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He’s resting, eyes closed, curled in on himself, the blanket provided to him coiled around his body like a great white serpent. The worn bed leaves much to be desired in regards to comfort but this is the only thing he’s permitted. A soiled dirty mattress and a duvet with holes. Gabriel is glad he has even that. It’s a pitiful existence but he’ll take what he has, gladly sleeping day after day on stains his body has produced, blood, semen and even urine resides deep within the fabrics.
Gabriel sleeps deep these days, sinking into oblivion whenever he gets the chance, a respite from the constant presence of Lucifer’s mind and body, of hands that press deep within him and twist him into something he isn’t, couldn’t be, but is now. He’s long since become a shell of what he once was, a broken casket that is hollow and tired, something Lucifer could easily crush beneath his heel. But Lucifer never does, doesn’t even appear to consider it. At first this disturbed Gabriel, and he longed for death, but now every day is a struggle, a race in which he fights tooth and claw to survive, to win.
His dreams are strange wastelands, deserted and destroyed. Filled with shadows and a stillness that he’s learned to fear. Death haunts him, ever present in his sleeping mind, walking with silent footsteps and the click of his cane. Gabriel avoids him, runs from him but the nights when Lucifer insists on staying near, pressed to his sweaty back - cuddling perhaps - Death is there, speaks to him. His words are sober, gentle but there’s a bite within them, laced between words that aren’t meant to worry are knife edged hisses, truths whispered in the no mans land of reality and fantasy.
Gabriel has learned to adapt to the horrors of his life, of Lucifer and Death, of the chain that binds them all together. For Lucifer has titled the balance of things by keeping him, by not killing him. Death hounds Lucifer but the result is the same, Lucifer brushing off the horseman, pushing the thing older than time itself away into the back of his mind.
Gabriel knows of the internal struggle between the two but doesn’t fully understand, so instead he sleeps and rests and hopes to heal before Lucifer returns wanting more. His breaths are calm, deep in the dark of night, his mind a blank canvas, rendered white with relaxation, a lack of fear. Something he hasn’t had for a long time. He savours the joy of this gift, this precious moment given to him by, well, maybe God. He clings to it until a cool hand draws him up and out.
Lucifer pulls Gabriel from his slumber easily, his palm pressed to Gabriel’s bare thigh. It jolts him awake, sitting up and scrambling away from the touch.
“Dear, brother,” Lucifer murmurs and reaches out. His fingers curl around Gabriel’s wrist, guiding him back. “Do not be afraid.”
At one time Gabriel would’ve spit bile in the form of words at Lucifer, now he merely allows himself to be pulled over. He sighs softly when Lucifer releases him.
“What have you done with Michael?” He asks quietly, he senses Lucifer is in a forgiving mood.
“That is none of your concern,” Lucifer replies his eyes growing dark. Gabriel nods hurriedly, bowing his head, he feels tears forming at the thought of his eldest brother, lost or destroyed. As they begin to roll down his cheeks, Lucifer catches them, commanding them away.
“Why are you here?” Gabriel dares to ask, trembling, his body readying itself for Lucifer’s strike. No hand collides with his face, however, and he peeks up at the other. Lucifer’s face is a mask of - no, not possible - uncertainty. The fallen stands there silent for what feels like hours before he shifts.
His movements are rushed, nervous, as if this is something new to him. Gabriel curiously watches from beneath his lashes, not daring to outright stare. From the folds of his clothing, Lucifer presents three items. He holds them up, unlatching the first, longest one.
Gabriel is surprised to see what they are. Lucifer reaches around him and latches it around his neck. Gabriel brings a hand up to touch it. It’s a finely woven chain, weaved with the smallest hairs of what appears to be silver. It’s beautiful and Gabriel has the mind to open his mouth and thank Lucifer for the delicate jewelry but Lucifer presses a finger to his lips. He goes quiet, the words dying in his throat.
Lucifer then unlatches the others and with careful precision secures them around each of Gabriel’s wrists. They dangle there, light as a feather and just as beautiful. Gabriel is dumbfounded, surprised by this strange turn of events.
“Is it a gift?” He asks when Lucifer looks at him. He studies the bracelets with tired, wondering eyes.
“Of course,” comes Lucifer’s reply. An icy hand tousles his hair and Gabriel doesn’t flinch away as he usually would, though a part of him cringes.
“Why?”
Lucifer seems to contemplate the question for a few minutes before merely leaning down. Their lips touch for a fraction of a second, enough for Gabriel to feel himself uncharacteristically heat up. Then Lucifer steps back and melts into the darkness. Gabriel’s left in silence. He doesn’t fall back into sleep, instead he lays there wondering, the silver light around his neck and wrists, a continuous reminder of something he will never understand.