Only an angel could kill another angel. This was truth. Castiel knew this in his vessel’s very bones—he supposed he ought to call them ‘his’ now, hanging as he was from the roof of Malachi’s torture chamber.
Power like this? Too old, too powerful. It can only be given in union, or taken. And you’re not strong enough to take it from me. And that had been true, at the time. Even now, with Castiel diminished, it was truth. None of his brethren would unite with him to give him the power he needed to survive, so he had to take it. So I give it to you. There would be none to force the power he needed upon him.
Castiel had no options.
It seemed the only reason he saw Anael for, nowadays, was business.
The last time Gabriel saw Anael had been a riot. He had been sipping a sex-on-the-beach, in shorts and a flowery shirt, in the middle of a particularly busy street in Oslo—he still had a soft spot for the adopted people of his surrogate family—while passers-by sneaked glances at Gabriel, wondering how close to crazy he was. The waiter of the café(an animal torturer) had already brought him his capuccino. And probably hoping to God Gabriel wasn’t diabetic, because the amount of candy wrappers piling up on his outdoors table was looking a bit alarming. Especially with the glances that lady with a pram (a jaywalker) gave him.
O, he had felt her coming. In addition to being just plain old common sense, it was only polite to announce herself when approaching a volatile archangel, lest she go SPLAT!.
‘Gabriel’, she had said, while wearing an unassuming young woman with a messy braid of wheat-coloured air.
‘Hey, sis. Wanna have a cup of coffee? I’m sure we can have that thing you fancy’.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have time for that’.
‘I came for one of my rainchecks’.
‘You know I’m always up for a night of debauchery, darling’. He was all archangel and more than half pagan. He had leered at her vessel. ‘Although… Maybe I can doll you up a little, beforehand, sweetheart’.
He had snapped his fingers and Anael stood before him, wearing hotpants and a Hooters top that was struggling to keep in check her vessel’s assets. In the middle of autumn. Maybe that was why people had kept looking at them as if they were mad.
‘I was thinking more Dr. 90210, and less ‘peeping-tom gal’, Gabriel’, she stated, miffed.
‘But, Annie! Those are purrrrrrrrrfect’. He just continued to gesture at her body.
Then she had snapped her fingers, and showed him a full-body picture of a cheerful redhead.
‘I want my face back. Miracle me away, archangel’. There was just the barest hint of hostility under her blank face. He missed the old Anael, the one who had reveled in Creation once. This one was just creepy.
‘Come onnnn. What am I, a freaking transmogrifier?’
‘Yes. Yes, you are’.
Then he had smiled, got it over with, and bedded some guy he couldn’t turn down—humans were so much fun! It’d be a sin to reject a six-feet-tall Nordic piece of ass (a car thief only that one time), and he would know, he was The Judge1. Boy, had the guy got a fun~ surprise when Gabriel had bent him over!
And now, she stood before him with a wannabe intimidator attitude. “Got a lot of spunk, this one!”, he thought. (In all fairness, it was hard to intimidate the guy who saw her be born).
‘’Sup, babe?’ He lowered his sunglasses and smiled. ‘Can’t a guy hang out in the beach without being bothered nowadays?’
‘I need your help’.
‘Ah, back for another ride’. He sat himself up slightly in the sand, his body weight resting on his hands. ‘I’m offended, I tell ya. Women these days only want something from you’. Anael managed to look impressively peeved with just a blank expression. ‘Alright, so what do you need?’
‘I need you to charge a spell up for me. I don’t nearly have enough power’. She produced a folded sheet of paper, and handed it over.
‘This is an array of power. And quite an interesting one, too’. He stood up, hand on his hip. ‘No’.
‘No? Gabriel, you owe me—’
‘I owe you nothing. I won’t charge a bomb to kill off our brethren! Can’t you understand the whole point of being neutral?’
‘You are only neutral because I choose to keep my mouth shut about you playing dead’.
‘That’s what happens when Thor gets drunk and runs off his mouth. My plan was perfect’.
‘You’re too stubborn. I see your adopted dad rubbed off you. I’m trying to end this! All of this!’
‘Anael, are you even listening to yourself? You’re going to get yourself killed!’
‘At least I’ve something to die for!’ She scowled. ‘I remember a time when you were a warrior’.
Gabriel laughed and laughed and laughed. ‘Annie, sweetheart, I was never a warrior. Merely an overpowered executor’.
‘Fine’. The redhead nodded, in goodbye. ‘You won’t have any more company. And if I’m the first to fall, so be it’.
‘You’re already Fallen. And, apparently, insane enough to go human and back again’.
‘Gabriel’. She looked at him with immense sadness. ‘I don’t understand you’.
‘Just because you have no ties to the Host, doesn’t mean I remain unchained. And that’s precisely why I keep my distance’.
‘You shouldnt’t assume so quickly the rebellious are unshackled’. Gabriel was suddenly reminded of how much time Anael had spend as a human, because, for a moment, intense grief contorted her face before her features smoothed out; all placid and blank and lovely. ‘I should go’.
‘Hey, hey’, he was at her side, with a warm hand on her shoulder. ‘Why the long face?’
‘You don’t care’.
‘Of course I care about you, baby sis! C’me on, once more with feeling. For old times’ sake.
‘You think you know everything but I still… The Host…’ She sighed. Gabriel was sincere as his hand touched her, reaching out to her core with his Grace. ‘Don’t even bother. You won’t save me, and you won’t even save the dearest to me’.
‘I’d save you! Just leave the nonsense fight, tell me how I should tie up your pretty angel sib and we good to go. And you know casualties are pretty much unavoidable’.
‘Then I cannot abide the deaths of my brethren for their nonsense fight. And, no; you wouldn’t be able to tie this one down’. Gabriel felt his interest piqued. ‘Castiel will die soon, just as I will’.
‘What—! No. He’s doing alright—he’s still on Heaven’s payroll’.
‘He’s disobeying. He will be declared Fallen’.
‘What do you even care about him! And—you’re wrong’.
‘He is to me as Raphael was to you!’, she shrieked. ‘And he doubts, Gabriel—doubts’.
Gabriel dismissed her concern. ‘He’s always had doubts, I think. That’s why he’s one of the few half-decent ones!’
‘I talked to him recently. I tell you this, older brother: Castiel will die. He’s weaker than me, and he’ll burn through his Grace like a shooting star falls down, and then he’ll be an abomination and Heaven will dog his steps and kill him because they won’t abide a Garrison captain off his leash for long’.
Since then, Anael had dropped off the map. He wasn’t too worried, but he was well aware she was trying to undermine Heaven. He suspected the small rise in angel killings was thanks to her, and tried really hard not to be mad at her (it wasn’t working).
He was also trying to locate Castiel, for at least his peace of mind. Gabriel just had to find Doomed and Dumber, and Castiel would be found easily—of course, the little piece of shit just had to find a way to keep the main actors off the map. It wasn’t as hard as he expected. The Idiot Duo were following along major apocalyptic signs, being led by the nose—Gabriel was surprised at how well it was working. Castiel was there, still on Heaven’s side, as expected. His Grace looked healthy and radiant. He wasn’t planning on presenting himself anytime soon—as far as he was concerned, Anael was the one who should be concerned, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care for an angel he didn’t even see be born. (He was still his little brother and Loki was always a good liar).
Gabriel wondered if he should approach Castiel.
(In the end, he decided against it. More trouble than it was worth, and he didn’t want to worry over Castiel’s pretty little head. He was alright, and Gabriel was right).
“I made a mistake”.
Anael had been right.
He had heard a vow, triumphant and final, and full of faith, transmitted to all angels, that left him unsettled and full of grief.
I CHOOSE OUR FATHER.
Castiel had died.
Lucifer had escaped.
Somehow, those two facts were related.
“What a waste”.
Which was why he was absolutely gobsmacked when Castiel stepped into his illusion world; Castiel looked dim even as his vessel retained his serious face. It had been too easy to banish him while he tried to get the damn Winchesters back on track. He had a brother back; and, wow, his deadbeat of a Dad couldn’t be bothered to bring back all the other ones (and the æsir2 wondered why the fuck he liked Odin so much).
Which brought him to his current quandary: Castiel was dying, and he had less and less power to spare. Even with all his cynicism, he still had gotten Castiel back, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. And he wasn’t about to prove Anael right and suffer a brother massacred. “If only the featherhead wasn’t trying to stop the whole thing”.
He worried, worried a lot: While the little angel had proved himself more canny and imaginative than he could’ve hoped, it wasn’t rational to think two lone angels and two idiot humans could ever hope to stand against the might of Heaven and Hell combined.
Castiel, however, was every inch of his multidimensional self a true warrior, managing to survive despite the odds. Gabriel still did his tricks, but now they were half-hearted attempts rather than the colourful bursts of creativity he was infamous for. It was hard to be imaginative when his Grace couldn’t stop shuddering for every swansong of his felled siblings. And Castiel was reaping their siblings to oblivion as fast as selling hotcakes. He shouldn’t have been as impressed as he was by that.
“Only an angel could kill another angel”, Gabriel reminded himself quietly. Castiel would stop being an angel soon. He was Fallen. He would die. And Gabriel would be alone again.
And yet, Gabriel was overjoyed, for he wasn’t alone in his love of, in his Father’s Creation anymore.
Gabriel’s life sucked.
“I need a plan”.
Simple was best.
He went and acquired some basic spell supplies to do a very simple tracking spell. He, being the archangel Gabriel, knew better than anyone that to track Castiel’s physical presence was futile, since his little bro was warded to Hell and back.
(He was only forced to do this after he realised Castiel wasn’t doggedly following the Winchesters anymore. His archangel powers were fun, but pagan magic was more easily applicable, since it was worldly).
He sat on a floor. The smell of nicotine lingered on the empty nightclub, with its orderly stacked chairs and gleaming glasses hanging upside down for the next night to come. There was no light, but Gabriel had senses beyond that of sight. He had a bowl of water, a little mead, some yew to improve his luck3, chalk, the biggest world map he could find, and salt. He sprinkled the water with salt, and mixed it with mead, blessing it in his pagan name. The water shone briefly, as it rippled.
‘I am Loki Sky-treader’, he spoke in his adopted tongue. He grabbed the chalk, and started writing Enochian, cramming up the space around the map with tiny, tiny writing. He couldn’t locate Castiel himself, but he could follow the ripples Castiel’s very being caused with his displacement, thanks to the rogue angel’s base code. ‘And there’s no place I’ve not seen that an angel could be. In Miðgarðr along the paths I’ve walked, where is the angel that smiles on the day of The Loud Rider?’
He poured the water over the map; the liquid shone as if flames danced inside of it. The excess water bypassed the map without soaking it, pooling around it without touching the paper, and the light faded to sparkles until it was just webbed lines wetting the map’s surface. Some lines were thick and others thinner (and fading), and there seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to it at all.
“You gotta be kidding me. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?” He stared hard at the spell components and scratched his chin. “Maybe it was too arrogant to use my other name?” The paper was criss-crossed. “It was the yew, wasn’t it?” The map almost had looked like a labyrinth of interlocking paths…
‘Paths! So it did work’ Gabriel snapped his fingers and the mess disappeared. ‘Castiel is just moving around too much’. He straightened. “Does he have a death wish!”
He probably was falling over tired right now. “That’s the damn problem with martyrs—too fucking happy to keel over dead”.
‘So the spell worked. Very well, in fact’. Thus, the question remained…
“How do I make it more potent?”
The answer, as it turned out, was right in front of him all along.
Thus, he closed his eyes to feel the presence he was looking for, and flew to Maracaibo, with a wide grin on his face.
‘Hey, Þórr. How’s tricks?’, he greeted the thunder god outside of his cozy home. His adopted brother was on a rickety rocking chair with a book on his lap and Mjöllnir by his side.
‘Loki’, he acknowledged, while a lightning storm raged above them.
‘So I need help with a spell’.
‘Loki, you’re older than our father. In any case, for spells you should get him or Frigga’. Thor looked extremely sceptical. ‘Rather than pulling my leg, why don’t you answer me why your thrice-damned níðings4-brothers of yours are blasting everything to Ragnarök and back?’
‘Ah. Yes. That’. The thunder god caressed his hammer under Loki’s nervous glance. ‘Um. It kind of is Ragnarök?’
‘No, wait. Better question: How do you know it’s my biological family?’
‘Loki, I like to think I’ve spent enough centuries being pranked on’, Thor scoffed and looked indescribably fond, ‘that I know you guys can shut down any plot of the rjúfendr5 any day. Or at least those older brothers of yours’. Thor closed his book, and rested his fierce eyes on his. ‘What do you need?’
At Loki’s predatory smile, Thor made a beleaguered expression. Loki snapped his fingers and a syringe, a rubber tube, and a vial appeared in front of Thor, neatly peacked inside a case with a big, red cross. ‘Your blood’.
‘No’. Loki pouted, and Thor just glared.
‘So what if I told you it’s to locate my little brother who’s kind of in the resistance?’ Thor looked mildly interested, but raised his eyebrows. He almost didn’t listen to what Thor said due to the constant lightning.
(Of course, Gabriel had no intentions of preventing the Apocalypse. Plus, as Loki, he felt extremely happy he was pulling one over Thor again).
‘Thanks for being understanding’, Loki chirped, tucking the vial of blood in the inside of his snazzy two-piece. ‘Nice house, by the way. Although, if you had to come to South America I pictured you more in the Andes, maybe? Snowy-land’.
‘I fancied a tropical change of scenery. And I feel at home here. Powerful’.
‘Yeah’, Loki looked at the eternal thunderstorm raging6. ‘I can see why. Thanks, bruh’.
Thor dismissed him with a hand, and Gabriel flew to Los Ángeles. He was in much better spirits and, since he felt like Judging, he sensed the good, the bad, and the repulsive in people. He nodded at a middle-aged man (a shoplifter) who gave him way. “Maybe I can play a little”. He hummed, skipping with each step until something caught his attention.
A nice-looking brunette walked down (a xenophobe), with a very interesting necklace7—definitely one of the more wayward of the faithful. “I suppose even with Þórr’s blood, better safe than sorry and get insurance”.
‘Hey, there’, he called out and put on his best charming smile.
‘Hey’, she answered, a bit wary.
‘Do I know you from somewhere?’
‘Uh—excuse me. Who are you?’ She was springing, as if ready to run, and not unjustifiably so.
‘Your god’. Eyes dark, Loki looked her over.
She let out a nervous giggle, unnerved by Gabriel’s visage, and smiled tightly. ‘I think you’re confusing me with someone else. Have a nice day’.
‘No, I don’t think so’, he replied with a cold look in his eyes. He shoved her against a showcase window, gripping even tighter her shoulder at the same time he grabbed her cheek and made her see.
She gasped; her body was like a ragdoll against the glass of the display, falling promptly to her knees. Her bruised knees brought tears to the corner of her eyes that shook her from her stupor.
‘Oh my God’, she breathed from the floor, slowly rearranging herself so as to prostrate. She never looked at Loki’s eyes, merely to the floor.
‘Loki! I’m so sorr—’ Gabriel jerked her head to tilt it upwards, put a finger to her lips and helped her up. She seemed terrified of him.
‘It’s OK. I just need you to do a little something for me’. He slung a hand over Ada’s shoulders. ‘And maybe you can even get a nice blessing out of it, who knows?’
Gabriel was excited. This time he was in a nice hotel room, with tall windows and a nice breeze coming in; too bad the décor was ruined by the corpse looking emptily at him. He could already feel the power thrumming in the room, and all he had done was the same as before, but with an extremely detailed world map painted with the blood of the heart of a believer. Black magic, yeah, but a very good spell-booster.
“Insurance never hurts”, he mused. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, when a doubt assailed him: “Am I taking this too far?” He looked at the girl and remembered all her penances. “Nah, they’re all gonna die, anyway. Let Dad sort them. And she should have known better than to tangle with the Lie-Smith”.
He cleared his throat. In one hand he held the bowl with the holy watered-down mead, and, on the other, the open lab vial with Thor’s blood. He poured the mead solution over the map, while muttering the improvised chant he devised. Then, he said:
‘Life-liquid of the thunder god’, he proclaimed as he let the blood fall to the map, ‘point me to Castiel!’
“Oh, I’m good”. He observed eagerly as the blood made a fading trail, and encircled an area. It was rather large, but he was an archangel. “Southern Guangdong. Well, Cas dear is certainly not boring”. He spread his wings and flew, searching.
Castiel’s presence seemed to be lingering, slight as it was, but he managed to pick up a slightly better track (he loved having archangel senses), leading him to a beautiful green area in the middle of bustling Zhanjiang8. Gabriel saw Castiel, even before he was line-of-sight: There he was, walking down a beautiful white bridge with his coat flapping in the wind, under a grey-clad sky.
‘Nice view, eh, lil’ bro?’ He was kind of disappointed when the only change of expression Castiel deigned to do was to pack tightly his wings against his back. ‘What are you doing here?’
Castiel never stopped walking, even as he turned his head slightly to regard Gabriel. ‘Don’t’.
Gabriel bristled. ‘I’ve gone through all this trouble to see you and that’s all you have to say?’
‘Are you going to help us stop the Apocalypse?’ Gabriel scoffed. ‘Then, yes, that is all I have to say to you’.
‘Someone’s grown a spine’, retorted the archangel, peeved. ‘Anyway, so I might as well accompany you, since I came and all that’.
‘I’d rather you not. It’s none of your concern’.
Gabriel grabbed Castiel’s shoulder violently, and made Castiel face him, angrily spitting: ‘No, you see; I really think it’s my concern. Because I care when you’ve been behaving like a really, really stupid angel’. Castiel had been but moments from flying away. ‘So you better pay attention and listen, bro’. He shoved the younger angel against the lamp post. ‘Either you manage your resources, or get some more power’.
Castiel closed his vessel’s eyes, tensing. ‘I can’t do anything against being Fallen’.
‘I know’. Gabriel smiled at the nervous glance he directed at the archangel, peering behind his eyelashes. ‘I don’t want you to die’, Castiel breathed in sharply at his admission—Gabriel pretended he didn’t know how much that had hurt, ‘so I’m going to teach you a lesson, and you better learn it well’.
He put one of his hands over Castiel’s cheek, almost tenderly, which then moved and covered the other’s mouth, and said a short Enochian chant. It was used for unruly angels who didn’t want to leave their vessels; although Gabriel tweaked it, since he only wanted to bring Castiel a little bit out of his mortal shell. He shuddered. It had been literal millennia since he was even this close to his brethren. Castiel’s Grace tickled his hand.
‘You need strength’. He brought his own Grace forth as he spoke. All of a sudden he grabbed his hair and yanked Castiel down, forcibly kissing him and latching onto Castiel’s Grace, making Castiel’s vessel thrum when Gabriel, for the briefest of instants, filled him. ‘Power like this? Too old, too powerful. It can only be given in union, or taken. And you’re not strong enough to take it from me’.
‘What is your point?’, Castiel managed to get out between gritted teeth. ‘I know I’m diminished’.
‘Yes. That’s a bit of an inconvenience. I suppose we’d have to do a little trial run to see if you can handle me at first’. He pressed his body against Castiel, aggressively kissing him again, dragging Castiel’s scant Grace out more and more. Castiel groaned in pain; if the sensation could be likened to anything from a human perspective, it would be as if someone inserted meathooks in a clavicle, and then dragged the still-living body by the meathooks. Castiel couldn’t even move from the lamp post, pinned as he was by Gabriel’s power. Loki’s cloying presence hid them both from the watchful eyes of Heaven. Castiel’s wings attempted to flutter over the unwanted feeling of both their presences.
Gabriel’s hands moved down Jimmy’s chest, tearing open the white shirt. His mouth was a warm, wet weight that moved down the vessel’s neck.
‘No’, choked out Castiel, with a blank face. ‘Gabriel, no. Please don’t betray my trust this way—I thought you cared for all of us!’
‘Try not to worry’. Gabriel was started to feel aroused, despite himself. He nuzzled Castiel in a way he thought reassuring, struggling internally to maintain his own vessel’s breathing even. He paused and put a hand over the vessel’s shoulder, moving it in circles, softly, dearly. Castiel looked at him with derision. The corners of the rogue angel’s mouth twitched, as if Castiel was deciding whether to speak or not. Ever stoic, Castiel remained silent.
“This vessel is handsome”. He caused Castiel an unwanted gasp when he trailed his hand very slowly to the small of the salesman’s back—his little brother hadn’t discovered all the mysteries of his vessel yet. Gabriel hungered.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’ The angel’s voice rang clear, with just the slightest undercurrent of defeat.
‘Well, baby bro, in the old days, were we in Heaven, we’d just match up amplitudes, uniting, and calling it a day’. Muscles tensed down the pathway of the blond’s hand, as one of them went down Jimmy Novak’s trousers. The hot flesh slowly stiffened under his caresses. ‘Thing is, I doubt you got enough juice for even a manifestation of your true self in a coherent manner. So we need to unite in another way. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh9’.
‘I don’t want your power’. Castiel stood, defenseless with just a torn shirt over Jimmy Novak’s form. The rest of the clothes were in a pile by his feet, completely intact.
‘Tough luck, bucko’, he said, his breath ghosting over Castiel’s lips. ‘What I say, goes, so I give it to you; and you’re going to take it so you can live’. His hands cupped the vessel’s rear.
He was so hard. “This is an angel”, his Grace whispered. Despite all of Castiel’s wards, he could feel the younger angel’s Grace he had almost ripped out. It had still the whisper of Heaven Castiel must have clung to in desperation, still echoing with the collective voice of the Host; unlike his, since he himself had purged it of every last tie to Heaven but his feelings. The waning Grace pulsed as he yanked Jimmy’s shirt off. He hadn’t felt his brethren for so very long… And this was a very attractive vessel.
‘I’d rather have your sword’, Castiel plead desperately, a last call to arms, let out between the grunts he gave as Gabriel ground his clothed erection over Castiel’s bare one.
‘Oh, yes’, Gabriel’s eyes gleamed, ‘you’re going to get ‘my sword’, alright’.
The next thing Castiel saw was the placid green water, the stone rail uncomfortably pressed against his vessel’s stomach while a hand fisted his hair to keep him bent down. Castiel felt Gabriel’s hand slide down the back of the body he wore; the older angel’s hand felt cold and clammy; its slicked fingers pried that entrance open, at the same time some kind of feeling coursed through the vessel’s skin. Castiel moaned wantonly, a heat spreading from his insides wherever the fingers reached, even as his wings arched and flapped desperate to flee.
‘What did you do to me?!’
A bit of the border of the stone rail crumbled under the strength of Castiel’s grip, for all the good it did for him. He shivered; his laboured breaths underscored the effort he went through to do away with the sounds. In Castiel’s otherwise blank face, the only concession to his breathing were his lips, slightly parted.
‘What did you do to me?’
Gabriel groaned at the sight: Magnificent wings arched with every sorry beat; his trembling brother bent and completely at his mercy, vessel slightly flushed in sensations Castiel was just getting to know from his hand buried inside. And Castiel, Castiel looked at him over his shoulders, his sight demanding answers. The tight heat wouldn’t let his fingers part, making it difficult to stretch his brother, rising Castiel’s Grace in futile anger. He delayed for as long as possible the answer to Castiel’s question.
‘Just a little something to make it easier, baby bro’. The hand of Gabriel that was his on wind-swept black hair had travelled down to Jimmy’s cock, making Castiel grunt and buckle from Jimmy’s muscle memory. ‘This body you’re strutting is, ah, untouched there, and there’s only so much I can do to get around that. It’s not permanent’.
Castiel’s Grace trembled with confusion and fear. Gabriel could feel it, the only other heavenly presence within his reach. Oh, Gabriel hungered for Castiel’s company so very much. He no longer had trousers. He raised Jimmy’s leg like a dog pissing, exposing his nether regions to the air; Gabriel’s arm rested under the knee joint and was supported by the bridge rail, and his other hand helped sheath his cock into a very tight heat. Castiel let out a distorted wail, between a sob and a very pleasing moan.
(Gabriel should have felt bad about that, but he was all archangel and more than a half pagan and he had forgotten what a power trip it was to have someone under the full weight of his godhood).
Loki nipped the back before him, licking, sucking hard; leaving angry red in his wake. Red that promptly vanished, unlike the bruises his free hand was making on the angel’s hips. Castiel would never admit it, but it was torture. It was torture as the hand on his side crept to his vessel’s abdomen, and it was torture when the hand played with his vessel’s navel. Not once did Castiel shout, but he did cry with despair when he tried to wrench Gabriel off him and found he couldn’t move from his position. Loki’s power was like a sickening vice around him. His inhalation stuttered when Gabriel’s hand went right past the cock and stroke Jimmy’s perineum, easy to reach thanks to his vessel’s risen leg.
Gabriel thrust, aggressively and unforgiving, as he seared Loki’s mark on Castiel’s wings. With each movement, lascivious, quiet whimpers came unbidden from Castiel’s throat; the only true sounds Castiel permitted himself were sobs drowned in disgust, until he let out a cry and filled Gabriel’s hand with semen. Gabriel turned him around so they were face to face, Jimmy’s slender leg over Gabriel’s shoulder; Castiel was forced thus to rest his weight on his hands. The sight a spent Castiel made was like an aphrodysiac to Gabriel.
Gabriel shivered in immense pain as he ripped apart a little bit of his Grace. He tried to place a light kiss on Castiel’s mouth, but Castiel turned away his face, so Gabriel only kissed a corner. Gabriel’s telekinesis whipped around Castiel’s head, and he tried a deep kiss.
“Now’s really not the time to pull a Lucifer and be rebellious, Castiel”, Gabriel complained mentally. He was so close. With one hand he forced Castiel’s mouth open, repeating the Enochian chant for good measure and earning himself a yelp from the younger angel’s lungs.
Gabriel kissed Castiel, deeply and filthily, causing Castiel to lose strength in the leg that supported his weight, as he enclosed Castiel’s Grace in his. It was too much—Gabriel came, and grew soft inside of Jimmy Novak’s body. Finally, he separated, leaving a chunk of Grace behind Castiel could maybe use to survive.
And then they were both dressed and clean, as Gabriel smoothed down the lapels of Castiel’s overcoat.
‘There you go’, he said to Castiel’s extremely inexpressive face. ‘Try not to get killed, ’K?’ Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Gabriel’s hands. ‘Oi! Face up here’.
‘You marked me. Like cattle’.
‘Well, yeah. I need to be able to track you down to see if it worked out at all, although I’m pretty confident it…’ Castiel held his breath, and let it out very slowly.
‘Very well’, the black-haired angel nodded stiffly. He turned to extend his wings and fly away before he thought better of it and turned slightly. His eyes bore into Gabriel’s.
Castiel’s hands were trembling.
A few weeks had elapsed, so it was enough time to see if he hadn’t killed Castiel by accident. This time, Castiel was in Rub’ al Khali10, walking alone in its sandy vastness. He set down foot in front of Castiel, wings shimmering under the desert sun, contrasting with the orange sand.
‘What are you doing here?’ Castiel regarded him very carefully, chapped lips pressed into a thin line.
‘Suggestion of an afrit11’. Gabriel looked at him as if his vessel had grown a second head. And then he started to grow angry.
‘Are you even trying, Castiel?!’ Castiel went more rigid than a wooden plank, at the same time his wings flanked him, as if they were trying to hide him from view. ‘What the actual fuck! You stink of Famine!’ He got close and brushed those pink lips with his thumb, scowling. ‘Stop being so reckless!’
‘I don’t have the luxury not to be reckless, assbutt’.
‘Whoah, there. Be careful with what you say’. Castiel’s wings seemed to close even more around his vessel.
‘Is this my check-up?’ Castiel balled his hands in fists.
‘Yup! Glad to see you didn’t die and all that’.
‘Success was not assured’. It seemed Castiel understood his situation better than Gabriel gave him credit for.
‘On Earth? Eh, still better than your odds right now’. Castiel nodded reluctantly, conceding the point. ‘And, by the looks of it, the extra grace was pretty damned useful! You should be glad; you could be dead! Or worse!’
‘Is this what you tell yourself to sleep better at night, Gabriel?’, snapped Castiel. Gabriel averted his eyes, but retorted:
‘Would you have done it had I told you from the start!’
Castiel hesitated for a heartbeat. ‘I wouldn’t have believed you. And probably would have fled’.
‘Exactly my point’.
The archangel was about to fly to somewhere else, fed up with Castiel already, until his little brother spoke up: ‘Nevertheless’, and here he took a shaky breath to steady himself, ‘you’re right. We should finish’. Gabriel was speechless. ‘My own fading seems to have slowed down, but I run through the borrowed Grace faster’.
‘Oh, yeah. Forgot they do that’. Castiel started to take off his overcoat, when Gabriel stopped him. ‘Don’t be so eager, tiger. Here? In the sand? Trust me, baby bro, you do not want sand in your bits’.
‘We may as well get this over with, seeing as last time you didn’t have a… performance problem in the bridge’.
Gabriel snapped his fingers.
‘At least let us do it with style’.
A big tent, white, tall and ridiculously spacious, appeared. Gabriel gestured for him to follow, and Castiel complied, uneasy. Inside, the floor was covered with soft carpets and the eerily-lit insides were draped in red and violet cloths; the cadre of women inside milled about, with huge veils draped over their heads that left the face and the neck exposed, over long-flowing trousers—they wore no shirts, the veil’s huge cloth covered them like a poncho.
‘Master!’, the one to Castiel’s left enthused. ‘Master, give us your shoes’. A quick glance revealed Gabriel, already shoeless, was rolling over a heap of soft pillows and silks, a construct waiting on him with a tray of Turkish sweets.
‘Come on, Castiel! Let them pamper you’, grinned Gabriel from his messy bed. ‘Unless women don’t exactly float your boat…?’ He snapped his fingers, and half of the constructs became handsome men. Same attire. Gabriel just bared his pearly white teeth while Castiel scowled.
‘Either is fine’, he stated flatly, allowing himself to be led by the woman to a corner where there was a carved chair, in which Castiel sat down. A man knelt down with a washbasin, and removed the angel’s shoes and socks; he took out a soaked cloth and lovingly cleaned Castiel’s feet. A woman approached him with a handle-less metal cup of tea.
‘Go on, take it. Your lips look awful’.
Castiel side-eyed Gabriel; nevertheless, he took the warm offering and stood so a man could take care of his coat. When he drank, he let a small gasp of surprise at the taste. He eagerly drank more, ignoring Gabriel’s chuckle at his reaction.
Gabriel watched intently as male and female hands tugged at Castiel’s clothes and bared healthy, slightly tan skin. He cupped his crotch, already hard at the thought of Castiel, of his mouth on the younger angel’s skin. Gabriel knew he shouldn’t be so eager; that he should be on his knees begging for Castiel’s forgiveness like the angel he was—the whole situation ate his insides—but he couldn’t care enough to actually do it, not when there was a mark on his wings naming Castiel as Gabriel’s—Loki’s—drawing Gabriel to Castiel like a moth to a flame. Especially not when he got naked in the trickster god’s presence.
Gabriel took all in as the constructs scrubbed the younger angel, bathed his hands in softening oils, and changed his clothes. He stood there, a changed man, with a loose deep-blue shirt and dark purple trousers. ‘You look like a prince’, complimented a bright-eyed man.
“He does”, agreed Gabriel in his mind, congratulating himself in choosing pieces of clothing that made the eyes of Castiel’s vessel stand out.
‘And that’s how you should look all the time, instead of that ill-fitting suit’. Castiel glowered at the praise, but sauntered over to Gabriel and sank down to Gabriel’s side. Gabriel could smell the sandalwood fragrant oil the constructs had dabbed lightly on Jimmy Novak’s body; wrapping it in a tasty package for Gabriel’s delight. He licked his lips. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel.
Castiel hovered over Gabriel’s face. And kissed him. It was a resolute movement; Castiel dipped his head to meet Gabriel’s lips, and Gabriel kissed back enthusiastically. He was pleasantly surprised when he deepened the kiss and Castiel responded in kind. Gabriel moaned loudly. He wanted to keep those lips close to his, and so he grabbed roughly Castiel’s hair to keep him there. ‘You shouldn’t do that, you know’. His arm went down Castiel’s back and forced the younger angel to be pressed to his chest. Castiel’s Grace lit up his eyes, already making his presence felt without needing to be dragged out. Gabriel ravished the other’s mouth thoroughly, feeling out Castiel’s Grace. While his Grace meet eagerly with Gabriel’s, it was only a thread—reluctance. Dread. They went past the point a simple human would need to breathe.
‘You do not want this’, whispered the archangel.
‘No’. Castiel started unbuttoning Gabriel’s shirt. ‘How could I, brother?’
How could he, indeed.
Gabriel couldn’t answer.
Castiel moved a laggard hand down Gabriel’s chest, until it rested over his clothed hard-on. Just the act made Gabriel arch his back and hiss. ‘You don’t have to do this’.
‘I have no options!’, sneered Castiel, pressing down on Gabriel’s crotch jut the right way; for the hand of Castiel was an all-scorching warmth cupping his nethers and it ripped a pleasured scream out of Gabriel’s lungs. ‘If you won’t help me, and yet have etched on my wings—sullying me, then at least give me this’.
‘I’m not your personal power dispenser!’ Gabriel threw Castiel off him, and stood. Castiel rolled with the throw and ended up sitting on the floor with his knees apart, a pose not unlike that of a Japanese man in the same situation; but not submissive at all, given Castiel’s snarl.
‘And I’m not your slave!’
‘You have lots of guts, I grant you’, spat out Gabriel, turning his back on Castiel, and starting to head for the entrance.
‘When I couldn’t recognise the marks on my wings, I had to do a little research’, Castiel called out, voice dripping with spite. ‘You marked me with old pagan magic, Loki’. Gabriel turned his head jerkily, drawn in by an invisible force. Castiel was shirtless. One of his forearms was bleeding; Castiel had used his wound to dab his right hand’s fingers in it. His wings were displayed submissively with Loki’s sigil for him to see, Elder Futhark runes12 ran down his chest brimming with pagan magic, and then Gabriel hitched a breath as Castiel completed the fourth one in front of his very eyes. The Falling angel spoke, switching languages to Old Norse13. ‘O, Loki’, Castiel prayed—prayed, ‘I beseech you to come and—’
‘Don’t—don’t finish it. Do you have any idea what that does to me?’, Gabriel let out in a ragged voice. He couldn’t stop himself from walking. ‘Fuck’. The runes called him; he couldn’t help but answer. And he hungered so very much for the brother he could feel lighting up Jimmy Novak’s eyes. ‘Fuck’.
Castiel let himself be manhandled by the already naked Gabriel, who threw him in the pillows where he had previously lain, and straddled Castiel’s hips. He was already hard, his cock stained with precum the stomach of the body below. Castiel’s vessel was very slender, and so very bruised in the shoulders from the way Loki clenched them. Castiel didn’t even squawk.
He bent down and bit Castiel’s neck, licking and sucking until there was a pruple splotch on the very base. He ran down his hands over the markings of Castiel’s wings, and admired his handiwork: Hidden from all eyes but his and Castiel’s, and guiding him to Castiel. Protecting Castiel. Claiming Castiel. The rogue angel let Loki feel up his wings with his vile presence, runes shimmering wherever his hands went. Feather-tips teased Castiel’s skin, carefully, all over him; from his lips, to his lidded blue eyes, to the places his skin hurt. And Castiel squirmed, face never changing. Sometimes he gave the most tender touches to Gabriel’s face and arms and torso, and Loki rewarded him with slight kisses.
His fevered kisses went down his brother’s chest, taking care to avoid the bloody runes, while Gabriel’s own wings attempted to encompass the ones much larger than his own. When his mouth arrived over a nipple, the pagan god paused, and made sure to make eye contact with Castiel. He then took the dark offering in his mouth, grazed it with his teeth, and made it blossom rosy-tipped under his enthusiastic care when he heard a mute gulp of air from his reluctant brother. He played with the vessel’s nipples some more until he grew tired of it, and drew his attention to the magnetic-magic-made-bloody-offering. Castiel, with his right hand, ran fingers through his hair. He lapped eagerly the blood flowing from the wound in Castiel’s left forearm, tracing the wound, sucking on it, cleaning the left overs from elbow and back to the skin breach again. It was offered as a sacrifice to him. Gabriel—Loki—was in ecstasy. With a light tap of his fingers, he healed the wound.
Gabriel ran his hands down his younger brother’s hair, breathing in the shell of his ear. Castiel hummed in his throat, but otherwise didn’t react beyond a grim expression, at the same time Gabriel moved so he was between Castiel’s legs to disappear the purple trousers. The young angel was already half-hard and leaking precum. Gabriel couldn’t help but lick his lips before he fisted the rogue angel’s dick, trying to coax it completely awake, while Castiel’s hands caressed his waist.
‘Gabriel’, Castiel bit out. Gabriel acknowledged Castiel by humming, but he was otherwise distracted trying to smell where in the body under him were the spots the sandalwood smell emanated from. ‘Do what you did to this body last time’.
‘Uh?’ Gabriel was brought out of his reverie by the rogue angel’s strange statement. He understood what the other meant, but… ‘Why?’
‘Because’, Castiel drawled, ‘I dont’t want to have to think about this’.
Gabriel flinched. He still obliged, his might whispering changes along the nerves; the difference becoming readily appparent when Gabriel massaged Jimmy’s testicles, for Castiel whimpered and arched his back, chest going up and down heavily while his eyes shut tightly. The archangel lingered over the runes on Castiel’s chest, the whisper of magic tugging at him. The sacrificial offering made his mouth water, all red and fresh over the skin of a brother that came in an appealing package. Loki wrestled Castiel’s hands in one of his and then made a show of licking the runes, bathing himself in the witchcraft that called him like a siren’s song.
The trail didn’t stop at the place where the last rune had been, he continued it; Loki left Castiel’s hands free so his own hands could appreciate the perfect hipbones, Castiel’s small waist, so he could brush the spot in his thighs near Castiel’s groin that made the rebellious angel throw his head back and hitch his breath just so… He left Castiel unencumbered so he could see Castiel arch and grasp and moan like the wanton whore his brother asked the archangel to turn him into. He kept crawling over Castiel until he blowed a waft of cool air over the erection in front of him. Castiel groaned; Jimmy Novak’s balls fell heavy and overstimulated. The vision he presented made Loki want to hear him more. To have more access to the intimate parts of the radio ad salesman’s body, he made Castiel’s legs flex, and spread them more.
Gabriel licked the side of the shaft, enjoying the whinge Castiel made, and then engulfed his cock completely, sucking hard. Castiel screamed with desire and tried to push deeper into Gabriel’s mouth, but the deity’s hands stopped him, grabbing Castiel’s hips so tightly they would leave purple marks even the rebel angel wouldn’t be able to erase for days afterwards. He made sure to play with the tip before taking in the whole length again. Castiel wailed when the archangel stopped his ministrations just when he was about to come.
‘There, there’, Gabriel patted one thigh sympathetically. ‘It’ll be over soon’.
‘Just get it over with’, mumbled a tired Castiel.
Loki threw Castiel’s thighs over his shoulders, and slid in at once. They were both so close it wouldn’t take long. Castiel arched beautifully.
Castiel’s blue eyes gave way to a white light; Gabriel, in the meantime, hunched over in pain as he shredded his Grace—his very being went from whole and perfect to scraggly and chaotic and primal… The rhythm of the two bodies slowed down and the two angels opened their mouths, until a silver wisp, strong and bright, entered Castiel’s mouth. Castiel convulsed. ‘Gabriel!’
Gabriel winced, silencing Castiel with his mouth. He held him firmly until the convulsions subsided. The rogue angel was tired and overstimulated, so one last filthy kiss was all he needed to stain both their bellies, exhausted from bearing the brunt of the new Grace. While Castiel had enough of his own Grace to withstand Gabriel’s now tainted Grace, Gabriel had given him too much in one go by means of an imperfect ritual. Gabriel felt vaguely guilty it hurt (he wanted Castiel to live at least until the end of the year). The black-haired angel just laid on the silks. Sticky with cum, sweaty, panting, exerted, and pale; Castiel looked like the very picture of depravity.
Loki couldn’t resist, he might as well violate the offering made to him thoroughly. With renewed, but brief vigor, he thrust harshly, and Castiel hissed in pain just rocking his hips and gasping with each thrust Loki made. Soon he finished making use of his brother’s vessel, coming from his high.
He slipped out from Castiel’s insides, who just shut his eyes tightly and contorted his face briefly before letting out a shudder of harsh breathing. Gabriel laid beside Castiel. Castiel glandered at his older brother, and tried to get out of their bedding, but Gabriel stopped him with a strong arm, pressing his chest to Castiel’s back.
‘Gabriel’. The sound that came out was almost a keen. He continued, in a broken voice: ‘I pray to you, brother; don’t do this to me’.
‘And I beg of you, please don’t leave me alone’. Gabriel caressed with his wings the markings he made in Castiel’s own. ‘Do you know’, he whispered against the nape of Castiel’s neck, inside of which their Graces mingled like it as they’d have done in a Heaven they would no longer have, ‘how long I’ve been without my brethren?’ He nuzzled Castiel’s shoulder, inhaling sandalwood. ‘Millennia hearing the calling I couldn’t heed?’ Castiel stiffened. ‘You feel it too, I know. Come on, lil’ bro’.
Gabriel hugged Castiel tightly, and one of Castiel’s hands posed himself over Gabriel’s forearm. And, if anything betrayed Castiel’s relaxed countenance—like his laboured breaths—Gabriel pretended not to notice.
Castiel waited for whoever of his brethren was his custodian in this dungeon, eyes still closed to seem asleep. His true form was nearly nothing, so who knew what would do to him that much Grace he had to take? Nevertheless, he had determination.
So when Theo walked in, Castiel steeled himself. And, as had been done to him once, he betrayed.
Castiel was always a good student.