Lightkeeper /Destiel//Sabriel//Michifer

Good Morning, Yesterday

Gabriel lay motionless.

His body felt weighted, as if every bone had been removed and replaced with lead.  Even his eyelids, it seemed, were determined to stay glued shut, casting his world into a gentle darkness.

He was only dimly aware of his own breathing: the rise and fall of his chest accompanied by a dull ache that dissipated with each new breath.  Sleep attempted to entice him, it's silky entity swirling just beyond his consciousness, but he would not let it take him.  He felt, for whatever reason, a persistent nagging to move, to get up, to do something. 

Boredom.

That had to be it.  And yet, it wasn't.  Somehow, the very act of stillness was captivating in itself.  He was suspended in a complete state of limbo.  He could be anywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

There it was.

Curiosity. 

He could be anywhere.  Anywhere in the world, and he'd be completely oblivious.  But he wasn't anywhere, because he had to be somewhere.  Where?  Where was he, really?  What was the last thing he remembered?

With a great effort, Gabriel focused on maintaining consciousness.  He felt sloppy - sleepy - but he could still think. 

The first thing that came to mind was a hill.  A plain, grassy hill. 

Not helpful.

With a touch of impatience, Gabriel waited for the fabric of the memory to bleed into focus.  Little by little, the stitches seemed to come together.

There was the hill again, raised so far off the ground it was almost its own island. A small cluster of trees nestled atop it, sheltering passing squirrels form the sting of the wind. Below, congregations of houses stood together, their features made hazy by the grey of the rain that had settled over them.

Gabriel smiled.

I brought Sam here.

We had a picnic.

He faltered.

That was months ago.

Trying his luck again, Gabriel willed his eyes to open. If he could physically see where he was, he'd probably remember everything a lot faster. His eyes refused to budge.

What if I have a concussion? He panicked.

Did people with concussion wonder if they had one?

It seemed doubtful.

As he calmed down, he became aware of his breathing again: slow and rhythmic. At least he wasn't dead then. Dead people didn't breathe, did they?

Gabriel didn't know how long he waited until the next memory began to form but, when it did, he was glad, if not a little anxious.

It could be anything.

Snippets of images flashed through his mind like a deck of cards being hastily shuffled. 

First, he saw steam.  There was so much of it that it blurred his vision and he could practically feel its heat as it attacked his face.  He caught a glimpse of red hair in front of him, followed by the repeated insistence that everything was fine.  "It's supposed to do that!"  He heard someone say.  "They're called steamed vegetables for a reason!"