tiptoe39 | SUPERNATURAL POST 5x19 FIX-IT MEME

Gabriel talks Death to death - think the old legend of Argus... he just yammers on and on and on until he puts the guardians of the universe to sleep, and sneaks out.

Edited 2010-04-23 20:40 (UTC)

Did you delete your fic? Such a shame - this prompt was just what I wanted to see.

Gabriel shows up in a new vessel. A girly vessel this time. (My vote's for SMG, but I'm crazy like that.)

Put him in the Impala. Think of the slash!

Gabriel, having gotten around a lot as a Trickster, knows three different versions of Death: the SPN one, Death of the Endless from Sandman, and DEATH from Discworld. He tricks them all into wanting a piece of him just like John Constantine did with the three archdemons, and so they all agree to bring him back so as not to have to fight each other.

Gabriel was Loki first and, honestly, you can try to kill the cosmic embodiment of chaos, but whenever you need someone to fuck you up and then get you out of the fix better than you were before, he'll be there.

Gabriel was bound to Kali. Now AND forever. And she's the fucking Mahakali, one of the three aspects of the Mahadevi. You don't fuck with that shit.

The death of Baldr is the heralding of the coming of Ragnarok. But it doesn't count without the mistletoe. Loki needs to set it up and Hodr has to go through with it. So the universe rejects this reality and makes them start again.

Edited 2010-04-24 11:32 (UTC)

Hi!

I just put up a coda based on the Lucifer Regrets prompt over in my lj. Hope you like it. :)

My Brother's Keeper

My thought exactly! Gabriel made 3 versions of himself, and Lucifer killed a copy.

(I have no business writing this. I have no business posting this. It's way too long, and I'm not sure it even fits the prompt that well. Gah. Here it is anyway.)
...

There were a lot of reasons why they weren't there, and weren't missed, and weren't much thought of. They weren't warriors, had never been warriors, had never been strong enough to fight even in their prime. Had never had a great deal of *agency* even in their prime -- there was a reason they didn't show up so much in the myths.

If they'd faded less than some others it was partially because they hadn't had as far to go. Only partially, of course -- the other reason was that they could mostly still do what they'd always done, with slightly different window dressing. They were still useful, not necessary, but useful. (Among the metaphors suggested and rejected had been fertilizer -- "What, so we're cow manure?" -- artificial insemination -- "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that" -- chemical catalysts -- "*You* may spend too much time in science buildings, but that's meaningless to the rest of us" -- and Cupids -- "I'm *really* going to pretend I didn't hear that".) They were a lot better off than gods whose job had been, oh, to steer the sun. ("Funny that the adoption of the heliocentric model made Helios lose his job.")

Ultimately, though, they were very minor goddesses from a very has-been pantheon. Oh, some of their relatives might make a big thing out of being remembered, but the shift to not being taken seriously had started *early*, and the being remembered? Half of that came down to the present through *Roman fanfiction*. ...Some of which they'd been involved in creating. Thalia refused to apologize for the whole Ovid thing.

Between some resentment of still being active and Thalia's caginess about her degree of involvement (if any) in various recent works of fiction centered on Heracles-by-Roman-name, the last conversation which could have turned into an invitation ended in Calliope being called a flute girl. You could get away with that with some of them, but not Calliope. That put an end to *that*. Anyway, half of them were busy already.

It turned out to be lucky for them. Take an event involving the gods, which is major -- historical -- and common knowledge, or at least not secret, and you get Clio coming back to Parnassus in tears, because she knows. She just knows, just like Calliope knows this whole apocalypse thing through the humans involved and their epic lives. She knows.

In hindsight the flute girl argument was a bad way to part. Gods grow back, if the roots are still there ("I don't think you should be allowed to use metaphors anymore"), but their family... well. Some of them, maybe. In time. If there is time. ("Of course if you relax the 'family' definition to 'descended from Zeus', we're probably related to at least half the mortal population of Europe by this time.") They gather on the slopes of Olympus and lament as they did for Orpheus, because it is the thing that is done when kin die. Even when the kin that matter most are still with you.

They agree to try to stay -- keep -- under the radar ("Calliope, that does mean you should keep at least, oh, a mile distant when *stalking people*"), and that at the very end they'll all come back, be together, go out together, because they're sisters and it's always been that way.

And then Clio goes back to the humans she's helping in building a weird, super-durable, kind of abstract time capsule (to be found by the planet's next sapient species or by aliens, whichever), and Urania goes back to haunting the world's telescope laboratories (because Urania apparently cannot imagine the world ending without a big asteroid coming into it somewhere). Terpsichore and Euterpe go back to whatever their Secret Project is (and how secret can a song-and-dance number be, even if it is codenamed 'Zombie Jamboree'?). Calliope goes back to stalking epic people. And the rest of them go back to being at loose ends. Sure, they could do their usual thing, but it feels weird to ignore the apocalypse.

Continued...

Erato announces that instead of *inspiring* lyric poetry about the apocalypse, she's going to write some herself. She's matchless at inspiring poetry, but kind of sucks at writing it, so she ends up with limericks and at one point tries to rhyme 'blister' and 'fester'. So that leaves three of them (all vowing not to attempt to write anything personally).

Strangely enough, it's Polyhymnia's idea. Gods letting people down does tend to make her depressed and sometimes rather erratic ("The purpose of my *existence* is songs of faith and praise, I'd *like* to feel as if I'm not *lying* to people"), but it's still a surprise. Understanding the metaphysical basis of the birth and regeneration of gods is one thing, testing it is something else, even on an easy (relatively) candidate. It wasn't too hard to talk the twins into it. Calliope wouldn't let either of them follow her, not that Thalia especially wanted to, and everyday drama lacks a certain intensity.

Besides. They're always up for a good story.

###

The first thing Gabriel is aware of is that he remembers everything, and all of him is... present. Not intact, exactly, but present. Recoverable.

The first exterior thing he's aware of is the somewhat muffled sound of Italian opera. Wincing from that, he realizes that *everything hurts*, and he's sitting up, propped against something.

He opens his eyes, and realizes he's propped against an altar. Sort of. A plywood altar, wedged in between a stack of chairs and a metal cabinet marked KNICKKNACKS. Ah. Prop room. That partially explains the opera.

Then, finally, he notices he's not alone. Only a few feet away is a settee with blue satin tasseled pillows and two pretty blonde girls -- twins. They're wearing blue dresses cut identically, but different colors, one darker than the settee cushions, one lighter. They're watching him with eyes that match their dresses, and they're holding hands.

Gabriel recognizes the one in the lighter dress, with the lighter eyes (she likes tricksters, would sometimes follow him around and laugh at all his jokes), so he knows them both.

He'd ask what's going on, but -- that's not what he does. Instead, he says, "This must be your sister. Should I guess which one?"

"The one who got *very* interested in you when you turned out to have run away from your tragically angsty family and then tragically got killed by your brother right after choosing a side," Thalia says, straight-faced. "And there may have been tragic love. Was that *strictly* necessary?"

"The sister who you traumatized with your dual identity has probably cleared the hemisphere by now," Melpomene puts in. She raises her free hand. "Glorious messenger..."

"...And Loki," Thalia finishes. "Cognitive dissonance."

"Poor Polly. Couldn't quite turn her back on a herald angel, though." She half-shrugs, almost shyly. "Any more than we could."

Oh, for... "So you're telling me I'm now a tragicomedy?" Gabriel asks.

"A tragicomedy with religious themes," Thalia corrects with a smirk. "Though not enough to keep Polyhymnia here."

"And a good thing, too. It took all three of us to draw you back, even with all the roots intact."

"If he hadn't gone all tragic, he wouldn't have needed to be grown back." Elbow, eye-roll, shoulder-bump, hair-toss, and the sisterly dispute is shelved for the moment.

Gabriel wants to ask why they did this. Thalia likes him and his tricks, sure, and the disastrous turn his life has taken would certainly attract Melpomene like a fly to honey, but -- the muses don't do this. They mostly don't do anything. They watch people do things. They talk about people doing things. They inspire people to create things, but usually not anything substantial. This? "I didn't know you were into resurrection."

"We're *not*. You're... we..." Thalia waves a hand wildly. "*I* don't know. Uh..."

Melpomene rolls her eyes. "As soon as you had the basics, you accessed the infrastructure of your annoying--"

"--And tragic--"

"--Family, to renew yourself. We just regrew the trickster part of you -- the god part, that grows back -- so you had somewhere to stand to do it."

That... works, actually. He thinks. "Regrow. So that makes you... fertilizer?"

Continued...

Twin eye-rolls, this time. "If you're going to be like that, we may as well go," Melpomene says severely. "We're supposed to be keeping our heads down, and my confidence in Polyhymnia not letting on we're *not* is..."

"Nonexistent?"

"...*Limited*."

They rise as one. "There's nothing special about this place," Thalia says. "Not for anyone but us, at least. I expect you can lie low here as long as you like."

"If I don't mind opera."

"I suppose there is that. We may be around."

"Or we may not. It depends."

"But we will catch up... after."

"If there is one."

After another quick exchange of looks, they each offer him their free hand. Gabriel thinks of refusing the help, is reminded again that *everything hurts*, and accepts the tug to his feet -- and more. They leave him sitting on a settee with blue satin tasseled pillows in the prop room of some theater, listening to Italian opera.

They didn't have a lot of power to share, and it's nothing like Grace. Mostly what they have to give is essentially the same inspiration they give to humans. It *does* lend strength, and it *will* help him recover, but it also leaves a nagging urge to write both comedies and tragedies.

"Convenient," he mutters, and sits back for a more thorough assessment of the healing yet to be done.

###

The other reason they didn't turn up much in the myths is that they had a lot to do with writing them.

It's always the quiet ones.

---

(Fine. There it is. Now maybe I can get some homework done.)

This is really quick, and more of a beginning than a full thing, and I might expand on it later in non-comment-y form...

***

Dean had never seen a god in mourning.

Kali sat silently in the backseat as they drove, and her stillness was almost deathly for about two miles. But when light flared behind them, blinding and horrific, Dean glanced up into the rear view mirror and caught her face in the glare.

He swallowed. That was an expression he hoped never to see directed towards him.

"Oh god," Sam said blankly, as the light died. "He's--"

"Don't say it," Kali snapped. Her voice rasped, the firm feminine voice thrumming over what sounded disturbingly like the growl of a lion, and a death rattle.

Sam shot Dean a panicked look.

Dean kept driving. Every once in a while he'd look back at the goddess. After fifteen minutes, he could swear he saw the faint outlines of black arms around her. Forty-five, and her eyes were definitely changing. A sword flickered in and out of the grasp of one of the slowly solidifying extra arms. Jesus fucking Christ.

Dean floored it, and got them into a motel three towns over. When they pulled into the parking lot, he swung around to face her. "Listen, Kali--"

"Be silent."

Dean, for once in his life, obeyed. Kali's skin had darkened to near blackness, and not the blackness of African skin, but an absence of light so absolute it hurt to look at it.

In a moment of complete surreality, she let herself out of the Impala, echoes of arms and legs following her like living shadows. In uncertain panic, the Winchesters followed suit.

Kali surveyed them, eyes looking like fire. "Look after what he left you. But know this--you are still bound to me by blood. So is he. And I am not done with any of you.

"You will see me again."

And with a swirl of black smoke and the hot smell of freshly shed blood, she was gone.

"Holy shit," Sam said, voice shaking.

"Dude, I think Lucifer just made a mistake," Dean said.

That is *amazing.* Seriously. I like all the asides, and "it's always the quiet ones" made me laugh out loud.

Omg this was amazing. The muses! Gabriel as a tragicomedy! Genius. Thank you so much for writing this, thank you. <3

Wheee! This is gorgeous, and I love your portrayal of Kali. I do hope you'll continue this - it's certainly an excellent beginning. :)

(And damn, I really need a Kali icon!)

Thank you! I shall try to continue it. I sort of want to make it the new beginning for another idea I was trying out before...it may all end in tears, but in the meantime, it's good fun!

Kali icon ftw!

No, he's not. There are a number of archangels honored depending your tradition, but Lucifer is only nominally one of them if you ignore the fact that he's Fallen. The usual four archangels are Michael, Rafael, Gabriel and Uriel. Phanuel, Zachariel/Saraquel, and Simiel also count, as do Sealtiel, Yehudiel, Barachiel, Raguel, Remiel and Azrael depending on which books you're reading and which sages you talk to.

Not in the mythos according to the creators. There's an interview where they asked specifically about who was the fourth archangel since Uriel wasn't an archangel, and they said Lucifer was the fourth.

So it just depends on how closely you hew to the creators' canon.

We're writing fix-it fic for possibly one of the most blasphemous episodes ever. I think the answer here is "Not At All"

EDIT: Do you have a link to the interview? Because I've never heard anything about that, and it's an odd shift.

Edited 2010-04-25 02:43 (UTC)

None of which has any bearing on Supernatural since Sera Gamble's said the four archangels are Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Lucifer.

lol, I agree.

Here. (http://www.winchesterbros.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4924&Itemid=1) It's an interview with Sera.

To paraphrase my comment to Tiptoe, "PFFT, and?" This is fix-it fic, and it's never been explicitly stated in the show.

TBF, when I responded to you originally, I'd never heard of the interview, but my feeling on the topic is pretty much unchanged.

I see. :|

I'm going to go curl up and scream "WTAF" at the walls for a while.

SUPERNATURAL POST 5x19 FIX-IT MEME

Inspired by <lj user=denazia>

Re: Mahakali, Gabriel/Kali, PG13

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Tragicomedy

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