Michael likes to pride himself in being completely professional when it comes to dealing with particular angels whom had once been on the list considered the 'naughty' list, but even he was privy to such things as grudges and hatred when it came to certain specific siblings.
When Gadreel had been pardoned by Father Himself for the wrongs he had committed, it had not gone over as well with the masses as it had with the two of them.
Upon their return to Heaven, the first thing Raphael had demanded be done was the Prisons be investigated. There had been cases in the past where prisoners had been given extra 'charges' then those they had been brought there for. Isolations were being tortured, and, well, that was it.
People who were not given the verdict of torture, were being tortured.
They had pulled a few of the prisoners out almost immediately; Akabel, Sarquel, Samyaza. Then travelled deeper and deeper into the bowels upon Father's orders.
And they'd pulled Gadreel out.
Raphael had been disgusted by his state enough to take him on as his personal charge making him virtually untouchable. But, there were those who still blamed the Guard for letting the Serpent in, even after Lucifer had sworn that it was all his doing, he had played on Gadreel's love and trust, and betrayed him, betrayed them all (it had been a condition to his allowance back into Heaven, admit his wrongs publicly-he'd surprised them all by complying) and as sad as it was Michael was one of those few who did publicly detest the former prisoner.
His own treatment of his brothers charge was something to be desired, honestly, to an outsider it would be down right shameful.
But Michael didn't care.
In his opinion, Gadreel was the reason Lucifer fell, why Father had left. He was the reason why all the bad that had happened, had happened.
"Come, Raphael has commanded for your presence, on your feet."
Michael had absolutely no patience for the clearly unwell angel, not caring that it took him a good few moments to get himself to his feet, in his opinion the betrayer should be blessed as it was that he got to have something as trivial as a bed.
Had it been up to him, Gadreel would still be in the prisons.
He'd deserved whatever it was he had been getting.
Normally his brothers tried to be the ones to take him to Raphael when his presence was requested, Lucifer and Gabriel could see the resentment built up behind his peaceful front. But, alas, today was not one of those days.
One of the downsides of being a former prisoner was that he still needed to have an escort wherever he went.
Now, Michael had not known how bad it was until he had 'volunteered' his services in escorting their pampered prisoner to his scheduled meeting at the hospital.
He marched along behind him, keeping sentry as always, and his eyes widened.
Someone had just spit on him, someone had spit on Gadreel, and he merely kept going. Kept walking as if it hadn't just happened, as if his cheek was not covered in someone's saliva.
A small crowd threw stones at him as they marched by. Hard sharp stones that left bruises and patches of irritated red where ever they struck.
Others sneered and jeered at him, threatening him and cursing him. Using words that would make even Michael blush to say.
Someone grabbed at his injured wing, pulling the bone with an audible snap. That was the thing that got them a reaction. Gadreel stopped, inhaled sharply and groaned, Michael prepared for a fight he was sure to come when the younger clutched his fists, but then he kept going.
As if none of this was new.
Gadreel kept walking.
They jeered at him and cursed his name, threw stones and other objects at him, went for his injuries, spit on him and everything they could to make him suffer.
And he never fought back.
He just kept walking.
A week later, they were frantic in the Archs Home, trying to find their injured missing charge. He had turned up missing when Lucifer had gone to check on him, he'd told them he was feeling a bit under the weather and had gone to take a nap, and now they were growing worried.
Michael was growing worried.
He remembered all the threats that had been thrown his way. Remembered finding him being chained and shackled, found him a sobbing mess on his knees locked in a small cage. They had never thought to find out if all his time locked away had affected him mentally too-it was their mistake-among many others.
The eldest Archangel ran down the hall to his rooms, intending on grabbing his sword and diving into Hell to see if he was there, when he froze in his tracks.
Gadreel was curled up in his wings shivering, but resting. He seemed to be exhausted. His wings were still healing, that much was clear, after everything he'd been put through. Despite his cold shoulder and his disgusting treatment of this younger brother, it was his room that Gadreel came to.
Seeing him so small, so vulnerable, made it near impossible for him to move the younger. But it was the least he owed him. After everything he'd put him through.
Gently as he could, Michael knelt before his younger brother brushing his fingers through his recently washed soft hair. Gadreel stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering softly. The older angel cooed softly trying to calm him back to slumber.
"Let's move you to the bed, shall we?"
Gadreel was still too out of it, the latest bit of medicine given to him by Raphael still in grand affect, and he nodded. Michael turned him over gently, pulling him into his chest and up into his arms, Gadreel wrapped his arms loosely around his brothers shoulders and rested gently into the crook of his neck.
He lifted the lighter being gently, and together they both moved to the bed across the way, Michael sat on the edge of the mattress making to set Gadreel down tenderly and tuck him in as any good older brother should.
"Why were you hiding in here, little warrior?"
Gadreel licked at his lips and cuddled down into the blankets wrapped up around his chin.
"Safe here, no one ever come here."
"Oh Gaddy."
Michael brushed his hair back lovingly, "No more of this, this treatment."
Gadreel merely hummed sleepily at the gentle scratching to his head.
"No more."
"From this day on, he shall be known as my charge, under my protection and my jurisdiction. Any who mess with him shall face my judgment."
Gadreel looked down, fingering the pendant with St. Michael's insignia etched in the fine metal, and he smiled.
He smiled.