to make belief
“There’s just something about Dean Winchester.”
*
(1)
It was always you!
Even as he shouts the words, Gabriel knows they are a lie. The rest of heaven may have forgotten the truth, if the murmurs he’s been picking up on the angel antenna are anything to go by, but Gabriel isn’t just any angel. He’s the Archangel Gabriel, Messenger of God, one of the oldest beings in existence.
Heaven may have convinced itself that the Winchester brothers are destiny in persona, that the apocalypse is inevitable [they’d be right] and Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man who begins it, is the only one who can finish it [a-and right again, only that’s a truth that doesn’t hold up to closer inspection any more than monopoly money would in a supermarket, good times—].
But Gabriel has spent the last several thousand years on Earth, mingling among the best and brightest and worst and shoddiest of Daddy’s favorite kids.
He’s seen mothers murdering their own children, grown men and women destroying heart, spirit and soul of their own kind — has witnessed strangers sacrificing themselves so that another may life, watched little boys and girls defend their siblings to the death.
The truth is, for every time Loki finds an irredeemable scumbag to take his frustration out on, he runs into another soul just as dark that manages to surprise him. It’s been centuries, and he still finds himself caught off guard by them. Spur-of-the-moment decisions, unexpected kindness, solidarity that, by all rights and reason, is based on nothing. Humans tumble over these spectacular, foreign concepts with impossible regularity, made all the more astonishing by their utter lack of any real understanding of the world around them. It’s bizarre.
And if Gabriel hasn’t managed to adjust to them yet, after all this time, what hope does the rest of the Host have of making two of humanity’s most stubborn specimen dance to their tune?
That’s a rhetorical question. Or at least it should’ve been. Despite humanity’s wonder — it’s terrible flaws — despite its free will, they are so ridiculously fragile. Breaking them is a matter of moments, if you were to put your heart into it.
[Gabriel was there when Lucifer broke his first human. Father knows, he wishes with all his might he could forget, but he hasn’t. He’s seen them fall long before he’s seen them truly rise.]
All else aside, Sam and Dean Winchester are unforgivingly human and their free will means nothing if Heaven decides it tires of waiting for a catastrophe it can’t escape. That much Gabriel knows, even if the kiddies haven’t realized it yet.
Dean Winchester meets his eyes, hazel brightened by the blinding light of his soul — Father, you really outdid yourself with this Righteous one, didn’t you? — gaze searing and tearing through Gabriel’s grace, words cutting through his bluster like only a fellow bullshitter can.
And Gabriel knows better than to bet on an underdog so ridiculously outclassed there aren’t even comparisons for him to draw up. Knows better than to throw in his lot with humanity in a fight where they aren’t even a side, can’t hope to amount to more than collateral damage. Knows better than to think that Dean Winchester, the Michael’s Sword, the man who held on longer than anyone gave him credit for, could somehow fix this mess his Father’s Plan has led to.
[He still broke in the end.]
If anything, the sight of the Righteous Man, here, now, so close towards the end, should reaffirm Gabriel’s faith in Father’s Plan, the Host, his brothers and sisters, who could never be strangers for all the time that has passed since he last saw any of them. And yet.
This isn’t about some prized fight between your brothers! Or some destiny that can’t be stopped!
Dean Winchester’s soul burns bright enough to hurt and, for a single moment, Gabriel can almost believe.
[Gabriel has lost faith in Heaven a long time ago.]














