"Do it," Gabriel pressed. "Do it!"
"No." The sharp point of Michael's sword retreated from Gabriel's throat, but it didn't matter. His heart was already broken; he would surely die before a tear could even fall from those glorious, cerulean eyes which remained fixed upon his brother as he turned away.
"I would not have shown you such mercy," he admitted, rising, despite the spears of agony emanating from the wound to his abdomen. Because I followed His orders unwaveringly, he thought, to which there are no exceptions.
"I know. That's why you failed him." Michael kept his sable, moonlit wings to Gabriel, for fear that the disappointment clearly etched upon his face would spur his brother into another furious, misguided attack. He didn't want to hurt him any more than had already been necessary.
Regardless, Gabriel didn't need to see it to know it was there. It was like bathing in vinegar with third-degree burns. He looked down over the barren expanse of mountain before him, and launched himself into the forceful, winding current of air that weaved among the jagged landscape. Father, guide me. I don't understand.
Beating his wings only to stay aloft, he let himself be swept away by the Lord's own mighty hand. It took him meandering down, deep into the fractures between the rock where the moon couldn't reach its bright glow, before sending him soaring back up and around the plateau from which Michael now took off in the opposite direction: Heavenward. He felt his brother's heavy gaze upon him as they passed, but the airstream lowered him closer to the dusty desert ground beyond the ledge where they'd fought, and a light diverted his attention.
His descent slowing, there was nothing left but to stretch his wings and allow his feet to touch down in the sand, illuminated by the blinding headlights of the overturned car.
Furrowing his brow in confusion, he approached the abandoned vehicle. The beams of light poured across the dry grass, where shards of glass and debris lay, glistening with blood. They were but the end of a trail, left in the wake of the car's wreckage. Up ahead, the remains of a wing mirror reflected the dying moonlight as the gathering stormclouds swallowed it whole, and beyond, half obscured by the brush and an old, rusty fence, was a girl.
Gabriel recalled the surprising strength of those willowy arms around his throat as he stared at them, now motionless against the darkened road. He'd barely even registered her presence when he'd left her there, focused on the task at hand. Drawing closer, he noted the crimson pool beneath her head, and the unnatural angle of her leg. He felt his knees buckle and hit the asphalt beside her. How could you ask me to do such a thing and then tell me it served no purpose?
She lay sprawled to the side, arms outstretched, her long, silken hair across her face. With trembling fingers and cloudy vision, Gabriel raked her locks back out of her open eyes. As he did so, they blinked, flickering among the first droplets of rain. She's alive! He leaned over, sheltering her face, and placed a hand upon her heart.
He kneeled there, still as a rock, pinning her soul in place for almost an hour before he finally managed to heal the girl's body thoroughly. Overhead, the sky cracked and rumbled as the rain thrashed the road and the ebony feathers spread over the length of her body. Her pulse was strong beneath his palm; her chest rose and fell in time with his own, and her turquoise eyes watched in silent bewilderment.
Neither angel nor mortal knew what to do next. He wondered if he should return; if his work here was done. Perhaps it was God's intention that he redeem himself for his failure? In which case, his work here was barely begun. His chest ached and his body felt heavy in the hammering rain, and all the while, the girl only wondered why someone so seemingly fond of destruction would save her inconsequential life.
As swiftly as she'd taken a breath and opened her mouth to speak, however, Gabriel held the tips of his fingers to her lips. He slid one arm beneath her fur-wrapped shoulders, hooked the other under her knees, and lifted her from her almost-deathbed with ease. Standing, he raised his great wings, preparing to take to the roaring skies, but upon feeling a tightening atop his collarbone in the girl's grip on the edge of his breastplate, he reconsidered. He wouldn't frighten her further; he knew she must already be terrified of him, as was often the case when angels appeared before mankind, only this time it was justified.
Instead, he brought his dripping wings around her, crossing at the tips: an impenetrable shield from the storm as Gabriel began walking aimlessly on, away from the now historical little diner called Paradise Falls. He could see a new, burning question form in her bright eyes for every step he took, but they were questions for which he had no answer. At least, no answer he could currently bear to voice. In the meantime, he held her comparably tiny frame close as they travelled in silence.
The wind howled and the storm raged on with a determination Gabriel suspected to be of Heavenly origin. He thought of the explosion, and the mob of angel-hijacked bodies it had expelled, deducing that the Lord was putting out the fire; His own divine form of damage control.
As the miles and minutes passed, he felt the girl's fingers slacken, and by the time dawn broke she'd fallen into a restless sleep. Her face was marred with anguish, though what, precisely, filled her mind, he neither knew nor cared to find out. He lowered his gaze to the dark, feathered refuge in which he'd enveloped her and brushed his lips against her hairline, hushing away her unease.
"You're safe;" he assured her with his deep, lulling baritone, "don't be afraid."
Almost immediately, the troubled creases between her brows melted away. Gabriel kept a close watch over her as the sun began its dazzling, languid stretch across the horizon in beams of copper and glimmering gold, oblivious to the ruin it rose over.
