98A/N: Hihi! So, I've been working on noooomerous things...at the same time...because my brain doesn't know how to work on just one thing. And I realized that I didn't really have a reason to not post all of these things. If I'm gonna write 'em, somebody can read 'em :)
This is my first Angelfic and I started it because I love Gabriel. There was not enough of him in the show, looking at YOU Supernatural writers! How dare you!
Don't own Supernatural. Wish I did because then, I could follow the cast around and not be a weirdo-stalker.
Enjoy and please review! Don't be shy :)
Thunder cracked across Heaven, causing the air to vibrate violently and the Angels to glance up nervously. Gabriel dropped to the road as his wings quivered in the flash of Grace that pulsed through the air and after a casting a concerned glance at his feathers, he scowled. His brothers' true voices clashed harshly, a painful contrast to the melodic chime they used to be.
"What are they fighting about now?" he demanded.
"What else do they fight about?" Raphael replied wearily, walking up beside him, flexing his wings. "Keep your distance today, Brother."
Gabriel's face was still set in a scowl as he watched his brother spread his six, gray wings and take flight. The color suited the grim Archangel, in his opinion. He hissed through his teeth, frustrated with his elder brothers. The day had started off so pleasantly. He'd pranked two of the Angels masterfully, planting Bariel's blade in Ariuk's robe and causing a hilarious brawl that ensnared several bystanders. Then, when the Seraphs came to separate the fight, Bariel's blade had mysteriously returned to his sheath.
Gabriel snickered at the memory, then thunder rolled again and his mirth evaporated. Barely a day passed anymore that Michael and Lucifer didn't get into an altercation regarding Father's newest creation, Humans. Gabriel was tired of it—all of Heaven was tired of it—but there was nothing he could do and he wondered how long it would be before his brothers came to blows…again.
Suddenly, all was quiet and after a moment of cautiously anticipating the next crash of thunder and Grace, he sighed with relief.
Good, now maybe they'll sulk for a while and leave us all in peace.
He unfurled his wings and took flight before he noticed the deadly charge in the air and realized his mistake. Suddenly, the air sang with the drawing of an Archangel's blade and Lucifer's Grace exploded across Heaven in a white-hot flash. Gabriel flared his Grace to shield himself from his brother's wrath but still felt the power of Lucifer's Grace pushing against his own. If Gabriel had been his focus, the damage would have been severe.
As it faded, Gabriel opened his Grace to check on his younger brethren. All across Heaven, the Angels' Graces were flared bright in alarm but they were whole. Then, he found one that wasn't. He whirled in the direction of the dim light and horror lanced through his being when he realized it was coming from the garden where the Fledglings were kept. The garden was heavily protected, the safest place the Fledglings could possibly be and the thought that Lucifer's temper could have cracked it chilled him.
He passed through the wards, felt them press against his Grace like the sharpest of blades, testing for a threat and then he landed, his presence rolling through the garden like a tidal wave. The Fledglings froze in their games, some on the ground, some in the air, looking at him apprehensively. The closest ones backed away from him nervously. He looked around and expanded his Grace, his amber eyes flashing with protective anger and worry when the Grace he was looking for seemed even dimmer.
A Seraph landed before him and bowed slightly. "What brings you to the garden, Gabriel?" she asked softly, folding her dusky wings back comfortably.
He darted to the right, ignoring her question and came upon a lone Fledgling, collapsed on the ground, curled in on himself, his little sides rising and falling with panting breaths.
His Grace was dangerously dim.
"Hey, there, kiddo," he said gently, kneeling beside the little Angel. He reached out, both with his hand and his Grace and the moment he touched him, the Fledgling curled up tighter and his Grace withdrew into a suffocating coil, dimming even further until it looked like a candle flame.
Gabriel immediately dampened his presence. The other Fledglings had nearly fled upon his entrance, he could only imagine that this one was equally terrified.
"I'm not going to hurt you, little brother," he promised, reaching out once more, but slowly. He put one hand on the Fledgling's back and the other on his chest, turning him over gently. The little Angel's head fell back limply but his face was pinched with pain and his hands were clutched tightly to his chest. Gabriel shifted his grip so that he was supporting the Fledgling's head and briskly rubbed his chest, trying to coax him back to awareness.
"It would be Eliyon."
He shot a glare over his shoulder at the Seraph. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
The other Fledglings skittered back as his Grace pulsed angrily but their Caretaker simply looked on with an expression that was sad, but resignedly so.
Gabriel's temper flared more. "You knew?"
"No," she said.
"How could you not?" he growled and she finally looked a little nervous. "Are you their Caretaker, or aren't you, Liel!?"
"I am," she answered, straightening under his accusation. "The garden is one of the best protected parts of Heaven. I had no reason to suspect anything was amiss."
"I felt his Grace failing from the other side!" he exclaimed. He had yet to speak loudly, but his voice rippled with his anger.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Gabriel," she said. "Eliyon's Grace has always been weak—the weakest I have ever seen."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So, that makes it acceptable to just let him lie there and die?"
"I didn't say that," she protested.
"You didn't have to," he snarled at her. "You're lack of concern said it loudly enough."
He gathered the trembling Fledgling into his arms and stood, his wings half-spread in an aggressive posture. He strode past Liel without sparing her a glance.
"You would take him from the garden?" she asked in shock. "It isn't proper!"
He stopped and turned, spearing her with a menacing glare. "You would lecture me on what is proper?"
"Gabriel, please, try to understand," she said gently.
"I understand," he told her. "What I'd like to know, is when did we begin the practice of culling?"
He left the garden without another word and flew to his aerie. He tried to keep his anger in check. While he'd been speaking with Liel, the Fledgling—Eliyon—had grown even more tense under the Archangel's furious Grace.
"You're going to be alright, kiddo," he promised. He strode inside and sealed the door closed behind him. No one was going to disturb him, not even Michael and Lucifer whose fight seemed to have ended after that last flare of Grace.
Maybe Michael beat some sense into him. I know I want to.
He walked to his bed and laid Eliyon on it, relieved to find that the Fledgling's Grace had relaxed out of its suffocating coil.
"Let's spark that Grace of yours, shall we?" he said but when he tried to connect with his own, Eliyon's withdrew again with a desperate, terrified speed. Gabriel withdrew and ran his fingers through the Fledgling's shock of dark hair. "Alright, alright," he soothed as Eliyon whimpered. "Here, let's try this."
He picked Eliyon up again and laid on the bed himself, stretched out his wings and laid the Fledgling down on them, where he promptly curled into himself again. Gabriel sighed, wanting so badly to connect with Eliyon's Grace and reassure the traumatized Fledgling but knew that he could very well kill Eliyon if he pushed too hard. He contented himself with watching Eliyon, waiting for him to relax as he absorbed some of the residual Grace from his wings. The Fledgling's dark, downy wings and hair contrasted greatly with his feathers, which started white and faded into a sunlit gold. Then, he frowned at his bottom-most feathers. The edges had been singed brown by Lucifer's flared temper.
"Oh, well," he muttered, shaking his head.
His bed was suspended and swayed gently in the wind currents that passed through on their way to Earth and after a while, he began to feel comfortably drowsy. He continued to rub Eliyon's back periodically, then relaxed onto his back with a sigh.
"You've got to give me something to work with, little brother," he murmured, blinking heavily.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and felt his Grace relaxing, expanding throughout the room and with it, his mind wandered, sinking in on itself much like he was sinking into the softness of his bed. Suddenly, he felt something shift in his Grace, then he felt a tiny tug on the feathers of his second wing. Gabriel opened his eyes and turned his head to check the Fledgling, being careful not to move anything else. Slow moments passed and as he watched, Eliyon moved ever so slightly and he felt the Fledgling release his feathers, only to grasp them again more firmly. Gabriel flinched slightly at the sensation, prepared to pull himself free before he lost a handful of feathers to the Fledgling, then realized that it didn't feel unpleasant, at all. Eliyon shifted again, slowly uncurling himself and Gabriel frowned slightly as he rubbed his face in the Archangel's wing, getting past the contouring feathers and snuggling into the soft down underneath. Gabriel huffed a laugh at that and smiled to see Eliyon finally relax.
"There you go, little brother," he soothed and was relieved to see Eliyon's breathing slowing to a calm rhythm. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll figure out what to do with you."
