(I don't own Voltron or Supernatural)

When my brother killed me, I didn't expect the yanking feeling that suddenly tugged at my Grace. I didn't expect my wings burning to hurt so much. I didn't expect to open my eyes.

My Grace felt like it was burning, but I could feel that my wings were still intact.

I had been forced into a different vessel, without either of our permission, and both of us were screaming as we burned, twin voices erupting from our shared throats simultaneously. I moved to escape the vessel, but sigils and wards had been tattooed onto the vessel's skin, still red with evidence of having been placed recently, trapping me, as well as scratched onto the metal keeping us on the flat surface I could feel beneath our back. The metal creaked as our shared body writhed against the warded metal bonds, strength boosted by my Grace.

"It's working," the pointed-eared, yellow-eyed, blue-skinned being looming above us said to someone out of my sight. It turned its eyes onto us, "you'll need to grant it permission to stay, Blue Paladin, or you'll join the bodies of the failed experiments. Both of you will."

The wards were not like the ones I was familiar with. The thought flashed across my mind before being washed away by the ever continuous flood of pain.

Instinctively, I pumped some Grace into the vessel's head, starting to turn off the poor sod's pain receptors. I still burned, but the vessel could no longer feel pain. I flipped on the metaphorical calm switch while I was at it and his rapid heartbeat slowed down.

The vessel stilled; I wasn't 'logged in,' so to speak, so the vessel wasn't moved by my agony.

Elf thing waited a moment before it cursed, and then it motioned towards someone, "he'll be dead soon. The winged creatures always kill the host before they die."

Now that his mind was able to focus enough for me to do it, I did the Archangel specialty.

Aka, I threw some Grace in to talk to the kid's subconscious.

"Hiya, kiddo," I said as I sat down next to the boy's subconscious on the sand of a beach I've never been to but already knew. I'd flown over it a couple times before, and so I recognized it as a beach in Cuba.

The kid glanced at me before turning his eyes to the ocean.

"I'm not going to let you turn me against my team," he said, staring at the waves lapping against the shore.

"I don't even know what's going on," I told him.

"I'm dying?"

"There's that," I shrugged again, "buuuut you don't have to."

"Either that or they use me against the rest of the Paladins," the boy dug his toes into the sand, "I miss Earth."

"We're not on it?" I frowned before shaking my head, "that's not important. Look, kid, you don't have much time left and, frankly, I'm not sure if I do either. I'm not the bad guy. But if you don't grant me permission to be here, then you're going to die here. There's a chance you'll get out of this, but you'll never know if your life ends here."

The kid shrugged, "they don't need me. They still have my Lion."

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes, "you can pity yourself later. Right now, we have more important matters to attend to. If you die right here, right now, you'll never know if you could prove yourself. Never see Earth again. You want to live long enough to get home one day, right?"

The boy sighed and dug his toes deeper into the sand.

"I know I want to live long enough to get home one day," I told him softly, "if home ever becomes home again."

The boy shrugged after a long moment.

"Okay. Fine."

"I'll need something more binding than that, my friend."

"Yes."

My wings spread out of the vessel, and I let them flop onto the floor in my exhaustion. Almost dying twice really seemed to have taken it out of me. I stopped burning.

I gasped, opening my eyes, testing my fingers.

Something touched my feathers and I flinched, startled that the touch had landed instead of going straight through.

"This one has six wings," a voice gasped in astonishment. I recognized it as the voice of elf thing. I went to yank my wing away, but the grip tightened on it and I was too tired to put up much of an opposition. I felt a prick of pain as one of my feathers was pulled.

I growled and ripped my wings from her grasp, pulling them as closely to myself as I possibly could, which wasn't much.

"You have six wings," elf thing told me, "the others who survived the transitions all had two."

"Information for information," I told it, giving her my most vicious grin, "how did you get me here?"

It tilted its head, staring at me for so long I figured it would refuse my little game.

"A spell," it answered simply, "now explain."

"It seems you've only had angels," I said, just as simply, "and I am not an angel."

It let out a raspy laugh before speaking, "the spell began as a simple mistake in another spell. Now what are you?"

"It depends on who you ask."

"What if I ask you?"

I smirked, "ah-ah, it's my turn. Where am I?"

"Depends on who you ask."

I let out a laugh of my own, "alright. What about this table? Usually people ask me to dinner first."

"I am Haggar," it said, "now tell me your name."

"Loki."

"Loki," it tried it out for itself.

"Are you female or male?"

"Female," it-she said, "what about you? None of the 'angels' were ever willing to speak to me at all."

"Must be the sticks up their ass," I grinned, "I am neither. And both. Both and neither. Yet I am currently male, as far as my vessel goes. Now, what is it that you want? Most usually go through more than a simple spell to summon me. And never have been foolish enough to trap me."

She gave me a wicked grin of her own, "it seems you were foolish enough to be captured."

She motioned towards beings I could sense but not see.

"I grow tired of speaking in circles. Gain information on this Loki. In the mean time, Lotor will be eager to learn how well this creature fares compared to the others. And if he doesn't make it... well, I look forward to dissecting my new toy should he come to an end. Prince Lotor should enjoy being able to prove his capability at leadership."

They dragged me along, purposely speeding up their pace to do so every time I matched them step for step. They had already pulled on the chain connected to my shackled wrists enough to drag me onto my face several times. This wasn't what had me the angriest though.

Somehow, the Haggar hag was able to see my wings. She'd pinned down my wings and clipped the flight feathers one by one. I was extremely pissed by this turn of events, but the wards tattooed onto my vessel put a hobble on my Grace and I was unable to do much from how I was positioned on the table.

Fortunately, it seemed as if Haggar had been the only one able to see my wings. Other than a couple glances, none of the prisoners in the cells we passed paused to stare. None of them seemed anything like anything I had ever seen. It left me on edge.

They shoved me unceremoniously into a tiny cell at the end of what would otherwise be a dead end. By the time I realized they'd gotten the cuffs off my wrists before shoving me into the cell, an entire wall seemed to have swallowed up the exit behind me.

I examined the smooth metal and where it melted seamlessly into the floor. It was dark. Nothing to see.

I let out a growl and stood there. My wings already ached with how small of an area I was trapped in, and it was too small for me to even sit down.

I let out a shout, using my voice instead of my vessel's. It pierced the room, but nobody came and nothing broke.

Except my ear drums. Ow.

I paused and tilted my head. It was odd, being in a vessel where the original host was still with me. My old one had buried himself so deeply within the back of my mind that he may as well have been dead.

Yeah. Uh, I would appreciate it if I wasn't dead.

Let me think, I told him. I can find a way to get us out of here. The only thing that can hold an Archangel is the cage in Hell.

Oh, yeah, don't mind me. I just can't hear anything but you when you talk to me via thought magic, and I can't see or feel or hear anything while in my own body.

That's probably best for right now. We're quite squished into this tiny cell.

He was silent for a moment before talking again, I'm Lance.

Gabriel.

So... Heaven is definitely real and all that?

Yes.

He went silent and I found the silence unnervi- uh, irritating- in the pitch black, cramped little space.

Do you happen to know where we are?

Galra ship.

Galra?

Whooo boy! I'm not sure how the hell he whistled without vocal cords, okie-dokie, Angel guy, looks like I get to be Professor Lance!

Ah, but I forgot my notebook, professor, I grinned, chuckling at the young mortal's antics.

We passed the time this way, with him telling me about the things he'd been up to. He got quiet when it came to missing his family, but was soon off with extravagant retellings of how he had, quote, 'kicked ass in a giant blue mechanical lion.'

Lance went quiet when he sensed my burst of curiosity as the wall in front of me slid up. I squinted at the brightness, falling forward as I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted. Being an Archangel, they adjusted quickly and I quickly pulled myself to my feet, already stretching out my sore and aching wings.

I could feel hard dirt beneath my feet, beat down by others before me. There was a roar, made up of many voices, that echoed all around me; I glanced up, staring with wide eyes at the stands encircling me, placed high enough that I would never have a chance of reaching them with my wings clipped the way they were. Each seat seemed to be occupied, and they all roared, a crazy noise that hurt my enhanced hearing.

What's going on?

It seems to be... some sort of arena.

Arena? For what?

I took the chance of visibility to examine what exactly I was working with, not answering Lance's question for I had no answer for him.

My vessel was definitely taller than my last one. Already well built, too. I figured I probably looked like the form Lance was in when I delved into his mind to gain permission to stay.

I was barefoot and shirtless, with some sort of soft material trousers/shorts that ended just above my knees. Purple loops and circles swooped across my chest, back, arms, and legs like a tiger's stripes. I glanced over my shoulder and saw some sort of odd wing design stretched out down my back. Definitely not any wards and sigils I had ever seen. If I turned on the vessel's pain receptors , the burning from the fresh tattoos let me know that the stripes continued onto my neck, circling my neck like purple collars, three of them in total with symbols etched between them. These 'collars' were what kept me trapped. When I tried to rise up out of my vessel, the symbols burned and the bands tattooed around my neck choked me back down into the vessel before I could escape.

It wasn't until my attention was caught by the thing they shoved into the arena on the other side across from me. It was humanoidish, an odd looking creature that loomed up like a giant centipede. It snapped its mandibles a couple times as eyes that seemed a bit too human landed on me. It seemed to ready itself, and then it charged right at me, a battle cry somehow erupting from its throat, and the crowd somehow grew louder.

I could only stare at it in horror as I realized that I had been thrown in with nothing but my fists.

I.. I think they expect me to fight.