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A Cause Greater >> Gadreel X Reader

Title: A Cause Greater

Paring: Gadreel X Reader

Warnings: mentions of death and religious themes.

Spoilers: Yep, for Season 9, Episode 23. 

Author's Note: I was having some serious Gadreel feels (hey, that rhymed) and I thought, just get it out via fanfic, that's where we expel our angst, Susie, and you know what? I did. Hope you like reading the story! 

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His eyes open, but that cannot be possible. He died. He sacrificed himself, and Metatron –

But his eyes were open. The world was blurry, but there was light, oh, light, glorious, heavenly light. For a second, the heart of his vessel sped up, frightened by the prospect that he was locked in heaven, in the terrible room he knew all too well. But the light he saw was fading, a face appearing before it. The round, (s/c) shade of skin he had familiarised himself with through fleeting moments with his time on Earth. Those wide, bright (e/c) eyes, the lips that parted at the sight of him, as always.

His little ________.

"Gad?" She whispers.

Her voice is loud to his ears, but he doesn't flinch. Oh no, he can't bring himself to. He's heard the voice of God and the tempestuous temper of the child Metatron and heard of the wrath of his brother the Devil – but he cannot bring himself to flinch at the words from her lips.

"Give him time, little witch," the gravelly voice of the risen demon Crowley filled his ears. At this, Gadreel's eyes widened, and the light that had filled his vision passed. The brothers Winchester stood behind the beautiful young girl, and beside them, his brother Castiel, and Crowley. "Nice body you got there, Gadreel. I think I like you better when I'm not in you."

Dean clears his throat. "Leave the innuendos at the door, crossroads."

"I –," His voice is not in his throat as he begins to talk, but as he does, it slides up, and into its proper place. "This cannot be possible."

Sam Winchester crosses his arms, his jaw out. He thinks that Sam does not like him much, and what he thinks is true. But he had only been following orders in which he had been told were to the path to redemption – he knew from being within Sam's own head that the man had done actions similar before. Everyone, angel or no, can be deceived. But Sam does not answer his half-formed query.

"I considered a lot of places," the fair voice of ______ explains. "It took days until I gave up on dark magic. Everyone except Crowley didn't want my reputation damaged. But Crowley doesn't care about me, he just likes an excuse to chant in a circle and sacrifice something."

The demon nodded, his small weakness revealed.

"But I sacrificed myself, so everyone could survive." He whispered. His back hurt, his neck growing a cramp. He slowly moved, and realised where he was placed. The walls were painted a shade of (f/c), and the bed was spread with an assortment of colourful covers, and stuffed animals and the occasional pillow. Most of said pillows were behind his head, his back, propping him upright. "If I am alive, and you are all here...then I failed. We are all dead."

Castiel shakes his head. "Have a little faith, brother."

He turns his attention back to _________. Her hair is up, but strands are coming from her hairstyle, falling into her eyes like the beautiful maiden she is. When he first met her, battled her with her abilities over the supernatural realm, he had come second in the fight, and was left with a curiosity that a soul so young could manipulate magic so adeptly. Her eyes are almost glowing, or are they forming tears? He can't be sure, but, oh, he feels a tug in his chest at the sight of her tears. She has no reason to cry, no matter what her crimes are.

"If you used not dark magic, what did you do to bring me back?" The words find themselves in his mouth, tumbling out from between the cracks of his vessel's teeth. A realisation hits him, harder than the pain already in his chest at her tears, "You did not sell your soul, please –,"

_______ shakes her head. "Gadreel, please, you need to rest," she wipes her eyes, placing a hand delicately upon his arm. "I still have my soul."

"Then how?" He presses.

Dean smirks. "Wait 'til you hear," he chuckles, almost in disbelief.

________'s face is coloured, a heat to her usual (s/c) pallor. "I prayed. I prayed to your father for almost four days. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I cried. I – Gadreel, I prayed for you to come back so I could tell you the things that I wasn't brave enough to say before." The tears that had been welling in her eyes before fell.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to get a whiskey."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I shall come with you. You can't be trusted alone with liqueur."

At that, Sam Winchester frowned. "Says the guy who drank a liquor store," he pursed his lips, and followed the two people in the room who wore coats too big for them. Dean turned his head, seeing everyone go, and left behind his brother, no words uttered.

"Father brought me back?" he whispers.

________ nods. "I found you after a supply run a day ago. I was checking in the hospital for any suspicious John Does, like we're always...and then I saw you. Thank goodness the boys are so good at mocking up fake paperwork." She gives a grin, reminiscing. "You're my fiancé."

He freezes. "God married us?" He doesn't know what to do. He hasn't had the nerve to tell the little human witch how he feels, but to have it decreed?

"No! Gosh, no." She laughs. "We're fake fiancés. Unless you want to do that," she suggests, laughing once more.

But he is not joking. He's just woken up when he had truly believed he had sacrificed himself for a cause greater than himself, to fix the problems he had caused. No, Gadreel is not jesting, not being playful, not fooling around with his words.

"I want to do that, one day," he replies. "With you. I heard that before we progress to that, we should date first."

Outside the door, he hears Crowley choke on his drink.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Gadreel," ________ smiles.