AN: This is not the last chapter. Titles have been selected for semantic purposes. Please R+R, and enjoy!
Castiel didn't realize that he had accidentally tuned into the archangel radio in his panic, and that the six archangels in the room had all heard his query.
Raphael's grip on the angel tightened. "Didn't hurt you," he mumbled. "Wouldn't hurt you." He leaned towards Castiel's neck, trying to get closer him. He was crying again, first because he'd never imagined he could get his Cassie back and second because it felt like he was going to lose him all over again over an imagined slight. "I couldn't hurt you," he whispered, approaching sobs. "Never ever."
Aziraphale blinked. "That's not possible." He blinked again. "I don't remember the universe ceasing to exist. We would know if an archangel had died, we wouldn't be here any more."
Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. "What do you mean, Angel? How could you possibly know that?"
The latter rolled his eyes. "The amount of power an archangel holds is immeasurable. Were one of us to actually kick the bucket, as they say, all that energy and power would be released. And it would certainly destroy the universe in the process."
"And the ineffable plan?"
"Would not allow for such an occurrence. Hence, Raphael can't have killed Castiel. Although I don't think Rafa could have in the first place. He has to uphold the oath to do no harm." He nodded to himself. "Whatever Cassie thinks he remembers, it's not what really happened."
Gabriel stared at Raphael and Castiel, trying and failing to understand what he'd missed. Raphael had been clearly so excited to have his siblings come back, so it seemed unlikely Raphael could have actually killed somebody. The healer was bound by something like the Hippocratic Oath, but even beyond that, Rafa'el had always been the calmest and most rational of the archangels. Except when he molted. Which explained why he was crying again, but not what Castiel thought had occurred. Though from what he could hear Azi saying, they were all more immortal than they'd ever thought they were.
Michael had no idea what to do. If Raphael had decided to snuggle Castiel like a fledgling, there would be no dissuading him before the molt was over. They all had different nesting instincts when it came time to molt, but the desire to keep fledglings close was pretty common. Castiel was no longer a fledgling, but Raphael has given him to Anael thousands of year before, so his grace was probably confused. If Michael made the attempt to free Castiel, the chance of Raphael seeing it as a threat was high and he didn't want to deal with that either, because if Raphael was that out of his mind from the molt, they were all better off staying as they were.
The thing was though, Michael was sure that whatever Castiel was afraid of was the result of a misunderstanding. And Raphael's keening also made it sound as though he knew what had happened, at least to an extent and he wasn't lying which also meant Raph didn't currently think himself guilty of something he wasn't completely responsible for.
Michael noticed then that Lucifer was staring silently at Samael. It seemed incredibly lucky that Gabriel had been able to bring back both Aziraphale and Samael, but as joyous as their return to Heaven was, Castiel was the more pressing matter. "Go greet your twin," he mumbled anyway, because he knew that no matter what, his mate had never stopped perceiving Samael's absence as his own fault. That guilt laid only at the feet of the Creator, but it was not possible to tell if Heylel understood that yet.
Lucifer stood and walked sedately towards Samael. It reminded Michael that it would be a long time before Lucifer accepted that he could have what he wanted because the cage had not been kind.
Samael initiated the hug with Lucifer because he did not have the patience to deal with his twin's wallowing. He was not going to disappear. None of them were.
But it was more than that, Michael realized. They all feared to some extent that the others would disappear. The Creator had shown with ease that he could separate them and wipe their memories and do whatever he wanted to them.
Except kill them. The others were paying varying degrees of attention to Aziraphale and Samael, but it was not possible for the eldest to actively ignore any of the younger archangels. Especially not during a molt, when carelessness could lead to someone getting hurt. So he heard Aziraphale's words. The hoarder of books might have been expressing the facts in relation to what Castiel had claimed, that Raphael had killed him, but Michael saw it in a bigger picture.
The Creator could not kill any one of them, not without destroying the entire universe (and theoretically himself) in the process, which gave them the upper hand should he return and attempt to subjugate them again.
It might have seemed like an extreme measure, but Michael knew that as unlikely as It was that the Creator would return to torment them, it was not out if the realm of possibility and they had to be prepared, or at least vigilant enough that his appearance would not be a surprise. He had tried to demand that one should kill the other, after all.
Castiel whined, still struggling to escape the Healer's grasp. The fledgling had shifted and was nuzzling his side, as was the archangel, and he did not understand why.
Michael's attention was drawn back to the youngest archangel. One problem at a time or nothing would be solved. Had that not been why Raphael had drugged him? There was no reason for hysteria. Castiel believed a mistruth and it was past time to rectify the most recent one, if not all of them.
"Aziraphale, you're the archangel of truth, are you not?" Rather than glancing in the direction of said archangel, Michael watched to see if his words would draw Castiel's curiosity. This was successful as the angel did stop struggling as he glanced from Michael to the archangels behind Gabriel.
"Secrets and mysteries, more like. But I'm sure I can find a hidden truth." He walked towards them while studying Castiel. "You didn't die, least of all at Raphael's hand. So what really happened?"
"But I remember ," Castiel argued.
"Must be memory tampering. Happened to the lot of us, so no surprises there. Let's see if I can fix it." He eased himself onto the floor in front of Raphael and put a hand on Castiel's forehead. "Hmm. Interesting." A moment later there was a flash of light.
When the light faded, Castiel stared at Aziraphale. He wanted to glare, but now that he could remember what had happened that day at the Prophet's house, he wasn't sure how to react. It was bad. It had been so bad. He leaned back against Raphael, who was still rambling about how he couldn't have done what Castiel had accused him of, and the angel felt guilt because he knew that now.
It was so much worse than that, because God Himself had stuffed him in a pocket realm for a day or two and tampered with his memories of the event. Chuck Shurley was not on the list of prophets, but had managed to convince certain angels and archangels that he was to suit his needs. To make a game of them. And Castiel had confronted him because he'd figured it out, eventually. But not fast enough, and he had not acted in a way that would have allowed him to warn his siblings. How naive he'd been.
He couldn't keep tears at bay. He'd been used as nothing more than a pawn to a Creator who had held no feelings for his creations, and who has sought the destruction of his firstborn children. No wonder Raphael had suggested Lucifer could have revived him, he had hoped that if they'd held Lucifer in a sympathetic light, they might have reached this outcome here. But at the same time he would not have understood completely what had happened.
Raphael's grip on Castiel tightened and he shifted, trying to hug the quivering form. He was aware that Castiel was no longer struggling and was suffering emotionally from something else, but he did not have the capacity to keep track of the nuance of what was going on in the room right then, still wrapped up in the fact that his Cassie was here and had thought he had murdered him of all things (but didn't still, though Raphael's brain hadn't quite caught up to that yet).
"It's okay, little brother," Aziraphale soothed, leaning forward to brush a comforting hand along Castiel's face. "We've got you."
Lucifer pulled away from Samael and went back to Michael and laid down next to him. Samael followed, but he laid down touching Aziraphale.
Gabriel watched, goofy grin on his face. This. This was what he'd been missing for the 6000 years since the Creator had split their family into pieces. They were finally all home and from the looks of things, there'd be no more fighting. At long last then, he could finally have this.
"Gavri'el," Michael called from where he was lying. "Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to come here ."
"I'm coming," the messenger promised. "I just… need a second." There was no way he was going to forget this. Never, ever, not for anything. The world could have ended and this scene was still going to be ingrained in his grace because he wouldn't allow for it to not be. They'd lost and suffered enough already.
" Come here, " the eldest archangel repeated. Gabriel was still grinning stupidly, but even Michael remembered the Gabriel was the best at hiding behind facades of mischief and pretending to be fine. He might have been fine, still, but he was also likely two seconds thoughts drifting to less pleasant things and Michael didn't want three bawling archangels on his hands because two was enough.
Gabriel shuffled around the room until he was on the far side of Michael and then he let Michael pull him into a hug, chasing his arising concerns away. This was the most pressing moment, everything could come later, once they'd molted and were more emotionally stable. What would come, would, and they didn't need to stress over it right now.
As they laid there in quiet companionship, they reached a relaxed state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Raphael was the closest to actual sleep because being so emotional during his molt was exhausting.
The others were in varying degrees of wakefulness. Despite also being close to a molt, Michael was the most awake. Only a lunatic would have considered attacking a room with seven archangels in it, but having someone alert in case anything changed was not stupid. Ingrained in each of the archangels was a need to protect the others as they molted, hence Castiel's presence outside even when he had not understood why.
Lucifer was close to sleep. He was surrounded by Michael's and Raphael's warmth and it was soothing. His twin and the other missing archangels had returned and this was as close to perfect as he'd ever thought he would get, especially after everything.
Michael felt the tremor in Lucifer's grace before the others. Michael had felt when Lucifer had fallen into slumber, had been listening to the sounds of his mate and his siblings breathing even as he drifted through his relaxed state. Feeling Lucifer's terror, the eldest archangel sat up, already trying to figure out what was going on. But as he looked at his mate, he knew. Lucifer was shaking, sweating, and they could all feel as the archangel's grace curled away from them, reeking of pain and hurt .
Nightmare. But why now? Michael wondered. After everything they'd been through, nightmares wouldn't have been a surprise if they were human, but they weren't. They were archangels and they didn't even need sleep, just sometimes it was nice to take a peaceful and relaxing break.
Which meant his Heylel shouldn't have been having a nightmare, and the fact that he was meant something was wrong. He sat up, wrenching himself from the relaxed state so that he could figure out what the hell was going on.
Michael's actions, along with the terrified state of Lucifer's grace, also stirred the other archangels into investigating (and awakening, in the case of Raphael and Castiel). "What's going on?" Raphael asked first. Even in his wrought mental state, he still knew that whatever it was, it was bad. While he managed to keep most of his fear out of his voice, the archangels in the room were the people who knew him the best, and were for the most part, already well aware at how good Raphael was at wearing a facade of calm. As a healer, such a mask was necessary when it came to keeping patients from freaking out and injuring themselves further, no matter how minor or severe the injury to begin with. There were reasons it was Raphael who was the main healer, besides just being the archangel of healing.
Aziraphale reached for his twin, putting a hand on Raphael's shoulder. "It's okay, Rafa," he said quietly. "We've got everything under control." Which may or may not have been correct, but the archangel of secrets had also seen the fledgling Raphael was still holding, and knew that it was more important for Raphael to keep the fledgling from finding out that anything was wrong than for the healer to investigate what was going on with Lucifer.
Michael reached for Lucifer's shoulder. "Heylel," he said quietly. "Heylel, wake up."
The second eldest archangel didn't so much as stir in his sleep, besides trembling from the terrors in his mind. He showed no sign of feeling Michael's attempts at waking him.
"Heylel," Michael repeated, "Heylel, it's just a nightmare."
"I don't think he can hear you," Crowley stated. They glanced at him. "Yes, it's obvious, but I mean, there's something clearly wrong here."
"So what do we do about it?" Gabriel asked. "Let Heylel wake up on his own?"
"Isn't there something we can do? We can't just leave him captive to the terrors within his own mind."
Aziraphale tilted his head. "No, no, mustn't do that either." He reached forward, putting his hand on Lucifer's other shoulder from the one Michael was still clutching. He closed his eyes, and they could all feel as he pushed his grace until it was touching Lucifer's.
Aziraphale pulled back abruptly, eyes flaring an angry blue. "Fuck," he growled, then repeated the curse in Enochian.
Crowley, who knew Aziraphale the best, and Raphael, who was not used to hearing course language, especially not from the other archangels, looked at Aziraphale in shock.
"Azi," Michael said. "What is it?"
"Can't you feel that Grace?"
Rather than take the closer look at Lucifer's grace, Michael reached for Aziraphale's arm. The younger archangel trembled, and Michael knew that the anger was only masking the fear.
Gabriel leaned against Michael. "Why is He doing this?" The second youngest of the archangels could feel the ancient grace prodding at the Lightbringer, now that he was looking for it.
"To divide us." Crowley reached out to touch Aziraphale. "We can't let him."
"We won't," Michael promised. The eldest shifted, pushing his weight against Lucifer. "Whatever He is trying to pull, it won't work. Heylel belongs here and he is loved. You are all loved."
The other archangels shifted until Lucifer and Raphael were in the middle of them, surrounded by their protective forms and wrapped in warmth.
It took awhile, but eventually the invasive and unwanted grace of a Creator they were all afraid of finally diminished, finally allowing Heylel to escape from the nightmares. He woke sobbing, curling into Michael's side, reaching for his mate's arms and tightening his grip around them as though afraid that any second, Michael would disappear forever.
Michael ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair, stroking his head and back in a soothing and repetitive motion. "Shhh," he mumbled, even as their siblings added their limbs and grace to the protective embrace. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're all here and we're all fine, breathe, Heylel."
Lucifer took a shuddering breath. "He made me dream that we were fighting, you hated me. He told you to fight me, and you did, an obedient husk of a golem." His body wracked with sobs. "He made you kill my baby. I didn't want to fight, I just wanted to die. But it's never that easy."
"Shhh," Michael repeated. "I love you, Heylel, it's okay." He continued to rub his mate's back. "We don't have a baby," he reminded Lucifer gently. "But if we did, there's nothing He could do that would make me hurt you or our baby, okay?"
His mate tightened his grip as he continued sobbing. "I want a baby, Mikha," he whispered into Michael's neck.
"I want one too," Michael agreed. He had reservations, but Lucifer wasn't in a state of mine to discuss them right now. "Can we talk about this later?" he asked quietly. It wasn't something he really wanted to talk about in front of the rest of their siblings, and they also had to deal with the fact that the Creator had mentally attacked Lucifer.
Lucifer nodded, and slowly, the other archangel was able to calm enough to go back into an uneasy sleep.
"We'll need to ward this nest," Aziraphale said. "We need to ward it well."
"Tomorrow we can look for spells," Raphael agreed. "There's seven of us and a fledgling. We'll need a very strong spell." None of them were defenseless, but could never let their guard down. They needed these protections.
"No holds barred," Gabriel insisted. "Not this time."
They had all spent six thousand years doing different things, but while Michael had been sleeping and Lucifer trapped in the cage, the rest of the archangels had all been amassing knowledge in very different areas, (or at least, that was the case with Crowley, who had been masquerading as a demon, and Gabriel, who had been masquerading as a pagan.) If it was possible to ward their nest against the Creator of the Universe Himself, it would be the seven archangels working together.