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qeterqujll · 5 years

Text

angels; your best friends are the four most problematic angels in heaven

characters: castiel x reader, gabriel x reader, lucifer x reader, balthazar x reader, dean winchester, sam winchester

a/n: i might try and do a few of these because these four are my favorite i literally cannot handle it. so this is kind of a prologue to that series.

Dean is glaring at you from across the room, staring distastefully at the other four beings standing in front of you. Sam is gone for the day, but Dean’s sure he’d throw a fit if he saw the group standing in their kitchen chatting away while you cook them pie– pie. They’re getting pie and that is not okay with him. Angels don't even eat and now you’re cooking them pie.

“Winchester,” Lucifer spits, glaring back at Dean, “I hope you know that I can hear you.”

“Good,” Dean bites back, crossing his arms as he stands, making his way to your side, “what can I think that’ll make you disappear?”

“Dean,” you snap, whipping around with a whisk pointed at the Winchester, “we talked about this. He’s fine.”

Lucifer’s frown shift’s into a pleased grin, sauntering over to you happily, not missing the opportunity to shoulder past Dean and replace him at your side.

“Lucifer,” Castiel sighs, beginning another unsuccessful attempt at playing mediator between the fallen angel and the Winchester, “you are being childish.”

“Oh, I’m being childish, little brother?” he scoffs, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms, “you should be talking to Gabriel.”

Dean shakes his head, staring at you as if to ask is this really who you invited to the Bunker? but you avoid his gaze and pretend to be very heavily invested in the eggs you’re cracking. Dean just sighs, grumbling something about angels being the bane of his existence before flopping back into his chair, brooding from a distance and scowling when Lucifer meets his gaze with a smirk.

“You’re just jealous because you’re not the favorite anymore,” Gabriel grins, “Don’t worry, Dean-o, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Sure,” Dean scoffs, opening one of his vintage magazines with a shake of his head and an annoyed sigh, “last time soon meant two weeks.”

He very vividly remembers finding the four angels in your room in various positions. Cas he expected, seeing as you had always been close to the angel, but Dean always assumed you and Cas had a thing going on, something he was not interested in asking about. But Cas was not the one laying on your bed, head in your lap as he flipped through one of the books you kept on your dresser. No, that was Gabe, and your hand was actually in his hair as you looked at something on your phone.

Fine, Dean had thought, fine, two angels. One he could handle, and the other he could half-tolerate.

When he spotted Balthazar looking through the lore books on your floor, picking up one about angels and flipping through it, he’d been more than a little bit surprised. He wasn’t sure when Balthazar had come back, and he was definitely not sure when he’d gotten close enough to you for you to allow him into the Bunker, but whatever. Balthazar was irritating, sure, but at least he’d helped them with Cas when they were desperate.

Then he saw Lucifer, laying on your other side with his legs crossed and his eyes closed in peaceful contentment.

He shakes his head at the memory, glancing one more time at the group before standing and storming up the stairs to his room. If he has to stand one more second of those four together with you he thinks he would be better off with Crowley in hell.

“What crawled up his arse and died?” Balthazar comments as Dean storms up the stairs. You sigh, shaking your head as you put the pies in the oven, one for the Winchesters and one for the angels (they insisted they’d enjoy it even though you know well enough from Cas that they won’t taste anything).

“You guys did,” you snort at your own comment, feeling a few glares on your back as you turn around to clean up the mess you’d made while cooking.

“I do not understand,” Castiel begins, “why would we be up Dean’s-”

“Can someone please smite him before I do?” Lucifer grumbles.

“No smiting in the Bunker, please.” “You humans and your rules,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move from his seat to approach the still confused Castiel, who has let any part of the conversation after Balthazar’s comment go over his head.

“Can you guys just,” you sigh, turning back towards the four angels sitting on the opposite side of the counter, “please behave yourselves around the boys. They’re still warming up to most of you.”

“They like Castiel,” Balthazar sighs, “I don’t understand why any of us are different from him.”

“Would you like the short list,” you look pointedly at Gabriel, “or the long one,” your gaze shifts to Lucifer. “Do the words Tuesday and Apocalypse ring any bells?”

“Michael started it,” Lucifer grumbles, “besides, that was ages ago. They’re too sensitive.”

“Yes, death will do that to someone,” you scoff, leaning towards Lucifer on the counter, “I know you’re not exactly up to par on humans, but we don’t exactly appreciate being killed.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

There’s sarcasm dripping from his words, but you ignore it, smiling happily and taking the conversation as a win. You walk around to the library, picking up the book you’d been reading on the history of vampires and werewolves, but it’s plucked from your hands and replaced by a lore book on angels that you have yet to read. You glance over the top of the book, but all four of the angels are minding their own business. You almost set the book down to find the one you’d been in the middle of when you hear, “if you’re going to read that nonsense, at least read interesting nonsense.”

You roll your eyes, gaze shifting from the angels to the page the book had been opened to in your hands, skimming the words before setting it down on the table, making your way back to the kitchen.

“That book says all humans have a guardian angel,” you glance between the four, “do I?”

“Well it did say all humans, didn’t it?”

“Hm,” you glance at your hands, clasped together on the counter, “who is it?”

“Would it make a difference?” Lucifer sighs, “we’re all here. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon, apparently.”

“Just curious. So all of you have a human you watch out for?”

“All angels have had one at some point,” Gabriel says, “but for most of us, our humans have died. Now we’re all stuck with you.”

“If you want to know if it’s one of the four of us,” Balthazar interrupts, “it is.”

You nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just meets your gaze with a smile on his face that tells you that you won’t be getting any more answers out of him.

“So it’s one of you. Then why do all four of you stick around if you don’t need to?”

“What is it you humans call...friendship? Companionship? Even angels get bored and you’re very entertaining,” Lucifer smirks and Castiel glares at him, but doesn’t comment. You snort, taking a handful of flour and blowing it at him, laughing at the unamused look on his now flour-covered face.

“Well I, for one, am quite entertained.”

“I am the most feared creature on this planet,” Lucifer deadpans, “and you just threw flour at me.”

“It’s the simple joys, Luci.”

In retaliation and with a single snap of his fingers, you feel what must be at least a pound of flour pour over you, covering you in the white powder.

“Well played,” you shake your head, a cloud of flour from the top of your head surrounding you, “you’d better watch your back.”

“You’re lucky you’re not a Winchester because threatening me would not be wise.”

You shrug, taking a handful of flour from the floor and throwing it at him, blowing a kiss when his scowl deepens. With another snap of his fingers, the flour surrounding him is gone.

“I still want to know which one of you is my guardian angel,” you glance between them, sitting on the only empty stool between Balthazar and Gabriel, who snaps his fingers to rid you of the flour covering you.

“Let’s just say we split the responsibility evenly,” Balthazar eventually says when the other three angels refuse to respond, “guardian angels only get one human to look after, and when they pass on we don’t get another human chosen specifically for us to watch over. And the one of us who is your real guardian angel will tell you eventually, but I personally don’t think it matters. I quite like this.”

He motions to the five of you sitting together at the counter and you smile, because you definitely like it too.

“You big ‘ol sap,” Gabriel shakes his head, snapping his fingers to make the pies materialize from the oven in front of him.

“Only one,” you remind him, “the other is for the boys.”

“I thought we were the boys,” Lucifer mutters with a mouth already full of pie.

“We are not boys,” Castiel states, “we are angels of the Lord.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lucifer scoffs.

“Sam’s home in a few,” you hear Dean shout from the balcony above you, “have fun explaining this little playdate to him.”

“Bye, Dean-o!”

Gabriel snaps his fingers and suddenly the silence of the Bunker’s kitchen is replaced by the sounds of heavy traffic and unfamiliar voices.

“Gabe,” you run a hand over your face, refusing to open your eyes and look at your surroundings, “where did you take us?”

“I believe we’re in Paris, darling.”

You open your eyes, the Eiffel Tower standing proudly in the distance. You turn towards Gabriel, who has taken a sudden interest in the the sky, although you can see the smirk on his face.

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighs, “we should go back. Dean will worry.”

“I’m sure Dean and that oaf brother of his will manage on their own for the rest of the day,” Lucifer puts an arm over your shoulders, guiding you towards the nearest cafe, “and I haven’t been to Paris since the Apocalypse.”

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qeterqujll · 5 years

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give and take (angels p.3); you sell your soul to save dean from the mark of cain and have to deal with four very angry angels telling you what an idiot you are (listen)

characters: castiel x reader, gabriel x reader, balthazar x reader, lucifer x reader, moc!dean winchester, sam winchester

warnings: angst, suicide? kind of, reader sells their soul, cursing, very angry angels

Numb. That’s all you feel as you drive back to the Bunker. The crossroads demon you’d met with was nothing but giggles and smiles as she locked lips with you, telling you how much of a pleasure it was doing business with someone so close to enemies of Hell, Winchester and angel alike. She assured you that you’d have a lot of fun in Hell once you made it there. She gave you two years instead of the standard ten, but it really didn't matter. You’d take what you could get and you didn’t expect any demons to take kindly to a hunter who had killed more of their kind than many hunters combined, so two years was fairly generous, all things considered. You can’t even imagine what they’re planning on doing with you in hell, but it was worth it. It was all worth it.

Now is the question of how you’re going to tell them.

The Winchesters will be the first to find out, seeing as you’ve been getting calls from Sam and Dean for the past hour after they discovered you and Dorothy’s bike gone from the Bunker. You sigh, turning your phone off and continuing on your way back to the Bunker, tears running down your cheeks as you think over the conversation you’d had with the demon. The promises she made you.

“You and your friends have a nasty habit of getting out of these deals. Last time the angel pulled your Winchester friend out and made him a new man. But we’re going to lock you up where none of them will be able to find you. No one can save you now.”

It’s making your head spin. You know, even with everything they’ll say about how stupid you are for doing it, it was the right thing. Dean is dying, and the only way to save him is a fair trade. A soul for a soul. And you figured that if no one else was willing to do it, you would. Dean will save double, hell maybe triple the lives you’ll ever be able to in your life. He's saved the world more than once while you’ve been on the sidelines, and for what? Fucking moral support?

The world needs Dean Winchester. The world doesn’t need you.

When you make it back to the Bunker, you sit in the garage for a good twenty minutes, trying to think of some explanation that won’t make the Winchesters kill you now instead of letting your wait out your two years. In the end you sigh and wipe everything you’d planned. They’ll understand. It’s for the greater good.

But Winchesters have never been very good with the concept of the greater good.

“Where were you?”

It’s Dean who approaches you first, and you almost burst into tears when you see him. You wonder if he’s already been saved, or if he’ll have to wait until you’re gone for the mark to disappear. You shake the thoughts away, clearing your throat and shouldering past Dean. A beer. You need a beer before you have this conversation.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Sam asks from Dean’s side, much less demanding then his brother but still with urgency, “you can’t just up and leave like that without telling us. We thought something had taken you.”

“I’m a grown-up,” you mutter, “I don’t need 24/7 supervision.”

“You’re a hunter,” Dean scoffs, “you really think we won’t assume you’re dead the second you go missing?”

“I wasn’t missing,” you roll your eyes, “I was out.”

“At two in the morning?” Dean spits, checking himself when you grimace at the anger in his tone, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Out where?”

They know. They know you did something, they can see it in your eyes. The guilt. It’s consuming you from the inside out and they can see it clear as day on your face.

Dean’s expression suddenly changes and he stands straighter. Hesitantly, you meet his gaze and you can see it in his eyes, in the anger and fear and frustration. He knows what you’re feeling because he’s felt it too. He knows what you did.

“Y/N, no,” he whispers, “tell me you didn’t.”

You shake your head, finding yourself unable to meet his piercing gaze, unable to answer the questions burning in his eyes, on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks, looking between you and Dean. Dean just stares at you, silent and brimming in the disappointed anger that he can barely contain. He wants to scream. He wants to punch something, someone. He wants to kill as many demons as he can find. He wants to go back in time and hear you walking past his door to get to the garage so he can do anything in his power to stop you.

“I sold my soul.”

They probably already know.

That’s what you tell yourself as you lay back on your bed, contemplating the best way to pray to the angels to tell them what you had done. You think through the possibilities and then realize that they’re angels. The number of ways they could’ve already found out that you’d sold your soul are countless, but you know they won’t believe anything unless they hear it from you.

You sit up, resting your head in your hands and tapping your foot against the floor as you once again go through all of the possible prayers you could send to them.

We need to talk.

I have something to tell you.

Hey, I’m a fucking idiot because I just sold my soul and I only have two years left so we’d better make it count-

“Tell me it’s not true.”

Gabriel is the first one in your room despite no prayer being sent to him. He stands in front of you and you keep your head hung low, tears already in your eyes because of the inevitable conversation you’re about to have.

“Gabe, I-” you choke on the words. You never imagined it being this hard. You can barely speak, let alone explain your decision, “I’m sorry.”

“How long?” his voice is quiet, but you wouldn’t have been able to miss the anger in it from miles away. You look up and meet his eyes, the same anger brimming in them as was in his voice, “Y/N, how long do you have?”

“Two years.”

He curses, turning with a hand pulling at his hair. You consider standing and approaching him, maybe giving him a hug and telling him that you’re okay with it, but you stay where you are and let him process the information how he needs to.

Lucifer is the next one in the room. He appears directly in front of you and takes your face in his hands, inspecting you for any sort of injury.

“Why is there something different about you?” he mumbles, finally looking up to meet your tear filled eyes.

“She sold her soul,” Gabriel doesn’t miss a beat with his response, turning back with messy hair and a softer, more broken look in his eyes. Lucifer stiffens and retracts his hands from your face, standing and disappearing before you can get a word in. Balthazar and Castiel take his place, both with similar expressions on their faces.

The pressure building in your chest is going to explode if you don’t say what you know has been sitting in the back of your mind since the moment the idea to sell your soul came to you. You just have to tell them, so that they know why. So that they know there was a reason.

“I did it because it was the right thing to do,” you rush out before either of them can question whether or not the rumors that you’re sure are circulating heaven and angel radio are true, “because the world...needs Dean Winchester.”

Balthazar opens his mouth, then rethinks his words and closes it, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyes narrowed at the corner of your bed.

“The world doesn’t need me.”

Silence follows your confession and you finally let the tension ease from your shoulders, sighing and dropping your head to your hands. You feel your palms become wet from tears and wipe them quickly, glancing at the three angels.

“Please say something,” you whisper, afraid that they’ll disappear as well, although with Lucifer’s temper you assume he’s gone somewhere to take his anger out on whoever or whatever he can find.

“You’re not–” Balthazar begins, pausing to gather his thoughts and let out a shaky sigh, “the world needs you. More then you will ever know. We need you.”

“You guys are going to be fine without me,” you chuckle, “you’ve gone lifetimes without me.”

Cas sits on the bed next to you, but he doesn’t look at you. A look of shock has passed over his features and he doesn’t look like he’ll be speaking about it to you anytime soon.

“Castiel, I’m sorry,” you place a hand on his shoulder, covering your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from sobbing out loud because of the empty, broken look on his face. You grasp onto his coat with a vice-like grip until your knuckles are white, “I’m so sorry. You know how important Dean is, you know we can't lose him.”

“Y/N, that is not-” Castiel begins, cutting himself off to rethink his words. “You are just as important as Dean is. No life is worth giving up your own.”

“But Dean–”

“I was going to save Dean! We were so close, Y/N, we almost had something that would’ve been able to take the mark off of him, and now–”

“And now we have a way. Now the mark will be gone. For good”

Castiel shakes his head, anger replacing the grief that had previously been on his face. He’s refusing to look at you and you know that he’s waiting for the right moment to give you a lecture about self sacrifice, one that you’d heard him give both Sam and Dean plenty of times.

“We weren’t close, Cas. You know we weren’t. This was the only way.”

“And what will happen to the mark? It can’t just disappear.”

You swallow roughly, having hoped this question wouldn’t come up. This was part of the deal, but you were hoping that they wouldn’t be too concerned about it. The mark would be gone, that’s all that matters.

“Y/N,” Gabriel speaks up, “answer him.”

“It’ll be with me. In Hell. And it won’t come anywhere near a living human again.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen immensely and he stands straighter while Balthazar and Castiel just stare at you in shock, too struck with surprise to be angry.

“It was the only way to make sure you were all safe from Amara.”

“Break the deal.”

It’s not until he speaks that you realize Lucifer has appeared back in the room, a demon held in the room by her shirt. The same demon you’d made a deal with not two hours earlier. She chuckles, spitting blood at the angel from an obvious altercation she’d just gotten into with him. Or maybe just a beating considering the crossroads demon didn’t seem to do much damage to Lucifer’s vessel.

“Should’ve known not to do business with an archangel’s bitch,” she spits at you, groaning when Lucifer throws her against your dresser and lets her sink against it, although her wicked smile never falls as she stares back at him, sparing a glance at Gabriel to her left. “Well what do you know? Two archangels.”

“Break the deal,” Lucifer growls, earning another laugh from the demon.

“Deals aren’t meant to be broken. It’s against the rules,” she snaps at him, “you boys should know by now that not everyone is worth being saved. And this self sacrificing human shouldn’t be worth your time-”

Lucifer raises a hand towards the demon, eyes flashing red as she cowers away from him. You’re not unaware of the effect he has on the demons he had previously ruled over and you’re sure that the confidence this demon is showing to him is wearing thin.

“Wait, don’t!” she stutters out, covering her face with her hands as some form of protection, “I can’t break deals!”

Lucifer stands in front of her and the rest of you watch him carefully. You’re all aware that Lucifer has an explosive temper, and if left unchecked you know he could take the whole Bunker down with the snap of his fingers. But he just takes a deep breath and lets out a humorless chuckle, lifting his hand and twisting it, watching the demon choke until she falls limp against the dresser. You let out a breath and Gabriel snaps his fingers, making the demon disappear from the room and leaving you to face the four angels with an explanation that you know they’ll never accept.

Lucifer is the last to turn towards you, facing the dresser with tension in his shoulders, his breathing heavy in the silence of the room. You stand, approaching him cautiously. You know he can sense your presence getting closer, but it doesn’t stop him from tensing even more when you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re choosing to die,” he says hoarsely, as if saying the words are straining him to say. He finally turns towards you, letting your hand drop to your side as his gaze burns into you, “you’re choosing to leave us.”

“I need to save Dean, I–”

“Please spare me this,” Lucifer scoffs, holding a hand up, “this is exactly why I knew that sticking around those Winchesters was going to get you killed.”

“Dean will do more for this world then I will ever be able to. You have to understand that I did this so that he could keep hunting, keep saving people.”

They all stare at you with a mixture of emotions. Castiel mostly looks confused because of the reasons for you selling your soul. Balthazar’s expression is twisted with so much pain that he looks like he might collapse, and Gabriel is just staring at the ground with no expression on his face at all, but that tells you all you need to know. But Lucifer looks angry. Angry that you’re leaving him for someone he had never believed in. Angry that you’re leaving him and the others at all.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Lucifer finally breaks the suffocating silence, “I will find a way to get you out of this.”

“It’s too late, Luce, it’s–” you choke out the words, shaking your head once you can’t seem to speak anymore, stuck staring at your hands and avoiding the four gazes burning into you, “It’s too late now.”

“It is not,” Lucifer’s voice cracks the tension in the air with its’ intensity. Your wide eyes shoot up to meet his red ones, anger twisted in his expression and his fists clenched at his sides. You stand, meeting his stance and gaze with as much intensity as you can muster. The others watch the interaction carefully, keeping their distance but still remaining close enough that they’d be able to intervene is necessary. Castiel has stood from the bed and is staring at his brother with his hands held out in front of him, although Lucifer is too busy studying your expression to notice the others circling the two of you.

“I chose this,” you finally break the silence, almost nose to nose with the fallen angel, “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but it’s not you decision to make. It’s my life.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by a sharp knock on the door followed by Dean’s voice asking if you’re alright. He must have heard Lucifer from downstairs, not that it’s surprising that his voice carried that far. You glance at Lucifer one more time before making your way to the door and cracking it open, sticking your head out so that the angels can’t see Dean and vice versa.

“The hell was that?” he grunts, grief still lingering in his eyes as he gazes at you, glancing at the crack in the door to try and get a glimpse at who’s in your room.

“It’s fine, Dean. Now’s just...not a great time to be barging in.”

He nods, turning on his heel and walking down the stairs before you can even think to stop him and reiterate the countless apologies you’d attempted to give him and Sam. Obviously they hadn’t worked, and you know for certain that they will only make things worse with the angels. When you turn back around, Gabriel and Lucifer are gone, leaving Castiel and Balthazar standing in the middle of the room right where you left them.

“They just need some time, love. To process.”

“Right,” you nod, shaking your head with a humorless laugh, “that makes seven of us, I guess.”

The night leaves you with Balthazar and Castiel staying with you instead of the usual four angels lounging in your room as the night passes, but this time it’s different. This time it’s solemn and the air is thick with grief and regret as you lay with the angels, both of them facing the ceiling while you lay on your side, closing your eyes to try and find some allusion of sleep.

“Do you think it’ll hurt?” you ask quietly, looking up at Balthazar laying on your left side where you’re facing, meeting his gaze with tear-filled eyes. “When the hellhounds come for me?”

Balthazar just stares at you, taking your hand in both of his and pressing a kiss to the back of it, pulling you against him when your face breaks and you have to fight to hold back a sob.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his sweater and crying into his chest, feeling Castiel’s hand on your back trying to calm you down, “I’m sorry.”

“Darling, it’s alright,” Balthazar says softly, “we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left together, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point. But it’s getting old.”

You feel like an idiot. Here you are, standing in the middle of a mostly empty park yelling at the sky. Those who had previously been around you have taken their kids and backed the hell off. You know how it looks. The insane woman who looks like she hasn’t slept in days (she hasn’t) standing in a field yelling at the sky. You know exactly how it looks. But maybe you wouldn’t be out there if two stupid archangels would stop ignoring you.

“Look, I know I messed up but you can’t just not talk to me,” you sigh, “if you’re going to be petty, do it to someone else. I don’t have enough time for you to be holding grudges.”

The familiar flap of wings behind you makes an involuntary sigh of relief flood you, but when you turn around you’re disappointed to see only one angel standing there. Still, one is good enough for now, and you’d expect Gabriel to let go of something like this before his brother would even think about it.

“I’m sorry I left,” he starts, “Lucifer and I had business.”

“Convenient time for business, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, well,” he sighs, looking around at the now shocked parents who are shielding their kids from him. With a snap of their fingers, they blink and go back to their business, memory of his dramatic appearance gone, “I’m here now. And I won’t disappear on you again.”

“And Lucifer?” you ask nervously, almost scared of what the answer will be, “how mad is he?”

“Well, right now he’s not mad at you, per se,” Gabriel smirks, “he’s currently in Siberia searching for the King of Hell who has very conveniently dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Why would he do that?” you furrow your eyebrows, “Crowley can’t reverse deals.”

“Just because he hasn’t doesn’t mean he can’t,” Gabe sighs, looking around at the park and then observing the children at the playground. After a few minutes of this you realize he’s deliberately looking anywhere but at you.

“You’re still upset.”

He almost laughs.

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, just the way you won’t look me in the eye. Is Luce really looking for Crowley or is he just avoiding me?”

“Both.”

You nod, trying to gauge what you should say next. You want to hug him and ask him if he’ll just try and live the rest of your two years with you without this...whatever this is. You want your angels back and you want them without any of the angry stares and sad looks. You want things back to normal.

“Normal is a lot to ask of us now.”

The voice is one you didn’t expect to hear. Not yet, at least. You assumed that Lucifer would want a few more days on his own before he came back to confront you after his abrupt exit from the conversation a few days ago. Gabriel is a bit different, he doesn’t hold a grudge like his brother. And Lucifer’s grudges last for quite some time. It’s just a different experience now that you’re on the receiving end of one.

“Can we talk now?”

“I suppose,” Lucifer takes a step forward, but you can see the reluctance in his eyes. You know how much this is hurting him, how he sees it as a betrayal. He’s had too many people in his life let him down and now that you’re one of them, you know that he’ll only grow resentful if you don’t talk him away from those feelings, “but if I don’t like what I hear, I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” if that’s all you’ll get from him, then that’s what you’ll take. Anything more would probably be asking too much with the current state of things and the fact that conflicts like this make Lucifer shrink back into more devilish tendencies, “I don’t have much time left with you and the others. And I don’t want to waste any of it on petty fights and grudges like this. I want to spend it with you. With all of you.”

Lucifer scans you for a moment, arms crossed in an attempt to look unmoved by your plea. He taps his fingers along his arm and gives you another once over, remaining silent just long enough to make you come seconds from losing you patience.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, “but don’t think for one second that I won’t find a way for you to get out of this. I’ll wreak havoc in Hell and kill every hound myself if I have to. When you die–much, much later than two years from now–you won’t be anywhere near Hell. I can promise you that much.”

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qeterqujll · 5 years

Text

blame (angels p.2); you have to live with the weight of a child’s death on your shoulders, but the angels are there to carry some of the weight for you

characters: castiel x reader, balthazar x reader, lucifer x reader, gabriel x reader, dean winchester, sam winchester

warnings: hella angst, fluff if you squint, murder/suicide (demon murder), cursing, self-hate, this does have a suicide in the beginning

You can still see her face so clearly, even after it had been a day since you’d finished the case. Her eyes had pleaded with you to save her, but the demon was in control of her body as it walked her to the edge of the building. It gave up control of her emotions in a cruel attempt at distracting you, showing you the fear in her eyes. It made you listen to her screams as you raced to get to her, all the while knowing that you would never be there in time.

“Help me!”

The girl cried for her mother as you ran towards her, eyes staring you down, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be able to get to her in time. She was fighting the demon hard, but you both knew she wouldn’t be strong enough. And neither would you, not this time. You barely missed grabbing her hand before the demon took control back, a smirk replacing the defeated expression on the girl’s tear-streaked face.

And then she jumped.

You watched it happen in slow motion, the demon giving up control once again so you could see her face as she fell, hear her screams before she hit the ground and went limp. You breathed out a choked sob as you watched the demon take control back, standing and staring up at you triumphantly as if to say you can’t save everyone.

When you killed the demon, it was still inside the girl’s body. You’d stabbed the girl in the heart, oblivious to the audience you had until you heard her mother’s screams behind you. Until you felt her father grip your shirt and practically throw you to the side, your head hitting the floor harshly as you listened to them cry for their daughter.

She was already dead, you wanted to tell them, as if it would make a difference. As if it would do anything to ease the guilt threatening to consume you, it was the demon.

Her mother slapped you after gathering herself, screaming at you for killing her daughter, for taking her baby away after promising that you’d be able to save her. You listened to what she had to say, and your silence after she finished earned you another slap before the couple promptly asked you to leave and never show your face to them again.

Explaining anything would have been pointless. Their daughter was dead either way, and getting rid of the demon was the only other thing you could have done for them.

The last thing you want to do is arrive back at the Bunker. You know that Sam and Dean will tell you there was nothing you could’ve done and that you didn’t have a choice. That the girl was already dead.

They would have been able to save her. They would have done more.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even realized you’d walked into the Bunker until Sam is standing in front of you, taking your face between his hands to inspect the bruises the girl’s mother left before meeting your gaze, the concern in his eyes almost as obvious as the pain in yours.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t–”

“I said nothing, Sam,” you push his hands away, moving past Dean before he can stop you and taking the stairs three at a time, slamming your door shut to make it as clear as possible that you need time to yourself.

You stand at the door, back against the wood as you attempt to clear your mind. But one memory of her face staring at you, pleading with you, and you break. You sink down to the floor with a choked sob, covering your mouth and burying your head between your knees.

“You killed her! You killed my baby girl!”

“Darling?”

You recognize the voice and bury your head further between your knees, not flinching when you feel a presence in front of you and a hand stroking the top of your head.

“The Winchesters prayed to us. They wanted to see if we could talk to you.”

You glance up at Balthazar and his eyes soften at the sight of you. You’re sure you’re a mess, but you can’t find it in you to care. Every time you so much as close your eyes, all you can see is her mother’s face as she blamed you for the death of her daughter and the anger in her father’s eyes as he watched you stab his little girl in the heart.

You see the face of the girl as she wondered if this was the last thing she would ever see. The face of the person who couldn’t save her.

A fresh wave of grief and guilt washes over you and Balthazar seems to notice this as he stands, taking your hands and lifting you up with him, leading you to the bed where the other three angels are standing.

“I won't read your mind, darling,” Balthazar sits first, then pulls you down next to him, draping his arm around you and pulling you into his side, “but you have to talk to us.”

“I can’t.”

The words are choked and you can barely contain another sob after opening your mouth, but Balthazar notices how distressed you are even after just those two words and he wraps his arms around you, pressing two fingers against your neck to turn your face into his chest.

“I couldn’t,” you gasp, struggling to get any coherent words out through your sobs, but Balthazar just squeezes you tighter and Castiel tells you to take your time, “I couldn’t save her.”

It takes you another moment to compose yourself but you finally feel your breathing begin to even out. You let go of the death grip you had on Balthazar’s coat and sit up, wiping your eyes and letting out a humorless laugh that makes you feel no better then you’ve felt since you got back.

“I was working a case without the boys. Possession. The demon possessed a girl, maybe seven or eight years old.”

You take a deep breath, images of the girl’s face, of the fear in her eyes as she stares at you playing in your mind.

“The demon took her to the edge of a building and it...” you take in a shaky breath, “it showed me her face just before it jumped and– and it took her body back to her house and I had no choice but to kill it. The girl was already dead but her parents...her parents didn’t know that. I didn’t know they were there and they watched me stab their daughter. Right in the heart.”

There’s a beat of silence and you will yourself to refrain from looking at any of the angels, unsure of whether you’ll see pity or dissapointment in their eyes. You don’t think you’d be able to handle seeing either.

“Y/N,” Castiel approaches you, putting two fingers to your forehead to heal the bruises on your face, “there was nothing you could have done to save her. And you were able to kill the demon before it could kill any others.”

“You should’ve seen them, Castiel,” you shake your head, “their faces when I killed her–”

“But you did not kill her, Y/N.”

“Does it matter?” you cry, standing and crossing your arms over your chest as if it will protect your heart from anymore grief. You turn and briefly see Lucifer and Gabriel glaring at Castiel for his blunt statements, but the tears in your eyes blur your vision enough for you to be unsure of what you’re looking at.

“I don’t deserve your pity or your comfort,” you shake your head, lips pressed in a tight line, “I was responsible for that girl and I failed.”

You’re caught off guard when Gabriel stands and wraps you in his arms, pulling you tight against him. You take a deep breath against his hair tickling your nose and practically go limp in his arms, letting him hold you up and take some of the weight off of your shoulders.

“You deserve the world, cupcake,” he whispers, “nothing could have been done. No one could have stopped that demon, not you or Sam or Dean–”

“You could’ve. You could’ve stopped her.”

“Maybe,” Lucifer says from his spot leaning against your dresser, arms crossed over his chest. You meet his eyes from over Gabriel’s shoulder and you can something in them, an emotion that you rarely see in Lucifer on full display now, when you all seem to be in your most vulnerable state, “but it doesn’t matter. You did all you could.”

You know they’re right. You’ve played it over and over in your head and not once did you find a scenario where the girl lived. If you’d run to her faster, gotten there quicker, the demon would’ve just jumped a second earlier. It timed the jump perfectly, knowing that you would reach the girl just a second too late.

“Darling, we know that you’re killing yourself over this,” Balthazar says from the bed, “and we understand why. This is the worst part of hunting, but it should not be on your shoulders. It was out of your control.”

“And if you ever need us, just pray. We’ll be there.”

The next morning, Sam and Dean come to check on you in your room and are greeted with the sight of you asleep in the arms of the devil himself while Gabe lays on your other side flipping through channels as he and Lucifer argue about what they should watch. At your desk, Castiel is trying to read one of your lore books as Balthazar relentlessly attempts to distract him. Dean raises an eyebrow at the scene, tapping softly on the door to get their attention. Cas looks up to greet the brothers while the others continue on with what they had been doing, unfazed by their presence.

“So is this gonna be a thing now?”

“Dean,” Gabriel pauses mid-argument with Lucifer, who takes the opportunity to steal the remote away from his brother, “could you please ask your brother to close his mouth before he starts drooling.”

Dean just shakes his head and shoves Sam out the door, closing the door behind him. He might not love the idea of you being close with angels who have betrayed them more times then he can count, but he knows he’ll have to deal with it. It’s not like he could take on four angels and one very angry hunter at once.

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