You know it's taken me days to write this? 800 words that I struggled to get out. I've been having a slightly rubbish time of it lately which has affected my ability to churn out massive chapters. Sooner or later you will wind up with longer ones though. I promise.

Impression.

The outbreak of civil war comes as no real surprise to Gabriel or Hecate. Without Michael to provide clear leadership, and the introduction of a resurrected Castiel into the mix, friction was completely inevitable. It does not mean that the continued slaughter of his brethren does not hurt some deeply buried part of the archangel.

With the outbreak of fighting in Heaven no small number of Gabriel's brothers and sisters have managed to make it to Earth to hide among the population and this brings to his existence a whole new level of complication. While Lucifer was out of his cage the ranks of the Host were rather tightly controlled and focussed. Now those who have chosen not to side with either party have followed in Gabriel's footsteps by hiding on Earth. They only participate in the fighting where it affects them and Gabriel is under no illusions here: Raphael means to kill each and every one of the defectors where he can.

Castiel, on the other hand, will more than likely let everyone live once he has won the battle to teach his brothers and sisters the meaning of free will.

It is nice to think that someone other than the archangel is aware of the joy of being able to chose one's own path. It is nice to think that this is not a battle that he will have to take any part in. Gabriel is about as far removed from Heaven now as he possibly could be and that is a relief. It still does not change the fact that his brothers are dying again and there is nothing that he can do about it.

"Aren't you ever tempted?" Hecate asks as they lie next to one another in the sand on a quiet island in the Mediterranean. He rolls his head to one side so that he can squint at her through the brilliant sunlight.

"To do what?" He knows what she is referring to, knows what she is asking but he wants her to say the words anyway. Much as he loves her he would not like her to be under any illusions about him. Gabriel does not like emotions, does not like being ruled by them or feeling them, and he dislikes talking about them almost as much.

She sits up and twists to look at him, pushing large dark sunglasses up on top of her head so that she can meet his eyes. Gabriel has seen every inch of her over the course of the centuries he has known her, over the decades that they have been lovers, but he will admit to himself that he likes her best this way, sun kissed in a green bikini.

"Go back up there and help Castiel."

"What gives you the impression that Castiel is the one I would chose to help?" He questions. It is not that he has anything against the resurrected angel, just that he was closer to Raphael before he walked out of Heaven.

"I'm not stupid, Loki," she reminds him, still careful not to address him by his true name when they are not in one of their heavily warded safe houses. "I've never imagined Raphael as the forgive and forget type."

"He's not." Gabriel admits. "This is their war, Hecate. I have no place up there now, we both know that." He relaxes back onto the sand, closing his eyes against the glare she directs towards him. He snaps up a cold cocktail as he lies there, sickly sweet and brightly coloured, a part of his disguise that is so ingrained in him that it is almost like breathing. It has also been a way of hiding in his past.

Unfortunately, Hecate sees right through it. She knows him far to well to let him hide behind a mask that she helped him to create. She turns his head towards her, waiting until he cracks one eye open before opening her mouth to speak. He can see the worry written there, however, and cuts her off.

"I'm here, I've been here for too long to go back. If Castiel wants my help he can find me and ask me for it."

"He doesn't even know you're alive," Hecate points out.

"That's the point," he responds, putting his hands under his head and settling once more on the sand. "Anyone would think you wanted to get rid of me," he challenges after a moment.

"I put too much effort into getting you," she informs him before kissing him. It is a deep, serious, kiss and there is no more talking done for the next several hours.

Artemis