Title: A Day in Venezia

Rating: PG-13/Teen (swearing once or twice, nothing severe)

Spoilers: up to "Changing Channels", season 5

Characters: Castiel, Gabriel

Author's Note: Biggest issue with ...it doesn't seem to believe in paragraph indentation. XD

When Castiel landed with a rustle of folded wings on the slowly crumbling terrace of the Basilica di San Marco, the last thing he expected to see was Gabriel curled up on the edge, face peering with wicked glee through the old railings upon the unsuspecting citizens strolling below.

Correction: he expected to see Gabriel, but not…this. Perhaps he should have (it was Gabriel, after all) but even so, Castiel had not thought Gabriel could sink so low as to—

Squelch. A shriek and angry shouting precipitated Gabriel scrambling back a little from the sheer drop before him to avoid being seen, giggling like a child and digging his hands into the box resting in his lap. Correction again: of course Gabriel could sink so low. It was Gabriel.

"Heya Castiel! Pull up a seat; I've got plenty of ammo. Give big bro a hand manning the ramparts!"

Castiel did not move, except perhaps to pull his wings a little closer to him in a mildly self-defensive gesture. He recalled all too clearly what had occurred the last time he had approached Gabriel. Being thrown about through the fabric of reality like a rag doll had not appealed then, and it did not appeal now.

When he did not answer nor make any move to comply, Gabriel paused in the midst of pitching his projectile of choice down upon another human who Castiel doubted deserved the treatment. He could see what it was, now – an egg, and Castiel wondered what it must be like to be splattered with the yolk of an unfertilized, unborn chick. He did not think it would be particularly pleasant.

"Well? Gonna pinch your tail feathers into action or do I have to do it for you?" Gabriel's wings flared out very briefly, just enough to send a strong gust of wind into the face of Castiel's vessel. Were he human, it would most likely have blown him off the roof.

His trench coat whipping in the breeze, Castiel took a few cautious steps closer to the edge, remembering that while Gabriel was generally considered very laidback among the angels, he was also used to getting his way and being promptly obeyed. The decreased distance allowed Castiel a better view of what Gabriel was doing. Whatever it was did not seem to be of any great importance. The younger angel felt his vessel's mouth pinch a little in disapproval. While the Winchesters and he were working to stop the Apocalypse, here Gabriel sat dropping the unborn young of fowl on humans for amusement. If Castiel had entertained any notions of persuading Gabriel to help them by impressing upon him the severity of their situation, it looked as though he would have to switch tactics.

"What exactly are you doing?" Castiel asked in spite of himself. While he understood what Gabriel was doing, he failed to grasp the why. Gabriel threw a carefree grin over his shoulder, beckoning with the egg he held for Castiel to come still closer.

Slowly creeping forward, wings held tightly to his back and quivering tensely in case he needed to suddenly take flight, Castiel put out a tentative hand to grip the railing. Gabriel turned once more to the pavement far below, and Castiel followed his gaze thoughtfully.

Venice lay spread out before them, a breathtaking panorama that, for all Castiel had seen it many times before, still managed to impress him. Human ingenuity was still something he was growing accustomed to.

Gabriel clearly either did not notice or did not care about the view, playfulness creeping across his face as he spotted a young woman with beautiful blonde hair and slim, tanned shoulders exposed to the sun pass by underneath them. Before Castiel could do anything Gabriel launched the egg with the skill of a professional pitcher, the egg dropping like a bomb on the woman's head. It cracked and exploded into thin brittle shards, the yellow yoke making a mockery of the brilliant sheen of her now-ruined hair.

The scream of shock that followed was expected, but while Gabriel whooped and scuttled back, Castiel did not have time to react before she looked up and spotted him, raw egg dripping into her eyes. A rain of profanity launched up into the air at him like trebuchet missiles, and Castiel frowned over his shoulder at his brother, who laughed all the more loudly at the abuse being layered on Castiel in swift Italian.

"Babe's got a mouth on her! Just listen to that! Ohh, it's a good thing we don't have a mother, Castiel, even you might be insulted by that!"

Castiel was not amused. "Is this how you spend your time, brother? Making a nuisance of yourself in a vain attempt to remain occupied?" Gabriel shrugged, belly-crawling towards the ledge again like a soldier in the trenches now that the screaming from below had ceased.

"No judgin' here, bro. You trail after those Losechesters like a love-struck puppy; I make protest statements against the cruelty of boredom." He fingered another egg, rolling it between his fingers as his eyes scanned the street, spying out his next victim like a hawk. He resembled in that moment nothing more than the previously mentioned soldier, peering wild-eyed and giddy over the lip of earth that protected him from his enemies: grenade in hand ready to toss into the fray the second movement entered his field of vision.

Castiel had no reply, at least not a decent one; so, with the briefest flash of trepidation he lowered himself down gently to sit next to his brother, still not entirely certain that being in such close quarters with an archangel would not garner disagreeable results. Even if this particular archangel had no particular quarrel with him, Castiel would not quickly forget their previous encounter.

They sat quietly for awhile, Gabriel pegging the occasional human to pass under their collective gazes. The sun moved in a silent arch through the sky and the wind shifted, tugging at their vessels' respective clothes. Neither angel noticed it. To his surprise Castiel found that for the first time in a long time he was almost relaxed.

He had never mentioned it to the brothers who were in his charge, but being cut off from Heaven had repercussions beyond the obvious. The hardest part was not the gradual fading of his power, although finding each day he could do less than the day before was infuriating and depressing (sentiments he was only now able to truly appreciate). The hardest part was being separated from the rest of the Host: to not hear their voices rising in harmony in his mind or feel their Grace flowing through his own to bolster and sustain him, to comfort him. Being cut out from the unified whole was akin to having an internal organ dug out of a human body, and he ached with a hole he could not fill.

If he considered it, perhaps seeking out Gabriel had not entirely been about recruiting him into what Dean jokingly refers to as 'Team Free Will'. If being shut out from Heaven for even such a short time bore such an effect on him, he suddenly contemplated how it must be for Gabriel, who had existed all these long millennia sans any contact with their home.

With that thought he turned to watch the archangel, who managed to go quite some time pretending he did not notice the scrutiny. When it became obvious that Castiel was not going to speak, Gabriel wordlessly pushed an egg into his brother's hands, pointing at a middle-aged man carrying a briefcase and wiping sweat from his brow with a kerchief as he waddled laboriously by on the street below.

"Go for the gold," he said, not looking at Castiel but intently watching the man on whose back he had metaphorically painted a red X. Castiel weighed the pros and cons of refusing, but decided that in the interest of peace appeasing Gabriel's capricious whims was the optimal choice. He halfheartedly tossed the egg out of hand, and observed detachedly as it cracked the man on his ear right before he walked out of range.

Squawking indignation and head spinning rapidly from side to side to identify his attacker, Gabriel sighed in annoyance when the man failed to look up. "It's not fun when they don't see you," he grumbled, pushing another egg into Castiel's hands. "Go for that one next – the dude who looks like he's had too many meatballs."

They passed the time this way, the sun sinking further along the horizon. Castiel followed Gabriel's directions with mildly exasperated good humor, wondering when and if Gabriel would be in a good enough mood to broach the subject Castiel had come to discuss with him in the first place. By the time the streetlamps began to flicker to life and a cool dusk started to settle its shawl upon their shoulders, it became evident that Gabriel had lost interest in this pastime. He rose and stretched in an exaggerated fashion, pushing his arms into the air until his vessel's elbows popped.

"I'm so hungry. Put in a hard day's work today, I think I deserve a treat!" Castiel huffed quietly. "What? Oh, come on, you can't tell me some grub doesn't sound good to you right now!"

When Castiel simply regarded him with silence and hooded eyes, Gabriel rolled his eyes in a pained way and hooked his arm under Castiel's arm, hauling him up bodily. Spreading his multitude of wings, they took off into the cooling night air before Castiel could so much as open his mouth.

If Castiel thought Dean ate more than was probably healthy, he decided he needed to revise his standards. The amount Gabriel consumed was quite frankly alarming, and if Castiel did not know the physical impossibilities an angel's presence in a vessel allowed a body to temper, he might have thought it prudent to intervene. As it stood, he felt compelled to follow Gabriel along the winding ways of Venice, watching as Gabriel raided street stalls for a variety of delicacies and flirted with every female who passed.

Castiel wondered why Dean and Gabriel did not see eye-to-eye. They certainly behaved in much the same manner.

Gabriel stopped suddenly, flashing about mid-step to level a moderately annoyed glare at Castiel. "I heard that," he sneered, eyes narrowing, "don't compare me to your pet monkey. Dean-o only wishes he was this charming."

Castiel felt his vessel's lips press in disapproval again, something that he felt might be becoming a habit, which was troublesome; habits were a human vice. Gabriel started walking again, this time with his back to the path in front of him so he could face Castiel as he spoke. If he had any trouble navigating the bustling thoroughfare this way, it was not evident.

"Why are you chillin' with me anyways? Not that I don't appreciate it, I like an audience as much as the next Trickster and little bro following big bro does great things for the ego, but I'da thought you'd be slavering after those two morons, just waiting to fix their messes. You know, kissing their asses and all. You seem to be into that kind of thing. Didn't get it from me, obviously. I like topping, not bottoming."

Castiel elected to ignore the parts of that he did not understand and replied with, "I have something I must discuss with you, Gabriel. I acknowledge the reason for your neutrality thus far, but if anything observing you today has strengthened my conviction that you do not wish to see this world burn."

Gabriel stopped again, and only Castiel's rapt attention prevented him from running into the archangel. That would not have been very well-received. Gabriel, despite the height difference between their vessels, looked up at Castiel with such an expression that Castiel felt, with a strong rush, the extensive stretch of status between them. Exiled though he was, Gabriel still dwarfed him in power. The streetlamps flickered briefly overhead, but no one noticed as the crowd filtered unseeing past the two angels locked together, brown eyes to blue. Not for the first time, Castiel wondered how it must be for Gabriel — to be so alone that he tolerates a Seraph in such a way that does not immediately end with Castiel smeared across the earth for his insolence.

"Castiel, I could've sworn you were there the last time I had to spell this out. I want this to be over. Over, do you get that? I'm tired. I'm tired of Earth, and I'm tired of Heaven. All this fighting… we were all a family once. We are a family. Do you blame me for not wanting to get mixed up in the bloodshed? For not wanting to see my brothers and sisters strike each other down in the name of dear old Dad who left the house a long time ago? For Dad who left a timer on the fuse box so the lights would blow when he wanted them to? Lights none of us know how to fix? You left Heaven. You chose that. I thought you, at least, would get me. Cripes!"

He turned away, disgust and something else Castiel could not immediately identify twisting his lips. He thought it might be disappointment. "You're even falling. Don't think I didn't notice," he interrupted when Castiel opened his mouth, "it's flashing in big neon signs every time I look at you. Let me guess. You're falling because you want to help the Winchesters. You're falling because you think they stand a chance of screwing the pooch, that their little temper tantrum against destiny will actually amount to anything. You're wrong. And you want me to do the same stupid ass thing? No thanks, bro. This party should've ended a long time ago. You won't get any fuss from me when the police raid it."

Gabriel stared at him for a short, intense moment, as though trying to communicate something to Castiel that he did not wish to say aloud. When a few beats of silence passed between them unchallenged he turned on his heel, pacing away with purpose and leaving Castiel standing there to stare after him, his shoulders set in a hunted huddle that Castiel thought looked very out-of-place on his older brother. A man flashed by before him and he lost sight of Gabriel in the crowd, his smaller stature overtaken by taller pedestrians crossing Castiel's line of vision. He could still feel him there, sense his Grace moving steadily farther away. If Castiel so wished, he could follow.

He chose not to.

It was close to dawn when Castiel returned to his vigil over the Winchesters, the sound of feathers falling into place only barely scraping over the quiet snores issuing from the beds dominating one wall of the motel room. Castiel sat quietly at a small, scuffed table, hands in his lap as he regarded his charges and mulled over his encounter with Gabriel.

This attempt at coercion had clearly not succeeded, but Castiel had no plans to give up. That was one thing he had picked up from the Winchesters: you lost the moment you gave up. So he sat there, turning ideas over in his head and dismissing most, knowing they would not avail. He was so focused he nearly failed to hear the soft thump outside the motel room door. After a moment he came back to attention, rising slowly to pace towards the pane of wood under which the soft creep of morning clawed its way in.

He turned the handle as quietly as he could, projecting his Grace outside to try and identify what lay beyond. There was nothing there to set off an alarm, but nonetheless he was cautious as he opened the door, scanning the immediate area. He saw nothing, but decided he should make sure and stepped out onto the porch running along the length of the building.

His foot hit something as he made to leave, and he looked down to find a package haphazardly wrapped in obscenely colored paper lying by his scuffed dress shoe. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands and feeling it out to determine if it contained anything dangerous.

Castiel felt nothing sinister in the parcel, so with one last sweep of the view from the porch he stepped back inside, shutting the door as softly as possible and flipping the lock back into place. He returned to his chair at the table and slipped his vessel's fingers under the flimsy layers, pulling it open and mindful of the tearing sounds it produced.

When the small square package lay fully revealed before him he paused to consider it, wondering if he should take this for what it seemed to be. Plucking a square of notepaper that lay on top, he took a moment to decipher the messy, lopsided scribble:

'Loser. You didn't even try any of the food, I know you. You can't go to Italy and not eat the good stuff. I catch you

pulling this shit again and you'll be in trouble. I forgive you this time, but do better next time you big baby.

P.S.: DON'T SHARE. Especially not with Dean-o.'

Curious despite himself, Castiel took a better look at what lay inside the box and almost snorted. He could not say he was surprised when a variety of sweet things were made plain in the weak morning light now coming through the windows; catching the shiny wrappers and making them pop faintly against their surroundings. Castiel quickly amended his mental assessment of Gabriel: he may be used to getting his way and being promptly obeyed, and he may have a spectacular temper that was made no less childish by the mask of his status as archangel; but he was perhaps more soft-hearted than Castiel originally thought.

Castiel considered the last look his brother had given him, and thought that Gabriel and he may have more in common than he perceived. Gabriel was lonely – that much was plain – but Castiel was lonely, too. Despite Gabriel's trying personality, it had felt good to connect with one of the Host once more. If he felt this way, surely Gabriel must also. He took this as a good sign, and experimentally tried one of the candies as he resumed brainstorming possible ways to recruit Gabriel to their cause, this new revelation playing center field as his prime advantage. When the brothers awoke a few hours later, Castiel made a point of hiding the box from their view. If only to avoid questions…