"Keep your shitty nose out of my business," Plantael sneered. Plantael grabbed his spear, he looked ready to attack.

Raphael looked at the spear warily and saw his own reflection on the spears' cracked metal. For a moment, he felt his world had cracked around him.

Plantael cried out and attempted to lunge at Raphael. Whose eyes had widened in shock and fear, as he attempted to move out of the way. He narrowly dodged Plantael slicing his head off.

Plantael turned towards him again. He snarled in anger and clenched his fingers tighter on his Ox Tongue spear. Seeing this, Raphael attempted to think of a way to stop Plantael, or get away, preferably both. He isn't a fighter, and he is not afraid to admit it. No-War-Raphael or Antiwar-Raphael, one of those could be his new nickname. Yeah, better than Wreck it Raph to be honest.

In his visual perception, Raphael spotted a thick stick, it was laying in the grass between the white and yellow chrysanthemums. It was practically waiting for him to grab it. New determination swam through his veins, as he successfully tricked Plantael. He got him to jump to the left, instead of right. Right where his golden stick was laying between the flowers. He lunged for the beautiful stick on the ground. He grabbed it, and quickly turned it around, to get it in a comfortable grip.

It was now or never, he thought.

Raphael's fighting stance was impeccable. While he was not a warrior, he was still the sibling of Michael and Lucifer, both of which were strong warriors. He could cockily say that he was not a total newbie.

He gave his best warrior yell and took an offensive stand against Plantael. Plantael swung and Raphael dodged by jumping out of the way, avoiding getting slashed in the arm. Plantael's fist flew through the air, he felt as if time slowed down as he moved out of the way. It took every bit of focus to block the next blow.

Using a stick against a sword was a bad idea, and he knew it. But he did not have any other good idea, so right now, using a stick, was a great idea.

He was sure that if Michael and Lucifer were to see him fight right now. They would have been impressed. Lucifer would probably yell at him to stop fighting his acolyte. But Lucifer and Michael weren't here and probably would not be. It wouldn't matter if they were either way. Oh… How he desperately just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

Raphael and Plantael exchanged blow after blow, block after block. Plantael had slashed Raphael twice on the arm. The cuts were not too deep, but they still stung, it had made him almost drop his stick.

He swung his stick and hit Plantael in the lower stomach, making him stop and grunt in pain, it pushed him back.

Plantael's eyes had filled with rage, and he raised his spear high above his head, the metal reflected in the light as Plantael swung downwards. Ready to end it once and for all. The final blow.

The final blow hurtled down on him, sharp and unforgettable. In unfocused desperation, Raphael raised his stick above his head.

CRACK

His once golden stick fell to the ground with a clack, fractured into two broken pieces.

"Halt! There will be no fighting in the garden! The garden is neutral, this is a no fighting zone. It has been declared, just as the Healing wards have been declared a neutral zone."

A blond haired angel appeared from who knows where. The new angel stood threatening, or what supposedly looked threatening. His wings were spread out, they framed him and made him look cherubic. Which he probably was, Raphael guessed.

Plantael looked at the new angel, his face had twisted into a sneer, it made him look more animalistic. "No." Was all that Plantael had to say.

The blond angel looked at him, he looked uncomfortable drawing his sword at them. Was this new angel able to kill one of them?

Unlike popular theory in Heaven, not every angel was created to be soldiers. And this angel certainly didn't look like one, too cherub-like. He had probably been ordered to guard the Garden, and then he went to investigate when he heard fighting.

"Well, ah. You see. I'm going to have to stop you." The new angel began.

"No."

Plantael looked at Raphael for a few seconds, deciding whether he should kill Raphael right then and there or lunge at the blond angel instead. Both options were a no-go in his opinion.

Those few seconds of hesitation, was all Raphael needed to get away from Plantael's line of sight, and attack. He threw the two parts of his former golden staff at Plantael like they were a deadly poison.

The raw speed at which they had hit Plantael, one on the head and the other in the eye, had surprised all three angels. Mostly Plantael since they had been thrown at him.

He leaned backwards in a failed attempt to avoid the two pieces of wood, so much so, that he fell on his ass with a yell of pain. It was at that moment, Raphael moved towards the blond angel like a bat out of hell.

He ran towards the angel, his loose hair moving with the breeze. It blew against him like a hug made out of sync. "You must leave! It is not safe here," Raphael hurriedly said to the angel in front of him. "Go to Michael, I need you to relay a message to her. 'The garden has been breached and likely will again."

The angel stared at him with mouth agape and with eyes big as saucers. It was as if it was the first time anyone had given him such a high and important order. Maybe he was not used to it, Raphael thought. If they both survive this war, he would see to it that this angel got a higher position. Raphael wondered what his name was.

"Michael will not believe me if I go and tell her that. I'd need more than my words to prove it," the angel argued. He was right, Michael probably wouldn't believe the angel. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. Saying something had happened and it being a lie.

"Listen, I will give you a communications cube, with my voice. That way she will believe you. Here, tell me your-" Plantael threw himself at them and managed to grab a hold of the blond angel. Who had pushed Raphael out of the way. Raphael ended up against a nearby tree, dizzy from being thrown at one in the first place.

Plantael sat on top of the blond angel, shortly afterwards he had thrown both of them on the ground. He grabbed the struggling angel's throat, trying to strangle him. While he tried to reach the fallen weapon, which laid just a few inches away from them.

The angel stretched his arm out, fingers desperately stretching to reach the weapon. He was so close, a little more, NEARLY THERE, he could almost feel the metal on the weapon. JUST A LITTLE MORE-

A cry of pain pierced the air.

Plantael fell off the unnamed angel in shock, the ox tongue spear had been stabbed deep into his shoulder.

The blond angel gasped for breath like a dying angel. His eyes were wide open, once again feeling that beautiful air. OH- he had to check on Raphael. The other archangels would kill him before Plantael could. Had he accidentally killed him?. He hurriedly looked towards Plantael, who was cradling his injured shoulder. He had to hurry.

The injury was not fatal. It couldn't- wouldn't stop Plantael.

"Raphael! Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to get stabbed- I-"

"I'm fine," Raphael said. He had to end this with Plantael, and he had an idea of how to do exactly that, but he had to get the angel away first somehow.

"When I give you the cube, you must go to Michael and give it to her, okay? They need to know, and you need to go!"

"No! I- I can't, I won't. He will try to kill you, you are an archangel, but he is sputtering mad." The blond angel sputtered.

Raphael did not listen. He was already moving his hands together, his fingers forming a square, as he whispered ancient words. He had to hurry, but attempting to hurry while making it. Risked parts of the cube being damaged. He couldn't well send a mumbled or lagging message.

Times change and so would people, if not, they would get left behind, and sometimes… That had to happen. It was bittersweet, but it was life and life is nothing, if not bittersweet and unknowing for what it holds.

A light now shone between his fingers. The square, which his fingers had formed, had begun taking a shape: a box. The square box he was making was known as a messenger box, it carried a spoken message in it.

Raphael shoved the messenger box into the shocked blond Angel's hands. Said Angel stared at him with an expression he didn't want to decipher. Raphael wondered if the angel knew what he was planning to do. Oh, well… No time like the present, he thought as he pushed the angel away from him with supernatural strength.

The angel stumbled, almost dropping the messenger box. He looked at Raphael with wide, uncertain eyes. He was still reluctant to leave… Raphael understood why, but he had no time to show his empathy-SINCE PLANTAEL WAS RUSHING TOWARDS THEM WITH HIS WEAPON IN HAND!

"Leave!" Raphael yell-ordered the blond angel. The blond angel finally began moving away, albeit reluctantly. His wings spread out and he began taking off. But not before looking backwards, his expression conflicted like he debated with himself about whether he should listen, or stay and help Raphael. But in the end, he left, fulfilling his order.

His wings flapped with speed through the air. The further away he got, the smaller and smaller he became. Soon he would be just a dot in the horizon, and hopefully continuing on his way to Michael and delivering Raphael's message.

As the angel got further away. Plantael seemed to have gotten closer. He was standing almost right behind Raphael. One hand retained the bloody spear, the tip was painted red from his own blood. His shoulder wound kept bleeding, blood was rushing out of it. But it was of no concern to Plantael, because Plantael seemed to have his eyes set on him instead.

" You made him leave."

" You don't need to hurt him, Plantael."

Plantael just glowered at him, his shoulder still bled freely, and he kept glowering. Raphael felt unnerved from the way Plantael continued looking at him. The way those lifeless, emotionless eyes kept looking at him. Like he could see what Raphael really felt about this war, about his sibling, about the pl-

A cruel laugh rang through the air. It was the type of laughter that sounded the same no matter what. Like a broken record playing the same sound again and again.

"I should have known. Sending the little angel away… You are a coward, Raphael. Unworthy of your power."

Did it matter if Plantael was right or not? No. But it still made him doubt. Great, more doubt! Was he really undeserving of his title? He was created with it, so there must be a purpose for it, right? Maybe he was not really suited to be an archangel. But he has been doing what he was created to do for so long, and he doubts anyone would be a better choice than him. He was just like his siblings; irreplaceable, you couldn't just replace an archangel. Suddenly, Raphael wondered if you actually could do just that.

"Do you know how many times you have done this before?" Raphael croaked, he closed his eyes and spread his arms out.

Plantael charged, furious and imprudent. He held his spear so roughly, that you could see the veins popping out from the sheer pressure of his grip.

He had to do this, no matter the cost OR PAIN-

Raphael does not exactly remember getting stabbed. And he does not remember the excruciatingly sharp pain that followed right after, nor does he remember falling on the ground. Laying down, half-delirious, bleeding out, red, red, red everywhere. How long had he been laying on the ground? Stabbed, fallen, beaten. No, not beaten, never beaten, this was a part of his shitty plan. yeah... He had to get up, he had to finish this, he had to end this… He was so tired. He knew that he had to open his eyes, but he was just so tired…

The world blurred at first. But one of the first things he saw was green and red, it was all around him in a big puddle. Fighting on the ground for dominance. He wondered what his siblings would think of him now, or what they would do. He hopes that they will stop, but that's unlikely to happen.

He had to inspect his wound and see how bad it really was, because it certainly felt bad and oh -HOW IT HURT.

He raised his head slowly and looked down at his stomach. Plantael's spear was sticking out of him, the tip pointing upwards towards the sky. He remembered now, Plantael stabbed him from behind, all the way through. Not really surprising. He wondered why the sight of a spear, sticking fully out of him, was not making him panic more than it was.

Diagnosis: the wound was between his lower ribs, all the way through. Catastrophic bleeding. But bleeding was slowed down by the spear still embedded in him. Shock has not yet set in. He wasn't called a healer for nothing, he knew what he was talking about.

A dark laughter ran through the air. What was Plantael up to now that Raphael was 'dead' and unable to stop him?

Raphael turned his head towards Plantael, the pain from the motion made his vision blur. Plantael was standing in front of the Tree, doing something not good. Also, something smelled weird, sharp and almost toxic. What was that smell?

Plantael had taken a smaller dagger from somewhere. He couldn't see what it looked like, but he could sense the bad aura the dagger imitated. What was plantael going to do? Plantael walked up to the tree, he held the Dagger in his hand And turned it around in his grip. He gave a dark chuckle, He held The Dagger up in the air and stabbed, right in the middle of the tree.

It was as if something spread out from the dagger, and went into the tree, a dark light spread out in the tree. Making dark veins appear all the way up to the tallest branches.

It was back, and it was stronger! That smell, sharp and toxic like. In his gut, he knew it wasn't a normal smell, a good smell. He had to stop what was causing it: Plantael.

In desperation yet again, he found and threw his fallen sticks at Plantael.

He hoped this would work, or else he would die and everyone else would probably die. Life was great!