#he's cray

Dean grunted over the music.  Sam thought it sounded affirmative, so he decided to take it as a yes.  “Give him some new opinions and show him some different worldviews.  Obviously we can’t put him in school…”  The boy’s eyelids fluttered like he was dreaming.  Sam wondered what he was dreaming about. “But it would be good to get him some socialization besides just us.”

“Yeah.  No, it’s a good plan.  We’ll call Jody after this case, have her bring the girls over for a weekend.  Or we can go up there.  Either way.”  Dean didn’t look away from the road.  He looked more relaxed than he had the day before, one hand resting outside the window in the rushing air, the other on top of the wheel. 

There was a redness to his eyes though, a slight sniffle in his voice, that told Sam he’d been crying.  Of course, Sam didn’t say anything about it.  But this was the first time that he’d gotten that sense, and if Dean was letting himself cry, even alone and without anyone to hold him, then that was a good sign.  

He hoped.

Of course, it could have just been a cold coming on, which Sam desperately hoped it was not.  Other than a few minor colds (and a few injuries or addictions that weren’t caused by natural viruses), Sam hadn’t been laid up sick since sophomore year of Stanford, when a flu had ripped through the dorms and left one older professor dead and most of the student population sick.  Sam had been laid up for the better part of two weeks.  

That was one of the few times in school he had given in and called Dean, mostly because his friends were threatening to send him to the hospital if the fever didn’t break.  

Dean had showed up the next day, driving through the night and breaking into Sam’s campus suite, and Sam had woken up to a vat of homemade chicken soup.  

It was only later that Sam had found out that two of his workout partners had purchased the fresh ingredients when they found Dean with a pathetic can of off-brand soup, and it was the first time that Dean had actually been able to cook without John’s constant reminders of how they didn’t have the money for luxury.  His friends had demanded he invite his older brother over more often, because that had been some damn good soup.  So good, in fact, that they had eaten most of it before Sam had gotten a chance.

Now he wondered if he’d gotten Dean sick, and how John had reacted to his son being so feverish he couldn’t see straight. Probably not well, if history was anything to go by.  

He wondered what happened to his old workout buddies.  He wondered what happened to everyone in his class.  He wondered if they missed Jess as much as he sometimes did, in the darkest part of the night.

He wondered why he was suddenly thinking about it.

“So what were you dreaming about this morning?” Dean shot Sam a sidelong look. “That was some noise you made. Some might say dirty, even.”

“Dean, shut up.”  Sam shot a glare at him, immediately forgetting his fondness over the chicken soup and the flu.  “Seriously. The light just hit my face and it hurt.”

“Your face was shoved into your pillow, dude.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath so he wouldn’t slug Dean and send the car careening off the road, and then looked out the window.  

“Was it the girl from the coffee place?  I noticed you guys making eyes at each other the other day.”

Sam glanced over, frowning.  “Jeanette?  The Starbucks manager?  She’s married, dude.  She has three kids.”

“Oh, so you’re talking to the Starbucks girl too?”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. “She was asking about Jack.  I told her he was our cousin.”

Dean slowly nodded, smirking lightly.  “So you’re in there talking to her enough that she noticed when you started bringing Jack, huh?”

This was not something he was going to win, but if Dean was feeling good enough that he was picking on Sam, then Sam didn’t want to shut it down right away.  “Yes, Dean. I’m having a steamy affair with the manager at Starbucks when I pick up my pumpkin crap latte after my morning run. Which, I did not have time for this morning, because you didn’t tell us we were getting up this early.”

Dean waved a dismissive hand.  “I said bright and early, Sammy.  Not my fault you were too busy having steamy dreams about Jeanette to get up in time for your run.”

Sam rolled his eyes and, once again, looked out the window, like the endless fields they were driving through were somehow more interesting than Dean’s scintillating conversation.  

“Oh, don’t be a little bitch, Sam.”

This time, Sam didn’t look at Dean, because he didn’t want his brother to see the little smile on his face.  It was such a familiar insult that it warmed him better than a latte ever could.  “Yeah, whatever, jerk.”

 A very very long time ago (aka,the author was working on characterization and I need some scenes to help me out before I throw old pagans into the plot)

“You’re making us write poetry.”  Vali was fourteen, a skinny boy just brushing the edge of puberty, and he looked very unamused, gold eyes close to sparking. “You’re going out with Thor to hunt giants, and you’re leaving us here to write poetry.”

Loki ruffled the boy’s hair as he moved about the room, packing a bag of supplies.  This vessel was taller than normal, and he was enjoying being able to reach the top cabinets without standing on his toes.  Sigyn had chosen it, when his last one had been mauled by a wolf- or had it been crushed by a falling boulder?- and Loki had been more than happy to oblige his wife’s taste in men.  

“Poetry, Vali-lalli?  Or immortal art?”  He couldn’t find the rune stone he’d painstakingly carved for this very trip. It had taken him ages, and quite a few blood sacrifices, to get the spell quite right, and he wanted to use it to curse the giants who were going after a village in Midgard.  It was going to be hilarious.

“Dad.”  He ran his fingers through ginger hair.  “I suck at poetry.  That stupid tutor you hired sucks. All he does is yell at me to do it one way, and when I try to do it that way, he tells me it’s still wrong and I have no taste.”

He stood on his toes to reach the back of the cabinet, brushing his fingers through the dust and spider webs.  “Well, Val, I hate to break it to you, but he’s the top in the business.  Odin personally gave the guy some of his magic blood poetry mead.”

Vali crossed his arms, not appreciating that Loki didn’t seem to comprehend the suffering he was going through.  “You didn’t have to write poetry when you were my age.”

Loki froze, then blinked away images of the Darkness, of the crack of his wing breaking, of disembodied screams and his father’s barked commands.  “Nah,” he said with a laugh.  “I had a boring old upbringing in Jotunheim.  Trekked through the snow behind Laufey and hunted for my food every day.”

Rolling his eyes, Vali collapsed backwards on a chair. “Okay, Dad, there’s so much wrong with that statement.  One, we all know you’re not actually a frost giant.  And two, I’m a prince of Asgard.  I should be fighting with you, not learning how to rhyme.”

Loki glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.  

“Dad, we’re not stupid.”  Vali raised an eyebrow in turn.  “Everybody knows what a frost giant is, and you’re not one. Plus, if you were actually a frost giant, would I have wings?”

“You’re adopted,” Loki said easily, batting the boy’s head as he moved to the other side of the room to hunt for the rune stone there.  When had he gotten so messy?  Clothes, art projects from the kids, various collected magic artefacts, and other knickknacks he’d taken a liking to were scattered about, without rhyme or reason, and the stupid rune stone was buried somewhere in the mess.  “If you hate the guy so much, I’ll hire someone else for you. But you need to learn this stuff, Val-stone.”

“Val-stone?”  Vali’s expression became even more deadpan than before.

“Like gall stone- never mind.  It was funny in my head.”  Loki stepped back and pursed his lips.  “Did one of you brats take the rock I was working on?”

“Nari mighta.”  He wasn’t to be distracted though.  “Why do we have to do this poetry crap?”

He glanced over.  “You want to be a real Asgardian prince, don’t you?”

Vali nodded.  “Like Thor.”

Loki waved a hand dismissively.  “Glad for the vote of confidence in me, kiddo.  Poetry’s how Asgard passes down history.  Sorry.  If you want to be a part of the history, you’ll have to learn how to read and write it. That’s what you get for being born to the top.”

“You and Mom weren’t born to the top.”

“Your mom was pretty up there when I met her, and I’ve saved Thor’s life a few times, so I get a free pass.”  Loki shrugged, like it wasn’t his fault.  “But that means if you want to stay up here in rich luxury land, you’re going to have to study and prove to the world that you’re not just a spoiled princeling.”

“I am not spoiled.”  His eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t particularly threatening on the boy’s freckled face.

Loki laughed and whipped around to mess up his hair again.  “You’re a little bit spoiled, kid.  That’s okay. I love you anyways.”  

“Dad-” Vali groaned and tried to pull away, but Loki grabbed his arms, pulling him back into an unwanted and unrequested hug. “Stopppp.  I’m fourteen-”

“That’s what Hel says, and she’s, like, older than me,” Loki said, half falling over the side of the couch in order to bury the boy in his arms.  “Now do your poems, and I’ll bring you a present when I get back, huh?  Where’s your brother?  I gotta say bye to him and your mom before I go to Midgard.”

Vali had just gone limp, waiting for the show of affection to stop, and pointed towards the door.  “Nari’s in his room.  Studying.”  He said it like it was the bane of all existence.  

Loki snorted and ruffled Vali’s hair again before straightening up.  “You’re a good kid, Val.  Tell you what- work hard while I’m gone, and I’ll take you down to Midgard when I get back from this little mission.”

“Wait, really?”  He hopped up, standing on the couch, hair still messy.  His hopeful grin lit up the room.  “You will?  Just us?”

Loki grinned back.  “Just us.  But don’t give your mom a hard time about the schooling, alright?  You gotta do it, even if it sucks.”

He nodded.  If he’d known a trip to Midgard was an option, he would have complained much harder, much earlier.  He didn’t even complain now when Loki snaked an arm around him in a half-hug before he headed for the doorway.  “Be good, kid.  I’ll get a report when I get back.”

Vali gave him a little salute, still standing atop the couch.  Loki grinned and then left, heading towards Nari’s room, to say good bye to Vali’s better-behaved twin.  He knocked once on the door before pushing it half open.  “Hey, kiddo.  I’m off with Thor.  You good until I get back?”

Nari was stretched out on the bed, reading an old text on magic that he’d stolen from one of Loki’s stacks of books.  One of the hounds was sprawled across the foot of the bed, across his feet, chewing on a large bone that he’d stolen from some poor maid’s stew pot.  Not waiting for permission, Loki walked in and starting scratching the dog’s back. He looked up, tongue lolling, and Nari shifted at the movement, drawn from his studies.  “Hey, Dad.  Leaving?”

“Yeah.”  Loki shoved the dog over and sat down as well.  The dog abandoned the bone and flopped on Loki’s lap, like he was a lap dog and not a hundred-forty pound half-wolf.  “Didn’t I tell you to stop raiding my library?  You know that stuff is beyond your level.”

Nari stuck his tongue out at him and halfway sat up. He wasn’t nearly as athletic as Vali, tending towards his father’s penchant for sweet foods and luxury, and where Vali was always ready for the sparring fields, Nari was softer, preferring books to violence.  “Your library is a stack of books that you steal from human monasteries.  You don’t exactly keep it guarded.”

“This lump is supposed to be doing the guarding.” Loki shoved at the dog on his lap, then obliged and started running his hands over the animal’s sides.  He made a low, happy growl in his throat, entire body vibrating with pleasure at attention from the god.  “Don’t try anything new until I get back, alright? Your sister nearly started a zombie apocalypse trying to learn necromancy without me knowing.”  

“What about stuff I already know how to do?” He sat up fully, and held out his hands, screwing his eyes shut in concentration.  A flame appeared in his outstretched palms.

Loki grinned, then reached out to place his hands on either side so that their grace mingled through the touch.  The flame leapt higher, sparking different colors, sending little shoots of light and color over the wall.  Nari opened his eyes and made a surprised noise, although that was just for show.  The little flame was the first thing Loki had taught him to control, when he was almost too young to remember.

“Long as you don’t burn the place down,” Loki said, and pulled his hands back, letting the fire extinguish itself with a little puff of smoke.  “Oh, and help your brother with the poetry, would you?  He’s having trouble.”

Nari groaned and flopped backwards against the pillow.  “Da-aaad. He doesn’t get it.  All you have to do is memorize the rhythm, and he just has no rhythm.  I mean, unless he’s sword fighting, but swords and words don’t go together at all.”

Loki pursed his lips, then sighed.  “There’s a trip to Midgard in it for you if you give him a hand.”

Sigyn was going to have his head when she found out he was bribing the boys again.  

“Really?”  Nari sat up so suddenly that the dog nearly lost his balance.  “You’ll take me?  I want to see the Pyramids in Egypt- I was just reading about them.  They line up with the stars and…”

Loki had no idea what Nari was saying when he got into stars and astronomy, but he nodded anyways, doing his best to follow along. The boy was far smarter than he was when it came to the math behind things like that.  As soon as numbers were involved in anybody else’s conversation, Loki’s eyes glazed over and he started fantasizing about Sigyn, but he tried to pay attention when his kid started talking about angles.  

Because wow-wow-wow, wouldn’t it have been nice if an adult had listened to him when he was Nari’s age.  

“Pyramids it is, then,” he agreed, when Nari had explained about how they were aligned for a future prophecy.  “We should push one out of the way, mess up the math for the future Midgardians.”  

“We should not be playing tricks on people who aren’t even born yet, Dad,” Nari said, just a hint of disapproval in his tone.

“No, you’re right.  You’re a better man than I, Nari-whal.”  

“Da-aaad.”  He made a face at the name and lay back down with the book, only to be gathered up in a hug by the older god.  

“Help your brother while I’m gone,” he reminded. Nari didn’t struggle so much at the hug, but melted into it, snaking his arms around Loki to hug him back.  “The book learning doesn’t come as easy to him as it does to you.  Be patient.”

Nari made an annoyed noise, but didn’t argue. There was a journey to Midgard at stake now.  

“You’re a good kid, Nar.”  Loki released him a moment later, and then gave the dog one last pet before pushing him off and standing.  “Oh, and do you have my rune stone?  Vali said you might have taken it.  The one I was working on?”

Nari looked just a bit sheepish at that. “Oh.  I might have detonated it in the field.”

“You… of course.”  Loki sighed, shaking his head.  “How’d it work?”

“It was supposed to throw frost giants into a confusion, right?”

Loki nodded.

Nari snorted.  “Yeah.  Didn’t affect me.  More proof that we’re not actually frost giants.”

Loki raised an eyebrow.  “You’re adopted,” he said pettily, and then ruffled Nari’s hair and headed for the door.  “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad.”  He responded absently, already going back to the spell book.

Loki had almost made it to the front door, when his way was blocked by Sigyn, who looked irritated about something.  Loki solved that by sweeping the goddess into a deep kiss, crushing her body to his, one hand wandering down her back to the curve of her ass.  

She kissed him back, then nipped his lip as she pulled away.  “Have you decided how we’re going to celebrate the solstice?” she asked, reaching down to link her fingers in his so he couldn’t escape the holiday discussion. “My parents are having dinner, but I know you enjoy going to the festivals with your mother, so I didn’t make any plans for certain.  And honestly, I think it does the boys good to see some of their frost giant heritage. Even if you clearly don’t have a drop of frost giant in you.”

“Have you all been planning to spring this on me at once?”  Loki pouted, swinging their hands to the sides.  “I am clearly a frost giant.  I don’t know why everyone is saying I’m not.  Loki Laufeyson.  Laufey is a frost giant too.  Which means, I have to be a frost giant.  Duh.  Are you stupid, woman?”

She unmeshed the fingers of one hand to reach over his shoulder and run a finger down the nerve of one invisible wing.  That had been a trick she’d learned when she was pregnant with his children, being bathed in the grace of her children.  One morning, she’d awoken in shock to find that she could see the six golden rings wrapped around her, could feel and touch them, and apparently, the results had been permanent.  Now he shivered at the touch, rolling his shoulder.  “Okay,” she said cheerfully.  “So we’ll do dinner with my parents the night before, and then we’ll go to Utgard for the day of the solstice.”

“Okay, bu-uuut…”  He held up their hands, holding up one finger.  “What about going to Midgard for the solstice?”

She raised an eyebrow.  

“Family trip!  See the sights, taste the food, dance with the humans… it would be fun.”

Her eyebrow quirked higher.  

“I promised the boys a trip if they work on the whole poetry deal.”

She let their hands drop and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Loki. We talked about bribery. Remember?  You have to find a better way to motivate them, than by-”

There was a knock on the door.  

“That’s Thor, bye!”  Loki kissed her again, and then darted for the door.  “We’ll talk about the solstice when I get back.”

She sighed, leaning against the wall.  “Of course we will.”

Loki hesitated, ignoring the second round of knocking.  “Sigyn, hun, you know I will.”

She turned her back, holding up a hand for him to stop talking.  Her hips swayed as she walked back for the bedroom.  He bit his lip.

Loki hesitated, then opened the door slightly. Thor stood there, arms crossed. “You said you would be in the square thirty minutes ago.”

“And I will be there.  In thirty minutes.”  He slammed the door in Thor’s face, then bolted after Sigyn, slipping into the bedroom just as she closed the door.  

She turned to look at him.  “Perhaps I can allow you Midgard,” she mused, tilting her head and glancing back at him.  The low light of the coals in the fireplace cast her face into shadow.  “But I’ll need something in return.  After all, you are making me turn down dinner with my parents.”  

He raised an eyebrow, then stepped forward, reaching out to rest his hands on her hips.  “I think I can make you see things my way.”  

“Oh, dear husband, whatever can you offer me that will change my mind?”  She linked her arms around his neck and pouted.  

And a moment later they were kissing, leaving Thor to wait outside, until one of the boys let him in and offered him food while he waited for Loki and Sigyn to finish their discussion on where to spend the holiday.  

 In the Empty

“HELLO!  HEL-”

“Shut up!”  

It was a hiss from nearby, accompanied by a clamping of a hand over Castiel’s mouth that actually shut him up.  His eyes went wide, and he turned sharply, driving an elbow into the gut of his captor.  He heard an oof, and then the attacker kicked the back of Castiel’s knee, and he went halfway down as something leapt atop him, limbs clamping onto his body like a spider, one arm wrapped so tightly around his throat that he couldn’t breathe.

“Val, stop it!  Maybe he can help!”  It was another hushed hiss, like someone trying to shout at the volume of a whisper.

The headlock loosened enough for Castiel to look around at the second speaker, who turned out, to the seraph’s surprise, to be no more than a boy.  He looked young, all chubby cheeks and freckles, dressed in a fur lined jacket and snow boots. A twist around told him that his captor was a youth as well, this one more wiry and red haired.  The boy made a face when they made eye contact.  

“I am Castiel,” he said, plucking the boys arms off and pushing him lightly away.  He danced back to stand between him and the blond boy, a protective stance. “Angel of the Lord.  Who are you, and what is this place?”

The redhead glanced back at the blond, and Castiel had been around the Winchesters long enough to recognize when two people were close enough to wordlessly communicate.  They were probably brothers- they both had the same gold eyes. It was the blond who spoke next.  “This is the dead zone.”

Castiel glanced around at the empty blackness.  “The Empty,” he said, comprehending.  It made sense, he supposed. He’d felt Lucifer’s blade enter his body, had felt the split second of burning agony as his grace had been blown to pieces by the blow, and then he’d felt… nothing.  He hadn’t existed.  

And now he was here.

“How are you awake?”  The blond pushed past the redhead, head tilted as he studied Castiel.  “Nobody else has ever been awake here.  It’s just endless fields of sleeping angels and demons and monsters.  I don’t even know how I’m awake-”

“You kicked me and woke me up, so I punched you,” the redhead supplied helpfully.  

He shot him a glare, and the redhead grinned and shrugged.  

Castiel ignored the bickering.  “Did you wake me?”  

“No.”  The blond shook his head.  “It wasn’t us.  We were just here, and we heard you shouting.  You can’t yell here.  You’ll wake up the Thing.”

Castiel tilted his head.  “The Thing?”

“The Thing.”  The blond, who was apparently the spokesperson of the two, nodded.  “Can’t you sense it?”

Head still tilted, Castiel frowned, and reached out with his grace.  If he quieted his mind, he could almost sense it, a great entity, a rise and fall of some being’s impossibly slow heartbeat.  It was something cosmic and vast, grander than anything Castiel had sensed before, so ancient and terrible that his mind trembled to comprehend it.

Suddenly, he realized how Dean must have on their first meeting.

He opened his eyes, not realizing that he’d closed them. “I sense it.  But I need to go back.  Do you know the way?”

There was another exchange of looks, and then they both shook their heads.  The redhead’s jaw tightened in frustration.  “We’ve tried,” he said.  

“Is anybody else awake here?”  Castiel turned a circle, not worried about his back being to the dead boys.  He didn’t sense any ill will from them, though frustration and fear was loud around them, a buzz that was almost tangible.  But there was hope too- the redhead especially was tensed as he gazed at Castiel, like he was worried Castiel would bolt and leave them alone.

“Just us.”  The sandy-haired one shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at Castiel.  “And now you too.”

That was odd, to say the least.  What allowed these two random boys to remain awake when everybody else slumbered on for all eternity?  “What are you?”

“What?”  That was the redhead, who looked a bit offended by the question.  

Castiel offered a reassuring smile, though it felt more like a grimace.  He didn’t have the gift with children that Dean did.  “I mean, you can’t be human, if you’re here.  I don’t sense anything human about you.”

“Oh.”  The redhead glanced at his brother, and who nodded imperceptibly, and then looked back at Castiel.  “Half Aesir, half Jotunn.  Not human. We’re gods.  I’m Vali Lokison, and this is my brother, Nari.”

Castiel froze, then opened his mouth, closed it, and then tilted his head.  “Lokison,” he repeated slowly.  “As in, the sons of Loki?”

Nari and Vali exchanged looks, and then Vali said, “Duh. Until…”  He glanced at Nari, then back at Castiel.  “Until we were killed.”

Half archangel then, not frost giant, which explained why they had the power and strength to stay awake, though apparently they didn’t know the truth.  Castiel looked at them again, this time paying more attention to the grace filling the two vessels.  Sure enough, now that he was looking for it, he could sense Gabriel’s grace within them, that same bright energy that sparked with curiosity and irreverence.  “I know your father,” he said, then corrected, “knew.”

And then he turned another circle, casting out with his grace.  “He should be here somewhere, as well.”

“Shut up!”  Vali grabbed his arm, and Castiel felt the boy’s grace make an attempt to stamp down his own.  “If you start poking around, you’ll wake up the Thing.”

“I want to find your father,” Castiel said, looking down at him.

His eyes narrowed.  “Dad’s not dead.”

“I’m sorry, but he is.  He was killed a few years ago.”

Vali let go of Castiel’s arm, his brow creasing.  “What?  That’s not possible…”

“We haven’t been here more than a month.”  Nari stepped forward, head tilted, and then frowned. “Unless time moves differently here. If time is even a concept here…” He took a deep breath.  “Dad’s dead too?  Loki Laufeyson.  You’re sure?”

Castiel nodded.  “I’m sure.  He died in an attempt to stop Lucifer from ending the world.  He was a hero.”

Of course, it hadn’t lasted long, and Lucifer had killed Castiel, and now the Nephilim needed him, and he was stuck in the Empty, apparently in the company of Gabriel’s two dead children.  He needed to get back to Jack and Dean and Sam.  And now he didn’t want to leave the boys, because even if Gabriel was on his own, permanently dead, Castiel didn’t want to leave the children behind to rot here.

Vali opened his mouth, confused, but it was Nari who next spoke.  “Why was Dad fighting Lucifer?”

“That’s a long story…”  Castiel glanced around.  “I’ll tell you when we get back to the earth.  But I was friends with your father, a long time ago.  He was more involved with Heaven and angels than you’d expect-”

“We know he’s a Nephilim,” Nari said, eyes narrowing. “Officially, he’s a frost giant, but everybody knows that he isn’t.  We just don’t know who his parents actually were, and he and Laufey wouldn’t tell us.  But it makes sense.  Angels aren’t supposed to have children, so he went into hiding, and made friends with Thor.”

Castiel paused, head tilted.  “No…” he said slowly, impressed that they had deduced so much.  “He’s not a runaway Nephilim.  He’s an archangel.  Gabriel.”

Vali pressed his hands to his mouth to stifle a loud laugh.  “No, Dad’s definitely not an archangel.  Archangels are badasses, and Dad’s definitely not as cool as Thor.  And everybody knows Gabriel is dead.  He was killed ages ago.  We learned about it in history.  He was destroyed during Heaven’s civil war.”

Castiel gave them a long look.  “I was close with your father, back when he dwelt in Heaven,” he said, and only felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t realized the pressure Gabriel had been under from the other archangels.  Maybe, if even one angel had shown Gabriel a bit of support, he wouldn’t have left… “I need to go back to Earth now though.  I have a task I need to finish.  Stay with me, and I’ll do my best to bring you back as well.”

They glanced at each other, and then Vali gave Castiel a defiant look.  “How are we supposed to know we can trust you?”

Castiel hesitated, trying to think of a reason for the boys to actually believe what he said.  “Your father was the only angel I knew who ate on a regular basis,” he said, going for the only obscure thing he knew about Gabriel (that had nothing to do with porn).  Hopefully it still held true for when the boys knew him.  “And all he liked were sweet things.”

They glanced at each other again, and he knew they’d been hooked by the twin looks of recognition.  “That drives Mom crazy,” Vali said a moment later.  “She keeps telling him he’s going to rot his vessel from the inside out.”

It was an odd feeling, hearing them talk about Gabriel in a context that was the complete opposite of talk in Heaven.  To hear these two boys casually say Mom and Dad, referring to incredibly powerful beings, one of whom had no business having children. To hear that Gabriel not only had a wife, but had a wife who nagged at him about the sugar habit, something so domestic, so human…

He wondered if it had been a mistake to trap him in that circle, and make Gabriel return from where he’d been buried under the guise of Loki.  

And then he shook off the thoughts, because it had been necessary at that time, Loki had a habit of killing people, and Castiel didn’t have time to be considering the past right now.  He needed to get back.  

“You said nobody else is awake here?” he asked, looking between them.  

They nodded.  “Just us,” Vali confirmed.

Castiel nodded, and closed his eyes.  “Then I’m going to wake up the Thing, and make it send us back.”

a/n: this fic is getting out of hand tbh I have done more research for this than all my classes put together this semester