#scruff's stuff

Part 1 (no Ardeth, yet)

“Alexander Rupert!” The frustration in your voice was tempered by the fact that you were panting.  And leaning against a crumbling statue for support.

“Uh, I can explain!” The sandy-haired boy held up his hands in surrender and slowly began to back up towards the tunnel he’d just exited.

You growled as you pushed yourself up and started stalking towards him.  “No, you can’t.”  You gripped his shoulder harder than necessary and maneuvered him back towards the entrance of the temple.  “Do you hate me or something?”

“No!  I don’t hate you!  Why would you think that?”

You eased up on your grip and sighed.  “I know you think I’m no fun when I make you stay put, but kid,” you stopped walking and squatted down to look him in the eye. “I’m here to make sure you stay safe on these digs.  That’s what your parents hired me for.  And if I can’t keep you where they told us to stay and you get hurt, they absolutely could fire me and leave you at some boarding school when they travel.”

“They wouldn’t!” He immediately wrapped his arms around your neck, gripping you like you’d vanish in front of him if he didn’t.  “You’re part of our family.”

You sighed again and returned the hug.  “Even if they didn’t, I would be absolutely devastated if something happened to you.  Because you’re my family too.  Ok?”

You felt him nod against your neck and pulled back.  You tousled his hair as you stood up and he immediately scoffed, putting a grin on your face.

“Come on, Alex,” this time, you held out your hand and he took it, letting you lead him back to the temple.  “I think we should continue working on your engineering lesson.”

“You remembered the cheese this time?” He looked at you skeptically.

You pulled a wadded handkerchief out of your pocket, opening it slightly to reveal the wedge.  “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Once you had made your way back to where Rick had told you and Alex to stay, you went to your bag and pulled out the schematics Alex had completed before you’d left London.  Looking over them, you had to admit the kid was brilliant, and while a lot of it was due to his parents, you took pride in having at least a small part in it as your role as his governess.

Of course, a typical governess would be teaching the child in the comfort of a home, but you’d jumped at the chance to take on a job that would allow you to see and do more than spend your days in a stuffy room teaching from a boring text.  

Not to mention, giving you the built in excuse to avoid dresses of any kind.  Something your time as a nurse didn’t allow.

And, you adored Alex, the whole family, really.  Even that ridiculous uncle of his, once he’d learned that you wouldn’t tolerate him attempting to charm you.

You just wished Alex would stay put, once in a while at least.

“Alright, kid, here’s your plans.”  You handed him the papers.  “I’ll gather the materials, and you start building.”

“I’m going to need sticks, and twine.”

“I’ll go get some sticks.  There’s twine in my bag.  And don’t even think about using the pocket knife to cut it until I’m back.”

As he started stacking bits of broken pottery that were scattered around the room, you dropped the cheese on the ground next to him and headed out of the temple.

You were on your second run for more sticks so Alex could “build a better mousetrap” when you heard horses approaching.  Alarmed, you dropped everything and dashed towards the temple, skidding to a halt just as three armed men stalked through the entrance.

“Damn.”

This wasn’t the first dig-site you’d been to with the O’Connells where others had turned up.  Most of them had been armed with some sort of weaponry, but all of them had excavating tools.  These men didn’t, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

No tools meant nothing good.

As quietly as you could, you snuck in behind the three men, your eyes frantically searching for Alex.  You were able to draw in a shallow breath once you spotted him hiding on the scaffolding.

“Knock, knock.  Anybody home?”

You locked eyes with Alex just after sneaking behind a statue.  You pressed your finger to your lips, probably unnecessarily.  The kid wasn’t stupid, but his nod helped to ease a miniscule amount of your fear.

If only you could get to your bag and grab your pocket knife--maybe that would ease a little more.  Unfortunately, even after one of the men left, there were still two guns between you and your knife.  And really, what good would a knife do against one gun, let alone two?

Options.  You needed options.  You needed something.  Anything.

Maybe, if you could get closer to one of the tunnels leading further into the temple, you could draw the men towards you and give Alex a chance to run for it.  

Not the best idea, but if it kept him out of harm’s way…

Holding up two fingers, you mimicked a slingshot, then pointed at the men.  Alex nodded again and slowly pulled the item out of his pocket.  Once he was ready, you counted down with your fingers.  

As soon as the man cried out in pain, you darted towards the next statue over, tensing up behind it when you heard the cocking of a gun.

This was it.

Except, no shot came.

“This place is cursed.”

You rolled your eyes.  Sure.  Cursed by an eight-year-old.

You gave it a couple of minutes for them to get distracted by more of the pottery before you chanced peeking out from your hiding spot.  You caught Alex’s gaze, nodded towards the men, then counted down.

He hit his mark and you made your run, only to hear Alex let out a laugh.  It was short and quiet, but you still heard it.  And if you heard it, the men probably did too.

Damn it!  You were so close to the tunnels, maybe one more statue, and you could make it and lead them away.

Forcing yourself to swallow your fear, you waited another few minutes, hoping the men would get sidetracked by more ancient items and forget if they’d heard anything.  You gave Alex the countdown and hoofed it as fast as you could.

“I’ll take care of this.”

Your fear rushed back, tenfold, and you felt the room begin to spin.  They must have spotted you.  Except, looking around the statue, they weren’t headed in your direction.  Instead, they were heading straight towards Alex.

You were left with no choice.

You ran towards the tunnels, not caring about staying hidden.  “Over here, you bastards!”

Alex’s gasp at your profanity would have been comical if this wasn’t life-or-death.

“You get her.  I’ll get him.”

No no no no no!  They were both supposed to follow you!  You had to think fast!  Except, the sound of yet another gun cocking left your mind completely blank.  Running was your only option--you couldn’t save Alex with a bullet in your brain.

You led your pursuer down a tunnel, trying to remember the turns you were making, hoping you could double back and intervene before the other man got to Alex.  As soon as you saw an alcove, you ducked into it, praying that the man would rush by you.

“Come on, sweetheart!  I won’t hurt you none if you just show your pretty face.”  

Finally, after what seemed like years, he was past your hiding spot.  As quick as you could, you hurried back the way you came.  In your hurry, you slammed up against the wall, the thud echoing.  Gunfire, and the sound of bullets ricocheting off stone, followed.

“Damn it!”  Shaking off the pain from your collision, you kept moving until you were back in the temple.  You spotted the other man, knife between his teeth, attempting to climb up the scaffolding, just before the man who had originally departed came running into the room.

“Spivey! Jacques!  Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The man who had been chasing you immediately took heed.  “Come on!”

The man after Alex slid down the ladder he’d been climbing and kicked one of the scaffold’s support beams before following after.

“Alex!”  You ran to try and keep the entire thing from falling, but you miscalculated, and pulled too hard on the wobbly structure.  

“Watch out!”  

The scaffold swayed in your direction, and you moved to try and avoid having it fall on you.  “Jump!” you screamed at Alex, holding out your hands to grab him.  He fell into your arms, hard, knocking you backwards into a pillar.  The force of your hit toppled the pillar, starting a domino effect of each pillar knocking down the next, all the way around the circular room.

“Wow,” Alex breathed as you set him down.

“Your mom’s going to kill us.”

Before you could stop him, Alex ran to try and keep the last pillar from falling.

“Alex!  It’ll crush you.”  You ran after him, tackling him out from under the pillar as it collapsed into the wall, knocking a giant hole into it.

Water immediately rushed into the room and you and Alex shared a look of bewilderment before turning back to the sudden flood.  The two of you looked at each other again, even more confused, when Alex’s parents washed up at your feet.

“Mom, dad.  I can explain everything.”

You smiled ruefully, knowing exactly what would happen when they learned just how close to danger their son had been.

“You see, there were these men--they were bad men, and ______, she tried to lure them away from me, but only one of them followed her, and the other one came after me when I hit one with my slingshot, and then they all ran out and ______ caught me but I knocked her into the pillars and it’s my fault we broke the wall.”

Evelyn and Rick looked up at the two of you, identical looks of…something…on their faces.  You couldn’t tell what was running through their minds.

“Are you two alright?” Evelyn finally asked as she pushed herself up, a little squish sound with every movement.  “Either of you hurt?”

“I’m ok, mom.”

“What about you, ______?” This time, it was Rick who asked.  He was still on the ground, looking completely exhausted, his hands clutching onto some sort of box.

“I’m so sorry, I really thought they both would follow me, but they didn’t and I had to double back and--”

Rick held up a hand to silence you.  “Alex is fine.  Are you?”

“Oh, um…yeah.  Peachy.”  You offered your hand to help him up.

He grabbed it, making sure you saw him roll his eyes as he hoisted himself to his feet, putting minimal weight on you.  “Let us know if you start feeling less than…’peachy’ and we’ll see about calling a doctor once we’re back in London.”

“I’m so glad you’re both alright.”  Evelyn wrapped the arm not used to hold her son around your shoulders.

You stiffened slightly in surprise.  They weren’t going to fire you?

“And you, young man,” Rick pointed at Alex, who made a show of gulping, “You owe ______ an apology for sneaking off from her earlier.  If we have to pay her extra for chasing after you, it’s coming out of your allowance.”

“Aw, dad!”

Just like that, you were back in the hideaway.

No time seemed to have passed, even though it felt as if you’d been gone for years, Chuck’s unwillingness to care weighing heavily on you.

“Gabriel.”

Would he know where you’d been?  Would he be able to read everything that had played out between you and God just by looking at your face?

You needed to save him from that.  Even if you knew the world could be destroyed at any moment, you couldn’t let on to Gabriel.  He didn’t deserve that.

Quickly, you worked to force the weariness from your face and your thoughts.

“Gabriel?”

You frowned at the lack of response.  Wandering around the house, your frown deepened with each room you looked in without finding him.

“Come on, Gabriel, where are you?”  Uneasiness began to take hold.  Chuck had dropped you back to when he’d first picked you up.  Right?  “Seriously, dude, where are you?”

Had Gabriel realized you were gone from the hideaway?  Was he out looking for you?  Was he freaking out at the thought you’d been snatched out from under his nose?

“Man, I’m home. Where the hell have you gone?”

You took a deep breath.  There was no point in panicking.  He probably just needed some space.  You were, after all, a source of concern for him, even more so with the mark on your arm.  Maybe he just needed a break from the stress it had to be causing him.

“Could you just...I don’t know...let me know you’re OK?”

Silence was the only answer.

Slumping down in your chair, you tossed down the book you’d been attempting to study, something about the lunar cycles of werewolves.  You’d only gotten as far as the first chapter, pausing every few lines to glance around, hoping to see Gabriel poof back in.

“Fuck, Gabriel, it’s been hours since I got back.  Where the hell are you?”  You ran your hands through your hair in frustration.

Gabriel, please.  I’m sorry if I upset you or if I did something wrong.  I know you’re mad about Amara and whatever she’s doing to me, but please, can we talk about it before you just bail?

You blinked, and suddenly, the table in front of you had a crack in it.  You were sure it hadn’t been there before.  Tentatively, you reached out and ran your fingers across the wood.  That was definitely new.

“What the--”

A soft whoosh drew your attention and you scrambled out of your seat.

Gabriel?

A chill ran down your spine as you looked down. The chair you’d been sitting in began to color and age in a matter of seconds.

Gabriel?! Something is really fucking wrong right now!  I really need you to be here because I am freaking the fuck out!

And just like that, the safe haven Gabriel had given you began to dissolve around you.  Colors faded and lights dimmed.  The furniture seemed to melt into the floor beneath your feet.  The walls morphed into iron bars that were enclosed around you.

“No!” You screamed--the last time something like this had happened--

Gabriel, please!  I think Metatron--

“Really, ______.”

The put-out southern drawl had you spinning around.  There, just beyond the prison cell you were now trapped in, stood a man you’d never seen before.

Was this a new face Metatron had created?  Was he a different angel sent to torture you?  

But no--Gabriel had saved you.  Right?  He’d broken in through a sigil.  He’d been wearing cowboy boots so you’d know it was really him.  Or...What?

Didn’t he usually start singing to you when your nightmares got this vivid?  

But Sam and Dean usually showed up by now to save the day.  Except...no.  Dean was a demon.  And Simba and the circle of life.

What the fuck?

Couldn’t you just wake up and go back to your job with Tom Hiddleston, sorting mail and pigs’ feet and laxative brownies?

The man’s chuckle caught your attention from your whirling thoughts.  “The fragility of the human mind never ceases to amuse me.”

“Gabriel--”

The man smirked, nodding his head for you to turn around.  Slowly, you looked over your shoulder.

“No!”

Bloodied and broken, Gabriel was chained to the bars of your cell.

“What did you do to him?”  

You were at Gabriel’s side in an instant, never having moved so fast before in your life. Your fingers immediately began tugging at the chains, as if, by some miracle, you’d be able to free him.

“I simply do not understand how you put up with humans for so long.”  

He seemed to be addressing Gabriel now, so you ignored him, choosing instead to focus on trying to release Gabriel’s bonds.

“The audacity, thinking a human could set you free from the chains I’ve created.” He tsked. “Take a good look, my dear.  Those chains are engraved with very powerful spellwork.  There’s no way for you to remove them.”

Fuck.

Growling at your ineptitude, you finally looked up at Gabriel’s face.  Fear and pain filled his eyes.  But it was his mouth that filled you with rage.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” you snarled at the man, lunging in his direction.  “Why the fuck is his mouth sewn shut?”

“Language, ______.  There is no need for such foul language.” He shook his head.  “I merely needed to keep him contained.”

“Contained?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Let me see if I can put this in a way your simple, human mind can understand.  Gabriel here, is an archangel--”

“I know that, you fucker.”

“And as such,” he continued, ignoring your outburst, “the vessel you see before you is not his true self.  His true, angelic voice could easily call out, alerting others to his distress and attracting actual help to rescue him.”

He just smiled when you glared at him.

“I need to keep him contained in order to...how do you humans say it...tap into his abilities.  With the use of that spell work on his chains, I can harness his power and use it as my own.”

“How did you know where to find him?” Gabriel was supposed to have been hidden.  He’d told you that no one else knew where his hideaway way.  Had you done something to alert this southern-fried fuckface to his whereabouts?

“That’s not very nice, ______.” He gave you a disapproving look.  “But it wasn’t difficult.  All I had to do was follow the trail.  God picked you up right from his doorstep.”

Fuck.  He knew about God?  About the conversation you’d had with him?  Did that mean Gabriel knew?  Did he know what his dad thought about him?

You spared a guilty look back at Gabriel but he couldn’t meet your eyes.  In that moment, you knew he knew.

“Mother fucker!” You tried to claw at the man holding you captive, wanting to strangle him for everything he’d done to Gabriel, but he took a step back, just out of arm’s reach.

“Yes, I suppose I have been, a few times or so.”  He laughed at your confusion.  “Forgive my manners, ______, I haven’t properly introduced myself.  I am Asmodeus.”

Demon of lust.  What the fuck?

He sneered. “After I realized who you were, it was a simple case of disguising myself as you to get past Gabriel’s defenses.”

“But...but he and I...I mean, we aren’t…”  If this guy was the demon of lust, how did he...

He cocked an eyebrow.  “Perhaps.  But the angel does care a great deal about you.  I’d go so far as to say he loves you.  Would do anything for you.  Even if it wasn’t actually you.”

It had to be a trick of the light.  There was no way you were looking at...at yourself.

“What the fuck did you do to him?”  Please, fuck...no.

“Relax, ______. I didn’t touch your precious angel.”  Your face was gone and you were, once again, looking at Asmodeus.  “Not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.” His laugh made you sick to your stomach. “Just convinced him I was you.  Wasn’t hard to trap him after that.”  He shook his head.  “The only thing I didn’t account for was that pesky mental connection you have with him.  If it hadn’t been for you praying to him, the spell would never have broken and you would have simply gone on believing he’d abandoned you in his little safe house.”

What did that mean?  What was his plan here?  What was he going to do with you now that you knew what was going on?  And did you really know what was going on?  All of this rang very familiar to what Metatron--

“I suppose I could torture you now.  Gabriel has been quite difficult to manage when you thought you were still safe, watching you look for him, hearing you call to him.  He tried to respond, really he did, but the cat apparently had his tongue.”

Fuck, you wanted to tear his face off.

“Maybe I could use you as leverage to get him to cooperate a little better.” He snapped his fingers and you were slammed back against your cage.  

“Shit,” you groaned, pain slicing through your body.  You would have collapsed to the floor if it hadn’t been for the jangling of chains.  Instead, you looked over to see Gabriel pulling at his restraints, trying to lunge forward, but you couldn’t tell if he was trying to get to you to help or to Asmodeus to rip him apart.

“I’m not sure that will work, though.  He’s still got too much fight in him.”

Another snap of the demon’s fingers sent your sprawling, your face connecting with the hard ground.  Tears sprang to your eyes and the blood in your mouth clued you in on your broken nose.

“I’d have thought finding out Daddy didn’t love him would have been enough to break him.  But no.  For some reason, you have given him some sort of hope to cling to.” He spit the word out like it left a nasty taste in his mouth.  “If I want to break the angel, I’ll just have to do away with you.”

“Ha!” You struggled to push yourself up.  “Metadouche tried.  I can’t die.”

He grinned, like he knew something you didn’t.  “Oh? Didn’t you hear? God’s back, ______.  And he set the prophet list to rights.”

“No--”

“Goodbye.”  He lifted his hand and snapped.

And then, there was nothing.

***

***

***

So, I think that’s the end of this fic.  With the show having another prophet, this one would have to be gone.  I’ve tried to keep this fic as parallel to the show as possible, so, here is where the prophet!reader’s story ends. 

Thank you so much for reading!  Hope you’ve enjoyed this wild ride

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“Comfortable?”  

You looked around, surprised to find yourself in your childhood bedroom.  “Why are we here?”  Now that he no longer had a grip on you, you quickly scrambled to your feet.

“Figured it’d be easier for you if you had some familiar things around you.” He shrugged, sitting down on the edge of your bed.  “So, about what my sister’s been telling you--”

“Are you...are you really God?”  This guy couldn’t be capital G-God.

The man in front of you sighed and snapped his fingers.  Bright light flooded your senses again, drowning you in sensation.  Life whirled around you, from the moment it snapped into existence until this very moment.  Angels.  Garden.  Flood.  Wars.  Famine.  Apocalypse.  Falling.

You clutched your head, the burning onslaught made it feel like it would explode at any second.

Then it was gone.  And you knew.

Your arms dropped.  “Oh my--”

“Chuck.” He leaned back against the headboard, bringing his feet up and crossing his ankles.

You cocked your head to the side.  “Huh?”

“Chuck.  Think of it as my stage name.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.  

Chuck.  God wanted you to call him Chuck.

“Fine.” You drew in a deep breath before looking at him again.  “Chuck, God, whoever you are.”  You squared your shoulders, trying to quell the fear gnawing at your gut.  “Can you just--can we not do this here?  My parents--they have a speed-dial for Metatron, and--”

He smirked.  “You had the vision.  You know he’s human.  There’s nothing he could do to you now.”

And there it was.  The anger was back.  “Now?  Where the fuck were you when he was doing all that shit to me before?”  You ignored the burn from your arm.

Another shrug.  “Around.”

“That’s your answer?  You were ‘around’?  An angel was pretending to be you and...and he…” Fuck, you couldn’t even say it.  Even when you knew he knew exactly what had taken place, you still couldn’t find it in you to voice it.  “...all because you put my name on some fucking list and you were just ‘around’?”

“I was busy.” He folded his arms across his chest.  “Besides, you had Gabriel--”

“Yeah, Gabriel.  My best friend who I sometimes still can’t fucking look at because I still see his fucking face in my nightmares.”  You wanted to vomit, just thinking about it.

“______, I know you’re upset--”

“Upset? Ha!” You threw your hands up.  “You created language.  Try digging into your thesaurus.  There’s probably thousands of words to describe everything I’m feeling right now.  Upset is just the tip of the fucking iceberg.”

“Look, it’s in the past.  Can’t change what happened.”

Your jaw dropped open as you stared at him.  How could he be so callous?  How could he not care?  “Why?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Why did you put my name on your fucking list?  Why me?”

“You were working in a mailroom,” he scoffed.  “Your life was boring.  You were going to wake up every morning, sort mail, then go home just to repeat it all until you died.  What kind of life is that?  You should be thanking me.”

“It was my life.  And maybe it wasn’t glamorous or full of adventure, but it was mine.” You pointed emphatically at yourself.  “And it was safe.  And I had friends, and a family who actually gave a shit about me.”

“That doesn’t make for a good story, ______.”

“A story?!”

In your mind, you saw Chuck sitting behind a computer, typing away inside a dark, cluttered home.  Then you saw a younger version of Sam and Dean Winchester a few feet away, and then, Castiel.  Winchester Gospels.

The realization hit you between the eyes.  “This...this is all...it’s all for a book?”

He smiled, lacing his fingers behind his head, looking proud of himself.  “Pretty compelling, right?  The ‘chosen one’ gets captured and tortured by an angel, but then gets rescued and winds up reevaluating everything they’d ever believed because of the posttraumatic stress.”  He sighed, dropping his arms back to his sides.  “I’d thought about easing up on the flashbacks, but then I realized, with you being female, it wouldn’t work.”

“The fuck?”

“Mary-Sue.  If you’d gone through all that and hadn’t displayed any sort of PTSD symptoms, everyone would just see you as a Mary-Sue.  Because apparently, standards are different if your character is female.” He rolled his eyes.  “I’ve seen how they tear apart Mary-Sues on those internet sites.  Didn’t want that happening to one of my characters.”  He shrugged.  “Didn’t realize making you so angry would open you up to my sister’s influence.”

Your stomach seemed to drop to your feet right about the time it felt like your heart was pounding in your ears.  Everything you’d been through, every ounce of pain that Metatron had inflicted on you, and every nightmare you’d woken up screaming from...it had all been because of a story.  “I--I’m not a character in some fucking story.”

“Sure you are.  Everyone is.  I mean, yeah, sometimes, my characters do some things that surprise me--even you.  Convincing Gabriel that humans deserved kindness--I didn’t really see that one coming, especially after Elysian Fields.”

Fuck.  That meant… “You knew?  You knew what Gabriel did, what he tried to do, and you let it happen?  You let him die trying to save your creation?”  Your heart broke for your friend--he died thinking he was doing what his father had wanted him to do.  “Was that just to build drama for your fucking story?”

He looked almost put out.  “I brought him back.  Sheesh.”

“He--”

Raphael, surrounded by holy fire, electricity buzzing through the air.  God is dead.

Gabriel, surrounded by holy fire, staring down Castiel.  How’s the search for Daddy going?

Dean Winchester, dropping a necklace into a trashcan.

“They don’t know, do they?  None of them...none of them even know you’re alive.”  You shook your head, not needing his confirmation.  “How could you do that?  They love you.”

He frowned.  “They’re experiments.  All of them, all of you.  From Michael on.  Love exists only because I created that emotion.”

“You may have created it, but you certainly don’t seem to feel it.”  Anger boiled inside you and you felt the mark on your arm react to it.  “Amara--she’s coming for you.”

His mouth twisted.  “What’s she been telling you?”

“You mean, you can’t just read my mind and find out?” You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.  “You’re supposed to be God.”

“Figured I was being nice, not messing with your brain, since…” he made a vague gesture with his hand.  “But--”

“She’s angry with you.  You betrayed her, just like you betrayed your angels and your humans.  All of us ‘experiments,’” you snarled.  “She wants you to know you don’t deserve her, or any of us, for what you’ve put us all through.  She wants to make you pay.”

He seemed to contemplate what you said for several moments, before he spoke again.  “Ok.”

You blinked.  “That’s it?”

“I know what she wants now.  What she’s gonna do.  It’s what she has always done whenever I created something.  She’s going to destroy everything.”

If you thought you’d felt sick before, it was nothing like you were feeling now.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s literally going to destroy everything.  Blink it out of existence.  All of it.  Heaven, hell, earth.  Humans and angels.  It’ll be gone.”

“And that’s it?  You’re not even going to try--”

“Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?” His cocky smile only served to infuriate.  “Just a few minutes ago, you were ready for her to unleash on me.  But now, when you realize exactly what that entails, you expect me to jump in and save everyone.”

“On you!  Unleash on you!  You deserve it!  But what did we do to deserve it?  What did I do--what did Gabriel do--what did any of your creations do to deserve your complete and total abandonment? Before and now?”

“You all, every last one of you, let me down.”  He shrugged.  “You’re all dead to me anyway, what does it matter if my sister makes that an actuality?”

Dead to me.  Fuck.  Your mom had used that exact same phrase when she’d spoken to you in the middle of that damned grocery store.

“Is that why you brought me here?” You looked around your old room once more.  “For the symmetry?  Letting all your ‘readers’ know how you’d been foreshadowing this bullshit spewing from your lips?”

“See--now this,” he pointed at you, smiling, “this is probably why your name got put on that list.  I didn’t even realize that, but you’re right.  The parallels.  Sam and Dean.  Lucifer and Michael.  Your parents.  Me.”  He smiled.  “You know it’s a great story when it just seems to write itself.”

“Is there even going to be anyone to read it once your sister is done with us?”

“True.” He shrugged.

The fight drained from you.  God didn’t care.  He didn’t care about what had happened to you and he didn’t care what would happen to the world.  As far as he was concerned, it was a done deal anyway.  “What was the point of finding me, of even having this conversation with me, if you knew what your sister had been telling me?”

“Confirmation, I suppose.” He shrugged.  “And I don’t particularly care for her using my own mouthpiece against me, but what’s done is done.”

“You said you were gonna fix everything.”

“Yeah.  I’m gonna let her do her thing.  Think about it, ______.  All those problems in the world Gabriel showed you?  Those nightmares you’ve been having.  Death and pollution and hate and crime and war and pain.  All of that will be gone.  It’ll all get fixed.”

“You--you’re no,” your voice hitched, “You’re no better than...my parents turned their back on me...you and your fucking parallels...fuck.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, trying to hold back the tears.  This was a pain that went all the way to your soul.  This hurt worse than anything you had ever experienced--even Metatron’s torture.  At least then, you’d still had faith that it was all worth something.  

God’s anger--that had been expected.  His apathy?  Fuck.  You couldn’t even look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see those unfeeling eyes staring back at you.

“Why even bother creating us if you knew this was a possibility?  We’re not fucking experiments, we are people.  And angels.  All of us just doing the only things we know to do, and you’re just going to let us get snuffed out.”

“And what would you have me do?”

You opened your mouth to respond before thinking better of it.  “Does it even matter?  You’ve written us all off anyway.”  

You were nothing more than a pawn.  You.  Gabriel.  Hell, even Metatron and everything he’d done to you.

“Can--can you just let me go back to Gabriel?”  If it was just a matter of time before it was all over anyway, you didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with this uncaring deity.

“You gonna tell him all about how his daddy doesn’t love him anymore?” He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No.” You shook your head slowly, finally looking up to make eye-contact again.  “Gabriel, for all his flaws, still loves you.  He still believes in you.  And you may not care about him, but I do.”  Your bottom lip trembled as you forced the words out.  “If that means I have to keep quiet about all this so that he still has faith, so be it.  He deserves better than knowing his father couldn’t give two shits about him.  He deserves to know he is loved.  Because he is.  Maybe not by you, but he is.”

Chuck cocked his head to the side, regarding you for a moment, before raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

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It felt like fire running through your veins.  You screamed out your frustration as you continued to pelt away at the punching bag Gabriel had conjured up.  In your mind it was Metatron’s battered and bloodied face you were wailing on, but the more you swung your fists, the angrier you felt yourself getting.

“I think you got it, sweetheart.”

Gabriel had recognized your pent up aggression before you had.  He’d said it was probably due to the Darkness overwhelming your visions.  Wanting to give you an outlet, he’d created a gym of sorts, encouraging you to release your frustrations on a punching bag or three.

“I know you heard me, cupcake.” Gabriel grabbed your hands to stop you from taking another swing.  Immediately, you felt the warm tingle of his grace healing your knuckles.  “I think it’s time for a break, yeah?”

“I can’t.”  You tried to yank your arms free, but he held fast.  “Let me go.”

“Not until you agree to give it a rest for a little while.”

“Fine!”  You jerked away from him, and this time, he did release you.  “You don’t understand.”

“I will if you tell me.”

You knew he was worried about you.  Ever since the splotch of black had appeared on your arm.  Hell, you were pretty damn terrified yourself, of these feelings you were having trouble controlling, and of the visions you kept having.

“It’s dark, Gabriel.  Everything is just...it’s so fucking dark.”

“______--”

“She’s just...she’s taunting me.” You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.  “She says she knows what I am.  She knows what I’ve been through.  That it’s not my fault.  And that she wants to help me.”

Gabriel placed his hands on your shoulders, and you could tell, just by the way his fingers flexed, that he was having a hard time not panicking.  “What else did she say to you?”

“I--”

“This is important, ______.”  His grip tightened.  “You need to tell me exactly what she’s been saying to you.”

“Who is she, Gabriel?”

He clenched his jaw in frustration.  “She...I’m pretty sure who you’re seeing is the Darkness.”

Just from the look in his eye, you knew there was something he wasn’t telling you.  Sure, he’d told you that the Darkness was an ancient evil that had been locked away.  He’d told you that the mark on Dean’s arm was the lock.  

But you knew there was more to it than that. 

He was keeping something from you.  Something big.  But that shouldn’t come as a huge surprise.  After all, he’d once told you that, without the First Blade, the mark was just a mark.  If he could lie about that...

“Tell me everything she said to you.”

“Why?”  You pulled yourself from his grasp.  “Why is it so damned important that you know what she said to me?”

“______--”

“No!  If you’re not going to be honest with me about all this, why the fuck should I tell you anything?”

“So what?  You’re just going to keep shit hidden from me?  You remember how well it worked out for you last time when you didn’t tell me something?”

You regretted punching him the moment your fist came into contact with his jaw.  You were pretty sure you’d just broken at least one of your fingers.  Still…  “Low fucking blow, Gabriel.” You tried to shake the pain from your hand.

Sighing in aggravation, he reached out for your hand, but you yanked it back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“______, stop.  Please.”  He sighed again, holding his hands up in surrender.  “I just want to heal your hand.”

The defeated look on his face had you relenting.  “What is the Darkness, Gabriel?”

He closed his eyes and finished healing your fingers.  “Not a what.  A who.  And she’s God’s sister.”

“The fuck?”

.

Gabriel finally sat and told you everything.  The Darkness is God’s sister.  In order to give life to the universe, God had to lock her away--with the help of Gabriel and his brothers, using the Mark.  The Mark corrupted Lucifer, then Cain, because of the evil it was holding back.  And now Dean had the Mark.  And because of your link, as final prophet of God, the Darkness and her evil was seeping through to you.

“You OK, sugar?  I know that’s a lot to digest.”  Gabriel rested his hand on yours, rubbing his thumb along your fingers in an attempt to soothe you.

“I don’t get it.”  You paused, trying to find the right words.  “Why would he think this is better?  Humans have been tainted by the Darkness since the beginning.  When he realized his little experiment went awry, why didn’t he just...the flood.”  You caught yourself.  “The flood and the ark and--that was God trying to clean up the mess?”

Gabriel nodded.  

“Well, that worked out just soooo peachy, didn’t it?”  You ran your fingers through your hair.  “We’re all still here and we’re all still really fucked up.”

“Hey,” Gabriel took your hand in his once more, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “You’re not so bad.”

“Right.”  You scoffed, ripping your hand from his.  “That’s why you’ve been freaking out ever since this damn thing showed up on my arm.”

“Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be worried about you going dark-side,” he sighed when you rolled your eyes.  “______, yeah, you are not the same woman you were when we first met.  You’re not even the same woman I rescued up in heaven.  But underneath all these new layers, there’s still you.  We’ll find you again.”

“What if I don’t want to be found?  Have you thought of that?”  It felt so much easier just to let the anger take over than to try and fight it.  “She said she’d help me.”

“How?” Gabriel’s tone was cautious.

“She said she could make him pay for what he did to me, for everything I’ve been through, and--”

“I told you already, cupcake, when the time comes, we’ll take Metatron down.”

You shook your head.  “Not Metatron.  It’s not him who’d pay.  It’s God.”

.

You watched it all play out in your visions.  Witches and demons.  Metatron losing his grace and becoming human and getting shot (Best vision ever).  The Book of the Damned.  A cute redhead meeting her end just because she was trying to help.  Dean killing Death (Seriously?  You can kill Death???).  The Darkness being released on the world.

Once your vision came to pass, once the Darkness, or Amara as she was now called, was released, you felt the shift.  You knew the moment she’d been freed from her prison.  It was as if every part of you was now attuned to her and her actions, her emotions.

.

The wind whipped around you as the sky began to darken.  Your eyes darted in every direction, trying to find an escape route, but you were trapped.  Stuck in the eye of the hurricane.  You opened your mouth to call out for Gabriel, but you closed it again before a sound could escape.  Somehow, you knew there was no way he could help you.

The storm closed in on you, making it hard for you to remain on your feet.  So you dropped to your knees, wrapping your arms around your middle, hoping that somehow, you could survive whatever was taking place.

“______.”

The burn of fear crept up the back of your throat.  Something was coming.  Something big.  Bigger than you’d ever faced.  And it knew your name.

“______.”

Instead of responding, you curled in on yourself even more.  This had to be a dream.  Some sort of vision.  It wasn’t real.

“______.”

Except, your visions had never spoken directly to you before.

A burst of bright light had you squeezing your eyes shut.  “My child, do not be afraid.”

You’d never heard this voice before.  It felt like your eardrums were about to burst from the intensity.  You began to tremble, knowing that this was it.  This was your end.

“Open your eyes, ______.”  The voice was softer now, more human.

Every instinct told you to keep your eyes glued shut, but you felt compelled to follow the directions.  Slowly and completely against your will, you opened your eyes, gasping for breath as they quickly adjusted to the light.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”  The face of a man you’d never seen before was smiling down at you.  He was completely encompassed in the light, even as the storm around you continued to howl.  

“Just--just end it already.”  If he was going to torture you...there was no way you could survive another bout of it.  You just didn’t have it in you.  Maybe, one day, Gabriel could forgive you for giving up.

The man sighed.  “Why does everyone think I’m going to kill them?”  He frowned.  “It’s the storm, isn’t it?”  He didn’t wait for your answer before the space around you fell silent.  “Is that better?”  When you didn’t respond, save the tears running down your cheeks, he tried again.  “Relax, please.”

Since when does anything supernatural sound anxious?

“I’m not anxious,” he protested.  “And I’m not going to hurt you.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’m God.”

Wait...what?  Surely you had misheard.  “What?”

“Yeah.”  He shrugged.  “Surprise?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.  There was no way this was God.  God was supposed to be all-powerful.  Not somebody who looked like he’d forgotten to shower for a week and couldn’t be bothered to put on pants.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, ______.” ‘God’ shrugged again, moving to stand right in front of you.

What the fuck is going on?

“I’m coming back, ______.  I’m coming back to fix things.” He reached down and cupped your chin with his hand.  A warm feeling overtook you.  “I just need some time."

Time?  Time?  God needs fucking time?

“I know you know who the Darkness is.  I know you’ve seen what she is capable of.  This matter will take planning on my part.”

“S-she’s your sister!” You sputtered.

“I am well aware of that.”  He frowned.  “But she is interfering where she has no right to do so.”

“Interfering?  You locked her away!  For all the good it did!”  

You’d cared when you’d gotten mouthy when you first met Gabriel, for fear that he could completely destroy you.  A voice in the back of your mind warned you that you were crossing that line again, with something even more powerful than Gabriel.  But most of you didn’t care anymore.  After everything you’d been through, you just didn’t care.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand--”

“What kind of ‘God’ does this?  What kind of ‘God’ locks his own sister away?  For what purpose?  To create humanity that winds up tainted by her anyway?  How could you possibly think this was OK?”

“______, your mind can’t possibly begin to comprehend--”

“No, I can’t.  I can’t comprehend how you could--”  You cut yourself off, emotions choking you up.  “She’s gonna--”

“She has been speaking to you?”  He gripped your chin.  “What has she been saying?”

“You’re ‘God’.” You forced, crying out when he tightened his hold to the point of pain.

Immediately, he released you and took a step back.  He almost seemed to be trying to calm himself down.  “You are my prophet, and she has been speaking to you.”  He shook his head, trying to clear the anger from himself.  “We need to discuss what my sister has been saying to you.  All of it.”

“Need some help here!”

Sam’s shout had you on your feet in an instant.  You ran out of your room and down the hall, skidding to a stop when you saw Sam and his brother laying out a very injured Samandriel in one of the bunker’s unused bedrooms.

“What happened?” 

Sam looked up, his face tired and etched with worry.  “Rowena.  She hit him with a hefty dose of magic.”

Damn it.  You really needed to find a way to kill that bitch.

“What can I do to help?”  You felt tears forming in your eyes as you looked down at the unconscious angel, but quickly blinked them away.

“First aid kit from the bathroom.”

Nodding, you hurried off to get what Dean had asked for.

Once the brothers had patched Samandriel up as best they could, they headed back out.  Rowena was still wreaking havoc and needed to be stopped.  This left you alone to keep an eye on the injured angel.

“No!”

Alarmed, you rushed to Samandriel’s room.  Upon entering, you saw him thrashing around on the bed.  He still appeared to be unconscious, probably having a nightmare about all he’d just endured.

“Samandriel?”  You inched closer to the bed, not sure if you should wake him.  “Samandriel?”  You reached out and brushed your fingers along his hand.

The moment your skin made contact with his, he opened his eyes, wide, and started gasping for breath.

“Samandriel?”

“______?”  He tried to sit up, only to fall back, groaning in pain.

“Don’t–” you frowned, unsure of what to do.  “Don’t try to sit up.  You were hit by some pretty nasty magic and you need to heal first.”

He nodded weakly.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head.  “I feel…I feel this overwhelming urge to sleep.”

“Then sleep.”  You shrugged.

“Angels do not sleep.”

“Well,” you bit your lip.  “Then don’t sleep?”

He barked out a laugh before groaning again.  “Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Well, thank you for being here to watch over me.”

Blush crept up to your cheeks.

You looked up from your notes just in time to see Samandriel collapse against the door frame.  You jumped up, moving quickly to help him to a chair.  “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I’ve been in bed for days now.  Tired of looking at the walls.”

“Oh.”

“It’s only nice when you’re in there with me.”

Your face began to heat as you ducked your head.  “Can I get you anything?”

“No.”  He sighed, sinking into the cushions of the chair.  “Have the Winchesters been able to defeat the witch?”

“No,” you sighed.  “They called yesterday and they have me looking up some stuff, but so far, I haven’t found much to help them.”

“Perhaps I can assist you?”

Your blush was going to wind up permanently staining your cheeks red.  “It’s OK, Samandriel.  You should probably rest up some more.”

“I don’t mind.”  The angel bit his lip.

Maybe he was just as unsure of all this as you were.

“Um…OK.”

For three days straight, Samandriel was with you while you researched.  Sometimes, he’d help look through books and notes.  Other times, he’d be too drained, still recovering from whatever Rowena had done to him, but he’d still sit with you and keep you company.

It was nice.

“I’m fine!”

You looked up from your book to see Sam helping a limping Dean into the library.  “What happened to you?”

“Nothing!” Dean snapped.  “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You broke your leg, dumbass.”  Sam retorted, rolling his eyes.  “You got any ice packs, ______?  We gotta get the swelling down.”

“Yeah.  Hang on.”  You set your book aside and hurried to the kitchen.  You were surprised to see Samandriel already there.  “Are you OK?”

“Much better.” He frowned, taking in your rushed appearance. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  It’s Dean who broke his leg.  He needs some ice packs.”  You grabbed what you needed from the freezer and started back towards the library.  “Guys?”  They were nowhere in sight.

“Dean’s room!”  Sam shouted.

“Of course.”  You shook your head and made your way towards his bedroom.  “Here we go.”

“Thanks, ______.” Dean sighed as the ice hit his skin.  “Shit, that’s cold.”

“It’s ice, Dean.  An integral part of ice is usually cold.”

Sam chuckled and even Dean smiled at your sarcasm.  It wasn’t often that you broke out of your shell around them, and it made them happy when you did.

“Thanks, doc.”

“We’ll need to set his leg.  But we can’t do that without an x-ray machine or whatever it is doctors use.”  You paused.  “Oh.  Wait.  Hang on a sec.”  You hurried out of the room and back towards the kitchen.  “Samandriel?”

He looked like he was puzzling over something.  “Yes?”

“Are you feeling well enough to heal Dean’s leg?  If not, that’s totally fine, but if you could use your--”

He huffed.  “It’s fine.  I will heal Dean’s leg.”  He disappeared and reappeared before you had time to decipher his tone.  “Dean Winchester is healed.”

Then he disappeared again.

Weird.

As soon as Dean and Sam headed off for another hunt, Samandriel popped back into the bunker, acting as if he hadn’t been gone for over a week.  It was puzzling, but you enjoyed the angel’s company too much to question it.  After all, Cas popped in and out.  Maybe it was just an angel thing?

Except, it seemed like every time Sam and Dean were home, Samandriel would disappear.  And then, once they were gone, he’d be back.  It didn’t make much sense.

“Samandriel, wherever you are, we need you to get your feathery ass down here.” Dean called out to the ceiling.

“What is it?” The young angel snapped seconds after he appeared.

“Look, kid, we need to talk.”

“I am not a child, Dean Winchester.  I am still, very much, an angel of the Lord.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“It’s about ______.” Sam interjected.

“What is wrong with ______?” Worry laced Samandriel’s voice.

Dean and Sam shared a look.

“See, it’s like this.”  Dean began.  “______ feels like you keep ditching, anytime we’re at home.  But that’s crazy, right?  You wouldn’t skip out just ‘cause Sam and I are around.  Right?”

“I do not like seeing you with ______.”  Samandriel admitted with a sigh.  “I do not understand why I get so angry, so I distance myself.”

Another look passed between Sam and Dean, this time, with a smirk.

“So, you like spending time with ______?” Sam asked.

“Very much so.”

“And you get jealous whenever we’re around ______?”

Samandriel cocked his head to the side.  “Is that what I am feeling?”

Dean grinned.  “Sounds to me like you might be in love.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”  Sam was confused.  “That’s all love gets...‘oh’?”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”  Samandriel was genuine in his curiosity.

“You march right up to ______ and say ‘I love you.’  It’s not rocket science.”  Dean scoffed.

“Very well.”  Samandriel disappeared.

“I didn’t mean--” Dean began, too late.  “--right this second.”

“Well, at least ______ will stop sulking.”  Sam shrugged.

You were trying not to mope over the fact that Sam and Dean would be at the bunker for another week.  That meant it would be at least that long, if not longer, before you got to see Samandriel.

A distraction.  That’s what you needed.  Something to get your mind off your problems.  Maybe you could go for a drive or something.  Getting some fresh air might help to clear your thoughts.

“______?”

Scratch that.  Samandriel was here.  Wait...Samandriel was here?  Now?

“Are you OK?”  He looked very nervous.

His steps were very determined as he moved to stand right in front of you.  “I love you.”  Then he was gone.

“What...what just happened?” you asked to your empty room.

A moment later, Samandriel reappeared.  “I apologize.  Dean did not tell me it was proper etiquette to stay after I said that to you.”

“Dean?  He put you up to this?”  You started to get angry.

“No.”  Samandriel shook his head.  “He was merely helping me tell you how I feel.  I left to make sure I’d done it correctly, but he told me I was supposed to stay with you after I said it.”

“So...you love me?”  Your heart began to beat wildly.  Was this why he’d been so weird lately?

“Forgive me, ______, for my ‘weird’ behavior.  The Winchesters helped me realize that what I was feeling was jealousy.  I did not like seeing you with them.”

“You know, I live here.  I’m going to be around them.”

His brow furrowed.  “I understand.  I am just unsure of how to make these feelings of jealousy disappear.”

“You have nothing to be jealous over.”  You smiled.  “Sam and Dean are like brothers.”

“That is good to hear.”  He returned your smile.

“So, here’s no need for you to be jealous.”  You reached out and took his hands in yours.  “As for that other feeling...do you know why it’s proper etiquette to stay after you tell someone you love them?”

He shook his head.