Who: Samandriel & Abigail What: An angel of the lord. When: Saturday 8/14, afternoon. Where: Samandriel's house. Rating: PG-13. Status: Complete
It seemed like Samandriel was having Abigail over more often than usual. Today, it was an excuse to have someone listen to him practice (even if she was doing other things,) so that he could keep his focus and not wander off into his dreams. His playing that day was nothing short of inspired, the viola singing for him in a way he rarely allowed it to in practice. On stage, naturally, all bets were off (there was a reason he got first chair,) but practice wasn’t usually the time for showing off.
He had sheet music in front of him, but hadn’t turned the pages at all, and the stand was mostly there just to serve as a necessary accessory while he let what started out as Chopin melt into something completely original. The music carried him. Samandriel merely followed what the viola wanted.
When he reached a natural stopping point, he set set his bow hand (still holding the bow) on his thigh and looked at the coffee table.
“I’ve started dreaming,” he said softly.
Abigail smiled when he played, fingers moving against her thighs in ways she’d manipulate the piano keys. She opened her blue eyes when he stopped, about to ask him why, but his words explained everything.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. It seemed an appropriate response; nobody seemed to have good Dreams. They were always war or death or violence or any number of things that made half of Orange County wake up sobbing.
He looked up at her, dark blue eyes full of quiet wonder. “Don’t be,” he said, smiling. “It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it and dream me was so excited. There were so many things going on and he just had to be a part of everything, to watch the sun break through the darkness and see everything come to life and run around in bare feet laughing.”
Standing up, Abigail moved to sit by him. She was glad that somehow, her brother, her best friend, the person she admired in her age group above all others, he’d managed to get good dreams. “What do you dream about, then?” It was a nice change, to ask that question and get a good answer in reply. It made her think twice about telling him what she dreamed.
He set his bow down on the stand and his viola in its case on the floor next to it. “Creation,” he said, looking at her. “Everywhere I ran, flowers grew. Trees and butterflies and all sorts of animals walking around for the first time taking in the whole world with newly made eyes. And to hear him laugh...I don’t think any of my instruments could make a sound so beautiful.” There was so much joy in him left over from the dreams that Samandriel felt like it was overflowing.
He couldn’t be god, and the ‘him’ in question had an almost audible capital h. Abigail couldn’t help but grin. “You’re an angel, then?” She didn’t think that he’d have been Adam; there wasn’t any sort of ferocity in Samandriel.
Samandriel blushed as he ducked his head and nodded. “You were right. Samandriel, angel of imagination and...” He cleared his throat as he blushed a little bit brighter. “fertility.” He still felt like he could fly, like he could sink his toes into the earth and watch things grow. “And there were so many other angels. All different kinds too. I think he liked the cherubim best, but he loved all of them even the ones who only seemed to put up with him because he was their brother and they liked seeing him excited. Like Raphael and Michael. I don’t think they liked him too much, but they allowed him around.”
“You mean... god?” She’d always thought of God as a sort of father to Raphael and Michael. “You know, this makes a staggering amount of sense when it comes to you.” Maybe their dreams were reflections of themselves, which was something that scared Abigail to think about when it came to herself.
“No, I mean dream me. I don’t think even dream me’s so much as heard his father’s voice.” But that was okay, because the angel seemed to exist on light and faith and joy. “Does it?”
“Of course it does. You’ve always made me feel at peace. Happy. Even lately, which I didn’t think was possible.” She looked down at her hands and found they were clenched. “Why wouldn’t someone like you? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Because angels are supposed to be warriors of God,” Samandriel said, “especially the archangels. I’m just a seraph and...well kind of like a puppy, really. It’s not a matter of not liking me in the dreams and maybe more of a matter of having completely different personalities.”
“You’re not an archangel in the dreams, then? Good.” She hated the idea of Samandriel being a warrior. “Suddenly I wish I were Catholic instead of being raised secularly.” She chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair. “For what it’s worth, I hope you get to dream of things like that for a long time. I hope you just get to watch forests and babies and ... horses being born and things. Someone has to have nice things around here.”
“There’s only four of them,” Samandriel said. “Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and L-” He stopped abruptly and looked at Abigail. “Lucifer,” he finished. “Oh, I think things just got very complicated.”
“Oh? How so?” Abigail blinked, scooting closer. “Are you okay?”
“Lucifer,” Samandriel explained. “Do you think...maybe the man I’m trying to convince to love me might not be so much a man at all?”
She hadn’t realized that was Samandriel’s goal at all, and so it took her a few moments to answer. “I know that there’s people from my dreams who’re here. Maybe he’s like you. Are there other angels around? If there’s angels here, I wonder if there are demons.” That wasn’t anything she wanted to think about. Maybe she’d be one of them.
“There is at least one,” Samandriel said, thinking about it all. “His name is Castiel. He’s very nice and very handsome and very married.”
“Aren’t you trying to get someone else to fall for you anyway?” Abigail smiled. “It’s good that he’s nice, though. You can see if you dream of each other.”
“He’s already dreamt of me,” Samandriel said, “but I suppose if Lucifer is Lucifer then perhaps it makes some sort of sense. Like attracts like.”
“As long as you fall in love with the pre-fallen variety. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” Abigail sighed. She worried about her friend sometimes, if only because he was so sweet. It seemed that people would try to take advantage of it.
“I suppose it depends on what account you’re reading. Some say that Lucifer wasn’t called that until after he fell, that he was called Samael in heaven. In my dreams, he seems to have always been Lucifer. I suppose there’s only one way to find out and that would be to wait until either the day he starts dreaming or I get further along to see. He’s beautiful there too, and always seems to be fond of indulging my enthusiasm.”
“Then I like him. You should be indulged more often.” Abigail smiled, leaning over to kiss Samandriel’s forehead. “I guess it’d be nice to dream of something where you already know bits and pieces of what’s going to happen. Or you can at least guess. Do you feel different while you’re awake?”
Samandriel thought about how he could best explain how he felt when he was awake. His head tilted to the side and he considered it. “Everything feels so alive, holds so much potential. Like what I was just playing. I don’t think I ever would have let loose like that before without needing to take myself through some music therapy. Now...now everything’s poetry.”
Standing up, she hugged him. “It was beautiful. I almost cried, you know.” He’d always been more sensitive than other people, but now it was like he was more perceptive. He was literally more sensitive, he was awakened. It was like he was a yogi, a guru, a buddha, and she thought it just made so much sense for him to be as such. It was like learning the perfect word for something she’d always wanted to say.
He wrapped his arms around her and then, because he could, pulled her close into his lap in the most nonsexual of ways. “I really don’t think I can go to college now, not when there’s so much else to see.” He looked up at her, all bright eyes and curiosity. “Do you think I’ll get wings?”
“If you do, they’ll be beautiful. Does your friend Castiel have them?” Abigail cocked her head to the side. “What did you want to do at school? You’ll find a way to do it without going to school.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
“Maybe? I suppose if he has wings and I’m still human I wouldn’t be able to see them. Angels seem to work like that.” He didn’t know if that was in his head yet, he hadn’t gotten to humanity existing, but he did know that they existed on a different wavelength than most things. Pop culture seemed to back him up on angels being able to hide their wings anyway.
“I was leaning towards Art Therapy. I’m not sure if that’s where I’d like to be now, though. Like I said, there’s too much.”
“Huh.” She smiled, looking up at him. “So I must not be as awful as I think if my brother’s an angel.” Art therapy would suit him, but so would a million other things. “You could take a few years and just travel. Experience things until you have it more hammered down.”
“Shush,” he said, holding her tighter. “You’re not awful at all. I’d be able to tell. I’m an angel. I know these things.” Maybe he couldn’t tell these things quite yet, but he was sure he’d still love her even when he could.
“You’re just saying that because you’re related to a murderer,” she mumbled. Her eyes were closed tightly and she wiggled closer. It made sense, though; the vague taboo of sleeping with her adopted father paled in comparison to the whole killing people thing!
“You are not who you were there,” Samandriel said firmly, shifting them so he could still hold her tight but also look her in the eye. “You got that? I don’t care about what you did in the dreams, here you’re my sister and if anyone hurts you I will end them.”
“My biological father already died here. Maybe it was punishment for what he did there.” She smiled dreamily, looking up at Samandriel. She ran her fingers through his hair. “And I didn’t have you there. You’re right. But you shouldn’t have to fight things. I should - I can learn from them.” That was what she was trying to tell herself, to at least see the dreams as an object lesson, as a way to keep her waking life on an even keel.
Samandriel closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers affectionately to calm them both down. “Angels are warriors,” he whispered, “even heaven’s artists are meant to fight.” He didn’t even sound too convinced himself. After all, no one in heaven had yet put a blade in his hand or even thought about training him. Well, perhaps one of the archangels had considered it, but then they were back to the part where no one had the patience to deal with him fully.
“Maybe you’ll wake up one day and just know how to do it, like I did with guns.” She’d actually been glad for that, what with the alien things that had attacked a while ago. She’d felt like her nightmares had been given purpose.
But there was a time for sad talk, and this wasn’t one of them. “So. Have you seen your star lately?” Lucifer was quite the man about town, so the double meaning amused Abigail.
“Nobody in heaven’s bothered to teach me yet,” Samandriel said. “I’m just running around like the happiest glowy puppy.” At least he thought he was glowing. What he did know was that even in waking life, he desperately missed angelsong.
Bringing up Lucifer, however, well...that had him pulling her off his lap and letting her go. “I have, yes. I uh, got into the bar and...” And what?
“You are a happy glowy puppy,” Abigail eyerolled. But when he moved her off of his lap, she couldn’t help but stand up and smirk. “And?” The question was loaded.
Samandriel closed his eyes and blushed brightly. “And...we kissed and I made no effort to lie to him about my age and....” If it were possible, Samandriel blushed darker. “And he watched me get myself off and it was the most intense thing I’d experienced until Creation.”
“That’s ... oh, wow, so he kind of digs the power thing, huh.” Abigail bit her lower lip, appreciating the idea of the act and trying very hard not to picture Samandriel in said act. “How old is he, out of curiosity? Or did you not discuss that? I’m so happy that he seems interested.”
“42,” Samandriel said. “I don’t even feel the slightest bit weird about any of this, and maybe if Lucifer is Lucifer then I’m just...I don’t know...angelsexual? Is that a thing?” Castiel had a rather similar effect on him that Samandriel couldn’t rightly explain, though he didn’t think that Castiel would at all ever really be the same kind of holder of power as Lucifer was.
“It is for you,” Abigail shrugged. “You like your own people? And don’t feel weird about it. Men are ... I don’t know, they grow up slower, present company excepted, so guys in their forties are kind of perfect. At least, that’s what I think.” Because if she hadn’t been with her father, she’d have nursed a fairly savage crush on Will Graham.
“Maybe it’s a species thing?” Samandriel asked, thinking about it seriously. “Maybe I just...never actually was all that interested in other people because I’m really not other people. It’s all very confusing.”
“That makes sense. You’re humanity’s caretaker, so falling in love with one of us isn’t in your best interests. It’s forbidden, if I recall.” She squeezed his hand, running her fingers over the veins on top of his hand. “Don’t think about it too much if it’s confusing. Just do what you think is right.”
“Castiel and I went to go get coffee and then sit by the ocean,” Samandriel said softly, “the other angel. The one who is definitely my brother.” And who Samandriel now remembered very well from the dreams. “I fell asleep on him.”
Abigail couldn’t help but smile at that. “You do that when you’re really comfortable. I’m glad.” Samandriel needed - no, he deserved - the best friends possible, and in high quantity. “Do you and Lucifer have a date or something coming up? You should go out.”
“Not officially. I think he’s trying to keep me waiting probably because of the whole overeager puppy thing. Or maybe he’s just trying to draw it all out.” Samandriel sighed and settled back into the couch. “Maybe I’ll try to convince him to just let me stay at his place while my parents are gone.”
“Maybe he wants to wait until you really want it, until you beg.” Abigail understood that, but to cover up her knowing smile, she inspected a cuticle and idly picked at it.
Samandriel turned bright red. “Abigail,” he said, managing just barely to stay very firm and serious. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am a seventeen year old boy. I can promise you I’m already ready to beg just thinking about it.”
She grinned at his blush, kissing him on the cheek. “Then you should. I’m sure he’ll think it’s very pretty on you.”
“When I’m ready,” he replied stubbornly. “I mean I am ready, I just don’t want him to have the satisfaction just yet.”
That made Abigail laugh delightedly. “You two are already adorable. When do you see him again?” Abigail couldn’t wait to meet him.
“I don’t know,” Samandriel said, shrugging. “Soon, I hope. I imagine he’ll text me at his pleasure and I’ll come running.” It seemed like the most likely scenario.
It was a story that Abigail was familiar with. “Or you could disobey him. It’ll make him do something sooner.” Abigail grinned, moving her scarf to show a particularly bright love mark.
Samandriel frowned at her. “Or it could make him punish me by denying contact for longer,” he pointed out. “I’d rather not cross that line until I know what the consequences are.”
“Mm, point.” Abigail leaned against her friend, smiling a little. “I’m glad you have a boyfriend, you know. I didn’t think you really were interested in people. Turns out I was right, just not in the way I’d thought.” She’d thought he was asexual, not angelsexual.
He put his arm around her and held her close against him. “Well, I’m glad one of us had hope then,” he teased, messing her hair.