Holy Mother of Tacos…. Someone please help me not procrastinate. I have 2 multi chaptered stories in need of writing, and here I am doing another drabble... *Shot*

Well, here you go. Angsty angst to help encourage depression and sadness over the amazing, and under appreciated Archangels of Supernatural.

Seriously, these guys rocked. I wish there was more of them!

The title is a saying of my dads.

"Only by falling, and going to the very source of your hurt can it be fixed."

Totally paraphrased it, but oh well.

Only By Falling…

Michael

It is when his brothers leave, physically and mentally, that Michael knew he had done wrong.

He no longer felt the joy bubbling across Heaven, or the stern love that wrapped around their haven. The fledglings and lower Angels hovered from a distant, no longer close to the Archangels. Healing winds grew cold after Gabriel fled, Raphael's hidden guilt seeping from him. Michael could only mourn for the loss of Raphael's compassion.

He had no choice; there hadn't been a way out from his orders. He was a soldier, the Protector of Heaven first- a brother second. Still, he couldn't shake the pain of knowing what he had done to his siblings. His actions broke them. Now when he sat on top of the archways before his Father's throne, he could feel the fragmented pieces around him. Not the presence of three other Graces sitting side by side with his own.

Heaven was still beautiful, perfect, but life had been drained from the paradise. With half of them gone, Heaven was unprotected, weak, and Father had disappeared after commanding Michael to strike down his brother. He would have to make his brethren warriors, not allow softness or doubt into their ranks. He could not allow anymore falling and sharing of Lucifer's fate.

Michael closed his eyes to the one name he tried to keep from his thoughts.

His anger was now buried in grief, something he could not show to the others. He couldn't let them see his guilt or doubt. Or his shame. Gabriel had warned him before all of this, saying that he had seen what would happen. Michael refused to listen, he couldn't listen. After all, he was a soldier first, brother second.

Lucifer

Legends say I lie; people call me Deceiver and Manipulator. My brothers called me a Fool, and my father deemed me Disloyal.

I call myself Naïve.

Naïve for loving Him so much, for trusting Michael to support me, for believing that Gabriel could rescue me, for Raphael when he said he would always listen to my side.

I blame them, the humans. The scum, the immoral. The woman that abandons her child, the father that harms his wife. The sister that verbally harms her siblings, the brothers that kill brothers. The good doer who acts innocent to hide the black smudge marks on their heart. I blame them because they are too much like us. I hate them because I can see my family reflected in them, and it disgusts me. We are holy, we are pure. How can we be compared to them, how could Father make them in His image?

These creatures are the reason I am separated from my home, the reason Michael betrayed me. They are the reason Father no longer loves me.

When I am free of this Cage, nothing, not even my brothers and the entire Garrison can stop me.

Raphael

All he feels is cold.

A cold hand

A cold remorse

A cold, dead compassion

A cold heart…

He used to care for these Angels, for his little brothers and sisters. His hand were the ones to heal them, his words gave them comfort when the weight of their existence would become too much. When Michael would push too hard, he was there to balance him. When Lucifer's anger would shake the Heavens, both he and Gabriel would remind him of where his heart truly lied.

But he couldn't stop Lucifer from standing on his own understanding, denying their Father. He couldn't stop Gabriel's desertion, and he worried constantly that he and Michael would have to hunt him down.

He refused to feel anymore, but anger grew in his heart. The humans led to his brother's fall. The humans were the hole in his story, the gaping maw that devoured and decimated everything he loved.

Raphael's love and healing left him, and instead he invited into his heart loathing and wrath.

Gabriel

I let them down, I let him fall, I let Heaven weep, and I let myself be a coward.

I was the Messenger, I would alert Heaven of the attacks from both outside, and within. I gave news in battle, and I gave hope to those without. But I couldn't warn Michael, and I couldn't give hope to Lucifer. I watched as his wings were melded together with Michael's Grace and he was thrown from the lowest gate of Heaven and into the deepest pit of Hell.

I ran after my world broke, not being able to look eye to eye with my remaining brothers. I let them down, because I wasn't brave. I wasn't a fighter, I wasn't a healer, and I wasn't a comforter. I only spread the news, like one of those Cupids spreading rumors about the next destined lovers.

I wandered for a long time, I kept telling myself I can't go back, I can't fix this. I had no message to deliver; I didn't have a reason to be there. I hated my wings; I hated the reminder that weighed on my back. I hated how my happiness would take a sudden turn to anger, and how the anger could only be taken out on others.

And then I met them.

Pagan, heathen, not holy. I fit right in.

They showed me how to reign in the negative, on how to be a god. They gave me a new purpose.

So I buried the wings, I covered them in lies and half truths until I started to believe my own tricks.

The Archangel Gabriel was gone, the Trickster Loki ruled now.