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Title: Birds of Passage
Author: neotoma
Artist:cashay
Genre/Pairing: (slash & drama), Sam/Gabriel/Vessel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~61,000
Warnings/Spoilers: gore/animal sacrifice, gore, implied past abuse, gore/torture, homophobia/transphobia, set post-S5 SPN/ S1 Jericho
Summary: Lucifer is back in his Cage, but one averted Apocalypse doesn't mean much in the face of another, more human one. Sam Winchester, the Archangel Gabriel, and a man millennia out of his own time have wandered into a small Kansas town, where they get to deal with tree thieves, suspicious sheriffs, shady characters, political in-fighting, looming starvation, and the occasional pagan deity passing through. It's just one damn thing on top of another after The End of the World. [Crossover with JERICHO (tv series)]
Epilogue: A dime and a dollar and a one-way ticket home
It'd been two years since Jake staggered off in pursuit of a nuclear bomb with no plan, no back-up and no idea what he was doing. That he didn't get himself killed by gun or air-to-air missile or just plain exhaustion since then is probably a miracle, and maybe a blessing from an actual angel.
He was sitting in a train car, clicking his way towards home, surrounded by troops heading toward the front– the Rocky Mountains theater, with Cheyenne bottled up and most of the High Plains in open revolt from the corporatists who'd almost succeeded in stealing the country from everyone.
He was heading home.
He was dreaming.
He knew he was dreaming, because he opened his eyes to find himself sitting in his train cabin – he rated a semi-private cabin now, what with being the guy who delivered the nuke to Texas, and thus Texas to the USA – with Bill Koehler sitting across from him, looking out the window, his face melancholy and tired-looking.
He hadn't seen Bill in two years, not since he'd gone after the bomb. Why he would be dreaming of Bill, instead of Eric and Mom or even Mom and Dad...
Then the guy turned away from the window, to look at Jake, and Jake gasped. Those hazel gold eyes that shone with their own light, and a lily tucked behind one ear – that wasn't Bill.
"Hi, Jake," the angel said.
"Hi," Jake said in a weak voice.
"So, you're coming home."
"I am."
"Took you long enough."
"I couldn't come home right afterward. Cheyenne was looking for me – I had assassins come after me even in Columbus!"
"Such is the fate of heroes."
"I'm not a hero!" Jake hissed. He hated being called that – he'd done what he had to, but the adulation made him feel guilty. He knew what a fuck-up he'd been; finally doing the right thing was finally doing the right thing, not worth all the fawning.
"Okay, sure, if you like," the angel shrugged, and fingered the trumpet that Jake just noticed was in his lap. "But, coming home, finally. I'll have to tell the boys."
"I sent letters." He had – paper letters, that the Red Cross promised to try and deliver, because email home was likely to fry on the ASA firewall, and that was if anyone even had access to a computer and the internet anymore. USA forces had found more than one town with ruined phone and electrical lines, a sort of electronic scorched earth tactic.
The angel laughed, "Even I couldn't get your letters through, Jake my boy, and I'm the patron of the postal service. The ASA had censors everywhere."
"Damnit... So no one knows I'm coming?"
"I know. Because I'm awesome."
Jake just frowned at the angel.
"Hrafn will tell everyone, when he wakes up."
"Everyone thinks Hrafn is crazy."
"True," the angel said, his face twisting into a ridiculous put-upon expression, "but they don't usually think he's wrong. Not anymore."
"Oh," Jake said.
"There will be a party for you, don't you worry, kiddo."
"I'm not worried."
"Yeah, right."
"I just want to know what's going on back home."
The angel leaned forward, and looked into Jake's eyes. "I can tell you..."
"Oh, thank god. Tell!"
"... but I think I'd rather it be a surprise. Time to wake up, Jake." And he snapped his fingers.
Jake gasped, his eyes flying open.
"Goddamnit," Jake said.
One of his cabin-mates, one of the Marine NCOs, looked at him. "You okay, dude?"
Jake nodded. "Weird dream. Angels are dicks."
The Marine's eyebrows bounced up in surprise. Jake was about to apologize, worried that the guy might be actually religious, when the guy said, "Yeah, ain't that the truth."
FINIS
Previous
Author: neotoma
Artist:cashay
Genre/Pairing: (slash & drama), Sam/Gabriel/Vessel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~61,000
Warnings/Spoilers: gore/animal sacrifice, gore, implied past abuse, gore/torture, homophobia/transphobia, set post-S5 SPN/ S1 Jericho
Summary: Lucifer is back in his Cage, but one averted Apocalypse doesn't mean much in the face of another, more human one. Sam Winchester, the Archangel Gabriel, and a man millennia out of his own time have wandered into a small Kansas town, where they get to deal with tree thieves, suspicious sheriffs, shady characters, political in-fighting, looming starvation, and the occasional pagan deity passing through. It's just one damn thing on top of another after The End of the World. [Crossover with JERICHO (tv series)]
Epilogue: A dime and a dollar and a one-way ticket home
It'd been two years since Jake staggered off in pursuit of a nuclear bomb with no plan, no back-up and no idea what he was doing. That he didn't get himself killed by gun or air-to-air missile or just plain exhaustion since then is probably a miracle, and maybe a blessing from an actual angel.
He was sitting in a train car, clicking his way towards home, surrounded by troops heading toward the front– the Rocky Mountains theater, with Cheyenne bottled up and most of the High Plains in open revolt from the corporatists who'd almost succeeded in stealing the country from everyone.
He was heading home.
He was dreaming.
He knew he was dreaming, because he opened his eyes to find himself sitting in his train cabin – he rated a semi-private cabin now, what with being the guy who delivered the nuke to Texas, and thus Texas to the USA – with Bill Koehler sitting across from him, looking out the window, his face melancholy and tired-looking.
He hadn't seen Bill in two years, not since he'd gone after the bomb. Why he would be dreaming of Bill, instead of Eric and Mom or even Mom and Dad...
Then the guy turned away from the window, to look at Jake, and Jake gasped. Those hazel gold eyes that shone with their own light, and a lily tucked behind one ear – that wasn't Bill.
"Hi, Jake," the angel said.
"Hi," Jake said in a weak voice.
"So, you're coming home."
"I am."
"Took you long enough."
"I couldn't come home right afterward. Cheyenne was looking for me – I had assassins come after me even in Columbus!"
"Such is the fate of heroes."
"I'm not a hero!" Jake hissed. He hated being called that – he'd done what he had to, but the adulation made him feel guilty. He knew what a fuck-up he'd been; finally doing the right thing was finally doing the right thing, not worth all the fawning.
"Okay, sure, if you like," the angel shrugged, and fingered the trumpet that Jake just noticed was in his lap. "But, coming home, finally. I'll have to tell the boys."
"I sent letters." He had – paper letters, that the Red Cross promised to try and deliver, because email home was likely to fry on the ASA firewall, and that was if anyone even had access to a computer and the internet anymore. USA forces had found more than one town with ruined phone and electrical lines, a sort of electronic scorched earth tactic.
The angel laughed, "Even I couldn't get your letters through, Jake my boy, and I'm the patron of the postal service. The ASA had censors everywhere."
"Damnit... So no one knows I'm coming?"
"I know. Because I'm awesome."
Jake just frowned at the angel.
"Hrafn will tell everyone, when he wakes up."
"Everyone thinks Hrafn is crazy."
"True," the angel said, his face twisting into a ridiculous put-upon expression, "but they don't usually think he's wrong. Not anymore."
"Oh," Jake said.
"There will be a party for you, don't you worry, kiddo."
"I'm not worried."
"Yeah, right."
"I just want to know what's going on back home."
The angel leaned forward, and looked into Jake's eyes. "I can tell you..."
"Oh, thank god. Tell!"
"... but I think I'd rather it be a surprise. Time to wake up, Jake." And he snapped his fingers.
Jake gasped, his eyes flying open.
"Goddamnit," Jake said.
One of his cabin-mates, one of the Marine NCOs, looked at him. "You okay, dude?"
Jake nodded. "Weird dream. Angels are dicks."
The Marine's eyebrows bounced up in surprise. Jake was about to apologize, worried that the guy might be actually religious, when the guy said, "Yeah, ain't that the truth."
FINIS
Previous
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From:
no subject
Yeah, the people who write Gabriel-as-Loki stories seem to have read the myths, but that's it. And even then, they just don't handle those myths to my satisfaction, though I confess I may just be picky.
Your sequel idea sounds like it would be a good one, though I completely understand being reluctant to write issues like you mentioned, since it's painful! Any time I've written something that's left me an emotional wreck, I'd have to write a fluff piece to make myself feel better. If you write the sequel, great, and if not... well, that's what imaginations are for!
From:
no subject
Well, to be fair, people probably think they know about the Vikings, but what they actually know is the Hollywood version of the Vikings. Like a theme-park version, but with more blood.
I still wince whenever I run into something outrageously wrong, like complete ignorance about the Norse attitudes towards divorce (unfortunate, but completely legal and not even shameful) or women's status (surprisingly high, compared to the period's Christian culture).
It would be emotionally difficult, take a long time, and might not be very good or even comprehensible to anyone, so I'm hesitant to write it.