A/N: Hihi! I'm still alive! How about that? So, we've got some fluff and more angst. Hey, you know that's how I do ;) You'll see some familiar faces here and some will be in unfamiliar places because I have another headcanon about the Princes of Hell that I'm not gonna discuss here. Not spoiling!
Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313/Itsa-me-Mario, Spyrofury767, Diane279, Lyryrenn, monkeygirl77, and Kathy! Thanks so much for reviewing! Unfortunately, you're not getting many answers as far as Eliyon's vessel situation, yet. Just be patient :)
Diane279, never fear! I will never abandon a fic! My updates do get delayed because my life is nuts, but i will always update! And fair-warning, you probably won't read anything of mine that isn't angsty lol
Monkeygirl77, your revenge was effective lol I shall have to retaliate with equal effectiveness ;)
I hope my US readers had a good Thanksgiving!
Enjoy!
A/N: EEP! That chapter was a mess of errors and page breaks Iamsosorry!
A chill wafted against Michael's Grace and he dove out of his bed, drawing his blade and brandishing it in the dim light. His wings flared high as he pulsed his Grace, looking for his enemy.
"Lucifer," his voice was soft, hesitant to speak the name lest he summon his brother to his aerie.
He was alone. However, he shivered from the cold lingering on his Grace.
Lucifer was free.
Michael's first instinct was to call for Raphael and Gabriel but he stifled the reaction quickly. Gabriel would never fight by his side against Lucifer and Raphael…
Michael nearly scoffed at the thought.
After a thousand years, his fallen brother had finally freed himself from Hell. And yet, he found himself wondering if this was actually true. Lucifer was nothing if not cunning. The last thing he would do would be to send his Grace pulsing across Michael's if he wasn't ready for a confrontation. If he was ready for a confrontation, then he had been freed for some time now.
"So, if you have been free, what have you been doing?" Michael mused aloud.
He left his aerie and flew for Father's garden. The last time he'd spoken to Father face-to-face had been during the war with the Darkness and a nervous tremor skated across his feathers at his boldness.
The garden was lush and alive in every sense of the word and shifted its appearance through the force of a mere thought. However, whenever Michael entered it, it retained its original appearance and he was glad for that one constant in his existence. He instantly felt more at ease as he walked between the enormous trees with the mist settling on his wings. He caught the edge of a quiet Grace and strode toward it.
"Joshua."
The Gardener looked up from the flowering shrub he was tending and his expression was one of dismay. "He isn't here, Michael."
"Lucifer is free from Hell and the Cage is not yet complete," Michael told him. "I need to know what He would have me do."
Joshua stood wearily. "Michael, He isn't here."
The words finally registered. "What do you mean? Of course, He's here."
Joshua sighed. "I wish that were so."
Fear bloomed in Michael's core and settled like a stone. His wings began burning along the scars Lucifer left him with. "Where is He?"
"I don't know," Joshua's tone was grieved. "He didn't tell me where he was going."
"You're saying, He's left the garden," Michael insisted.
Joshua shook his head. "No, Michael—"
"No!" Michael's Grace flared, bending the trees over nearly to the ground. "He isn't—He wouldn't!"
"He did," Joshua said sadly.
Michael felt the ground tip beneath his feet. "He's gone?"
Joshua nodded slowly.
"Did—did He say anything? Did He leave instructions for me?" Michael was nearly begging now.
Joshua shook his head. "No."
"What am I supposed to do?" Michael asked in a lost tone.
"I don't know that, either," Joshua told him.
Michael turned and walked away, listening to the sound of Joshua's shears as he snipped the buds. Then, the sound faded and he was nowhere near the entrance. His legs suddenly gave way beneath him and he sank to his knees in the grass. His wings fell quivering to his sides and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, pushing his Grace throughout the whole of existence, desperate to find his Father. "What am I supposed to do?!"
Eliyon sat behind the altar in the Mercy Room, concealed in its shadow. Of course, hiding wasn't really necessary. No one seemed to come in here anymore.
"I don't understand. Why don't I have a vessel?" He felt tears pricking his eyes and he blinked them away in frustration. "Is it because of my Grace?"
"Yes, Eliyon," Father replied patiently, "it is."
Eliyon's wings drooped despondently, remembering each cruel taunt Zachariah had thrown at him as he pulled out feathers.
Your existence is testament to Father's pity. Look at you. You barely have any Grace. You can't fly. You'll never fly, not with wings like that. Your feathers aren't even growing right. You're barely an Angel. You might as well be a Human.
Eliyon pulled one wing around and ran his finger along the serrated edge of his feathers. He remembered when his flight feathers started growing in the first time. Zachariah had taken great pleasure in plucking those.
"Am I broken?"
A gentle warmth suddenly infused his Grace and he sighed, sagging back against the golden altar.
"Eliyon, child, you're not broken," Father assured him. "You are exactly as I meant for you to be."
"You meant for me to be weak?" Eliyon said with a touch of bitterness.
The warmth intensified until it felt like a tight embrace, like being wrapped up in all six of Gabriel's wings.
"Why do you think you are weak?"
"Gabriel said that…the others are like flames, and I'm more like a coal."
"And a coal is weaker than a flame, is it?"
Eliyon cocked his head in confusion. Father sounded…amused. "A coal isn't even fire."
"No?"
"No, it…" Eliyon's Grace lurched within him and tears slid down his cheeks as he hugged his knees to his chest. "Why'd you make me different? Why didn't you make me like everyone else?"
If he hadn't been different, he wouldn't have been hurt by Lucifer's Grace that day and Gabriel wouldn't have found him. If Gabriel never found him, then he wouldn't have become his Caretaker and he wouldn't have been teaching him to fly on the plateau. If Gabriel hadn't been on the plateau, he could have reached Michael sooner and stopped him from getting so horribly hurt.
"Do you truly wish to have never met Gabriel?"
Eliyon shook his head miserably. "No."
"If you were just like everyone else, what would have drawn the two of you together? Do you truly want to go back and undo your friendship with Gabriel?"
For a moment, Eliyon wondered if Father wasn't just asking for the sake of asking and was actually giving him a choice.
"No," he said despairingly. "I just…I don't understand."
"He was grieving, angry and afraid," Father explained. "He loves you, child. From the beginning, all he has wanted is to take care of you."
Eliyon sighed. "I know, it's just…"
"It is difficult to overcome fear," Father told him gently.
Eliyon nodded and his throat clenched painfully. He still found himself nervous around Gabriel, even after the Archangel had saved him from his nightmare, after he'd stayed in the garden for the rest of the night with Eliyon wrapped in his wings so he could sleep. Gabriel kept him in his aerie at night now and when he did have a nightmare, the Archangel was quick to wake him up before it became too horrible.
"What would you prefer to be?"
Eliyon startled a bit at the question. "What do you mean?"
"You dislike how I made you," Father elaborated. "What would you prefer to be?"
Eliyon opened his mouth, yet had no answer to give. "I don't dislike what I am," he said at last. "I just don't like that I'm different."
"Beloved child, what you are, is different," Father replied warmly and fell silent.
Eliyon sighed and wiped his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. He turned to leave but his gaze was drawn to the air twisting in the altar's heat and the mesmerizing patterns held his attention. He gripped the golden rim and stood on the very tips of his toes, trying to see the coals within, trying to see himself. The heat drew him closer and he started to raise a hand and try to capture the shimmering air.
"Careful, little one," a deep voice admonished. "The fire is unforgiving."
Eliyon froze and looked up to see an Angel watching him with serious, dark eyes.
"But it isn't fire," he replied morosely. "It's just coals."
The Angel's wings flared slightly and Eliyon cringed, preparing for a harsh reprimand.
"Why do you say that?"
Eliyon glanced up at him, surprised by the gentle inquiry. The Angel's Grace brushed his, seeking an invitation and Eliyon's responded hesitantly, bracing himself for pain. The Angel's Grace was strong, a warrior's Grace, but he kept the connection courteously light.
"Ah, so you're the one Gabriel took charge of," he said with a comprehending lift of his head.
Eliyon's chin dropped to his chest and he scuffed his shoe against the floor.
"Forgive me," the Angel dropped to a knee and pressed a hand to his chest. "I am Ezekiel."
"I'm Eliyon," Eliyon spoke his name clearly, but there was no hiding the heaviness in his tone.
Ezekiel cocked his head curiously. "Perhaps, it isn't the coals you doubt," he remarked quietly, finally getting a sense of Eliyon's Grace.
Eliyon's wings drooped and tears stung his eyes. "We're supposed to be assigned to a garrison soon," he said. "But…my Grace…I don't even have a vessel because it's so weak."
Ezekiel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Weak, you say? That is not what I have heard."
Eliyon looked up. "What do you mean?"
"You flew the Ether alone," Ezekiel said, "with an injury, no less. You're the fastest Fledgling yet seen, and one of the bravest. Those do not seem like traits of weakness to me."
Eliyon blinked dumbly.
"Gabriel speaks of you often," Ezekiel smiled warmly. "He is very fond of you. As is Michael, and that is not something easily secured. Especially now." He gripped Eliyon's shoulder as the Fledgling's dull gaze dropped to the floor. "Come, let's return you to your Flock."
Ezekiel led him outside and the edges of his feathers shimmered with silver in the sunlight, making the simple brown wings seem regal.
"Why were you in the Mercy Room?" Eliyon asked suddenly.
Ezekiel's shoulders rose and fell in a small sigh. "I go there often to reflect. Father retreated to His garden long ago, but I still feel His presence in the Citadel. Why were you there?"
"To ask Father why He made me different."
"Did He tell you?"
Eliyon sighed heavily. "No."
They paused in the courtyard and the voices of the choir resonated above them. Ezekiel sighed.
"I remember when Lucifer led them," he said. "Ah, that was something to hear."
"You remember?" Eliyon asked in surprise.
"I do. I remember them all as they once were," Ezekiel replied. "The Archangels, even Gadreel."
"Do not speak the traitor's name," another Angel growled, striding into view. His pale eyes flashed angrily and he wore the insignia of a garrison captain on his shoulder.
Eliyon's wings flared angrily.
Gadreel isn't a traitor!
"I do not speak of a traitor," Ezekiel replied coolly. "I speak of a great Angel that once fought shoulder to shoulder with the Archangels and our Father. The young ones should know our histories, even when they end in tragedy, Ishim."
Ishim snorted and turned his glare on Eliyon. "Lower those wings, Fledgling."
Ezekiel stepped forward and pulled Eliyon back against him. Even though his wings remained still, he suddenly exuded a quiet danger.
"Leave the little one be, Ishim," he said. "He is no concern of yours."
Ishim fixed him with a cool look. "Your allowance of undisciplined behavior grows increasingly worrisome, Ezekiel. Should it continue, Michael may decide to remove you from your position."
Ezekiel lifted his chin. "When Michael becomes concerned with my methods, I shall re-evaluate them."
Ishim inclined his head. "I was merely expressing a concern, Ezekiel. I don't want to see you replaced."
"I appreciate your concern, Ishim," Ezekiel replied evenly. He led Eliyon away without another word. "Mind yourself, child," he admonished quietly. "We all have strong feelings regarding Gadreel and his crimes, but it does little good to speak of them."
"He didn't do anything wrong," Eliyon insisted.
Ezekiel sighed. "I would like to think so. However, the evidence remains." He paused outside the entrance to the Fledglings' garden. "You will leave this place before much more time passes."
Eliyon nodded, scuffing the ground with his toes.
"Does that frighten you?"
"A little bit," Eliyon replied quietly. "If I knew what to expect, maybe not so much."
Ezekiel lifted his head in a comprehending nod. "Well, what will happen in the next few days is, you and the rest of your Flock will be assigned a Mentor. After some time in training, you will be assessed and assigned to a Commander accordingly."
"Oh," Eliyon said.
"I see that answer did not comfort you as it should have," Ezekiel said with a faint chuckle. "What do you truly wish to know?"
"What if…what if a Fledgling doesn't belong anywhere?" Eliyon asked apprehensively.
Ezekiel smiled. "There is always a place for us to belong. And for that, I am grateful."
The air swirled around them suddenly and the shadows of six wings fell over them.
"Hey, kiddo! I've been looking for you!" Gabriel landed and folded his wings with a flourish. "Ezekiel," he nodded a greeting.
"Gabriel," Ezekiel replied warmly. "I leave him in your capable hands."
As he flew away, Gabriel clapped a hand onto Eliyon's shoulder. "So, what do you say we head to Earth?"
Eliyon looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. "Sure."
Gabriel grinned and they flew for the gate. Before they passed through, Gabriel stopped and took a firm hold on Eliyon. The Fledgling was strong enough to fly the Ether, but the distance from Heaven to Earth was still too far, in Gabriel's opinion.
"Hold on to me," he warned unnecessarily.
He paused at the sound of wingbeats and they turned to see Michael land behind them.
"Where are you going, Gabriel?" he asked in a low, almost warning tone.
"Earth," Gabriel told him enthusiastically. "Eliyon couldn't find his vessel before, so we're going to look again."
Michael's wings flared and he opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Gabriel fixed him with an obviously patient look. Eliyon could feel a strong sense of unease emanating from the eldest Archangel's Grace.
"Mind yourselves," Michael said at last and his tone wasn't that of an admonishing brother. To Eliyon, he sounded…concerned.
"Is that the same as staying out of trouble?" Gabriel asked cheekily.
Michael turned and left, not deigning to reply.
Gabriel turned back to Eliyon and grinned. "Let's go!" He wrapped his arms around his Fledgling and fell through the Ether, opening his wings just in time to keep from crashing into the ground.
Eliyon looked around curiously at the dark evergreens. "We haven't been here before."
"I know," Gabriel said. "I found this place and I thought you might like it."
"You…found…when did you leave?" Eliyon peered at him in confusion.
Gabriel shrugged as though it was a trivial thing. "A day or so ago. I wanted to see how things were progressing down here."
In truth, he'd left Heaven the day after he'd taken Eliyon, Castiel and Balthazar to Earth. He'd scoured the planet for days, looking for Eliyon's vessel, or even just the person who would be the predecessor to his vessels. He hadn't found either thing.
"Come on," he urged. "I've got lots to show you. Earth is a lot bigger than we thought. There's oceans and forests and deserts—"
"Desert?" Eliyon queried.
Gabriel grinned. "Alright, I know where we're going first."
Michael stood among the forges, absorbing the heat of the fires and the shriek of metal as it was honed. The incessant noise of the boiling ore and the hissing chill of the void melded into a solid drone of sound that was as agonizing to hear as it was comforting. At this rate, all of the Host would be armed soon and three Flocks were ready for training and assessment.
He felt a pang of grief at that thought. Never before had Fledglings been taken from their Flocks and immediately thrust into battle conditioning. However, the burn of his scars only confirmed in his mind that this was the only course of action. The Morningstar would return. The Host would have to be ready.
He left the forges and flew for the gate. The Universe stretched out before him and he watched the vast expanse warily. He expanded his Grace and could feel Gabriel's on Earth, as well as Eliyon's, and his wings relaxed a bit in relief.
"Really, Michael?" Gabriel drawled acerbically. "Don't you have better things to do than watch my every move?"
"If I wanted to watch your every move, little brother, I'd be down there with you," Michael retorted coolly. He suddenly felt Gabriel start withdrawing his Grace, preparing to hide from him. "Do not do that, Gabriel," Michael warned. "I'll come down and drag you back bodily."
Gabriel's Grace rippled in indignation and Michael almost sighed. He felt Gabriel's resignation when he didn't reply and for a moment, he worried his brother would cut himself off out of spite. After all, Michael did throw his favorite older brother into Hell.
"Fine," Gabriel huffed. "But it's going to be a while before we come back."
"Very well," Michael replied evenly. He withdrew his Grace so Gabriel wouldn't feel so invaded but not so much that he couldn't tell where he was. He relaxed his stance and his wings folded easily against his back. However, his at-ease appearance was nothing but a façade. His Grace was trembling, anticipating the familiar chill of Lucifer's presence and it required all of his self-control to not drag Gabriel back to Heaven regardless.
"Gabriel?" Eliyon queried cautiously, seeing the scowl on his face. "What's wrong?"
The Archangel looked at him in surprise. "What? Oh, nothing. It's just Michael."
"Do we need to go back?" Eliyon hoped the answer was no.
"No, he's just…I don't know what he's doing," Gabriel sighed in frustration. "Or why. I wish he'd go back to overseeing the Cage and leave me alone."
"Cage?" Eliyon gave him a startled look.
Gabriel winced at his slip. "Yeah, kiddo. Michael's going to put Lucifer into a Cage. Father's orders."
"But…Michael put Lucifer in Hell," Eliyon said in confusion. "Why does he need to build a Cage?"
"To keep Michael from killing him," Gabriel said bitterly.
Eliyon dropped his gaze to the sand. "Oh." The wind blew the dust across the arid landscape in an almost fluid manner, making it resemble rivulets of water. Nothing else moved and the silence was heavy. "Gabriel, are you alright?" he asked softly.
Gabriel opened his mouth, then paused. He wasn't about to repeat his mistake. He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I haven't been for a long time. A really long time," he added softly.
Eliyon nodded sadly as Gadreel's memories sifted into his thoughts.
—Lucifer showing Gabriel how to hold his wings just right to glide on the warm updrafts. Michael correcting both of their techniques—
—Lucifer hiding Gabriel from Michael when a prank went too far—
—Lucifer rocking Gabriel back to sleep when the fussy Fledgling Archangel awoke in the middle of the night, while Michael stood watch in the doorway, ready to help if he was needed—
—Lucifer cooling Gabriel's fever after the Darkness was locked away, Michael standing guard and hiding his pain behind clenched fists and a stern expression—
"I don't want to be in Zachariah's garrison," Eliyon said suddenly.
Gabriel looked at him surprise, then elation. He almost couldn't remember the last time Eliyon confided a fear in him. Almost.
"I don't blame you," he said. "There isn't a lot I can do about it, though. But if you do, just make sure you always pick him as your sparring partner."
Eliyon looked up with a frown, then at the sight of Gabriel's smirk, he grinned and nodded. Then, he winced.
"What's wrong?" Gabriel's voice was low with concern.
"Nothing," Eliyon assured him as Michael's prodding Grace receded. "I think Michael's worried about us being here."
Gabriel scoffed and looked away. "I'm sure he is."
Eliyon looked down sadly. Michael had always been there. He might not have been as fun to be around, but he was always there, quiet and constant, urging caution and providing protection.
That's the Michael that found me in the garden—that healed my wing.
"Do you think he's sad?" Eliyon asked softly.
Gabriel barked a bitter laugh. "No, I don't. I think he's relieved that Lucifer's gone."
Eliyon was too ashamed to speak his next thought aloud.
Aren't we all, though?
"Come on, lots more to see, kiddo," Gabriel shook off his bitter mood and they took flight once more.
Michael performed his duties from the gate, stretching his Grace throughout Heaven and overseeing the creation of the Cage and the seals. He sent several of his best Angels to Earth to look for Lucifer—
—I should have received a report from Azazel by now—
-and each passing moment that he wasn't found was one of relief and concern. His three-day vigil was beginning to tax him and his wings rustled in agitation. He wanted—needed—to retract his Grace and rest for a moment, but he didn't dare, not with Gabriel on Earth.
A presence pressed against his Grace and Michael looked up as the Grigori Commander approached. "What news, Tamiel?"
"All is quiet, sir," Tamiel replied with a slight bow. "If Lucifer is free, he hasn't revealed himself, yet."
Michael stifled a scoff.
No, he just hasn't announced himself to the Host, yet.
"I want all of your Angels on Earth," he instructed. "I want Father's creations protected from him."
"Of course," Tamiel nodded and practically vanished with a flap of his wings. All of the Grigori were proud of their speed, and Tamiel was no exception.
Michael's wings shifted restlessly, his hands clenched into fists and he was on the verge of summoning Gabriel back to Heaven when he felt his brother's Grace drawing near. His shoulders sagged in relief, though his face betrayed nothing.
Gabriel strolled up to the gate and gave Eliyon a playful push, mussing his dark hair. The Fledgling's eyes were bright with excitement and he shoved back at the Archangel. A sudden warmth blossomed in Michael's core at the sight. Gabriel had tortured himself mercilessly after he'd hurt Eliyon. The rift between them had begun mending the night Eliyon called out from his nightmare. The Fledgling was doing well, undoubtedly due to spending his nights in Gabriel's aerie where his Caretaker could wake him before a nightmare became too terrible. The memory of finding the two of them asleep in the Fledglings' garden, Eliyon wrapped in Gabriel's golden wings, brought other, bittersweet memories to Michael's mind. He hadn't been able to do anything else but turn a blind-eye to Gabriel's disobedience.
"Are every sunrise and sunset different?" Eliyon's voice carried to him.
"Every one of them," Gabriel replied warmly.
"Father certainly had an affinity for the unique," Michael interjected softly.
Eliyon nodded enthusiastically, forgetting to be nervous of the eldest Archangel and missing Gabriel's grimace. "I saw three and they were all different colors!"
"Go on and give Balthazar his surprise," Gabriel urged, trying to maintain his cheerful attitude.
Michael cocked his head suspiciously. "And what surprise is that?"
Eliyon looked up at him, suddenly remembering that Michael was frightening when he was angry, and he'd been very angry when Balthazar's attempt to summon a redbird failed.
"It's…um…I got him a—a dried rose," he said haltingly.
Michael's gaze sharpened and his eyes flicked up to meet Gabriel's. "Really."
"What?" Gabriel threw his arms open disparagingly. "It's dried, so the spell will work properly this time—should work properly this time. Just stay out of the library for a while."
"Amusing," Michael's flat tone was wholly unamused.
"May…May I still give it to him?" Eliyon asked tentatively.
Michael glanced down at the earnest, nervous face before him and nodded. Eliyon took flight without another word, kicking up enough wind to make Michael turn his head away from the draft.
Gabriel's amiable expression soured into resentment. "I'm back now. Are you satisfied?"
Michael shot him a disdainful look. "Leave Eliyon in the garden tonight," he said evenly. "The Flocks will be assigned Mentors tomorrow and he shouldn't be treated any differently than the others. Having you as his Caretaker has already given him a certain prestige."
Gabriel's mouth fell open and his wings twitched in shock. "How did—You knew?"
Michael hesitated just long enough to make him nervous. "There is very little that happens that I am not aware of, Gabriel," he said and a sad smile tugged on one corner of his mouth. "Once, that was a source of comfort for you."
"A lot of things have changed," Gabriel replied shortly and braced for Michael's scathing retort, but it never came. His brother simply looked at him for a moment, a question in his eyes that never reached his mouth, so many emotions flashing across his face that it rendered his expression almost unreadable. The one thing Gabriel was certain of was that somehow, his words had stung Michael.
"You forget, Gabriel, that he was my brother, too," Michael said at last.
Gabriel almost snarled. "Yeah, he's still mine."
Again, a myriad of emotions flickered through Michael's eyes but the most prominent was an odd combination of anger and resignation.
"I see," Michael nodded slowly. "At least, now I know who not to call for."
Gabriel recoiled like he'd been struck. "What is that supposed to mean?!"
Michael scoffed and turned away.
"Hey! What are you saying, Michael?!" Gabriel demanded.
"Spare me your indignation, Gabriel," Michael spat. "All of Heaven knows which of us you would prefer to see victorious."
Gabriel's anger left him in a rush and took the air from his lungs on the way. "Is that what you think?" he asked in horror. "That I'm…Michael, I can't pick between the two of you. You're my brothers!"
"One more so than the other," Michael stated flatly.
"That isn't true!" Gabriel insisted. "Michael, I love you both! You can't, you can't, ask me to pick a side!"
"Oh, but you have chosen a side, little brother," Michael's voice dropped dangerously low. "You've made that abundantly clear." He strode back to where Gabriel stood and Gabriel fought the urge to cringe away from him. "Your neutrality is a farce," Michael bit out each word. "But if you wish to continue to indulge in this self-deception, I won't stop you."
Gabriel's muscles tensed with a sudden need to hide. Michael, already head and shoulders taller, towered over him and for a being who burned as hot as a new star, he was suddenly radiating a bitter cold.
"Your devotion is admirable," Michael went on. "But I guarantee you, he would not return or appreciate it. I would have thought that was made clear to you during our battle when you came between us." He stepped invasively close and as his wings flared, Gabriel's shrank back. "You may have dived beneath my blade, little brother, but I never intended to harm you. To Lucifer, you were nothing but an obstacle, something between him and me, something he was quick to remove."
Gabriel dropped his gaze and let out a shaky breath. He remembered. He remembered it too well.
"He's still my brother," he repeated, a little more plaintively than before.
"Let him rip your wings apart," Michael told him and Gabriel flinched at the venom in his tone, "and we'll see just how strong that sentiment is."
Gabriel didn't look up and his wings drooped to the ground as silent tears slid down his cheeks.
"Michael," he begged, "please. Please, don't make me choose."
Michael cocked his head, his lips pursing in disdain.
"I don't want either of you to win!" Gabriel exclaimed, finally looking up at him. "If you win, Lucifer's dead. If he wins, you're dead! What kind of choice is that?!"
Michael's wrath cooled at the sight of Gabriel tears and his first instinct was to embrace his youngest brother, to protect him from what was harming him. He refrained, knowing Gabriel wouldn't appreciate the gesture.
"Three days," he said quietly and Gabriel looked at him in confusion. "I am glad to see you back."
Gabriel sniffed his tears away. "Where else would I have gone?" he asked, a little bitterly.
"Anywhere else," Michael replied silently, lifting one shoulder in a tiny shrug.
Gabriel was less shocked by the words and more by what was almost a helpless gesture, would have been a helpless gesture, except that Michael wasn't, and never would be, helpless.
"I'll fight, Michael," he said softly. "I'll protect our home. I'll protect our family. But please, please don't make me fight Lucifer."
Michael studied him coolly for a moment, then he nodded. "Fair enough." He turned to leave.
"Hey, Michael?" Gabriel began hesitantly.
"Yes?" Michael turned back.
"Thanks for…you know," Gabriel wasn't sure how thank him for not punishing him for his blatant disobedience.
Michael cocked a curious eyebrow and the expression was so familiar, so unexpected, so…past Michael, that it made Gabriel's chest hurt.
"I left him in the garden," he elaborated, feeling his wings tense nervously. "I did. And I was going to leave him there but…he called out for me and he sounded so scared…I couldn't not go."
Understanding dawned and Michael nodded. "I know."
He took flight. Now that Gabriel was back safely, he could attend to his duties properly. As he flew by the library, he heard a triumphant shout and a little redbird flew out of the window with Balthazar close behind. The Fledgling was covered from head to toe to wingtips in red dust.
"Stay out of the library, indeed," Michael muttered.
He suddenly felt a pulse of Grace and he seized the connection with startling ferocity.
"Azazel! Where have you been?!"
"My apologies, Michael," the Seraphim replied. "I had caught a trace of Lucifer's Grace and I decided to investigate further before notifying you, in the event the trail came to nothing."
"And?" Michael demanded impatiently.
"I found where he had been, but by the time I arrived, he had vanished. Would you like for me to continue searching?"
"Yes."
"Very well, I shall let you know the moment I find something."
Azazel's Grace vanished and Michael pulsed his to the other Seraphim searching for his fallen brother.
"Dagon, Ramiel, Asmodeus, Azazel has picked up Lucifer's trail. Join him in the hunt."
"Yes."
"Of course."
"As you wish."
Michael flew to the highest plateau on the edge of Heaven. For a moment, he allowed his Grace to open fully and relax, the equivalent of a leisurely stretch. Then, he pulled it back, leaving a dozen conjured phantoms in its wake. He drew his blade and took a defensive stance, his eyes flashing as his Grace blazed up and around him. The next time he fought Lucifer, he intended the outcome to be far different.
"Who will our Mentor be, do you think?" Castiel asked with sleepy excitement.
"I don't know," Eliyon said, stretching out on the warm grass. "Who are the Mentors?"
"That's a good question," Castiel frowned thoughtfully. Then, the frown turned into a full scowl when Balthazar's bird landed on his forehead. "Hey! Balthazar, keep your bird over there with you!"
"He's a bird!" Balthazar exclaimed indignantly. "I can't control where he goes!"
"You could try!" Castiel retorted.
Eliyon smiled contentedly at the ensuing argument. Then, worry settled in his chest.
I hope we get the same Mentor.
The following morning, Esme's Flock along with Liel's and another made their way to a part of Heaven the Fledglings had never seen before. Angels stood guard over the buildings and sparred ferociously in arenas, their weapons flashing dully in the dim, gray light. The stars swirled overhead, but were growing steadily fainter as the Fledglings lined up in the large courtyard. Eliyon stood between Castiel and Balthazar and tried to look around without moving his head. Castiel's face was schooled in a stoic expression copied from the mature Angels around them. Balthazar was managing to hold back his pout. He'd had to leave his bird in the garden, though Samandriel had been all too happy to receive a new feathered friend.
Angels emerged from the building ahead of them and two of them moved to stand before the other two Flocks. Eliyon's mouth went dry and he swallowed with difficulty as he watched each Angel lead a Flock away, missing the approach of a third Angel.
"Young ones."
Eliyon snapped around and froze. He didn't want to be reprimanded on his first day. His nervousness gave way to confusion, then cautious pleasure when he recognized the Angel standing before him. The Flock shifted uncertainly. The others hadn't been addressed before their departure.
"I am Ezekiel," the Angel's deep voice carried easily. "You are Fledglings no longer. Today, you begin learning your duties as a warrior of Heaven." He looked over the group and an understanding smile touched his face. "I understand your nervousness. We have all stood in this place. Understand this first: Not one of you is exactly alike. Not all of you will have the same capabilities. This does not make you inept. The standard we all adhere to is honor and obedience to Father's will. Accomplish those things, and you will never know shame."
Eliyon felt the others around him relax, himself included.
"Each of us has different strengths," Ezekiel went on. "It is my duty, and my privilege, to find those strengths." His gaze lingered on Eliyon and he gave a faint nod. "Let us begin."
Okay, so we all know in the SPNverse that demons are made from human souls. The Princes of Hell were among the first and they were phenomenally powerful, but why? Hence, my headcanon: They were originally angels that fell and became human for the sole purpose of following Lucifer :) See? It would have spoiled things.