Transmission from the Trickster

Chapter 42

The next two weeks are fairly quiet. Rumors of Donald Trump's dementia start circulating again — doubtlessly due to a certain archangel messing around the White House — and some ICE agents — the agency responsible for separating immigrant kids from their parents and locking them in cages — find themselves locked in a zebra pen in a zoo in Rhode Island — but other than the occasional potential sighting of Gabriel's handiwork, it's fairly normal.

"Okay, this one wins," Dean says, holding up a card. "This one definitely, definitely wins."

"Of course it does," Ketch replies. "My card matching skills are exquisite."

They're sitting around the library table, playing an interesting round of Cards Against Humanity, and when Dean read the card, "Do not fuck with me. I am literally ______ right now," Ketch didn't hesitate with his, "Seeing things from Hitler's perspective."

"Are you just saying that because you killed Hitler?" Sam asks.

"Maybe," Dean says.

"Who's Hitler?" Jack asks.

"Moving on," Sam says quickly. "Ketch, your turn."

Ketch picks up a black card and reads, "In the seventh circle of hell, sinners must endure blank for all eternity."

"This just got way too real," Dean mutters, but puts a card in anyway.

Everyone else does the same, and after about a minute, Ketch reads them all out. "'A lifetime of sadness.' 'Not having sex.' '72 virgins' — how is that a bad thing?"

"Well, put it together with 'not having sex,' and I'd say that's the definition of hell," Dean says, laughing a bit at his own joke, but his face falls when he sees his mother shoot him a look.

"'Poorly-timed Holocaust jokes' —"

"What's a Holocaust?" Jack asks.

"And 'A bunch of idiots playing a card game instead of interacting like normal humans'," Ketch finishes quickly, before anyone can answer him. "I have to go with —"

There's a quiet whoosh, and suddenly, Gabriel is crouched on the ground a few feet away, coughing up blood on the wooden floor.

"What the —" Dean mutters.

"Gabriel? What happened?" Sam asks.

Gabriel holds up a shaking hand as if telling him to wait a minute, but he quickly slams his hand back on the floor as he coughs up another splatter of blood.

"I change my answer," Dean says. "In the seventh circle of hell, sinners must endure whatever the hell happened to him."

"Fuck you," Gabriel manages to choke out.

"Thought you had your boyfriend for that," Dean says.

Sam elbows his brother in the ribs. "Now is not the time."

Dean just rolls his eyes.

Sam kneels next to the angel, leaving about a foot between them in case he decides he doesn't want the hunter there and would instead rather fling him across the room. "Are you okay?"

Gabriel gives him a thumbs up, keeping his arm firmly pushed against the floor to support himself.

"You don't look very thumbs-up-worthy," Jack tells him.

As if to demonstrate that, Gabriel coughs up some more blood.

"Can I get you something?" Sam asks, just to feel like he's doing something.

Gabriel shakes his head.

"Would you like anyone to do anything?" Mary asks.

Gabriel shakes his head again.

"Okay," Dean says haltingly, "I'm just going to go somewhere that isn't here." He walks away, and, with a glance at Gabriel, Ketch and Castiel follow him. It almost seems rude, but when there's nothing for them to do, Gabriel would probably prefer it this way.

"Maybe I could..." Jack walks over to the archangel and takes a knee by his side. He puts a hand on Gabriel's back and while the archangel flinches, he doesn't knock the hand off, as if sensing Jack trying to heal him. It doesn't work, though, and after a few moments, Jack gives up. "I'm sorry. I'm still not sure what I can and can't do."

Gabriel holds up a finger, gesturing for the boy to wait a minute. He closes his eyes as if mentally preparing himself for it before he shifts his position so he's lying on his back, showing the true extent of the damage done to him.

The tattered remains of his shirt are soaked in blood, and what skin can be seen is just long, deep scratches. His pants aren't a whole lot better, the blue denim turned an almost black color, with a few scratches across his legs, and his head is coated in blood, cuts littering his face.

"Are you okay?" Mary asks.

"Never better," Gabriel breathes. "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you just got thrown in the lion pen at a zoo," Sam tells him.

"Keeping up with my latest travels, are we, Sammy?" Gabriel asks teasingly, and it's almost amazing that he can still manage to mock the hunter in this condition.

"It's hard to ignore," Sam replies, thinking of the ICE agents locked in the zebra cage. "What happened to you?"

"Asmodeus happened," Gabriel says darkly.

"Asmodeus?" Sam repeats. "He found you?"

"I found him," Gabriel corrects him. "Bad idea. I don't recommend it."

"Why would you do that?" Sam asks, exasperated.

"Poorly planned payback," Gabriel replies.

"At least you're alive, so it couldn't have been too bad," Mary says, a halfhearted attempt to be optimistic.

Gabriel just lets out a long breath, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he says, "So, I think I'm going to take Dean up on his offer, if you don't mind me crashing here for a little bit."

"Uh, sure?" Sam says uncertainly.

"Yes!" Jack says excitedly. "You need to tell us more stories — if you want, and only when you're feeling better, of course, which hopefully will be soon."

Gabriel smiles slightly. "I'm a fountain of stories, kid. I've still got a few more to tell, if you're willing to listen."

Jack grins. "I can't wait!"