Childhood
Gabriel adored his older brothers. He knew he had plenty of older brothers and sisters. There was a whole level of Seraphs above him and his three older Cherub brothers, but they were distant. So he clung to Michael, Raphael, and Uriel whenever Father was busy.
"Michael, what's Father doing?" Gabriel would ask. Michael would roll his eyes and smirk to the others every time Gabriel asked (which was often), but then smile fondly down at him.
"Father is busy creating our brothers and sisters." Michael and Raphael would then go practice fighting against each other, both of them determined to become ultimate warriors of Heaven. Uriel was more interested in control than fighting. Gabriel would always watch Michael and Raphael in awe, and he knew he wanted to be as powerful as his brothers when he was bigger.
He would watch their wings, great and gold, bending and snapping and fluttering, great extensions of power and purity and grace. He would pull his light brown wings forward in shame, wonder why he was different. Was he not as good as his brothers? Why didn't he have their beautiful, shining wings?
Michael found him one day crying. Gabriel had been watching one of Michael and Raphael's practices and then flown off in a rush. He was hiding in a secluded corner, belonging to one of the Seraphs. Michael found him huddled underneath his wings, a few feathers around him.
"What is wrong, Little Brother? Why are you crying?" Michael approached Gabriel and touched him gently on the shoulder. Gabriel pulled away from his touch and sniffled, face still hidden behind his brown feathers.
"Father does not think I am powerful like you or Raphael or Uriel," he sniffed. He waited for a response but, hearing nothing, pulled one wing away to peek at Michael. His older brother's face had softened, and he extended his hand to Gabriel's shoulder again. Gabriel let it stay this time.
"Oh, Gabriel, this is not true. How could you say this?" Gabriel sat up, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His wings hung limply at his side.
"You three have beautiful golden wings. And the Seraphs have magnificent white wings. But I have horrible brown wings. He must not think I am special enough to have gold wings. He must not love me as much." Gabriel buried his head into his knees.
"Gabriel, do you really believe this?" Gabriel said nothing, but nodded his head without looking up. Michael then took his chin and forced Gabriel to look at him. "Listen to me. Your wings are more beautiful than any of ours because they are yours. They are special to you. None of us or the Seraphs have multicolored wings. But you… Your wings are brown, yes, but they have tips whiter than the Seraphs, and are marbled with the gold of our brothers and me. You should not think that Father does not love you because of your wings. Your wings symbolize a power we do not understand. Father loves you, and Brother… I love you." Michael pulled Gabriel in and hugged him, while Gabriel buried his head into Michael's chest. He pulled away, smiling.
"Thank you, Brother."
!