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starsfic2010-07-03 09:52 pm
starandrea) wrote in starsfic2010-07-03 09:52 pm
Entry tags:
"mystic crystal revelation and the mind's true liberation" (fifth element)
This is the first part of "Musica Humana," which will be a Sam/Gabriel story set in the same universe as the Sky trilogy. Since it's based on the concept of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bingo, though, it's debatable how much knowing anything about that universe will matter ♥
Bingo square #1: "Historical, 1960s."
(All prompts fromau_bingo ~ custom card.)
Age of Aquarius
“Rise and shine, Sammy!”
A song he really didn’t like backed up Dean’s obnoxious command, and Sam shoved the blanket away in an effort to reach the alarm. The radio wasn’t under his hand – and neither was the edge of the bed. He felt the whole world tilt as something hard and very un-mattress-like pressed against his shoulder.
“Mmph.” The sound from beside him, wordless though it was, had a distinctly feminine edge.
Sam froze, trying to figure out who he would disturb if he tried to flail away now. “What?” he managed, only barely stopping himself from adding the fuck?
“Don’t go around tonight,” Dean’s voice sang, weirdly happy and definitely underwritten by caffeine. “It’s bound to take your life!”
“Okay, stop,” Sam insisted, pushing himself up and squinting at something that was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a motel room. “Why are you singing?”
Dean squeezed past and the floor shook. There wasn’t any room in here, and they definitely weren’t alone. “Because it’s a great song,” he said, and the words were repeating from the direction he’d come from. Car stereo. He sang along with the end of the chorus again: “There’s a bad moon on the rise!”
Sam winced. He was pretty sure he was in the back of a van. He had no idea why, but Credence Clearwater was giving him the creeps. “Turn it off.”
“Tune in, Sammy,” Dean said over his shoulder. Light filtered in the back as the doors creaked, and yeah, a van. A parked van, and Sam was sleeping in the back of it along with what looked like a pile of supplies and possibly other people. Including one that was curling up next to him and trying to ignore them both.
“Don’t be the man, Dean.” The voice from up front sounded amused, and Sam was sure he knew it. The radio station went to static, and a moment later Sam heard, “Peace will find the planet and hope will steer the stars – ”
“Sarah?” he blurted out. Sarah had a van. For moving art. What the hell were they all doing in it?
“Yeah?” she answered. “Morning!”
“Are we there,” the woman beside Sam muttered, and with no small amount of shock he recognized her as Ruby.
“We’re there, we’re square, and we’re ready to groove!” Jo’s chipper voice replied.
Sam heard Dean laugh. “Jo, that’s not how it goes.”
“That’s how it goes for me,” she told him happily. “Own your own trip!”
“Too early for acid,” Ruby murmured, pulling the blanket away from Sam and burrowing her head beneath it. “Make ’em stop.”
“What the fuck,” Sam said. It was long past time he finished that sentence. “Seriously, someone tell me what’s going on.”
“We’re there!” Dean repeated. “Told you we had to get here early! We got a tree!”
“Trees are our friends!” Jo exclaimed. “I’m going to sleep riiiight up there.”
“You’re gonna fall,” Dean told her.
“I’ll fly!” she said with a laugh. “All I have to do is not hit the ground!”
“Are you stoned?” Sam demanded. There didn’t seem to be anything else to ask. Except, have you been possessed, or possibly, did witches do this? or maybe, am I hallucinating?
“Can’t drive when you’re tripping!” Dean said cheerfully. “Come on, Sammy, that would be ir-res-ponsible.”
It made Jo giggle, and Sam just stared at them. He wasn’t sure where they were supposed to be right now, but if he had to guess, he thought it was probably the Roadhouse. That was the last thing he remembered, anyway. Weren’t they all... staying there, or something?
“Leave ’em alone,” Ruby mumbled. “Maybe they’ll set up the tents without us.”
“We don’t need tents,” Jo insisted. “We’re going to sleep in the trees!”
This time Dean was the one who laughed, but they were outside the van now and Sam thought one of the front doors was open too. He felt the thing rock when Sarah climbed back inside, leaning over the seat to grab a pack or something. It looked like they were surrounded by camping equipment. Ruby definitely had her head on someone’s stuffed up sleeping bag.
“Castiel,” Sarah was saying. “You want to get the water?”
“Cas?” Sam blurted out. He turned so fast he almost lost his balance trying to get up. “Cas!” he repeated, catching sight of the angel standing just outside the passenger side door. “What’s going on?”
Castiel tilted his head, and it took Sam a moment to figure out what was wrong. “We’ve arrived at Woodstock,” he said simply. “If you’ll recall, Dean insisted on leaving immediately after work yesterday afternoon. It’s now Friday morning. I believe he and Jo will require supervision to assemble the campsite.”
No wings. Castiel wasn’t glowing, and Sam felt his heart sink. He’d always been able to see a little bit of grace leaking through at the edges of Castiel’s vessel. If that was gone, then none of this was right, and he wasn’t going to get any answers from their formerly angelic ally.
“Woodstock,” he repeated, numb and confused and getting more worried as the shock started to ebb. “Like, the actual Woodstock? Hippieville, the 60s, with tie-dye and long hair and free love?”
“I do not believe any of us are wearing tie-dye,” Castiel replied.
“Don’t expect any free love in this van,” Ruby grumbled, dislodging the blanket as she rolled onto her back. “What’s a girl have to do to get some sleep around here, anyway?”
She didn’t have any binding sigils on her. Sam tried to swallow his instinctive panic, because, right. Not real. Whatever was going on, this wasn’t real. Ruby was dead – several times over – and the day Dean got caught traveling in an art van was the day... well, probably the same day Jo agreed to go camping with any of them.
“Why are we at Woodstock?” Sam tried again. It couldn’t be time travel, right? He’d seen the angels do it, but this... this was ridiculous. They were definitely supposed to be at Ellen’s. With the garrison. That was right; Dean had a garrison of angels and he’d put Sam and –
Gabriel.
“Gabriel,” he said aloud, just as Castiel answered.
“Dean was determined that we go,” he said. “I understand Credence Clearwater Revival is scheduled to play tomorrow.”
“Who the fuck is Gabriel?” Ruby complained. “Is this your way of making me get up? You’re going to annoy me into consciousness?”
“Gabriel,” Sam repeated. “Come here.”
It worked back at the Roadhouse, apparently because he was in charge. Any angels stationed at the Roadhouse garrison had to report as soon as he summoned them. He’d even tried it on Gabriel, and it had worked both times.
This time? Nothing.
Except for Castiel giving him an odd look, and Ruby groaning and pulling the blanket back over her head. “I hate you all,” she said, voice muffled by the blanket.
Somehow, Sam found himself helping to set up the campsite. Mostly because he didn’t know what else to do and Dean and Jo clearly didn’t care enough to recognize a ridiculous idea when they had it. Like trying to put all three tents on top of each other. Or trying to cut a second and third doorway in the middle tent so they could connect them all. Sam gave them credit for at least remembering they’d need to get in and out, then took the stakes away from them and made Sarah help instead.
Castiel wandered off at some point, which made Sam nervous until he reminded himself they weren’t real. It wasn’t really Cas, alone and inhuman in the midst of a crowd that was – if this was really the music and art festival of 1969 – about to be classified a federal disaster. Ruby went with him, and Sam gave up trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.
Dean and Jo crashed about the same time there was actually a place for them to do it, and Sarah spread out her sleeping bag in the next tent over and told Sam to wake her up if anything interesting happened. Sam worried about leaving them alone: high, straight, sleeping or not, but everyone he’d met at the surrounding campsites was freakishly nice. Not even stoned nice, just... nice. Happy. Polite. Friendly in a way he couldn’t remember anyone ever being around him.
Besides, he reminded himself, they’re not real. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to figure it out by keeping watch over figments of his imagination.
The woods were full of trails, with signs going up as he walked. It wasn’t exactly like whatever vague notion he’d had of Woodstock, but if this wasn’t all in his head then there was must be some kind of reason for it so he tried to pay attention. He made a mental note about where the food was, where the water was, and how many different ways there were to find shelter from the stage area.
The stage, at least, looked exactly as he’d expected. Maybe smaller, from a distance, but set onto the open hillside with what had to be tens of thousands of people just... sitting. There was constant movement around the edges of the crowd. And speakers. Speakers on giant platforms, broadcasting nothing.
The music hadn’t even started yet, and it already looked like a deathtrap.
“Gabriel,” he said again. “Where the hell are you?”
There was no answer. He still couldn’t remember exactly what had happened before he woke up here, but he was pretty sure it had involved the trickster in some way. The garrison was clearer in his mind now: Dean was Michael, Cas was... inexplicably god-like, lately, and Gabriel was in trouble. Sam could remember Sachiel threatening him. He remembered Jophiel refusing to acknowledge him. He remembered Anna and Samael siding with them, and he thought Dean had drawn a line that both sides would honor.
He couldn’t remember what happened after that. Which probably wasn’t good, but no matter what Cas said, he doubted Gabriel would hurt him. He might be having some issues with Cas’ children, but no one with a shred of loyalty to Michael would come after Sam. That was one rule even Gabriel wasn’t ready to break.
“Sam.”
He spun, nothing at his back but strangers – and it was Castiel. Complete with trenchcoat and wings, and he was still wrong. Sam hadn’t seen that trenchcoat since his then-human brother had convinced Cas to ditch it their first night at Ellen’s.
“Cas,” he said. Because that was something, at least. Everything was a little clearer with Cas standing there. “What the hell is going on?”
“Gabriel is looking for you,” Castiel said. “You need to find him.”
“What’s he – ”
Castiel was gone. Just like that. Just like nothing. Sam didn’t see his wings sweep out behind him, didn’t see any indication that he’d meant to leave, he was just... gone. Like something had snatched him away.
Or like he’d never been there in the first place.
Sam went back to the campsite, just in case. If someone really was looking for him, that was where they’d do it, right? He wasn’t going to be any easier to find in a crowd of imaginary people he didn’t know. The other Cas was back by the time he got there, and Dean was awake, busy naming their campsite “Moonshot” despite the sharp decrease in the amount of giggling going on.
Ruby was still gone. Sarah was missing now too. Sam found Jo at the next campsite over, stringing beads or something, and he was about to give up and get some food when everything suddenly got a whole lot weirder. Yanking open the back of the van, he found the inside filled with a painted green spiral that screamed death! And smack in the middle of it stood Gabriel.
“They’re here,” he said, reaching out for Sam. “Come on.”
Sam stumbled back but Gabriel was too close and he could fucking fly. He was right on top of Sam and they were both off balance, crashing backwards, tumbling. Falling down and down. There was no ground underneath them at all.
The only thing Sam could feel was Gabriel’s fingers, clenched cold and tight on his arm.
au_bingo, though, it's debatable how much knowing anything about that universe will matter ♥Bingo square #1: "Historical, 1960s."
(All prompts from
au_bingo ~ custom card.)“Rise and shine, Sammy!”
A song he really didn’t like backed up Dean’s obnoxious command, and Sam shoved the blanket away in an effort to reach the alarm. The radio wasn’t under his hand – and neither was the edge of the bed. He felt the whole world tilt as something hard and very un-mattress-like pressed against his shoulder.
“Mmph.” The sound from beside him, wordless though it was, had a distinctly feminine edge.
Sam froze, trying to figure out who he would disturb if he tried to flail away now. “What?” he managed, only barely stopping himself from adding the fuck?
“Don’t go around tonight,” Dean’s voice sang, weirdly happy and definitely underwritten by caffeine. “It’s bound to take your life!”
“Okay, stop,” Sam insisted, pushing himself up and squinting at something that was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a motel room. “Why are you singing?”
Dean squeezed past and the floor shook. There wasn’t any room in here, and they definitely weren’t alone. “Because it’s a great song,” he said, and the words were repeating from the direction he’d come from. Car stereo. He sang along with the end of the chorus again: “There’s a bad moon on the rise!”
Sam winced. He was pretty sure he was in the back of a van. He had no idea why, but Credence Clearwater was giving him the creeps. “Turn it off.”
“Tune in, Sammy,” Dean said over his shoulder. Light filtered in the back as the doors creaked, and yeah, a van. A parked van, and Sam was sleeping in the back of it along with what looked like a pile of supplies and possibly other people. Including one that was curling up next to him and trying to ignore them both.
“Don’t be the man, Dean.” The voice from up front sounded amused, and Sam was sure he knew it. The radio station went to static, and a moment later Sam heard, “Peace will find the planet and hope will steer the stars – ”
“Sarah?” he blurted out. Sarah had a van. For moving art. What the hell were they all doing in it?
“Yeah?” she answered. “Morning!”
“Are we there,” the woman beside Sam muttered, and with no small amount of shock he recognized her as Ruby.
“We’re there, we’re square, and we’re ready to groove!” Jo’s chipper voice replied.
Sam heard Dean laugh. “Jo, that’s not how it goes.”
“That’s how it goes for me,” she told him happily. “Own your own trip!”
“Too early for acid,” Ruby murmured, pulling the blanket away from Sam and burrowing her head beneath it. “Make ’em stop.”
“What the fuck,” Sam said. It was long past time he finished that sentence. “Seriously, someone tell me what’s going on.”
“We’re there!” Dean repeated. “Told you we had to get here early! We got a tree!”
“Trees are our friends!” Jo exclaimed. “I’m going to sleep riiiight up there.”
“You’re gonna fall,” Dean told her.
“I’ll fly!” she said with a laugh. “All I have to do is not hit the ground!”
“Are you stoned?” Sam demanded. There didn’t seem to be anything else to ask. Except, have you been possessed, or possibly, did witches do this? or maybe, am I hallucinating?
“Can’t drive when you’re tripping!” Dean said cheerfully. “Come on, Sammy, that would be ir-res-ponsible.”
It made Jo giggle, and Sam just stared at them. He wasn’t sure where they were supposed to be right now, but if he had to guess, he thought it was probably the Roadhouse. That was the last thing he remembered, anyway. Weren’t they all... staying there, or something?
“Leave ’em alone,” Ruby mumbled. “Maybe they’ll set up the tents without us.”
“We don’t need tents,” Jo insisted. “We’re going to sleep in the trees!”
This time Dean was the one who laughed, but they were outside the van now and Sam thought one of the front doors was open too. He felt the thing rock when Sarah climbed back inside, leaning over the seat to grab a pack or something. It looked like they were surrounded by camping equipment. Ruby definitely had her head on someone’s stuffed up sleeping bag.
“Castiel,” Sarah was saying. “You want to get the water?”
“Cas?” Sam blurted out. He turned so fast he almost lost his balance trying to get up. “Cas!” he repeated, catching sight of the angel standing just outside the passenger side door. “What’s going on?”
Castiel tilted his head, and it took Sam a moment to figure out what was wrong. “We’ve arrived at Woodstock,” he said simply. “If you’ll recall, Dean insisted on leaving immediately after work yesterday afternoon. It’s now Friday morning. I believe he and Jo will require supervision to assemble the campsite.”
No wings. Castiel wasn’t glowing, and Sam felt his heart sink. He’d always been able to see a little bit of grace leaking through at the edges of Castiel’s vessel. If that was gone, then none of this was right, and he wasn’t going to get any answers from their formerly angelic ally.
“Woodstock,” he repeated, numb and confused and getting more worried as the shock started to ebb. “Like, the actual Woodstock? Hippieville, the 60s, with tie-dye and long hair and free love?”
“I do not believe any of us are wearing tie-dye,” Castiel replied.
“Don’t expect any free love in this van,” Ruby grumbled, dislodging the blanket as she rolled onto her back. “What’s a girl have to do to get some sleep around here, anyway?”
She didn’t have any binding sigils on her. Sam tried to swallow his instinctive panic, because, right. Not real. Whatever was going on, this wasn’t real. Ruby was dead – several times over – and the day Dean got caught traveling in an art van was the day... well, probably the same day Jo agreed to go camping with any of them.
“Why are we at Woodstock?” Sam tried again. It couldn’t be time travel, right? He’d seen the angels do it, but this... this was ridiculous. They were definitely supposed to be at Ellen’s. With the garrison. That was right; Dean had a garrison of angels and he’d put Sam and –
Gabriel.
“Gabriel,” he said aloud, just as Castiel answered.
“Dean was determined that we go,” he said. “I understand Credence Clearwater Revival is scheduled to play tomorrow.”
“Who the fuck is Gabriel?” Ruby complained. “Is this your way of making me get up? You’re going to annoy me into consciousness?”
“Gabriel,” Sam repeated. “Come here.”
It worked back at the Roadhouse, apparently because he was in charge. Any angels stationed at the Roadhouse garrison had to report as soon as he summoned them. He’d even tried it on Gabriel, and it had worked both times.
This time? Nothing.
Except for Castiel giving him an odd look, and Ruby groaning and pulling the blanket back over her head. “I hate you all,” she said, voice muffled by the blanket.
Somehow, Sam found himself helping to set up the campsite. Mostly because he didn’t know what else to do and Dean and Jo clearly didn’t care enough to recognize a ridiculous idea when they had it. Like trying to put all three tents on top of each other. Or trying to cut a second and third doorway in the middle tent so they could connect them all. Sam gave them credit for at least remembering they’d need to get in and out, then took the stakes away from them and made Sarah help instead.
Castiel wandered off at some point, which made Sam nervous until he reminded himself they weren’t real. It wasn’t really Cas, alone and inhuman in the midst of a crowd that was – if this was really the music and art festival of 1969 – about to be classified a federal disaster. Ruby went with him, and Sam gave up trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.
Dean and Jo crashed about the same time there was actually a place for them to do it, and Sarah spread out her sleeping bag in the next tent over and told Sam to wake her up if anything interesting happened. Sam worried about leaving them alone: high, straight, sleeping or not, but everyone he’d met at the surrounding campsites was freakishly nice. Not even stoned nice, just... nice. Happy. Polite. Friendly in a way he couldn’t remember anyone ever being around him.
Besides, he reminded himself, they’re not real. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to figure it out by keeping watch over figments of his imagination.
The woods were full of trails, with signs going up as he walked. It wasn’t exactly like whatever vague notion he’d had of Woodstock, but if this wasn’t all in his head then there was must be some kind of reason for it so he tried to pay attention. He made a mental note about where the food was, where the water was, and how many different ways there were to find shelter from the stage area.
The stage, at least, looked exactly as he’d expected. Maybe smaller, from a distance, but set onto the open hillside with what had to be tens of thousands of people just... sitting. There was constant movement around the edges of the crowd. And speakers. Speakers on giant platforms, broadcasting nothing.
The music hadn’t even started yet, and it already looked like a deathtrap.
“Gabriel,” he said again. “Where the hell are you?”
There was no answer. He still couldn’t remember exactly what had happened before he woke up here, but he was pretty sure it had involved the trickster in some way. The garrison was clearer in his mind now: Dean was Michael, Cas was... inexplicably god-like, lately, and Gabriel was in trouble. Sam could remember Sachiel threatening him. He remembered Jophiel refusing to acknowledge him. He remembered Anna and Samael siding with them, and he thought Dean had drawn a line that both sides would honor.
He couldn’t remember what happened after that. Which probably wasn’t good, but no matter what Cas said, he doubted Gabriel would hurt him. He might be having some issues with Cas’ children, but no one with a shred of loyalty to Michael would come after Sam. That was one rule even Gabriel wasn’t ready to break.
“Sam.”
He spun, nothing at his back but strangers – and it was Castiel. Complete with trenchcoat and wings, and he was still wrong. Sam hadn’t seen that trenchcoat since his then-human brother had convinced Cas to ditch it their first night at Ellen’s.
“Cas,” he said. Because that was something, at least. Everything was a little clearer with Cas standing there. “What the hell is going on?”
“Gabriel is looking for you,” Castiel said. “You need to find him.”
“What’s he – ”
Castiel was gone. Just like that. Just like nothing. Sam didn’t see his wings sweep out behind him, didn’t see any indication that he’d meant to leave, he was just... gone. Like something had snatched him away.
Or like he’d never been there in the first place.
Sam went back to the campsite, just in case. If someone really was looking for him, that was where they’d do it, right? He wasn’t going to be any easier to find in a crowd of imaginary people he didn’t know. The other Cas was back by the time he got there, and Dean was awake, busy naming their campsite “Moonshot” despite the sharp decrease in the amount of giggling going on.
Ruby was still gone. Sarah was missing now too. Sam found Jo at the next campsite over, stringing beads or something, and he was about to give up and get some food when everything suddenly got a whole lot weirder. Yanking open the back of the van, he found the inside filled with a painted green spiral that screamed death! And smack in the middle of it stood Gabriel.
“They’re here,” he said, reaching out for Sam. “Come on.”
Sam stumbled back but Gabriel was too close and he could fucking fly. He was right on top of Sam and they were both off balance, crashing backwards, tumbling. Falling down and down. There was no ground underneath them at all.
The only thing Sam could feel was Gabriel’s fingers, clenched cold and tight on his arm.