"History Lesson"

[library_j]

Fic:  History Lesson

 

Title:  History Lesson

Author:  jessebee 

Rating:  PG13, for cussin'

Genre and/or Pairing:  preslash, Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 5x08, perhaps

Warnings:  Do not use while standing in water; also, possibly blasphemy of the Christian kind.  If that bugs you, what the hell are you doing here, anyway?

Word Count:  ~950

Summary:  Oldest Living Trickster tells all
 

Note:  originally written for comment_fic comment_fic on this prompt: alieneyes on March 4th, 2010 08:05 pm (UTC)   Supernatural, Gabriel, "Let me tell you a little story about an apple that's not really an apple, a tree that's not really a tree, and a serpent that, oddly enough, was a serpent..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"So, what, you're saying that it's all allegory, then?  No big surprise there," Dean says.

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but doesn't move from his sprawl against the pile of pillows he'd magicked onto the bed.  "And there's your twenty-five cent word for the day."  Dean's glare has no more effect than it ever does. 

 

"So," Sam says slowly, "is any of it true?"  His stomach feels a little funny.

 

"True?  Sure.  The "literal Inspired Word?""  Gabriel curves his fingers into air quotes, then flipps his hand.  "Depends on what you mean by inspiration, and what they were drinking at the time.  Literal?  Not so much."

 

"It's something like your human game of 'telephone,'" Castiel says from his straight-backed perch on the edge of Dean's bed.  "The message starts with one and is told to another, and another…."

 

"And by the time it gets to the other end, it's screwed, sure."  Dean nods.  He's laying on his side, body curved, head propped on one hand and knees nearly touching Castiel's hip, and Sam wonders for the umpteenth time if his brother has any clue at all what signals he's firing off.  "So the oldest parts are the most wacked, then, like all the rules in Leviticus, and Eve and the apple and that whole "build a planet in seven days" thing."

 

Both of Gabriel's eyebrows go up this time.  "You've actually read the Bible."

 

Sam nearly catches his breath, but the "okay, yes, I'll play nice already" promise Dean had made him earlier holds.  "Grew up in motel rooms, 'Gabe.'  If the tv didn't work, sometimes Gideon was the only story going," his brother says flatly.  "So tell me a better one, 'cause seven days?  Uh-uh."

 

Gabriel smirks, Trickster peeking out at the corners of it.  "Seven days?  What's time to God?  Or to me, or most angels, for that matter?" he adds with a shrug.  Castiel – twitches, just a little.

 

"Seven is a sacred number in more than a few traditions," Sam says, watching Gabriel intently.  "Okay, so are most of the low prime numbers, but seven in particular."  Gabriel looks directly at him, smirk widening, and points a finger at him. 

 

Then he sits up abruptly, tailor-style, in the middle of the mattress, the motion a little too smooth to be completely human.  "So, you want the low-down on history, huh?" he says, still watching Sam.

 

Oh yes, please, Sam thinks, and somehow even the realization that he's just basically begged a mind-reading Trickster can't damp his enthusiasm.

 

"Yeah, we do," Dean says and Sam starts; for a moment, pinned in Gabriel's gaze, he'd nearly forgotten his brother was in the room.  "Where was the Garden, anyway?  'Cause Iraq don't look much like Paradise to me."

 

"Paradise."  Gabriel rolls the word on his tongue.  "Well.  Dear Dad made us," a hand gesture includes the angel by Dean's side, "and then he made this world, because hey, what good's a show like that if it doesn't have an audience?  And it was beautiful, it really was."  He still faced Sam but Sam didn't think he was seeing their current room anymore.  "All the bits in place, evolving to just the point He wanted it, ticking along all clean and green and gorgeous.  We thought it was done.  And then …."

 

Sam finds himself sitting forward on the edge of his chair, knees nearly touching the bed.  "And then?"

 

Gabriel blinks.  Snorts.  "And then he came up with you lot."

 

"Us."

 

"Hu-man-ity.  And for you guys dear old Dad creates something new.  Not enough that He's got his adoring, devoted First Born.  No, instead he builds something smaller, softer, weaker than us, drops it in our Garden, tells us to play nice - and gives it the biggest, shiniest gun in the arsenal."

 

And it all clicks together.  "Free will," Sam breathes.  "You guys were literally created to obey – "

 

"And we weren't," Dean finishes.  There's something strained in his eyes as he looks up sideways at Castiel.  "So we got kicked out over something we couldn't even help?"

 

Gabriel snorts again.  "Kicked out, nothing.  You left.  Of your own – " there go the air quotes again "-"free"will."

 

"So Eden wasn't a real place?"  That thought makes something twinge in Sam's chest.

 

"No, Eden was real."  Gabriel's eyes go distant again, and Sam could swear there's an odd brightness in them.  "That was the place where Dad most often came, where we all came because He did.  It was perfect, every leaf, every rock just oozing with grace.  The best of Heaven and Earth."

 

Sam almost doesn't want to break the silence that falls, but he has to know.  "What happened?"

 

Gabriel focuses in on him, and there really is a spark of gold in the archangel's eyes.  "It wasn't enough for you.  Living in perfection, wanting for nothing, but you wanted anyway.  So out you went out and away to see the world, to kill things and tear up the earth to grow shit, cutting the trees, losing the soil.  By the time a few of you eventually realized that you'd fouled your own nest and tried to come back, the gates were barred.  You weren't gonna get to screw Eden up too."

 

"So – no apple," Dean says after a minute.

 

"Nor was the Tree actually a tree," Castiel offers, "although there were powerful things made from the wood of the Garden."

 

"And because other people couldn't suck it up and deal, Eve got stuck with the bad rep."  Gabriel pauses.  Then shakes himself, and there's a loud snap of fingers.  When he looks at Sam this time, it's all Trickster.  "But she did have a pet snake," he drawls, and bites into his shiny red apple.

Comments

[mclachlan.livejournal.com]

This was absolutely fantastic. And there's probably a modicum of truth to it. ;-D

[library-j.livejournal.com]

And there's probably a modicum of truth to it.

Stories DO rather get twisted up over time, don't they? ;-) Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you liked it!

[mulder200.livejournal.com]

Hm. That was quite a tale there.

It's interesting how the truth gets lost over time.

[library-j.livejournal.com]

It is interesting, isn't it? It's a concept I'd love to play more with, if I get the time and the bunnies. ;-) I think there are lots of stories like this to tell. Thanks for commenting!