Summary: Michael reads Gabriel's letter. Sequel to Just One Yesterday.

Warnings: Slight references to suicide. Character Death.

He wasn't used to feeling so spaced. Heaven was a hive of activity; his siblings kept coming and going with information and there was a circle of angels all around him almost constantly. He felt like a general preparing for battle, which he supposed in a way he was, but this was Lucifer. Lucifer shouldn't require a military operation against him. Lucifer was just his little brother, misguided maybe, psychotic definitely but he still shouldn't warrant this. He shouldn't be preparing himself to kill him.

Another angel arrived brandishing a folder at him and talking rapidly. He tried to listen, to process what was going on but he couldn't hear a word any of them said, like he separated from them by an invisible wall, several feet thick. It felt like he was underwater and suddenly he got a sense of what it might be like not to be able to breathe, choking and close, and he stumbled ever so slightly. He felt the worry of the other angels, felt them all step closer and he squeezed his eyes shut and fled, undignified and scrambling like a fledgling who had only just learnt to fly.

The mounting pressure he'd been feeling melted away, although he still felt blurry and uneasy. The apocalypse was getting to him, making him unsteady. Weak. He knew what must be done but as it came at him, terrifyingly close, he wondered if he'd have the strength to do it. Defy his father or kill his brother, that was his choice. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to put aside those thoughts. He didn't have a choice, he would have to obey his father and kill Lucifer and dwelling on this wouldn't make it any easier.

He looked around him, understanding suddenly dawning on him. He felt the sudden strange urge to laugh and cry at the same time, the feeling burning in his chest as he sank down onto a weathered boulder. In his moment of weakness and fear he'd transported himself here, the glade he'd brought Gabriel to play back when Gabriel could barely fly. What did that say about him? It had changed of course, time had aged the place so much so it was unrecognisable if not for the energy bubbling through the place. It felt like Gabriel, a happy Gabriel who had laughed and played.

He missed Gabriel. Part of him longed to call Gabriel back home, to force him to pick a side, to force him to pick his side. But it was a selfish impulse. Gabriel had run because he couldn't stand the fighting and no matter how Michael longed for his little brother, no matter how alone, how scared he got, he couldn't drag Gabriel back into the fight. He was already being forced to hurt one brother, he would die before hurting another.

The sunlight played in the clearing, golden and warm, mottled through the green leaves of the surrounding trees. Something about the clearing was calming, strengthening. He would face his destiny and perhaps when everything was finally over their father would come home. It was the one tiny ray of warmth he could find in the darkness that maybe, just maybe, if he completed his duty, if he proved himself a good son, then his father would come back. Maybe it was all a test and his father wouldn't really ask him to kill Lucifer. Maybe.

He watched the dust particles dance in the buttery light, letting the energy of this ancient place recharge his grace. He stood and stretched his wings, grateful to be able to do so without hitting one of his siblings in the face. He knew they were only trying to help, but being surrounded by his siblings constantly only added to the feeling that he was suffocating. It felt good to be on his own, though he knew he'd have to go back soon. He'd tuned out his siblings voices but now he could feel their anxiety starting to build. He imagined them in heaven, panicking, running in circles as they all tried to figure out what had happened. It wouldn't be out of concern for him though, he knew that. The two angels who would show concern were gone: Gabriel gone with the wind to some far, unknown corner of the earth and Lucifer was now the enemy. To the others he was no more than a weapon, the one angel who could defeat Lucifer and bring about paradise. Even Raphael had long since lost interest in them all. He was truly alone.

He was preparing himself to leave, to go back to heaven and become the calm in-control being the others expected him to be, when they caught his eye. Several sheets of paper, carefully jammed in a tiny crevice in the rock. Part of him, the part most affected by the steadily rising anxiety of his siblings, wanted to leave; the papers were none of his concern. But something about them piqued his curiosity.

He picked them up.

There were several sheets, the paper heavy and good quality and covered in a neat elegant handwriting. With a start he realised the handwriting was achingly familiar and then he realised the papers were addressed to him. Weary and unsure he flicked through the papers. The handwriting started degenerating just over halfway through the letter into a messy hurried scrawl and then reformed suddenly for the last couple of lines becoming neat and ordered once more. He stared at the last seven letters, beautifully formed, too perfect as though someone had put all their effort into making them look neat. He swallowed, the seven letters taunting him.

He felt a pressure in his chest and the world started swaying and swimming again, blurry and uneven around him, only the letter in sharp focus. He knew he had to calm down; Gabriel could have written this letter ages ago to impart good news, it didn't necessarily mean that Gabriel was in any sort of trouble now. Besides if Gabriel was in trouble he'd come home and ask for help wouldn't he? He smoothed out the pages, unable to shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest. He carefully sorted the sheets back into order, words and phrases jumping out at him as he did so, each time hitting him like a blow.

He began to read.

He felt numb. The world was crumpling around him, folding in on itself until there was nothing left but him and the letter. He read slowly, terrified but compelled to go on as though an unseen force was dragging him towards the letters conclusion. Each word pierced through the numbness, a shard of ice inching its way deeper and deeper into his core, feeling the words begin to split him until he was so fragile a breath of wind could shatter him. The only thread keeping him tied together was the thought that Gabriel was alive somewhere; he would know if his brother had died.

He reached the end of the letter and ran his finger lightly over his brothers name. He knew he should go instantly to Gabriel's side to beg him not to do it, but he couldn't move. Terror had paralysed him, pain was breaking him, he could feel himself begin to crumble under the weight of the revelation and he was completely unable to move. And there was something else too, a knowledge that was too terrible to even contemplate. He knew what he should do and it wasn't to go to Gabriel. If he killed Lucifer, if he did it and did it now then Gabriel couldn't carry out his plan and Gabriel wouldn't die. He'd have to sacrifice one brother for the sake of the other and he felt his insides curl at the thought of it. But it was his duty to kill Lucifer, he'd always known that and if he didn't do it soon he'd lose Gabriel too.

The sunlight was still playing in the glade, warm and cheerful and mocking. The sunlight as golden and beautiful and wonderful as Lucifer had been, flitting through the leaves playfully, carefree and warm as Gabriel had been. He stood shakily, forcing himself to focus on what was important: finding a vessel no matter the cost, finding Lucifer and ending everything. But even now he couldn't go, couldn't even begin to think about starting his task. Even now with Gabriel at stake he was questioning his fathers orders, mind racing to try and find a way out. He was circling he knew, spiralling deeper into a dark despair, he'd known the answer, known it since the dawn of time. Lucifer would die, and he'd die at his hand.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

He knew he was being selfish, knew that Gabriel's life hung in the balance and that if anything happened to Gabriel it would be on him, it would be his fault for not being strong enough. For not being the good son, the good brother. For not being good enough.

He'd go to Gabriel. He'd beg Gabriel, plead with him, lock him away if he had to so Gabriel couldn't carry out his plan. If he went to Gabriel and saved him he could buy more time, build up his barriers until he was strong enough to look Lucifer in the eye without breaking.

He closed his eyes, desperately pushing away the mingled fear and pain and consolidated all his strength, forcing himself to focus on the energy in the glade that had felt to him so like Gabriel and tried searching for that tell tale energy out there but every time he extended his senses past the clearing he felt terror overwhelm him. Gabriel could be facing Lucifer at this very moment and the thought frightened him more than he'd ever imagined was possible.

Father please he begged. Let me find him, let me -

His voice cracked and he gritted his teeth, only half aware of the tears that were beginning to burn in his eyes. He threw his conscious at the world, doing the mental equivalent of flinging open every door and tearing down every wall until he found what he was looking for. He his desperation increase, filling him up, pouring out of all his cracks, almost blinding him. Just when he thought there was no hope, just when he thought Gabriel had found a way to cloak himself completely from his elder brother he saw it, faint and almost completely masked but still there, warm and familiar. It wasn't even that far from here, a hotel.

He felt faint with relief, feeling it flood him, forcing out the desperation and fear in a tidal wave of warmth and light. Gabriel was alive, safe. He felt dizzy, light with relief. Gabriel was alive. Alive. The word had never sounded so wonderful. And he could save him, could stop -

The world shifted, an infinitesimal amount, too small for a human to feel. But to him it may as well have disappeared out from under his feet. He felt a rush of wind buffet him and he fell to his knees, as the hole Gabriel's letter had left in him ripped open and he felt himself shatter, empty and suddenly very alone. He was still half fixed on Gabriel's energy and grace and he felt it snuff out, a candle in the wind. He hadn't realised how much Gabriel's mere presence on the earth had anchored him but now he felt himself beginning to drift and his final ties to Gabriel were cut.

The world settled. The sunlight still shone, slightly weaker now as the sun slipped further towards the horizon. Dust particles glittered in the warm rays. Leaves gently swayed in the light breeze. The clearing still felt like Gabriel.

He fled.

He landed in a corridor and realised he'd run to the hotel. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to see but now he was here he couldn't pull himself away. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the blood of the pagan gods who lay dead lining the halls. Lucifer's presence burnt into the air, so strong he wondered how he hadn't felt it when he'd searched for Gabriel. He walked slowly down the corridor, tracing the path he instinctively knew Lucifer had walked, legs heavy, wings heavier. He felt disconnected as though he was walking through a nightmare; the blood seemed too bright and the bodies seemed fake. He had the strange impulse to laugh. He touched some of the blood, still wet on the walls, stared at it vivid and bright and red on his fingertip. He felt it, wet and slightly sticky on his finger but it brought with it no emotion. He dropped his arm heavily and continued moving. He rounded a corner and stood in a doorway and there, lying on the floor, the shadow of his wings burnt into the ground either side of him was his brother.

He stared, frightened by how he felt nothing, by how unreal it felt. He stared at the unfamiliar vessel and at the familiar wings. He thought of Gabriel as he'd known him: the golden hair and fair skin, warmth and brightness, amber eyes alight, that light so well known to him. The vessel was empty now. Gabriel was gone, fading energy and a pattern of wings the only markers he'd even been in the first place.

He wobbled, limp and fell as his legs gave out. The fall lasted for what felt like an eternity before he eventually landed on the floor with a thud, back pressed into the door frame, head cracking against the wood. He barely felt it. He felt nothing at all.

He sat there for a long time staring at nothing wondering how it was possible to feel so heavy and yet like he was floating away all at the same time.

Another indeterminable time later and he realised he was crying, the tears sliding down his cheeks. He reached up and touched his cheek, felt the contact, the smooth skin of his cheek, the wetness and warmth of the tears. But he still couldn't feel anything. Crying was an automatic response to something he still couldn't feel.

It was when the last of Gabriel's energy faded from the room and he simultaneously realised he'd been using the feeling of Gabriel's presence as a comfort blanket and that he'd never feel Gabriel's presence again that whatever had been holding his emotions at bay broke. He gasped, dragging air he didn't need into his body in shuddering shaking breathes and he shook under the weight of the guilt and misery.

I'm sorry. He whispered. I'm so sorry.

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