Who: Samandriel & Garcia What: Meeting for the first time. When: 9/17. Where: Garcia’s place. Rating: PG-13. Status: Complete!
It possibly was rude, but Samandriel wasn’t really considering all that. He’d heard her praying while he was stuck, trapped, really, and he couldn’t help but be curious and want to thank her. Her prayers were different. They were on his behalf and oh so earnest even if she too thought he was dead.
Finding her was easy.
Her home wasn’t warded at all against them, but perhaps it would have been better if he’d gone in knowing the layout properly as he ended up standing on her coffee table, one foot just inches away from a video game controller.
“Oh,” he said simply. Well, at least he hadn’t actually crushed anything. He was dressed all in finery, white, because it seemed somehow appropriate and what Lucifer might like to see him in just for the figurative emphasis on his general Goodness. “Are you Penelope?” His wings were in the visible spectrum, stretching and shifting behind him as though he were still getting used to being able to move them again instead of being all crushed into the floor and restricted. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might be able to see. He was thinking of nothing more than meeting this person who was important to both his brother and his brother’s husband.
Blinking when she heard a quiet voice murmuring behind her, Garcia turned around and gasped when she saw an angel with beautiful wings standing on her coffee table. “Samandriel? You have to be, you can’t be Lucifer - “ Lucifer wouldn’t be so young and so sweet.
She put down the teacup she was washing and moved to her living room to hug him. Her arms wrapped around his thin frame, hugging gently. “Oh, you’re alive! Your wings are so beautiful and you’re here!”
Samandriel smoothed his hand over her hair while he let himself be hugged, feeling very much like some breed of renaissance statue, or at least somewhen in that era. Time got a little fuzzy when you were so far from actual happenings. Baroque possibly.
“Of course I’m here,” he said simply, bending to kiss the top of her head. “A bit late, but you did pray for me even if it wasn’t to me. I thought I should come see you and make certain you knew.”
“I didn’t know if it would help, but ... it’s what I do. I never know if it helps, but at least I can say I tried.” Garcia looked up and smiled at him. “You’re just the prettiest angel,” she chuckled, reaching out to stroke a wing. “No wonder they were so upset. Do you want some tea?” Part of her couldn’t believe that this was her life - random angels in her living room all the time. But the rest of her wouldn’t have it any other way. It was probably just the price of being Dean Winchester’s sister.
“You helped Castiel keep faith, and that helped me to be able to at least try to tell him where I was,” Samandriel said, stepping carefully off of the coffee table. He shifted his wings out of the visible spectrum just so no one would have to deal with the headache of seeing them pass through things when he moved. “If you’re already making some, sure, but no need to trouble yourself on my account.”
“It’s no trouble,” she smiled. Moving toward the kitchen, she put the kettle on. “I didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t have normally done. I’m glad it helped, though.” Garcia felt her cheeks faintly redden, but she didn’t mind. “He was just so sad, I just wanted to help somehow.” Story of Penelope Garcia’s life.
“I know,” Samandriel said softly. “I was there when it all happened, even if they didn’t know it.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, boo,” she murmured. That called for another hug and a big kiss on the cheek. “You poor thing, you didn’t deserve that. You know that, right?” She cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet her eyes.
Samandriel shifted out of that silghtly awkward cheek hug. “Of course I know that. Despite all appearances, I’m not a child.”
“I didn’t think you were. Self-loathing isn’t a thing that just kids do.” She noticed he wasn’t a fan of cheek kisses and made a mental note to kiss his forehead in future. She took out some mugs, putting a bit of sugar in hers. “How do you take it?”
“With a bit of honey if you have some, but just straight otherwise,” he said, smiling kindly at her. “No, it’s not, and I set to rights everything I could.” If any of them had a monopoly on self-loathing, it was her adoptive brother, but he wasn’t about to say anything like that.
She did have honey, and she was careful to stir a teaspoon of it into his mug. “Well, thank God for that.” She squeezed his hand. “Lucifer’s happy to see you, then?” She knew how sad she’d be if her ... whatever Sebastian was to her - if he was hurt or missing. She’d be devastated.
“Happy’s an understatement,” Samandriel said, running his thumb along the inside of the band on his finger. “I think he still worries about letting me out of his sight, to be honest.” “That’s gorgeous,” Garcia whispered when she noticed his ring. “I’d worry too. That’s the problem with blaming ourselves, there’s always more than enough blame to go around.” She wasn’t drinking her tea, but she’d really just made it to have something to do with her hands.
“He pulled the trigger,” Samandriel said, “he at least has reason to be carrying some blame, and while Dean technically has the supplies to trap an angel, he doesn’t know he does yet and no book in this world would have been able to help him to know what he had.” He took the tea with a charming smile, “thank you, Ms. Garcia.”
“Please, call me Penelope. You’re family, right?” She smiled and leaned against the counter. “What did he have? Do you think it’s the same thing that made me able to fly that whole week?” She’d actually been doing her own research, trying to figure out what had happened the whole time. It gave her something to do besides freak out.
“Nothing quite so fancy as that. He merely happens to have a jar of holy oil in the trunk of his car,” Samandriel said, sipping his tea. “Surround an angel with a burning ring of holy oil and they’re effectively trapped. I’m not sure what could have been done after they trapped him, but it certainly would have bought time to figure it out.”
“What was he? If you don’t mind my asking?” Garcia tucked her hair behind her ears, blonde with pink streaks that week.
“No less angel than I,” Samandriel said. “I suppose you might explain it by saying that he was my mirror. He enjoyed passing himself off as demonic, but I’m certain he didn’t expect Dean to have the weapon he did and meant to draw out the attempts to kill him much longer.”
That made her sigh. “We’re not meant to have to literally come face to face with our demons,” she murmured. “It should be a bloody metaphor.” She began to rifle through her cupboards, finding some chocolate cookies. “Nothing biscuits can’t help with. Though this comes darn close.” She didn’t really like swearing, so she avoided it.
“Please, I’m not hungry,” Samandriel said politely. “Though I appreciate the gesture, truly.” He hadn’t eaten for a while now. It was one of several things he didn’t truly need to do anymore.
“Well, more for me, then.” She nibbled idly at a chocolate biscuit, looking up at him. “Is it silly of me if I say I understand why everyone was so worried about you?”
“Of course not. You’re close enough with my brother and Dean to understand how close our rather odd family is and you seem to be a very empathic person so why wouldn’t you understand?” Well it made sense to Samandriel.
That made Garcia laugh. “I meant that you’re ... I don’t know. Those boys are sweet, but they need a little bit of light in their lives.” And while Lucifer might have been that in stories, she doubted he was brighter than this Samandriel. “Dean and Castiel are pretty prone to being ... introspective. Sad.” She recognized it because she did the same thing. It was why she surrounded herself with happy things.
“Even in heaven, Castiel didn’t smile often, and I’m not sure Dean really remembers how.” It was honest while he considered all of this. “But with a guiding hand, they both can manage just fine. Dean, however, I think would be far more responsive to Lucifer than he ever would to me.”
“I think it’s why I like Dean so much. He’s got such a gorgeous smile when he really does. And I don’t mean it in the way most girls do - I mean it’s literally beautiful. Boy’s a darn painting, really. I haven’t met Lucifer in person.” She’d offered to help him with drudgery when they thought Samandriel was dead, if only because she’d understood that things like getting groceries or paying bills sort of fell by the wayside when someone was mourning. “Castiel is part kitty, I think.” Even though Dean had gotten ears and a tail, she had more experience with Castiel rumbling when she pet his hair.
“Cats aren’t nearly as loyal as Castiel is.” Granted, Castiel’s loyalty was for Dean and only Dean, but that was more a matter of the strangest rebellion of heaven’s will that Samandriel had ever seen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Castiel ended up Falling for Dean in their dream lives.
“Lucifer is...while perhaps not conventionally attractive,” Samandriel slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture for her to look at, “a man who carries a presence with him that I don’t think anyone else can quite match.”
“And they’re not nearly as cute when they purr,” Garcia grinned. She took Samandriel’s cell phone and raised an eyebrow at the picture of Lucifer. “You’re not kidding, look at those eyes. Guessing he’s about as deep as a glacier, then?” She meant it as a compliment; she admired people who could keep lots of parts of their personalities hidden. She was such a quick study, such an easy read, that it was totally alien to her. “He seemed so composed. It’s awe inspiring.”
“To everyone else, perhaps, but around me, he’s just a big goof. Well, perhaps not goof, but about as un-Satanic as you can get,” Samandriel said simply. He took the phone back and smiled at the photo, utterly devoted before he put it back in his pocket. “Dean was made to be Michael’s vessel,” Samandriel said, explaining, “and while I have nothing against him and Castiel together, there is a certain amount of choice that went into what they are both in this world and the other.” It was clear in his tone that he cared deeply for both of them and only wanted them happy. “I, however, at least in a heavenly sense, was quite literally made to sit at Lucifer’s right hand at least before the Fall.”
Part of Garcia would always believe in Fate and Destiny. It made her smile, and she couldn’t help but hug him again. “I’m glad you two found each other, you know. It’s a sad thing to have a soul mate out there and not know where they are.” She went back to her cup of tea, thinking about how it was also sweet that Dean and Castiel had cast their lot in together too. Here dreams were nothing so remarkable, but at least she could help them all out with a little grounding.
“I believe you found yours as well, Penelope,” Samandriel said, perhaps having eavesdropped on more of her heart than he cared to admit.
That made Garcia’s cheeks go bright red and she bit her lip. “Oh, I don’t ... we’re not even seeing each other exclusively.” Of course he knew about Sebastian.
“Neither are Dean and Castiel,” Samandriel pointed out. “The logistics of your relationship mean nothing when it comes to whether or not you should be together.”
“Sebastian’s much less... keen than I am. I don’t think he’s really been with anyone for very long.” And Garcia expected him to find a leggy supermodel at any time.
“He’s Scottish,” Samandriel pointed out. “The United Kingdom seems to breed people who are slightly deficient in actually expressing emotion. Don’t turn your life into a self-fulfilling prophecy, Penelope.”
“Oh, I’m going to hang in. I’m here and his until he says when.” Garcia smiled and looked down at her feet. “We’re only up to the third Doctor in all of our rewatches anyway. Lots more for us.” She looked up, leveling the full weight of her smile at Samandriel. “Yeah, I get why they love you. You make it easy.”
“One of us has to,” Samandriel pointed out, chuckling softly. He finished off his tea and set the empty mug back down on the table. “It was very good, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. You can come over anytime you want to, you know. Any of you can.” Well, as long as she and Sebastian weren’t otherwise occupied. “Sometimes getting away is nice.”
“I appreciate that,” Samandriel said, “and...I know you worry about them, our alcoholic brother in law in particular, but...he will be okay. I promise you.”
“He’d better be, or I’ll whoop him. Sister’s prerogative,” she beamed. Granted, it was bravado to just cover up her worry, but she didn’t have to tell Samandriel that. He probably knew already.
“Dean Winchester is not dying. Not any more,” was all Samandriel could or would say to that. Castiel might not have been as aware of it as he ought to have been, but Samandriel would cover the wounds in his brother in law that Castiel couldn’t see. “I should probably get to work. If you and Sebastian would ever like a nice night out, I can get you on the list at Lux and ensure that the staff treats you even better than they normally would.” “I’m sure he’d love that. And I’ll take any excuse to get dressed up,” she added. “Thank you for coming to see me. I’m glad someone heard me.” She felt herself wringing her hands for some reason. “I hope you stay safe, Samandriel.”
Samandriel got up and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Peace be with you, Penelope Garcia,” he whispered and was gone.
Garcia just smiled to herself, clearing up his teacup. “And with you, Samandriel. Always.”