A/N: Hihi! So, here we have some aftermath and boy did this chapter get long! I make no apologies :) Yes, I said this chapter holds SOME aftermath. I didn't even know there was going to BE this much aftermath in this chapter! Really, if you think about it, everything that happens after this point is aftermath...Aaannywaays...
Shoutouts to 1Corinthians 1313, PrincessMagic, CrystalVixen93, Saturnmieze and Krislyngera! Thank you guys so much for reviewing! It makes me so happy to read them!
Bytheby, when I picture Michael, I always see young John Winchester. So, if anybody was curious, that's the image I'm using. Could be worse ;)
Enjoy!
Eliyon chased after Gabriel, panic fanning his Grace and dread fueling his wings. He plunged headlong into the Ether and there, he lost sight of Gabriel's golden wings. He floundered, feeling as though he was moving through the ocean again, yet there was no friction against his wings. He felt like he was falling through the void and he panicked, instinctively reaching for Gabriel's Grace.
He found him.
Just like before, everything was sharper to his senses and he could feel Gabriel's pain and grief. Eliyon angled himself in the Archangel's direction, tucked his wings against his back, and fell. Earth suddenly loomed before him and he saw Gabriel dive between his brothers just as Michael brought his blade down on Lucifer. Eliyon's Grace froze within him as the blade carved down Gabriel's chest and in the same instant, Lucifer batted him away viciously.
The Morningstar's cool Grace had turned to murderous ice. Eliyon felt it slam into him and it was nothing like the day the Archangel's anger had reached him through the garden's wards. This was calculated, patient wrath. A desire for blood that would have waited an eternity to taste satisfaction. He felt it seeping into him, icy, insidious tendrils slowly winding around his Grace and suddenly, he realized that Gabriel wasn't moving.
"Gabriel!" he cried as he plummeted to the ground, opening his wings at the last moment to keep from colliding with the earth. His freshly healed injury sparked hot with pain and he fought to maintain his trajectory.
The Archangel didn't even stir. His eyes were closed and he lay on his side with two wings folded awkwardly beneath him, blood running over his face, dripping off the bridge of his nose, his Grace inert. Eliyon gripped his shoulder, connecting them physically while he nudged Gabriel's Grace with his own. Gabriel grasped it dazedly, confused but glad for the connection. Eliyon touched his chest, coating his hands in hot blood.
"Get…out of…here, kiddo," Gabriel said through a weak pulse of Grace.
Michael screamed and his Grace exploded with agony, fear, anger…and betrayal.
Eliyon's mercurial eyes widened in horror at the sight of Lucifer's blade piercing through one of Michael's wings. Then, his horror intensified a thousand-fold when Lucifer twisted the blade and speared it through another.
Wings are precious things, little one.
He could see the tears sliding down the eldest Archangel's cheeks and his own eyes burned to see this atrocity committed.
Michael gripped Lucifer's wrist but he was searching for something else. Eliyon could feel the memories racing through Michael's mind and in the moment of his greatest agony, he was looking for his brother to guard him against the enemy that was killing him. Lucifer's eyes narrowed with contempt and he shoved Michael to the ground. Eliyon had always been afraid of the eldest Archangel, but seeing Michael on his face, broken and bloody, was the most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed.
Please, Michael! Get up!
Lucifer dragged Michael up by his throat and placed his sword against Michael's heart. Dread settled its crushing grip on Eliyon and he sank to one knee, his free hand falling to one of Gabriel's wings, one of his second pair that he always wrapped around him when he was frightened. Michael's right first and second wings hung down his back, still spurting Grace, attached only by sinews and flesh. Lucifer's Grace burned like bitter ice and his eyes were satisfied slits at the sight of his brother at his mercy.
Eliyon couldn't look away from Michael's destroyed wings and suddenly, in his mind, they were golden. Six, golden wings that had only been used to comfort and protect, ripped to bloody shreds. Once Lucifer had finished with Michael, would Gabriel be next?
No! He won't get Gabriel! He can't!
Eliyon regained his feet, his Grace pulsing hot and bright and his wings flaring threateningly.
Suddenly, Michael fought back. He blocked Lucifer's strike and his Grace erupted like an inferno. The Earth split open with terrible crack and Eliyon felt a tremendous heat wash over him.
Then, suddenly, Lucifer was gone and the Earth was sealed, leaving no sign of the rupture. Michael sank to his knees and long seconds passed before Eliyon's Grace began to dwindle from its panicked, protective state.
Then, Michael looked at him. The Archangel had never acknowledged his existence before now and Eliyon could see the unbearable agony in his emerald eyes. Sweat dripped from his black hair, making tracks down his face alongside his dried tears. A breathy, half-mad laugh that sounded like a sigh escaped him suddenly, and an instant later, he collapsed face-first onto the ground. Eliyon could feel his Grace pulsing weakly with exhaustion and, not knowing what else to do, he reached for him, expecting to be violently repelled. Michael's Grace flinched away from the contact but he lacked the strength to do more. Eliyon didn't press any farther but he kept his Grace within reach, just so Michael would know he wasn't alone. That had been the worst part for Eliyon, the day his Grace was collapsing in the garden, knowing he was alone.
Suddenly, the wind churned around them and Raphael landed in a flurry of gray feathers.
"Michael!" he called his brother's name, horror tinting his deep voice.
Eliyon's Grace pulsed resentfully.
Where were you when he needed you?
"Can you stand?" Raphael asked him.
Michael managed to move his left arm, but that was all.
Gabriel's eyes opened slowly and he rolled onto his side with a groan. "Michael?" he called weakly, haunted by the sound of his brother's screams. "Raphael, is he alive?" His face was pale, his chest burned fiercely and he wasn't sure he even had the strength to get up, but he had to know.
"Yes," Raphael replied gruffly. "Help me get him up."
Gabriel nodded once and forced himself onto his front, grinding his teeth in agony. He had to crawl a few steps before he could stand, then he staggered to Michael's side. The sight of his brother's mangled wings made him want to cry and retch and he stood there, frozen with horror.
"Gabriel!" Raphael said sharply.
Gabriel jerked out of his stupor and knelt down to take Michael's left arm while Raphael gripped his right. Michael groaned at the contact, then as they stood with him between them, he screeched in pain, his once clear, true voice chiming out in harsh bursts. As Raphael adjusted his grip so that he could stabilize the wounded wings, Michael's eyes went wide and his knees buckled as he sucked in a ragged gasp that would have become a scream if he'd had the strength.
Gabriel cast a worried look at Eliyon, not wanting to leave him.
"I'll be alright," Eliyon assured him with a pulse of Grace. "Don't worry about me."
Gabriel nodded. "I'll be right back. I promise."
He and Raphael took off with Michael and Eliyon watched them leave. Suddenly, the air felt empty, as though all life had been burned out of it. In a way, that was exactly what had happened. He looked around at what used to be miles of jungle, green and lush and teeming with life. Now, the ground was scorched to sand and he could feel the residual effects of the Archangels' wrath infused into the earth, spreading slowly like a blood stain. The land would never heal from this wound.
Michael struggled weakly in his brothers' grip, his jaw clenched in pain, determined not to cry out and failing in the endeavor. They dragged him to a surgical table and Gabriel released his hold. Raphael maneuvered Michael face down onto the sterile surface, expertly stilling his brother's agonized, jerking movements. Without a word, Gabriel fastened the restraints on Michael's wrists, ankles and across his neck and lower back and pinned his good wings down.
Michael gasped at the contact, memory telling him what was soon to come.
"Rapha-el," he ground out through gritted teeth, his hands clenching and unclenching against the pain.
Raphael glanced up at Gabriel and the youngest Archangel nodded sharply. He and Raphael had danced to this song before and no words were needed. Raphael cut away Michael's garments, peeling the bloody fabric away from his wounds. Michael jerked involuntarily against the restraints and Gabriel brought a bowl of warm water to Raphael, bracing himself for what was coming.
Jagged spears of bone were twisted up through the bases of Michael's wings and Raphael poured the water over the wounds so he could assess the full extent of the damage. Michael choked on a scream and groaned, trying to hold still so his brother could work quickly. As the blood rinsed away, Gabriel's throat closed at the sight of the scars on Michael's back from another battle so many eons ago. Though the wounds had healed cleanly, it was so easy to see how horrific they had been, even if Gabriel hadn't been there.
The long furrows across Michael's back. The deep punctures and rips in the flesh at the bases of his wings, and beneath the bloody, white feathers, on his wings.
Gabriel flung yet another of the black, oozing creatures into the vacuum of Purgatory.
"You just had to decide to eat everything, didn't you?" he said acidly as it clung to the edge of the hole. He promptly drove his sword into its face. The Leviathan screeched and let go, falling into its cage. Gabriel turned and flapped his wings threateningly, his amber eyes flashing with wrath. Another dove for his throat and he skewered it through its neck, raking it off into the hole with his boot.
"Gabriel?!" Michael's voice rang with concern.
"I'm fine!" Gabriel yelled over the roaring and screeching.
He missed the next Leviathan as it dove for his back, fangs first.
Lucifer slammed into the creature, burying his hand in the black ooze and stabbing clear through its head, pinning it to the ground. Gabriel spun around, a heartbeat too late.
"You'll understand if I disagree," Lucifer remarked dryly as the Leviathan hissed wrathfully. Gabriel chopped its head off and Lucifer hurled both pieces into the vacuum.
They stood back to back for a moment, surveying the battleground. They had tracked the Leviathans to a thick forest and visibility was severely limited. While they could sense the creatures, there was so much residual ooze now that it was difficult to tell when they were coming.
Lucifer moved away, blade held defensively, watching the trees and underbrush. Michael met him halfway, looking in the opposite direction.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
"No," Lucifer replied. "You?"
"No," Michael said, shaking his head even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Is that all of them? Or are they regrouping?" Raphael called his question.
Michael pulsed his Grace through the trees and was met with a violent, ravenous hunger. "No, it isn't over yet," he warned.
"We've locked up hundreds of them!" Gabriel exclaimed. "How many did Father make?!"
"Too many," Lucifer commented darkly. He and Michael were still turning a slow circle and he caught a flash of dull silver on his brother's side. "You are wounded," he said in an accusing tone.
"It barely counts as a cut," Michael retorted. "But while we're on the subject, would you like to talk about your leg?"
Lucifer curled his lip into a snarl and cursed under his breath. "It's nothing."
"Let's leave it at that then, shall we?" Michael suggested blandly.
Blackness exploded from between the trees, fangs filled their vision as unholy screeches filled their ears. The Archangels fought until they had the majority of the creatures caught in their midst, then flared their Graces, white and hot, enveloping the trees and forcing the Leviathans into their prison. When the light faded, they saw several gathering themselves for another attack. The ground was scored with claw marks from where the beasts had stopped themselves from sliding into Purgatory.
"These are stronger," Michael warned.
"Great," Gabriel muttered.
The Leviathans hissed wetly and the Archangels realized they were laughing. They were still laughing when they launched themselves at the Heavenly warriors. They stabbed and slashed and flared at the beasts, trying to force them into the hole. Black slime stained their wings and talons ripped silver slashes across their bodies.
None of them sensed the massive, black beast lurking between the trees, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Michael lunged forward, skewering one the few remaining creatures and shoving it through the hole with a hot pulse of Grace, his foot coming down hard in a black puddle, splashing ooze up his leg. Then, suddenly, the puddle wasn't a puddle and a Leviathan wrapped itself around his calf with a triumphant hiss. He twisted to hack its head off and flung it into its cage.
The Beast charged, hurling itself at the eldest Archangel as a shapeless mass, slamming into his side. The Leviathan wrapped itself around Michael's torso with terrifying speed and before he could raise his blade to stab it, it ensnared both of his arms and clung to his wings like pitch while another portion of it snaked up and wrapped around his throat, crushing his voice. Then, part of the black ooze took shape and became an arm and talons that raked across Michael's back. Michael cried out in pain as the claws gouged through flesh and muscle, digging in deep to anchor the Beast. A head reared up out of the mass, an impossibly wide mouth spilling a gleeful screech as it buried fangs into the base of his middle, right wing.
Michael screamed in agony, desperate terror fueling his Grace as he tried to throw the Beast off but it only bit deeper, rending muscles and snapping bones with wet cracks. Michael staggered and fell, landing on the Beast and driving its fangs even deeper into him. For the briefest second, it released him, only to attack his top wing even more viciously. Heaven and Earth rang with his pealing screams as the Leviathan ripped and chewed and snatched, tearing through his wing…tearing it out.
Then, suddenly, Lucifer was there, his Grace flaring bitter cold with his wrath. He seized the Leviathan and Michael shrieked as Lucifer ripped the monster off of his brother, the fangs pulling free with a sickening, wet sound. The Beast laughed in his murderous grip, flesh and feathers hanging from its mouth. Michael's left wings flapped desperately, weakly, as he tried to drag himself away with his good arm. Lucifer drove his blade through the Leviathan's head and the Beast experienced the fullest extent of the Morningstar's wrath. Blue-white light filled it, enveloped it. Then, as it subsided, the Leviathan hung limp in Lucifer's grasp, a smoking, twitching, reeking mass of black that he hurled vengefully into the hole.
"Seal it!" he barked and Gabriel and Raphael rushed to close the opening.
Michael was still trying to move, his shredded voice chiming harshly with pain and panic.
Lucifer dropped his blade and fell to his knees beside him. "Michael!" his voice was low with horror.
"Luc—" Michael sounded close to retching and his fingers dug into the stained dirt.
Lucifer gripped his shoulder and Michael groaned sharply. "Hold still, Brother," Lucifer instructed.
Michael let out a shuddering moan and pressed his forehead into the ground. "Lucifer!" he gasped pleadingly, almost whimpering.
Lucifer pulled Michael up against his chest and his heart seized when his brother cried out at the movement. Agony etched harsh lines in his face and clouded his piercing, emerald eyes. Lucifer held him, pressing his cheek into his shoulder with one hand while holding him immobile with the other on his back. Bright silver Grace poured from the jagged gashes in his back and wings and Lucifer felt him trembling, a deep shudder that emanated from the very center of his being. Michael's breathing came in short, panicked gasps and he clutched pleadingly at Lucifer's clothes.
Lucifer wrapped Michael in his Grace and his brother moaned hoarsely as the chill soothed the unquenchable fire burning across his back and wings.
Gabriel stood by Raphael's side, handing him bandages and salves before he could even ask for them. His Grace swelled with grief until he thought he was either going to burst or implode. Michael groaned and jerked in the restraints, breathing hard and cursing in Enochian. He bit the inside of his jaw until it bled to keep from calling out for the one person who could ease his pain. The Rit Zien assisted in silence, cleaning the area around the wounds so that the bones could be put back together. Last time, Lucifer had snarled them away. Last time, there had been three of them to put their brother back together.
Without a word, Raphael gripped the middle wing with both, bloodied hands and torqued it violently, twisting bones back together and back inside the flesh. Michael's scream was loud and shrill and even the Rit Zien winced at the sound. Then, it was over and Raphael bound the wing to keep it immobile and Michael fell limp, his eyes wide and lost. Gabriel touched his arm and tried to push some of the pain out with his Grace, knowing that it would never be enough.
This was Lucifer's parting gift to Michael.
The top wing went back together more quickly, having not endured the same horrible wrenching that the middle one had and soon, Gabriel was unfastening the restraints. Michael didn't move beyond breathing, his strength utterly spent. Raphael turned away to wash the Grace from his hands and the Rit Zien gathered up what was left of the bandages.
Gabriel gingerly lifted Michael's head and pressed a cup of water to his bloody lips. "Here, Michael, drink something, it'll help."
"N-no," Michael protested weakly, barely conscious.
"Yes," Gabriel insisted. "It'll help."
Michael forced his eyes open and accepted the water with painful, halting swallows. Then, he just laid there, breathing hard as though just that small action had nearly been beyond him.
"Is it done?" he asked hoarsely.
Gabriel nodded, his heart breaking farther at the haunted look in Michael's eyes. "As soon as you can move, we'll take you to your aerie."
Michael barely managed a nod. "The…Fledgling…" he ground out weakly.
Gabriel's heart stuttered. For a moment, he'd forgotten about Eliyon. "I had to take care of you first," he said.
"Let me see you," Raphael ordered and turned Gabriel to face him. The gash across his chest was deep and still seeping silver Grace, though not as badly as before.
"I'm fine," Gabriel said tonelessly. "I need to get Eliyon." He left the room without another word.
Eliyon felt an odd presence pulse across his Grace. At first, anxiety pulsed through him but then he realized that the presence held no malice and went to investigate. The dead ground became lush again and his wing ached dully as he flew, preventing him from even getting level with the treetops. Just as he was about to give up, he saw them. Dropping to a ridge, he watched the two figures walking away from a barrier of the largest trees he had ever seen. He stared after them and a small voice in the back of his mind supplied the name Humans.
They looked so sad, he could feel it resonating against his Grace but not connecting with it like an Angel's would have.
The Voice supplied the word Soul.
Squinting tiredly, he could see it—their souls. A light nestled within their bodies that was brighter than any Angel's Grace and infinitely stronger. However, something seemed…wrong. The souls seemed damaged, he could feel a keening pain emanating from them. Even still, the light was beautiful.
This was what Lucifer had hated so much?
From somewhere beyond those impenetrable trees, he felt an unfamiliar Grace and terrible pain speared through him. Pain and grief and shame and—
"Please, Father…forgive me!"
"Eliyon?"
The Fledgling felt Gabriel's call and pulsed his Grace in reply. An instant later, the Archangel landed beside him.
"Why are they like that?" Eliyon asked, pointing toward the Humans.
"Why are they like what?" Gabriel asked in tired confusion.
"What's a Soul?" Eliyon said the word slowly, as though afraid to mispronounce it.
"It's what Humans have," Gabriel tried to explain. "Father made Angel's with Grace and he made Humans with souls. I'm not really sure why."
"Who's in the Garden?" Eliyon asked, drawing Gabriel's attention to the trees.
Gabriel wearily pulsed his Grace and nearly reeled with the pain pouring out of Gadreel.
"Gadreel, this wasn't your fault," he tried to tell him. "When Lucifer sets out to destroy something, nothing stands a chance. Unless, you're Father."
Or a Leviathan.
"Is Michael…is…he…?" Eliyon wasn't sure what to ask.
"His wings will heal," Gabriel told him. "He'll live."
More or less.
"Come on, let's go home," Gabriel urged gently.
Eliyon nodded and Gabriel picked him with a soft groan and flew back through the Ether, not stopping until he reached his aerie. He spied Raphael leaving Michael's and sighed with relief that maybe his brother could get some rest.
Yeah, like there is anything Raphael could give him that would dull that pain enough to actually let him rest.
Gabriel closed the door and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. His amber eyes dull and dark with grief and pain. He looked up to see Eliyon watching him closely, his brow furrowed with the suffering he felt through the Archangel's Grace, Gabriel's and Michael's.
"Did you get hurt, kiddo?"
Eliyon looked into Gabriel's exhausted eyes, his shattered gaze, and shook his head, pushing the ache in his wing to the back of his mind.
"Guess that's something," Gabriel muttered and his voice broke.
Eliyon wrapped his arms around Gabriel's neck and the Archangel's six wings enveloped them both as tears streamed down his face.
"I never thought…never thought he actually hated Michael," he whispered brokenly. "But…that's the only thing that…makes sense…He'd rip his wings up like that—just like that! He was the only one who could fix it last time. The three of us put him back together!"
Eliyon drew back slightly in shocked fear.
This happened before?!
Gabriel sniffed hard. "See, kiddo, there are these things called Leviathans…"
Eliyon sat pressed against Gabriel's side in the dark. The Archangel had fallen asleep on the floor after he'd finished the story.
Leviathans. Creatures that even the Archangel's couldn't kill but could kill an Archangel.
Lucifer had saved Michael and fixed his wings…the same wings he'd ripped apart hours ago.
Lucifer fixed my wings too…fixed them with his Grace the same way he did Michael's…
He fidgeted with the feathers of one wing and thought, with a certainty born of grief, that he could still feel that powerful, invigorating chill.
His eyes widened suddenly. He could still feel it! Quickly, yet gently, he disentangled himself from Gabriel's arm and wings and left the aerie. For a moment, he considered asking Balthazar for help. His friend had a well-earned reputation for being sneaky. He shook his head, discarding the idea. If he was caught, he wanted to be the only one punished. Besides, he was faster than Balthazar and he suspected that the Angels would be watching for someone sneaking around. He raced through Heaven until he reached the choir, their voices raised in mourning. He didn't stop, grabbing a resonance stone as he flew by. He wasn't stealing it. He'd bring it back once he was finished.
I need to go somewhere no one will notice me…
The Mercy Room.
He flew for the Citadel and slid to a stop just inside the doorway, not wanting to be disrespectful but needing to hurry, as well. He clenched his teeth and plucked one of his flight feathers. They were the biggest, so he reasoned they would hold more of Lucifer's Grace. Then, he froze as he realized he had no idea how to draw the Grace from his feather. He knew the library probably had the information he needed but he didn't have time to hunt for the right book. A book he might not even be able to read.
He frowned at the feather, concentrating until he could feel his Grace beneath Lucifer's, warmth beneath the ice. Then, with an effort that was actually painful to exert, he slowly began to separate the two. The lingering residue of Lucifer's Grace wafted up like steam and Eliyon cupped his hand over it to keep it from escaping and hissed through his teeth as the cold bit into his palm. By the time he had it all, his hand was burning. He dropped his feather and, hoping his idea would work, pressed the resonance stone into his palm. The crystal absorbed the blue-white light eagerly, almost as though it remembered what it felt like to reverberate with the Morningstar's powerful voice.
He tucked the feather into his belt and turned to leave, pausing when he heard a low voice coming from the far side of the altar. Moving quietly and cautiously, he approached the sound, feeling a profound grief pressing against his Grace and he knew who it was before he saw him.
Gadreel knelt by the altar, his forehead pressed against the golden rim, his lips moving in a fervent, almost silent prayer. Slowly, he raised his head and his shimmering eyes found Eliyon in the half-light of the lamps.
"What do you need, little one?" he asked gently, his voice rough with tears.
Eliyon shook his head. "Nothing," he said quietly.
Gadreel nodded slowly and his gaze fell on the smoldering coals.
Something resonated with Eliyon's Grace. "I don't think Father is angry with you," he said softly, sad for the warrior's grief and fear.
Gadreel closed his eyes painfully. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly. "My only hope is that, perhaps one day, he will be able to forgive me. Go back, little one, before you are missed."
Eliyon nodded and left, but not for Gabriel's aerie. He landed on the edge of one of the massive arches that allowed light and air into Michael's aerie. Gabriel's aerie had similar arches but they weren't nearly as large. Raphael sat by Michael's bedside, keeping watch over his brother. Eliyon could feel the protective wrath simmering in the dark Archangel's Grace and he swallowed nervously. If Raphael caught him and found out what he meant to do, he'd never allow it. How could he? What could possibly make him tolerate even a residual presence of his Fallen brother?
But Michael needs this…
He flared his wings, preparing to fly.
I'll have to be quick…
Suddenly, Raphael stood and walked to the end of the bed, needing space to stretch his tired wings.
Eliyon darted into the room faster than a blink and went to the decanter of water on the table by the bed. Even in his sleep, Michael's face was drawn with pain and he could see the bindings on his wings to keep them from moving. The memory of those injuries pierced Eliyon deeply and he frowned, focusing on his task. Concealing the glow of the crystal with his hands, he upended it and willed the Grace into the water. Slowly, the smoky light slid into the container. Too slowly.
Raphael's wings reached the full extent of their stretch.
The last smidgeon of Grace left the crystal.
Eliyon whirled and dashed out of the room just as Raphael turned around and resumed his seat. Breathing hard from his panic, he flew back to the choir, deposited the crystal unnoticed and flew back to Gabriel's aerie. The Archangel was still sleeping and Eliyon curled up against him again. Then, beyond exhausted, his wing pulsing with sharp pain, he fell asleep with his fingers twined in Gabriel's feathers.
Michael awoke, gasping and feverish and instinctively reached for the water by his bed. White-hot fire seared across his back with the movement and he hissed in pain.
"Stay still," Raphael told him, touching his shoulder to steady him.
Michael blinked in pained confusion, trying to breathe through the heat burning through his chest and back.
Raphael…? No, that's…where is…?
He shut his eyes in a wince as heat pulsed through him again with a vengeance.
No, that's wrong. Everything is wrong.
Raphael poured some of the water into a basin, wet a cloth and placed it on Michael's forehead, the cool liquid warming almost instantly against his hot skin. Then, he poured a cupful and held it to his brother's dry, cracked lips. Michael sipped it eagerly, the chill soothing his ravaged, swollen throat.
Then, the chill spread to other parts of him. Relief flooded him as the fire was smothered by the cold and the unexpected sensation was so familiar that it brought tears to his eyes and he almost started sobbing.
Raphael took the cup away and he reached for it weakly, desperately. Then, it was back and the cold liquid pressed against his lips and he opened his mouth to gulp it down, yet wanted to savor it, afraid that there wasn't ever going to be more.
"Slowly, Michael," Raphael instructed patiently, pulling the cup back. He wiped his brother's cheek dry where some of the water had escaped. Michael's pained gaze was fixed on the cup.
No, you don't understand…you don't understand! That isn't just water, Raphael!
"You must drink it slowly."
Michael nodded weakly, agreeing because it was the only way he'd get the water back, the only way he'd feel that soothing cold. By the third cupful, his burning, damaged Grace was enveloped in a sheet of ice that seemed to melt and melt, turning into chilled rivulets that spread to the very edge of his being, yet never disappeared. His breaths came easier and he relaxed into his pillows, almost positive that the edges of his feathers were frosted over.
Thank you…
Raphael re-wet the cloth and placed on his forehead again. He could even feel the chill from that seeping into him, calming the pain piercing him mercilessly behind his eyes. He drifted off to sleep, his side rising and falling in a deep, easy rhythm and Raphael sighed with relief.
Neither Angel noticed the bronze feather lying quietly on the floor.