A/N: Halloooo! Is anybody still here? I'm alive! I really am! I took a mini-mester this summer and boy, let me tell you, you talk about FAST. I wish I'd done it sooner. A tornado hit my campus this spring. No one was hurt, thank God because it was Spring break and NO ONE was there. But they're going to have to demolish one of the buildings because the damage is irreparable. We're all very sad :'( I was helping with the cleanup, so no time to write there. And on...and on...and on...stuff and things and no time and #mymuseismeantome.

Anyway! I'm here!

You guys though, really, I feel bad. Getting the emails about the reviews and the follows and the favs, it made me feel so good that you haven't given up on me but I felt soooo bad because I wasn't getting you chapters and I'm so sorry.

Shoutouts! Monkeygirl77, uddelhexe, PrincessMagic, TheLittlePlaidMaid, and AnimeFreak71777. Thanks so much! I'm so happy you're enjoying and I hope I haven't scared you away with the lack of content.

I repeat this solemn promise: I will NEVER abandon a fic. EVER.

Uddelhexe and TheLittlePlaidMaid, glad to know I've got you hooked ;)

Monkeygirl77, always good to see you, my friend. I hope I continue to deliver adequate amounts of fluff, mystery, and angst for your reading pleasure.

Love you all!

Eliyon watched the village from the Ether, his grace expanded to the point that it blanketed the roofs and wound through the streets. He'd been on Earth for hundreds of years now. He'd stood guard over so many villages, seen them become cities and seen them fall. So many things had changed. They no longer spoke a unified language and the stones of their Tower, the last piece of evidence of their last united effort, had long crumbled away. He rarely saw the other Grigori, though Tamiel kept an eye on his Watchers. They were all on guard somewhere in the world.

Eliyon sighed contentedly and flexed his wings, the sun glinted off the bronze feathers that concealed the powerful muscles. He closed his eyes and just relaxed into his grace. He could feel every soul, bright and warm and glorious. The souls of the children were especially so.

The children were his favorite.

One child, a boy, had wandered from his friends and was dangerously close to the woods, to the predators that lurked within.

Eliyon faded into the form of a dog and padded toward him.

The boy looked startled by the sudden appearance of the dog, but then he smiled. "Hello, where did you come from?"

The dog gave a happy pant and started tugging on his shirt, wanting to play. Slowly, as they wrestled and played, they moved away from the woods.

That night, the boy managed to persuade his mother to let him keep his new friend and Eliyon slept beside his bed. That is until the mother turned down all the lamps and then the boy called him up onto his bed and he spent the night cuddling him into his fur.

The boy never noticed the tiny seconds when Eliyon vanished to check the village, and the villages twenty, fifty and a hundred miles away. He would go and return in the space of a breath, even before the boy's arms could collapse from the absence of the dog form he was sleeping with.

He stayed with the boy as a dog, watching over him, the village and the other settlements. For some reason, his grace resonated with this child, but not in the same way it would have if he'd found a vessel. This was…different. Something about this child's blood, his soul, was unique.

Destined.

"Stay with this one, Eliyon. His sons will play a critical part in the world in the days to come."

Father's command filled him with warmth and he sighed happily. And so, he stayed. He stayed until the fur on his nose turned gray and the boy was a young man. He stayed until, as a dog, he died and the young man buried him, tears watering the earth like rain.

Then, the young man was out hunting one afternoon a week later and found a young dog caught in his snare instead of the game the young man wanted. His leg was broken. He freed him and took him home.

Eliyon spent that night sleeping on the bed with his charge once again.

Michael carried his completed lance to the armory wrapped in a white cloth. His grace was woven through it, powering it, identifying it as an Archangel's weapon. No one would dare touch it.

The Cage was complete now, ready to hold Heaven's second son. Michael was ready to end this fight once and for all. After all, Father had never said that he wanted Lucifer locked away alive. He felt the pull of the scars every time he flexed his wings and it fueled his bitter, black rage. Once a brother beloved, but no longer. Lucifer had betrayed Heaven and he would pay the price.

After locking the armory again, Michael flew to the Mercy Room. The coals glowed, crackling softly in the altar and the air twisted in the heat. He just stood there, wondering if it would flare with Father's wrath, sounding the call to war again. His grace churned painfully when nothing happened. Joshua had said that Father had gone. Some small part of him still denied that was true, or at least held on to the hope that he would come back. The twisting, blistering air rising from the altar only burned the inevitable realizing into his mind.

He was on his own.

Grace surged into the room and a rush of wings preceded Raphael's arrival.

"Michael!" he cried. "We must speak!"

"On what matter?" Michael asked evenly.

Raphael stepped up to him and grabbed his arm, his eyes wide with panic. "Where is Father?"

Michael turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I've just come from the garden," Raphael's voice was a hiss. "Joshua said…" he glanced around to make sure they were alone. "He said Father has left Heaven. I nearly smote him for the lie…" he trailed off, seeing Michael's stricken expression. "It is true," he breathed in horror.

Michael nodded. "It is true."

"How long?" Raphael demanded.

"I don't know," Michael said quietly.

"What are we to do?" Raphael asked. "Surely he left a message."

Michael shook his head.

"He must have!" Raphael insisted. "He must have left instructions. For you at least."

"He didn't," Michael growled. "But that changes nothing."

"This changes everything!"

Michael fisted his hands in Raphael's shirt and pinned him to the wall. "Keep your voice down," he growled. "This changes nothing. We have his last orders. The Cage is complete. We imprison Lucifer and continue in our duties until he returns. Understand?"

Raphael nodded, his cool demeanor returning. "I understand."

"This stays between us," Michael stated, releasing him. "Heaven will fall into chaos if the Angels find out. I don't need any more rebellions. Lucifer's defiance will go into the Cage with him and that will be the end of it."

"Of course," Raphael replied with a small bow and left.

Michael let out a slow breath to compose himself, to calm the fear that he'd concealed behind temper and orders. His wings shifted and he felt the scars. His grace heated with wrath once more.

One thing has changed, brother. Father could have saved you from me. But He was the only one.

Anybody wanna take a stab at who Eliyon's charge could be?