Fanfic - SPN: Feather Worn (PG-13, Slash: Sam/Gabriel)
Title: Feather Worn
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Gabriel (archangel)
Prompt: "Supernatural, Gabriel/Sam or Dean/Castiel, 'wear my feather'" for kijikun over at comment_fic.
Word Count: ~940 words.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mature themes.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst! Apocalypse. Future. Character death. Violence. Established relationship. Plot. Slash. Comment!fic.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: In the end days, Gabriel sanctions Sam as his messenger with a feather like no bird alive.
Author's Notes: I'm experimenting with angels (heh). Don't mind me.
Plasma TV Discounts
It was strange, looking on this creature of God's creation and knowing that even he, tainted soul-deep, was more loved and more cherished, his will beautiful in a way that Gabriel's natural compliance could never truly be. He closed his eyes against the ache of it, knowing far too well how Lucifer could rage at this eternal truth. It didn't really matter, though, his love for his father was greater always than his love of his own pride and he knew now, way deep down, that the current state of affairs was not his father's chosen way.
"Sam." He dropped the sarcasm and the play as he opened his eyes, less the trickster and more the angel that he was born to be. "I need you to wear my feather so that my father will know that I'm the one who sent you … so that he'll listen and return. Will you do that for me?"
Quiet but determined, Sam nodded. "Of course."
Gabriel held his lips tight together for a moment before saying truth that he wished he could just wave away. "… It will burn against you for a lifetime, because your choices have been dark."
The flash of rebellion in Sam's eyes sparked as it would always, though the pain and sadness covered it before his nostrils could flare or his mouth could sneer defiantly. He'd learned, too well, to hide his bitter guilt. "Fine." His voice wavered, but he strengthened it with the setting of his shoulders. "I'll- ... I'll deal."
Gabriel found his fingers seeking Sam's shirt, his jacket-flanked chest, and whispered against the lips he'd caused to tremble with hurt and swallowed self-directed anger. "It doesn't mean I love you any less."
Sam kissed him in earnest, then, devotion as much as passion welling up from his heart to make both of their mouths ache with the intensity. His hand found the angel's nape and pressed him close, which Gabriel allowed until he couldn't anymore.
"Sam ... stop."
"Come with us."
"You know I can't. The sanctuary is for mortals only, all except for God."
"Well ... walk us to the gates then. Or- ..." Sam was back to pleading and it never sat quite right on his face, but the angel shook his head again and waved his partner's voice into the ether until he could say his final peace.
He struggled not to look away, the trickster that he'd cultivated underneath his skin begging to make light of things that required too much gravity. "I can't give you a feather from my wings unless they've been broken, unless my spark has … split … and ended."
Sam's eyes widened, silent mouth moving impotently, forming words like 'no' and 'don't' and 'what about …?'. He grabbed the angel and shook him by the shoulders, his expression twisting with the anger and arrogance of heroes who'd been trained to believe that there were always other ways.
"No, Sam. Castiel has all but fallen. He's … out of sync. Our father won't believe someone carrying his mark and there's no one else who can give you what you need … no one willing." For an eternity spent between obedience and self-made entertainment, it was strange to suddenly feel brave, but Gabriel reveled in it, built his far-too-worldly smile on it. "If my father thinks I'm worthy, he'll raise me up again. I'm willing to take that chance to get you to him safely, to … make sure he listens even if y'all are a pretty ragtag bunch." Okay, so maybe, he couldn't walk away without letting his eyes twinkle, mirthful, one last time.
Loosening his grip on the angel's shoulders, Sam glared a long time after that, but finally turned his eyes away, his teeth clenched tight, hating it and understanding, both at once.
Gabriel imagined that his throat had dried and cracked like an ancient scroll, his smile now a lie. "Close your eyes." You've seen me for the last time. Everything in and around him seemed soaked in bitter and sweet in equal measure.
Shining glassy dots settled at the edges of Sam's eyes as his mouth shaped itself to words the angel's ego didn't make him miss or strain to hear. "... I love you."
They both echoed breaths that they'd yanked in, shivery and quick. Gabriel was the one to finally end it, though, to pull the curtains over Sam's needing, seeking eyes with a hand that came away wet, knowing it would never be done otherwise. Then, he fought the fabric of Sam's shirt and shoved it up to feel the body warm under his hand, and as they stood together, breathed together, both their muscles shook beneath facades too fragile to hold onto.
"Gabriel ... please …"
The pain there, the aloneness that had seeped its way into Sam's marrow only to rupture up again, made the angel want to scream, to choke, to beg his departed father for a way to let him stay and be a comfort to this most penitent of His prodigal sons. Instead, though, he just closed his eyes and pressed fingers made of Heaven's purifying fire into his mortal charge and mortal lover. He listened to Sam's scream as it roared in every ear for acres, wild like the collected souls of Hell, and he wept his love, like liquid flame into the wound he left behind. Then Gabriel, as he was called, an archangel, bright and bold as all his kin, shrank and broke and faded as his lightning, the last of him a brilliant gold, sparked claims across Sam's skin.
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Gabriel (archangel)
Prompt: "Supernatural, Gabriel/Sam or Dean/Castiel, 'wear my feather'" for kijikun over at comment_fic.
Word Count: ~940 words.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mature themes.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst! Apocalypse. Future. Character death. Violence. Established relationship. Plot. Slash. Comment!fic.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: In the end days, Gabriel sanctions Sam as his messenger with a feather like no bird alive.
Author's Notes: I'm experimenting with angels (heh). Don't mind me.
Plasma TV Discounts
It was strange, looking on this creature of God's creation and knowing that even he, tainted soul-deep, was more loved and more cherished, his will beautiful in a way that Gabriel's natural compliance could never truly be. He closed his eyes against the ache of it, knowing far too well how Lucifer could rage at this eternal truth. It didn't really matter, though, his love for his father was greater always than his love of his own pride and he knew now, way deep down, that the current state of affairs was not his father's chosen way.
"Sam." He dropped the sarcasm and the play as he opened his eyes, less the trickster and more the angel that he was born to be. "I need you to wear my feather so that my father will know that I'm the one who sent you … so that he'll listen and return. Will you do that for me?"
Quiet but determined, Sam nodded. "Of course."
Gabriel held his lips tight together for a moment before saying truth that he wished he could just wave away. "… It will burn against you for a lifetime, because your choices have been dark."
The flash of rebellion in Sam's eyes sparked as it would always, though the pain and sadness covered it before his nostrils could flare or his mouth could sneer defiantly. He'd learned, too well, to hide his bitter guilt. "Fine." His voice wavered, but he strengthened it with the setting of his shoulders. "I'll- ... I'll deal."
Gabriel found his fingers seeking Sam's shirt, his jacket-flanked chest, and whispered against the lips he'd caused to tremble with hurt and swallowed self-directed anger. "It doesn't mean I love you any less."
Sam kissed him in earnest, then, devotion as much as passion welling up from his heart to make both of their mouths ache with the intensity. His hand found the angel's nape and pressed him close, which Gabriel allowed until he couldn't anymore.
"Sam ... stop."
"Come with us."
"You know I can't. The sanctuary is for mortals only, all except for God."
"Well ... walk us to the gates then. Or- ..." Sam was back to pleading and it never sat quite right on his face, but the angel shook his head again and waved his partner's voice into the ether until he could say his final peace.
He struggled not to look away, the trickster that he'd cultivated underneath his skin begging to make light of things that required too much gravity. "I can't give you a feather from my wings unless they've been broken, unless my spark has … split … and ended."
Sam's eyes widened, silent mouth moving impotently, forming words like 'no' and 'don't' and 'what about …?'. He grabbed the angel and shook him by the shoulders, his expression twisting with the anger and arrogance of heroes who'd been trained to believe that there were always other ways.
"No, Sam. Castiel has all but fallen. He's … out of sync. Our father won't believe someone carrying his mark and there's no one else who can give you what you need … no one willing." For an eternity spent between obedience and self-made entertainment, it was strange to suddenly feel brave, but Gabriel reveled in it, built his far-too-worldly smile on it. "If my father thinks I'm worthy, he'll raise me up again. I'm willing to take that chance to get you to him safely, to … make sure he listens even if y'all are a pretty ragtag bunch." Okay, so maybe, he couldn't walk away without letting his eyes twinkle, mirthful, one last time.
Loosening his grip on the angel's shoulders, Sam glared a long time after that, but finally turned his eyes away, his teeth clenched tight, hating it and understanding, both at once.
Gabriel imagined that his throat had dried and cracked like an ancient scroll, his smile now a lie. "Close your eyes." You've seen me for the last time. Everything in and around him seemed soaked in bitter and sweet in equal measure.
Shining glassy dots settled at the edges of Sam's eyes as his mouth shaped itself to words the angel's ego didn't make him miss or strain to hear. "... I love you."
They both echoed breaths that they'd yanked in, shivery and quick. Gabriel was the one to finally end it, though, to pull the curtains over Sam's needing, seeking eyes with a hand that came away wet, knowing it would never be done otherwise. Then, he fought the fabric of Sam's shirt and shoved it up to feel the body warm under his hand, and as they stood together, breathed together, both their muscles shook beneath facades too fragile to hold onto.
"Gabriel ... please …"
The pain there, the aloneness that had seeped its way into Sam's marrow only to rupture up again, made the angel want to scream, to choke, to beg his departed father for a way to let him stay and be a comfort to this most penitent of His prodigal sons. Instead, though, he just closed his eyes and pressed fingers made of Heaven's purifying fire into his mortal charge and mortal lover. He listened to Sam's scream as it roared in every ear for acres, wild like the collected souls of Hell, and he wept his love, like liquid flame into the wound he left behind. Then Gabriel, as he was called, an archangel, bright and bold as all his kin, shrank and broke and faded as his lightning, the last of him a brilliant gold, sparked claims across Sam's skin.