Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel/Various Angels, PG-13 for this chapter) 31/59
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 1,952
Chapter Summary: God is back, and Gabriel wants some answers from Him.
CHAPTER 31:
Hello Metatron
The war didn’t end.
Michael hadn’t approved of Lucifer’s proposition, as Gabriel had warned Lucifer. He sent Gabriel back to the fallen Archangel with an ultimatum: either Lucifer laid down his arms and surrendered now, or Heaven would utterly obliterate all who followed him. Lucifer had responded with a threat of his own-Michael needed to submit to him or cause the downfall of every angel in Heaven-and Gabriel had spent the past century ferrying increasingly hateful messages between the brothers.
When he wasn’t playing Messenger between Heaven and Lucifer’s underworld, Gabriel scoured the Earth for Nephilim. The Cherubim, he discovered, had the easiest time recognizing when a human wasn’t fully human. His Cupids were especially useful, tagging the Nephilim with their arrows so they could be recognized by any angel. No matter how many of the monsters Gabriel and his angels cut down, there were always more in their place. Gabriel suspected Lucifer was having newborn Nephilim brought into his realm to raise them quickly, so his army was never depleted.
Raphael had taken it as a personal mission to stop the creation of the Nephilim. He and his warriors hunted every last angel on Earth, merciless and unforgiving. If an angel could not be spoken for by one of the three remaining choirs, they were immediately killed. Several angels Gabriel suspected truly were innocent fell victim to Raphael’s ruthlessness, but none in the Host complained. This was a war. Death happened.
Alastair, Naomi, and their garrisons slid through Heaven, pulling aside their brothers one by one and peering into their minds. They identified hundreds of angels who had lain with humans, sentencing them to death for treason and conspiring against the Host. The war was in Heaven as much as it was on Earth. There was nowhere Gabriel could go to escape the battle.
Cariel kept their choir running while Gabriel was away. He was seated at Gabriel’s desk now, feet propped up on the edge as he read over some reports. The Seraph glanced up as Gabriel returned from a hunt on Earth, a smile tugging at his face. “Hello, Boss.”
“Cariel.” Gabriel smiled back at his second, releasing his tight grip on his grace. It loosened and swirled around him, relaxing from the battle armor solidity. “How have things been in Heaven? Any new news I should know about?”
“Everyone is paranoid of Alastair and Naomi up here,” Cariel said. “Michael hasn’t been seen in two weeks, but Azazel has been working overtime on his behalf.” He gave the slightest shake of his head as he said that. Ever since Gabriel had returned from Lucifer the first time, he and Cariel had been keeping a close eye on Michael’s second for any sign of nefarious behavior. So far, Azazel had done absolutely nothing suspicious. Gabriel was starting to think that Lucifer had been telling the truth, that Azazel really was loyal to the Host first and had just been doing one last favor for the Archangel he had served for millions of years. “Word from the Healers is that Barachiel should be waking up sometime this month.” Barachiel was resting in Raphael’s tower, watched over constantly by at least a Cherub healer. His vessel had been discarded long ago, dead from the injuries from the Nephilim, but his wings had not started to regrow. Marmoniel said Barachiel’s spirit needed to finish mending before his energy could be turned to extraneous limbs. Gabriel prayed she was right.
“What about-” Gabriel cut himself off, looking to the east. There was a weight in the Garden, a very familiar warmth and presence that echoed throughout Heaven. “Father’s back?”
“He comes and goes,” Cariel said. “No regular schedule. Michael and Raphael haven’t been to visit him yet.”
“And you didn’t think I should know!?” God had been avoiding Heaven for several centuries, since even before Sammael became Lucifer. He had been around, but never accessible. Joshua would occasionally offer the angels words of encouragement from their Father, but nothing concrete, nothing more than You are not forsaken.
“He hasn’t sent for you,” Cariel pointed out. “If He had, you would have known immediately.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m going to Him anyway.” Gabriel spread his wings before God could leave.
Today, the Garden was the Throne Room, and Joshua was sweeping the steps as he often did. He always looked sad when the Garden wasn’t a garden. “Greetings, brother. Here to see Father?”
“Hello, Josh. Is He busy?”
Joshua nodded, leaning on his broom and smiling at the Archangel. “He is, but I think He’ll see you anyway.”
Gabriel could feel Michael in his tower, and he knew Raphael was still on Earth. Who else could God be busy with? Frowning a little, Gabriel pushed the doors open and stepped into the Throne Room.
Father was peaceful today, burning brightly on His throne. A Cherub was in the room, sitting cross-legged in Gabriel’s throne, sucking on the tip of a pen. He looked up as Gabriel strode in, his single set of silver-edged wings fluttering nervously. “Oh! Hello! You’re an Archangel!”
“Yes, I...” Gabriel ducked into a bow toward God, feeling his Father’s amusement ruffle over his wings as he couldn’t take his eyes away from the little brother sitting in God’s presence. Only the Archangels could sit with their Father. No other angel, no other had ever looked upon Him. “You’re in my seat,” Gabriel finished lamely, shuffling his own wings in uncertainty.
“Sorry, I was just, yes, taking notes, you see, sorry. Didn’t want to sit in one of the big ones!” The Cherub gathered up his notes, hopping off Gabriel’s throne and dusting it off with a hand. “There, all better now!” He curled his wings behind him, head cocked to the side as he hugged the papers against his chest. “I’m a big fan of yours, Messenger! Big fan. I like angels who deal with words. With the Word. Very important. Very impressive.”
Gabriel turned slowly from the silver-winged angel to his Father, his grace curling around him in confusion. “I… who?”
God’s gruff chuckle brushed over both angels, and they both shivered in pleasure at their Father’s laugh. Gabriel shot the younger Cherub another skeptical look, a frown tugging at his mouth. Who was this angel, to be singled out by their Father? Why did he have silver wings? Only Gabriel had truly different wings, edged in gold to show his role as his Father’s sole Messenger. What did silver edges mean? Was this angel meant to replace him?
This is Metatron, from Michael’s choir.
Metatron bobbed in a deep bow to Gabriel, spilling some of his notes on the floor. He immediately chased them down, scooping them back into his arms with hasty apologies.
“But… why? Father, I… I don’t understand.”
Metatron is My Scribe.
Metatron beamed at Gabriel, giving a quick nod and spreading his wings proudly. “God has chosen me to take down the Word! It’s an impressive honor!”
“Of course it is.” Gabriel looked between his Father and his younger brother. “Er… take down the Word for what?”
“Contingency plans!” Metatron shuffled the notes in his hands and grinned nervously at Gabriel. “It’s an instruction manual for this universe.”
Gabriel’s frown only grew deeper with every statement the younger angel spoke. “Why would we need that?”
“You never know. Maybe someday, God will want to pass the universe on to a child.”
There was no such thing as “maybe someday” when it came to Father. Gabriel glanced sharply at God, sitting on His throne, but God remained peaceful and silent. Was He expecting a child? Could He make a Nephilim of His own?
Of course He could. He could do anything. But was He?
You can go, Metatron. I shall send for you when I need you again.
“Yes! Yes, of course, let me just get my pens, of course!” Metatron nodded and bowed again, grabbing a few more things from Gabriel’s throne before he turned and bowed to God, covering his head with his wings like the Archangels did. He gave Gabriel one more smile and practically ran from the room, the heavy doors booming closed behind him. Gabriel could only watch him leave, at a complete loss for words.
I know why you have come.
When God spoke again, Gabriel snapped out of his distraction to turn back to his Father, bowing again, much solemner this time. “Father, we need You to-”
No.
The one word rolled with command, as firm and absolute as an iron door slamming in Gabriel’s face. At the same time, it was gentle, softened by sadness. Gabriel lifted his head, clasping his hands together in supplication. “Father, please!”
No, Messenger. This war is between your brothers.
“And if You just stepped in, it could be over instantly!”
And? What would they learn?
Gabriel stepped back, forcing his eyes to stay low, at his Father’s feet. “This is a test!?”
This is how the world changes.
“They are killing each other!” Gabriel swept out an arm, gesturing toward Earth far below the Heavenly plane. “They are killing humans! Michael and Lucifer tear at each other daily! Suspicion and mistrust grow in the Host! Angels are being crippled and murdered and… and all You can say is that this isn’t Your war?”
Yes.
There was no arguing with a supremely powerful entity who refused to participate. Gabriel’s wings slumped, then his shoulders, and he dropped to his knees on the floor of the Throne Room. “But…”
Father had been Gabriel’s last hope for a quick end to this war. Gabriel had been sure that if only Father realized how terrible things were, He’d step in to reset Heaven and Earth, to restore Sammael and heal Michael’s shattering spirit. Of course He already knew. He wasn’t waiting for His children to beg for His help. He was just watching them squabble and destroy each other.
God said nothing, but He didn’t leave the room either. He sat in His throne calmly, keeping Gabriel company while Gabriel hid his face in his hands.
“I don’t understand,” Gabriel whispered.
You aren’t meant to. The floor dissolved beneath Gabriel, shattering into millions of blades of grass. The Throne Room turned into the Garden, warm and alive, comforting instead of cold. The pillar of fire that was God moved closer to Gabriel and settled beside him. My plan is in motion, Gabriel. The pieces have been placed. To interfere now… that would be cheating.
“But You’re God! Lord of All! You make the rules!”
And I follow them too. I don’t make new rules just because the game has taken an interesting twist.
“Interesting!?” Gabriel pounded his fist against the grass. “This isn’t interesting! This is devastating!”
A single brushstroke in a painting cannot see its purpose in the entire picture, and yet without it, the painting is incomplete.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
No.
Gabriel managed a weak smile at the truth of the hummed answer, shifting to sit beside his Father. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his wings around himself. “I’m scared, Father. I don’t know what to do.”
You are heart-strong and impetuous, exactly as I made you. Continue to follow your heart. It will not lead you astray.
Easier said than done. Gabriel’s heart was sick with grief over losing Sammael. It was worried over Michael and furious over Barachiel. Cariel completely confused it, and losing Anael’s garrison to Raphael saddened it. Gabriel pressed his hands over the core of his spirit and tried to find some glimmer of guidance within himself. “I just don’t know…”
You will.
Next...
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 1,952
Chapter Summary: God is back, and Gabriel wants some answers from Him.
CHAPTER 31:
Hello Metatron
The war didn’t end.
Michael hadn’t approved of Lucifer’s proposition, as Gabriel had warned Lucifer. He sent Gabriel back to the fallen Archangel with an ultimatum: either Lucifer laid down his arms and surrendered now, or Heaven would utterly obliterate all who followed him. Lucifer had responded with a threat of his own-Michael needed to submit to him or cause the downfall of every angel in Heaven-and Gabriel had spent the past century ferrying increasingly hateful messages between the brothers.
When he wasn’t playing Messenger between Heaven and Lucifer’s underworld, Gabriel scoured the Earth for Nephilim. The Cherubim, he discovered, had the easiest time recognizing when a human wasn’t fully human. His Cupids were especially useful, tagging the Nephilim with their arrows so they could be recognized by any angel. No matter how many of the monsters Gabriel and his angels cut down, there were always more in their place. Gabriel suspected Lucifer was having newborn Nephilim brought into his realm to raise them quickly, so his army was never depleted.
Raphael had taken it as a personal mission to stop the creation of the Nephilim. He and his warriors hunted every last angel on Earth, merciless and unforgiving. If an angel could not be spoken for by one of the three remaining choirs, they were immediately killed. Several angels Gabriel suspected truly were innocent fell victim to Raphael’s ruthlessness, but none in the Host complained. This was a war. Death happened.
Alastair, Naomi, and their garrisons slid through Heaven, pulling aside their brothers one by one and peering into their minds. They identified hundreds of angels who had lain with humans, sentencing them to death for treason and conspiring against the Host. The war was in Heaven as much as it was on Earth. There was nowhere Gabriel could go to escape the battle.
Cariel kept their choir running while Gabriel was away. He was seated at Gabriel’s desk now, feet propped up on the edge as he read over some reports. The Seraph glanced up as Gabriel returned from a hunt on Earth, a smile tugging at his face. “Hello, Boss.”
“Cariel.” Gabriel smiled back at his second, releasing his tight grip on his grace. It loosened and swirled around him, relaxing from the battle armor solidity. “How have things been in Heaven? Any new news I should know about?”
“Everyone is paranoid of Alastair and Naomi up here,” Cariel said. “Michael hasn’t been seen in two weeks, but Azazel has been working overtime on his behalf.” He gave the slightest shake of his head as he said that. Ever since Gabriel had returned from Lucifer the first time, he and Cariel had been keeping a close eye on Michael’s second for any sign of nefarious behavior. So far, Azazel had done absolutely nothing suspicious. Gabriel was starting to think that Lucifer had been telling the truth, that Azazel really was loyal to the Host first and had just been doing one last favor for the Archangel he had served for millions of years. “Word from the Healers is that Barachiel should be waking up sometime this month.” Barachiel was resting in Raphael’s tower, watched over constantly by at least a Cherub healer. His vessel had been discarded long ago, dead from the injuries from the Nephilim, but his wings had not started to regrow. Marmoniel said Barachiel’s spirit needed to finish mending before his energy could be turned to extraneous limbs. Gabriel prayed she was right.
“What about-” Gabriel cut himself off, looking to the east. There was a weight in the Garden, a very familiar warmth and presence that echoed throughout Heaven. “Father’s back?”
“He comes and goes,” Cariel said. “No regular schedule. Michael and Raphael haven’t been to visit him yet.”
“And you didn’t think I should know!?” God had been avoiding Heaven for several centuries, since even before Sammael became Lucifer. He had been around, but never accessible. Joshua would occasionally offer the angels words of encouragement from their Father, but nothing concrete, nothing more than You are not forsaken.
“He hasn’t sent for you,” Cariel pointed out. “If He had, you would have known immediately.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m going to Him anyway.” Gabriel spread his wings before God could leave.
Today, the Garden was the Throne Room, and Joshua was sweeping the steps as he often did. He always looked sad when the Garden wasn’t a garden. “Greetings, brother. Here to see Father?”
“Hello, Josh. Is He busy?”
Joshua nodded, leaning on his broom and smiling at the Archangel. “He is, but I think He’ll see you anyway.”
Gabriel could feel Michael in his tower, and he knew Raphael was still on Earth. Who else could God be busy with? Frowning a little, Gabriel pushed the doors open and stepped into the Throne Room.
Father was peaceful today, burning brightly on His throne. A Cherub was in the room, sitting cross-legged in Gabriel’s throne, sucking on the tip of a pen. He looked up as Gabriel strode in, his single set of silver-edged wings fluttering nervously. “Oh! Hello! You’re an Archangel!”
“Yes, I...” Gabriel ducked into a bow toward God, feeling his Father’s amusement ruffle over his wings as he couldn’t take his eyes away from the little brother sitting in God’s presence. Only the Archangels could sit with their Father. No other angel, no other had ever looked upon Him. “You’re in my seat,” Gabriel finished lamely, shuffling his own wings in uncertainty.
“Sorry, I was just, yes, taking notes, you see, sorry. Didn’t want to sit in one of the big ones!” The Cherub gathered up his notes, hopping off Gabriel’s throne and dusting it off with a hand. “There, all better now!” He curled his wings behind him, head cocked to the side as he hugged the papers against his chest. “I’m a big fan of yours, Messenger! Big fan. I like angels who deal with words. With the Word. Very important. Very impressive.”
Gabriel turned slowly from the silver-winged angel to his Father, his grace curling around him in confusion. “I… who?”
God’s gruff chuckle brushed over both angels, and they both shivered in pleasure at their Father’s laugh. Gabriel shot the younger Cherub another skeptical look, a frown tugging at his mouth. Who was this angel, to be singled out by their Father? Why did he have silver wings? Only Gabriel had truly different wings, edged in gold to show his role as his Father’s sole Messenger. What did silver edges mean? Was this angel meant to replace him?
This is Metatron, from Michael’s choir.
Metatron bobbed in a deep bow to Gabriel, spilling some of his notes on the floor. He immediately chased them down, scooping them back into his arms with hasty apologies.
“But… why? Father, I… I don’t understand.”
Metatron is My Scribe.
Metatron beamed at Gabriel, giving a quick nod and spreading his wings proudly. “God has chosen me to take down the Word! It’s an impressive honor!”
“Of course it is.” Gabriel looked between his Father and his younger brother. “Er… take down the Word for what?”
“Contingency plans!” Metatron shuffled the notes in his hands and grinned nervously at Gabriel. “It’s an instruction manual for this universe.”
Gabriel’s frown only grew deeper with every statement the younger angel spoke. “Why would we need that?”
“You never know. Maybe someday, God will want to pass the universe on to a child.”
There was no such thing as “maybe someday” when it came to Father. Gabriel glanced sharply at God, sitting on His throne, but God remained peaceful and silent. Was He expecting a child? Could He make a Nephilim of His own?
Of course He could. He could do anything. But was He?
You can go, Metatron. I shall send for you when I need you again.
“Yes! Yes, of course, let me just get my pens, of course!” Metatron nodded and bowed again, grabbing a few more things from Gabriel’s throne before he turned and bowed to God, covering his head with his wings like the Archangels did. He gave Gabriel one more smile and practically ran from the room, the heavy doors booming closed behind him. Gabriel could only watch him leave, at a complete loss for words.
I know why you have come.
When God spoke again, Gabriel snapped out of his distraction to turn back to his Father, bowing again, much solemner this time. “Father, we need You to-”
No.
The one word rolled with command, as firm and absolute as an iron door slamming in Gabriel’s face. At the same time, it was gentle, softened by sadness. Gabriel lifted his head, clasping his hands together in supplication. “Father, please!”
No, Messenger. This war is between your brothers.
“And if You just stepped in, it could be over instantly!”
And? What would they learn?
Gabriel stepped back, forcing his eyes to stay low, at his Father’s feet. “This is a test!?”
This is how the world changes.
“They are killing each other!” Gabriel swept out an arm, gesturing toward Earth far below the Heavenly plane. “They are killing humans! Michael and Lucifer tear at each other daily! Suspicion and mistrust grow in the Host! Angels are being crippled and murdered and… and all You can say is that this isn’t Your war?”
Yes.
There was no arguing with a supremely powerful entity who refused to participate. Gabriel’s wings slumped, then his shoulders, and he dropped to his knees on the floor of the Throne Room. “But…”
Father had been Gabriel’s last hope for a quick end to this war. Gabriel had been sure that if only Father realized how terrible things were, He’d step in to reset Heaven and Earth, to restore Sammael and heal Michael’s shattering spirit. Of course He already knew. He wasn’t waiting for His children to beg for His help. He was just watching them squabble and destroy each other.
God said nothing, but He didn’t leave the room either. He sat in His throne calmly, keeping Gabriel company while Gabriel hid his face in his hands.
“I don’t understand,” Gabriel whispered.
You aren’t meant to. The floor dissolved beneath Gabriel, shattering into millions of blades of grass. The Throne Room turned into the Garden, warm and alive, comforting instead of cold. The pillar of fire that was God moved closer to Gabriel and settled beside him. My plan is in motion, Gabriel. The pieces have been placed. To interfere now… that would be cheating.
“But You’re God! Lord of All! You make the rules!”
And I follow them too. I don’t make new rules just because the game has taken an interesting twist.
“Interesting!?” Gabriel pounded his fist against the grass. “This isn’t interesting! This is devastating!”
A single brushstroke in a painting cannot see its purpose in the entire picture, and yet without it, the painting is incomplete.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
No.
Gabriel managed a weak smile at the truth of the hummed answer, shifting to sit beside his Father. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his wings around himself. “I’m scared, Father. I don’t know what to do.”
You are heart-strong and impetuous, exactly as I made you. Continue to follow your heart. It will not lead you astray.
Easier said than done. Gabriel’s heart was sick with grief over losing Sammael. It was worried over Michael and furious over Barachiel. Cariel completely confused it, and losing Anael’s garrison to Raphael saddened it. Gabriel pressed his hands over the core of his spirit and tried to find some glimmer of guidance within himself. “I just don’t know…”
You will.
Next...