I have… struggled with this one. Mostly because I keep changing things in the drabbles for Paved and Perdition which retroactively change this and the three or four drabbles that follow immediately after it.  

prompt: TEMPTATION
series: Wrapped Up In You
timeline:  Waiting for the End 
characters: Gabriel, Laufey-Serenity
words: 1629
summary: (A conversation long over due)

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A little more than a century after the death of Christ, and Gabriel the Messenger is still on Earth. He has remained to watch over his Father’s fledgling religion, or so he tells Michael on the rare occasion that his brother thinks to question it. 

That, more than anything that has happened since Lucifer’s fall, is what hurts the most. Centuries ago, Michael would have been the constant watcher over his shoulder. He would have wanted to know everything that Gabriel was involved with, every message and all the possible trouble he could be getting into. He would be there to offer aid and even comfort. Once… well, once their brother would have been right there with Michael, scoffing and poking and prodding. He would teach Gabriel tricks here and there while Michael was distracted. 

Those times are long gone. Michael has gotten so wrapped up in training Raphael on how to be a ‘proper’ Archangel, that he has forgotten that Gabriel was already one. Michael has allowed himself to dwell on their brother’s Fall, and on the destruction of their family. He has turned a blind eye to the damage he has done to the Host while he sits and stews on whatever hateful things Lucifer whispers through the cracks in the Cage. He has allowed those spiteful words to strike all too deeply, and now he can barely see beyond the final battle. No matter how far in the future that may be.

That’s not something that Gabriel really wants to think about. He doesn’t want to consider how many of his younger brothers will die for their pissing contest, either. So he hides; he hides on Earth and guides the new church along the path that Father has set for it.

He’s gotten pretty good at hiding, though any angel with a drop of sense to their name can still find him. All they have to do is reach out for the curious squish-crunch of Grace forced into a form too small for it. Thankfully, most of the non-human entities that populate Earth aren’t quite to versed in feeling out an angel’s Grace; to them, he is Nal. He, or rather she, is one of them. She’s just another pagan looking to make something of herself.

It’s not a hard sell to make when sharing the body with a pagan woman. Laufey has stirred and brushed against his grace every few years since that first year, giving him glimpses of memory and knowledge of how to use her powers. It has helped him to weave the story that has bound them to the Nordic pagans, and has become such a familiar touch that he rarely notices it these days.

He thinks nothing of it when he feels her stir this time. Nothing, that is, until a soundless voice rips through his Grace alongside a memory. The pain that lances through their abdomen is so unexpected that for a second he loses control of the vessel and it crumples to the ground. 

“Nal!” it is the impetuous pagan that he has been whispering his father’s secrets to that catches him, hands curling protectively into her tunic. Gabriel can see greatness and power in the future of this nordic pagan, but without using powers far beyond what he has borrow from Laufey, he can’t say just how it comes to be. At the moment he is young and worried, hands shifting nervously to press against her abdomen and then her forehead.

Gabriel laughs slightly, and it is a weak, breathy sound as she pushes him away. “Settle down. I’m alright, it was just an unexpected kick.” The pagan’s brow furrows in confusion, but Laufey’s lips curve into a gentle smile that it had taken Gabriel thirty years to figure out. “Do not worry so, Borson. Nothing is wrong.”

“You are… certain?”

“Of course I am. Odin, if I didn’t know my own body, who else would?” Well, Gabriel supposes that Laufey would kwow the body better than he, and by the tug and pull of his grace it’s obvious that she is up and wants… something. To talk, most likely. It’s not really a conversation that he is looking forwards to, but it is one that needs to happen.

So she claps a hand on Odin’s shoulder, presses a kiss to his forehead, and whispers a blessing in Enochian into his hair. Odin makes a face at the kiss, and Gabriel finds himself laughing again. She braces himself against his shoulder as she lurches back to her feet. “I do believe, however, that it’s a sign that I need to head home. We will continue our discussion another time.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s still young enough that when a mother-figure uses that tone, he does not disagree with her, and it is a tone that Gabriel has forced himself to learn. She flashes another smile at him and flickers away, only going far enough to cover the sound of her wings. A moment later, and she is settling into the Garden; she needs time to commune with her Vessel, and this is the only place that she can think of where she won’t be bothered by angels or pagans or Christians. 

He takes an unneeded breath and then pulls up one of Laufey’s oldest memories for them to speak in. It is an ancient palace sitting room, all beautiful Grecian columns and white marble. Gabriel has never seen the long destroyed Palace of the Serenities, but it is obvious that this is where they are. The Earth is a cool blue orb that hangs in the sky over their heads.

“Gabriel.”

He turns to face her, wearing Farbauti’s face once more. Aside from her own, it is the only face of his that she would recognize. “Laufey.”

“Pandeia Serenity,” she corrects softly, looking up at the Earth instead of at him. “You have been Laufey for far long than I ever was.”

He shrugs awkwardly and steps up beside her. Her gaze shifts from the Earth to him for a moment, and her face is strangely blank.

“How long has it been?”

“One hundred and eighty-five years. Give or take.” Even as he is answering her, he realizes that he has never told her his true name, and he turns to ask how she knew. The slap takes him completely by surprise. 

“Two centuries, Gabriel? You took my life from me!”

Maybe it’s the heartache caused by Michael and Lucifer. Maybe it’s the pit in his stomach from watching Michael replace their brother with Raphael. Maybe it’s the century of hiding with the humans, or the decades of playing with the pagans. Maybe it’s just a part of Gabriel that was never allowed to flourish in his Father’s House. Whatever the reason, Gabriel grins wickedly as he laughs. “Oh Princess, the deal was that I healed your body and then I got to use it. There was no time limit on it.”

She makes a frustrated little squeak before she visibly collapses in on herself. “I want my life back, angel.”

Gabriel looks away with a frown, his moment of vindictive joviality vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Don’t we all.” All he wants is for Michael to open his eyes and see what he’s making Raphael and Anael and Uriel and all of their younger brothers into. He wants Lucifer to ask for forgiveness and come home. He wants to be able to walk through Heaven without thinking of ages long gone. 

“I still need a Vessel, Serenity. My job is not yet finished.”

“Why can’t you find someone else? Why does it have to be me?” her voice is plaintive with a note of desperation.

“Because you are the last of your line. No siblings, remember? You have no nieces or nephews that I could move on to.”

“My aunts—”

“Only have half the bloodlines necessary to host an angel of my power, Serenity.”

She is quiet for a long time, and Gabriel has to admit to himself that he would miss being Nal. Her skin has grown comfortable over the decades, and the pagan magics that are available to him through her body are unlike the powers that his Father had given him. A shift to a new Vessel would mean giving all that up.

And he knows that he doesn’t have any right to that power, and that he should give it all up, but at this point he is not sure if he can. He has become addicted to her magic, something that should be impossible for an angel and yet… here he is. 

“…I can still bare children.”

It takes a moment for Serenity’s words to filter through, and then the Archangel’s jaw drops. “What?”

Serenity looks rather displeased with her own line of thought, but she continues before Gabriel can get her shock under control. “I am still capable of baring children and continuing the line.”

“You would give up your own child to escape being my Vessel?” Gabriel’s face twists unpleasantly. “If I had had any doubt that you were a pagan—”

“Look,” she interrupts and her voice sounds strained even to her, “Endymion has not been reborn yet. A child of any other union would not be recognized by Mother. It’s… it’s not breaking my vows if they child is produced for a reason outside of continuing the royal line.”

“Except that it goes against that whole free will thing Father gave humanity.”

“The child won’t be human. Not enough to matter in any case. Gabriel. Please.”

“…I need to think about this, Serenity.”

As he slips out of their shared mental landscape, Gabriel is careful not to pay attention to the way his wings quiver. When he opens Laufey’s eyes, he ignores the way her stomach clenches. As he returns to Earth, he pretends her mouth isn’t dry.

This is a temptation he is not sure he can withstand.