29/36
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.
I tried to be historically accurate in this series as much as possible, but I ran into a very big problem with a character introduced her. His true, historical persona does not match the character in the Supernatural universe. I’ve tried to blend the two into a happy medium.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 1,782
Chapter Summary: There is only one man who can save the world now…
CHAPTER 29:
Extending an Invitation
“Miss Jane Richardson requests your company for dinner tonight.” Gabriel stood just inside the door to Samuel Colt’s workroom, dressed formally in a top hat and understated livery-clean this time, not the soot-covered castoffs he had worn as a chimney sweep. He presented a calling card in one white-gloved hand, the cotton perfectly immaculate and horribly out of place in this cluttered room of metal and grease.
“Miss Jane Richardson can boil her head,” the inventor grumbled from his position bent over a workbench. “No, wait, sorry, don’t tell her that.” He pushed his stool back, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Kindly inform Miss Richardson that while I am flattered by her interest, I am a very busy man and will not be joining her for dinner tonight or any other night. If she insists, tell her she can boil her head, I ain’t interested.”
“I believe you misunderstand the nature of this request.” Gabriel proffered the card again, his face angelically impassive. “It is not a request. You should get dressed properly, Mr. Colt. Miss Richardson expects you to meet her at Delmonico’s at half past seven.”
“Then start with telling her to boil her head. I don’t need society ladies thinking I’m a fine catch. They just want a profitable businessman on their arm, or in their purse.” Colt picked up a hammer and an iron rod, bending over his bench again.
“You do misunderstand.” Gabriel remained stoic as a rock. “Miss Richardson is not interested in a businessman.” He paused, waiting for Samuel Colt to turn just slightly toward him, the man curious despite himself. “She searches for a hunter.”
Colt set his tools down on his workbench, slowly turning to face Gabriel. The angel bobbed his outstretched hand slightly, encouraging Colt to take the card. “A hunter?”
“She will explain her motives over dinner, Mr. Colt.”
The man approached Gabriel warily, plucking the card from his fingers to inspect it. The card was plain white, engraved with Jane’s assumed name in curling black script, a faint border embossed into the heavy stationary. It was stylized after the most expensive calling cards Gabriel and Jane could find, impressing immense wealth and status with just the quality of paper and perfection of the ink.
Jane had designed it. Gabriel had simply snapped his fingers to create her a stack.
Ordinarily, Gabriel wouldn’t go for this level of theatrics. He and Jane had been travelling the world together for over a century now, more often than not assuming roles in the service area of life. They had been everything from apothecaries to printers to bartenders, with Gabriel quick to curse anyone who had tried to so much as pinch the saucy wench’s backside as Jane served the crowds. They rarely assumed this level of finery in their day-to-day aliases, despite Jane’s love for fine dresses and sparkling jewelry.
“Fine,” Colt snapped, tossing the card onto his workbench. “You can tell your Miss Richardson that I will join her for dinner tonight.”
“I shall arrange for a ride to pick you up from your home, Mr. Colt.” Gabriel bowed solemnly to the man. “Good afternoon, Sir.” He turned stiffly and left the workroom, spreading his wings as soon as he was out of sight.
Jane glanced up as Gabriel landed in her hotel room, a sketchpad open over her knees. “Did he accept?”
“He did. Took some convincing. He’s fairly sure that you’re going to throw yourself at him for a marriage proposal.”
Jane gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “Fat chance of that happening! Me, marry a hunter?”
“Suicidal,” Gabriel agreed, reaching for the pad. “For him. What have you concocted for tonight?”
“I was thinking red velvet for the gown,” Jane explained, leaning over Gabriel’s shoulder to point out some detailing in the sketches she had made of herself in a fine dress. “Lace for the trim, of course, with gathered pleats here around the waist. I’d need a new shawl and bag too, and gloves, but those silver slippers I wore this morning should be fine.”
“What color red?” Gabriel asked, flipping back a page to see the rear view Jane had drawn. “Bright? Dark?”
“Deep, blood red.” Jane grinned at Gabriel. “Have to look impressive!”
“Intimidating, I think you mean.” Gabriel waved Jane off the bed. She stepped into the center of the room and posed like a doll, her arms at her sides and slightly raised, head up, shoulders back, posture straight. Gabriel glanced at the drawing one more time, trying to hold an idea of the dress in his head before he snapped his fingers and transformed Jane’s simple muslin dress into the rich evening gown she had designed.
Jane rustled over to the mirror on the wall, which Gabriel snapped into something much larger, and examined the gown with a critical eye. “Can you tuck the front a bit more here? And maybe add an extra ruffle of lace to the sleeves?”
It took several tries before Gabriel had created something that Jane was satisfied with, but he was happy to put in the extra effort. Jane had endured over a century of rough living at his side. The least he could do for her was go all-out when the situation warranted it.
This situation did warrant it. The two were going ahead with Jane’s idea to construct a devil’s trap around the opening Hell Gate in the territories, but they were running out of time. The worlds would be in alignment in just under six months, and Gabriel wasn’t sure that using magic to lay the railway lines was the best idea. Cold, untainted iron was the best metal against demons. Using magic to move the rails into place could weaken its ability to deflect unholiness. Grace would be safer, but the amount of grace laying out all five lines would require was much more than Gabriel was willing to risk. He wasn’t entirely sure if his brothers would see the imminent threat of the opening gate over the thrill of hunting the rogue Archangel. They would have to build the lines the old-fashioned way, with human sweat and work.
With only six months to get the supplies out to the territories and the tracks laid in the cumbersome, mortal way, Gabriel and Jane had realized that they would need a big name, someone who could get work done fast simply by virtue of who he was, someone who could say ‘spare no expense’ and mean it. Once they realized the type of person they needed, there was only one possible option: Samuel Colt.
Samuel Colt had made a name for himself in the weapons industry on both sides of the Atlantic. A genius engineer and inventor, Colt had designed some of the finest firearms humans could use to murder each other with today. He had no qualms about who bought his weapons-he sold to slave owners and abolitionists alike, effectively arming both sides of the war that was brewing within the United States. At first, Jane had turned her nose up at working with such a morally ambiguous man, but Gabriel pointed out the other side of Samuel Colt, the shadows his adoring fans in New York and London couldn’t see.
Colt was a hunter, and one of the best in his generation. He was currently the only human alive who had ever killed a demon with a gun, and his list of victories was longer than the U.S. Constitution. He supplied both sides, all sides, all the time, Gabriel theorized, because there were monsters on both sides. Colt was too entrenched in the supernatural creepers to care about the human monsters. He had more important things on his mind.
Unfortunately, Colt had settled in New York City, where he was considered a darling of the social scene despite his repeated attempts to stay firmly out of the spotlight. He was well on his way to becoming the richest man in the city, and there were certain expectations of a man like that. Samuel Colt couldn’t go accepting jobs from washerwomen or bartenders. For this, Gabriel and Jane had to go high class.
And so Miss Jane Richardson, a wealthy, untitled woman with an undecipherable accent (Jane had mixed a touch of Indian, French, and German accents together, then added the slightest brush of Cockney for whimsy), and her loyal manservant Lucas were created. Gabriel suspected that Colt would react better to a powerful woman than a powerful man. Jane had agreed, but warned Gabriel that should would not be seducing Colt for this job. If seduction was required, Gabriel would have to shapeshift and do it himself.
“What time am I meeting him?” Jane finally turned away from her mirror and sat in front of her vanity, picking up a hairbrush and beginning to dress her hair. It was long now, nearly waist-length, and had a gentle wave to the dark auburn strands.
“I made reservations for a private room at Delmonico’s at half past seven.” Gabriel climbed off the bed and came up behind Jane, taking the brush from her and running it through her hair himself. He used to do this for her when she was a little girl. He’d sit in a chair by the fire, and she’d kneel between his feet, reading aloud from a book of myths as he brushed and braided her hair before bed. The rhythms of the brush and the hair sliding through his fingers was soothing, a little moment of peace as the world crumbled apart. “You remember what to say?”
“You took me there to see it in person, Papa.” Jane folded her hands in her lap, watching him in the mirror. “I don’t think I can forget.”
“Good.” Gabriel began to gather Jane’s hair up, brushing and twisting it into one of the elaborate buns that was so fashionable these days. Jane passed him pins as needed. When he finished, Gabriel set the brush down and looped his arms loosely around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You look so grown up.”
“I’ve looked so grown up for a hundred and thirty years, Papa.” Jane curled her fingers gently around Gabriel’s arms, tilting her head to the side to rest it against his. “I am grown up.”
“If you were an angel, you’d still be considered a baby.”
“The poor things. I’d hate to be treated like a child for centuries. I pity them.”
“It was normal for us. All we knew.” Gabriel turned his head to kiss Jane’s cheek. “You look lovely. Samuel Colt won’t know what hit him.”
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.
I tried to be historically accurate in this series as much as possible, but I ran into a very big problem with a character introduced her. His true, historical persona does not match the character in the Supernatural universe. I’ve tried to blend the two into a happy medium.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 1,782
Chapter Summary: There is only one man who can save the world now…
CHAPTER 29:
Extending an Invitation
“Miss Jane Richardson requests your company for dinner tonight.” Gabriel stood just inside the door to Samuel Colt’s workroom, dressed formally in a top hat and understated livery-clean this time, not the soot-covered castoffs he had worn as a chimney sweep. He presented a calling card in one white-gloved hand, the cotton perfectly immaculate and horribly out of place in this cluttered room of metal and grease.
“Miss Jane Richardson can boil her head,” the inventor grumbled from his position bent over a workbench. “No, wait, sorry, don’t tell her that.” He pushed his stool back, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Kindly inform Miss Richardson that while I am flattered by her interest, I am a very busy man and will not be joining her for dinner tonight or any other night. If she insists, tell her she can boil her head, I ain’t interested.”
“I believe you misunderstand the nature of this request.” Gabriel proffered the card again, his face angelically impassive. “It is not a request. You should get dressed properly, Mr. Colt. Miss Richardson expects you to meet her at Delmonico’s at half past seven.”
“Then start with telling her to boil her head. I don’t need society ladies thinking I’m a fine catch. They just want a profitable businessman on their arm, or in their purse.” Colt picked up a hammer and an iron rod, bending over his bench again.
“You do misunderstand.” Gabriel remained stoic as a rock. “Miss Richardson is not interested in a businessman.” He paused, waiting for Samuel Colt to turn just slightly toward him, the man curious despite himself. “She searches for a hunter.”
Colt set his tools down on his workbench, slowly turning to face Gabriel. The angel bobbed his outstretched hand slightly, encouraging Colt to take the card. “A hunter?”
“She will explain her motives over dinner, Mr. Colt.”
The man approached Gabriel warily, plucking the card from his fingers to inspect it. The card was plain white, engraved with Jane’s assumed name in curling black script, a faint border embossed into the heavy stationary. It was stylized after the most expensive calling cards Gabriel and Jane could find, impressing immense wealth and status with just the quality of paper and perfection of the ink.
Jane had designed it. Gabriel had simply snapped his fingers to create her a stack.
Ordinarily, Gabriel wouldn’t go for this level of theatrics. He and Jane had been travelling the world together for over a century now, more often than not assuming roles in the service area of life. They had been everything from apothecaries to printers to bartenders, with Gabriel quick to curse anyone who had tried to so much as pinch the saucy wench’s backside as Jane served the crowds. They rarely assumed this level of finery in their day-to-day aliases, despite Jane’s love for fine dresses and sparkling jewelry.
“Fine,” Colt snapped, tossing the card onto his workbench. “You can tell your Miss Richardson that I will join her for dinner tonight.”
“I shall arrange for a ride to pick you up from your home, Mr. Colt.” Gabriel bowed solemnly to the man. “Good afternoon, Sir.” He turned stiffly and left the workroom, spreading his wings as soon as he was out of sight.
Jane glanced up as Gabriel landed in her hotel room, a sketchpad open over her knees. “Did he accept?”
“He did. Took some convincing. He’s fairly sure that you’re going to throw yourself at him for a marriage proposal.”
Jane gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “Fat chance of that happening! Me, marry a hunter?”
“Suicidal,” Gabriel agreed, reaching for the pad. “For him. What have you concocted for tonight?”
“I was thinking red velvet for the gown,” Jane explained, leaning over Gabriel’s shoulder to point out some detailing in the sketches she had made of herself in a fine dress. “Lace for the trim, of course, with gathered pleats here around the waist. I’d need a new shawl and bag too, and gloves, but those silver slippers I wore this morning should be fine.”
“What color red?” Gabriel asked, flipping back a page to see the rear view Jane had drawn. “Bright? Dark?”
“Deep, blood red.” Jane grinned at Gabriel. “Have to look impressive!”
“Intimidating, I think you mean.” Gabriel waved Jane off the bed. She stepped into the center of the room and posed like a doll, her arms at her sides and slightly raised, head up, shoulders back, posture straight. Gabriel glanced at the drawing one more time, trying to hold an idea of the dress in his head before he snapped his fingers and transformed Jane’s simple muslin dress into the rich evening gown she had designed.
Jane rustled over to the mirror on the wall, which Gabriel snapped into something much larger, and examined the gown with a critical eye. “Can you tuck the front a bit more here? And maybe add an extra ruffle of lace to the sleeves?”
It took several tries before Gabriel had created something that Jane was satisfied with, but he was happy to put in the extra effort. Jane had endured over a century of rough living at his side. The least he could do for her was go all-out when the situation warranted it.
This situation did warrant it. The two were going ahead with Jane’s idea to construct a devil’s trap around the opening Hell Gate in the territories, but they were running out of time. The worlds would be in alignment in just under six months, and Gabriel wasn’t sure that using magic to lay the railway lines was the best idea. Cold, untainted iron was the best metal against demons. Using magic to move the rails into place could weaken its ability to deflect unholiness. Grace would be safer, but the amount of grace laying out all five lines would require was much more than Gabriel was willing to risk. He wasn’t entirely sure if his brothers would see the imminent threat of the opening gate over the thrill of hunting the rogue Archangel. They would have to build the lines the old-fashioned way, with human sweat and work.
With only six months to get the supplies out to the territories and the tracks laid in the cumbersome, mortal way, Gabriel and Jane had realized that they would need a big name, someone who could get work done fast simply by virtue of who he was, someone who could say ‘spare no expense’ and mean it. Once they realized the type of person they needed, there was only one possible option: Samuel Colt.
Samuel Colt had made a name for himself in the weapons industry on both sides of the Atlantic. A genius engineer and inventor, Colt had designed some of the finest firearms humans could use to murder each other with today. He had no qualms about who bought his weapons-he sold to slave owners and abolitionists alike, effectively arming both sides of the war that was brewing within the United States. At first, Jane had turned her nose up at working with such a morally ambiguous man, but Gabriel pointed out the other side of Samuel Colt, the shadows his adoring fans in New York and London couldn’t see.
Colt was a hunter, and one of the best in his generation. He was currently the only human alive who had ever killed a demon with a gun, and his list of victories was longer than the U.S. Constitution. He supplied both sides, all sides, all the time, Gabriel theorized, because there were monsters on both sides. Colt was too entrenched in the supernatural creepers to care about the human monsters. He had more important things on his mind.
Unfortunately, Colt had settled in New York City, where he was considered a darling of the social scene despite his repeated attempts to stay firmly out of the spotlight. He was well on his way to becoming the richest man in the city, and there were certain expectations of a man like that. Samuel Colt couldn’t go accepting jobs from washerwomen or bartenders. For this, Gabriel and Jane had to go high class.
And so Miss Jane Richardson, a wealthy, untitled woman with an undecipherable accent (Jane had mixed a touch of Indian, French, and German accents together, then added the slightest brush of Cockney for whimsy), and her loyal manservant Lucas were created. Gabriel suspected that Colt would react better to a powerful woman than a powerful man. Jane had agreed, but warned Gabriel that should would not be seducing Colt for this job. If seduction was required, Gabriel would have to shapeshift and do it himself.
“What time am I meeting him?” Jane finally turned away from her mirror and sat in front of her vanity, picking up a hairbrush and beginning to dress her hair. It was long now, nearly waist-length, and had a gentle wave to the dark auburn strands.
“I made reservations for a private room at Delmonico’s at half past seven.” Gabriel climbed off the bed and came up behind Jane, taking the brush from her and running it through her hair himself. He used to do this for her when she was a little girl. He’d sit in a chair by the fire, and she’d kneel between his feet, reading aloud from a book of myths as he brushed and braided her hair before bed. The rhythms of the brush and the hair sliding through his fingers was soothing, a little moment of peace as the world crumbled apart. “You remember what to say?”
“You took me there to see it in person, Papa.” Jane folded her hands in her lap, watching him in the mirror. “I don’t think I can forget.”
“Good.” Gabriel began to gather Jane’s hair up, brushing and twisting it into one of the elaborate buns that was so fashionable these days. Jane passed him pins as needed. When he finished, Gabriel set the brush down and looped his arms loosely around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You look so grown up.”
“I’ve looked so grown up for a hundred and thirty years, Papa.” Jane curled her fingers gently around Gabriel’s arms, tilting her head to the side to rest it against his. “I am grown up.”
“If you were an angel, you’d still be considered a baby.”
“The poor things. I’d hate to be treated like a child for centuries. I pity them.”
“It was normal for us. All we knew.” Gabriel turned his head to kiss Jane’s cheek. “You look lovely. Samuel Colt won’t know what hit him.”
Next...