A/N: Hihi! So, we're back with Eliyon and the gang. We're leading up to some big events. It may not look like it, but it's true.

Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313, Spyrofury767, PrincessMagic, UsedToBeSomething.279 and nafoloHrepuS! Thanks so much for the reviews! And welcome, new readers!

Enjoy!

Michael watched the flocks sparring in the arena and found himself being constantly drawn back to Ezekiel's. The older Angel's methods were…somewhat unconventional, but he consistently produced some of the best warriors Heaven had, so Michael was obliged to tolerate it. However, on this particular day, Ezekiel was noticeably absent. Castiel and Balthazar sparred together under the watchful eye of Anna, one of Ezekiel's Graduates and the black-winged Fledgling's movements were almost too fast for the eye to follow. Balthazar, though slower, showed a level of deviousness in his technique, though Michael expected nothing less. Though he never actually resorted to dirty tactics, he did catch Castiel by surprise more than once and won his share of the matches.

As Michael watched, this match turned out to be such a one. Balthazar rolled Castiel in the dust and stood, holding both blades up in triumph. Then, he helped Castiel to his feet and returned his weapon. Michael nodded approvingly at that.

"Eliyon," Ezekiel called and the bronze-winged Graduate stepped into the arena. Ezekiel stepped back and the spar began.

Eliyon and Balthazar circled each other slowly, constantly adjusting themselves, preparing for the other to strike at familiar weaknesses. Balthazar dove forward first. Eliyon blocked his two strikes without retreating and Balthazar stepped back, blade up and ready.

A flash of gold caught Michael's eye and he saw Gabriel land on the upper level of the arena, several feet away. Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Michael and he drifted over.

"I thought you were inspecting the other Flocks," Gabriel told him.

"I was," Michael replied. "Ezekiel's have always been the more impressive." He nodded at the combatants.

Gabriel grinned proudly. "You should have been here last week. Zachariah ended up with a mouth full of dust."

Michael fought the urge to smile. "And how did that come about?"

"Ezekiel was at a Garrison meeting and he'd left Anna in charge," Gabriel began. "Zachariah showed up while Eliyon and Castiel were sparring and made some remark about the two of them not being ready for Graduate status. He challenged them, really."

Michael's lips pursed into a tight line of disapproval. While he could see the zeal behind Zachariah's actions, the Angel had already established a precedent where Eliyon was concerned.

"He was all insults and sneering," Gabriel continued. "And Anna offered to let him test them, whichever one he wanted."

"He chose Eliyon," Michael interjected knowingly.

Gabriel's grin couldn't have gotten any bigger. "He picked Eliyon. The fight didn't last three rounds and Eliyon had him in the dirt. Ah, Michael, it was glorious."

Michael actually chuckled. "I can imagine."

The two Fledglings were fighting in earnest now, kicking up dust as they lunged and twisted away from each other. Their wings were flared aggressively when they took a few steps back, blades held defensively. Then, they both lunged forward. Neither gave ground before the other and they traded blows and grappled, trying to overpower each other. Eliyon swung a high overhand, then, when Balthazar blocked the strike, he practically vaulted off the blade—

Michael leaned forward in surprise.

—and spun with a barely perceptible flap of a wing, bringing his blade to bear on Balthazar's side.

Balthazar felt Eliyon's blade bite into his side just as the movement registered in his mind. He screamed in agony and dropped to his knees, clutching the deep gash, hot Grace spilling over his fingers.

"Balthazar!" Eliyon's voice was a shriek of panic. He dropped his blade and fell to his knees beside his friend. He wrapped his arms around him, supporting him against his chest. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't—I thought—" He'd never seen Balthazar look so afraid. He pressed a hand to the wound, trying to heal the damage and Balthazar screeched in pain. "I didn't mean to!" Eliyon cried, tears burning in his eyes. "EZEKIEL!"

"I have him, Eliyon," Ezekiel told him, his deep voice firm and steadying. He took Balthazar and laid him down to see the wound more clearly. His serious expression turned grave when he saw the depth of the injury. He gripped the wound tightly and Balthazar chimed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry, Balthazar," Eliyon was still trying to heal his friend, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he realized how pathetic it sounded, as though saying he was sorry would ever be good enough for he'd done.

Balthazar gripped his hand, tears slipping into his hair. "Don't…leave," he begged weakly.

"I won't," Eliyon gripped his hand tightly. "I won't leave. I promise."

"How bad is it?" Gabriel asked, kneeling next to the wounded Fledgling. "Everything is going to be fine, kiddo," he told Eliyon, brushing his Grace comfortingly.

"No it isn't! What if he dies?!" Eliyon's Grace sparked with panic.

"He won't," Gabriel promised him. "We won't let him."

"The wound is deep," Ezekiel told Gabriel. "I've healed a good deal of it."

"Let me see what I can do," Gabriel shifted closer and put a hand on Balthazar's chest. "You're going to be fine," he assured him. "Sit him up," he instructed Eliyon.

Balthazar hissed in pain as Eliyon moved him and hugged him close. He could feel his friend's rapid, shallow breathing.

"Gabriel," Eliyon begged the Archangel.

Gabriel didn't reply but slowly, the wound stopped gushing Grace and knit closed. Balthazar's breathing steadied and he sagged in Eliyon's arms

"He'll need some time in the infirmary to completely recover," Ezekiel said. "But he will live."

"I'll take him," Eliyon said in a small voice. However, the look he gave Ezekiel made it clear that it was a request, a plea even.

Ezekiel nodded and Eliyon stood with his friend and flew him back to the barracks.

"Ezekiel," Michael's Grace commanded the Angel's attention. "When you have finished drilling the Flock, come to my aerie. We must talk."

Ezekiel looked up to where the eldest Archangel stood, watching the entire event. "Of course."

Gabriel flew back to where Michael stood leaning on the railing, looking entirely unperturbed. "Thanks for your help," he said bitingly.

"You shouldn't have interfered," Michael informed him.

"He was hurt!" Gabriel exclaimed hotly. "And you just stood there!"

"If you would not interfere for them all, then do not interfere for those few," Michael told him coolly. "Not even Eliyon."

Gabriel's Grace flared angrily. "It was an accident, Michael."

"I know that," Michael said, his tone more reassuring than commanding. "Such things are inevitable. Did you see what happened?"

"I was standing right beside you," Gabriel replied pithily.

"Yes, but did you see?" Michael insisted.

Gabriel felt like a Fledgling again, under his brother's tutelage and missing an obvious, but vitally important fact. "What did you see?"

Eliyon flew to the infirmary and laid Balthazar gently on a bed. The room was empty except for a few Graduates from the other Flocks, all nursing sprains, and similar injuries. None of them had nearly died.

"Balthazar, I'm so sorry," he whispered, tucking his friend's wings comfortably on the bed. "I'll be right back. I promise."

He flew for the Fledglings' garden. The wards offered light resistance since he was now mostly matured, but it was only a warning and he expected the feeling of blades scraping over him. He smiled at the sight of the Fledglings playing but he was looking for one in particular. A flash of bright orange and yellow caught his eye and headed for a small group just as they finished a game of tag.

Samandriel rolled in the grass, laughing after a particularly hard tackle had sent him and his pursuer sprawling and resulted in a round of roughhousing. Then, he felt a familiar Grace and leaped to his feet. "Eliyon!"

Eliyon dropped to his knees and caught the youngster in a hug. "How are you?"

"Tired," Samandriel giggled. "They always chase me first."

"That's because you're so bright," Eliyon smiled. He ran a gentle hand over the Fledgling's wings, checking for damage and obstructions. They were still so downy but he had true feathers growing in. No flight feathers yet.

"You look sad," Samandriel commented with a frown.

Eliyon took a deep breath. "Balthazar was hurt today," he said slowly. "It was my fault. He'll be alright but…I need your help."

Samandriel pulled away. "I know what will make him feel better," he announced and rushed to his nest.

Eliyon smiled sadly, glad that Samandriel was still too young to understand that some wounds didn't heal, that not everything could be cured with a lullaby and a Caretaker's kiss.

"Here!" Samandriel came running back, the red bird clutched in his hands. "He likes these seeds best." He handed Eliyon the bird and a pouch full of seeds. "But not too many because they make him too fat to fly."

Eliyon laughed softly at the bird's roly-poly body. "I can see that. Thank you, Samandriel. This is will be the perfect thing." He'd come to ask for the bird, but he hadn't expected the Fledgling to give it up so easily. "I'll come back soon."

Samandriel hugged his knees, the only place he could reach while Eliyon was standing. "Tell Balth'zar I miss him. Stories aren't so fun anymore."

"I'll tell him," Eliyon promised.

When he returned to the infirmary, it was empty except for his unconscious friend. He set the bird on the pillow by his head and gave it a pinch of seed. As it ate, it let out the sweetest trill and sank into a soft melody. Eliyon laughed softly when he recognized Samandriel's favorite lullaby. Despite Balthazar's disparaging opinion of such things, the pained lines in his face faded at the sound and his breathing evened as he fell more deeply asleep.

Eliyon sat on the bed next to him and threaded his fingers anxiously. "Samandriel misses you," he began softly. "He said that the stories weren't as fun to listen to since you aren't there…"

Ezekiel stepped into the sitting area of Michael's aerie and bowed slightly. "Michael. Gabriel," he greeted them respectfully.

Michael nodded. "Sit."

Ezekiel took a chair. "I imagine this is about today."

"It is," Michael confirmed, pouring the three of them a drink. "How is Balthazar?"

"He will recover," Ezekiel replied, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. "Eliyon though, I am not so sure."

Gabriel's expression tightened at that.

"He's in shock," Michael said evenly. "He'll be fine once that wears off. We've all had mishaps in the arena."

"True enough," Ezekiel agreed. "He says he mistimed his strike."

Michael's brows rose in surprise as he took a drink. "Really."

"He doesn't want Balthazar to receive a demerit," Gabriel said bluntly.

Ezekiel nodded. In training, mistimed maneuvers resulted in demerits and every time an attack wasn't defended effectively, a demerit resulted. "I'm not going to give either of them a demerit."

"You saw it too, then," Michael stated.

Ezekiel sat back in his chair. "I do not believe anyone other than a seasoned warrior could have blocked or dodged that attack," he said. "It happened so quickly, I almost didn't see it myself."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" Gabriel asked.

"I'm removing Eliyon from your instruction," Michael told Ezekiel."

"What?!" Gabriel exclaimed.

Ezekiel straightened, his Grace reeling with shock. "I see," he said stoically. "Very well."

"No! Not 'very well'. Michael, what are you thinking?" Gabriel demanded.

Michael gave him a sharp look and turned back to Ezekiel. "This is not an issue with your skills as a Mentor."

Ezekiel narrowed his eyes. "Then…what is it?"

"Eliyon will not advance anymore, not under your instruction," Michael went on. "I'm attaching him to a Garrison."

"Don't split them up, Michael," Gabriel groaned. "They're too good together. Today was an accident. You've seen them work as a team. They're almost flawless."

"In this…I must agree with Gabriel," Ezekiel interjected respectfully. "Separating the three would be a mistake."

"Would you rather have today repeated?" Michael asked. "Or worse, would you prefer to see Eliyon become battle-shy?"

Ezekiel looked a little startled by that thought.

"As his Mentor, he will obey any order you give," Michael went on. "But after today, he will never win another spar. He won't be willing to risk injuring one of them again. His skills will deteriorate and he'll become a liability in battle."

Ezekiel's frown became more thoughtful than alarmed. "You are right," he said after a moment.

Michael tossed back what was left in his cup and set it down with an air of finality. "I'm sending him to the Grigori. Send him to me once Balthazar is recovered."

"I will," Ezekiel said and left the aerie.

Gabriel sighed audibly in relief. "At least you're not going to drag him off immediately."

Michael's Grace pulsed a little sadly. "I'm not cruel, Gabriel."

"Gadreel might disagree with you," Gabriel replied flatly.

Michael turned to him, his eyes flashing angrily. "Gadreel committed a crime. He didn't accidentally wound a Graduate."

"Gadreel was tricked," Gabriel argued. "You think Lucifer fought his way into Eden? Do you think he would have stood a chance if he'd tried? Gadreel fought off half the Leviathans when they tried to get inside. There's a reason Father gave him the duty of protecting it."

Michael's wings slowly flared with his temper. "He shouldn't have let him in, regardless. He knew the state of affairs here, if he was so uncertain, he should have verified with me."

"Oh, so you would be above reproach but not Lucifer?" Gabriel retorted. "He didn't know."

"He should have," Michael said flatly.

"He doesn't deserve to be in prison," Gabriel growled.

"Attempt to free him, and you'll have the cell next to his," Michael warned dangerously.

"Michael, listen to yourself!" Gabriel begged.

"Do you disagree that he was involved in a treasonous act?" Michael demanded.

Gabriel opened his mouth, but couldn't find a counter-argument.

"Do you dispute that Father's most treasured creation has been forever tainted as a result of his failure to perform his duty?" Michael went on. "The fact that he is the fifth Angel of creation and the only one Father saw fit to name Sentry, is the only reason he wasn't executed where he was found. His failure is unpardonable. Prison is where he stays."