A/N: Hello, everybody! So, this chapter's... a little rough. That's all I'm gonna say and you can find out what I mean when you read it :)
Shoutouts to: Kathy and Megatronas! Thanks so much for reviewing!
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Michael fought his way free of the horde of demons that had swarmed him, blocking him from pursuing Lucifer. He collided with the fallen archangel just outside the citadel and Lucifer's true voice rang out in agony as Michael's blade pierced the base of one of his wings. He twisted around and grabbed hold of Michael's armor, hurling his brother through the air so hard that Michael's helmet came off when he hit the ground.
"How does it feel?" Michael snarled bitterly, rolling to his feet and stalking forward, wings flared high and blade held low, prepared to attack.
Lucifer launched into him with a roar, driving his blade into Michael's armored middle, trying to force the tip between the layers of celestial steel. Michael brought the pommel of his blade down on Lucifer's head once, twice, the third time, Lucifer let him go and Michael drove his knee into his kneeling brother's face, knocking him onto his back. When Michael dove forward to press his advantage, Lucifer slammed his blade into the ground and frigid grace erupted around him. Michael reared back with a shout of pain but his wrathful inferno quickly dissipated Lucifer's icy shield. The Morningstar screamed in pain as the fire scorched his midnight wings and his grace blasted out to counter Michael's assault.
Michael had always been the stronger fighter. His wings surged and fanned the flames as he reached through Lucifer's ice and gripped his brother by the throat. Lucifer pounded on Michael's arm, trying to break his hold but Michael's fingers only tightened until Lucifer fell to his knees, wings flailing weakly in panic, hands clutching desperately to Michael's wrist.
Michael put the tip of his blade against Lucifer's chest and with a fiery eruption of grace, the Morningstar's armor smoldered and fell away, leaving him completely exposed.
"I could kill you," he hissed. "Father isn't here to stop me. I should kill you." Lucifer started to struggle again and Michael gave him a hard shake. "But I am obedient. I… am a good son," he snarled. "So, no, you won't die here. But you'll wish you'd had."
Thunder rumbled behind him and he started dragging Lucifer toward the sound. The cage loomed overhead, an enormous dark box bound by unbreakable chains. A tiny prison for such an immense creature.
Lucifer started thrashing again when he saw it, desperately trying to break Michael's grip. He knew he couldn't. He'd never been able to, even as fledglings.
All around them were dead and dying angels, collapsed in heaps of shredded wings, feathers, and silver grace. On earth, souls keened in agony from the overflow of the fighting.
Grace exploded across the sky like a supernova and Michael froze, horror filling him to the brim.
No… it can't be…
Lucifer took advantage of Michael's sudden distraction and broke free. He slammed his blade into the battered portion of Michael's armor and it sunk deep into his side. Michael screamed in pain and rage and this time, his hand landed on Lucifer's top wing. He flung Lucifer into the Cage with a snarl, the same contempt and loathing in his eyes as when they'd put the Leviathans into Purgatory.
The door slammed shut with a thunderous crash.
"Lock it away," Michael growled, his true voice rumbling the ground beneath the angels' feet. Then, his fear surged to the fore and he pulsed his grace. "Gabriel?!"
Silence answered him.
"GABRIEL!"
He launched into the air, a fiery comet streaking over heaven and earth as he raced to the spot Gabriel had last been.
His youngest brother lay on the ground, golden wings spread around him, blade resting on limp fingers. His armor had been shredded and lay in pieces around him and his golden eyes stared sightlessly at the boiling sky.
Michael landed in a sprint, falling to his knees beside Gabriel's body. "No," he breathed in horror, touching Gabriel's face, his chest, checking for any sign that he still lived. "No, Gabriel… please…"
The Messenger's body was cold when it had always been warm, and still, when he'd always been moving, flapping a wing, tapping his fingers, shifting from foot to foot like he was forever excited about something.
"Gabriel…" Michael pled, throat tightening around the name as his hands fisted desperately in his youngest brother's shirt. "Gabriel…" He couldn't breathe and the howling grief that was tearing through him snuffed out his inferno like a candle in a gust of wind. "No… no, Gabriel…"
Gently, he lifted Gabriel's upper body and cradled him against his chest, rocking slowly, hoping in vain that the movement would rouse him.
"You can't be…" he whispered. "Not you… Gabriel, please…"
Tears spilled from his eyes and dripped onto Gabriel's face. Surely that would wake him. He would never be able to pass up the opportunity to tease Michael mercilessly for crying.
He never moved.
Michael's breath left him in a rush like it had all been punched out of him. "Gabriel," his voice choked off in a barely contained sob. "Gabriel, I can't… I can't…."
I can't do this alone…
He clutched his brother's limp body and screamed his grief to the sky, tears streaming down his face. He held him until he faded away. Unlike humans, they were not creatures of dust. He would never have a body to bury.
At that moment, he envied humankind.
Duty brought him to his feet again and he flew numbly back to the fighting. He hovered over the battlefield for a moment and with a final pulse of grace, incinerated every remaining demon. He couldn't stop reaching out for Gabriel, looking for his bright, warm presence, desperate to feel him close by.
A tiny pulse of grace answered his call and he surged toward it with desperate hope.
Eliyon lay on his side, twitching weakly with the poison flowing through him, his grace flaring faintly, begging for help. When Michael landed next to him, it automatically reached for the archangel, desperate for a connection.
Gabriel's grace was still on him, even after all this time.
Michael knelt and gently lifted Eliyon into his arms. Blackness trickled from the corner of his mouth and he gasped wetly in pain. His blade fell to the ground with a ringing clatter as his hand lost the strength to hold it any longer.
"M—" he broke off, coughing and gagging up more of the pitch-like substance. He struggled to open his eyes, recognizing the presence. "Mich..ael…"
"Shh," Michael soothed, wrapping Eliyon in his grace. "I have you, little one."
He took flight for the Rit Zien, being careful not to jostle Eliyon too much. He was already so weak, a rough flight could spell his end.
The Rit Zien were busy tending the wounded and dying. Those that could be saved were taken aside. Those that couldn't…
The more Michael saw, the more he realized that Eliyon looked more like those the Rit Zien were euthanizing.
"I'll take him, sir," one of them said solemnly, holding out his arms to take Eliyon.
Michael gave him a hard glare. "This one lives."
The angel blinked at him in shock and looked Eliyon over again with an expression of growing horror. "But… he—"
"This. One. Lives," Michael ordered in a tone that could have frozen lava. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," he nodded and led the way to an open bed.
Michael laid Eliyon on the clean sheets and the angel reached out weakly for him. "Mi..chael…"
"You'll be alright, little one," Michael murmured, taking his hand for a moment. Then, he glared at the Rit Zien standing beside him. "I'm holding you personally responsible for his survival."
The angel nodded with a slightly nervous look. "I understand."
Michael stood and walked out. The battle had ended, but he still had duties. The Cage had to be sealed away and buried in the deepest recesses of Hell. The surviving battalions had to be gathered and taken care of.
All of this and more required his attention. However, his wings took him to the aeries. To Gabriel's, aerie.
Raphael could handle the battalions for now.
Michael pushed the door open, then closed it and leaned against it like he was afraid something would force its way inside. He glanced around, taking in every detail like it was the first time he'd ever seen Gabriel's room. Carefully, he stepped farther inside. He laid his hand on the bed, seeing the sheets twisted and askew, as though Gabriel had just left the soft fabric. The curtains were drawn back. Gabriel had always preferred flying from the window to using his door.
The strength suddenly left his legs and he sank to the floor beside the bed, resting his head against the soft side even as it started to sway. He didn't stop it, letting the movement rock him gently just as he'd rocked Gabriel's body not even an hour ago. The sobs that tore out of him stole his breath and made his entire body ache while blocking out every other wound he'd received. He had a deep puncture in his side from Lucifer's blade. He had numerous toxic lacerations from the demon horde and one wing was sprained.
Gabriel was gone.
"I'm sorry, little brother," Michael sobbed the words that Gabriel deserved but would never get to hear. "I'm so sorry."
A/N: Yes, I cried. *offers tissues*