Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable and irrational urge to push people away; the deadening of social taste buds.


Michael stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a roiling grey ocean. He was cold, but he couldn't bring himself to go inside. He wanted to feel it, this numbing chill. The salty breeze stung his skin; he made no move to ease the pain.

The others were gone, off doing things without Michael, as usual. I deserve it, he supposed. Gabriel had joined them. He hadn't expected that.

Raphael's words rang in his ears.

It would do you good, Michael, to remember that I, too, am an archangel, and you will acknowledge that I deserve respect.

But Michael remembered. He remembered the halo of lightning wreathing around Raphael's head, his fingertips crackling with power and his eyes glowing steely grey. He remembered the air charged with electricity, Raphael's mouth set in a firm line. Michael respected him but was never intimidated. Raphael had never scared him.

Until a few days ago. Michael had never, in his entire life, ever seen Raphael that angry. He hadn't seen Raphael looking anything but faintly amused or sarcastic in many years.

To see him enraged, furious, without ever lifting a finger against him or losing control of his grace, that was terrifying. Michael was even more shocked to see him shout at their Father, to hurl those vicious words—I want you to take your mistakes and choke on them—and to see Father just accept it.

Father never allowed Michael to be angry at him. He'd never spoken a word against Father, and yet he was stricter around Michael than any of the others. Even when Lucifer shouted and destroyed things in his frustration, Father only admonished him gently. Father always looked after the others more than Michael. Michael doesn't need comfort, Michael doesn't want it, Michael wants to be left alone, always.

In the absence of Father, Lucifer took up the burden. He saw Michael for who he really was, not who Father wanted him to be. He looked after Michael like he was the older brother, and Michael didn't mind that in the slightest. If it was anyone else, he would be upset at being treated as a fledgling, but Lucifer was different. Lucifer loved him unconditionally. Father just wanted things from him.

Michael let out a long sigh. Even that wasn't true. Lucifer wanted Michael to take his side, manipulating him with his love to convince Michael to rebel. Michael's duty to Heaven was stronger than his love for Lucifer, because his duty was born out of love for his Father.

If there was anyone who he loved more than Lucifer, however misplaced, it was their Father.

He would never forget how Lucifer refused to let Michael bear the Mark. And what did he get for that sacrifice?

Michael cast him into Hell.

Shuddering, Michael rubbed his bare arms, trying to ease his chill. He deserved any maltreatment from his brothers. He had hurt them all enough. It's time to atone for your mistakes.

Or as Raphael put it, Michael mused, time to choke on them.


Raphael came to appreciate Gabriel's company on their daily outings. It was strange at first, and a bit uncomfortable, but he soon realized that Gabriel believed him and Gabriel took his side against Michael. It was comforting to know that two of his brothers backed him up.

He would read to them for long hours, interrupted by good-natured commentary from Gabriel and Lucifer. It got to the level where they would groom his wings while listening, and although Lucifer tried to do it discreetly, Raphael saw him pocket a few feathers.

His steady anger faded to an undercurrent of frustration. His brothers let him vent, something Michael never tolerated. He could never be anything but agreeable about Michael.

Sometimes, he would brush past Michael in the hallway, and the archangel would only lower his eyes and quicken his gait. Raphael felt a glimmer of satisfaction that Michael was nervous to be in the same area as him. The pleasure at seeing the flash of anxiety in Michael's eyes was overwhelming. Raphael had to remind himself several times that this wasn't any better than before. They were still broken.

And it was still God's fault.

No matter. 2/4 family members was good enough for now.

There were still things he wanted to know and people he wanted to confront, but he was happy with what he currently had. He could question Gabriel about the pagans later, shout at Michael in the future.

For now, he was focusing on prying open his vault and freeing the person he'd locked away so long ago.

He didn't want to be Raphael, the Reeducator and Michael's second-in-command.

He wanted to be Raphael, the Healer.


"Stupid doors, stupid feathers caught in the stupid doors," Lucifer was muttering as Chuck walked around the corner. He was tugging the corner of his wing from where it was stuck in his door. He wrenched the limb free with a grunt, midnight feathers dusting the floor. He scooped them up.

"Son," Chuck spoke.

Lucifer didn't look up. "The name's Lucifer. What do you want?"

"I'd like to ask you something," Chuck said. He could see Lucifer's grace churning with barely-contained anger. "In private, please."

Straightening, Lucifer stuffed a handful of feathers into his pocket. "Fine."

Chuck beckoned him to follow, then set off down the hallway. He tried not to think about what snide comments Lucifer might make upon hearing his inquiry. He swung open a door and stepped aside. Lucifer walked by without thanking him.

"What do you want, old man?" Lucifer snapped, crossing his arms. His suspicion in his ice blue eyes was prominent.

"I've been thinking," Chuck began. He swallowed and laced his fingers together. "What am I doing wrong?"

Obviously, Lucifer hadn't expected that. His eyes widened, and a confused expression crossed his face before settling into relaxed defiance. "A lot. I can list it for you if you want."

"No, I mean-" Chuck sighed. "Did I make a mistake, putting the four of you back together? I thought this was the best way to help, but after what Raphael said, I feel like maybe I made the wrong decision. Michael is unhappy, as am I, and I wanted this to be good for everyone, not just the three of you. I'm glad you're getting along, I am, but I don't know how to extend that to Michael."

"Who cares about Michael?" Lucifer scoffed. At Chuck's pleading look, he relented, "look, I don't know. If an all-knowing being doesn't have an answer, who says I will? I'm just a mere archangel, after all."

"Lucifer, please."

"Raphael was right," Lucifer told him. Chuck closed his mouth, surprised. "Some things don't deserve forgiveness. You can't force any of us to forgive you or Michael. What you did to us is on you, and it's inexcusable."

Chuck held his son's gaze for a long while but broke the contact at those words. He breathed out slowly. "What do I do, then? Other than choke on my mistakes and drown in regret as Raphael kindly advised."

"You let us stew," Lucifer suggested. He smiled crookedly. "Don't push anything. Let me work through things with Raph and Gabe, and when they're ready to talk, I'll let ya know." Rubbing his hands together, Lucifer sauntered over to the door. "By the way, this advice doesn't change anything. I don't forgive you. I hate you, in fact, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of fixing what you broke." He arched an eyebrow. "I've made the mistake of letting my opinions hurt my family. Never again. I'm done acting like you."

"But-"

"Pro-tip: learn from your mistakes. Don't forget about them, or else history repeats itself. Take World War I, for instance." Halfway out the door, he added, "and maybe pick up some parenting books. You're a shitty dad." And then he was gone, the faint echo of a chuckle ringing out behind him.

Chuck sighed. As difficult as Lucifer made things, his words were rooted in truth. After a pause, Chuck snapped his fingers. On the table appeared a stack of parenting books. He picked up the first one.

"No-Drama Discipline: The Whole-Brain Way to Calm the Chaos and Nurture Your Child's Developing Mind ".

Well, better start somewhere.

He settled down to read.