Luci's One Shots

~Fallen Brother (Gabriel)

This is angst. A full on bundle of angst and death

The rays of the setting sun splashed around Gabriel, coating him in scarlets and crimsons, leaving him unable to escape the visual of blood forever smearing his hands.

Triggers: angst, depression, guilt, character death, suicide, blood.

~~~~~~

What have I done?

The Archangel stumbled backward numbly, nearly slipping over the still fresh blood coating the floor. Wings shaking and face pale, he lifted his trembling hands to look at the bright red substance now coating his hands. He had almost hoped that it was perhaps some kind of sick twisted dream, that it would all go away when he blinked his eyes. But it did not. No matter how often he blinked, the blood stayed. He was unable to escape it no matter where or how far he went.

The sun slowly rose behind him, yet no matter how warm the rays might be - his heart stayed cold. Forever frozen. Coated in scarlet and crimsons, he had not even noticed he had fallen to his knees. Head bowing down, golden hair fell in front of his eyes as he gazed numbly at his fallen brother who was surrounded by the burnt marks his once radiant wings left behind.

Lip trembling, a choked cry tore out of his throat, rising with each passing second. Not caring who could see him, the angel broke down, clutching against his big brother in the way he used to do back when he was much smaller. Back when things were still simple, and they did not have to fight - when there was no reason to. His shaking bloodied wings wrapped around them both in a hopeless attempt to keep it together as he cried.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel cried out. "I'm so sorry." He nuzzled his tear-stricken face against his brother's unmoving chest, not caring about the blood that was now smearing his cheeks. "It wasn't supposed to end like this."

He had not expected to win. Lucifer was supposed to kill him; Gabriel wasn't supposed to kill the one who taught him all his tricks. He's the one who was supposed to die... or at least fake his death and live the rest of his life with porn stars. He wasn't supposed to win and end up murdering one of the few beings he actually still loved - the one who raised and loved him for the longest time before everything went to shit. Yes, he wanted the Winchester's to get away without being the condoms of his elder brothers, and deep-down part of him still cared about Kali, but not at this cost.

"I'm so sorry," he choked again, his voice unrecognizable to even his own ears. His brother's blood was now on his hands and he knew that no matter how often he might attempt to wash them, it would never come off and forever stain both his thoughts and heart. And he knew that he could never move on... they had known each other before even the first stars were born and lit up the ancient night sky, so how could he?

When Gabriel had left Heaven to go to Earth, Lucifer was the last thread he held on to from his previous being, a previous life from eons ago. When he was happy. It kept his mind intact and helped him keep his sanity as he adjusted to a very different life on Earth.

And now he was gone.

And worst of all, by his own hand.

And without his morning star in it, everything seemed much duller now. The sky lost its once vibrant blue color. The trees and grass were much duller and lost all life. Even his own wings seemed to have lost their celestial light. The only thing that didn't change was the red. The blood was still as vibrant and bright as ever. It almost seemed to glare up at him, mocking and taunting him, tainting his heart beyond repair. Helplessly, he tried to wipe the blood of Lucifer's chest as if that action would miraculously bring him back to life. But as one would expect, it did not work, and he only ended up smearing the blood out even more.

Hands grasping Lucifer's shirt long after his knuckles turned white and he lost all feeling in his hand, Gabriel stayed by his side the duration of the day and long until the sun disappeared behind the horizon once again and the nights turned cold and bitter - just like he felt from within.

But still, Gabriel stayed watch. And he would stay watch until his body and bones turned cold and his wings started to twitch. He still stayed watch.

~~

It had been months since Lucifer had died. No, it had been months since he had murdered his own brother. And Gabriel still felt as miserable and guilty as ever.

He had tried many things to attempt to move on. It's what Lucifer would have wanted, he kept on telling himself, yet his own words did not quite go through to him. Gabriel had tried to completely bury himself into booze and woman and games. It did not work. He even tried busying himself with the Trickster business and pagans, but that didn't work either. He did not particularly feel like facing the Winchester's or even Castiel, aware that they wouldn't understand how he felt. So Gabriel believed it would be better that they believed that he and Lucifer simply killed each other. He also knew he couldn't go back to Heaven - it wasn't his home anymore, it hadn't been for a very long time.

And when he couldn't go back to the only home he ever truly knew, and when even Earth became unable to take his pain away, what was left for him? Where could he possibly go?

Gabriel did not know the answer.

Being an Archangel, he had been around for a very long time and he had seen the creation of the universe itself. He always found it marvelous, the vastness and beauty it contained. He was reminded of the galaxies; swirling and bright, with a dark black hole in the center of all the chaos. That was how he felt. Like everything just moved on around him, unaware of how he felt, and he was the black hole with a darkness and heaviness within.

A tear slipping out of his eyes, Gabriel harshly wiped it away, winching back when his hands met his face. He started to shake when he saw the blood on his hands in a flash. He imagined that it was everywhere on his face and in his hair, coppery and sticking to his skin. The Archangel cried, and then the blood was gone, nothing but a figment of his imagination. Curling in on himself on the floor of one of his safe houses he was in, he closed his eyes and shook. Looking through his tears, his eyes fell on the Archangel Blade that was on the floor as well, not too far from where he was laying.

Hands shaking, he reached out to the blood-coated blade. Gabriel had found himself unable to wash it off. He could barely look at the weapon and had instead carelessly thrown it on the floor months ago, refusing to acknowledge its existence altogether. Until now, at least.

Pulling himself up to his knees, he looked down at the weapon in his hold. It felt much heavier than he remembered, as if it carried the weight of all of Lucifer's existence within. Who knew? Perhaps it did.

Perhaps it was meant to be like this, a tiny voice in the back of his mind spoke.

Gabriel looked up towards the ceiling as if he could see the cloudy sky through the roof. It appeared almost as if the angel was praying. For what, he was not sure. His father had abandoned them all eons ago and wouldn't give a shit now. Gabriel knew that He would never listen to any kind of prayer he might send. So he did not pray. Not for anything. He just looked up with a blank accusing look as he turned the blade around in his hold.

He closed his eyes. At least I will see you soon, brother. At least the misery will finally end, were his last thoughts.

And then he swiftly plunged the blade through his own heart. Opening his mouth, he screamed. There was a quick flash of pain and panic, and a flare of a bright light as his grace exploded within his vessel, taking away his very life... and then nothing.