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Metatron reached the hidden door at the end of the hallway and after checking the wards surrounding the place he descended down the stairs.
His plan had been absolutely flawless.
He got rid of his siblings with the help of the still so deliciously naïve little Castiel and all he needed to do now was to place all the pieces at their destined positions. Gadreel had turned out to be hilariously easy to manipulate and of course Castiel’s weariness was to be expected after he had been abused to close off heaven but Metatron already had a plan to overcome this obstacle without having to start rushing things.
And then he had to put a spoke in his wheels.
Maybe he should have expected nothing less from this particular brother but Metratron still felt unusually angry about this hitch in his carefully crafted plans.
The scribe reached the bottom of the staircase and for a moment he stopped, taking in the sight in front of him.
Everything seemed completely normal, nothing was out of place. His captive was still lying in the same position on the cold block of stone in the middle of the room, unconscious and vulnerable, grace tied to Metatron’s will through the blood the scribe had snatched from this insignificant pagan goddess.
Looking at his brother’s body Metatron allowed himself a short moment of prideful satisfaction. It had been so easy to collect his brother’s vessel from the hotel he had died in, all the power of heaven making it childsplay for Metatron to go back in time and safe it from being destroyed by humans after they wasted their time to confirm stabbing as the more than obvious cause of death. Collecting the archangel’s grace had been a little bit trickier but seeing that he didn’t need all of it Metatron decided to content himself with all the splinters he could find.
Metatron stepped nearer, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the blood still marring the dark shirt of his brother’s vessel. For a moment he thought that the form of the stain had changed, had grown smaller somehow but that was impossible. Gabriel was locked up inside his vessel, barely alive, his grace still mostly shattered and the few shards he had found were bound tightly to his new master.
And still he had almost managed to give Castiel all the hints he needed to detect that he was trapped inside an illusion before Metatron had the chance to capture the former angel and tie him up in his study.
"How did you do it?"
Determined he reached out and placed his hand on Gabriel’s forehead, concentrating on connecting himself with his older brother. The scribe closed his eyes, sinking deeper and deeper inside Gabriel’s mind but he found – nothing. Not the slightest hint that something was amiss and Metatron would have backed off this instant hadn’t there been the undeniable fact that Gabriel had defied him.
Prodding against the sigils he used to keep his brother bound Metatron still tried to figure out what happened when he suddenly realised that some of the sigils had been rearranged, not enough for Gabriel to free himself but more than sufficient to weaken their original meaning.
"You obnoxious little shit."
From time to time Metatron enjoyed it to test out human swearwords and this one just seemed astonishingly appropriate.
"Even bound like this you still attempt to defy me."
Metatron reversed the changes Gabriel had done and leaned in, bringing his mouth to the archangel’s ear.
"Don’t you dare doing something like this ever again. You won’t like what would happen next."
Smiling in satisfaction Metatron left, secure in the knowledge, that Gabriel was clever enough to understand that not only his continued existence depended on Metatron’s goodwill but also those of Castiel and all the other angels he had thrown out of heaven.
The scribe returned to his typewriter, his thoughts already lost in the magnificent story he had wanted to write for so long now.
Completely absorbed in his work he missed the slight flare of grace and in the dark chamber hidden deep inside the deepest heart of heaven the youngest archangel opened his eyes.
END.